Free Confession by S. G. Klein Page A

follow that they discussed Literature at any great length or Music or Art when they were alone in their private apartments. It did not follow that he pressed her to tell him what she thought about a particular writer, how he shaped a sentence or turned a phrase. Occasionally I would see Monsieur Heger smile at his wife across the table in the refectory or catch them discussing some matter or other pertaining to the school but on the whole I preferred to think of him here in his study, either alone or with Emily and myself sitting at our desks listening to him read.
    ‘You must be pleased to have a son,’ I said when our lesson was finished and Emily had gone on ahead to the music room.
    ‘God bestows on us what he thinks fit. But yes, I am pleased. He is a strong, healthy boy.’
    ‘And how does Marie Pauline take to her little brother?’
    ‘Very well, I believe she thinks he is a doll. Louise Florence however is less impressed. ’
    ‘And Madame?’ I said for want of anything better to ask. ‘Is she well?’
    ‘Madame Heger is tired but she will be back on her feet running the school very soon.’
    ‘Madame is always very busy.’
    ‘My wife has many remarkable qualities, she is a remarkable woman– ’ here Monsieur Heger hesitated as though he wanted to say more. He was looking at me in a way I had not encountered before. His eyes were suddenly serious.
    ‘Go on,’ I said.
    ‘It is nothing,’ he whispered. ‘I am so happy to have been blessed with a son. It is quite overwhelming – ’
    ‘ “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased”,’ – I said and then seeing my opportunity– ‘Our friends, the Revd and Mrs Jenkins have two sons – I think you saw me walking with their eldest, John Jenkins, a few days ago?’
    ‘I don’t recall – ’
    ‘Mrs Jenkins has been unwell. She asked that I visit and insisted he accompany me home.’
    ‘I believe I have heard of the Revd Jenkins, yes – ’
    ‘He is a dull man, as is John Jenkins although well-meaning enough – ’
    ‘Is he?’
    ‘Dull?’ I said. ‘Yes.’
    Monsieur Heger nodded slowly. I judged by his countenance that he was experiencing a certain relief.
    ‘You still attend the Chapelle Royale?’
    ‘That is my church, Sir, yes.’
    As a true son of Rome it was clearly painful for him to see one such as me turn her back on that which he held so dear. He was a good man, certainly better than many Protestants I knew– an honourable man, decent and with exceptional talents.
    ‘Madame Heger has not suggested you attend Mass perhaps?’
    ‘She has not.’
    ‘To you that would be equal to suggesting one walk into a Babylonish furnace?’
    I acknowledged it would.
    ‘And what would you say if I asked you and your sister to accompany us into said fire?’ What would I say, Monsieur? What would I say?
    ‘I would say that – ’ but here our conversation was curtailed by one of the first-year pupils – Gabrielle Babineaux –running up to us with a note in her hand from Mademoiselle Blanche requesting Monsieur Heger’s immediate presence in the main classroom.
    Taking Gabrielle’s hand in his, my teacher strode off down the corridor.
    ‘Monsieur!’ I called after him for I was still holding his handkerchief– but either he did not hear me or cared not to do so. By this time I had no idea where the truth lay.
    I did not tell Emily what Monsieur Heger had suggested regarding our attending High Mass. It did not seem important she know. But I did return Monsieur’s handkerchief to him the following week while I was walking in the garden after supper. I had taken myself outside for some fresh air in order that I could think more clearly about how, when this period of study in Brussels drew to a close, how Emily and I should begin making a living of our own back home.
    Much talk had been made about our opening a school in the parsonage. Plans had to be formulated, pupils found, funds secured. These thoughts and others filled my