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diff --git a/old/14200-h/14200-h.htm b/old/14200-h/14200-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b476b6c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14200-h/14200-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15709 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg Book of Abbé Mouret's Transgression, by Émile Zola</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Abbé Mouret's Transgression, by Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Abbé Mouret's Transgression<br /> +La Faute De L'abbé Mouret</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Ernest Alfred Vizetelly</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 28, 2004 [eBook #14200]<br /> +[Most recently updated: June 8, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABBÉ MOURET'S TRANSGRESSION ***</div> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ABBÉ MOURET’S TRANSGRESSION + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Émile Zola + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Edited with an Introduction by Ernest Alfred Vizetelly + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>ABBÉ MOURET’S TRANSGRESSION</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK I</b> </a><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> <b>BOOK II</b> + </a><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XVII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> <b>BOOK III</b> </a><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + ‘LA FAUTE DE L’ABBÉ MOURET’ was, with respect to the date of publication, + the fourth volume of M. Zola’s ‘Rougon-Macquart’ series; but in the + amended and final scheme of that great literary undertaking, it occupies + the ninth place. It proceeds from the sixth volume of the series, ‘The + Conquest of Plassans;’ which is followed by the two works that deal with + the career of Octave Mouret, Abbé Serge Mouret’s elder brother. In ‘The + Conquest of Plassans,’ Serge and his half-witted sister, Desirée, are seen + in childhood at their home in Plassans, which is wrecked by the doings of + a certain Abbé Faujas and his relatives. Serge Mouret grows up, is called + by an instinctive vocation to the priesthood, and becomes parish priest of + Les Artaud, a well-nigh pagan hamlet in one of those bare, burning + stretches of country with which Provence abounds. And here it is that ‘La + Faute de l’Abbé Mouret’ opens in the old ruinous church, perched upon a + hillock in full view of the squalid village, the arid fields, and the + great belts of rock which shut in the landscape all around. + </p> + <p> + There are two elements in this remarkable story, which, from the + standpoint of literary style, has never been excelled by anything that M. + Zola has since written; and one may glance at it therefore from two points + of view. Taking it under its sociological and religious aspect, it will be + found to be an indirect indictment of the celibacy of the priesthood; that + celibacy, contrary to Nature’s fundamental law, which assuredly has + largely influenced the destinies of the Roman Catholic Church. To that + celibacy, and to all the evils that have sprang from it, may be ascribed + much of the irreligion current in France to-day. The periodical reports on + criminality issued by the French Ministers of Justice since the foundation + of the Republic in 1871, supply materials for a most formidable indictment + of that vow of perpetual chastity which Rome exacts from her clergy. + Nowadays it is undoubtedly too late for Rome to go back upon that vow and + thereby transform the whole of her sacerdotal organisation; but, perhaps, + had she done so in past times, before the spirit of inquiry and free + examination came into being, she might have assured herself many more + centuries of supremacy than have fallen to her lot. But she has ever + sought to dissociate the law of the Divinity from the law of Nature, as + though indeed the latter were but the invention of the Fiend. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, M. Zola’s hero, finds himself placed between the law of the + Divinity and the law of Nature: and the struggle waged within him by those + two forces is a terrible one. That which training has implanted in his + mind proves the stronger, and, so far as the canons of the Church can + warrant it, he saves his soul. But the problem is not quite frankly put by + M. Zola; for if Abbé Mouret transgresses he does so unwittingly, at a time + when he is unconscious of his priesthood and has no memory of any vow. + When the truth flashes upon him he is horrified with himself, and + forthwith returns to the Church. A further struggle between the contending + forces then certainly ensues, and ends in the final victory of the Church. + But it must at least be said that in the lapses which occur in real life + among the Roman priesthood, the circumstances are altogether different + from those which M. Zola has selected for his story. + </p> + <p> + The truth is that in ‘La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret,’ betwixt lifelike + glimpses of French rural life, the author transports us to a realm of + poesy and imagination. This is, indeed, so true that he has introduced + into his work all the ideas on which he had based an early unfinished poem + called ‘Genesis.’ He carries us to an enchanted garden, the Paradou—a + name which one need hardly say is Provencal for Paradise*—and there + Serge Mouret, on recovering from brain fever, becomes, as it were, a new + Adam by the side of a new Eve, the fair and winsome Albine. All this part + of the book, then, is poetry in prose. The author has remembered the ties + which link Rousseau to the realistic school of fiction, and, as in the + pages of Jean-Jacques, trees, springs, mountains, rocks, and flowers + become animated beings and claim their place in the world’s mechanism. One + may indeed go back far beyond Rousseau, even to Lucretius himself; for + more than once we are irresistibly reminded of Lucretian scenes, above + which through M. Zola’s pages there seems to hover the pronouncement of + Sophocles: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + No ordinance of man shall override + The settled laws of Nature and of God; + Not written these in pages of a book, + Nor were they framed to-day, nor yesterday; + We know not whence they are; but this we know, + That they from all eternity have been, + And shall to all eternity endure. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * There is a village called Paradou in Provence, between + Les Baux and Arles. +</pre> + <p> + And if we pass to the young pair whose duo of love is sung amidst the + varied voices of creation, we are irresistibly reminded of the Paul and + Virginia of St. Pierre, and the Daphnis and Chloe of Longus. Beside them, + in their marvellous garden, lingers a memory too of Manon and Des Grieux, + with a suggestion of Lauzun and a glimpse of the art of Fragonard. All + combine, all contribute—from the great classics to the eighteenth + century <i>petits maitres</i>—to build up a story of love’s rise in + the human breast in answer to Nature’s promptings. + </p> + <p> + M. Zola wrote ‘La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret’ one summer under the trees of + his garden, mindful the while of gardens that he had known in childhood: + the flowery expanse which had stretched before his grandmother’s home at + Pont-au-Beraud and the wild estate of Galice, between Roquefavour and + Aix-en-Provence, through which he had roamed as a lad with friends then + boys like himself: Professor Baille and Cezanne, the painter. And into his + description of the wondrous Paradou he has put all his remembrance of the + gardens and woods of Provence, where many a plant and flower thrive with a + luxuriance unknown to England. True, in order to refresh his memory and + avoid mistakes, he consulted various horticultural manuals whilst he was + writing; of which circumstance captious critics have readily laid hold, to + proclaim that the description of the Paradou is a mere florist’s + catalogue. + </p> + <p> + But it is nothing of the kind. The florist who might dare to offer such a + catalogue to the public would be speedily assailed by all the + horticultural journalists of England and all the customers of villadom. + For M. Zola avails himself of a poet’s license to crowd marvel upon + marvel, to exaggerate nature’s forces, to transform the tiniest blooms + into giant examples of efflorescence, and to mingle even the seasons one + with the other. But all this was premeditated; there was a picture before + his mind’s eye, and that picture he sought to trace with his pen, + regardless of all possible objections. It is the poet’s privilege to do + this and even to be admired for it. It would be easy for some learned + botanist, some expert zoologist, to demolish Milton from the standpoint of + their respective sciences, but it would be absurd to do so. We ask of the + poet the flowers of his imagination, and the further he carries us from + the sordid realities, the limited possibilities of life, the more are we + grateful to him. + </p> + <p> + And M. Zola’s Paradou is a flight of fancy, even as its mistress, the + fair, loving, guileless Albine, whose smiles and whose tears alike go to + our hearts, is the daughter of imagination. She is a flower—the very + flower of life’s youth—in the midst of all the blossoms of her + garden. She unfolds to life and to love even as they unfold; she loves + rapturously even as they do under the sun and the azure; and she dies with + them when the sun’s caress is gone and the chill of winter has fallen. At + the thought of her, one instinctively remembers Malherbe’s ‘Ode A Du + Perrier:’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She to this earth belonged, where beauty fast + To direst fate is borne: + A rose, she lasted, as the roses last, + Only for one brief morn. +</pre> + <p> + French painters have made subjects of many episodes in M. Zola’s works, + but none has been more popular with them than Albine’s pathetic, perfumed + death amidst the flowers. I know several paintings of great merit which + that touching incident has inspired. + </p> + <p> + Albine, if more or less unreal, a phantasm, the spirit as it were of + Nature incarnate in womanhood, is none the less the most delightful of M. + Zola’s heroines. She smiles at us like the vision of perfect beauty and + perfect love which rises before us when our hearts are yet young and full + of illusions. She is the ideal, the very quintessence of woman. + </p> + <p> + In Serge Mouret, her lover, we find a man who, in more than one respect, + recalls M. Zola’s later hero, the Abbé Froment of ‘Lourdes’ and ‘Rome.’ He + has the same loving, yearning nature; he is born—absolutely like + Abbé Froment—of an unbelieving father and a mother of mystical mind. + But unlike Froment he cannot shake off the shackles of his priesthood. + Reborn to life after his dangerous illness, he relapses into the religion + of death, the religion which regards life as impurity, which denies + Nature’s laws, and so often wrecks human existence, as if indeed that had + been the Divine purpose in setting man upon earth. His struggles suggest + various passages in ‘Lourdes’ and ‘Rome.’ In fact, in writing those works, + M. Zola must have had his earlier creation in mind. There are passages in + ‘La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret’ culled from the writings of the Spanish Jesuit + Fathers and the ‘Imitation’ of Thomas à Kempis that recur almost word for + word in the Trilogy of the Three Cities. Some might regard this as + evidence of the limitation of M. Zola’s powers, but I think differently. I + consider that he has in both instances designedly taken the same type of + priest in order to show how he may live under varied circumstances; for in + the earlier instance he has led him to one goal, and in the later one to + another. And the passages of prayer, entreaty, and spiritual conflict + simply recur because they are germane, even necessary, to the subject in + both cases. + </p> + <p> + Of the minor characters that figure in ‘La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret’ the + chief thing to be said is that they are lifelike. If Serge is almost + wholly spiritual, if Albine is the daughter of poesy, they, the others, + are of the earth earthy. As a result of their appearance on the scene, + there are some powerful contrasting passages in the book. Archangias, the + coarse and brutal Christian Brother who serves as a foil to Abbé Mouret; + La Teuse, the priest’s garrulous old housekeeper; Desirée, his ‘innocent’ + sister, a grown woman with the mind of a child and an almost crazy + affection for every kind of bird and beast, are all admirably portrayed. + Old Bambousse, though one sees but little of him, stands out as a genuine + type of the hard-headed French peasant, who invariably places pecuniary + considerations before all others. And Fortune and Rosalie, Vincent and + Catherine, and their companions, are equally true to nature. It need + hardly be said that there is many a village in France similar to Les + Artaud. That hamlet’s shameless, purely animal life has in no wise been + over-pictured by M. Zola. Those who might doubt him need not go as far as + Provence to find such communities. Many Norman hamlets are every whit as + bad, and, in Normandy, conditions are aggravated by a marked predilection + for the bottle, which, as French social-scientists have been pointing out + for some years now, is fast hastening the degenerescence of the peasantry, + both morally and physically. + </p> + <p> + With reference to the English version of ‘La Faute de l’Abbé Mouret’ + herewith presented, I may just say that I have subjected it to + considerable revision and have retranslated all the more important + passages myself. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MERTON, SURREY. E. A. V. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + ABBÉ MOURET’S TRANSGRESSION + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + As La Teuse entered the church she rested her broom and feather-brush + against the altar. She was late, as she had that day began her half-yearly + wash. Limping more than ever in her haste and hustling the benches, she + went down the church to ring the <i>Angelus</i>. The bare, worn bell-rope + dangled from the ceiling near the confessional, and ended in a big knot + greasy from handling. Again and again, with regular jumps, she hung + herself upon it; and then let her whole bulky figure go with it, whirling + in her petticoats, her cap awry, and her blood rushing to her broad face. + </p> + <p> + Having set her cap straight with a little pat, she came back breathless to + give a hasty sweep before the altar. Every day the dust persistently + settled between the disjoined boards of the platform. Her broom rummaged + among the corners with an angry rumble. Then she lifted the altar cover + and was sorely vexed to find that the large upper cloth, already darned in + a score of places, was again worn through in the very middle, so as to + show the under cloth, which in its turn was so worn and so transparent + that one could see the consecrated stone, embedded in the painted wood of + the altar. La Teuse dusted the linen, yellow from long usage, and plied + her feather-brush along the shelf against which she set the liturgical + altar-cards. Then, climbing upon a chair, she removed the yellow cotton + covers from the crucifix and two of the candlesticks. The brass of the + latter was tarnished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me!’ she muttered, ‘they really want a clean! I must give them a + polish up!’ + </p> + <p> + Then hopping on one leg, swaying and stumping heavily enough to drive in + the flagstones, she hastened to the sacristy for the Missal, which she + placed unopened on the lectern on the Epistle side, with its edges turned + towards the middle of the altar. And afterwards she lighted the two + candles. As she went off with her broom, she gave a glance round her to + make sure that the abode of the Divinity had been put in proper order. All + was still, save that the bell-rope near the confessional still swung + between roof and floor with a sinuous sweep. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret had just come down to the sacristy, a small and chilly + apartment, which a passage separated from his dining-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning, Monsieur le Curé,’ said La Teuse, laying her broom aside. + ‘Oh! you have been lazy this morning! Do you know it’s a quarter past + six?’ And without allowing the smiling young priest sufficient time to + reply, she added ‘I’ve a scolding to give you. There’s another hole in the + cloth again. There’s no sense in it. We have only one other, and I’ve been + ruining my eyes over it these three days in trying to mend it. You will + leave our poor Lord quite bare, if you go on like this.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret was still smiling. ‘Jesus does not need so much linen, my good + Teuse,’ he cheerfully replied. ‘He is always warm, always royally received + by those who love Him well.’ + </p> + <p> + Then stepping towards a small tap, he asked: ‘Is my sister up yet? I have + not seen her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Mademoiselle Desirée has been down a long time,’ answered the + servant, who was kneeling before an old kitchen sideboard in which the + sacred vestments were kept. ‘She is already with her fowls and rabbits. + She was expecting some chicks to be hatched yesterday, and it didn’t come + off. So you can guess her excitement.’ Then the worthy woman broke off to + inquire: ‘The gold chasuble, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + The priest, who had washed his hands and stood reverently murmuring a + prayer, nodded affirmatively. The parish possessed only three chasubles: a + violet one, a black one, and one in cloth-of-gold. The last had to be used + on the days when white, red, or green was prescribed by the ritual, and it + was therefore an all important garment. La Teuse lifted it reverently from + the shelf covered with blue paper, on which she laid it after each + service; and having placed it on the sideboard, she cautiously removed the + fine cloths which protected its embroidery. A golden lamb slumbered on a + golden cross, surrounded by broad rays of gold. The gold tissue, frayed at + the folds, broke out in little slender tufts; the embossed ornaments were + getting tarnished and worn. There was perpetual anxiety, fluttering + concern, at seeing it thus go off spangle by spangle. The priest had to + wear it almost every day. And how on earth could it be replaced—how + would they be able to buy the three chasubles whose place it took, when + the last gold threads should be worn out? + </p> + <p> + Upon the chasuble La Teuse next laid out the stole, the maniple, the + girdle, alb and amice. But her tongue still wagged while she crossed the + stole with the maniple, and wreathed the girdle so as to trace the + venerated initial of Mary’s holy name. + </p> + <p> + ‘That girdle is not up to much now,’ she muttered; ‘you will have to make + up your mind to get another, your reverence. It wouldn’t be very hard; I + could plait you one myself if I only had some hemp.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret made no answer. He was dressing the chalice at a small table. + A large old silver-gilt chalice it was with a bronze base, which he had + just taken from the bottom of a deal cupboard, in which the sacred vessels + and linen, the Holy Oils, the Missals, candlesticks, and crosses were + kept. Across the cup he laid a clean purificator, and on this set the + silver-gilt paten, with the host in it, which he covered with a small lawn + pall. As he was hiding the chalice by gathering together the folds in the + veil of cloth of gold matching the chasuble, La Teuse exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop, there’s no corporal in the burse. Last night I took all the dirty + purificators, palls, and corporals to wash them—separately, of + course—not with the house-wash. By-the-bye, your reverence, I didn’t + tell you: I have just started the house-wash. A fine fat one it will be! + Better than the last.’ + </p> + <p> + Then while the priest slipped a corporal into the burse and laid the + latter on the veil, she went on quickly: + </p> + <p> + ‘By-the-bye, I forgot! that gadabout Vincent hasn’t come. Do you wish me + to serve your mass, your reverence?’ + </p> + <p> + The young priest eyed her sternly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it isn’t a sin,’ she continued, with her genial smile. ‘I did serve + a mass once, in Monsieur Caffin’s time. I serve it better, too, than + ragamuffins who laugh like heathens at seeing a fly buzzing about the + church. True I may wear a cap, I may be sixty years old, and as round as a + tub, but I have more respect for our Lord than those imps of boys whom I + caught only the other day playing at leap-frog behind the altar.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest was still looking at her and shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a hole this village is!’ she grumbled. ‘Not a hundred and fifty + people in it! There are days, like to-day, when you wouldn’t find a living + soul in Les Artaud. Even the babies in swaddling clothes are gone to the + vineyards! And goodness knows what they do among such vines—vines + that grow under the pebbles and look as dry as thistles! A perfect + wilderness, three miles from any highway! Unless an angel comes down to + serve your mass, your reverence, you’ve only got me to help you, on my + honour! or one of Mademoiselle Desirée’s rabbits, no offence to your + reverence!’ + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment, however, Vincent, the Brichets’ younger son, gently + opened the door of the sacristy. His shock of red hair and his little, + glistening, grey eyes exasperated La Teuse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! the wretch!’ she cried. ‘I’ll bet he’s just been up to some mischief! + Come on, you scamp, since his reverence is afraid I might dirty our Lord!’ + </p> + <p> + On seeing the lad, Abbé Mouret had taken up the amice. He kissed the cross + embroidered in the centre of it, and for a second laid the cloth upon his + head; then lowering it over the collar-band of his cassock, he crossed it + and fastened the tapes, the right one over the left. He next donned the + alb, the symbol of purity, beginning with the right sleeve. Vincent + stooped and turned around him, adjusting the alb, in order that it should + fall evenly all round him to a couple of inches from the ground. Then he + presented the girdle to the priest, who fastened it tightly round his + loins, as a reminder of the bonds wherewith the Saviour was bound in His + Passion. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse remained standing there, feeling jealous and hurt and struggling + to keep silence; but so great was the itching of her tongue, that she soon + broke out once more: ‘Brother Archangias has been here. He won’t have a + single child at school to-day. He went off again like a whirlwind to pull + the brats’ ears in the vineyards. You had better see him. I believe he has + got something to say to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret silenced her with a wave of the hand. Then he repeated the + usual prayers while he took the maniple—which he kissed before + slipping it over his left forearm, as a symbol of the practice of good + works—and while crossing on his breast the stole, the symbol of his + dignity and power. La Teuse had to help Vincent in the work of adjusting + the chasuble, which she fastened together with slender tapes, so that it + might not slip off behind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Holy Virgin! I had forgotten the cruets!’ she stammered, rushing to the + cupboard. ‘Come, look sharp, lad!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Vincent filled the cruets, phials of coarse glass, while she + hastened to take a clean finger-cloth from a drawer. Abbé Mouret, holding + the chalice by its stem with his left hand, the fingers of his right + resting meanwhile on the burse, then bowed profoundly, but without + removing his biretta, to a black wooden crucifix, which hung over the + side-board. The lad bowed too, and, bearing the cruets covered with the + finger-cloth, led the way out of the sacristy, followed by the priest, who + walked on with downcast eyes, absorbed in deep and prayerful meditation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The empty church was quite white that May morning. The bell-rope near the + confessional hung motionless once more. The little bracket light, with its + stained glass shade, burned like a crimson splotch against the wall on the + right of the tabernacle. Vincent, having set the cruets on the credence, + came back and knelt just below the altar step on the left, while the + priest, after rendering homage to the Holy Sacrament by a genuflexion, + went up to the altar and there spread out the corporal, on the centre of + which he placed the chalice. Then, having opened the Missal, he came down + again. Another bend of the knee followed, and, after crossing himself and + uttering aloud the formula, ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and the + Holy Ghost,’ he raised his joined hands to his breast, and entered on the + great divine drama, with his countenance blanched by faith and love. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Introibo ad altare Dei</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Ad Deum qui loetificat juventutem meam</i>,’ gabbled Vincent, who, + squatting on his heels, mumbled the responses of the antiphon and the + psalm, while watching La Teuse as she roved about the church. + </p> + <p> + The old servant was gazing at one of the candles with a troubled look. Her + anxiety seemed to increase while the priest, bowing down with hands joined + again, recited the <i>Confiteor</i>. She stood still, in her turn struck + her breast, her head bowed, but still keeping a watchful eye on the taper. + For another minute the priest’s grave voice and the server’s stammers + alternated: + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Dominus vobiscum</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Et cum spiritu tuo</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the priest, spreading out his hands and afterwards again joining + them, said with devout compunction: ‘<i>Oremus</i>’ (Let us pray). + </p> + <p> + La Teuse could now stand it no longer, but stepped behind the altar, + reached the guttering candle, and trimmed it with the points of her + scissors. Two large blobs of wax had already been wasted. When she came + back again putting the benches straight on her way, and making sure that + there was holy-water in the fonts, the priest, whose hands were resting on + the edge of the altar-cloth, was praying in subdued tones. And at last he + kissed the altar. + </p> + <p> + Behind him, the little church still looked wan in the pale light of early + morn. The sun, as yet, was only level with the tiled roof. The <i>Kyrie + Eleisons</i> rang quiveringly through that sort of whitewashed stable with + flat ceiling and bedaubed beams. On either side three lofty windows of + plain glass, most of them cracked or smashed, let in a raw light of chalky + crudeness. + </p> + <p> + The free air poured in as it listed, emphasising the naked poverty of the + God of that forlorn village. At the far end of the church, above the big + door which was never opened and the threshold of which was green with + weeds, a boarded gallery—reached by a common miller’s ladder—stretched + from wall to wall. Dire were its creakings on festival days beneath the + weight of wooden shoes. Near the ladder stood the confessional, with + warped panels, painted a lemon yellow. Facing it, beside the little door, + stood the font—a former holy-water stoup resting on a stonework + pedestal. To the right and to the left, halfway down the church, two + narrow altars stood against the wall, surrounded by wooden balustrades. On + the left-hand one, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, was a large gilded + plaster statue of the Mother of God, wearing a regal gold crown upon her + chestnut hair; while on her left arm sat the Divine Child, nude and + smiling, whose little hand raised the star-spangled orb of the universe. + The Virgin’s feet were poised on clouds, and beneath them peeped the heads + of winged cherubs. Then the right-hand altar, used for the masses for the + dead, was surmounted by a crucifix of painted papier-mache—a + pendant, as it were, to the Virgin’s effigy. The figure of Christ, as + large as a child of ten years old, showed Him in all the horror of His + death-throes, with head thrown back, ribs projecting, abdomen hollowed in, + and limbs distorted and splashed with blood. There was a pulpit, too—a + square box reached by a five-step block—near a clock with running + weights, in a walnut case, whose thuds shook the whole church like the + beatings of some huge heart concealed, it might be, under the stone flags. + All along the nave the fourteen Stations of the Cross, fourteen coarsely + coloured prints in narrow black frames, bespeckled the staring whiteness + of the walls with the yellow, blue, and scarlet of scenes from the + Passion. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Deo Gratias</i>,’ stuttered out Vincent at the end of the Epistle. + </p> + <p> + The mystery of love, the immolation of the Holy Victim, was about to + begin. The server took the Missal and bore it to the left, or Gospel-side, + of the altar, taking care not to touch the pages of the book. Each time he + passed before the tabernacle he made a genuflexion slantwise, which threw + him all askew. Returning to the right-hand side once more, he stood + upright with crossed arms during the reading of the Gospel. The priest, + after making the sign of the cross upon the Missal, next crossed himself: + first upon his forehead—to declare that he would never blush for the + divine word; then on his mouth—to show his unchanging readiness to + confess his faith; and finally on his heart—to mark that it belonged + to God alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Dominus vobiscum</i>,’ said he, turning round and facing the cold + white church. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Et cum spiritu tuo</i>,’ answered Vincent, who once more was on his + knees. + </p> + <p> + The Offertory having been recited, the priest uncovered the chalice. For a + moment he held before his breast the paten containing the host, which he + offered up to God, for himself, for those present, and for all the + faithful, living and dead. Then, slipping it on to the edge of the + corporal without touching it with his fingers, he took up the chalice and + carefully wiped it with the purificator. Vincent had in the meanwhile + fetched the cruets from the credence table, and now presented them in + turn, first the wine and then the water. The priest then offered up on + behalf of the whole world the half-filled chalice, which he next replaced + upon the corporal and covered with the pall. Then once again he prayed, + and returned to the side of the altar where the server let a little water + dribble over his thumbs and forefingers to purify him from the slightest + sinful stain. When he had dried his hands on the finger-cloth, La Teuse—who + stood there waiting—emptied the cruet-salver into a zinc pail at the + corner of the altar. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Orate, fratres</i>,’ resumed the priest aloud as he faced the empty + benches, extending and reclasping his hands in a gesture of appeal to all + men of good-will. And turning again towards the altar, he continued his + prayer in a lower tone, while Vincent began to mutter a long Latin + sentence in which he eventually got lost. Now it was that the yellow + sunbeams began to dart through the windows; called, as it were, by the + priest, the sun itself had come to mass, throwing golden sheets of light + upon the left-hand wall, the confessional, the Virgin’s altar, and the big + clock. + </p> + <p> + A gentle creak came from the confessional; the Mother of God, in a halo, + in the dazzlement of her golden crown and mantle smiled tenderly with + tinted lips upon the infant Jesus; and the heated clock throbbed out the + time with quickening strokes. It seemed as if the sun peopled the benches + with the dusty motes that danced in his beams, as if the little church, + that whitened stable, were filled with a glowing throng. Without, were + heard the sounds that told of the happy waking of the countryside, the + blades of grass sighed out content, the damp leaves dried themselves in + the warmth, the birds pruned their feathers and took a first flit round. + And indeed the countryside itself seemed to enter with the sun; for beside + one of the windows a large rowan tree shot up, thrusting some of its + branches through the shattered panes and stretching out leafy buds as if + to take a peep within; while through the fissures of the great door the + weeds on the threshold threatened to encroach upon the nave. Amid all this + quickening life, the big Christ, still in shadow, alone displayed signs of + death, the sufferings of ochre-daubed and lake-bespattered flesh. A + sparrow raised himself up for a moment at the edge of a hole, took a + glance, then flew away; but only to reappear almost immediately when with + noiseless wing he dropped between the benches before the Virgin’s altar. A + second sparrow followed; and soon from all the boughs of the rowan tree + came others that calmly hopped about the flags. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth</i>,’ said the priest + in a low tone, whilst slightly stooping. + </p> + <p> + Vincent rang the little bell thrice; and the sparrows, scared by the + sudden tinkling, flew off with such a mighty buzz of wings that La Teuse, + who had just gone back into the sacristy, came out again, grumbling; ‘The + little rascals! they will mess everything. I’ll bet that Mademoiselle + Desirée has been here again to scatter bread-crumbs for them.’ + </p> + <p> + The dread moment was at hand. The body and the blood of a God were about + to descend upon the altar. The priest kissed the altar-cloth, clasped his + hands, and multiplied signs of the cross over host and chalice. The + prayers of the canon of the mass now fell from his lips in a very ecstasy + of humility and gratitude. His attitude, his gestures, the inflections of + his voice, all expressed his consciousness of his littleness, his emotion + at being selected for so great a task. Vincent came and knelt beside him, + lightly lifted the chasuble with his left hand, the bell ready in his + right; and the priest, his elbows resting on the edge of the altar, + holding the host with the thumbs and forefingers of both hands, pronounced + over it the words of consecration: <i>Hoc est enim corpus meum</i>. Then + having bowed the knee before it, he raised it slowly as high as his hands + could reach, following it upwards with his eyes, while the kneeling server + rang the bell thrice. Then he consecrated the wine—<i>Hic est enim + calix</i>—leaning once more upon his elbows, bowing, raising the cup + aloft, his right hand round the stem, his left holding its base, and his + eyes following it aloft. Again the server rang the bell three times. The + great mystery of the Redemption had once more been repeated, once more had + the adorable Blood flowed forth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just you wait a bit,’ growled La Teuse, as she tried to scare away the + sparrows with outstretched fist. + </p> + <p> + But the sparrows were now fearless. They had come back even while the bell + was ringing, and, unabashed, were fluttering about the benches. The + repeated tinklings even roused them into liveliness, and they answered + back with little chirps which crossed amid the Latin words of prayer, like + the rippling laughs of free urchins. The sun warmed their plumage, the + sweet poverty of the church captivated them. They felt at home there, as + in some barn whose shutters had been left open, and screeched, fought, and + squabbled over the crumbs they found upon the floor. One flew to perch + himself on the smiling Virgin’s golden veil; another, whose daring put the + old servant in a towering rage, made a hasty reconnaissance of La Teuse’s + skirts. And at the altar, the priest, with every faculty absorbed, his + eyes fixed upon the sacred host, his thumbs and forefingers joined, did + not even hear this invasion of the warm May morning, this rising flood of + sunlight, greenery and birds, which overflowed even to the foot of the + Calvary where doomed nature was wrestling in the death-throes. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Per omnia soecula soeculorum</i>,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amen,’ answered Vincent. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Pater</i> ended, the priest, holding the host over the chalice, + broke it in the centre. Detaching a particle from one of the halves, he + dropped it into the precious blood, to symbolise the intimate union into + which he was about to enter with God. He said the <i>Agnus Dei</i> aloud, + softly recited the three prescribed prayers, and made his act of + unworthiness, and then with his elbows resting on the altar, and with the + paten beneath his chin, he partook of both portions of the host at once. + After a fervent meditation, with his hands clasped before his face, he + took the paten and gathered from the corporal the sacred particles of the + host that had fallen, and dropped them into the chalice. One particle + which had adhered to his thumb he removed with his forefinger. And, + crossing himself, chalice in hand, with the paten once again below his + chin, he drank all the precious blood in three draughts, never taking his + lips from the cup’s rim, but imbibing the divine Sacrifice to the last + drop. + </p> + <p> + Vincent had risen to fetch the cruets from the credence table. But + suddenly the door of the passage leading to the parsonage flew open and + swung back against the wall, to admit a handsome child-like girl of + twenty-two, who carried something hidden in her apron. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirteen of them,’ she called out. ‘All the eggs were good.’ And she + opened out her apron and revealed a brood of little shivering chicks, with + sprouting down and beady black eyes. ‘Do just look,’ said she; ‘aren’t + they sweet little pets, the darlings! Oh, look at the little white one + climbing on the others’ backs! and the spotted one already flapping his + tiny wings! The eggs were a splendid lot; not one of them unfertile.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse, who was helping to serve the mass in spite of all prohibitions, + and was at that very moment handing the cruets to Vincent for the + ablutions, thereupon turned round and loudly exclaimed: ‘Do be quiet, + Mademoiselle Desirée! Don’t you see we haven’t finished yet?’ + </p> + <p> + Through the open doorway now came the strong smell of a farmyard, blowing + like some generative ferment into the church amidst the warm sunlight that + was creeping over the altar. Desirée stood there for a moment delighted + with the little ones she carried, watching Vincent pour, and her brother + drink, the purifying wine, in order that nought of the sacred elements + should be left within his mouth. And she stood there still when he came + back to the side of the altar, holding the chalice in both hands, so that + Vincent might pour over his forefingers and thumbs the wine and water of + ablution, which he likewise drank. But when the mother hen ran up clucking + with alarm to seek her little ones, and threatened to force her way into + the church, Desirée went off, talking maternally to her chicks, while the + priest, after pressing the purificator to his lips, wiped first the rim + and next the interior of the chalice. + </p> + <p> + Then came the end, the act of thanksgiving to God. For the last time the + server removed the Missal, and brought it back to the right-hand side. The + priest replaced the purificator, paten, and pall upon the chalice; once + more pinched the two large folds of the veil together, and laid upon it + the burse containing the corporal. His whole being was now one act of + ardent thanksgiving. He besought from Heaven the forgiveness of his sins, + the grace of a holy life, and the reward of everlasting life. He remained + as if overwhelmed by this miracle of love, the ever-recurring immolation, + which sustained him day by day with the blood and flesh of his Savior. + </p> + <p> + Having read the final prayers, he turned and said: ‘<i>Ite, missa est</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Deo gratias</i>,’ answered Vincent. + </p> + <p> + And having turned back to kiss the altar, the priest faced round anew, his + left hand just below his breast, his right outstretched whilst blessing + the church, which the gladsome sunbeams and noisy sparrows filled. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Amen</i>,’ said the server, as he crossed himself. + </p> + <p> + The sun had risen higher, and the sparrows were growing bolder. While the + priest read from the left-hand altar-card the passage of the Gospel of St. + John, announcing the eternity of the Word, the sunrays set the altar + ablaze, whitened the panels of imitation marble, and dimmed the flame of + the two candles, whose short wicks were now merely two dull spots. The + victorious orb enveloped with his glory the crucifix, the candlesticks, + the chasuble, the veil of the chalice—all the gold work that paled + beneath his beams. And when at last the priest, after taking the chalice + in his hands and making a genuflexion, covered his head and turned from + the altar to follow the server, laden with the cruets and finger-cloth, to + the sacristy, the planet remained sole master of the church. Its rays in + turn now rested on the altar-cloth, irradiating the tabernacle-door with + splendour, and celebrating the fertile powers of May. Warmth rose from the + stone flags. The daubed walls, the tall Virgin, the huge Christ, too, all + seemed to quiver as with shooting sap, as if death had been conquered by + the earth’s eternal youth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Le Teuse hastily put out the candles, but lingered to make one last + attempt to drive away the sparrows, and so when she returned to the + sacristy with the Missal she no longer found Abbé Mouret there. Having + washed his hands and put away the sacred vessels and vestments, he was now + standing in the dining room, breakfasting off a cup of milk. + </p> + <p> + ‘You really ought to prevent your sister from scattering bread in the + church,’ said La Teuse on coming in. ‘It was last winter she hit upon that + pretty prank. She said the sparrows were cold, and that God might well + give them some food. You see, she’ll end by making us sleep with all her + fowls and rabbits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We should be all the warmer,’ pleasantly replied the young priest. ‘You + are always grumbling, La Teuse. Do let our poor Desirée pet her animals. + She has no other pleasure, poor innocent!’ + </p> + <p> + The servant took her stand in the centre of the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do believe you yourself wouldn’t mind a bit if the magpies actually + built their nests in the church. You never can see anything, everything + seems just what it ought to be to you. Your sister is precious lucky in + having had you to take charge of her when you left the seminary. No + father, no mother. I should like to know who would let her mess about as + she does in a farmyard.’ + </p> + <p> + Then softening, she added in a gentler tone: ‘To be sure, it would be a + pity to cross her. She hasn’t a touch of malice in her. She’s like a child + of ten, although she’s one of the finest grown girls in the neighbourhood. + And I have to put her to bed, as you know, every night, and send her to + sleep with stories, just like a little child.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret had remained standing, finishing the cup of milk he held + between his fingers, which were slightly reddened by the chill atmosphere + of the dining-room—a large room with painted grey walls, a floor of + square tiles, and having no furniture beyond a table and a few chairs. La + Teuse picked up a napkin which she had laid at a corner of the table in + readiness for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t much linen you dirty,’ she muttered. ‘One would think you could + never sit down, that you are always just about to start off. Ah! if you + had known Monsieur Caffin, the poor dead priest whose place you have + taken! What a man he was for comfort! Why, he couldn’t have digested his + food, if he had eaten standing. A Norman he was, from Canteleu, like + myself. I don’t thank him, I tell you, for having brought me to such a + wild-beast country as this. When first we came, O, Lord! how bored we + were! But the poor priest had had some uncomfortable tales going about him + at home.... Why, sir, didn’t you sweeten your milk, then? Aren’t those the + two lumps of sugar?’ + </p> + <p> + The priest put down his cup. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I must have forgotten, I believe,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse stared at him and shrugged her shoulders. She folded up inside + the napkin a slice of stale home-made bread which had also been left + untouched on the table. Then just as the priest was about to go out, she + ran after him and knelt down at his feet, exclaiming: ‘Stop, your + shoe-laces are not even fastened. I cannot imagine how your feet can stand + those peasant shoes, you’re such a little, tender man and look as if you + had been preciously spoilt! Ah, the bishop must have known a deal about + you, to go and give you the poorest living in the department.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it was I who chose Les Artaud,’ said the priest, breaking into + another smile. ‘You are very bad-tempered this morning, La Teuse. Are we + not happy here? We have got all we want, and our life is as peaceful as if + in paradise.’ + </p> + <p> + She then restrained herself and laughed in her turn, saying: ‘You are a + holy man, Monsieur le Curé. But come and see what a splendid wash I have + got. That will be better than squabbling with one another.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest was obliged to follow, for she might prevent him going out at + all if he did not compliment her on her washing. As he left the + dining-room he stumbled over a heap of rubbish in the passage. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is this?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + Oh, nothing,’ said La Teuse in her grimest tone. ‘It’s only the parsonage + coming down. However, you are quite content, you’ve got all you want. Good + heavens! there are holes and to spare. Just look at that ceiling, now. + Isn’t it cracked all over? If we don’t get buried alive one of these days, + we shall owe a precious big taper to our guardian angel. However, if it + suits you—It’s like the church. Those broken panes ought to have + been replaced these two years. In winter our Lord gets frozen with the + cold. Besides, it would keep out those rascally sparrows. I shall paste + paper over the holes. You see if I don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A capital idea,’ murmured the priest, ‘they might very well be pasted + over. As to the walls, they are stouter than we think. In my room, the + floor has only given way slightly in front of the window. The house will + see us all buried.’ + </p> + <p> + On reaching the little open shed near the kitchen, in order to please La + Teuse he went into ecstasies over the washing; he even had to dip his + fingers into it and feel it. This so pleased the old woman that her + attentions became quite motherly. She no longer scolded, but ran to fetch + a clothes-brush, saying: ‘You surely are not going out with yesterday’s + mud on your cassock! If you had left it out on the banister, it would be + clean now—it’s still a good one. But do lift it up well when you + cross any field. The thistles tear everything.’ + </p> + <p> + While speaking she kept turning him round like a child, shaking him from + head to foot with her energetic brushing. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there, that will do,’ he said, escaping from her at last. ‘Take + care of Desirée, won’t you? I will tell her I am going out.’ + </p> + <p> + But at this minute a fresh clear voice called to him: ‘Serge! Serge!’ + </p> + <p> + Desirée came flying up, her cheeks ruddy with glee, her head bare, her + black locks twisted tightly upon her neck, and her hands and arms + smothered up to the elbows with manure. She had been cleaning out her + poultry house. When she caught sight of her brother just about to go out + with his breviary under his arm, she laughed aloud, and kissed him on his + mouth, with her arms thrown back behind her to avoid soiling him. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ she hurriedly exclaimed, ‘I should dirty you. Oh! I am having + such fun! You must see the animals when you come back.’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she fled away again. Abbé Mouret then said that he would be back + about eleven for luncheon, and as he started, La Teuse, who had followed + him to the doorstep, shouted after him her last injunctions. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t forget to see Brother Archangias. And look in also at the + Brichets’; the wife came again yesterday about that wedding. Just listen, + Monsieur le Curé! I met their Rosalie. She’d ask nothing better than to + marry big Fortune. Have a talk with old Bambousse; perhaps he will listen + to you now. And don’t come back at twelve o’clock, like the other day. + Come, say you’ll be back at eleven, won’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + But the priest turned round no more. So she went in again, growling + between her teeth: + </p> + <p> + ‘When does he ever listen to me? Barely twenty-six years old and does just + as he likes. To be sure, he’s an old man of sixty for holiness; but then + he has never known life; he knows nothing, it’s no trouble to him to be as + good as a cherub!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + When Abbé Mouret had got beyond all hearing of La Teuse he stopped, + thankful to be alone at last. The church was built on a hillock, which + sloped down gently to the village. With its large gaping windows and + bright red tiles, it stretched out like a deserted sheep-cote. The priest + turned round and glanced at the parsonage, a greyish building springing + from the very side of the church; but as if fearful that he might again be + overtaken by the interminable chatter that had been buzzing in his ears + ever since morning, he turned up to the right again, and only felt safe + when he at last stood before the great doorway, where he could not be seen + from the parsonage. The front of the church, quite bare and worn by the + sunshine and rain of years, was crowned by a narrow open stone belfry, in + which a small bell showed its black silhouette, whilst its rope + disappeared through the tiles. Six broken steps, on one side half buried + in the earth, led up to the lofty arched door, now cracked, smothered with + dust and rust and cobwebs, and so frailly hung upon its outwrenched hinges + that it seemed as if the first slight puff would secure free entrance to + the winds of heaven. Abbé Mouret, who had an affection for this + dilapidated door, leaned against one of its leaves as he stood upon the + steps. Thence he could survey the whole country round at a glance. And + shading his eyes with his hands he scanned the horizon. + </p> + <p> + In the month of May exuberant vegetation burst forth from that stony soil. + Gigantic lavenders, juniper bushes, patches of rank herbage swarmed over + the church threshold, and scattered clumps of dark greenery even to the + very tiles. It seemed as if the first throb of shooting sap in the tough + matted underwood might well topple the church over. At that early hour, + amid all the travail of nature’s growth, there was a hum of vivifying + warmth, and the very rocks quivered as with a long and silent effort. But + the Abbé failed to comprehend the ardour of nature’s painful labour; he + simply thought that the steps were tottering, and thereupon leant against + the other side of the door. + </p> + <p> + The countryside stretched away for a distance of six miles, bounded by a + wall of tawny hills speckled with black pine-woods. It was a fearful + landscape of arid wastes and rocky spurs rending the soil. The few patches + of arable ground were like scattered pools of blood, red fields with rows + of lean almond trees, grey-topped olive trees and long lines of vines, + streaking the soil with their brown stems. It was as if some huge + conflagration had swept by there, scattering the ashes of forests over the + hill-tops, consuming all the grass of the meadow lands, and leaving its + glare and furnace-like heat behind in the hollows. Only here and there was + the softer note of a pale green patch of growing corn. The landscape + generally was wild, lacking even a threadlet of water, dying of thirst, + and flying away in clouds of dust at the least breath of wind. But at the + farthest point where the crumbling hills on the horizon had left a breach + one espied some distant fresh moist greenery, a stretch of the + neighbouring valley fertilised by the Viorne, a river flowing down from + the gorges of the Seille. + </p> + <p> + The priest lowered his dazzled glance upon the village, whose few + scattered houses straggled away below the church—wretched hovels + they were of rubble and boards strewn along a narrow path without sign of + streets. There were about thirty of them altogether, some squatting amidst + muck-heaps, and black with woeful want; others roomier and more + cheerful-looking with their roofs of pinkish tiles. Strips of garden, + victoriously planted amidst stony soil, displayed plots of vegetables + enclosed by quickset hedges. At this hour Les Artaud was empty, not a + woman was at the windows, not a child was wallowing in the dust; parties + of fowls alone went to and fro, ferreting among the straw, seeking food up + to the very thresholds of the houses, whose open doors gaped in the + sunlight. A big black dog seated on his haunches at the entrance to the + village seemed to be mounting guard over it. + </p> + <p> + Languor slowly stole over Abbé Mouret. The rising sun steeped him in such + warmth that he leant back against the church door pervaded by a feeling of + happy restfulness. His thoughts were dwelling on that hamlet of Les + Artaud, which had sprung up there among the stones like one of the knotty + growths of the valley. All its inhabitants were related, all bore the same + name, so that from their very cradle they were distinguished among + themselves by nicknames. An Artaud, their ancestor, had come hither and + settled like a pariah in this waste. His family had grown with all the + wild vitality of the herbage that sucked life from the rocky boulders. It + had at last become a tribe, a rural community, in which cousin-ships were + lost in the mists of centuries. They intermarried with shameless + promiscuity. Not an instance could be cited of any Artaud taking himself a + wife from any neighbouring village; only some of the girls occasionally + went elsewhere. The others were born and died fixed to that spot, + leisurely increasing and multiplying on their dunghills with the + irreflectiveness of trees, and with no definite notion of the world that + lay beyond the tawny rocks, in whose midst they vegetated. And yet there + were already rich and poor among them; fowls having at times disappeared, + the fowl-houses were now closed at night with stout padlocks; moreover one + Artaud had killed another Artaud one evening behind the mill. These folk, + begirt by that belt of desolate hills, were truly a people apart—a + race sprung from the soil, a miniature replica of mankind, three hundred + souls all told, beginning the centuries yet once again. + </p> + <p> + Over the priest the sombre shadows of seminary life still hovered. For + years he had never seen the sun. He perceived it not even now, his eyes + closed and gazing inwards on his soul, and with no feeling for perishable + nature, fated to damnation, save contempt. For a long time in his hours of + devout thought he had dreamt of some hermit’s desert, of some mountain + hole, where no living thing—neither being, plant, nor water—should + distract him from the contemplation of God. It was an impulse springing + from the purest love, from a loathing of all physical sensation. There, + dying to self, and with his back turned to the light of day, he would have + waited till he should cease to be, till nothing should remain of him but + the sovereign whiteness of the soul. To him heaven seemed all white, with + a luminous whiteness as if lilies there snowed down upon one, as if every + form of purity, innocence, and chastity there blazed. But his confessor + reproved him whenever he related his longings for solitude, his cravings + for an existence of Godlike purity; and recalled him to the struggles of + the Church, the necessary duties of the priesthood. Later on, after his + ordination, the young priest had come to Les Artaud at his own request, + there hoping to realise his dream of human annihilation. In that desolate + spot, on that barren soil, he might shut his ears to all worldly sounds, + and live the dreamy life of a saint. For some months past, in truth, his + existence had been wholly undisturbed, rarely had any thrill of the + village-life disturbed him; and even the sun’s heat scarcely brought him + any glow of feeling as he walked the paths, his whole being wrapped in + heaven, heedless of the unceasing travail of life amidst which he moved. + </p> + <p> + The big black dog watching over Les Artaud had determined to come up to + Abbé Mouret, and now sat upon its haunches at the priest’s feet; but the + unconscious man remained absorbed amidst the sweetness of the morning. On + the previous evening he had begun the exercises of the Rosary, and to the + intercession of the Virgin with her Divine Son he attributed the great joy + which filled his soul. How despicable appeared all the good things of the + earth! How thankfully he recognised his poverty! When he entered into holy + orders, after losing on the same day both his father and his mother + through a tragedy the fearful details of which were even now unknown to + him,* he had relinquished all his share of their property to an elder + brother. His only remaining link with the world was his sister; he had + undertaken the care of her, stirred by a kind of religious affection for + her feeble intelligence. The dear innocent was so childish, such a very + little girl, that she recalled to him the poor in spirit to whom the + Gospel promises the kingdom of heaven. Of late, however, she had somewhat + disturbed him; she was growing too lusty, too full of health and life. But + his discomfort was yet of the slightest. His days were spent in that inner + life he had created for himself, for which he had relinquished all else. + He closed the portals of his senses, and sought to free himself from all + bodily needs, so that he might be but a soul enrapt in contemplation. To + him nature offered only snares and abominations; he gloried in maltreating + her, in despising her, in releasing himself from his human slime. And as + the just man must be a fool according to the world, he considered himself + an exile on this earth; his thoughts were solely fixed upon the favours of + Heaven, incapable as he was of understanding how an eternity of bliss + could be weighed against a few hours of perishable enjoyment. His reason + duped him and his senses lied; and if he advanced in virtue it was + particularly by humility and obedience. His wish was to be the last of + all, one subject to all, in order that the divine dew might fall upon his + heart as upon arid sand; he considered himself overwhelmed with reproach + and with confusion, unworthy of ever being saved from sin. He no longer + belonged to himself—blind, deaf, dead to the world as he was. He was + God’s thing. And from the depth of the abjectness to which he sought to + plunge, Hosannahs suddenly bore him aloft, above the happy and the mighty + into the splendour of never-ending bliss. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This forms the subject of M. Zola’s novel, <i>The Conquest of + Plassans</i>. ED. +</pre> + <p> + Thus, at Les Artaud, Abbé Mouret had once more experienced, each time he + read the ‘Imitation,’ the raptures of the cloistered life which he had + longed for at one time so ardently. As yet he had not had to fight any + battle. From the moment that he knelt down, he became perfect, absolutely + oblivious of the flesh, unresisting, undisturbed, as if overpowered by the + Divine grace. Such ecstasy at God’s approach is well known to some young + priests: it is a blissful moment when all is hushed, and the only desire + is but a boundless craving for purity. From no human creature had he + sought his consolations. He who believes a certain thing to be all in all + cannot be troubled: and he did believe that God was all in all, and that + humility, obedience, and chastity were everything. He could remember + having heard temptation spoken of as an abominable torture that tries the + holiest. But he would only smile: God had never left him. He bore his + faith about him thus like a breast-plate protecting him from the slightest + breath of evil. He could recall how he had hidden himself and wept for + very love; he knew not whom he loved, but he wept for love, for love of + some one afar off. The recollection never failed to move him. Later on he + had decided on becoming a priest in order to satisfy that craving for a + superhuman affection which was his sole torment. He could not see where + greater love could be. In that state of life he satisfied his being, his + inherited predisposition, his youthful dreams, his first virile desires. + If temptation must come, he awaited it with the calmness of the seminarist + ignorant of the world. He felt that his manhood had been killed in him: it + gladdened him to feel himself a creature set apart, unsexed, turned from + the usual paths of life, and, as became a lamb of the Lord, marked with + the tonsure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + While the priest pondered the sun was heating the big church-door. Gilded + flies buzzed round a large flower that was blooming between two of the + church-door steps. Abbé Mouret, feeling slightly dazed, was at last about + to move away, when the big black dog sprang, barking violently, towards + the iron gate of the little graveyard on the left of the church. At the + same time a harsh voice called out: ‘Ah! you young rascal! So you stop + away from school, and I find you in the graveyard! Oh, don’t say no: I + have been watching you this quarter of an hour.’ + </p> + <p> + As the priest stepped forward he saw Vincent, whom a Brother of the + Christian Schools was clutching tightly by the ear. The lad was suspended, + as it were, over a ravine skirting the graveyard, at the bottom of which + flowed the Mascle, a mountain torrent whose crystal waters plunged into + the Viorne, six miles away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brother Archangias!’ softly called the priest, as if to appease the + fearful man. + </p> + <p> + The Brother, however, did not release the boy’s ear. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it’s you, Monsieur le Curé?’ he growled. ‘Just fancy, this rascal is + always poking his nose into the graveyard. I don’t know what he can be up + to here. I ought to let go of him and let him smash his skull down there. + It would be what he deserves.’ + </p> + <p> + The lad remained dumb, with his cunning eyes tight shut as he clung to the + bushes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take care, Brother Archangias,’ continued the priest, ‘he might slip.’ + </p> + <p> + And he himself helped Vincent to scramble up again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, my young friend, what were you doing there?’ he asked. ‘You must + not go playing in graveyards.’ + </p> + <p> + The lad had opened his eyes, and crept away, fearfully, from the Brother, + to place himself under the priest’s protection. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said in a low voice, as he raised his bushy head. + ‘There is a tomtit’s nest in the brambles there, under that rock. For over + ten days I’ve been watching it, and now the little ones are hatched, so I + came this morning after serving your mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A tomtit’s nest!’ exclaimed Brother Archangias. ‘Wait a bit! wait a bit!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he stepped aside, picked a clod of earth off a grave and flung + it into the brambles. But he missed the nest. Another clod, however, more + skilfully thrown upset the frail cradle, and precipitated the fledglings + into the torrent below. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, perhaps,’ he continued, clapping his hands to shake off the earth + that soiled them, ‘you won’t come roaming here any more, like a heathen; + the dead will pull your feet at night if you go walking over them again.’ + </p> + <p> + Vincent, who had laughed at seeing the nest dive into the stream, looked + round him and shrugged his shoulders like one of strong mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not afraid,’ he said. ‘Dead folk don’t stir.’ + </p> + <p> + The graveyard, in truth, was not a place to inspire fear. It was a barren + piece of ground whose narrow paths were smothered by rank weeds. Here and + there the soil was bossy with mounds. A single tombstone, that of Abbé + Caffin, brand-new and upright, could be perceived in the centre of the + ground. Save this, all around there were only broken fragments of crosses, + withered tufts of box, and old slabs split and moss-eaten. There were not + two burials a year. Death seemed to make no dwelling in that waste spot, + whither La Teuse came every evening to fill her apron with grass for + Desirée’s rabbits. A gigantic cypress tree, standing near the gate, alone + cast shadow upon the desert field. This cypress, a landmark visible for + nine miles around, was known to the whole countryside as the Solitaire. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s full of lizards,’ added Vincent, looking at the cracks of the + church-wall. ‘One could have a fine lark—’ + </p> + <p> + But he sprang out with a bound on seeing the Brother lift his foot. The + latter proceeded to call the priest’s attention to the dilapidated state + of the gate, which was not only eaten up with rust, but had one hinge off, + and the lock broken. + </p> + <p> + ‘It ought to be repaired,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret smiled, but made no reply. Addressing Vincent, who was romping + with the dog: ‘I say, my boy,’ he asked, ‘do you know where old Bambousse + is at work this morning?’ + </p> + <p> + The lad glanced towards the horizon. ‘He must be at his Olivettes field + now,’ he answered, pointing towards the left. ‘But Voriau will show your + reverence the way. He’s sure to know where his master is.’ And he clapped + his hands and called: ‘Hie! Voriau! hie!’ + </p> + <p> + The big black dog paused a moment, wagging his tail, and seeking to read + the urchin’s eyes. Then, barking joyfully, he set off down the slope to + the village. Abbé Mouret and Brother Archangias followed him, chatting. A + hundred yards further Vincent surreptitiously bolted, and again glided up + towards the church, keeping a watchful eye upon them, and ready to dart + behind a bush if they should look round. With adder-like suppleness, he + once more glided into the graveyard, that paradise full of lizards, nests, + and flowers. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, while Voriau led the way before them along the dusty road, + Brother Archangias was angrily saying to the priest: ‘Let be! Monsieur le + Curé, they’re spawn of damnation, those toads are! They ought to have + their backs broken, to make them pleasing to God. They grow up in + irreligion, like their fathers. Fifteen years have I been here, and not + one Christian have I been able to turn out. The minute they quit my hands, + good-bye! They think of nothing but their land, their vines, their + olive-trees. Not one ever sets foot in church. Brute beasts they are, + struggling with their stony fields! Guide them with the stick, Monsieur le + Curé, yes, the stick!’ + </p> + <p> + Then, after drawing breath, he added with a terrific wave of his hands: + </p> + <p> + ‘Those Artauds, look you, are like the brambles over-running these rocks. + One stem has been enough to poison the whole district. They cling on, they + multiply, they live in spite of everything. Nothing short of fire from + heaven, as at Gomorrha, will clear it all away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We should never despair of sinners,’ said Abbé Mouret, all inward + peacefulness, as he leisurely walked on. + </p> + <p> + ‘But these are the devil’s own,’ broke in the Brother still more + violently. ‘I’ve been a peasant, too. Up to eighteen I dug the earth; and + later on, when I was at the Training College, I had to sweep, pare + vegetables, do all the heavy work. It’s not their toilsome labour I find + fault with. On the contrary, for God prefers the lowly. But the Artauds + live like beasts! They are like their dogs, they never attend mass, and + make a mock of the commandments of God and of the Church. They think of + nothing but their plots of lands, so sweet they are on them!’ + </p> + <p> + Voriau, his tail wagging, kept stopping and moving on again as soon as he + saw that they still followed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘There certainly are some grievous things going on,’ said Abbé Mouret. ‘My + predecessor, Abbé Caffin—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A poor specimen,’ interrupted the Brother. ‘He came here to us from + Normandy owing to some disreputable affair. Once here, his sole thought + was good living; he let everything go to rack and ruin.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no, Abbé Caffin certainly did what he could; but I must own that his + efforts were all but barren in results. My own are mostly fruitless.’ + </p> + <p> + Brother Archangias shrugged his shoulders. He walked on for a minute in + silence, swaying his tall bony frame, which looked as if it had been + roughly fashioned with a hatchet. The sun beat down upon his neck, + shadowing his hard, sword-edged peasant’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen to me, Monsieur le Curé,’ he said at last. ‘I am too much beneath + you to lecture you; but still, I am almost double your age, I know this + part, and therefore I feel justified in telling you that you will gain + nothing by gentleness. The catechism, understand, is enough. God has no + mercy on the wicked. He burns them. Stick to that.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as Abbé Mouret, whose head remained bowed, did not open his mouth, + he went on: ‘Religion is leaving the country districts because it is made + over indulgent. It was respected when it spoke out like an unforgiving + mistress. I really don’t know what they can teach you now in the + seminaries. The new priests weep like children with their parishioners. + God no longer seems the same. I dare say, Monsieur le Curé, that you don’t + even know your catechism by heart now?’ + </p> + <p> + But the priest, wounded by the imperiousness with which the Brother so + roughly sought to dominate him, looked up and dryly rejoined: + </p> + <p> + ‘That will do, your zeal is very praiseworthy. But haven’t you something + to tell me? You came to the parsonage this morning, did you not?’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon Brother Archangias plumply answered: ‘I had to tell you just + what I have told you. The Artauds live like pigs. Only yesterday I learned + that Rosalie, old Bambousse’s eldest daughter, is in the family way. It + happens with all of them before they get married. And they simply laugh at + reproaches, as you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ murmured Abbé Mouret, ‘it is a great scandal. I am just on my way + to see old Bambousse to speak to him about it; it is desirable that they + should be married as soon as possible. The child’s father, it seems, is + Fortune, the Brichets’ eldest son. Unfortunately the Brichets are poor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That Rosalie, now,’ continued the Brother, ‘is just eighteen. Not four + years since I still had her under me at school, and she was already a + gadabout. I have now got her sister Catherine, a chit of eleven, who seems + likely to become even worse than her elder. One comes across her in every + corner with that little scamp, Vincent. It’s no good, you may pull their + ears till they bleed, the woman always crops up in them. They carry + perdition about with them and are only fit to be thrown on a muck-heap. + What a splendid riddance if all girls were strangled at their birth!’ + </p> + <p> + His loathing, his hatred of woman made him swear like a carter. Abbé + Mouret, who had been listening to him with unmoved countenance, smiled at + last at his rabid utterances. He called Voriau, who had strayed into a + field close by. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, look there!’ cried Brother Archangias, pointing to a group of + children playing at the bottom of a ravine, ‘there are my young devils, + who play the truant under pretence of going to help their parents among + the vines! You may be certain that jade of a Catherine is among them.... + There, didn’t I tell you! Till to-night, Monsieur le Curé. Oh, just you + wait, you rascals!’ + </p> + <p> + Off he went at a run, his dirty neckband flying over his shoulder, and his + big greasy cassock tearing up the thistles. Abbé Mouret watched him swoop + down into the midst of the children, who scattered like frightened + sparrows. But he succeeded in seizing Catherine and one boy by the ears + and led them back towards the village, clutching them tightly with his big + hairy fingers, and overwhelming them with abuse. + </p> + <p> + The priest walked on again. Brother Archangias sometimes aroused strange + scruples in his mind. With his vulgarity and coarseness the Brother seemed + to him the true man of God, free from earthly ties, submissive in all to + Heaven’s will, humble, blunt, ready to shower abuse upon sin. He, the + priest, would then feel despair at his inability to rid himself more + completely of his body; he regretted that he was not ugly, unclean, + covered with vermin like some of the saints. Whenever the Brother had + wounded him by some words of excessive coarseness, or by some over-hasty + churlishness, he would blame himself for his refinement, his innate + shrinking, as if these were really faults. Ought he not to be dead to all + the weaknesses of this world? And this time also he smiled sadly as he + thought how near he had been to losing his temper at the Brother’s roughly + put lesson. It was pride, it seemed to him, seeking to work his perdition + by making him despise the lowly. However, in spite of himself, he felt + relieved at being alone again, at being able to walk on gently, reading + his breviary, free at last from the grating voice that had disturbed his + dream of heavenly love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + The road wound on between fallen rocks, among which the peasants had + succeeded here and there in reclaiming six or seven yards of chalky soil, + planted with old olive trees. Under the priest’s feet the dust in the deep + ruts crackled lightly like snow. At times, as he felt a warmer puff upon + his face, he would raise his eyes from his book, as if to seek whence came + this soft caress; but his gaze was vacant, straying without perception + over the glowing horizon, over the twisted outlines of that + passion-breathing landscape as it stretched out in the sun before him, + dry, barren, despairing of the fertilisation for which it longed. And he + would lower his hat over his forehead to protect himself against the warm + breeze and tranquilly resume his reading, his cassock raising behind him a + cloudlet of dust which rolled along the surface of the road. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning, Monsieur le Curé,’ a passing peasant said to him. + </p> + <p> + Sounds of digging alongside the cultivated strips of ground again roused + him from his abstraction. He turned his head and perceived big + knotty-limbed old men greeting him from among the vines. The Artauds were + eagerly satisfying their passion for the soil, in the sun’s full blaze. + Sweating brows appeared from behind the bushes, heaving chests were slowly + raised, the whole scene was one of ardent fructification, through which he + moved with the calm step born of ignorance. No discomfort came to him from + the great travail of love that permeated that splendid morning. + </p> + <p> + ‘Steady! Voriau, you mustn’t eat people!’ some one gaily shouted in a + powerful voice by way of silencing the dog’s loud barks. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret looked up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! it’s you. Fortune?’ he said, approaching the edge of the field in + which the young peasant was at work. ‘I was just on my way to speak to + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Fortune was of the same age as the priest: a bigly built, bold-looking + young fellow, with skin already hardened. He was clearing a small plot of + stony heath. + </p> + <p> + ‘What about, Monsieur le Curé?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘About Rosalie and you,’ replied the priest. + </p> + <p> + Fortune began to laugh. Perhaps he thought it droll that a priest should + interest himself in such a matter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he muttered, ‘I’m not to blame in it nor she either. So much the + worse if old Bambousse refuses to let me have her. You saw yourself how + his dog was trying to bite me just now; he sets him on me.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as Abbé Mouret was about to continue, old Artaud, called Brichet, + whom he had not previously perceived, emerged from the shadow of a bush + behind which he and his wife were eating. He was a little man, withered by + age, with a cringing face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your reverence must have been told a pack of lies,’ he exclaimed. ‘The + youngster is quite ready to marry Rosalie. What’s happened isn’t anybody’s + fault. It has happened to others who got on all right just the same. The + matter doesn’t rest with us. You ought to speak to Bambousse. He’s the one + who looks down on us because he’s got money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, we are very poor,’ whined his wife, a tall lachrymose woman, who + also rose to her feet. ‘We’ve only this scrap of ground where the very + devil seems to have been hailing stones. Not a bite of bread from it, + even. Without you, your reverence, life would be impossible.’ + </p> + <p> + Brichet’s wife was the one solitary devotee of the village. Whenever she + had been to communion, she would hang about the parsonage, well knowing + that La Teuse always kept a couple of loaves for her from her last baking. + At times she was even able to carry off a rabbit or a fowl given her by + Desirée. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no end to the scandals,’ continued the priest. ‘The marriage must + take place without delay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! at once! as soon as the others are agreeable,’ said the old woman, + alarmed about her periodical presents. ‘What do you say, Brichet? we are + not such bad Christians as to go against his reverence?’ + </p> + <p> + Fortune sniggered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m quite ready,’ he said, ‘and so is Rosalie. I saw her yesterday at + the back of the mill. We haven’t quarrelled. We stopped there to have a + bit of a laugh.’ + </p> + <p> + But Abbé Mouret interrupted him: ‘Very well, I am now going to speak to + Bambousse. He is over there, at Les Olivettes, I believe.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest was going off when the mother asked him what had become of her + younger son Vincent, who had left in the early morning to serve mass. + There was a lad now who badly needed his reverence’s admonitions. And she + walked by the priest’s side for another hundred yards, bemoaning her + poverty, the failure of the potato crop, the frost which had nipped the + olive trees, the hot weather which threatened to scorch up the scanty + corn. Then, as she left him, she solemnly declared that her son Fortune + always said his prayers, both morning and evening. + </p> + <p> + Voriau now ran on in front, and suddenly, at a turn in the road, he bolted + across the fields. The priest then struck into a small path leading up a + low hill. He was now at Les Olivettes, the most fertile spot in the + neighbourhood, where the mayor of the commune, Artaud, otherwise + Bambousse, owned several fields of corn, olive plantations, and vines. The + dog was now romping round the skirts of a tall brunette, who burst into a + loud laugh as she caught sight of the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is your father here, Rosalie?’ the latter asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, just across there,’ she said, pointing with her hand and still + smiling. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the part of the field she had been weeding, she walked on before + him with the vigorous springiness of a hard-working woman, her head + unshielded from the sun, her neck all sunburnt, her hair black and coarse + like a horse’s mane. Her green-stained hands exhaled the odour of the + weeds she had been pulling up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father,’ she called out, ‘here’s Monsieur le Curé asking for you.’ + </p> + <p> + And there she remained, bold, unblushing, with a sly smile still hovering + over her features. Bambousse, a stout, sweating, round-faced man, left his + work and gaily came towards the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d take my oath you are going to speak to me about the repairs of the + church,’ he exclaimed, as he clapped his earthy hands. ‘Well, then, + Monsieur le Curé, I can only say no, it’s impossible. The commune hasn’t + got the coin. If the Lord provides plaster and tiles, we’ll provide the + workmen.’ + </p> + <p> + At this jest of his the unbelieving peasant burst into a loud guffaw, + slapped his thighs, coughed, and almost choked himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not for the church I came,’ replied the Abbé Mouret. ‘I wanted to + speak to you about your daughter Rosalie.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rosalie? What has she done to you, then?’ inquired Bambousse, his eyes + blinking. + </p> + <p> + The girl was boldly staring at the young priest, scrutinising his white + hands and slender, feminine neck, as if trying to make him redden. He, + however, bluntly and with unruffled countenance, as if speaking of + something quite indifferent, continued: + </p> + <p> + ‘You know what I mean, Bambousse. She must get married.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, that’s it, is it?’ muttered the old man, with a bantering look. ‘Many + thanks for the message. The Brichets sent you, didn’t they? Mother Brichet + goes to mass, and so you give her a helping hand to marry her son—it’s + all very fine. But, I’ve got nothing to do with that. It doesn’t suit me. + That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the astonished priest represented to him that the scandal must + be stopped, and that he ought to forgive Fortune, as the latter was + willing to make reparation for his transgression, and that, lastly, his + daughter’s reputation demanded a speedy marriage. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ta, ta, ta,’ replied Bambousse, what a lot of words! I shall keep my + daughter, please understand it. All that’s got nothing to do with me. That + Fortune is a beggarly pauper, without a brass farthing. What an easy job, + if one could marry a girl like that! At that rate we should have all the + young things marrying off morning and night. Thank Heaven! I’m not worried + about Rosalie: everybody knows what has happened; but it makes no + difference. She can marry any one she chooses in the neighbourhood.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But the child?’ interrupted the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘The child indeed! There’ll be time enough to think of that when it’s + born.’ + </p> + <p> + Rosalie, perceiving the turn the priest’s application was taking, now + thought it proper to ram her fists into her eyes and whimper. And she even + let herself fall upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up, will you, you hussy!’ howled her father in a rage. And he + proceeded to revile her in the coarsest terms, which made her laugh + silently behind her clenched fists. + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t shut up? won’t you? Just wait a minute then, you jade!’ + continued old Bambousse. And thereupon he picked up a clod of earth and + flung it at her. It burst upon her knot of hair, crumbling down her neck + and smothering her in dust. Dizzy from the blow, she bounded to her feet + and fled, sheltering her head between her hands. But Bambousse had time to + fling two more clods at her, and if the first only grazed her left + shoulder, the next caught her full on the base of the spine, with such + force that she fell upon her knees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bambousse!’ cried the priest, as he wrenched from the peasant’s hand a + number of stones which he had just picked up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let be, Monsieur le Curé,’ said the other. ‘It was only soft earth. I + ought to have thrown these stones at her. It’s easy to see that you don’t + know girls. Hard as nails, all of them. I might duck that one in the well, + I might break all her bones with a cudgel, and she’d still be just the + same. But I’ve got my eye on her, and if I catch her!... Ah! well, they + are all like that.’ + </p> + <p> + He was already comforted. He took a good pull at a big flat bottle of + wine, encased in wicker-work, which lay warming on the hot ground. And + breaking once more into a laugh, he said: ‘If I only had a glass, Monsieur + le Curé, I would offer you some with pleasure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So then,’ again asked the priest, ‘this marriage?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it can’t be; I should get laughed at. Rosalie is a stout wench. She’s + worth a man to me. I shall have to hire a lad the day she goes off.... We + can have another talk about it after the vintage. Besides, I don’t want to + be robbed. Give and take, say I. That’s fair. What do you think?’ + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless for another long half-hour did the priest remain there + preaching to Bambousse, speaking to him of God, and plying him with all + the reasons suited to the circumstances. But the old man had resumed his + work; he shrugged his shoulders, jested, and grew more and more obstinate. + At last, he broke out: ‘But if you asked me for a sack of corn, you would + give me money, wouldn’t you? So why do you want me to let my daughter go + for nothing?’ + </p> + <p> + Much discomfited, Abbé Mouret left him. As he went down the path he saw + Rosalie rolling about under an olive tree with Voriau, who was licking her + face. With her arms whirling, she kept on repeating: ‘You tickle me, you + big stupid. Leave off!’ + </p> + <p> + When she perceived the priest, she made an attempt at a blush, settled her + clothes, and once more raised her fists to her eyes. He, on his part, + sought to console her by promising to attempt some fresh efforts with her + father, adding that, in the meantime, she should do nothing to aggravate + her sin. And then, as she impudently smiled at him, he pictured hell, + where wicked women burn in torment. And afterwards he left her, his duty + done, his soul once more full of the serenity which enabled him to pass + undisturbed athwart the corruptions of the world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + The morning was becoming terribly hot. In that huge rocky amphitheatre the + sun kindled a furnace-like glare from the moment when the first fine + weather began. By the planet’s height in the sky Abbé Mouret now perceived + that he had only just time to return home if he wished to get there by + eleven o’clock and escape a scolding from La Teuse. Having finished + reading his breviary and made his application to Bambousse, he swiftly + retraced his steps, gazing as he went at his church, now a grey spot in + the distance, and at the black rigid silhouette which the big + cypress-tree, the Solitaire, set against the blue sky. Amidst the + drowsiness fostered by the heat, he thought of how richly that evening he + might decorate the Lady chapel for the devotions of the month of Mary. + Before him the road offered a carpet of dust, soft to the tread and of + dazzling whiteness. + </p> + <p> + At the Croix-Verte, as the Abbé was about to cross the highway leading + from Plassans to La Palud, a gig coming down the hill compelled him to + step behind a heap of stones. Then, as he crossed the open space, a voice + called to him: ‘Hallo, Serge, my boy!’ + </p> + <p> + The gig had pulled up and from it a man leant over. The priest recognised + him—he was an uncle of his, Doctor Pascal Rougon, or Monsieur + Pascal, as the poor folk of Plassans, whom he attended for nothing, + briefly styled him. Although barely over fifty, he was already snowy + white, with a big beard and abundant hair, amidst which his handsome + regular features took an expression of shrewdness and benevolence.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See M. Zola’s novels, <i>Dr. Pascal</i> and <i>The Fortune of the + Rougons</i>.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + ‘So you potter about in the dust at this hour of the day?’ he said gaily, + as he stooped to grasp the Abbé’s hands. ‘You’re not afraid of sunstroke?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more than you are, uncle,’ answered the priest, laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I have the hood of my trap to shield me. Besides, sick folks won’t + wait. People die at all times, my boy.’ And he went on to relate that he + was now on his way to old Jeanbernat, the steward of the Paradou, who had + had an apoplectic stroke the night before. A neighbour, a peasant on his + way to Plassans market, had summoned him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He must be dead by this time,’ the doctor continued. ‘However, we must + make sure.... Those old demons are jolly tough, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + He was already raising his whip, when Abbé Mouret stopped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay! what o’clock do you make it, uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A quarter to eleven.’ + </p> + <p> + The Abbé hesitated; he already seemed to hear La Teuse’s terrible voice + bawling in his ears that his luncheon was getting cold. But he plucked up + courage and added swiftly: ‘I’ll go with you, uncle. The unhappy man may + wish to reconcile himself to God in his last hour.’ + </p> + <p> + Doctor Pascal could not restrain a laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, Jeanbernat!’ he said; ‘ah, well! if ever you convert him! Never + mind, come all the same. The sight of you is enough to cure him.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest got in. The doctor, apparently regretting his jest, displayed + an affectionate warmth of manner, whilst from time to time clucking his + tongue by way of encouraging his horse. And out of the corner of his eye + he inquisitively observed his nephew with the keenness of a scientist bent + on taking notes. In short kindly sentences he inquired about his life, his + habits, and the peaceful happiness he enjoyed at Les Artaud. And at each + satisfactory reply he murmured, as if to himself in a tone of reassurance: + ‘Come, so much the better; that’s just as it should be!’ + </p> + <p> + He displayed peculiar anxiety about the young priest’s state of health. + And Serge, greatly surprised, assured him that he was in splendid trim, + and had neither fits of giddiness or of nausea, nor headaches whatsoever. + </p> + <p> + ‘Capital, capital,’ reiterated his uncle Pascal. ‘In spring, you see, the + blood is active. But you are sound enough. By-the-bye, I saw your brother + Octave at Marseilles last month. He is off to Paris, where he will get a + fine berth in a high-class business. The young beggar, a nice life he + leads.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What life?’ innocently inquired the priest. + </p> + <p> + To avoid replying the doctor chirruped to his horse, and then went on: + ‘Briefly, everybody is well—your aunt Felicite, your uncle Rougon, + and the others. Still, that does not hinder our needing your prayers. You + are the saint of the family, my lad; I rely upon you to save the whole + lot.’ + </p> + <p> + He laughed, but in such a friendly, good-humoured way that Serge himself + began to indulge in jocularity. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ continued Pascal, ‘there are some among the lot whom it won’t + be easy to lead to Paradise. Some nice confessions you’d hear if all came + in turn. For my part, I can do without their confessions; I watch them + from a distance; I have got their records at home among my botanical + specimens and medical notes. Some day I shall be able to draw up a + wondrously interesting diagram. We shall see; we shall see!’ + </p> + <p> + He was forgetting himself, carried away by his enthusiasm for science. A + glance at his nephew’s cassock pulled him up short. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for you, you’re a parson,’ he muttered; ‘you did well; a parson’s a + very happy man. The calling absorbs you, eh? And so you’ve taken to the + good path. Well! you would never have been satisfied otherwise. Your + relatives, starting like you, have done a deal of evil, and still they are + unsatisfied. It’s all logically perfect, my lad. A priest completes the + family. Besides, it was inevitable. Our blood was bound to run to that. So + much the better for you; you have had the most luck.’ Correcting himself, + however, with a strange smile, he added: ‘No, it’s your sister Desirée who + has had the best luck of all.’ + </p> + <p> + He whistled, whipped up his horse, and changed the conversation. The gig, + after climbing a somewhat steep slope, was threading its way through + desolate ravines; at last it reached a tableland, where the hollow road + skirted an interminable and lofty wall. Les Artaud had disappeared; they + found themselves in the heart of a desert. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are getting near, are we not?’ asked the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the Paradou,’ replied the doctor, pointing to the wall. ‘Haven’t + you been this way before, then? We are not three miles from Les Artaud. A + splendid property it must have been, this Paradou. The park wall this side + alone is quite a mile and a half long. But for over a hundred years it’s + all been running wild.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There are some fine trees,’ observed the Abbé, as he looked up in + astonishment at the luxuriant mass of foliage which jutted over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that part is very fertile. In fact, the park is a regular forest + amidst the bare rocks which surround it. The Mascle, too, rises there; I + have heard four or five springs mentioned, I fancy.’ + </p> + <p> + In short sentences, interspersed with irrelevant digressions, he then + related the story of the Paradou, according to the current legend of the + countryside. In the time of Louis XV., a great lord had erected a + magnificent palace there, with vast gardens, fountains, trickling streams, + and statues—a miniature Versailles hidden away among the stones, + under the full blaze of the southern sun. But he had there spent but one + season with a lady of bewitching beauty, who doubtless died there, as none + had ever seen her leave. Next year the mansion was destroyed by fire, the + park doors were nailed up, the very loopholes of the walls were filled + with mould; and thus, since that remote time, not a glance had penetrated + that vast enclosure which covered the whole of one of the plateaux of the + Garrigue hills. + </p> + <p> + ‘There can be no lack of nettles there,’ laughingly said Abbé Mouret. + ‘Don’t you find that the whole wall reeks of damp, uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + A pause followed, and he asked: + </p> + <p> + ‘And whom does the Paradou belong to now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, nobody knows,’ the doctor answered. ‘The owner did come here once, + some twenty years ago. But he was so scared by the sight of this adders’ + nest that he has never turned up since. The real master is the caretaker, + that old oddity, Jeanbernat, who has managed to find quarters in a lodge + where the stones still hang together. There it is, see—that grey + building yonder, with its windows all smothered in ivy.’ + </p> + <p> + The gig passed by a lordly iron gate, ruddy with rust, and lined inside + with a layer of boards. The wide dry throats were black with brambles. A + hundred yards further on was the lodge inhabited by Jeanbernat. It stood + within the park, which it overlooked. But the old keeper had apparently + blocked up that side of his dwelling, and had cleared a little garden by + the road. And there he lived, facing southwards, with his back turned upon + the Paradou, as if unaware of the immensity of verdure that stretched away + behind him. + </p> + <p> + The young priest jumped down, looking inquisitively around him and + questioning the doctor, who was hurriedly fastening the horse to a ring + fixed in the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘And the old man lives all alone in this out-of-the-way hole?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, quite alone,’ replied his uncle, adding, however, the next minute: + ‘Well, he has with him a niece whom he had to take in, a queer girl, a + regular savage. But we must make haste. The whole place looks death-like.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + The house with its shutters closed seemed wrapped in slumber as it stood + there in the midday sun, amidst the hum of the big flies that swarmed all + up the ivy to the roof tiles. The sunlit ruin was steeped in happy + quietude. When the doctor had opened the gate of the narrow garden, which + was enclosed by a lofty quickset hedge, there, in the shadow cast by a + wall, they found Jeanbernat, tall and erect, and calmly smoking his pipe, + as in the deep silence he watched his vegetables grow. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, are you up then, you humbug?’ exclaimed the astonished doctor. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you were coming to bury me, were you?’ growled the old man harshly. ‘I + don’t want anybody. I bled myself.’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped short as he caught sight of the priest, and assumed so + threatening an expression that the doctor hastened to intervene. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my nephew,’ he said; ‘the new Curé of Les Artaud—a good + fellow, too. Devil take it, we haven’t been bowling over the roads at this + hour of the day to eat you, Jeanbernat.’ + </p> + <p> + The old man calmed down a little. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want any shavelings here,’ he grumbled. ‘They’re enough to make + one croak. Mind, doctor, no priests, and no physics when I go off, or we + shall quarrel. Let him come in, however, as he is your nephew.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, struck dumb with amazement, could not speak a word. He stood + there in the middle of the path scanning that strange solitaire, with + scorched, brick-tinted face, and limbs all withered and twisted like a + bundle of ropes, who seemed to bear the burden of his eighty years with a + scornful contempt for life. When the doctor attempted to feel his pulse, + his ill-humour broke out afresh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do leave me in peace! I bled myself with my knife, I tell you. It’s all + over, now. Who was the fool of a peasant who disturbed you? The doctor + here, and the priest as well, why not the mutes too! Well, it can’t be + helped, people will be fools. It won’t prevent us from having a drink, + eh?’ + </p> + <p> + He fetched a bottle and three glasses, and stood them on an old table + which he brought out into the shade. Then, having filled the glasses to + the brim, he insisted on clinking them. His anger had given place to + jeering cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + ‘It won’t poison you, Monsieur le Curé,’ he said. ‘A glass of good wine + isn’t a sin. Upon my word, however, this is the first time I ever clinked + a glass with a cassock, but no offence to you. That poor Abbé Caffin, your + predecessor, refused to argue with me. He was afraid.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeanbernat gave vent to a hearty laugh, and then went on: ‘Just fancy, he + had pledged himself that he would prove to me that God exists. So, + whenever I met him, I defied him to do it; and he sloped off crestfallen, + I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What, God does not exist!’ cried Abbé Mouret, roused from his silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! just as you please,’ mockingly replied Jeanbernat. ‘We’ll begin + together all over again, if it’s any pleasure to you. But I warn you that + I’m a tough hand at it. There are some thousands of books in one of the + rooms upstairs, which were rescued from the fire at the Paradou: all the + philosophers of the eighteenth century, a whole heap of old books on + religion. I’ve learned some fine things from them. I’ve been reading them + these twenty years. Marry! you’ll find you’ve got some one who can talk, + Monsieur le Curé.’ + </p> + <p> + He had risen, slowly waving his hand towards the surrounding horizon, to + the earth and to the sky, and repeating solemnly: ‘There’s nothing, + nothing, nothing. When the sun is snuffed out, all will be at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + Doctor Pascal nudged Abbé Mouret with his elbow. With blinking eyes he was + curiously observing the old man and nodding approvingly in order to induce + him to talk. ‘So you are a materialist, Jeanbernat?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I am only a poor man,’ replied the old fellow, relighting his pipe. + ‘When Count de Corbiere, whose foster-brother I was, died from a fall from + his horse, his children sent me here to look after this park of the + Sleeping Beauty, in order to get rid of me. I was sixty years old then, + and I thought I was about done. But death forgot me; and I had to make + myself a burrow. If one lives all alone, look you, one gets to see things + in rather a queer fashion. The trees are no longer trees, the earth puts + on the ways of a living being, the stones seem to tell you tales. A parcel + of rubbish, eh? But I know some secrets that would fairly stagger you. + Besides, what do you think there is to do in this devilish desert? I read + the old books; it was more amusing than shooting. The Count, who used to + curse like a heathen, was always saying to me: “Jeanbernat, my boy, I + fully expect to meet you again in the hot place, so that you will be able + to serve me there as you have up here.”’ + </p> + <p> + Once more he waved his hand to the horizon and added: ‘You hear, nothing; + there’s nothing. It’s all foolery.’ + </p> + <p> + Dr. Pascal began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘A pleasant piece of foolery, at any rate,’ he said. ‘Jeanbernat, you are + a deceiver. I suspect you are in love, in spite of your affectation of + being <i>blasé</i>. You were speaking very tenderly of the trees and + stones just now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, no, I assure you,’ murmured the old man, ‘I have done with that. At + one time, it’s true, when I first knew you and used to go herborising with + you, I was stupid enough to love all sorts of things I came across in that + huge liar, the country. Fortunately, the old volumes have killed all that. + I only wish my garden was smaller; I don’t go out into the road twice a + year. You see that bench? That’s where I spend all my time, just watching + my lettuces grow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what about your rounds in the park?’ broke in the doctor. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the park!’ repeated Jeanbernat, with a look of profound surprise. + ‘Why, it’s more than twelve years since I set foot in it! What do you + suppose I could do inside that cemetery? It’s too big. It’s stupid, what + with those endless trees and moss everywhere and broken statues, and holes + in which one might break one’s neck at every step. The last time I went in + there, it was so dark under the trees, there was such a stink of wild + flowers, and such queer breezes blew along the paths, that I felt almost + afraid. So I have shut myself up to prevent the park coming in here. A + patch of sunlight, three feet of lettuce before me, and a big hedge + shutting out all the view, why, that’s more than enough for happiness. + Nothing, that’s what I’d like, nothing at all, something so tiny that + nothing from outside could come to disturb me. Seven feet of earth, if you + like, just to be able to croak on my back.’ + </p> + <p> + He struck the table with his fist, and suddenly raised his voice to call + out to Abbé Mouret: ‘Come, just another glass, your reverence. The old + gentleman isn’t at the bottom of the bottle, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest felt ill at ease. To lead back to God that singular old man, + whose reason seemed to him to be strangely disordered, appeared a task + beyond his powers. He now remembered certain bits of gossip he had heard + from La Teuse about the Philosopher, as the peasants of Les Artaud dubbed + Jeanbernat. Scraps of scandalous stories vaguely floated in his memory. He + rose, making a sign to the doctor that he wished to leave this house, + where he seemed to inhale an odour of damnation. But, in spite of his + covert fears, a strange feeling of curiosity made him linger. He simply + walked to the end of the garden, throwing a searching glance into the + vestibule, as if to see beyond it, behind the walls. All he could + perceive, however, through the gaping doorway, was the black staircase. So + he came back again, and sought for some hole, some glimpse of that sea of + foliage which he knew was near by the mighty murmur that broke upon the + house, like the sound of waves. + </p> + <p> + ‘And is the little one well?’ asked the doctor, taking up his hat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty well,’ answered Jeanbernat. ‘She’s never here. She often + disappears all day long—still, she may be in the upstair rooms.’ + </p> + <p> + He raised his head and called: ‘Albine! Albine!’ Then with a shrug of his + shoulders, he added: ‘Yes, my word, she is a nice hussy.... Well, till + next time, Monsieur le Curé. I’m always at your disposal.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, however, had no time to accept the Philosopher’s challenge. A + door suddenly opened at the end of the vestibule; a dazzling breach was + made in the black darkness of the wall, and through the breach came a + vision of a virgin forest, a great depth of woodland, beneath a flood of + sunbeams. In that sudden blaze of light the priest distinctly perceived + certain far-away things: a large yellow flower in the middle of a lawn, a + sheet of water falling from a lofty rock, a colossal tree filled with a + swarm of birds; and all this steeped, lost, blazing in such a tangle of + greenery, such riotous luxuriance of vegetation, that the whole horizon + seemed one great burst of shooting foliage. The door banged to, and + everything vanished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! the jade!’ cried Jeanbernat, ‘she was in the Paradou again!’ + </p> + <p> + Albine was now laughing on the threshold of the vestibule. She wore an + orange-coloured skirt, with a large red kerchief fastened round her waist, + thus looking like some gipsy in holiday garb. And she went on laughing, + her head thrown back, her bosom swelling with mirth, delighted with her + flowers, wild flowers which she had plaited into her fair hair, fastened + to her neck, her bodice, and her bare slender golden arms. She seemed like + a huge nosegay, exhaling a powerful perfume. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, you are a beauty!’ growled the old man. ‘You smell of weeds enough to + poison one—would any one think she was sixteen, that doll?’ + </p> + <p> + Albine remained unabashed, however, and laughed still more heartily. + Doctor Pascal, who was her great friend, let her kiss him. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you are not frightened in the Paradou?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Frightened? What of?’ she said, her eyes wide open with astonishment. + ‘The walls are too high, no one can get in. There’s only myself. It is my + garden, all my very own. A fine big one, too. I haven’t found out where it + ends yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the animals?’ interrupted the doctor. + </p> + <p> + ‘The animals? Oh! they don’t hurt; they all know me well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is very dark under the trees?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Course! there’s shade: if there were none, the sun would burn my face up. + It is very pleasant in the shade among the leaves.’ + </p> + <p> + She flitted about, filling the little garden with the rustling sweep of + her skirts, and scattering round the pungent odour of wild flowers which + clung to her. She had smiled at Abbé Mouret without trace of shyness, + without heed of the astonished look with which he observed her. The priest + had stepped aside. That fair-haired maid, with long oval face, glowing + with life, seemed to him to be the weird mysterious offspring of the + forest of which he had caught a glimpse in a sheet of sunlight. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, I have got some blackbird nestlings; would you like them?’ Albine + asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thanks,’ he answered, laughing. ‘You should give them to the Curé’s + sister; she is very fond of pets. Good day, Jeanbernat.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine, however, had fastened on the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are the vicar of Les Artaud, aren’t you? You have a sister? I’ll go + and see her. Only you must not speak to me about God. My uncle will not + have it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You bother us, be off,’ exclaimed Jeanbernat, shrugging his shoulders. + Then bounding away like a goat, dropping a shower of flowers behind her, + she disappeared. The slam of a door was heard, and from behind the house + came bursts of laughter, which died away in the distance like the + scampering rush of some mad animal let loose among the grass. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll see, she will end by sleeping in the Paradou,’ muttered the old + man with indifference. + </p> + <p> + And as he saw his visitors off, he added: ‘If you should find me dead one + of these fine days, doctor, just do me the favour of pitching me into the + muck-pit there, behind my lettuces. Good evening, gentlemen.’ + </p> + <p> + He let the wooden gate which closed the hedge fall to again, and the house + assumed once more its aspect of happy peacefulness in the noonday + sunlight, amidst the buzzing of the big flies that swarmed all up the ivy + even to the roof tiles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The gig once more rolled along the road skirting the Paradou’s + interminable wall. Abbé Mouret, still silent, scanned with upturned eyes + the huge boughs which stretched over that wall, like the arms of giants + hidden there. All sorts of sounds came from the park: rustling of wings, + quivering of leaves, furtive bounds at which branches snapped, mighty + sighs that bowed the young shoots—a vast breath of life sweeping + over the crests of a nation of trees. At times, as he heard a birdlike + note that seemed like a human laugh, the priest turned his head, as if he + felt uneasy. + </p> + <p> + ‘A queer girl!’ said his uncle as he eased the reins a little. ‘She was + nine years old when she took up her quarters with that old heathen. Some + brother of his had ruined himself, though in what I can’t remember. The + little one was at school somewhere when her father killed himself. She was + even quite a little lady, up to reading, embroidery, chattering, and + strumming on the piano. And such a coquette too! I saw her arrive with + open-worked stockings, embroidered skirts, frills, cuffs, a heap of + finery. Ah, well! the finery didn’t last long!’ + </p> + <p> + He laughed. A big stone nearly upset the gig. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be lucky if I don’t leave a wheel in this cursed road!’ he + muttered. ‘Hold on, my boy.’ + </p> + <p> + The wall still stretched beside them: the priest still listened. + </p> + <p> + ‘As you may well imagine,’ continued the doctor, ‘the Paradou, what with + its sun, its stones, and its thistles, would wreck a whole outfit every + day. Three or four mouthfuls, that’s all it made of all the little one’s + beautiful dresses. She used to come back naked. Now she dresses like a + savage. To-day she was rather presentable; but sometimes she has scarcely + anything on beyond her shoes and chemise. Did you hear her? The Paradou is + hers. The very day after she came she took possession of it. She lives in + it; jumps out of the window when Jeanbernat locks the door, bolts off in + spite of all, goes nobody knows whither, buries herself in some invisible + burrows known only to herself. She must have a fine time in that + wilderness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hark, uncle!’ interrupted Abbé Mouret. ‘Isn’t that some animal running + behind the wall?’ + </p> + <p> + Uncle Pascal listened. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said after a minute’s silence, ‘it is the rattle of the trap on + the stones. No, the child doesn’t play the piano now. I believe she has + even forgotten how to read. Just picture to yourself a young lady gone + back to a state of primevalness, turned out to play on a desert island. My + word, if ever you get to know of a girl who needs proper bringing up, I + advise you not to entrust her to Jeanbernat. He has a most primitive way + of letting nature alone. When I ventured to speak to him about Albine he + answered me that he must not prevent trees from growing as they pleased. + He says he is for the normal development of temperaments.... All the same, + they are very interesting, both of them. I never come this way without + paying them a visit.’ + </p> + <p> + The gig was now emerging from the hollowed road. At this point the wall of + the Paradou turned and wound along the crest of the hills as far as one + could see. As Abbé Mouret turned to take a last look at that grey-hued + barrier, whose impenetrable austerity had at last begun to annoy him, a + rustling of shaken boughs was heard and a clump of young birch trees + seemed to bow in greeting from above the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew some animal was running behind,’ said the priest. + </p> + <p> + But, although nobody could be seen, though nothing was visible in the air + above save the birches rocking more and more violently, they heard a + clear, laughing voice call out: ‘Good-bye, doctor! good-bye, Monsieur le + Curé! I am kissing the tree, and the tree is sending you my kisses.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why! it is Albine,’ exclaimed Doctor Pascal. ‘She must have followed the + trap at a run. Jumping over bushes is mere play to her, the little elf!’ + </p> + <p> + And he in his turn shouted out: + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, my pet! How tall you must be to bow like that.’ + </p> + <p> + The laughter grew louder, the birches bowed still lower, scattering their + leaves around even on the hood of the gig. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am as tall as the trees; all the leaves that fall are kisses,’ replied + the voice now mellowed by distance, so musical, so merged into the + rippling whispers of the park, that the young priest was thrilled. + </p> + <p> + The road grew better. On coming down the slope Les Artaud reappeared in + the midst of the scorched plain. When the gig reached the turning to the + village, Abbé Mouret would not let his uncle drive him back to the + vicarage. He jumped down, saying: + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thanks, I prefer to walk: it will do me good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, just as you like,’ at last answered the doctor. And with a clasp of + the hand, he added: ‘Well, if you only had such parishioners as that old + brute Jeanbernat, you wouldn’t often be disturbed. However, you yourself + wanted to come. And mind you keep well. At the slightest ache, night or + day, send for me. You know I attend all the family gratis.... There, + good-bye, my boy.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + Abbé Mouret felt more at ease when he found himself again alone, walking + along the dusty road. The stony fields brought him back to his dream of + austerity, of an inner life spent in a desert. From the trees all along + the sunken road disturbing moisture had fallen on his neck, which now the + burning sun was drying. The sight of the lean almond trees, the scanty + corn crops, the weak vines, on either side of the way, soothed him, + delivered him from the perturbation into which the lusty atmosphere of the + Paradou had thrown him. Amid the blinding glare that flowed from heaven + over the bare land, Jeanbernat’s blasphemies no longer cast even a shadow. + A thrill of pleasure ran through the priest as he raised his head and + caught sight of the solitaire’s motionless bar-like silhouette and the + pink patch of tiles on the church. + </p> + <p> + But, as he walked on, fresh anxiety beset the Abbé. La Teuse would give + him a fine reception; for his luncheon must have been waiting nearly two + hours for him. He pictured her terrible face, the flood of words with + which she would greet him, the angry clatter of kitchen ware which he + would hear the whole afternoon. When he had got through Les Artaud, his + fear became so lively that he hesitated, full of trepidation, and wondered + if it would not be better to go round and reach the parsonage by way of + the church. But, while he deliberated, La Teuse herself appeared on the + doorstep of the parsonage, her cap all awry, and her hands on her hips. + With drooping head he had perforce to climb the slope under her + storm-laden gaze, which he could feel weighing upon his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe I am rather late, my good Teuse,’ he stammered, as he turned + the path’s last bend. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse waited till he stood quite close before her. She then gave him a + furious glance, and, without a word, turned and stalked before him into + the dining-room, banging her big heels upon the floor-tiles and so rigid + with ire that she hardly limped at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have had so many things to do,’ began the priest, scared by this dumb + reception. ‘I have been running about all the morning.’ + </p> + <p> + But she cut him short with another look, so fixed, so full of anger, that + he felt his legs give way under him. He sat down, and began to eat. She + waited on him in the sharp, mechanical manner of an automaton, all but + breaking the plates with the violence with which she set them down. The + silence became so awful that, choking with emotion, he was unable to + swallow his third mouthful. + </p> + <p> + ‘My sister has had her luncheon?’ he asked. ‘Quite right of her. Luncheon + should always be served whenever I am kept out.’ + </p> + <p> + No answer came. La Teuse stood there waiting to remove his plate as soon + as he should have emptied it. Thereupon, feeling that he could not + possibly eat with those implacable eyes crushing him, he pushed his plate + away. This angry gesture acted on La Teuse like a whip stroke, rousing her + from her obstinate stiffness. She fairly jumped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! that’s how it is!’ she exclaimed. ‘There you are again, losing your + temper! Very well, I am off; you can pay my fare, so that I may go back + home. I have had enough of Les Artaud, and your church, and everything + else!’ + </p> + <p> + She took off her apron with trembling hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must have seen that I didn’t wish to say anything to you. A nice + life, indeed! Only mountebanks do such things, Monsieur le Curé! This is + eleven o’clock, ain’t it! Aren’t you ashamed of sitting at table when it’s + almost two o’clock? It’s not like a Christian, no, it is not like a + Christian!’ + </p> + <p> + And, taking her stand before him, she went on: ‘Well, where do you come + from? whom have you seen? what business can have kept you? If only you + were a child you would have the whip. It isn’t the place for a priest to + be, on the roads in the blazing sun like a tramp without a roof to put + over his head. A fine state you are in, with your shoes all white and your + cassock smothered in dust! Who will brush your cassock for you? Who will + buy you another one? Speak out, will you; tell me what you have been + doing! My word! if everybody didn’t know you, they would end by thinking + queer things about you. And shall I tell you? Why, I won’t say but what + you may have been up to something wrong. When folks lunch at such hours + they are capable of anything!’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret let the storm blow over him. At the old servant’s wrathful + words he experienced a kind of relief. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, my good Teuse,’ he said, ‘you will first put your apron on again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ she cried, ‘it’s all over, I am going.’ + </p> + <p> + But he got up and, laughing, tied her apron round her waist. She struggled + against him and stuttered: ‘I tell you no! You are a wheedler. I can see + through your game, I see you want to come it over me with your honeyed + words. Where did you go? We’ll see afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + He gaily sat down to table again like a man who has gained a victory. + </p> + <p> + ‘First, I must be allowed to eat. I am dying with hunger,’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ she murmured, her pity moved. ‘Is there any common sense in + it? Would you like me to fry you a couple of eggs? It would not take long. + Well, if you have enough. But everything is cold! And I had taken such + pains with your aubergines! Nice they are now! They look like old + shoe-leather. Luckily you haven’t got a tender tooth like poor Monsieur + Caffin. Yes, you have some good points, I don’t deny it.’ + </p> + <p> + Thus chattering, she waited on him with all a mother’s care. After he had + finished she ran to the kitchen to see if the coffee was still warm. She + frisked about and limped most outrageously in her delight at having made + things up with him. As a rule Abbé Mouret fought shy of coffee, which + always upset his nervous system; but on this occasion, to ratify the + conclusion of peace, he took the cup she brought him. And as he lingered + at table she sat down opposite him and repeated gently, like a woman + tortured by curiosity: + </p> + <p> + ‘Where have you been, Monsieur le Curé?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he answered with a smile, ‘I have seen the Brichets, I have spoken + to Bambousse.’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he had to relate to her what the Brichets had said, what + Bambousse had decided, and how they looked, and where they were at work. + When he repeated to her the answer of Rosalie’s father, ‘Of course!’ she + exclaimed, ‘if the child should die her mishap would go for nothing.’ And + clasping her hands with a look of envious admiration she added, ‘How you + must have chattered, your reverence! More than half the day spent to + obtain such a fine result! You took it easy coming home? It must have been + very hot on the road?’ + </p> + <p> + The Abbé, who by this time had risen, made no answer. He had been on the + point of speaking about the Paradou, and asking for some information + concerning it. But a fear of being flooded with eager questions, and a + kind of vague unavowed shame, made him keep silence respecting his visit + to Jeanbernat. He cut all further questions short by asking: + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is my sister? I don’t hear her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along, sir,’ said La Teuse, beginning to laugh, and raising her + finger to her lips. + </p> + <p> + They went into the next room, a country drawing-room, hung with faded + wall-paper showing large grey flowers, and furnished with four armchairs + and a sofa, covered with horse-hair. On the sofa now slept Desirée, + stretched out at full length, with her head resting on her clenched hands. + The pronounced curve of her bosom was raised somewhat by her upstretched + arms, bare to the elbows. She was breathing somewhat heavily, her red lips + parted, and thus showing her teeth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord! isn’t she sleeping sound!’ whispered La Teuse. ‘She didn’t even + hear you pitching into me just now. Well, she must be precious tired. Just + fancy, she was cleaning up her yard till nearly noon. And when she had + eaten something, she came and dropped down there like a shot. She has not + stirred since.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment the priest gazed lovingly at her. ‘We must let her have as + much rest as she wants,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course. Isn’t it a pity she’s such an innocent? Just look at those big + arms! Whenever I dress her I always think what a fine woman she would have + made. Ay, she would have brought you some splendid nephews, sir. Don’t you + think she is like that stone lady in Plassans corn-market?’ + </p> + <p> + She spoke thus of a Cybele stretched upon sheaves of wheat, the work of + one of Puget’s pupils, which was carved on the frontal of the market + building. Without replying, however, Abbé Mouret gently pushed her out of + the room, and begged her to make as little noise as possible. Till + evening, therefore, perfect silence settled on the parsonage. La Teuse + finished her washing in the shed. The priest, seated at the bottom of the + little garden, his breviary fallen on his lap, remained absorbed in pious + thoughts, while all around him rosy petals rained from the blossoming + peach-trees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + About six o’clock there came a sudden wakening. A noise of doors opening + and closing, accompanied by bursts of laughter, shook the whole house. + Desirée appeared, her hair all down and her arms still half bare. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge!’ she called. + </p> + <p> + And catching sight of her brother in the garden, she ran up to him and sat + down for a minute on the ground at his feet, begging him to follow her: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do come and see the animals! You haven’t seen the animals yet, have you? + If you only knew how beautiful they are now!’ + </p> + <p> + She had to beg very hard, for the yard rather scared him. But when he saw + tears in Desirée’s eyes, he yielded. She threw herself on his neck in a + sudden puppy-like burst of glee, laughing more than ever, without + attempting to dry her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! how nice you are!’ she stammered, as she dragged him off. ‘You shall + see the hens, the rabbits, the pigeons, and my ducks which have got fresh + water, and my goat, whose room is as clean as mine now. I have three geese + and two turkeys, you know. Come quick. You shall see all.’ + </p> + <p> + Desirée was then twenty-two years old. Reared in the country by her nurse, + a peasant woman of Saint-Eutrope, she had grown up anyhow. Her brain void + of all serious thoughts, she had thriven on the fat soil and open air of + the country, developing physically but never mentally, growing into a + lovely animal—white, with rosy blood and firm skin. She was not + unlike a high-bred donkey endowed with the power of laughter. Although she + dabbled about from morning till night, her delicate hands and feet, the + supple outlines of her hips, the bourgeois refinement of her maiden form + remained unimpaired; so that she was in truth a creature apart—neither + lady nor peasant—but a girl nourished by the soil, with the broad + shoulders and narrow brow of a youthful goddess. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless it was by reason of her weak intellect that she was drawn + towards animals. She was never happy save with them; she understood their + language far better than that of mankind, and looked after them with + motherly affection. Her reasoning powers were deficient, but in lieu + thereof she had an instinct which put her on a footing of intelligence + with them. At their very first cry of pain she knew what ailed them; she + would choose dainties upon which they would pounce greedily. A single + gesture from her quelled their squabbles. She seemed to know their good or + their evil character at a glance; and related such long tales about the + tiniest chick, with such an abundance and minuteness of detail, as to + astound those to whom one chicken was exactly like any other. Her farmyard + had thus become a country, as it were, over which she reigned; a country + complex in its organisation, disturbed by rebellions, peopled by the most + diverse creatures whose records were known to her alone. So accurate was + her instinct that she detected the unfertile eggs in a sitting, and + foretold the number of a litter of rabbits. + </p> + <p> + When, at sixteen, Desirée became a young woman, she retained all her + wonted health; and rapidly developed, with round, free-swaying bust, broad + hips like those of an antique statue, the full growth indeed of a vigorous + animal. One might have thought that she had sprung from the rich soil of + her poultry-yard, that she absorbed the sap with her sturdy legs, which + were as firm as young trees. And nought disturbed her amidst all this + plenitude. She found continuous satisfaction in being surrounded by birds + and animals which ever increased and multiplied, their fruitfulness + filling her with delight. Nothing could have been healthier. She + innocently feasted on the odour and warmth of life, knowing no depraved + curiosity, but retaining all the tranquillity of a beautiful animal, + simply happy at seeing her little world thus multiply, feeling as if she + thereby became a mother, the common natural mother of one and all. + </p> + <p> + Since she had been living at Les Artaud, she had spent her days in + complete beatitude. At last she was satisfying the dream of her life, the + only desire which had worried her amidst her weak-minded puerility. She + had a poultry-yard, a nook all to herself, where she could breed animals + to her heart’s content. And she almost lived there, building + rabbit-hutches with her own hands, digging out a pond for the ducks, + knocking in nails, fetching straw, allowing no one to assist her. All that + La Teuse had to do was to wash her afterwards. The poultry-yard was + situated behind the cemetery; and Desirée often had to jump the wall, and + run hither and thither among the graves after some fowl whom curiosity had + led astray. Right at the end was a shed giving accommodation to the fowls + and the rabbits; to the right was a little stable for the goat. Moreover, + all the animals lived together; the rabbits ran about with the fowls, the + nanny-goat would take a footbath in the midst of the ducks; the geese, the + turkeys, the guinea-fowls, and the pigeons all fraternised in the company + of three cats. Whenever Desirée appeared at the wooden fence which + prevented her charges from making their way into the church, a deafening + uproar greeted her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh! can’t you hear them?’ she said to her brother, as they reached the + dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + But, when she had admitted him and closed the gate behind them, she was + assailed so violently that she almost disappeared. The ducks and the + geese, opening and shutting their beaks, tugged at her skirts; the greedy + hens sprang up and pecked her hands; the rabbits squatted on her feet and + then bounded up to her knees; whilst the three cats leapt upon her + shoulders, and the goat bleated in its stable at being unable to reach + her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave me alone, do! all you creatures!’ she cried with a hearty sonorous + laugh, feeling tickled by all the feathers, claws, and beaks and paws + rubbing against her. + </p> + <p> + However, she did not attempt to free herself. As she often said, she would + have let herself be devoured; it seemed so sweet to feel all this life + cling to her and encompass her with the warmth of eider-down. At last only + one cat persisted in remaining on her back. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s Moumou,’ she said. ‘His paws are like velvet.’ Then, calling her + brother’s attention to the yard, she proudly added: ‘See, how clean it + is!’ + </p> + <p> + The yard had indeed been swept out, washed, and raked over. But the + disturbed water and the forked-up litter exhaled so fetid and powerful an + odour that Abbé Mouret half choked. The dung was heaped against the + graveyard wall in a huge smoking mound. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a pile, eh?’ continued Desirée, leading her brother into the pungent + vapour, ‘I put it all there myself, nobody helped me. Go on, it isn’t + dirty. It cleans. Look at my arms.’ + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she held out her arms, which she had merely dipped into a + pail of water—regal arms they were, superbly rounded, blooming like + full white roses amidst the manure. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes,’ gently said the priest, ‘you have worked hard. It’s very nice + now.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he turned towards the wicket, but she stopped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do wait a bit. You shall see them all. You have no idea—’ And so + saying, she dragged him to the rabbit house under the shed. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are young ones in all the hutches,’ she said, clapping her hands in + glee. + </p> + <p> + Then at great length she proceeded to explain to him all about the + litters. He had to crouch down and come close to the wire netting, whilst + she gave him minute details. The mother does, with big restless ears, eyed + him askance, panting and motionless with fear. Then, in one hutch, he saw + a hairy cavity wherein crawled a living heap, an indistinct dusky mass + heaving like a single body. Close by some young ones, with enormous heads, + ventured to the edge of the hole. A little farther were yet stronger ones, + who looked like young rats, ferreting and leaping about with their raised + rumps showing their white scuts. Others, white ones with pale ruby eyes, + and black ones with jet eyes, galloped round their hutches with playful + grace. Now a scare would make them bolt off swiftly, revealing at every + leap their slender reddened paws. Next they would squat down all in a + heap, so closely packed that their heads could no longer be seen. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is you they are frightened at,’ Desirée kept on saying. ‘They know me + well.’ + </p> + <p> + She called them and drew some bread-crust from her pocket. The little + rabbits then became more confident, and, with puckered noses, kept sidling + up, and rearing against the netting one by one. She kept them like that + for a minute to show her brother the rosy down upon their bellies, and + then gave her crust to the boldest one. Upon this the whole of them + flocked up, sliding forward and squeezing one another, but never + quarreling. At one moment three little ones were all nibbling the same + piece of crust, but others darted away, turning to the wall so as to eat + in peace, while their mothers in the rear remained snuffing distrustfully + and refused the crusts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! the greedy little things!’ exclaimed Desirée. ‘They would eat like + that till to-morrow morning! At night, even, you can bear them crunching + the leaves they have overlooked in the day-time.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest had risen as if to depart, but she never wearied of smiling on + her dear little ones. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see the big one there, that’s all white, with black ears—Well! + he dotes on poppies. He is very clever at picking them out from the other + weeds. The other day he got the colic. So I took him and kept him warm in + my pocket. Since then he has been quite frisky.’ + </p> + <p> + She poked her fingers through the wire netting and stroked the rabbits’ + backs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wouldn’t you say it was satin?’ she continued. ‘They are dressed like + princes. And ain’t they coquettish! Look, there’s one who is always + cleaning himself. He wears the fur off his paws.... If only you knew how + funny they are! I say nothing, but I see all their little games. That grey + one looking at us, for instance, used to hate a little doe, which I had to + put somewhere else. There were terrible scenes between them. It would take + too long to tell you all, but the last time he gave her a drubbing, when I + came up in a rage, what do you think I saw? Why that rascal huddled up at + the back there as if he was just at his last gasp. He wanted to make me + believe that it was he who had to complain of her.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Desirée paused to apostrophise the rabbit. ‘Yes, you may listen to + me; you’re a rogue!’ And turning towards her brother, ‘He understands all + I say,’ she added softly, with a wink. + </p> + <p> + But Abbé Mouret could stand it no longer. He was perturbed by the heat + that emanated from the litters, the life that crawled under the hair + plucked from the does’ bellies, exhaling powerful emanations. On the other + hand, Desirée, as if slowly intoxicated, was growing brighter and pinker. + </p> + <p> + ‘But there’s nothing to take you away!’ she cried; ‘you always seem + anxious to go off. You must see my little chicks! They were born last + night.’ + </p> + <p> + She took some rice and threw a handful before her. The hen gravely drew + near, clucking to the little band of chickens that followed her chirping + and scampering as if in bewilderment. When they were fairly in the middle + of the scattered rice the hen eagerly pecked at it, and threw down the + grains she cracked, while her little ones hastily began to feed. All the + charm of infancy was theirs. Half-naked as it were, with round heads, eyes + sparkling like steel needles, beaks so queerly set, and down so quaintly + ruffled up, they looked like penny toys. Desirée laughed with enjoyment at + sight of them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What little loves they are!’ she stammered. + </p> + <p> + She took up two of them, one in each hand, and smothered them with eager + kisses. And then the priest had to inspect them all over, while she coolly + said to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t easy to tell the cocks. But I never make a mistake. This one is + a hen, and this one is a hen too.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she set them on the ground again. Other hens were now coming up to + eat the rice. A large ruddy cock with flaming plumage followed them, + lifting his large feet with majestic caution. + </p> + <p> + ‘Alexander is getting splendid,’ said the Abbé, to please his sister. + </p> + <p> + Alexander was the cock’s name. He looked up at the young girl with his + fiery eye, his head turned round, his tail outspread, and then installed + himself close by her skirts. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is very fond of me,’ she said. ‘Only I can touch him. He is a good + bird. There are fourteen hens, and never do I find a bad egg in the nests. + Do I, Alexander?’ + </p> + <p> + She stooped; the bird did not fly from her caress. A rush of blood seemed + to set his comb aflame; flapping his wings, and stretching out his neck, + he burst into a long crow which rang out like a blast from a brazen + throat. Four times did he repeat his crow while all the cocks of Les + Artaud answered in the distance. Desirée was greatly amused by her + brother’s startled looks. + </p> + <p> + ‘He deafens one, eh?’ she said. ‘He has a splendid voice. But he’s not + vicious, I assure you, though the hens are—You remember the big + speckled one, that used to lay yellow eggs? Well, the day before yesterday + she hurt her foot. When the others saw the blood they went quite mad. They + all followed her, pecking at her and drinking her blood, so that by the + evening they had eaten up her foot. I found her with her head behind a + stone, like an idiot, saying nothing, and letting herself be devoured.’ + </p> + <p> + The remembrance of the fowls’ voracity made her laugh. She calmly related + other cruelties of theirs: young chickens devoured, of which she had only + found the necks and wings, and a litter of kittens eaten up in the stable + in a few hours. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might give them a human being,’ she continued, ‘they’d finish him. + And aren’t they tough livers! They get on with a broken limb even. They + may have wounds, big holes in their bodies, and still they’ll gobble their + victuals. That’s what I like them for; their flesh grows again in two + days; they are always as warm as if they had a store of sunshine under + their feathers. When I want to give them a treat, I cut them up some raw + meat. And worms too! Wait, you’ll see how they love them.’ + </p> + <p> + She ran to the dungheap, and unhesitatingly picked up a worm she found + there. The fowls darted at her hands; but to amuse herself with the sight + of their greediness she held the worm high above them. At last she opened + her fingers, and forthwith the fowls hustled one another and pounced upon + the worm. One of them fled with it in her beak, pursued by the others; it + was thus taken, snatched away, and retaken many times until one hen, with + a mighty gulp, swallowed it altogether. At that they all stopped short + with heads thrown back, and eyes on the alert for another worm. Desirée + called them by their names, and talked pettingly to them; while Abbé + Mouret retreated a few steps from this display of voracious life. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I am not at all comfortable,’ he said to his sister, when she tried + to make him feel the weight of a fowl she was fattening. ‘It always makes + me uneasy to touch live animals.’ + </p> + <p> + He tried to smile, but Desirée taxed him with cowardice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah well, what about my ducks, and geese, and turkeys?’ said she. ‘What + would you do if you had all those to look after? Ducks are dirty, if you + like. Do you hear them shaking their bills in the water? And when they + dive, you can only see their tails sticking straight up like ninepins. + Geese and turkeys, too, are not easy to manage. Isn’t it fun to see them + walking along with their long necks, some quite white and others quite + black? They look like ladies and gentlemen. And I wouldn’t advise you to + trust your finger to them. They would swallow it at a gulp. But my + fingers, they only kiss—see!’ + </p> + <p> + Her words were cut short by a joyous bleat from the goat, which had at + last forced the door of the stable open. Two bounds and the animal was + close to her, bending its forelegs, and affectionately rubbing its horns + against her. To the priest, with its pointed beard and obliquely set eyes, + it seemed to wear a diabolical grin. But Desirée caught it round the neck, + kissed its head, played and ran with it, and talked about how she liked to + drink its milk. She often did so, she said, when she was thirsty in the + stable. + </p> + <p> + ‘See, it has plenty of milk,’ she added, pointing to the animal’s udder. + </p> + <p> + The priest lowered his eyes. He could remember having once seen in the + cloister of Saint-Saturnin at Plassans a horrible stone gargoyle, + representing a goat and a monk; and ever since he had always looked on + goats as dissolute creatures of hell. His sister had only been allowed to + get one after weeks of begging. For his part, whenever he came to the + yard, he shunned all contact with the animal’s long silky coat, and + carefully guarded his cassock from the touch of its horns. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, I’ll let you go now,’ said Desirée, becoming aware of his + growing discomfort. ‘But you must just let me show you something else + first. Promise not to scold me, won’t you? I have not said anything to you + about it, because you wouldn’t have allowed it.... But if you only knew + how pleased I am!’ + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she put on an entreating expression, clasped her hands, and + laid her head upon her brother’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Another piece of folly, no doubt,’ he murmured, unable to refrain from + smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t mind, will you?’ she continued, her eyes glistening with + delight. ‘You won’t be angry?—He is so pretty!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she ran to open the low door under the shed, and forthwith a + little pig bounded into the middle of the yard. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! isn’t he a cherub?’ she exclaimed with a look of profound rapture as + she saw him leap out. + </p> + <p> + The little pig was indeed charming, quite pink, his snout washed clean by + the greasy slops placed before him, though incessant routing in his trough + had left a ring of dirt about his eyes. He trotted about, hustled the + fowls, rushing to gobble up whatever was thrown them, and upsetting the + little yard with his sudden turns and twists. His ears flapped over his + eyes, his snout went snorting over the ground, and with his slender feet + he resembled a toy animal on wheels. From behind, his tail looked like a + bit of string that served to hang him up by. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t have this beast here!’ exclaimed the priest, terribly put out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Serge, dear old Serge,’ begged Desirée again, ‘don’t be so unkind. + See, what a harmless little thing he is! I’ll wash him, I’ll keep him very + clean. La Teuse went and had him given her for me. We can’t send him back + now. See, he is looking at you; he wants to smell you. Don’t be afraid, he + won’t eat you.’ + </p> + <p> + But she broke off, seized with irresistible laughter. The little pig had + blundered in a dazed fashion between the goat’s legs, and tripped her up. + And he was now madly careering round, squeaking, rolling, scaring all the + denizens of the poultry-yard. To quiet him Desirée had to get him an + earthen pan full of dish-water. In this he wallowed up to his ears, + splashing and grunting, while quick quivers of delight coursed over his + rosy skin. And now his uncurled tail hung limply down. + </p> + <p> + The stirring of this foul water put a crowning touch to Abbé Mouret’s + disgust. Ever since he had been there, he had choked more and more; his + hands and chest and face were afire, and he felt quite giddy. The odour of + the fowls and rabbits, the goat, and the pig, all mingled in one + pestilential stench. The atmosphere, laden with the ferments of life, was + too heavy for his maiden shoulders. And it seemed to him that Desirée had + grown taller, expanding at the hips, waving huge arms, sweeping the ground + with her skirts, and stirring up all that powerful odour which overpowered + him. He had only just time to open the wicket. His feet clung to the stone + flags still dank with manure, in such wise that it seemed as if he were + held there by some clasp of the soil. And suddenly, despite himself, there + came back to him a memory of the Paradou, with its huge trees, its black + shadows, its penetrating perfumes. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, you are quite red now,’ Desirée said to him as she joined him + outside the wicket. ‘Aren’t you pleased to have seen everything? Do you + hear the noise they are making?’ + </p> + <p> + On seeing her depart, the birds and animals had thrown themselves against + the trellis work emitting piteous cries. The little pig, especially, gave + vent to prolonged whines that suggested the sharpening of a saw. Desirée, + however, curtsied to them and kissed her finger-tips to them, laughing at + seeing them all huddled together there, like so many lovers of hers. Then, + hugging her brother, as she accompanied him to the garden, she whispered + into his ear with a blush: ‘I should so like a cow.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, with a ready gesture of disapproval. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, not now,’ she hurriedly went on. ‘We’ll talk about it again later + on—— But there would be room in the stable. A lovely white cow + with red spots. You’d soon see what nice milk we should have. A goat + becomes too little in the end. And when the cow has a calf!’ + </p> + <p> + At the mere thought of this she skipped and clapped her hands with glee; + and to the priest she seemed to have brought the poultry-yard away with + her in her skirts. So he left her at the end of the garden, sitting in the + sunlight on the ground before a hive, whence the bees buzzed like golden + berries round her neck, along her bare arms and in her hair, without + thought of stinging her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + Brother Archangias dined at the parsonage every Thursday. As a rule he + came early so as to talk over parish matters. It was he who, for the last + three months, had kept the Abbé informed of all the affairs of the valley. + That Thursday, while waiting till La Teuse should call them, they strolled + about in front of the church. The priest, on relating his interview with + Bambousse, was surprised to find that the Brother thought the peasant’s + reply quite natural. + </p> + <p> + ‘The man’s right,’ said the Ignorantin.* ‘You don’t give away chattels + like that. Rosalie is no great bargain, but it’s always hard to see your + own daughter throw herself away on a pauper.’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A popular name in France for a Christian Brother.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Still,’ rejoined Abbé Mouret, ‘a marriage is the only way of stopping the + scandal.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother shrugged his big shoulders and laughed aggravatingly. ‘Do you + think you’ll cure the neighbourhood with that marriage?’ he exclaimed. + ‘Before another two years Catherine will be following her sister’s + example. They all go the same way, and as they end by marrying, they snap + their fingers at every one. These Artauds flourish in it all, as on a + congenial dungheap. There is only one possible remedy, as I have told you + before: wring all the girls’ necks if you don’t want the country to be + poisoned. No husbands, Monsieur le Curé, but a good thick stick!’ + </p> + <p> + Then calming down a bit, he added: ‘Let every one do with their own as + they think best.’ + </p> + <p> + He went on to speak about fixing the hours for the catechism classes; but + Abbé Mouret replied in an absent-minded way, his eyes dwelling on the + village at his feet in the setting sun. The peasants were wending their + way homewards, silently and slowly, with the dragging steps of wearied + oxen returning to their sheds. Before the tumble-down houses stood women + calling to one another, carrying on bawling conversations from door to + door, while bands of children filled the roadway with the riot of their + big clumsy shoes, grovelling and rolling and pushing each other about. A + bestial odour ascended from that heap of tottering houses, and the priest + once more fancied himself in Desirée’s poultry-yard, where life ever + increased and multiplied. Here, too, was the same incessant travail, which + so disturbed him. Since morning his mind had been running on that episode + of Rosalie and Fortune, and now his thoughts returned to it, to the foul + features of existence, the incessant, fated task of Nature, which sowed + men broadcast like grains of wheat. The Artauds were a herd penned in + between four ranges of hills, increasing, multiplying, spreading more and + more thickly over the land with each successive generation. + </p> + <p> + ‘See,’ cried Brother Archangias, interrupting his discourse to point to a + tall girl who was letting her sweetheart snatch a kiss, ‘there is another + hussy over there!’ + </p> + <p> + He shook his long black arms at the couple and made them flee. In the + distance, over the crimson fields and the peeling rocks, the sun was dying + in one last flare. Night gradually came on. The warm fragrance of the + lavender became cooler on the wings of the light evening breeze which now + arose. From time to time a deep sigh fell on the ear as if that fearful + land, consumed by ardent passions, had at length grown calm under the soft + grey rain of twilight. Abbé Mouret, hat in hand, delighted with the + coolness, once more felt quietude descend upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur le Curé! Brother Archangias!’ cried La Teuse. ‘Come quick! The + soup is on the table.’ + </p> + <p> + It was cabbage soup, and its odoriferous steam filled the parsonage + dining-room. The Brother seated himself and fell to, slowly emptying the + huge plate that La Teuse had put down before him. He was a big eater, and + clucked his tongue as each mouthful descended audibly into his stomach. + Keeping his eyes on his spoon, he did not speak a word. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t my soup good, then, Monsieur le Curé?’ the old servant asked the + priest. ‘You are only fiddling with your plate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not a bit hungry, my good Teuse,’ Serge replied, smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! how can one wonder at it when you go on as you do! But you would + have been hungry, if you hadn’t lunched at past two o’clock.’ + </p> + <p> + Brother Archangias, tilting into his spoon the last few drops of soup + remaining in his plate, said gravely: ‘You should be regular in your + meals, Monsieur le Curé.’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment Desirée, who also had finished her soup, sedately and in + silence, rose and followed La Teuse to the kitchen. The Brother, then left + alone with Abbé Mouret, cut himself some long strips of bread, which he + ate while waiting for the next dish. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you made a long round to-day?’ he asked the priest. But before the + other could reply a noise of footsteps, exclamations, and ringing + laughter, arose at the end of the passage, in the direction of the yard. A + short altercation apparently took place. A flute-like voice which + disturbed the Abbé rose in vexed and hurried accents, which finally died + away in a burst of glee. + </p> + <p> + ‘What can it be?’ said Serge, rising from his chair. + </p> + <p> + But Desirée bounded in again, carrying something hidden in her gathered-up + skirt. And she burst out excitedly: ‘Isn’t she queer? She wouldn’t come in + at all. I caught hold of her dress; but she is awfully strong; she soon + got away from me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom on earth is she talking about?’ asked La Teuse, running in from the + kitchen with a dish of potatoes, across which lay a piece of bacon. + </p> + <p> + The girl sat down, and with the greatest caution drew from her skirt a + blackbird’s nest in which three wee fledglings were slumbering. She laid + it on her plate. The moment the little birds felt the light, they + stretched out their feeble necks and opened their crimson beaks to ask for + food. Desirée clapped her hands, enchanted, seized with strange emotion at + the sight of these hitherto unknown creatures. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s that Paradou girl!’ exclaimed the Abbé suddenly, remembering + everything. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse had gone to the window. ‘So it is,’ she said. ‘I might have known + that grasshopper’s voice—— Oh! the gipsy! Look, she’s stopped + there to spy on us.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret drew near. He, too, thought that he could see Albine’s + orange-coloured skirt behind a juniper bush. But Brother Archangias, in a + towering passion, raised himself on tiptoe behind him, and, stretching out + his fist and wagging his churlish head, thundered forth: ‘May the devil + take you, you brigand’s daughter! I will drag you right round the church + by your hair if ever I catch you coming and casting your evil spells + here!’ + </p> + <p> + A peal of laughter, fresh as the breath of night, rang out from the path, + followed by light hasty footsteps and the swish of a dress rustling + through the grass like an adder. Abbé Mouret, standing at the window, saw + something golden glide through the pine trees like a moonbeam. The breeze, + wafted in from the open country, was now laden with that penetrating + perfume of verdure, that scent of wildflowers, which Albine had scattered + from her bare arms, unfettered bosom, and streaming tresses at the + Paradou. + </p> + <p> + ‘An accursed soul! a child of perdition!’ growled Brother Archangias, as + he reseated himself at the dinner table. He fell greedily upon his bacon, + and swallowed his potatoes whole instead of bread. La Teuse, however, + could not persuade Desirée to finish her dinner. That big baby was lost in + ecstasy over the nestlings, asking questions, wanting to know what food + they ate, if they laid eggs, and how the cockbirds could be known. + </p> + <p> + The old servant, however, was troubled by a suspicion, and taking her + stand on her sound leg, she looked the young curé in the face. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you know the Paradou people?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he simply told the truth, relating the visit he had paid to old + Jeanbernat. La Teuse exchanged scandalised glances with Brother + Archangias. At first she answered nothing, but went round and round the + table, limping frantically and stamping hard enough with her heels to + split the flooring. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might have spoken to me of those people these three months past,’ + said the priest at last. ‘I should have known at any rate what sort of + people I was going to call upon.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse stopped short as if her legs had just broken. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t tell falsehoods, Monsieur le Curé,’ she stuttered, ‘don’t tell + them; you will only make your sin still worse. How dare you say I haven’t + spoken to you of the Philosopher, that heathen who is the scandal of the + whole neighbourhood? The truth is, you never listen to me when I talk. It + all goes in at one ear and out at the other. Ah, if you did listen to me, + you’d spare yourself a good deal of trouble!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I, too, have spoken to you about those abominations,’ affirmed the + Brother. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret lightly shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well, I didn’t remember it,’ + he said. It was only when I found myself at the Paradou that I fancied I + recollected certain tales. Besides, I should have gone to that unhappy man + all the same as I thought him in danger of death.’ + </p> + <p> + Brother Archangias, his mouth full, struck the table violently with his + knife, and roared: ‘Jeanbernat is a dog; he ought to die like a dog.’ Then + seeing the priest about to protest he cut him short: ‘No, no, for him + there is no God, no penitence, no mercy. It would be better to throw the + host to the pigs than carry it to that scoundrel.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he helped himself to more potatoes, and with his elbows on the table, + his chin in his plate, began chewing furiously. La Teuse, her lips + pinched, quite white with anger, contented herself with saying dryly: ‘Let + it be, his reverence will have his own way. He has secrets from us now.’ + </p> + <p> + Silence reigned. For a moment one only heard the working of Brother + Archangias’s jaws, and the extraordinary rumbling of his gullet. Desirée, + with her bare arms round the nest in her plate, smiled to the little ones, + talking to them slowly and softly in a chirruping of her own which they + seemed to understand. + </p> + <p> + ‘People say what they have done when they have nothing to hide,’ suddenly + cried La Teuse. + </p> + <p> + And then silence reigned again. What exasperated the old servant was the + mystery the priest seemed to make about his visit to the Paradou. She + deemed herself a woman who had been shamefully deceived. Her curiosity + smarted. She again walked round the table, not looking at the Abbé, not + addressing anybody, but comforting herself with soliloquy. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it; that’s why we have lunch so late! We go gadding about till two + o’clock in the afternoon. We go into such disreputable houses that we + don’t even dare to tell what we’ve done. And then we tell lies, we deceive + everybody.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But nobody,’ gently interrupted Abbé Mouret, who was forcing himself to + eat a little more, so as to prevent La Teuse from getting crosser than + ever, ‘nobody asked me if I had been to the Paradou. I have not had to + tell any lies.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse, however, went on as if she had never heard him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, we go ruining our cassock in the dust, we come home rigged up like a + thief. And if some kind person takes an interest in us, and questions us + for our own good, we push her about and treat her like a good-for-nothing + woman, whom we can’t trust. We hide things like a slyboots, we’d rather + die than breathe a word; we’re not even considerate enough to enliven our + home by relating what we’ve seen.’ + </p> + <p> + She turned to the priest, and looked him full in the face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you take that to yourself. You are a close one, you’re a bad man!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon she fell to crying and the Abbé had to soothe her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur Caffin used to tell me everything,’ she moaned out. + </p> + <p> + However, she soon grew calmer. Brother Archangias was finishing a big + piece of cheese, apparently quite unruffled by the scene. In his opinion + Abbé Mouret really needed being kept straight, and La Teuse was right in + making him feel the reins. Having drunk a last glassful of the weak wine, + the Brother threw himself back in his chair to digest his meal. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well now,’ finally asked the old servant, ‘what did you see at the + Paradou? Tell us, at any rate.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret smiled and related in a few words how strangely Jeanbernat had + received him. La Teuse, after overwhelming him with questions, broke out + into indignant exclamations, while Brother Archangias clenched his fists + and brandished them aloft. + </p> + <p> + ‘May Heaven crush him!’ said he, ‘and burn both him and his witch!’ + </p> + <p> + In his turn the Abbé then endeavoured to elicit some fresh particulars + about the people at the Paradou, and listened intently to the Brother’s + monstrous narrative. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that little she-devil came and sat down in the school. It’s a long + time ago now, she might then have been about ten. Of course, I let her + come; I thought her uncle was sending her to prepare for her first + communion. But for two months she utterly revolutionised the whole class. + She made herself worshipped, the minx! She knew all sorts of games, and + invented all sorts of finery with leaves and shreds of rags. And how quick + and clever she was, too, like all those children of hell! She was the top + one at catechism. But one fine morning the old man burst in just in the + middle of our lessons. He was going to smash everything, and shouted that + the priests had taken his child from him. We had to get the rural + policeman to turn him out. As to the little one, she bolted. I could see + her through the window, in a field opposite, laughing at her uncle’s + frenzy. She had been coming to school for the last two months without his + even suspecting it. He had regularly scoured the country after her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s never taken her first communion,’ exclaimed La Teuse below her + breath with a slight shudder. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, never,’ rejoined Brother Archangias. ‘She must be sixteen now. She’s + growing up like a brute beast. I have seen her running on all fours in a + thicket near La Palud.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On all fours,’ muttered the servant, turning towards the window with + superstitious anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret attempted to express some doubt, but the Brother burst out: + ‘Yes, on all fours! And she jumped like a wild cat. If I had only had a + gun I could have put a bullet in her. We kill creatures that are far more + pleasing to God than she is. Besides, every one knows she comes + caterwauling every night round Les Artaud. She howls like a beast. If ever + a man should fall into her clutches, she wouldn’t leave him a scrap of + skin on his bones, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother’s hatred of womankind was boiling over. He banged the table + with his fist, and poured forth all his wonted abuse. + </p> + <p> + ‘The devil’s in them. They reek of the devil! And that’s what bewitches + fools.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest nodded approvingly. Brother Archangias’s outrageous violence + and La Teuse’s loquacious tyranny were like castigation with thongs, which + it often rejoiced him to find lashing his shoulders. He took a pious + delight in sinking into abasement beneath their coarse speech. He seemed + to see the peace of heaven behind contempt of the world and degradation of + his whole being. It was delicious to inflict mortification upon his body, + to drag his susceptible nature through a gutter. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nought but filth,’ he muttered as he folded up his napkin. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse began to clear the table and wished to remove the plate on which + Desirée had laid the blackbird’s nest. You are not going to bed here, I + suppose, mademoiselle,’ she said. ‘Do leave those nasty things.’ + </p> + <p> + Desirée, however, defended her plate. She covered the nest with her bare + arms, no longer gay, but cross at being disturbed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope those birds are not going to be kept,’ exclaimed Brother + Archangias. ‘It would bring bad luck. You must wring their necks.’ + </p> + <p> + And he already stretched out his big hands; but the girl rose and stepped + back quivering, hugging the nest to her bosom. She stared fixedly at the + Brother, her lips curling upwards, like those of a wolf about to bite. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t touch the little things,’ she stammered. ‘You are ugly.’ + </p> + <p> + With such singular contempt did she emphasise that last word that Abbé + Mouret started as if the Brother’s ugliness had just struck him for the + first time. The latter contented himself with growling. He had always felt + a covert hatred for Desirée, whose lusty physical development offended + him. When she had left the room, still walking backwards, and never taking + her eyes from him, he shrugged his shoulders and muttered between his + teeth some coarse abuse which no one heard. + </p> + <p> + ‘She had better go to bed,’ said La Teuse. ‘She would only bore us + by-and-by in church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has any one come yet?’ asked Abbé Mouret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, the girls have been outside a long time with armfuls of boughs. I am + just going to light the lamps. We can begin whenever you like.’ + </p> + <p> + A few seconds later she could be heard swearing in the sacristy because + the matches were damp. Brother Archangias, who remained alone with the + priest, sourly inquired: ‘For the month of Mary, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ replied Abbé Mouret. ‘The last few days the girls about here were + hard at work and couldn’t come as usual to decorate the Lady Chapel. So + the ceremony was postponed till to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A nice custom,’ muttered the Brother. ‘When I see them all putting up + their boughs I feel inclined to knock them down and make them confess + their misdeeds before touching the altar. It’s a shame to allow women to + rustle their dresses so near the holy relics.’ + </p> + <p> + The Abbé made an apologetic gesture. He had only been at Les Artaud a + little while, he must follow the customs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whenever you like, Monsieur le Curé, we’re ready!’ now called out La + Teuse. + </p> + <p> + But Brother Archangias detained him a minute. ‘I am off,’ he said. + ‘Religion isn’t a prostitute that it should be decorated with flowers and + laces.’ + </p> + <p> + He walked slowly to the door. Then once more he stopped, and lifting one + of his hairy fingers added: ‘Beware of your devotion to the Virgin.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + On entering the church Abbé Mouret found nine or ten big girls awaiting + him with boughs of ivy, laurel, and rosemary. Few garden flowers grew on + the rocks of Les Artaud, so the custom was to decorate the Lady altar with + a greenery which might last throughout the month of May. Thereto La Teuse + would add a few wallflowers whose stems were thrust into old decanters. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you let me do it, Monsieur le Curé?’ she asked. ‘You are not used to + it—— Come, stand there in front of the altar. You can tell me + if the decorations please you.’ + </p> + <p> + He consented, and it was she who really directed the arrangements. Having + climbed upon a pair of steps she bullied the girls as they came up to her + in turn with their leafy contributions. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not so fast, now! You must give me time to fix the boughs. We can’t have + all these bundles coming down on his reverence’s head—— Come + on, Babet, it’s your turn. What’s the good of staring at me like that with + your big eyes? Fine rosemary yours is, my word! as yellow as a thistle. + You next, La Rousse. Ah, well, that is splendid laurel! You got that out + of your field at Croix-Verte, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + The big girls laid their branches on the altar, which they kissed; and + there they lingered for a while, handing up the greenery to La Teuse. The + sly look of devotion they had assumed on stepping on to the altar steps + was quickly set aside, and soon they were laughing, digging each other + with their knees, swaying their hips against the altar’s edge, and + thrusting their bosoms against the tabernacle itself. Over them the tall + Virgin in gilded plaster bent her tinted face, and smiled with her rosy + lips upon the naked Jesus she bore upon her left arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it, Lisa!’ cried La Teuse; ‘why don’t you sit on the altar while + you’re about it? Just pull your petticoats straight, will you? Aren’t you + ashamed of behaving like that?—If any one of you lolls about I’ll + lay her boughs across her face.—Can’t you hand me the things + quietly?’ + </p> + <p> + Then turning round, she asked: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you like it, sir? Do you think it will do?’ + </p> + <p> + She had converted the space behind the Virgin’s statue into a verdant + niche, whence leafy sprays projected on either side, forming a bower, and + drooping over in front like palm leaves. The priest expressed his + approval, but ventured to remark: ‘I think there ought to be a cluster of + more delicate foliage up above.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ grumbled La Teuse. ‘But they only bring me laurel and rosemary—I + should like to know who has brought an olive branch. Not one, you bet! + They are afraid of losing a single olive, the heathens!’ + </p> + <p> + At this, however, Catherine came up laden with an enormous olive bough + which completely hid her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you’ve got some, you minx!’ continued the old servant. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ one of the other girls exclaimed, ‘she stole it. I saw + Vincent breaking it off while she kept a look-out.’ + </p> + <p> + But Catherine flew into a rage and swore it was not true. She turned, and + thrusting her auburn head through the greenery, which she still tightly + held, she started lying with marvellous assurance, inventing quite a long + story to prove that the olive bough was really hers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides,’ she added, ‘all the trees belong to the Blessed Virgin.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret was about to intervene, but La Teuse sharply inquired if they + wanted to make game of her and keep her arms up there all night. At last + she proceeded to fasten the olive bough firmly, while Catherine, holding + on to the steps behind her, mimicked the clumsy manner in which she turned + her huge person about with the help of her sound leg. Even the priest + could not forbear to smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘There,’ said La Teuse, as she came down and stood beside him to get a + good view of her work, ‘there’s the top done. Now we will put some clumps + between the candlesticks, unless you would prefer a garland all along the + altar shelf.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest decided in favour of some big clumps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good; come on, then,’ continued the old servant, once more + clambering up the steps. ‘We can’t go to bed here. Just kiss the altar, + will you, Miette? Do you fancy you are in your stable? Monsieur le Curé, + do just see what they are up to over there! I can hear them laughing like + lunatics.’ + </p> + <p> + On raising one of the two lamps the dark end of the church was lit up and + three of the girls were discovered romping about under the gallery; one of + them had stumbled and pitched head foremost into the holy water stoup, + which mishap had so tickled the others that they were rolling on the + ground to laugh at their ease. They all came back, however, looking at the + priest sheepishly, with lowered eyelids, but with their hands swinging + against their hips as if a scolding rather pleased them than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + However, the measure of La Teuse’s wrath was filled when she suddenly + perceived Rosalie coming up to the altar like the others with a bundle of + boughs in her arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get down, will you?’ she cried to her. ‘You are a cool one, and no + mistake, my lass!—Hurry up, off you go with your bundle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What for, I’d like to know?’ said Rosalie boldly. ‘You can’t say I have + stolen it.’ + </p> + <p> + The other girls drew closer, feigning innocence and exchanging sparkling + glances. + </p> + <p> + ‘Clear out,’ repeated La Teuse, ‘you have no business here, do you hear?’ + </p> + <p> + Then, quite losing her scanty patience, she gave vent to a very coarse + epithet, which provoked a titter of delight among the peasant girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what next?’ said Rosalie. ‘Mind your own business. Is it any + concern of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + Then she burst into a fit of sobbing and threw down her boughs, but let + the Abbé lead her aside and give her a severe lecture. He had already + tried to silence La Teuse; for he was beginning to feel uneasy amidst the + big shameless hussies who filled the church with their armfuls of foliage. + They were pushing right up to the altar step, enclosing him with a belt of + woodland, wafting in his face a rank perfume of aromatic shoots. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us make haste, be quick!’ he exclaimed, clapping his hands lightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodness knows I would rather be in my bed,’ grumbled La Teuse. ‘It’s not + so easy as you think to fasten all these bits of stuff.’ + </p> + <p> + Finally, however, she succeeded in setting some lofty plumes of foliage + between the candlesticks. Next she folded the steps, which were laid + behind the high altar by Catherine. And then she only had to arrange two + clumps of greenery at the sides of the altar table. The last boughs + sufficed for this, and indeed there were some left which the girls strewed + over the sanctuary floor up to the wooden rails. The Lady altar now looked + like a grove, a shrubbery with a verdant lawn before it. + </p> + <p> + At present La Teuse was willing to make way for Abbé Mouret, who ascended + the altar steps, and, again lightly clapping his hands, exclaimed: ‘Young + ladies, to-morrow we will continue the devotions of the month of Mary. + Those who may be unable to come ought at least to say their Rosary at + home.’ + </p> + <p> + He knelt, and the peasant girls, with a mighty rustle of skirts, sank down + and settled themselves on their heels. They followed his prayer with a + confused muttering, through which burst here and there a giggle. One of + them, on being pinched from behind, burst into a scream, which she + attempted to stifle with a sudden fit of coughing; and this so diverted + the others that for a moment after the Amen they remained writhing with + merriment, their noses close to the stone flags. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse dismissed them; while the priest, after crossing himself, + remained absorbed before the altar, no longer hearing what went on behind + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, clear out,’ muttered the old woman. ‘You’re a pack of + good-for-nothings, who can’t even respect God. It’s shameful, it’s unheard + of, for girls to roll about on the floor in church like beasts in a meadow—— + What are you doing there, La Rousse? If I see you pinching any one, you’ll + have to deal with me! Oh, yes, you may put out your tongue at me; I’ll + tell his reverence about it. Out you get; out you get, you minxes!’ + </p> + <p> + She drove them slowly towards the door, while running and bobbling round + them frantically. And she had succeeded, as she thought, in getting every + one of them outside, when she caught sight of Catherine and Vincent calmly + installed in the confessional, where they were eating something with an + air of great enjoyment. She drove them away; and as she popped her head + outside the church, before closing the door, she espied Rosalie throwing + her arm over the shoulder of Fortune, who had been waiting for her. The + pair of them vanished in the darkness amid a faint sound of kisses. + </p> + <p> + ‘To think that such creatures dare to come to our Lady’s altar!’ La Teuse + stuttered as she shot the bolts. ‘The others are no better, I am sure. If + they came to-night with their boughs, it was only for a bit of fun and to + get kissed by the lads on going off! Not one of them will put herself out + of the way to-morrow; his reverence will have to say his <i>Aves</i> by + himself—— We shall only see the jades who have got + assignations.’ + </p> + <p> + Thus soliloquising, she thrust the chairs back into their places, and + looked round to see if anything suspicious was lying about before going + off to bed. In the confessional she picked up a handful of apple-parings, + which she threw behind the high altar. And she also found a bit of ribbon + torn from some cap, and a lock of black hair, which she made up into a + small parcel, with the view of opening an inquiry into the matter. With + these exceptions the church seemed to her tidy. There was oil enough for + the night in the bracket-lamp of the sanctuary, and as to the flags of the + choir, they could do without washing till Saturday. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock, Monsieur le Curé,’ she said, drawing near the + priest, who was still on his knees. ‘You might as well come up now.’ + </p> + <p> + He made no answer, but only bowed his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, I know what that means,’ continued La Teuse. ‘In another hour + he will still be on the stones there, giving himself a stomach-ache. I’m + off, as I shall only bore him. All the same, I can’t see much sense in it, + eating one’s lunch when others are at dinner, and going to bed when the + fowls get up!—— I worry you, don’t I, your reverence? + Good-night. You’re not at all reasonable!’ + </p> + <p> + She made ready to go, but suddenly came back to put out one of the two + lamps, muttering the while that such late prayers spelt ruination in oil. + Then, at last, she did go off, after passing her sleeve brushwise over the + cloth of the high altar, which seemed to her grey with dust. Abbé Mouret, + his eyes uplifted, his arms tightly clasped against his breast, then + remained alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + With only one lamp burning amid the verdure on the altar of the Virgin, + huge floating shadows filled the church at either end. From the pulpit a + sheet of gloom projected to the rafters of the ceiling. The confessional + looked quite black under the gallery, showing strange outlines suggestive + of a ruined sentry-box. All the light, softened and tinted as it were by + the green foliage, rested slumberingly upon the tall gilded Virgin, who + seemed to descend with queenly mien, borne upon the cloud round which + gambolled the winged cherubim. At sight of that round lamp gleaming amid + the boughs one might have thought the pallid moon was rising on the verge + of a wood, casting its light upon a regal apparition, a princess of + heaven, crowned and clothed with gold, who with her nude and Divine Infant + had come to stroll in the mysterious woodland avenues. Between the leaves, + along the lofty plumes of greenery, within the large ogival arbour, and + even along the branches strewing the flagstones, star-like beams glided + drowsily, like the milky rain of light that filters through the bushes on + moonlit nights. Vague sounds and creakings came from the dusky ends of the + church; the large clock on the left of the chancel throbbed slowly, with + the heavy breathing of a machine asleep. And the radiant vision, the + Mother with slender bands of chestnut hair, as if reassured by the + nocturnal quiet of the nave, came lower and lower, scarce bending the + blades of grass in the clearings beneath the gentle flight of her cloudy + chariot. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret gazed at her. This was the hour when he most loved the church. + He forgot the woeful figure on the cross, the Victim bedaubed with carmine + and ochre, who gasped out His life behind him, in the chapel of the Dead. + His thoughts were no longer distracted by the garish light from the + windows, by the gayness of morning coming in with the sun, by the + irruption of outdoor life—the sparrows and the boughs invading the + nave through the shattered panes. At that hour of night Nature was dead; + shadows hung the whitewashed walls with crape; a chill fell upon his + shoulders like a salutary penance-shirt. He could now wholly surrender + himself to the supremest love, without fear of any flickering ray of + light, any caressing breeze or scent, any buzzing of an insect’s wing + disturbing him amidst the delight of loving. Never had his morning mass + afforded him the superhuman joys of his nightly prayers. + </p> + <p> + With quivering lips Abbé Mouret now gazed at the tall Virgin. He could see + her coming towards him from the depths of her green bower in + ever-increasing splendour. No longer did a flood of moonlight seem to + float across the tree-tops. She seemed to him clothed with the sun; she + advanced majestically, glorious, colossal, and so all-powerful that he was + tempted at times to cast himself face downwards to shun the flaming + splendour of that gate opening into heaven. Then, amidst the adoration of + his whole being, which stayed his words upon his lips, he remembered + Brother Archangias’s final rebuke, as he might have remembered words of + blasphemy. The Brother often reproved him for his devotion to the Virgin, + which he declared was veritable robbery of devotion due to God. In the + Brother’s opinion it enervated the soul, put religion into petticoats, + created and fostered a state of sentimentalism quite unworthy of the + strong. He bore the Virgin a grudge for her womanhood, her beauty, her + maternity; he was ever on his guard against her, possessed by a covert + fear of feeling tempted by her gracious mien, of succumbing to her + seductive sweetness. ‘She will lead you far!’ he had cried one day to the + young priest, for in her he saw the commencement of human passion. From + contemplating her one might glide to delight in lovely chestnut hair, in + large bright eyes, and the mystery of garments falling from neck to toes. + His was the blunt rebellion of a saint who roughly parted the Mother from + the Son, asking as He did: ‘Woman, what have we in common, thou and I?’ + </p> + <p> + But Abbé Mouret thrust away such thoughts, prostrated himself, endeavoured + to forget the Brother’s harsh attacks. His rapture in the immaculate + purity of Mary alone raised him from the depths of lowliness in which he + sought to bury himself. Whenever, alone before the tall golden Virgin, he + so deceived himself as to imagine that he could see her bending down for + him to kiss her braided locks, he once more became very young, very good, + very strong, very just, full of tenderness. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret’s devotion to the Virgin dated from his early youth. Already + when he was quite a child, somewhat shy and fond of shrinking into + corners, he took pleasure in the thought that a lovely lady was watching + over him: that two blue eyes, so sweet, ever followed him with their + smile. When he felt at night a breath of air glide across his hair, he + would often say that the Virgin had come to kiss him. He had grown up + beneath this womanly caress, in an atmosphere full of the rustle of divine + robes. From the age of seven he had satisfied the cravings of his + affection by expending all the pence he received as pocket money in the + purchase of pious picture-cards, which he jealously concealed that he + alone might feast on them. But never was he tempted by the pictures of + Jesus and the Lamb, of Christ on the Cross, of God the Father, with a + mighty beard, stooping over a bank of clouds; his preference was always + for the winning portraits of Mary, with her tiny smiling mouth and + delicate outstretched hands. By degrees he had made quite a collection of + them all—of Mary between a lily and a distaff, Mary carrying her + child as if she were his elder sister, Mary crowned with roses, and Mary + crowned with stars. For him they formed a family of lovely young maidens, + alike in their attractiveness, in the grace, kindliness, and sweetness of + their countenances, so youthful beneath their veils, that although they + bore the name of ‘Mother of God,’ he had felt no awe of them as he had + often felt for grown-up persons. + </p> + <p> + They seemed to him of his own age, little girls such as he wished to meet + with, little girls of heaven such as the little boys who die when seven + years old have for eternal playmates in some nook of Paradise. But even at + this early age he was self-contained; and full of the exquisite + bashfulness of adolescence he grew up without betraying the secret of his + religious love. Mary grew up with him, being invariably a year or two + older than himself, as should always be the case with one’s chiefest + friend. When he was eighteen, she was twenty; she no longer kissed his + forehead at night time, but stood a little further from him with folded + arms, chastely smiling, ravishingly sweet. And he—he only named her + now in a whisper, feeling as if he would faint each time the well-loved + name passed his lips in prayer. No more did he dream of childish games + within the garden of heaven, but of continual contemplation before that + white figure, whose perfect purity he feared to sully with his breath. + Even from his own mother did he conceal the fervour of his love for Mary. + </p> + <p> + Then, a few years later, at the seminary, his beautiful affection for her, + seemingly so just, so natural, was disturbed by inward qualms. Was the + cult of Mary necessary for salvation? Was he not robbing God by giving + Mary a part, the greater part, of his love, his thoughts, his heart, his + entire being? Perplexing questions were these, provoking an inward + struggle which increased his passion, riveted his bonds. For he dived into + all the subtleties of his affection, found unknown joys in discussing the + lawfulness of his feelings. The books treating of devotion to the Virgin + brought him excuses, joyful raptures, a wealth of arguments which he + repeated with prayerful fervour. From them he learned how, in Mary, to be + the slave of Jesus. He went to Jesus through Mary. He cited all kinds of + proofs, he discriminated, he drew inferences. Mary, whom Jesus had obeyed + on earth, should be obeyed by all mankind; Mary still retained her + maternal power in heaven, where she was the great dispenser of God’s + treasures, the only one who could beseech Him, the only one who allotted + the heavenly thrones; and thus Mary, a mere creature before God, but + raised up to Him, became the human link between heaven and earth, the + intermediary of every grace, of every mercy; and his conclusion always was + that she should be loved above all else in God himself. Another time he + was attracted by more complicated theological curiosities: the marriage of + the celestial spouse, the Holy Ghost sealing the Vase of Election, making + of the Virgin Mary an everlasting miracle, offering her inviolable purity + to the devotion of mankind. She was the Virgin overcoming all heresies, + the irreconcilable foe of Satan, the new Eve of whom it had been foretold + that she should crush the Serpent’s head, the august Gate of Grace, by + which the Saviour had already entered once and through which He would come + again at the Last Day—a vague prophecy, allotting a yet larger + future role to Mary, which threw Serge into a dreamy imagining of some + immense expansion of divine love. + </p> + <p> + This entry of woman into the jealous, cruel heaven depicted by the Old + Testament, this figure of whiteness set at the feet of the awesome + Trinity, appeared to him the very grace itself of religion, the one + consolation for all the dread inspired by things of faith, the one refuge + when he found himself lost amidst the mysteries of dogma. And when he had + thus proved to himself, point by point, that she was the way to Jesus—easy, + short, perfect, and certain—he surrendered himself anew to her, + wholly and without remorse: he strove to be her true devotee, dead to self + and steeped in submission. + </p> + <p> + It was an hour of divine voluptuousness! The books treating of devotion to + the Virgin burned his hands. They spoke to him in a language of love, + warm, fragrant as incense. Mary no longer seemed a young maiden veiled in + white, standing with crossed arms, a foot or two away from his pillow. She + came surrounded by splendour, even as John saw her, clothed with the sun, + crowned with twelve stars, and having the moon beneath her feet. She + perfumed him with her fragrance, inflamed him with longing for heaven, + ravished him even with the ardent glow of the planets flaming on her brow. + He threw himself before her and called himself her slave. No word could + have been sweeter than that word of slave, which he repeated, which he + relished yet more and more as it trembled on his stammering tongue, whilst + casting himself at her feet—to become her thing, her mite, the dust + lightly scattered by the waving of her azure robe. With David he + exclaimed: ‘Mary is made for me,’ and with the Evangelist he added: ‘I + have taken her for my all.’ He called her his ‘beloved mistress,’ for + words failed him, and he fell into the prattle of child or lover, his + breath breaking with intensity of passion. She was the Blessed among + women, the Queen of Heaven glorified by the nine Choirs of Angels, the + Mother of Predilection, the Treasure of the Lord. All the vivid imagery of + her cult unrolled itself before him comparing to her an earthly paradise + of virgin soil, with beds of flowering virtues, green meadows of hope, + impregnable towers of strength, and smiling dwellings of confidence. Again + she was a fountain sealed by the Holy Ghost, a shrine and dwelling-place + of the Holy Trinity, the Throne of God, the City of God, the Altar of God, + the Temple of God, and the World of God. And he walked in that garden, in + its shade, its sunlight, beneath its enchanting greenery; he sighed after + the water of that Fountain; he dwelt within Mary’s beauteous precincts—resting, + hiding, heedlessly straying there, drinking in the milk of infinite love + that fell drop by drop from her virginal bosom. + </p> + <p> + Every morning, on rising at the seminary, he greeted Mary with a hundred + bows, his face turned towards the strip of sky visible from his window. + And at night in like fashion he bade her farewell with his eyes fixed upon + the stars. Often, when he thus gazed out on fine bright nights, when Venus + gleamed golden and dreamy through the warm atmosphere, he forgot himself, + and then, like a soft song, would fall from his lips the <i>Ave maris + Stella</i>, that tender hymn which set before his eyes a distant azure + land, and a tranquil sea, scarce wrinkled by a caressing quiver, and + illuminated by a smiling star, a very sun in size. He recited, too, the <i>Salve + Regina</i>, the <i>Regina Coeli</i>, the <i>O gloriosa Domina</i>, all the + prayers and all the canticles. He would read the Office of the Virgin, the + holy books written in her honour, the little Psalter of St. Bonaventura, + with such devout tenderness, that he could not turn the leaves for tears. + He fasted and mortified himself, that he might offer up to her his bruised + and wounded flesh. Ever since the age of ten he had worn her livery—the + holy scapular, the twofold image of Mary sewn on squares of cloth, whose + warmth upon his chest and back thrilled him with delight. Later on, he + also took to wearing the little chain in token of his loving slavery. But + his greatest act of love was ever the Angelic Salutation, the <i>Ave Maria</i>, + his heart’s perfect prayer. ‘Hail, Mary——’ and he saw her + advancing towards him, full of grace, blessed amongst women; and he cast + his heart at her feet for her to tread on it in sweetness. He multiplied + and repeated that salutation in a hundred different ways, ever seeking + some more efficacious one. He would say twelve <i>Aves</i> to commemorate + the crown of twelve stars that encircled Mary’s brow; he would say + fourteen in remembrance of her fourteen joys; at another time he would + recite seven decades of them in honour of the years she lived on earth. + For hours the beads of his Rosary would glide between his fingers. Then, + again, on certain days of mystical assignation he would launch into the + endless muttering of the Rosary. + </p> + <p> + When, alone in his cell, with time to give to his love, he knelt upon the + floor, the whole of Mary’s garden with its lofty flowers of chastity + blossomed around him. Between his fingers glided the Rosary’s wreath of <i>Aves</i>, + intersected by <i>Paters</i>, like a garland of white roses mingled with + the lilies of the Annunciation, the blood-hued flowers of Calvary, and the + stars of the Coronation. He would slowly tread those fragrant paths, + pausing at each of the fifteen dizains of <i>Aves</i>, and dwelling on its + corresponding mystery; he was beside himself with joy, or grief, or + triumph, according as the mystery belonged to one or other of the three + series—the joyful, the sorrowful, or the glorious. What an + incomparable legend it was, the history of Mary, a complete human life, + with all its smiles and tears and triumph, which he lived over again from + end to end in a single moment! And first he entered into joy with the five + glad Mysteries, steeped in the serene calm of dawn. First the Archangel’s + salutation, the fertilising ray gliding down from heaven, fraught with the + spotless union’s adorable ecstasy; then the visit to Elizabeth on a bright + hope-laden morn, when the fruit of Mary’s womb for the first time stirred + and thrilled her with the shock at which mothers blench; then the birth in + a stable at Bethlehem, and the long string of shepherds coming to pay + homage to her Divine Maternity; then the new-born babe carried into the + Temple on the arms of his mother who smiled, still weary, but already + happy at offering her child to God’s justice, to Simeon’s embrace, to the + desires of the world; and lastly, Jesus at a later age revealing Himself + before the doctors, in whose midst He is found by His anxious mother, now + proud and comforted. + </p> + <p> + But, after that tender radiant dawn, it seemed to Serge as if the sky were + suddenly overcast. His feet now trod on brambles, the beads of the Rosary + pricked his fingers; he cowered beneath the horror of the five Sorrowful + Mysteries: Mary, agonising in her Son in the garden of Olives, suffering + with Him from the scourging, feeling on her own brow the wounds made by + the crown of thorns, bearing the fearful weight of His Cross, and dying at + his feet on Calvary. Those inevitable sufferings, that harrowing martyrdom + of the queen he worshipped, and for whom he would have shed his blood like + Jesus, roused in him a feeling of shuddering repulsion which ten years’ + practice of the same prayers and the same devotions had failed to weaken. + But as the beads flowed on, light suddenly burst upon the darkness of the + Crucifixion, and the resplendent glory of the five last Mysteries shone + forth in all the brightness of a cloudless sun. Mary was transfigured, and + sang the hallelujah of the Resurrection, the victory over Death and the + eternity of life. With outstretched hands, and dazed with admiration, she + beheld the triumph of her Son ascending into heaven on golden clouds, + fringed with purple. She gathered the Apostles round her, and, as on the + day of her conception, participated in the glow of the Spirit of Love, + descending now in tongues of fire. She, too, was carried up to heaven by a + flight of angels, borne aloft on their white wings like a spotless ark, + and tenderly set down amid the splendour of the heavenly thrones; and + there, in her supreme glory, amidst a splendour so dazzling that the light + of the sun was quenched, God crowned her with the stars of the firmament. + Impassioned love has but one word. In reciting a hundred and fifty <i>Aves</i> + Serge had not once repeated himself. The monotonous murmur, the ever + recurring words, akin to the ‘I love you’ of lovers, assumed each time a + deeper and deeper meaning; and he lingered over it all, expressed + everything with the aid of the one solitary Latin sentence, and learned to + know Mary through and through, until, as the last bead of his Rosary + slipped from his hand, his heart grew faint with the thought of parting + from her. + </p> + <p> + Many a night had the young man spent in this way. Daybreak had found him + still murmuring his prayers. It was the moon, he would say to cheat + himself, that was making the stars wane. His superiors had to reprove him + for those vigils, which left him languid and pale as if he had been losing + blood. On the wall of his cell had long hung a coloured engraving of the + Sacred Heart of Mary, an engraving which showed the Virgin smiling + placidly, throwing open her bodice, and revealing a crimson fissure, + wherein glowed her heart, pierced with a sword, and crowned with white + roses. That sword tormented him beyond measure, brought him an intolerable + horror of suffering in woman, the very thought of which scattered his + pious submissiveness to the winds. He erased the weapon, and left only the + crowned and flaming heart which seemed to be half torn from that exquisite + flesh, as if tendered as an offering to himself. And it was then he felt + beloved: Mary was giving him her heart, her living heart, even as it + throbbed in her bosom, dripping with her rosy blood. + </p> + <p> + In all this there was no longer the imagery of devout passion, but a + material entity, a prodigy of affection which impelled him, when he was + praying before the engraving, to open out his hands in order that he might + reverently receive the heart that leaped from that immaculate bosom. He + could see it, hear it beat; he was loved, that heart was beating for + himself! His whole being quickened with rapture; he would fain have kissed + that heart, have melted in it, have lain beside it within the depths of + that open breast. Mary’s love for him was an active one; she desired him + to be near her, to be wholly hers in the eternity to come; her love was + efficacious, too, she was ever solicitous for him, watching over him + everywhere, guarding him from the slightest breach of his fidelity. She + loved him tenderly, more than the whole of womankind together, with a love + as azure, as deep, as boundless as the sky itself. Where could he ever + find so delightful a mistress? What earthly caress could be compared to + the air in which he moved, the breath of Mary? What mundane union or + enjoyment could be weighed against that everlasting flower of desire which + grew unceasingly, and yet was never over-blown? At this thought the <i>Magnificat</i> + would exhale from his mouth, like a cloud of incense. He sang the joyful + song of Mary, her thrill of joy at the approach of her Divine Spouse. He + glorified the Lord who overthrew the mighty from their thrones, and who + sent Mary to him, poor destitute child that he was, dying of love on the + cold tiled floor of his cell. + </p> + <p> + And when he had given all up to Mary—his body, his soul, his earthly + goods, and spiritual chattels—when he stood before her stripped, + bare, with all his prayers exhausted, there welled from his burning lips + the Virgin’s litanies, with their reiterated, persistent, impassioned + appeals for heavenly succour. He fancied himself climbing a flight of + pious yearnings, which he ascended step by step at each bound of his + heart. First he called her ‘Holy.’ Next he called her ‘Mother,’ most pure, + most chaste, amiable, and admirable. And with fresh ardour he six times + proclaimed her maidenhood; his lips cooled and freshened each time that he + pronounced that name of ‘Virgin,’ which he coupled with power, goodness, + and fidelity. And as his heart drew him higher up the ladder of light, a + strange voice from his veins spoke within him, bursting into dazzling + flowers of speech. He yearned to melt away in fragrance, to be spread + around in light, to expire in a sigh of music. As he named her ‘Mirror of + Justice,’ ‘Seat of Wisdom,’ and ‘Source of Joy,’ he could behold himself + pale with ecstasy in that mirror, kneeling on the warmth of the divine + seat, quaffing intoxication in mighty draughts from the holy Source. + </p> + <p> + Again he would transform her, throwing off all restraint in his frantic + love, so as to attain to a yet closer union with her. She became a ‘Vessel + of Honour,’ chosen of God, a ‘Bosom of Election,’ wherein he desired to + pour his being, and slumber for ever.* She was the ‘Mystical Rose’—a + great flower which bloomed in Paradise, with petals formed of the angels + clustering round their queen, a flower so fresh, so fragrant, that he + could inhale its perfume from the depths of his unworthiness with a joyful + dilation of his sides which stretched them to bursting. She became changed + into a ‘House of Gold,’ a ‘Tower of David,’ and a ‘Tower of Ivory,’ of + inestimable richness, of a whiteness that swans might envy, and of lofty, + massive, rounded form, which he would fain have encircled with his + outstretched arms as with a girdle of submissiveness. She stood on the + distant skyline as the ‘Gate of Heaven,’ a glimpse of which he caught + behind her shoulders when a puff of wind threw back the folds of her veil. + She rose in splendour from behind the mountain in the waning hour of + night, like the ‘Morning Star’ to help all travellers astray, like the + very dawn of Love. And when he had ascended to this height—scant of + breath, yet still unsatiated—he could only further glorify her with + the title of ‘Queen,’ with which he nine times hailed her, as with nine + parting salutations from the censer of his soul. His canticle died + joyfully away in those last ejaculations of triumph: ‘Queen of virgins, + Queen of all saints. Queen conceived without sin!’ She, ever before him, + shone in splendour; and he, on the topmost step, only reached by Mary’s + intimates, remained there yet another moment, swooning amidst the subtle + atmosphere around him; still too far away to kiss the edge of her azure + robe, already feeling that he was about to fall, but ever possessed by a + desire to ascend again and again, and seek that superhuman felicity. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Curiously enough I find no trace of ‘Bosom of Election’ in the + Litany of the Blessed Virgin as printed in English Catholic + works.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + How many times had not the Litany of the Virgin, recited in common in the + seminary chapel, left the young man with broken limbs and void head, as if + from some great fall! And since his departure from the seminary, Abbé + Mouret had grown to love the Virgin still more. He gave to her that + impassioned cult which to Brother Archangias savoured of heresy. In his + opinion it was she who would save the Church by some matchless prodigy + whose near appearance would entrance the world. She was the only miracle + of our impious age—the blue-robed lady that showed herself to little + shepherdesses, the whiteness that gleamed at night between two clouds, her + veil trailing over the low thatched roofs of peasant homes. When Brother + Archangias coarsely asked him if he had ever espied her, he simply smiled + and tightened his lips as if to keep his secret. Truth to say, he saw her + every night. She no longer seemed a playful sister or a lovely pious + maiden; she wore a bridal robe, with white flowers in her hair; and from + beneath her drooping eyelids fell moist glances of hopeful promise that + set his cheeks aglow. He could feel that she was coming, that she was + promising to delay no longer; that she said to him, ‘Here I am, receive + me!’ Thrice a day when the <i>Angelus</i> rang out—at break of dawn, + in the fulness of midday, and at the gentle fall of twilight—he + bared his head and said an <i>Ave</i> with a glance around him as if to + ascertain whether the bell were not at last announcing Mary’s coming. He + was five-and-twenty. He awaited her. + </p> + <p> + During the month of May the young priest’s expectation was fraught with + joyful hope. To La Teuse’s grumblings he no longer paid the slightest + attention. If he remained so late praying in the church, it was because he + entertained the mad idea that the great golden Virgin would at last come + down from her pedestal. And yet he stood in awe of that Virgin, so like a + princess in her mien. He did not love all the Virgins alike, and this one + inspired him with supreme respect. She was, indeed, the Mother of God, she + showed the fertile development of form, the majestic countenance, the + strong arms of the Divine Spouse bearing Jesus. He pictured her thus, + standing in the midst of the heavenly court, the train of her royal mantle + trailing among the stars; so far above him, and of such exceeding might, + that he would be shattered into dust should she deign to cast her eyes + upon him. She was the Virgin of his days of weakness, the austere Virgin + who restored his inward peace by an awesome glimpse of Paradise. + </p> + <p> + That night Abbé Mouret remained for over an hour on his knees in the empty + church. With folded hands and eyes fixed on the golden Virgin rising + planet-like amid the verdure, he sought the drowsiness of ecstasy, the + appeasement of the strange discomfort he had felt that day. But he failed + to find the semi-somnolence of prayer with the delightful ease he knew so + well. However glorious and pure Mary might reveal herself, her motherhood, + the maturity of her charms, and the bare infant she bore upon her arm, + disquieted him. It seemed as if in heaven itself there were a repetition + of the exuberant life, through which he had been moving since the morning. + Like the vines of the stony slopes, like the trees of the Paradou, like + the human troop of Artauds, Mary suggested the blossoming, the begetting + of life. Prayer came but slowly to his lips; fancies made his mind wander. + He perceived things he had never seen before—the gentle wave of her + chestnut hair, the rounded swell of her rosy throat. She had to assume a + sterner air and overwhelm him with the splendour of her sovereign power to + bring him back to the unfinished sentences of his broken prayer. At last + the sight of her golden crown, her golden mantle, all the golden sheen + which made of her a mighty princess, reduced him once more to slavish + submission, and his prayer again flowed evenly, and his mind became + wrapped in worship. + </p> + <p> + In this ecstatic trance, half asleep, half awake, he remained till eleven + o’clock, heedless of his aching knees, fancying himself suspended in mid + air, rocked to and fro like a child, and yielding to restful slumber, + though conscious of some unknown weight that oppressed his heart. + Meanwhile the church around him filled with shadows, the lamp grew dim, + and the lofty sprays of leafage darkened the tall Virgin’s varnished face. + </p> + <p> + When the clock, about to strike, gave out a rending whine, a shudder + passed through Abbé Mouret. He had not hitherto felt the chill of the + church upon his shoulders, but now he was shivering from head to foot. As + he crossed himself a memory swiftly flashed through the stupor of his + wakening—the chattering of his teeth recalled to him the nights he + had spent on the floor of his cell before the Sacred Heart of Mary, when + his whole frame would quiver with fever. He rose up painfully, displeased + with himself. As a rule, he would leave the altar untroubled in his flesh + and with Mary’s sweet breath still fresh upon his brow. That night, + however, as he took the lamp to go up to his room he felt as if his + throbbing temples were bursting. His prayer had not profited him; after a + transient alleviation he still experienced the burning glow which had been + rising in his heart and brain since morning. When he reached the sacristy + door, he turned and mechanically raised the lamp to take a last look at + the tall Virgin. But she was now shrouded in the deep shadows falling from + the rafters, buried in the foliage around her whence only the golden cross + upon her crown emerged. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + Abbé Mouret’s bedroom, which occupied a corner of the vicarage, was a + spacious one, having two large square windows; one of which opened above + Desirée’s farmyard, whilst the other overlooked the village, the valley + beyond, the belt of hills, the whole landscape. The yellow-curtained bed, + the walnut chest of drawers, and the three straw-bottomed chairs seemed + lost below that lofty ceiling with whitewashed joists. A faint tartness, + the somewhat musty odour of old country houses, ascended from the tiled + and ruddled floor that glistened like a mirror. On the chest of drawers a + tall statuette of the Immaculate Conception rose greyly between some + porcelain vases which La Teuse had filled with white lilac. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret set his lamp on the edge of the chest of drawers before the + Virgin. He felt so unwell that he determined to light the vine-stem fire + which was laid in readiness. He stood there, tongs in hand, watching the + kindling wood, his face illuminated by the flame. The house beneath + slumbered in unbroken stillness. The silence filled his ears with a hum, + which grew into a sound of whispering voices. Slowly and irresistibly + these voices mastered him and increased the feeling of anxiety which had + almost choked him several times that day. What could be the cause of such + mental anguish? What could be the strange trouble which had slowly grown + within him and had now become so unbearable? He had not fallen into sin. + It seemed as if but yesterday he had left the seminary with all his ardent + faith, and so fortified against the world that he moved among men + beholding God alone. And, suddenly, he fancied himself in his cell at five + o’clock in the morning, the hour for rising. The deacon on duty passed his + door, striking it with his stick, and repeating the regulation summons— + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Benedicamus Domino</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Deo gratias</i>!’ he answered half asleep, with his eyes still swollen + with slumber. + </p> + <p> + And he jumped out upon his strip of carpet, washed himself, made his bed, + swept his room, and refilled his little pitcher. He enjoyed this petty + domestic work while the morning air sent a thrilling shiver throughout his + frame. He could hear the sparrows in the plane-trees of the court-yard, + rising at the same time as himself with a deafening noise of wings and + notes—their way of saying their prayers, thought he. Then he went + down to the meditation room, and stayed there on his knees for half an + hour after prayers, to con that reflection of St. Ignatius: ‘What profit + be it to a man to gain the whole world if he lose his soul?’ A subject, + this, fertile in good resolutions, which impelled him to renounce all + earthly goods, and dwell on that fond dream of a desert life, beneath the + solitary wealth and luxury of a vast blue sky. When ten minutes had + passed, his bruised knees became so painful that his whole being slowly + swooned into ecstasy, in which he pictured himself as a mighty conqueror, + the master of an immense empire, flinging down his crown, breaking his + sceptre, trampling under foot unheard-of wealth, chests of gold, floods of + jewels, and rich stuffs embroidered with precious stones, before going to + bury himself in some Thebais, clothed in rough drugget that rasped his + back. Mass, however, snatched him from these heated fancies, upon which he + looked back as upon some beautiful reality which might have been his lot + in ancient times; and then, his communion made, he chanted the psalm for + the day unconscious of any other voice than his own, which rang out with + crystal purity, flying upward till it reached the very ear of the Lord. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to his room he ascended the stairs step by step, as + advised by St. Bonaventura and St. Thomas Aquinas. His gait was slow, his + mien grave; he kept his head bowed as he walked along, finding ineffable + delight in complying with the most trifling regulations. Next came + breakfast. It was pleasant in the refectory to see the hunks of bread and + the glasses of white wine, set out in rows. He had a good appetite, and + was of a joyous mood. He would say, for instance, that the wine was truly + Christian—a daring allusion to the water which the bursar was taxed + with putting in the bottles. Still his gravity at once returned to him on + going in to lectures. He took notes on his knees, while the professor, + resting his hands on the edge of his desk, talked away in familiar Latin, + interspersed with an occasional word in French, when he was at fault for a + better. A discussion would then follow in which the students argued in a + strange jargon, with never a smile upon their faces. Then, at ten o’clock, + there came twenty minutes’ reading of Holy Writ. He fetched the Sacred + Book, a volume richly bound and gilt-edged. Having kissed it with especial + reverence, he read it out bare-headed, bowing every time he came upon the + name of Jesus, Mary, or Joseph. And with the arrival of the second + meditation he was ready to endure for love of God another and even longer + spell of kneeling than the first. He avoided resting on his heels for a + second even. He delighted in that examination of conscience which lasted + for three-quarters of an hour. He racked his memory for sins, and at times + even fancied himself damned for forgetting to kiss the pictures on his + scapular the night before, or for having gone to sleep upon his left side—abominable + faults which he would have willingly redeemed by wearing out his knees + till night; and yet happy faults, in that they kept him busy, for without + them he would have no occupation for his unspotted heart, steeped in a + life of purity. + </p> + <p> + He would return to the refectory, as if relieved of some great crime. The + seminarists on duty, wearing blue linen aprons, and having their cassock + sleeves tucked up, brought in the vermicelli soup, the boiled beef cut + into little squares, and the helps of roast mutton and French beans. Then + followed a terrific rattling of jaws, a gluttonous silence, a desperate + plying of forks, only broken by envious greedy glances at the horseshoe + table, where the heads of the seminary ate more delicate meats and drank + ruddier wines. And all the while above the hubbub some strong-lunged + peasant’s son, with a thick voice and utter disregard for punctuation, + would hem and haw over the perusal of some letters from missionaries, some + episcopal pastoral, or some article from a religious paper. To this he + listened as he ate. Those polemical fragments, those narratives of distant + travels, surprised, nay, even frightened him, with their revelations of + bustling, boundless fields of action, of which he had never dreamt, beyond + the seminary walls. Eating was still in progress when the wooden clapper + announced the recreation hour. The recreation-ground was a sandy yard, in + which stood eight plane-trees, which in summer cast cool shadows around. + On the south side rose a wall, seventeen feet high, and bristling with + broken glass, above which all that one saw of Plassans was the steeple of + St. Mark, rising like a stony needle against the blue sky. To and fro he + slowly paced the court with a row of fellow-students; and each time he + faced the wall he eyed that spire which to him represented the whole town, + the whole earth spread beneath the scudding clouds. Noisy groups waxed hot + in disputation round the plane-trees; friends would pair off in the + corners under the spying glance of some director concealed behind his + window-blind. Tennis and skittle matches would be quickly organised to the + great discomfort of quiet loto players who lounged on the ground before + their cardboard squares, which some bowl or ball would suddenly smother + with sand. But when the bell sounded the noise ceased, a flight of + sparrows rose from the plane-trees, and the breathless students betook + themselves to their lesson in plain-chant with folded arms and hanging + heads. And thus Serge’s day closed in peacefulness; he returned to his + work; then, at four o’clock, he partook of his afternoon snack, and + renewed his everlasting walk in sight of St. Mark’s spire. Supper was + marked by the same rattling of jaws and the same droning perusal as the + midday meal. And when it was over Serge repaired to the chapel to attend + prayers, and finally betook himself to bed at a quarter past eight, after + first sprinkling his pallet with holy water to ward off all evil dreams. + </p> + <p> + How many delightful days like these had he not spent in that ancient + convent of old Plassans, where abode the aroma of centuries of piety! For + five years had the days followed one another, flowing on with the + unvarying murmur of limpid water. In this present hour he recalled a + thousand little incidents which moved him. He remembered going with his + mother to purchase his first outfit, his two cassocks, his two waist + sashes, his half-dozen bands, his eight pairs of socks, his surplice, and + his three-cornered hat. And how his heart had beaten that mild October + evening when the seminary door had first closed behind him! He had gone + thither at twenty, after his school years, seized with a yearning to + believe and love. The very next day he had forgotten all, as if he had + fallen into a long sleep in that big silent house. He once more saw the + narrow cell in which he had lived through his two years as student of + philosophy—a little hutch with only a bed, a table, and a chair, + divided from the other cells by badly fitted partitions, in a vast hall + containing about fifty similar little dens. And he again saw the cell he + had dwelt in three years longer while in the theology class—a larger + one, with an armchair, a dressing-table, and a bookcase—a happy room + full of the dreams which his faith had evoked. Down those endless + passages, up those stairs of stone, in all sorts of nooks, sudden + inspirations, unexpected aid had come to him. From the lofty ceilings fell + the voices of guardian angels. There was not a flagstone in the halls, not + an ashlar of the walls, not a bough of the plane-trees, but it spoke to + him of the delights of his contemplative life, his lispings of tenderness, + his gradual initiation, the favours vouchsafed him in return for + self-bestowal, all that happiness of divine first love. + </p> + <p> + On such and such a day, on awaking, he had beheld a bright flood of light + which had steeped him in joy. On such and such an evening as he closed the + door of his cell he had felt warm hands clasping his neck so lovingly that + he had lost consciousness, and had afterwards found himself on the floor + weeping and choked by sobs. Again, at other times, especially in the + little archway leading to the chapel, he had surrendered himself to supple + arms which raised him from the ground. All heaven had then been concerned + in him, had moved round him, and imparted to his slightest actions a + peculiar sense, an astonishing perfume, which seemed to cling faintly to + his clothes, to his very skin. And again, he remembered the Thursday + walks. They started at two o’clock for some verdant nook about three miles + from Plassans. Often they sought a meadow on the banks of the Viorne, + where the gnarled willows steeped their leaves in the stream. But he saw + nothing—neither the big yellow flowers in the meadow, nor the + swallows sipping as they flew by, with wings lightly touching the surface + of the little river. Till six o’clock, seated in groups beneath the + willows, his comrades and himself recited the Office of the Virgin in + common, or read in pairs the ‘Little Hours,’ the book of prayers + recommended to young seminarists, but not enjoined on them. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret smiled as he stirred the burning embers of his vine-stock + fire. In all that past he only found great purity and perfect obedience. + He had been a lily whose sweet scent had charmed his masters. He could not + recall a single bad action. He had never taken advantage of the absolute + freedom of those walks, when the two prefects in charge would go off to + have a chat with a parish priest in the neighbourhood, or to have a smoke + behind a hedge, or to drink beer with a friend. Never had he hidden a + novel under his mattress, nor a bottle of <i>anisette</i> in a cupboard. + For a long time, even, he had had no suspicion of the sinfulness around + him—of the wings of chicken and the cakes smuggled into the seminary + in Lent, of the guilty letters brought in by servers, of the abominable + conversations carried on in whispers in certain corners of the courtyard. + He had wept hot tears when he first perceived that few among his fellows + loved God for His own sake. There were peasants’ sons there who had taken + orders simply through their terror of conscription, sluggards who dreamed + of a career of idleness, and ambitious youths already agitated by a vision + of the staff and the mitre. And when he found the world’s wickedness + reappearing at the altar’s very foot, he had withdrawn still further into + himself, giving himself still more to God, to console Him for being + forsaken. + </p> + <p> + He did recollect, however, that he had crossed his legs one day in class, + and that, when the professor reproved him for it, his face had become + fiery red, as if he had committed some abominable action. He was one of + the best students, never arguing, but learning his texts by heart. He + established the existence and eternity of God by proofs drawn from Holy + Writ, the opinions of the fathers of the Church, the universal consensus + of all mankind. This kind of reasoning filled him with an unshakeable + certainty. During his first year of philosophy, he had worked at his logic + so earnestly that his professor had checked him, remarking that the most + learned were not the holiest. In his second year, therefore, he had + carried out his study of metaphysics as a regulation task, constituting + but a small fraction of his daily duties. He felt a growing contempt for + science; he wished to remain ignorant, in order to preserve the humility + of his faith. Later on, he only followed the course of Rohrbacher’s + ‘Ecclesiastical History’ from submission; he ventured as far as Gousset’s + arguments, and Bouvier’s ‘Theological Course,’ without daring to take up + Bellarmin, Liguori, Suarez, or St. Thomas Aquinas. Holy Writ alone + impassioned him. Therein he found all desirable knowledge, a tale of + infinite love which should be sufficient instruction for all men of + good-will. He simply adopted the dicta of his teachers, casting on them + the care of inquiry, needing nought of such rubbish to know how to love, + and accusing books of stealing away the time which should be devoted to + prayer. He even succeeded in forgetting his years of college life. He no + longer knew anything, but was simplicity itself, a child brought back to + the lispings of his catechism. + </p> + <p> + Such was the manner in which he had ascended step by step to the + priesthood. And here his recollections thronged more quickly on him, + softer, still warm with heavenly joy. Each year he had drawn nearer to + God. His vacations had been spent in holy fashion at an uncle’s, in + confessions every day and communions twice a week. He would lay fasts upon + himself, hide rock-salt inside his trunk, and kneel on it with bared knees + for hours together. At recreation time he remained in chapel, or went up + to the room of one of the directors, who told him pious and extraordinary + stories. Then, as the fast of the Holy Trinity drew nigh, he was rewarded + beyond all measure, overwhelmed by the stirring emotion which pervades all + seminaries on the eve of ordinations. This was the great festival of all, + when the sky opened to allow the elect to rise another step nearer unto + God. For a fortnight in advance he imposed a bread and water diet on + himself. He closed his window blinds so that he might not see the daylight + at all, and he prostrated himself in the gloom to implore Jesus to accept + his sacrifice. During the last four days he suffered torturing pangs, + terrible scruples, which would force him from his bed in the middle of the + night to knock at the door of some strange priest giving the Retreat—some + barefooted Carmelite, or often a converted Protestant respecting whom some + wonderful story was current. To him he would make at great length a + general confession of his whole life in a voice choking with sobs. + Absolution alone quieted him, refreshed him, as if he had enjoyed a bath + of grace. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the great day he felt wholly white; and so vividly was + he conscious of his whiteness that he seemed to himself to shed light + around him. The seminary bell rang out in clear notes, while all the + scents of June—the perfume of blossoming stocks, of mignonette and + of heliotropes—came over the lofty courtyard wall. In the chapel + relatives were waiting in their best attire, so deeply moved that the + women sobbed behind their veils. Next came the procession—the + deacons about to receive their priesthood in golden chasubles, the + sub-deacons in dalmatics, those in minor orders and the tonsured with + their surplices floating on their shoulders and their black birettas in + their hands. The organ rolled diffusing the flutelike notes of a canticle + of joy. At the altar, the bishop officiated, staff in hand, assisted by + two canons. All the Chapter were there, the priests of all the parishes + thronged thick amid a dazzling wealth of apparel, a flaring of gold + beneath a broad ray of sunlight falling from a window in the nave. The + epistle over, the ordination began. + </p> + <p> + At this very hour Abbé Mouret could remember the chill of the scissors + when he was marked with the tonsure at the beginning of his first year of + theology. It had made him shudder slightly. But the tonsure had then been + very small, hardly larger than a penny. Later, with each fresh order + conferred on him, it had grown and grown until it crowned him with a white + spot as large as a big Host. The organ’s hum grew softer, and the censers + swung with a silvery tinkling of their slender chains, releasing a + cloudlet of white smoke, which unrolled in lacelike folds. He could see + himself, a tonsured youth in a surplice, led to the altar by the master of + ceremonies; there he knelt and bowed his head down low, while the bishop + with golden scissors snipped off three locks—one over his forehead, + and the other two near his ears. Yet another twelvemonth, and he could + again see himself in the chapel amid the incense, receiving the four minor + orders. Led by an archdeacon, he went to the main doorway, closed the door + with a bang, and opened it again, to show that to him was entrusted the + care of churches; next he rang a small bell with his right hand, in token + that it was his duty to call the faithful to the divine offices; then he + returned to the altar, where fresh privileges were conferred upon him by + the bishop—those of singing the lessons, of blessing the bread, of + catechising children, of exorcising evil spirits, of serving the deacons, + of lighting and extinguishing the candles of the altars. + </p> + <p> + Next came back the memory of the ensuing ordination, more solemn and more + dread, amid the same organ strains which sounded now like God’s own + thunder: this time he wore a sub-deacon’s dalmatic upon his shoulders, he + bound himself for ever by the vow of chastity, he trembled in every pore, + despite his faith, at the terrible <i>Accedite</i> from the bishop, which + put to flight two of his companions, blanching by his side. His new duties + were to serve the priest at the altar, to prepare the cruets, sing the + epistle, wipe the chalice, and carry the cross in processions. And, at + last, he passed once more, and for the last time, into the chapel, in the + radiance of a June sun: but this time he walked at the very head of the + procession, with alb girdled about his waist, with stole crossed over his + breast, and chasuble falling from his neck. All but fainting from emotion, + he could perceive the pallid face of the bishop giving him the priesthood, + the fulness of the ministry, by the threefold laying of his hands. And + after taking the oath of ecclesiastical obedience, he felt himself + uplifted from the stone flags, when the prelate in a full voice repeated + the Latin words: ‘<i>Accipe Spiritum Sanctum.... Quorum remiseris peccata, + remittuntur eis, et quorum retinueris, retenta sunt</i>.’—‘Receive + the Holy Ghost.... Whose sins thou dost forgive they are forgiven; and + whose sins thou dost retain, they are retained.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <p> + This evocation of the deep joys of his youth had given Abbé Mouret a touch + of feverishness. He no longer felt the cold. He put down the tongs and + walked towards the bedstead as if about to go to bed, but turned back and + pressed his forehead to a window-pane, looking out into the night with + sightless eyes. Could he be ill? Why did he feel such languor in all his + limbs, why did his blood burn in every vein? On two occasions, while at + the seminary, he had experienced similar attacks—a sort of physical + discomfort which made him most unhappy; one day, indeed, he had gone to + bed in raving delirium. Then he bethought himself of a young girl + possessed by evil spirits, whom Brother Archangias asserted he had cured + with a simple sign of the cross, one day when she fell down before him. + This reminded him of the spiritual exorcisms which one of his teachers had + formerly recommended to him: prayer, a general confession, frequent + communion, the choosing of a wise confessor who should have great + authority on his mind. And then, without any transition, with a suddenness + which astonished himself, he saw in the depths of his memory the round + face of one of his old friends, a peasant, who had been a choir boy at + eight years old, and whose expenses at the seminary were defrayed by a + lady who watched over him. He was always laughing, he rejoiced beforehand + at the anticipated emoluments of his career; twelve hundred francs of + stipend, a vicarage at the end of a garden, presents, invitations to + dinners, little profits from weddings, and baptismal and burial fees. That + young fellow must indeed be happy in his parish. + </p> + <p> + The feeling of melancholy regret evoked by this recollection surprised + Abbé Mouret extremely. Was he not happy, too? Until that day he had + regretted nothing, wished for nothing, envied nothing. Even as he searched + himself at that very moment he failed to find any cause for bitterness. He + believed himself the same as in the early days of his deaconship, when the + obligatory perusal of his breviary at certain stated hours had filled his + days with continuous prayer. No doubts had tormented him; he had + prostrated himself before the mysteries he could not understand; he had + sacrificed his reason, which he despised, with the greatest ease. When he + left the seminary, he had rejoiced at finding himself a stranger among his + fellowmen, no longer walking like them, carrying his head differently, + possessed of the gestures, words, and opinions of a being apart. He had + felt emasculated, nearer to the angels, cleansed of sexuality. It had + almost made him proud to belong no longer to his species, to have been + brought up for God and carefully purged of all human grossness by a + jealously watchful training. Again, it had seemed to him as if for years + he had been dwelling in holy oil, prepared with all due rites, which had + steeped his flesh in beatification. His limbs, his brain, had lost + material substance to gain in soulfulness, impregnated with a subtle + vapour which, at times, intoxicated him and dizzied him as if the earth + had suddenly failed beneath his feet. He displayed the fears, the + unwittingness, the open candour of a cloistered maiden. He sometimes + remarked with a smile that he was prolonging his childhood, under the + impression that he was still quite little, retaining the same sensations, + the same ideas, the same opinions as in the past. At six years old, for + instance, he had known as much of God as he knew at twenty-five; in prayer + the inflexions of his voice were still the same, and he yet took a + childish pleasure in folding his hands quite correctly. The world too + seemed to him the same as he had seen in former days when his mother led + him by the hand. He had been born a priest, and a priest he had grown up. + Whenever he displayed before La Teuse some particularly gross ignorance of + life, she would stare him in the face, astounded, and remark with a + strange smile that ‘he was Mademoiselle Desirée’s brother all over.’ + </p> + <p> + In all his existence he could only recall one shock of shame. It had + happened during his last six months at the seminary, between his + deaconship and priesthood. He had been ordered to read the work of Abbé + Craisson, the superior of the great seminary at Valence: ‘<i>De rebus + Veneris ad usum confessariorum</i>.’ And he had risen from this book + terrified and choking with sobs. That learned casuistry, dealing so fully + with the abominations of mankind, descending to the most monstrous + examples of vice, violated, as it were, all his virginity of body and + mind. He felt himself for ever befouled. Yet every time he heard + confessions he inevitably recurred to that catechism of shame. And though + the obscurities of dogma, the duties of his ministry, and the death of all + free will within him left him calm and happy at being nought but the child + of God, he retained, in spite of himself, a carnal taint of the horrors he + must needs stir up; he was conscious of an ineffaceable stain, deep down + somewhere in his being, which might some day grow larger and cover him + with mud. + </p> + <p> + The moon was rising behind the Garrigue hills. Abbé Mouret, still more and + more feverish, opened the window and leaned out upon his elbows, that he + might feel upon his face the coolness of the night. He could no longer + remember at what time exactly this illness had come upon him. He + recollected, however, that in the morning, while saying mass, he had been + quite calm and restful. It must have been later, perhaps during his long + walk in the sun, or while he shivered under the trees of the Paradou, or + while stifling in Desirée’s poultry-yard. And then he lived through the + day again. + </p> + <p> + Before him stretched the vast plain, more direful still beneath the pallid + light of the oblique moonbeams. The olive and almond trees showed like + grey spots amid the chaos of rocks spreading to the sombre row of hills on + the horizon. There were big splotches of gloom, bumpy ridges, blood-hued + earthy pools in which red stars seemed to contemplate one another, patches + of chalky light, suggestive of women’s garments cast off and disclosing + shadowy forms which slumbered in the hollow folds of ground. At night that + glowing landscape weltered there strangely, passionately, slumbering with + uncovered bosom, and outspread twisted limbs, whilst heaving mighty sighs, + and exhaling the strong aroma of a sweating sleeper. It was as if some + mighty Cybele had fallen there beneath the moon, intoxicated with the + embraces of the sun. Far away, Abbé Mouret’s eyes followed the path to Les + Olivettes, a narrow pale ribbon stretching along like a wavy stay-lace. He + could hear Brother Archangias whipping the truant schoolgirls, and + spitting in the faces of their elder sisters. He could see Rosalie slyly + laughing in her hands while old Bambousse hurled clods of earth after her + and smote her on her hips. Then, too, he thought, he had still been well, + his neck barely heated by the lovely morning sunshine. He had felt but a + quivering behind him, that confused hum of life, which he had faintly + heard since morning when the sun, in the midst of his mass, had entered + the church by the shattered windows. Never, then, had the country + disturbed him, as it did at this hour of night, with its giant bosom, its + yielding shadows, its gleams of ambery skin, its lavish goddess-like + nudity, scarce hidden by the silvery gauze of moonlight. + </p> + <p> + The young priest lowered his eyes, and gazed upon the village of Les + Artaud. It had sunk into the heavy slumber of weariness, the soundness of + peasants’ sleep. Not a light: the battered hovels showed like dusky mounds + intersected by the white stripes of cross lanes which the moonbeams swept. + Even the dogs were surely snoring on the thresholds of the closed doors. + Had the Artauds poisoned the air of the parsonage with some abominable + plague? Behind him gathered and swept the gust whose approach filled him + with so much anguish. Now he could detect a sound like the tramping of a + flock, a whiff of dusty air, which reached him laden with the emanations + of beasts. Again came back his thoughts of a handful of men beginning the + centuries over again, springing up between those naked rocks like thistles + sown by the winds. In his childhood nothing had amazed and frightened him + more than those myriads of insects which gushed forth when he raised + certain damp stones. The Artauds disturbed him even in their slumber; he + could recognise their breath in the air he inhaled. He would have liked to + have had the rocks alone below his window. The hamlet was not dead enough; + the thatched roofs bulged like bosoms; through the gaping cracks in the + doors came low faint sounds which spoke of all the swarming life within. + Nausea came upon him. Yet he had often faced it all without feeling any + other need than that of refreshing himself in prayer. + </p> + <p> + His brow perspiring, he proceeded to open the other window, as if to seek + cooler air. Below him, to his left, lay the graveyard with the Solitaire + erect like a bar, unstirred by the faintest breeze. From the empty field + arose an odour like that of a newly mown meadow. The grey wall of the + church, that wall full of lizards and planted with wall-flowers, gleamed + coldly in the moonlight, and the panes of one of the windows glistened + like plates of steel. The sleeping church could now have no other life + within it than the extra-human life of the Divinity embodied in the Host + enclosed in the tabernacle. He thought of the bracket lamp’s yellow glow + peeping out of the gloom, and was tempted to go down once more to try to + ease his ailing head amid those deep shadows. But a strange feeling of + terror held him back; he suddenly fancied, while his eyes were fixed upon + the moonlit panes, that he saw the church illumined by a furnace-like + glare, the blaze of a festival of hell, in which whirled the Month of May, + the plants, the animals, and the girls of Les Artaud, who wildly encircled + trees with their bare arms. Then, as he leaned over, he saw beneath him + Desirée’s poultry-yard, black and steaming. He could not clearly + distinguish the rabbit-hutches, the fowls’ roosting-places, or the ducks’ + house. The place was all one big mass heaped up in stench, still exhaling + in its sleep a pestiferous odour. From under the stable-door came the + acrid smell of the nanny-goat; while the little pig, stretched upon his + back, snorted near an empty porringer. And suddenly with his brazen throat + Alexander, the big yellow cock, raised a crow, which awoke in the distance + impassioned calls from all the cocks of the village. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once Abbé Mouret remembered: The fever had struck him in + Desirée’s farmyard, while he was looking at the hens still warm from + laying, the rabbit-does plucking the down from under them. And now the + feeling that some one was breathing on his neck became so distinct that he + turned at last to see who was behind him. And then he recalled Albine + bounding out of the Paradou, and the door slamming upon the vision of an + enchanted garden; he recalled the girl racing alongside the interminable + wall, following the gig at a run, and throwing birch leaves to the breeze + as kisses; he recalled her, again, in the twilight, laughing at the oaths + of Brother Archangias, her skirts skimming over the path like a cloudlet + of dust bowled along by the evening breeze. She was sixteen; how strange + she looked, with her rather elongated face! she savoured of the open air, + of the grass, of mother earth. And so accurate was his recollection of her + that he could once more see a scratch upon one of her supple wrists, a + rosy scar on her white skin. Why did she laugh like that when she looked + at him with her blue eyes? He was engulfed in her laugh as in a sonorous + wave which resounded and pressed close to him on every side; he inhaled + it, he felt it vibrate within him. Yes, all his evil came from that laugh + of hers which he had quaffed. + </p> + <p> + Standing in the middle of the room, with both windows open, he remained + shivering, seized with a fright which made him hide his face in his hands. + So this was the ending of the whole day; this evocation of a fair girl, + with a somewhat long face and eyes of blue. And the whole day came in + through the open windows. In the distance—the glow of those red + lands, the ardent passion of the big rocks, of the olive-trees springing + up amid the stones, of the vines twisting their arms by the roadside. + Nearer—the steam of human sweat borne in upon the air from Les + Artaud, the musty odour of the cemetery, the fragrance of incense from the + church, tainted by the scent of greasy-haired wenches. And there was also + the steaming muck-heap, the fumes of the poultry-yard, the oppressing + ferment of animal germs. And all these vapours poured in at once, in one + asphyxiating gust, so offensive, so violent, as to choke him. He tried to + close his senses, to subdue and annihilate them. But Albine reappeared + before him like a tall flower that had sprung and grown beautiful in that + soil. She was the natural blossom of that corruption, delicate in the + sunshine, her white shoulders expanding in youthfulness, her whole being + so fraught with the gladness of life, that she leaped from her stem and + darted upon his mouth, scenting him with her long ripple of laughter. + </p> + <p> + A cry burst from the priest. He had felt a burning touch upon his lips. A + stream as of fire coursed through his veins. And then, in search of + refuge, he threw himself on his knees before the statuette of the + Immaculate Conception, exclaiming, with folded hands: + </p> + <p> + ‘Holy Virgin of Virgins, pray for me!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <p> + The Immaculate Conception, set on the walnut chest of drawers, was smiling + softly, with her slender lips, marked by a dash of carmine. Her form was + small and wholly white. Her long white veil, falling from head to foot, + had but an imperceptible thread of gold around its edge. Her gown, draped + in long straight folds over a sexless figure, was fastened around her + flexible neck. Not a single lock of her chestnut hair peeped forth. Her + countenance was rosy, with clear eyes upturned to heaven: her hands were + clasped—rosy, childlike hands, whose finger-tips appeared beneath + the folds of her veil, above the azure scarf which seemed to girdle her + waist with two streaming ends of the firmament. Of all her womanly charms + not one was bared, except her feet, adorable feet which trod the mystical + eglantine. And from those nude feet sprang golden roses, like the natural + efflorescence of her twofold purity of flesh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Virgin most faithful, pray for me,’ the priest despairingly pleaded. + </p> + <p> + This Virgin had never distressed him. She was not a mother yet; she did + not offer Jesus to him, her figure did not yet present the rounded + outlines of maternity. She was not the Queen of Heaven descending, crowned + with gold and clothed in gold like a princess of the earth, borne in + triumph by a flight of cherubim. She had never assumed an awesome mien; + had never spoken to him with the austere severity of an all-powerful + mistress, the very sight of whom must bow all foreheads to the dust. He + could dare to look on her and love her, without fear of being moved by the + gentle wave of her chestnut hair; her bare feet alone excited his + affection, those feet of love which blossomed like a garden of chastity in + too miraculous a manner for him to seek to cover them with kisses. She + scented his room with lily-like fragrance. She was indeed the silver lily + planted in a golden vase, she was precious, eternal, impeccable purity. + Within the white veil, so closely drawn round her, there could be nothing + human—only a virgin flame, burning with ever even glow. At night + when he went to bed, in the morning when he woke, he could see her there, + still and ever wearing that same ecstatic smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother ever-virgin, pray for me!’ + he stammered in his fear, pressing close to the Virgin’s feet, as if he + could hear Albine’s sonorous footfalls behind him. ‘You are my refuge, the + source of my joy, the seat of my wisdom, the tower of ivory in which I + have shut up my purity. I place myself in your spotless hands, I beseech + you to take me, to cover me with a corner of your veil, to hide me beneath + your innocence, behind the hallowed rampart of your garment—so that + no fleshly breath may reach me. I need you, I die without you, I shall + feel for ever parted from you, if you do not bear me away in your helpful + arms, far hence into the glowing whiteness wherein you dwell. O Mary, + conceived without sin, annihilate me in the depths of the immaculate snow + that falls from your every limb. You are the miracle of eternal chastity. + Your race has sprung from a very beam of grace, like some wondrous tree + unsown by any germ. Your son, Jesus, was born of the breath of God; you + yourself were born without defilement of your mother’s womb, and I would + believe that this virginity goes back thus from age to age in endless + unwittingness of flesh. Oh! to live, to grow up outside the pale of the + senses! Oh! to perpetuate life solely by the contact of a celestial kiss!’ + </p> + <p> + This despairing appeal, this cry of purified longing, calmed the young + priest’s fears. The Virgin—wholly white, with eyes turned + heavenward, appeared to smile more tenderly with her thin red lips. And in + a softened voice he went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like to be a child once more. I should like to be always a + child, walking in the shadow of your gown. When I was quite little, I + clasped my hands when I uttered the name of Mary. My cradle was white, my + body was white, my every thought was white. I could see you distinctly, I + could hear you calling me, I went towards you in the light of a smile over + scattered rose-petals. And nought else did I feel or think, I lived but + just enough to be a flower at your feet. No one should grow up. You would + have around you none but fair young heads, a crowd of children who would + love you with pure hands, unsullied lips, tender limbs, stainless as if + fresh from a bath of milk. To kiss a child’s cheek is to kiss its soul. A + child alone can say your name without befouling it. In later years our + lips grow tainted and reek of our passions. Even I, who love you so much, + and have given myself to you, I dare not at all times call on you, for I + would not let you come in contact with the impurities of my manhood. I + have prayed and chastised my flesh, I have slept in your keeping, and + lived in chastity; and yet I weep to see that I am not yet dead enough to + this world to be your betrothed. O Mary! adorable Virgin, why can I not be + only five years old—why could I not remain the child who pressed his + lips to your pictures? I would take you to my heart, I would lay you by my + side, I would clasp and kiss you like a friend—like a girl of my own + age. Your close hanging garments, your childish veil, your blue scarf—all + that youthfulness which makes you like an elder sister would be mine. I + would not try to kiss your locks, for hair is a naked thing which should + not be seen; but I would kiss your bare feet, one after the other, for + nights and nights together, until my lips should have shred the petals of + those golden roses, those mystical roses of our veins.’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped, waiting for the Virgin to look down upon him and touch his + forehead with the edges of her veil. But she remained enwrapped in muslin + to her neck and finger-nails and ankles, so slim, so etherealised, that + she already seemed to be above earth, to be wholly heaven’s own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then,’ he went on more wildly still, ‘grant that I become a child + again, O kindly Virgin! Virgin most powerful. Grant that I may be only + five years old. Rid me of my senses, rid me of my manhood. Let a miracle + sweep away all the man that has grown up within me. You reign in heaven, + nothing is easier to you than to change me, to rid me of all my strength + so that evermore I may be unable to raise my little finger without your + leave. I wish never more to feel either nerve, or muscle, or the beating + of my heart. I long to be simply a thing—a white stone at your feet, + on which you will leave but a perfume; a stone that will not move from + where you cast it, but will remain earless and eyeless, content to lie + beneath your heel, unable to think of foulness! Oh! then what bliss for + me! I shall reach without an effort and at a bound my dream of perfection. + I shall at last proclaim myself your true priest. I shall become what all + my studies, my prayers, my five years of initiation have been unable to + make me. Yes, I reject life; I say that the death of mankind is better + than abomination. Everything is stained; everywhere is love tainted. Earth + is steeped in impurity, whose slightest drops yield growths of shame. But + that I may be perfect, O Queen of angels, hearken to my prayer, and grant + it! Make me one of those angels that have only two great wings behind + their cheeks; I shall then no longer have a body, no longer have any + limbs; I will fly to you if you call me. I shall be but a mouth to sing + your praises, a pair of spotless wings to cradle you in your journeys + through the heavens. O death! death! Virgin, most venerable, grant me the + death of all! I will love you for the death of my body, the death of all + that lives and multiplies. I will consummate with you the sole marriage + that my heart desires. I will ascend, ever higher and higher, till I have + reached the brasier in which you shine in splendour. There one beholds a + mighty planet, an immense white rose, whose every petal glows like a moon, + a silver throne whence you beam with such a blaze of innocence that heaven + itself is all illumined by the gleam of your veil alone. All that is + white, the early dawns, the snow on inaccessible peaks, the lilies barely + opening, the water of hidden, unknown springs, the milky sap of the plants + untouched by the sun, the smiles of maidens, the souls of children dead in + their cradles—all rains upon your white feet. And I will rise to + your mouth like a subtle flame; I will enter into you by your parted lips, + and the bridal will be fulfilled, while the archangels are thrilled by our + joyfulness. Oh, to be maiden, to love in maidenhood, to preserve amid the + sweetest kisses one’s maiden whiteness! To possess all love, stretched on + the wings of swans, in a sky of purity, in the arms of a mistress of + light, whose caresses are but raptures of the soul! Oh, there lies the + perfection, the super-human dream, the yearning which shatters my very + bones, the joy which bears me up to heaven! O Mary, Vessel of Election, + rid me of all that is human in me, so that you may fearlessly surrender to + me the treasure of your maidenhood!’ + </p> + <p> + And then Abbé Mouret, felled by fever, his teeth chattering, swooned away + on the floor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Through calico curtains, carefully drawn across the two large windows, a + pale white light like that of breaking day filtered into the room. It was + a lofty and spacious room, fitted up with old Louis XV. furniture, the + woodwork painted white, the upholstery showing a pattern of red flowers on + a leafy ground. On the piers above the doors on either side of the alcove + were faded paintings still displaying the rosy flesh of flying Cupids, + whose games it was now impossible to follow. The wainscoting with oval + panels, the folding doors, the rounded ceiling (once sky-blue and framed + with scrolls, medallions, and bows of flesh-coloured ribbons), had all + faded to the softest grey. Opposite the windows the large alcove opened + beneath banks of clouds which plaster Cupids drew aside, leaning over, and + peeping saucily towards the bed. And like the windows, the alcove was + curtained with coarsely hemmed calico, whose simplicity seemed strange in + this room where lingered a perfume of whilom luxury and voluptuousness. + </p> + <p> + Seated near a pier table, on which a little kettle bubbled over a + spirit-lamp, Albine intently watched the alcove curtains. She was gowned + in white, her hair gathered up in an old lace kerchief, her hands drooping + wearily, as she kept watch with the serious mien of youthful womanhood. A + faint breathing, like that of a slumbering child, could be heard in the + deep silence. But she grew restless after a few minutes, and could not + restrain herself from stepping lightly towards the alcove and raising one + of the curtains. On the edge of the big bed lay Serge, apparently asleep, + with his head resting on his bent arm. During his illness his hair had + lengthened, and his beard had grown. He looked very white, with sunken + eyes and pallid lips. + </p> + <p> + Moved by the sight Albine was about to let the curtain fall again. But + Serge faintly murmured, ‘I am not asleep.’ + </p> + <p> + He lay perfectly still with his head on his arm, without stirring even a + finger, as if overwhelmed by delightful weariness. His eyes had slowly + opened, and his breath blew lightly on one of his hands, raising the + golden down on his fair skin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard you,’ he murmured again. ‘You were walking very gently.‘* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * From this point in the original Serge and Albine thee and thou + one another; but although this <i>tutoiement</i> has some bearing on + the development of the story, it was impossible to preserve it + in an English translation.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + His voice enchanted her. She went up to his bed and crouched beside it to + bring her face on a level with his own. ‘How are you?’ she asked, and then + continued: ‘Oh! you are well now. Do you know, I used to cry the whole way + home when I came back from over yonder with bad news of you. They told me + you were delirious, and that if your dreadful fever did spare your life, + it would destroy your reason. Oh, didn’t I kiss your uncle Pascal when he + brought you here to recruit your health!’ + </p> + <p> + Then she tucked in his bed-clothes like a young mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Those burnt-up rocks over yonder, you see, were no good to you. You need + trees, and coolness, and quiet. The doctor hasn’t even told a soul that he + was hiding you away here. That’s a secret between himself and those who + love you. He thought you were lost. Nobody will ever disturb you, you may + be sure of that! Uncle Jeanbernat is smoking his pipe by his lettuce bed. + The others will get news of you on the sly. Even the doctor isn’t coming + back any more. I am to be your doctor now. You don’t want any more physic, + it seems. What you now want is to be loved; do you see?’ + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to hear her, his brain as yet was void. His eyes, although + his head remained motionless, wandered inquiringly round the room, and it + struck her that he was wondering where he might be. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is my room,’ she said. ‘I have given it to you. Isn’t it a pretty + one? I took the finest pieces of furniture out of the lumber attic, and + then I made those calico curtains to prevent the daylight from dazzling + me. And you’re not putting me out a bit. I shall sleep on the second + floor. There are three or four empty rooms there.’ + </p> + <p> + Still he looked anxious. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re alone?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes; why do you ask that?’ + </p> + <p> + He made no answer, but muttered wearily: ‘I have been dreaming, I am + always dreaming. I hear bells ringing, and they tire me.’ + </p> + <p> + And after a pause he went on: ‘Go and shut the door, bolt it; I want you + to be alone, quite alone.’ + </p> + <p> + When she came back, bringing a chair with her, and sat down by his pillow, + he looked as gleeful as a child, and kept on saying: ‘Nobody can come in + now. I shall not hear those bells any more. When you are talking to me, it + rests me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + He made a sign that he was not thirsty. He looked at Albine’s hands as if + so astonished, so delighted to see them, that with a smile she laid one on + the edge of his pillow. Then he let his head glide down, and rested his + cheek against that small, cool hand, saying, with a light laugh: ‘Ah! it’s + as soft as silk. It is just as if it were sending a cool breeze through my + hair. Don’t take it away, please.’ + </p> + <p> + Then came another long spell of silence. They gazed on one another with + loving kindliness—Albine calmly scanning herself in the + convalescent’s eyes, Serge apparently listening to some faint whisper from + the small, cool hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your hand is so nice,’ he said once more. ‘You can’t fancy what good it + does me. It seems to steal inside me, and take away all the pain in my + limbs. It’s as if I were being soothed all over, relieved, cured.’ + </p> + <p> + He gently rubbed his cheek against it, with growing animation, as if he + were at last coming back to life. + </p> + <p> + ‘You won’t give me anything nasty to drink, will you? You won’t worry me + with all sorts of physic? Your hand is quite enough for me. I have come + here for you to put it there under my head.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Serge,’ said Albine softly, ‘how you must have suffered.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Suffered! yes, yes; but it’s a long time ago. I slept badly, I had such + frightful dreams. If I could, I would tell you all about it.’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes for a moment and strove hard to remember. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can see nothing but darkness,’ he stammered. ‘It is very odd, I have + just come back from a long journey. I don’t even know now where I started + from. I had fever, I know, a fever that raced through my veins like a wild + beast. That was it—now I remember. The whole time I had a nightmare, + in which I seemed to be crawling along an endless underground passage; and + every now and then I had an attack of intolerable pain, and then the + passage would be suddenly walled up. A shower of stones fell from + overhead, the side walls closed in, and there I stuck, panting, mad to get + on; and then I bored into the obstacle and battered away with feet and + fists, and skull, despairing of ever being able to get through the ever + increasing mound of rubbish. At other times, I only had to touch it with + my finger and it vanished: I could then walk freely along the widened + gallery, weary only from the pangs of my attack.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine tried to lay a hand upon his lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said he, ‘it doesn’t tire me to talk. I can whisper to you here, you + see. I feel as if I were thinking and you could hear me. The queerest + point about that underground journey of mine was that I hadn’t the + faintest idea of turning back again; I got obstinate, although I had the + thought before me that it would take me thousands of years to clear away a + single heap of wreckage. It seemed a fated task, which I had to fulfil + under pain of the greatest misfortunes. So, with my knees all bruised, and + my forehead bumping against the hard rock, I set myself to work with all + my might, so that I might get to the end as quickly as possible. The end? + What was it?... Ah! I do not know, I do not know.’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes and pondered dreamily. Then, with a careless pout, he + again sank upon Albine’s hand and said laughing: ‘How silly of me! I am a + child.’ + </p> + <p> + But the girl, to ascertain if he were wholly hers, questioned him and led + him back to the confused recollections he had tried to summon up. He could + remember nothing, however; he was truly in a happy state of childhood. He + fancied that he had been born the day before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I am not strong enough yet,’ he said. ‘My furthest recollection is of + a bed which burned me all over, my head rolled about on a pillow like a + pan of live coals, and my feet wore away with perpetual rubbing against + each other. I was very bad, I know. It seemed as if I were having my body + changed, as if I were being taken all to pieces, and put together again + like some broken machine.’ + </p> + <p> + He laughed at this simile, and continued: ‘I shall be all new again. My + illness has given me a fine cleaning. But what was it you were asking me? + No, nobody was there. I was suffering all by myself at the bottom of a + black hole. Nobody, nobody. And beyond that, nothing—I can see + nothing.... Let me be your child, will you? You shall teach me to walk. I + can see nothing else but you now. I care for nothing but you.... I can’t + remember, I tell you. I came, you took me, and that is all.’ + </p> + <p> + And restfully, pettingly, he said once more: ‘How warm your hand is now! + it is as nice as the sun. Don’t let us talk any more. It makes me hot.’ + </p> + <p> + A quivering silence fell from the blue ceiling of the large room. The + spirit lamp had just gone out, and from the kettle came a finer and finer + thread of steam. Albine and Serge, their heads side by side upon the + pillow, gazed at the large calico curtains drawn across the windows. + Serge’s eyes, especially, were attracted to them as to the very source of + light, in which he sought to steep himself, as in diluted sunshine fitted + to his weakness. He could tell that the sun lay behind that yellower gleam + upon one corner of the curtain, and that sufficed to make him feel himself + again. Meanwhile a far-off rustle of leaves came upon his listening ear, + and against the right-hand window the clean-cut greenish shadow of a lofty + bough brought him disturbing thoughts of the forest which he could feel to + be near him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you like me to open the curtains?’ asked Albine, misunderstanding + his steady gaze. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ he hastily replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a fine day; you would see the sunlight and the trees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, please don’t.... I don’t want to see anything outside. That bough + there tires me with its waving and its rising, as if it was alive. Leave + your hand here, I will go to sleep. All is white now. It’s so nice.’ + </p> + <p> + And then he calmly fell asleep, while Albine watched beside him and + breathed upon his face to make his slumber cool. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The fine weather broke up on the morrow, and it rained heavily. Serge’s + fever returned, and he spent a day of suffering, with his eyes + despairingly fixed upon the curtains through which the light now fell dim + and ashy grey as in a cellar. He could no longer see a trace of sunshine, + and he looked in vain for the shadow that had scared him, the shadow of + that lofty bough which had disappeared amid the mist and the pouring rain, + and seemed to have carried away with it the whole forest. Towards evening + he became slightly delirious and cried out to Albine that the sun was + dead, that he could hear all the sky, all the country bewailing the death + of the sun. She had to soothe him like a child, promising him the sun, + telling him that it would come back again, that she would give it to him. + But he also grieved for the plants. The seeds, he said, must be suffering + underground, waiting for the return of light; they had nightmares, they + also dreamed that they were crawling along an underground passage, + hindered by mounds of ruins, struggling madly to reach the sunshine. And + he began to weep and sob out in low tones that winter was a disease of the + earth, and that he should die with the earth, unless the springtide healed + them both. + </p> + <p> + For three days more the weather was truly frightful. The downpour burst + over the trees with the awful clamour of an overflowing river. Gusts of + wind rolled by and beat against the windows with the violence of enormous + waves. Serge had insisted on Albine closing the shutters. By lamplight he + was no longer troubled by the gloom of the pallid curtains, he no longer + felt the greyness of the sky glide in through the smallest chinks, and + flow up to him like a cloud of dust intent on burying him. However, + increasing apathy crept upon him as he lay there with shrunken arms and + pallid features; his weakness augmented as the earth grew more ailing. At + times, when the clouds were inky black, when the bending trees cracked, + and the grass lay limp beneath the downpour like the hair of a drowned + woman, he all but ceased to breathe, and seemed to be passing away, + shattered by the hurricane. But at the first gleam of light, at the + tiniest speck of blue between two clouds, he breathed once more and drank + in the soothing calm of the drying leaves, the whitening paths, the fields + quaffing their last draught of water. Albine now also longed for the sun; + twenty times a day would she go to the window on the landing to scan the + sky, delighted at the smallest scrap of white that she espied, but + perturbed when she perceived any dusky, copper-tinted, hail-laden masses, + and ever dreading lest some sable cloud should kill her dear patient. She + talked of sending for Doctor Pascal, but Serge would not have it. + </p> + <p> + ‘To-morrow there will be sunlight on the curtains,’ he said, ‘and then I + shall be well again.’ + </p> + <p> + One evening when his condition was most alarming, Albine again gave him + her hand to rest his cheek upon. But when she saw that it brought him no + relief she wept to find herself powerless. Since he had fallen into the + lethargy of winter she had felt too weak to drag him unaided from the + nightmare in which he was struggling. She needed the assistance of spring. + She herself was fading away, her arms grew cold, her breath scant; she no + longer knew how to breathe life into him. For hours together she would + roam about the spacious dismal room, and as she passed before the mirror + and saw herself darkening in it, she thought she had become hideous. + </p> + <p> + One morning, however, as she raised his pillows, not daring to try again + the broken spell of her hands, she fancied that she once more caught the + first day’s smile on Serge’s lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Open the shutters,’ he said faintly. + </p> + <p> + She thought him still delirious, for only an hour previously she had seen + but a gloomy sky on looking out from the landing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush, go to sleep,’ she answered sadly; ‘I have promised to wake you at + the very first ray—— Sleep on, there’s no sun out yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I can feel it, its light is there.... Open the shutters.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + And there, indeed, the sunlight was. When Albine had opened the shutters, + behind the large curtains, the genial yellow glow once more warmed a patch + of the white calico. But that which impelled Serge to sit up in bed was + the sight of the shadowy bough, the branch that for him heralded the + return of life. All the resuscitated earth, with its wealth of greenery, + its waters, and its belts of hills, was in that greenish blur that + quivered with the faintest breath of air. It no longer disturbed him; he + greedily watched it rocking, and hungered for the fortified powers of the + vivifying sap which to him it symbolised. Albine, happy once more, + exclaimed, as she supported him in her arms: ‘Ah! my dear Serge, the + winter is over. Now we are saved.’ + </p> + <p> + He lay down again, his eyes already brighter, and his voice clearer. + ‘To-morrow I shall be very strong,’ he said. ‘You shall draw back the + curtains. I want to see everything.’ + </p> + <p> + But on the morrow he was seized with childish fear. He would not hear of + the windows being opened wide. ‘By-and-by,’ he muttered, ‘later on.’ He + was fearful, he dreaded the first beam of light that would flash upon his + eyes. Evening came on, and still he had been unable to make up his mind to + look upon the sun. He remained thus all day long, his face turned towards + the curtains, watching on their transparent tissue the pallor of morn, the + glow of noon, the violet tint of twilight, all the hues, all the emotions + of the sky. There were pictured even the quiverings of the warm air at the + light stroke of a bird’s wing, even the delight of earth’s odours + throbbing in a sunbeam. Behind that veil, behind that softened phantasm of + the mighty life without, he could hear the rise of spring. He even felt + stifled at times when in spite of the curtains’ barrier the rush of the + earth’s new blood came upon him too strongly. + </p> + <p> + The following morning he was still asleep when Albine, to hasten his + recovery, cried out to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge! here’s the sun!’ + </p> + <p> + She swiftly drew back the curtains and threw the windows wide open. He + raised himself and knelt upon his bed, oppressed, swooning, his hands + tightly pressed against his breast to keep his heart from breaking. Before + him stretched the broad sky, all blue, a boundless blue; and in it he + washed away his sufferings, surrendering himself to it, and drinking from + it sweetness and purity and youth. The bough whose shadow he had noted + jutted across the window and alone set against the azure sea its vigorous + growth of green; but even this was too much for his sickly fastidiousness; + it seemed to him that the very swallows flying past besmeared the purity + of the azure. He was being born anew. He raised little involuntary cries, + as he felt himself flooded with light, assailed by waves of warm air, + while a whirling, whelming torrent of life flowed within him. As last with + outstretched hands he sank back upon his pillow in a swoon of joy. + </p> + <p> + What a happy, delicious day that was! The sun came in from the right, far + away from the alcove. Throughout the morning Serge watched it creeping + onward. He could see it coming towards him, yellow as gold, perching here + and there on the old furniture, frolicking in corners, at times gliding + along the ground like a strip of ribbon. It was a slow deliberate march, + the approach of a fond mistress stretching her golden limbs, drawing nigh + to the alcove with rhythmic motion, with voluptuous lingering, which + roused intense desire. At length, towards two o’clock, the sheet of + sunlight left the last armchair, climbed along the coverlet, and spread + over the bed like loosened locks of hair. To its glowing fondling Serge + surrendered his wasted hands: with his eyes half-closed, he could feel + fiery kisses thrilling each of his fingers; he lay in a bath of light, in + the embrace of a glowing orb. And when Albine leaned over smiling, ‘Let me + be,’ he stammered, his eyes now shut; ‘don’t hold me so tightly. How do + you manage to hold me like this in your arms?’ + </p> + <p> + But the sun crept down the bed again and slowly retreated to the left; and + as Serge watched it bend once more and settle on chair after chair, he + bitterly regretted that he had not kept it to his breast. Albine still sat + upon the side of the bed, and the pair of them, an arm round each other’s + neck, watched the slow paling of the sky. At times a mighty thrill seemed + to make it blanch. Serge’s languid eyes now wandered over it more freely + and detected in it exquisite tints of which he had never dreamed. It was + not all blue, but rosy blue, lilac blue, tawny blue, living flesh, vast + and spotless nudity heaving like a woman’s bosom in the breeze. At every + glance into space he found a fresh surprise—unknown nooks, coy + smiles, bewitching rounded outlines, gauzy veils which were cast over the + mighty, glorious forms of goddesses in the depths of peeping paradises. + And with his limbs lightened by suffering he winged his way amid that + shimmering silk, that stainless down of azure. The sun sank lower and + lower, the blue melted into purest gold, the sky’s living flesh gleamed + fairer still, and then was slowly steeped in all the hues of gloom. Not a + cloud—nought but gradual disappearance, a disrobing which left + behind it but a gleam of modesty on the horizon. And at last the broad sky + slumbered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, the dear baby!’ exclaimed Albine, as she looked at Serge, who had + fallen asleep upon her neck at the same time as the heavens. + </p> + <p> + She laid him down in bed and shut the windows. Next morning, however, they + were opened at break of day. Serge could no longer live without the + sunlight. His strength was growing, he was becoming accustomed to the + gusts of air which sent the alcove curtains flying. Even the azure, the + everlasting azure, began to pall upon him. He grew weary of being white + and swanlike, of ever swimming on heaven’s limpid lake. He came to wish + for a pack of black clouds, some crumbling of the skies, that would break + upon the monotony of all that purity. And as his health returned, he + hungered for keener sensations. He now spent hours in gazing at the + verdant bough: he would have liked to see it grow, expand, and throw out + its branches to his very bed. It no longer satisfied him, but only roused + desires, speaking to him as it did of all the trees whose deep-sounding + call he could hear although their crests were hidden from his sight. An + endless whispering of leaves, a chattering as of running water, a + fluttering as of wings, all blended in one mighty, long-drawn, quivering + voice, resounded in his ears. + </p> + <p> + ‘When you are able to get up,’ said Albine, ‘you shall sit at the window. + You will see the lovely garden!’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes and murmured gently: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I can see it, I hear it; I know where the trees are, where the water + runs, where the violets grow.’ + </p> + <p> + And then he added: ‘But I can’t see it clearly, I see it without any + light. I must be very strong before I shall be able to get as far as the + window.’ + </p> + <p> + At times when Albine thought him asleep, she would vanish for hours. And + on coming in again, she would find him burning with impatience, his eyes + gleaming with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where have you been?’ he would call to her, taking hold of her arms, and + feeling her skirts, her bodice, and her cheeks. ‘You smell of all sorts of + nice things. Ah! you have been walking on the grass?’ + </p> + <p> + At this she would laugh and show him her shoes wet with dew. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been in the garden! you have been in the garden!’ he then + exclaimed delightedly. ‘I knew it. When you came in you seemed like a + large flower. You have brought the whole garden in your skirt.’ + </p> + <p> + He would keep her by him, inhaling her like a nosegay. Sometimes she came + back with briars, leaves, or bits of wood entangled in her clothes. These + he would remove and hide under his pillow like relics. One day she brought + him a bunch of roses. At the sight of them he was so affected that he + wept. He kissed them and went to sleep with them in his arms. But when + they faded, he felt so keenly grieved that he forbade Albine to gather any + more. He preferred her, said he, for she was as fresh and as balmy; and + she never faded, her hands, her hair, her cheeks were always fragrant. At + last he himself would send her into the garden, telling her not to come + back before an hour. + </p> + <p> + ‘In that way,’ he said, ‘I shall get sunlight, fresh air, and roses till + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Often, when he saw her coming in out of breath, he would cross-examine + her. Which path had she taken? Had she wandered among the trees, or had + she gone round the meadow side? Had she seen any nests? Had she sat down + behind a bush of sweetbriar, or under an oak, or in the shade of a clump + of poplars? But when she answered him and tried to describe the garden to + him, he would put his hand to her lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ he said gently. ‘It is wrong of me. I don’t want to know. I + would rather see it myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he would relapse into his favourite dream of all the greenery which + he could feel only a step away. For several days he lived on that dream + alone. At first, he said, he had perceived the garden much more + distinctly. As he gained strength, the surging blood that warmed his veins + seemed to blur his dreamy imaginings. His uncertainties multiplied. He + could no longer tell whether the trees were on the right, whether the + water flowed at the bottom of the garden, or whether some great rocks were + not piled below his windows. He talked softly of all this to himself. On + the slightest indication he would rear wondrous plans, which the song of a + bird, the creaking of a bough, the scent of a flower, would suddenly make + him modify, impelling him to plant a thicket of lilac in one spot, and in + another to place flower-beds where formerly there had been a lawn. Every + hour he designed some new garden, much to the amusement of Albine, who, + whenever she surprised him at it, would exclaim with a burst of laughter: + ‘That’s not it, I assure you. You can’t have any idea of it. It’s more + beautiful than all the beautiful things you ever saw. So don’t go racking + your head about it. The garden’s mine, and I will give it to you. Be easy, + it won’t run away.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge, who had already been so afraid of the light, felt considerable + trepidation when he found himself strong enough to go and rest his elbows + on the window-sill. Every evening he once more repeated, ‘To-morrow,’ and + ‘To-morrow.’ He would turn away in his bed with a shudder when Albine came + in, and would cry out that she smelt of hawthorn, that she had scratched + her hands in burrowing a hole through a hedge to bring him all its odour. + One morning, however, she suddenly took him up in her arms, and almost + carrying him to the window, held him there and forced him to look out and + see. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a coward you are!’ she exclaimed with her fine ringing laugh. + </p> + <p> + And waving one hand all round the landscape, she repeated with an air of + triumph, full of tender promise: ‘The Paradou! The Paradou!’ + </p> + <p> + Serge looked out upon it, speechless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + A sea of verdure, in front, to right, to left, everywhere. A sea rolling + its surging billows of leaves as far as the horizon, unhindered by house, + or screen of wall, or dusty road. A desert, virgin, hallowed sea, + displaying its wild sweetness in the innocence of solitude. The sun alone + came thither, weltering in the meadows in a sheet of gold, threading the + paths with the frolicsome scamper of its beams, letting its fine-spun, + flaming locks droop through the trees, sipping from the springs with amber + lips that thrilled the water. Beneath that flaming dust the vast garden + ran riot like some delighted beast let loose at the world’s very end, far + from everything and free from everything. So prodigal was the luxuriance + of foliage, so overflowing the tide of herbage, that from end to end it + all seemed hidden, flooded, submerged. Nought could be seen but slopes of + green, stems springing up like fountains, billowy masses, woodland + curtains closely drawn, mantles of creepers trailing over the ground, and + flights of giant boughs swooping down upon every side. + </p> + <p> + Amidst that tremendous luxuriance of vegetation even lengthy scrutiny + could barely make out the bygone plan of the Paradou. In the foreground, + in a sort of immense amphitheatre, must have lain the flower garden, whose + fountains were now sunken and dry, its stone balustrades shattered, its + flight of steps all warped, and its statues overthrown, patches of their + whiteness gleaming amidst the dusky stretches of turf. Farther back, + behind the blue line of a sheet of water, stretched a maze of fruit-trees; + farther still rose towering woodland, its dusky, violet depths streaked + with bands of light. It was a forest which had regained virginity, an + endless stretch of tree-tops rising one above the other, tinged with + yellowish green and pale green and vivid green, according to the variety + of the species. + </p> + <p> + On the right, the forest scaled some hills, dotting them with little + clumps of pine-trees, and dying away in straggling brushwood, while a huge + barrier of barren rock, heaped together like the fallen wreckage of a + mountain, shut out all view beyond. Flaming growths there cleaved the + rugged soil, monstrous plants lay motionless in the heat, like drowsing + reptiles; a silvery streak, a foamy splash that glistened in the distance + like a cloud of pearls, revealed the presence of a waterfall, the source + of those tranquil streams that lazily skirted the flower-garden. Lastly, + on the left the river flowed through a vast stretch of meadowland, where + it parted into four streamlets which winded fitfully beneath the rushes, + between the willows, behind the taller trees. And far away into the + distance grassy patches prolonged the lowland freshness, forming a + landscape steeped in bluish haze, where a gleam of daylight slowly melted + into the verdant blue of sunset. The Paradou—its flower-garden, + forest, rocks, streams, and meadows—filled the whole breadth of sky. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Paradou!’ stammered Serge, stretching out his arms as if to clasp the + entire garden to his breast. + </p> + <p> + He tottered, and Albine had to seat him in an armchair. There he sat for + two whole hours intently gazing, without opening his lips, his chin + resting on his hands. At times his eyelids fluttered and a flush rose to + his cheeks. Slowly he looked, profoundly amazed. It was all too vast, too + complex, too overpowering. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot see, I cannot understand,’ he cried, stretching out his hands to + Albine with a gesture of uttermost weariness. + </p> + <p> + The girl came and leant over the back of his armchair. Taking his head + between her hands, she compelled him to look again, and softly said: + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all our own. Nobody will ever come in. When you are well again, we + will go for walks there. We shall have room enough for walking all our + lives. We’ll go wherever you like. Where would you like to go?’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! not far,’ he murmured. ‘The first day only two steps or so beyond the + door. I should surely fall—— See, I’ll go over there, under + that tree close to the window.’ + </p> + <p> + But she resumed: ‘Would you like to go into the flower-garden, the + parterre? You shall see the roses—they have over-run everything, + even the old paths are all covered with them. Or would you like the + orchard better? I can only crawl into it on my hands and knees, the boughs + are so bowed down with fruit. But we’ll go even farther if you feel strong + enough. We’ll go as far as the forest, right into the depths of shade, + far, far away; so far that we’ll sleep out there when night steals over + us. Or else, some morning, we can climb up yonder to the summit of those + rocks. You’ll see the plants which make me quake; you’ll see the springs, + such a shower of water! What fun it will be to feel the spray all over our + faces!... But if you prefer to walk along the hedges, beside a brook, we + must go round by the meadows. It is so nice under the willows in the + evening, at sunset. One can lie down on the grass and watch the little + green frogs hopping about on the rushes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ said Serge, ‘you weary me, I don’t want to go so far.... I will + only go a couple of steps, that will be more than enough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Even I,’ she still continued, ‘even I have not yet been able to go + everywhere. There are many nooks I don’t know. I have walked and walked in + it for years, and still I feel sure there are unknown spots around, places + where the shade must be cooler and the turf softer. Listen, I have always + fancied there must be one especially in which I should like to live for + ever. I know it’s somewhere; I must have passed it by, or perhaps it’s + hidden so far away that I have never even got as far, with all my rambles. + But we’ll look for it together, Serge, won’t we? and live there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, be quiet,’ stammered the young man. ‘I don’t understand what you + are saying. You’re killing me.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment she let him sob in her arms. It troubled and grieved her that + she could find no words to soothe him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t the Paradou as beautiful, then, as you fancied it?’ she asked at + last. + </p> + <p> + He raised his face and answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. It was quite little, and now it is ever growing bigger and + bigger—— Take me away, hide me.’ + </p> + <p> + She led him back to bed, soothing him like a child, lulling him with a + fib. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there! it’s not true, there is no garden. It was only a story that + I told you. Go, sleep in peace.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + Every day in this wise she made him sit at the window during the cool + hours of morning. He would now attempt to take a few steps, leaning the + while on the furniture. A rosy tint appeared upon his cheeks, and his + hands began to lose their waxy transparency. But, while he thus regained + health, his senses remained in a state of stupor which reduced him to the + vegetative life of some poor creature born only the day before. Indeed, he + was nothing but a plant; his sole perception was that of the air which + floated round him. He lacked the blood necessary for the efforts of life, + and remained, as it were, clinging to the soil, imbibing all the sap he + could. It was like a slow hatching in the warm egg of springtide. Albine, + remembering certain remarks of Doctor Pascal, felt terrified at seeing him + remain in this state, ‘innocent,’ dull-witted like a little boy. She had + heard it said that certain maladies left insanity behind them. And she + spent hours in gazing at him and trying her utmost, as mothers do, to make + him smile. But as yet he had not laughed. When she passed her hand across + his eyes, he never saw, he never followed the shadow. Even when she spoke + to him, he barely turned his head in the direction whence the sound came. + She had but one consolation: he thrived splendidly, he was quite a + handsome child. + </p> + <p> + For another whole week she lavished the tenderest care on him. She + patiently waited for him to grow. And as she marked various symptoms of + awakening perception, her fears subsided and she began to think that time + might make a man of him. When she touched him now he started slightly. + Another time, one night, he broke into a feeble laugh. On the morrow, when + she had seated him at the window, she went down into the garden, and ran + about in it, calling to him the while. She vanished under the trees, + flitted across the sunny patches, and came back breathless and clapping + her hands. At first his wavering eyes failed to perceive her. But as she + started off again, perpetually playing at hide-and-seek, reappearing + behind every other bush, he was at last able to follow the white gleam of + her skirt; and when she suddenly came forward and stood with upraised face + below his window, he stretched out his arms and seemed anxious to go down + to her. But she came upstairs again, and embraced him proudly: ‘Ah! you + saw me, you saw me!’ she cried. ‘You would like to come into the garden + with me, would you not?—— If you only knew how wretched you + have made me these last few days, with your stupid ways, never seeing me + or hearing me!’ + </p> + <p> + He listened to her, but apparently with some slight sensation of pain that + made him bend his neck in a shrinking way. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are better now, however,’ she went on. ‘Well enough to come down + whenever you like—— Why don’t you say anything? Have you lost + your tongue? Oh, what a baby! Why, I shall have to teach him how to talk!’ + </p> + <p> + And thereupon she really did amuse herself by telling him the names of the + things he touched. He could only stammer, reiterating the syllables, and + failing to utter a single word plainly. However, she began to walk him + about the room, holding him up and leading him from the bed to the window—quite + a long journey. Two or three times he almost fell on the way, at which she + laughed. One day he fairly sat down on the floor, and she had all the + trouble in the world to get him up on his feet again. Then she made him + undertake the round of the room, letting him rest by the way on the sofa + and the chairs—a tour round a little world which took up a good + hour. At last he was able to venture on a few steps alone. She would stand + before him with outstretched hands, and move backwards, calling him, so + that he should cross the room in search of her supporting arms. If he + sulked and refused to walk, she would take the comb from her hair and hold + it out to him like a toy. Then he would come to her and sit still in a + corner for hours, playing with her comb, and gently scratching his hands + with its teeth. + </p> + <p> + At last one morning she found him up. He had already succeeded in opening + one of the shutters, and was attempting to walk about without leaning on + the furniture. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious, we are active this morning!’ she exclaimed gleefully. + ‘Why, he will be jumping out of the window to-morrow if he has his own way—— + So you are quite strong now, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + Serge’s answer was a childish laugh. His limbs were regaining the strength + of adolescence, but more perceptive sensations remained unroused. He spent + whole afternoons in gazing out on the Paradou, pouting like a child that + sees nought but whiteness and hears but the vibration of sounds. He still + retained the ignorance of urchinhood—his sense of touch as yet so + innocent that he failed to tell Albine’s gown from the covers of the old + armchairs. His eyes still stared wonderingly; his movements still + displayed the wavering hesitation of limbs which scarce knew how to reach + their goal; his state was one of incipient, purely instinctive existence + into which entered no knowledge of surroundings. The man was not yet born + within him. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right, you’ll act the silly, will you?’ muttered Albine. ‘We’ll + see.’ + </p> + <p> + She took off her comb, and held it out to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you have my comb?’ she said. ‘Come and fetch it.’ + </p> + <p> + When she had got him out of the room, by retreating before him all the + way, she put her arm round his waist and helped him down each stair, + amusing him while she put her comb back, even tickling his neck with a + lock of her hair, so that he remained unaware that he was going + downstairs. But when he was in the hall, he became frightened at the + darkness of the passage. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just look!’ she cried, throwing the door wide open. + </p> + <p> + It was like a sudden dawn, a curtain of shadow snatched aside, revealing + the joyousness of early day. The park spread out before them verdantly + limpid, freshly cool and deep as a spring. Serge, entranced, lingered upon + the threshold, with a hesitating desire to feel that luminous lake with + his foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘One would think you were afraid of wetting yourself,’ said Albine. ‘Don’t + be frightened, the ground is safe enough.’ + </p> + <p> + He had ventured to take one step, and was astonished at encountering the + soft resistance of the gravel. The first touch of the soil gave him a + shock; life seemed to rebound within him and to set him for a moment + erect, with expanding frame, while he drew long breaths. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come now, be brave,’ insisted Albine. ‘You know you promised me to take + five steps. We’ll go as far as the mulberry tree there under the window—— + There you can rest.’ + </p> + <p> + It took him a quarter of an hour to make those five steps. After each + effort he stopped as if he had been obliged to tear up roots that held him + to the ground. + </p> + <p> + The girl, pushing him along, said with a laugh: ‘You look just like a + walking tree.’ + </p> + <p> + Having placed him with his back leaning against the mulberry tree, in the + rain of sunlight falling from its boughs, she bounded off and left him, + calling out to him that he must not stir. Serge, standing there with + drooping hands, slowly turned his head towards the park. Terrestrial + childhood met his gaze. The pale greenery was steeped in the very milk of + youth, flooded with golden brightness. The trees were still in infancy, + the flowers were as tender-fleshed as babes, the streams were blue with + the artless blue of lovely infantile eyes. Beneath every leaf was some + token of a delightful awakening. + </p> + <p> + Serge had fixed his eyes upon a yellow breach which a wide path made in + front of him amidst a dense mass of foliage. At the very end, eastward, + some meadows, steeped in gold, looked like the luminous field upon which + the sun would descend, and he waited for the morn to take that path and + flow towards him. He could feel it coming in a warm breeze, so faint at + first that it barely brushed across his skin, but rising little by little, + and growing ever brisker till he was thrilled all over. He could also + taste it coming with a more and more pronounced savour, bringing the + healthful acridity of the open air, holding to his lips a feast of sugary + aromatics, sour fruits, and milky shoots. Further, he could smell it + coming with the perfumes which it culled upon its way—the scent of + earth, the scent of the shady woods, the scent of the warm plants, the + scent of living animals, a whole posy of scents, powerful enough to bring + on dizziness. He could likewise hear it coming with the rapid flight of a + bird skimming over the grass, waking the whole garden from silence, giving + voice to all it touched, and filling his ears with the music of things and + beings. Finally, he could see it coming from the end of the path, from the + meadows steeped in gold—yes, he could see that rosy air, so bright + that it lighted the way it took with a gleaming smile, no bigger in the + distance than a spot of daylight, but in a few swift bounds transformed + into the very splendour of the sun. And the morn flowed up and beat + against the mulberry tree against which Serge was leaning. And he himself + resuscitated amidst the childhood of the morn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge!’ cried Albine, lost to sight behind the high shrubs of the + flower garden. ‘Don’t be afraid, I am here.’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge no longer felt frightened. He was being born anew in the + sunshine, in that pure bath of light which streamed upon him. He was being + born anew at five-and-twenty, his senses hurriedly unclosing, enraptured + with the mighty sky, the joyful earth, the prodigy of loveliness spread + out around him. This garden, which he knew not only the day before, now + afforded him boundless delight. Everything filled him with ecstasy, even + the blades of grass, the pebbles in the paths, the invisible puffs of air + that flitted over his cheeks. His whole body entered into possession of + this stretch of nature; he embraced it with his limbs, he drank it in with + his lips, he inhaled it with his nostrils, he carried it in his ears and + hid it in the depths of his eyes. It was his own. The roses of the flower + garden, the lofty boughs of the forest, the resounding rocks of the + waterfall, the meadows which the sun planted with blades of light, were + his. Then he closed his eyes and slowly reopened them that he might enjoy + the dazzle of a second wakening. + </p> + <p> + ‘The birds have eaten all the strawberries,’ said Albine disconsolately, + as she ran up to him. ‘See, I have only been able to find these two!’ + </p> + <p> + But she stopped short a few steps away, heart-struck and gazing at Serge + with rapturous astonishment. ‘How handsome you are!’ she cried. + </p> + <p> + She drew a little nearer; then stood there, absorbed in her contemplation, + and murmuring: ‘I had never, never seen you before.’ + </p> + <p> + He had certainly grown taller. Clothed in a loose garment, he stood erect, + still somewhat slender, with finely moulded limbs, square chest, and + rounded shoulders. His head, slightly thrown back, was poised upon a + flexible and snowy neck, rimmed with brown behind. Health and strength and + power were on his face. He did not smile, his expression was that of + repose, with grave and tender mouth, firm cheeks, large nose, and grey, + clear, commanding eyes. The long locks that thickly covered his head fell + upon his shoulders in jetty curls; while a slender growth of hair, through + which gleamed his white skin, curled upon his upper lip and chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! how handsome, how handsome you are!’ lingeringly repeated Albine, + crouching at his feet and gazing up at him with loving eyes. ‘But why are + you sulking with me? Why don’t you speak to me?’ + </p> + <p> + Still he stood there and made no answer. His eyes were far away; he never + even saw that child at his feet. He spoke to himself in the sunlight, and + said: ‘How good the light is!’ + </p> + <p> + That utterance sounded like a vibration of the sunlight itself. It fell + amid the silence in the faintest of whispers like a musical sigh, a quiver + of warmth and of life. For several days Albine had never heard his voice, + and now, like himself, it had altered. It seemed to her to course through + the park more sweetly than the melody of birds, more imperiously than the + wind that bends the boughs. It reigned, it ruled. The whole garden heard + it, though it had been but a faint and passing breath, and the whole + garden was thrilled with the joyousness it brought. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speak to me,’ implored Albine. ‘You have never spoken to me like that. + When you were upstairs in your room, when you were not dumb, you talked + the silly prattle of a child. How is it I no longer know your voice? Just + now I thought it had come down from the trees, that it reached me from + every part of the garden, that it was one of those deep sighs that used to + worry me at night before you came. Listen, everything is keeping silence + to hear you speak again.’ + </p> + <p> + But still he failed to recognise her presence. Tenderer grew her tones. + ‘No, don’t speak if it tires you. Sit down beside me, and we will remain + here on the grass till the sun wanes. And look, I have found two + strawberries. Such trouble I had too! The birds eat up everything. One’s + for you, both if you like; or we can halve them, and taste each of them. + You’ll thank me, and then I shall hear you.’ + </p> + <p> + But he would not sit down, he refused the strawberries, which Albine + pettishly threw away. She did not open her lips again. She would rather + have seen him ill, as in those earlier days when she had given him her + hand for a pillow, and had felt him coming back to life beneath the + cooling breath she blew upon his face. She cursed the returning health + which now made him stand in the light like a young unheeding god. Would he + be ever thus then, with never a glance for her? Would he never be further + healed, and at last see her and love her? And she dreamed of once again + being his healer, of accomplishing by the sole power of her little hands + the cure of the second childhood in which he remained. She could clearly + see that there was no spark in the depths of his grey eyes, that his was + but a pallid beauty like that of the statues which had fallen among the + nettles of the flower-garden. She rose and clasped him, breathing on his + neck to rouse him. But that morning Serge never even felt the breath that + lifted his silky beard. The sun got low, it was time to go indoors. On + reaching his room, Albine burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + From that morning forward the invalid took a short walk in the garden + every day. He went past the mulberry tree, as far as the edge of the + terrace, where a wide flight of broken steps descended to the flowery + parterre. He grew accustomed to the open air, each bath of sunlight + brought him fresh vigour. A young chestnut tree, which had sprung from + some fallen nut between two stones of the balustrade, burst the resin of + its buds, and unfolded its leafy fans with far less vigour than he + progressed. One day, indeed, he even attempted to descend the steps, but + in this his strength failed him, and he sat down among the dane-wort which + had grown up between the cracks in the stone flags. Below, to the left, he + could see a small wood of roses. It was thither that he dreamt of going. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a little longer,’ said Albine. ‘The scent of the roses is too strong + for you yet. I have never been able to sit long under the rose-trees + without feeling exhausted, light-headed, with a longing to cry. Don’t be + afraid, I will some day lead you to the rose-trees, and I shall surely + weep among them, for you make me very sad.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + One morning she at last succeeded in helping him to the foot of the steps, + trampling down the grass before him with her feet, and clearing a way for + him through the briars, whose supple arms barred the last few yards. Then + they slowly entered the wood of roses. It was indeed a very wood, with + thickets of tall standard roses throwing out leafy clumps as big as trees, + and enormous rose bushes impenetrable as copses of young oaks. Here, + formerly, there had been a most marvellous collection of plants. But since + the flower garden had been left in abandonment, everything had run wild, + and a virgin forest had arisen, a forest of roses over-running the paths, + crowded with wild offshoots, so mingled, so blended, that roses of every + scent and hue seemed to blossom on the same stem. Creeping roses formed + mossy carpets on the ground, while climbing roses clung to others like + greedy ivy plants, and ascended in spindles of verdure, letting a shower + of their loosened petals fall at the lightest breeze. Natural paths + coursed through the wood—narrow footways, broad avenues, enchanting + covered walks in which one strolled in the shade and scent. These led to + glades and clearings, under bowers of small red roses, and between walls + hung with tiny yellow ones. Some sunny nooks gleamed like green silken + stuff embroidered with bright patterns; other shadier corners offered the + seclusion of alcoves and an aroma of love, the balmy warmth, as it were, + of a posy languishing on a woman’s bosom. The rose bushes had whispering + voices too. And the rose bushes were full of songbirds’ nests. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must take care not to lose ourselves,’ said Albine, as she entered the + wood. ‘I did lose myself once, and the sun had set before I was able to + free myself from the rose bushes which caught me by the skirt at every + step.’ + </p> + <p> + They had barely walked a few minutes, however, before Serge, worn out with + fatigue, wished to sit down. He stretched himself upon the ground, and + fell into deep slumber. Albine sat musing by his side. They were on the + edge of a glade, near a narrow path which stretched away through the wood, + streaked with flashes of sunlight, and, through a small round blue gap at + its far end, revealed the sky. Other little paths led from the clearing + into leafy recesses. The glade was formed of tall rose bushes rising one + above the other with such a wealth of branches, such a tangle of thorny + shoots, that big patches of foliage were caught aloft, and hung there + tent-like, stretching out from bush to bush. Through the tiny apertures in + the patches of leaves, which were suggestive of fine lace, the light + filtered like impalpable sunny dust. And from the vaulted roof hung stray + branches, chandeliers, as it were, thick clusters suspended from green + thread-like stems, armfuls of flowers that reached to the ground, athwart + some rent in the leafy ceiling, which trailed around like a tattered + curtain. + </p> + <p> + Albine meanwhile was gazing at Serge asleep. She had never seen him so + utterly prostrated in body as now, his hands lying open on the turf, his + face deathly. So dead indeed he was to her that she thought she could kiss + his face without his even feeling it. And sadly, absently, she busied her + hands with shredding all the roses within her reach. Above her head + drooped an enormous cluster which brushed against her hair, set roses on + her twisted locks, her ears, her neck, and even threw a mantle of the + fragrant flowers across her shoulders. Higher up, under her fingers, other + roses rained down with large and tender petals exquisitely formed, which + in hue suggested the faintly flushing purity of a maiden’s bosom. Like a + living snowfall these roses already hid her feet in the grass. And they + climbed her knees, covered her skirt, and smothered her to her waist; + while three stray petals, which had fluttered on to her bodice, just above + her bosom, there looked like three glimpses of her bewitching skin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! the lazy fellow!’ she murmured, feeling bored and picking up two + handfuls of roses, which she flung in Serge’s face to wake him. + </p> + <p> + He did not stir, however, but still lay there with the roses on his eyes + and mouth. This made Albine laugh. She stooped down, and with her whole + heart kissed both his eyes and his mouth, blowing as she kissed to drive + the rose petals away; but they remained upon his lips, and she broke into + still louder laughter, intensely amused at this flowery caressing. + </p> + <p> + Serge slowly raised himself. He gazed at her with amazement, as if + startled at finding her there. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are you? where do you come from? what are you doing here beside me?’ + he asked her. And still she smiled, transported with delight at marking + this awakening of his senses. Then he seemed to remember something, and + continued with a gesture of happy confidence: + </p> + <p> + ‘I know, you are my love, flesh of my flesh, you are waiting for me that + we may be one for ever. I was dreaming of you. You were in my breast, and + I gave you my blood, my muscles, my bones. I felt no pain. You took half + my heart so tenderly that I experienced keen inward delight at thus + dividing myself. I sought all that was best and most beautiful within me + to give it to you. You might have carried off everything, and still I + should have thanked you. And I woke when you went out of me. You left + through my eyes and mouth; ay, I felt it. You were all warm, all fragrant, + so sweet that it was the thrill from you that has made me awake.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine listened to his words with ecstasy. At last he saw her; at last his + birth was accomplished, his cure begun. With outstretched hands she begged + him to go on. + </p> + <p> + ‘How have I managed to live without you?’ he murmured. ‘No, I did not + live, I was like a slumbering animal. And now you are mine! and you are no + one but myself! Listen, you must never leave me; for you are my very + breath, and in leaving me you would rob me of my life. We will remain + within ourselves. You will be mine even as I shall be yours. Should I ever + forsake you, may I be accursed, may my body wither like a useless and + noxious weed!’ + </p> + <p> + He caught hold of her hands, and exclaimed in a voice quivering with + admiration: ‘How beautiful you are!’ + </p> + <p> + In the falling dust of sunshine Albine’s skin looked milky white, scarce + gilded here and there by the sunny sheen. The shower of roses around and + on her steeped her in pinkness. + </p> + <p> + Her fair hair, loosely held together by her comb, decked her head as with + a setting planet whose last bright sparks shone upon the nape of her neck. + She wore a white gown; her arms, her throat, her stainless skin bloomed + unabashed as a flower, musky with a goodly fragrance. Her figure was + slender, not too tall, but supple as a snake’s, with softly rounded, + voluptuously expanding outlines, in which the freshness of childhood + mingled with womanhood’s nascent charms. Her oval face, with its narrow + brow and rather full mouth, beamed with the tender living light of her + blue eyes. And yet she was grave, too, her cheeks unruffled, her chin + plump—as naturally lovely as are the trees. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how I love you!’ said Serge, drawing her to himself. + </p> + <p> + They were wholly one another’s now, clasped in each other’s arms! They did + not kiss, but held each other round the waist, cheek to cheek, united, + dumb, delighted with their oneness. Around them bloomed the roses with a + mad, amorous blossoming, full of crimson and rosy and white laughter. The + living, opening flowers seemed to bare their very bosoms. Yellow roses + were there showing the golden skin of barbarian maidens: straw-coloured + roses, lemon-coloured roses, sun-coloured roses—every shade of the + necks which are ambered by glowing skies. Then there was skin of softer + hue: among the tea roses, bewitchingly moist and cool, one caught glimpses + of modest, bashful charms, with skin as fine as silk tinged faintly with a + blue network of veins. Farther on all the smiling life of the rose + expanded: there was the blush white rose, barely tinged with a dash of + carmine, snowy as the foot of a maid dabbling in a spring; there was the + silvery pink, more subdued than even the glow with which a youthful arm + irradiates a wide sleeve; there was the clear, fresh rose, in which blood + seemed to gleam under satin as in the bare shoulders of a woman bathed in + light; and there was the bright pink rose with its buds like the nipples + of virgin bosoms, and its opening flowers that suggested parted lips, + exhaling warm and perfumed breath. And the climbing roses, the tall + cluster roses with their showers of white flowers, clothed all these + others with the lacework of their bunches, the innocence of their flimsy + muslin; while, here and there, roses dark as the lees of wine, + sanguineous, almost black, showed amidst the bridal purity like passion’s + wounds. Verily, it was like a bridal—the bridal of the fragrant + wood, the virginity of May led to the fertility of July and August; the + first unknowing kiss culled like a nosegay on the wedding morn. Even in + the grass, moss roses, clad in close-fitting garments of green wool, + seemed to be awaiting the advent of love. Flowers rambled all along the + sun-streaked path, faces peeped out everywhere to court the passing + breezes. Bright were the smiles under the spreading tent of the glade. Not + a flower that bloomed the same: the roses differed in the fashion of their + wooing. Some, shy and blushing, would show but a glimpse of bud, while + others, panting and wide open, seemed consumed with infatuation for their + persons. There were pert, gay little things that filed off, cockade in + cap; there were huge ones, bursting with sensuous charms, like portly, + fattened-up sultanas; there were impudent hussies, too, in coquettish + disarray, on whose petals the white traces of the powder-puff could be + espied; there were virtuous maids who had donned low-necked garb like + demure <i>bourgeoises</i>; and aristocratic ladies, graceful and original, + who contrived attractive deshabilles. And the cup-like roses offered their + perfume as in precious crystal; the drooping, urn-shaped roses let it drip + drop by drop; the round, cabbage-like roses exhaled it with the even + breath of slumbering flowers; while the budding roses tightly locked their + petals and only sent forth as yet the faint sigh of maidenhood. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you, I love you,’ softly repeated Serge. + </p> + <p> + Albine, too, was a large rose, a pallid rose that had opened since the + morning. Her feet were white, her arms were rosy pink, her neck was fair + of skin, her throat bewitchingly veined, pale and exquisite. She was + fragrant, she proffered lips which offered as in a coral cup a perfume + that was yet faint and cool. Serge inhaled that perfume, and pressed her + to his breast. Albine laughed. + </p> + <p> + The ring of that laugh, which sounded like a bird’s rhythmic notes, + enraptured Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, that lovely song is yours?’ he said. ‘It is the sweetest I ever + heard. You are indeed my joy.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she laughed yet more sonorously, pouring forth rippling scales of + high-pitched, flute-like notes that melted into deeper ones. It was an + endless laugh, a long-drawn cooing, then a burst of triumphant music + celebrating the delight of awakening love. And everything—the roses, + the fragrant wood, the whole of the Paradou—laughed in that laugh of + woman just born to beauty and to love. Till now the vast garden had lacked + one charm—a winning voice which should prove the living mirth of the + trees, the streams, and the sunlight. Now the vast garden was endowed with + that charm of laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘How old are you?’ asked Albine, when her song had ended in a faint + expiring note. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nearly twenty-six,’ Serge answered. + </p> + <p> + She was amazed. What! he was twenty-six! He, too, was astonished at having + made that answer so glibly, for it seemed to him that he had not yet lived + a day—an hour. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how old are you?’ he asked in his turn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I am sixteen.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she broke into laughter again, quivering from head to foot, repeating + and singing her age. She laughed at her sixteen years with a fine-drawn + laugh that flowed on with rhythmic trilling like a streamlet. Serge + scanned her closely, amazed at the laughing life that transfigured her + face. He scarcely knew her now with those dimples in her cheeks, those + bow-shaped lips between which peeped the rosy moistness of her mouth, and + those eyes blue like bits of sky kindling with the rising of the sun. As + she threw back her head, she sent a glow of warmth through him. + </p> + <p> + He put out his hand, and fumbled mechanically behind her neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you want?’ she asked. And suddenly remembering, she exclaimed: + ‘My comb! my comb! that’s it.’ + </p> + <p> + She gave him her comb, and let fall her heavy tresses. A cloth of gold + suddenly unrolled and clothed her to her hips. Some locks which flowed + down upon her breast gave, as it were a finishing touch to her regal + raiment. At the sight of that sudden blaze, Serge uttered an exclamation; + he kissed each lock, and burned his lips amidst that sunset-like + refulgence. + </p> + <p> + But Albine now relieved herself of her long silence, and chatted and + questioned unceasingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how wretched you made me! You no longer took any notice of me, and + day after day I found myself useless and powerless, worried out of my wits + like a good-for-nothing.... And yet the first few days I had done you + good. You saw me and spoke to me.... Do you remember when you were lying + down, and went to sleep on my shoulder, and murmured that I did you good?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No!’ said Serge, ‘no, I don’t remember it. I had never seen you before. I + have only just seen you for the first time—lovely, radiant, never to + be forgotten.’ + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands impatiently, exclaiming: ‘And my comb? You must + remember how I used to give you my comb to keep you quiet when you were a + little child? Why, you were looking for it just now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I don’t remember. Your hair is like fine silk. I have never kissed + your hair before.’ + </p> + <p> + At this, with some vexation, she recounted certain particulars of his + convalescence in the room with the blue ceiling. But he only laughed at + her, and at last closed her lips with his hand, saying with anxious + weariness: ‘No, be quiet, I don’t know; I don’t want to know any more.... + I have only just woke up, and found you there, covered with roses. That is + enough.’ + </p> + <p> + And he drew her once more towards him and held her there, dreaming aloud, + and murmuring: ‘Perhaps I have lived before. It must have been a long, + long time ago.... I loved you in a painful dream. You had the same blue + eyes, the same rather long face, the same youthful mien. But your hair was + carefully hidden under a linen cloth, and I never dared to remove that + cloth, because your locks seemed to me fearsome and would have made me + die. But to-day your hair is the very sweetness of yourself. It preserves + your scent, and when I kiss it, when I bury my face in it like this, I + drink in your very life.’ + </p> + <p> + He kept on passing the long curls through his hands, and pressing them to + his lips, as if to squeeze from them all Albine’s blood. And after an + interval of silence, he continued: ‘It’s strange, before one’s birth, one + dreams of being born.... I was buried somewhere. I was very cold. I could + hear all the life of the world outside buzzing above me. But I shut my + ears despairingly, for I was used to my gloomy den, and enjoyed some + fearful delights in it, so that I never sought to free myself from all the + earth weighing upon my chest. Where could I have been then? Who was it + gave me light?’ + </p> + <p> + He struggled to remember, while Albine now waited in fear and trembling + lest he should really do so. Smiling, she took a handful of her hair and + wound it round the young man’s neck, thus fastening him to herself. This + playful act roused him from his musings. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘I am yours, what does the rest matter? It was + you, was it not, who drew me out of the earth? I must have been under this + garden. What I heard were your steps rattling the little pebbles in the + path. You were looking for me, you brought down upon my head the songs of + the birds, the scent of the pinks, the warmth of the sun. I fancied that + you would find me at last. I waited a long time for you. But I never + expected that you would give yourself to me without your veil, with your + hair undone—the terrible hair which has become so soft.’ + </p> + <p> + He sat her on his lap, placing his face beside hers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do not let us talk any more. We are alone for ever. We love each other.’ + </p> + <p> + And thus in all innocence they lingered in each other’s arms; for a long, + long time did they remain there forgetfully. The sun rose higher; and the + dust of light fell hotter from the lofty boughs. The yellow and white and + crimson roses were now only a ray of their delight, a sign of their smiles + to one another. They had certainly caused buds to open around them. The + roses crowned their heads and threw garlands about their waists. And the + scent of the roses became so penetrating, so strong with amorous emotion, + that it seemed to be the scent of their own breath. + </p> + <p> + At last Serge put up Albine’s hair. He raised it in handfuls with + delightful awkwardness, and stuck her comb askew in the enormous knot that + he had heaped upon her head. And as it happened she looked bewitching + thus. Then, rising from the ground, he held out his hands to her, and + supported her waist as she got up. They still smiled without speaking a + word, and slowly they went down the path. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + Albine and Serge entered the flower garden. She was watching him with + tender anxiety, fearing lest he should overtire himself; but he reassured + her with a light laugh. He felt strong enough indeed to carry her + whithersoever she listed. When he found himself once more in the full + sunlight, he drew a sigh of content. At last he lived; he was no longer a + plant subject to the terrible sufferings of winter. And how he was moved + with loving gratitude! Had it been within his power, he would have spared + Albine’s tiny feet even the roughness of the paths; he dreamed of carrying + her, clinging round his neck, like a child lulled to sleep by her mother. + He already watched over her with a guardian’s watchful care, thrusting + aside the stones and brambles, jealous lest the breeze should waft a + fleeting kiss upon those darling locks which were his alone. She on her + side nestled against his shoulder and serenely yielded to his guidance. + </p> + <p> + Thus Albine and Serge strolled on together in the sunlight for the first + time. A balmy fragrance floated in their wake, the very path on which the + sun had unrolled a golden carpet thrilled with delight under their feet. + Between the tall flowering shrubs they passed like a vision of such + wondrous charm that the distant paths seemed to entreat their presence and + hail them with a murmur of admiration, even as crowds hail long-expected + sovereigns. They formed one sole, supremely lovely being. Albine’s snowy + skin was but the whiteness of Serge’s browner skin. And slowly they passed + along clothed with sunlight—nay, they were themselves the sun—worshipped + by the low bending flowers. + </p> + <p> + A tide of emotion now stirred the Paradou to its depths. The old flower + garden escorted them—that vast field bearing a century’s + untrammelled growth, that nook of Paradise sown by the breeze with the + choicest flowers. The blissful peace of the Paradou, slumbering in the + broad sunlight, prevented the degeneration of species. It could boast of a + temperature ever equable, and a soil which every plant had long enriched + to thrive therein in the silence of its vigour. Its vegetation was mighty, + magnificent, luxuriantly untended, full of erratic growths decked with + monstrous blossoming, unknown to the spade and watering-pot of gardeners. + Nature left to herself, free to grow as she listed, in the depths of that + solitude protected by natural shelters, threw restraint aside more + heartily at each return of spring, indulged in mighty gambols, delighted + in offering herself at all seasons strange nosegays not meant for any hand + to pluck. A rabid fury seemed to impel her to overthrow whatever the + effort of man had created; she rebelliously cast a straggling multitude of + flowers over the paths, attacked the rockeries with an ever-rising tide of + moss, and knotted round the necks of marble statues the flexible cords of + creepers with which she threw them down; she shattered the stonework of + the fountains, steps, and terraces with shrubs which burst through them; + she slowly, creepingly, spread over the smallest cultivated plots, + moulding them to her fancy, and planting on them, as ensign of rebellion, + some wayside spore, some lowly weed which she transformed into a gigantic + growth of verdure. In days gone by the parterre, tended by a master + passionately fond of flowers, had displayed in its trim beds and borders a + wondrous wealth of choice blossoms. And the same plants could still be + found; but perpetuated, grown into such numberless families, and + scampering in such mad fashion throughout the whole garden, that the place + was now all helter-skelter riot to its very walls, a very den of + debauchery, where intoxicated nature had hiccups of verbena and pinks. + </p> + <p> + Though to outward seeming Albine had yielded her weaker self to the + guidance of Serge, to whose shoulder she clung, it was she who really led + him. She took him first to the grotto. Deep within a clump of poplars and + willows gaped a cavern, formed by rugged bits of rocks which had fallen + over a basin where tiny rills of water trickled between the stones. The + grotto was completely lost to sight beneath the onslaught of vegetation. + Below, row upon row of hollyhocks seemed to bar all entrance with a + trellis-work of red, yellow, mauve, and white-hued flowers, whose stems + were hidden among colossal bronze-green nettles, which calmly exuded + blistering poison. Above them was a mighty swarm of creepers which leaped + aloft in a few bounds; jasmines starred with balmy flowers; wistarias with + delicate lacelike leaves; dense ivy, dentated and resembling varnished + metal; lithe honeysuckle, laden with pale coral sprays; amorous + clematideae, reaching out arms all tufted with white aigrettes. And among + them twined yet slenderer plants, binding them more and more closely + together, weaving them into a fragrant woof. Nasturtium, bare and green of + skin, showed open mouths of ruddy gold; scarlet runners, tough as + whipcord, kindled here and there a fire of gleaming sparks; convolvuli + opened their heart-shaped leaves, and with thousands of little bells rang + a silent peal of exquisite colours; sweetpeas, like swarms of settling + butterflies, folded tawny or rosy wings, ready to be borne yet farther + away by the first breeze. It was all a wealth of leafy locks, sprinkled + with a shower of flowers, straying away in wild dishevelment, and + suggesting the head of some giantess thrown back in a spasm of passion, + with a streaming of magnificent hair, which spread into a pool of perfume. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never dared to venture into all that darkness,’ Albine whispered + to Serge. + </p> + <p> + He urged her on, carried her over the nettles; and as a great boulder + barred the way into the grotto, he held her up for a moment in his arms so + that she might be able to peer through the opening that yawned at a few + feet from the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘A marble woman,’ she whispered, ‘has fallen full length into the stream. + The water has eaten her face away.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he, too, in his turn wanted to look, and pulled himself up. A cold + breeze played upon his cheeks. In the pale light that glided through the + hole, he saw the marble woman lying amidst the reeds and the duckweed. She + was naked to the waist. She must have been drowning there for the last + hundred years. Some grief had probably flung her into that spring where + she was slowly committing suicide. The clear water which flowed over her + had worn her face into a smooth expanse of marble, a mere white surface + without a feature; but her breasts, raised out of the water by what + appeared an effort of her neck, were still perfect and lifelike, throbbing + even yet with the joys of some old delight. + </p> + <p> + ‘She isn’t dead yet,’ said Serge, getting down again. ‘One day we will + come and get her out of there.’ + </p> + <p> + But Albine shuddered and led him away. They passed out again into the + sunlight and the rank luxuriance of beds and borders. They wandered + through a field of flowers capriciously, at random. Their feet trod a + carpet of lovely dwarf plants, which had once neatly fringed the walks, + and now spread about in wild profusion. In succession they passed + ankle-deep through the spotted silk of soft rose catchflies, through the + tufted satin of feathered pinks, and the blue velvet of forget-me-nots, + studded with melancholy little eyes. Further on they forced their way + through giant mignonette, which rose to their knees like a bath of + perfume; then they turned through a patch of lilies of the valley in order + that they might spare an expanse of violets, so delicate-looking that they + feared to hurt them. But soon they found themselves surrounded on all + sides by violets, and so with wary, gentle steps they passed over their + fresh fragrance inhaling the very breath of springtide. Beyond the + violets, a mass of lobelias spread out like green wool gemmed with pale + mauve. The softly shaded stars of globularia, the blue cups of nemophila, + the yellow crosses of saponaria, the white and purple ones of sweet + rocket, wove patches of rich tapestry, stretching onward and onward, a + fabric of royal luxury, so that the young couple might enjoy the delights + of that first walk together without fatigue. But the violets ever + reappeared; real seas of violets that rolled all round them, shedding the + sweetest perfumes beneath their feet and wafting in their wake the breath + of their leaf-hidden flowerets. + </p> + <p> + Albine and Serge quite lost themselves. Thousands of loftier plants + towered up in hedges around them, enclosing narrow paths which they found + it delightful to thread. These paths twisted and turned, wandered + maze-like through dense thickets. There were ageratums with sky-blue tufts + of bloom; woodruffs with soft musky perfume; brazen-throated mimuluses, + blotched with bright vermilion; lofty phloxes, crimson and violet, + throwing up distaffs of flowers for the breezes to spin; red flax with + sprays as fine as hair; chrysanthemums like full golden moons, casting + short faint rays, white and violet and rose, around them. The young couple + surmounted all the obstacles that lay in their path and continued their + way betwixt the walls of verdure. To the right of them sprang up the slim + fraxinella, the centranthus draped with snowy blossoms, and the greyish + hounds-tongue, in each of whose tiny flowercups gleamed a dewdrop. To + their left was a long row of columbines of every variety; white ones, pale + rose ones, and some of deep violet hues, almost black, that seemed to be + in mourning, the blossoms that drooped from their lofty, branching stems + being plaited and goffered like crape. Then, as they advanced further on, + the character of the hedges changed. Giant larkspurs thrust up their + flower-rods, between the dentated foliage of which gaped the mouths of + tawny snapdragons, while the schizanthus reared its scanty leaves and + fluttering blooms, that looked like butterflies’ wings of sulphur hue + splashed with soft lake. The blue bells of campanulae swayed aloft, some + of them even over the tall asphodels, whose golden stems served as their + steeples. In one corner was a giant fennel that reminded one of a + lace-dressed lady spreading out a sunshade of sea-green satin. Then the + pair suddenly found their way blocked. It was impossible to advance any + further; a mass of flowers, a huge sheaf of plants stopped all progress. + Down below, a mass of brank-ursine formed as it were a pedestal, from the + midst of which sprang scarlet geum, rhodanthe with stiff petals, and + clarkia with great white carved crosses, that looked like the insignia of + some barbarous order. Higher up still, bloomed the rosy viscaria, the + yellow leptosiphon, the white colinsia, and the lagurus, whose dusty green + bloom contrasted with the glowing colours around it. Towering over all + these growths scarlet foxgloves and blue lupins, rising in slender + columns, formed a sort of oriental rotunda gleaming vividly with crimson + and azure; while at the very summit, like a surmounting dome of dusky + copper, were the ruddy leaves of a colossal castor-bean. + </p> + <p> + As Serge reached out his hands to try to force a passage, Albine stopped + him and begged him not to injure the flowers. ‘You will break the stems + and crush the leaves,’ she said. ‘Ever since I have been here, I have + always taken care to hurt none of them. Come, and I will show you the + pansies.’ + </p> + <p> + She made him turn and led him from the narrow paths to the centre of the + parterre, where, once upon a time, great basins had been hollowed out. But + these had now fallen into ruin, and were nothing but gigantic <i>jardinières</i>, + fringed with stained and cracked marble. In one of the largest of them, + the wind had sown a wonderful basketful of pansies. The velvety blooms + seemed almost like living faces, with bands of violet hair, yellow eyes, + paler tinted mouths, and chins of a delicate flesh colour. + </p> + <p> + When I was younger they used to make me quite afraid,’ murmured Albine. + ‘Look at them. Wouldn’t you think that they were thousands of little faces + looking up at you from the ground? And they turn, too, all in the same + direction. They might be a lot of buried dolls thrusting their heads out + of the ground.’ + </p> + <p> + She led him still further on. They went the round of all the other basins. + In the next one a number of amaranthuses had sprung up, raising monstrous + crests which Albine had always shrunk from touching, such was their + resemblance to big bleeding caterpillars. Balsams of all colours, now + straw-coloured, now the hue of peach-blossom, now blush-white, now grey + like flax, filled another basin where their seed pods split with little + snaps. Then in the midst of a ruined fountain, there flourished a colony + of splendid carnations. White ones hung over the moss-covered rims, and + flaked ones thrust a bright medley of blossom between the chinks of the + marble; while from the mouth of the lion, whence formerly the water-jets + had spurted, a huge crimson clove now shot out so vigorously that the + decrepit beast seemed to be spouting blood. Near by, the principal piece + of ornamental water, a lake, on whose surface swans had glided, had now + become a thicket of lilacs, beneath whose shade stocks and verbenas and + day-lilies screened their delicate tints, and dozed away, all redolent of + perfume. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we haven’t seen half the flowers yet,’ said Albine, proudly. ‘Over + yonder there are such huge ones that I can quite bury myself amongst them + like a partridge in a corn-field.’ + </p> + <p> + They went thither. They tripped down some broad steps, from whose fallen + urns still flickered the violet fires of the iris. All down the steps + streamed gilliflowers, like liquid gold. The sides were flanked with + thistles, that shot up like candelabra, of green bronze, twisted and + curved into the semblance of birds’ heads, with all the fantastic elegance + of Chinese incense-burners. Between the broken balustrades drooped tresses + of stonecrop, light greenish locks, spotted as with mouldiness. Then at + the foot of the steps another parterre spread out, dotted over with + box-trees that were vigorous as oaks; box-trees which had once been + carefully pruned and clipped into balls and pyramids and octagonal + columns, but which were now revelling in unrestrained freedom of + untidiness, breaking out into ragged masses of greenery, through which + blue patches of sky were visible. + </p> + <p> + And Albine led Serge straight on to a spot that seemed to be the graveyard + of the flower-garden. There the scabious mourned, and processions of + poppies stretched out in line, with deathly odour, unfolding heavy blooms + of feverish brilliance. Sad anemones clustered in weary throngs, pallid as + if infected by some epidemic. Thick-set daturas spread out purplish horns, + from which insects, weary of life, sucked fatal poison. Marigolds buried + with choking foliage their writhing starry flowers, that already reeked of + putrefaction. And there were other melancholy flowers also: fleshy + ranunculi with rusty tints, hyacinths and tuberoses that exhaled asphyxia + and died from their own perfume. But the cinerarias were most conspicuous, + crowding thickly in half-mourning robes of violet and white. In the middle + of this gloomy spot a mutilated marble Cupid still remained standing, + smiling beneath the lichens which overspread his youthful nakedness, while + the arm with which he had once held his bow lay low amongst the nettles. + </p> + <p> + Then Albine and Serge passed on through a rank growth of peonies, reaching + to their waists. The white flowers fell to pieces as they passed, with a + rain of snowy petals which was as refreshing to their hands as the heavy + drops of a thunder shower. And the red ones grinned with apoplectical + faces which perturbed them. Next they passed through a field of fuchsias, + forming dense, vigorous shrubs that delighted them with their countless + bells. Then they went on through fields of purple veronicas and others of + geraniums, blazing with all the fiery tints of a brasier, which the wind + seemed to be ever fanning into fresh heat. And they forced their way + through a jungle of gladioli, tall as reeds, which threw up spikes of + flowers that gleamed in the full daylight with all the brilliance of + burning torches. They lost themselves too in a forest of sunflowers, with + stalks as thick as Albine’s wrist, a forest darkened by rough leaves large + enough to form an infant’s bed, and peopled with giant starry faces that + shone like so many suns. And thence they passed into another forest, a + forest of rhododendrons so teeming with blossom that the branches and + leaves were completely hidden, and nothing but huge nosegays, masses of + soft calyces, could be seen as far as the eye could reach. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along; we have not got to the end yet,’ cried Albine. ‘Let us push + on.’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge stopped. They were now in the midst of an old ruined colonnade. + Some of the columns offered inviting seats as they lay prostrate amongst + primroses and periwinkles. Further away, among the columns that still + remained upright, other flowers were growing in profusion. There were + expanses of tulips showing brilliant streaks like painted china; expanses + of calceolarias dotted with crimson and gold; expanses of zinnias like + great daisies; expanses of petunias with petals like soft cambric through + which rosy flesh tints gleamed; and other fields, with flowers they could + not recognise spreading in carpets beneath the sun, in a motley brilliance + that was softened by the green of their leaves. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall never be able to see it all,’ said Serge, smiling and waving his + hand. ‘It would be very nice to sit down here, amongst all this perfume.’ + </p> + <p> + Near them there was a large patch of heliotropes, whose vanilla-like + breath permeated the air with velvety softness. They sat down upon one of + the fallen columns, in the midst of a cluster of magnificent lilies which + had shot up there. They had been walking for more than an hour. They had + wandered on through the flowers from the roses to the lilies. These + offered them a calm, quiet haven after their lovers’ ramble amid the + perfumed solicitations of luscious honeysuckle, musky violets, verbenas + that breathed out the warm scent of kisses, and tuberoses that panted with + voluptuous passion. The lilies, with their tall slim stems, shot up round + them like a white pavilion and sheltered them with snowy cups, gleaming + only with the gold of their slender pistils. And there they rested, like + betrothed children in a tower of purity; an impregnable ivory tower, where + all their love was yet perfect innocence. + </p> + <p> + Albine and Serge lingered amongst the lilies till evening. They felt so + happy there, and seemed to break out into a new life. Serge felt the last + trace of fever leave his hands, while Albine grew quite white, with a + milky whiteness untinted by any rosy hue. They were unconscious that their + arms and necks and shoulders were bare, and their straying unconfined hair + in nowise troubled them. They laughed merrily one at the other, with frank + open laughter. The expression of their eyes retained the limpid calmness + of clear spring water. When they quitted the lilies, their feelings were + but those of children ten years old; it seemed to them that they had just + met each other in that garden so that they might be friends for ever and + amuse themselves with perpetual play. And as they returned through the + parterre, the very flowers bore themselves discreetly, as though they were + glad to see their childishness, and would do nothing that might corrupt + them. The forests of peonies, the masses of carnations, the carpets of + forget-me-nots, the curtains of clematis now steeped in the atmosphere of + evening, slumbering in childlike purity akin to their own, no longer + spread suggestions of voluptuousness around them. The pansies looked up at + them with their little candid faces, like playfellows; and the languid + mignonette, as Albine’s white skirt brushed by it, seemed full of + compassion, and held its breath lest it should fan their love prematurely + into life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + At dawn the next day it was Serge who called Albine. She slept in a room + on the upper floor. He looked up at her window and saw her throw open the + shutters just as she had sprung out of bed. They laughed merrily as their + eyes met. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must not go out to-day,’ said Albine, when she came down. ‘We must + stay indoors and rest. To-morrow I will take you a long, long way off, to + a spot where we can have a very jolly time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But sha’n’t we grow tired of stopping here?’ muttered Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, dear no! I will tell you stories.’ + </p> + <p> + They passed a delightful day. The windows were thrown wide open, and all + the beauty of the Paradou came in and rejoiced with them in the room. + Serge now really took possession of that delightful room, where he + imagined he had been born. He insisted upon seeing everything, and upon + having everything explained to him. The plaster Cupids who sported round + the alcove amused him so much that he mounted upon a chair to tie Albine’s + sash round the neck of the smallest of them, a little bit of a man who was + turning somersaults with his head downward. Albine clapped her hands, and + said that he looked like a cockchafer fastened by a string. Then, as + though seized by an access of pity, she said, ‘No, no, unfasten him. It + prevents him from flying.’ + </p> + <p> + But it was the Cupids painted over the doors that more particularly + attracted Serge’s attention. He fidgeted at not being able to make out + what they were playing at, for the paintings had grown very dim. Helped by + Albine, he dragged a table to the wall, and when they both had climbed + upon it, Albine began to explain things to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look, now, those are throwing flowers. Under the flowers you can only see + some bare legs. It seems to me that when first I came here I could make + out a lady reposing there. But she has been gone for a long time now.’ + </p> + <p> + They examined all the panels in turn; but they had faded to such a degree + that little more could be distinguished than the knees and elbows of + infants. The details which had doubtless delighted the eyes of those whose + old-time passion seemed to linger round the alcove, had so completely + disappeared under the influence of the fresh air, that the room, like the + park, seemed restored to pristine virginity beneath the serene glory of + the sun. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! they are only some little boys playing,’ said Serge, as he descended + from the table. ‘Do you know how to play at “hot cockles”?’ + </p> + <p> + There was no game that Albine did not know how to play at. But, for ‘hot + cockles,’ at least three players are necessary, and that made them laugh. + Serge protested, however, that they got on too well together ever to + desire a third there, and they vowed that they would always remain by + themselves. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are quite alone here; one cannot hear a sound,’ said the young man, + lolling on the couch. ‘And all the furniture has such a pleasant old-time + smell. The place is as snug as a nest. We ought to be very happy in this + room.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl shook her head gravely. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I had been at all timid,’ she murmured, ‘I should have been very much + frightened at first.... That is one of the stories I want to tell you. The + people in the neighbourhood told it to me. Perhaps it isn’t true, but it + will amuse us, at any rate.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she came and sat down by Serge’s side. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is years and years since it all happened. The Paradou belonged to a + rich lord, who came and shut himself up in it with a very beautiful lady. + The gates of the mansion were kept so tightly closed, and the garden walls + were built so very high, that no one ever caught sight even of the lady’s + skirts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! I know,’ Serge interrupted; ‘the lady was never seen again.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as Albine looked at him in surprise, somewhat annoyed to find that + he knew her story already, he added in a low voice, apparently a little + astonished himself: ‘You told me the story before, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + She declared that she had never done so; but all at once she seemed to + change her mind, and allowed herself to be convinced. However, that did + not prevent her from finishing her tale in these words: ‘When the lord + went away his hair was quite white. He had all the gates barricaded up, so + that no one might get inside and disturb the lady. It was in this room + that she died.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In this room!’ cried Serge. ‘You never told me that! Are you quite sure + that it was really in this room she died?’ + </p> + <p> + Albine seemed put out. She repeated to him what every one in the + neighbourhood knew. The lord had built the pavilion for the reception of + this unknown lady, who looked like a princess. The servants employed at + the mansion afterwards declared that he spent all his days and nights + there. Often, too, they saw him in one of the walks, guiding the tiny feet + of the mysterious lady towards the densest coppices. But for all the world + they would never have ventured to spy upon the pair, who sometimes scoured + the park for weeks together. + </p> + <p> + ‘And it was here she died?’ repeated Serge, who felt touched with sorrow. + ‘And you have taken her room; you use her furniture, and you sleep in her + bed.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! well, you know, I am not timid. Besides, it is so long since it all + happened. You said what a delightful room it was.’ + </p> + <p> + Then they both dropped into silence, and glanced, for a moment, towards + the alcove, the lofty ceiling, and the corners, steeped in grey gloom. The + faded furniture seemed to speak of long past love. A gentle sigh, as of + resignation, passed through the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, indeed,’ murmured Serge, ‘one could not feel afraid here. It is too + peaceful.’ + </p> + <p> + But Albine came closer to him and said: ‘There is something else that only + a few people know, and that is that the lord and the lady discovered in + the garden a certain spot where perfect happiness was to be found, and + where they afterwards spent all their time. I have been told that by a + very good authority. It is a cool, shady spot, hidden away in the midst of + an impenetrable jungle, and it is so marvellously beautiful that anyone + who reaches it forgets all else in the world. The poor lady must have been + buried there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it anywhere about the parterre?’ asked Serge curiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! I cannot tell, I cannot tell,’ said the young girl with an expression + of discouragement. ‘I know nothing about it. I have searched everywhere, + but I have never been able to find the least sign of that lovely clearing. + It is not amongst the roses, nor the lilies, nor the violets.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it is hidden somewhere away amongst those mournful-looking + flowers, where you showed me the figure of a boy standing with his arm + broken off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, then, it is in that grotto, near that clear stream, where the + great marble woman, without a face, is lying.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine seemed to reflect for a moment. Then, as though speaking to + herself, she went on: ‘As soon as ever I came here, I began to hunt for + it. I spent whole days in the Paradou, and ferreted about in all the + out-of-the-way green corners, to have the pleasure of sitting for an hour + in that happy spot. What mornings have I not wasted in groping under the + brambles and peeping into the most distant nooks of the park! Oh! I should + have known it at once, that enchanting retreat, with the mighty tree that + must shelter it with a canopy of foliage, with its carpet of soft silky + turf, and its walls of tangled greenery, which the very birds themselves + cannot penetrate. + </p> + <p> + She raised her voice, and threw one of her arms round Serge’s neck, as she + continued: ‘Tell me, now; shall we search for it together? We shall surely + find it. You, who are strong, will push aside the heavy branches, while I + crawl underneath and search the brakes. When I grow weary, you can carry + me; you can help me to cross the streams; and if we happen to lose + ourselves, you can climb the trees and try to discover our way again. Ah! + and how delightful it will be for us to sit, side by side, beneath the + green canopy in the centre of the clearing! I have been told that in one + minute one may there live the whole of life. Tell me, my dear Serge, shall + we set off to-morrow and scour the park, from bush to bush, until we have + found what we want?’ + </p> + <p> + Serge shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. ‘What would be the use?’ he + said. ‘Is it not pleasant in the parterre? Don’t you think we ought to + remain among the flowers, instead of seeking a greater happiness that lies + so far away?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is there that the dead lady lies buried,’ murmured Albine, falling + back into her reverie. ‘It was the joy of being there that killed her. The + tree casts a shade, whose charm is deathly.... I would willingly die so. + We would clasp one another there, and we would die, and none would ever + find us again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t talk like that,’ interrupted Serge. ‘You make me feel so unhappy. I + would rather that we should live in the bright sunlight, far away from + that fatal shade. Your words distress me, as though they urged us to some + irreparable misfortune. It must be forbidden to sit beneath a tree whose + shade can thus affect one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ Albine gravely declared, ‘it is forbidden. All the folks of the + countryside have told me that it is forbidden.’ + </p> + <p> + Then silence fell. Serge rose from the couch where he had been lolling, + and laughed, and pretended that he did not care about stories. The sun was + setting, however, before Albine would consent to go into the garden for + even a few minutes. She led Serge to the left, along the enclosing wall, + to a spot strewn with fragments of stone, and woodwork, and ironwork, + bristling too with briars and brambles. It was the site of the old + mansion, still black with traces of the fire which had destroyed the + building. Underneath the briars lay rotting timbers and fire-split + masonry. The spot was like a little ravined, hillocky wilderness of + sterile rocks, draped with rude vegetation, clinging creepers that twined + and twisted through every crevice like green serpents. The young folks + amused themselves by wandering across this chaos, groping about in the + holes, turning over the debris, trying to reconstruct something of the + past out of the ruins before them. They did not confess their curiosity as + they chased one another through the midst of fallen floorings and + overturned partitions; but they were indeed, all the time, secretly + pondering over the legend of those ruins, and of that lady, lovelier than + day, whose silken skirt had rustled down those steps, where now lizards + alone were idly crawling. + </p> + <p> + Serge ended by climbing the highest of the ruinous masses; and, looking + round at the park which unfolded its vast expanse of greenery, he sought + the grey form of the pavilion through the trees. Albine was standing + silent by his side, serious once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘The pavilion is yonder, to the right,’ she said at last, without waiting + for Serge to ask her. ‘It is the only one of the buildings that is left. + You can see it quite plainly at the end of that grove of lime-trees.’ + </p> + <p> + They fell into silence again; and then Albine, as though pursuing aloud + the reflections which were passing through their minds, exclaimed: ‘When + he went to see her, he must have gone down yonder path, then past those + big chestnut trees, and then under the limes. It wouldn’t take him a + quarter of an hour.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge made no reply. But as they went home, they took the path which + Albine had pointed out, past the chestnuts and under the limes. It was a + path that love had consecrated. And as they walked over the grass, they + seemed to be seeking footmarks, or a fallen knot of ribbon, or a whiff of + ancient perfume—something that would clearly satisfy them that they + were really travelling along the path that led to the joy of union. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait out here,’ said Albine, when they once more stood before the + pavilion; ‘don’t come up for three minutes.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she ran off merrily, and shut herself up in the room with the blue + ceiling. And when she had let Serge knock at the door twice, she softly + set it ajar, and received him with an old-fashioned courtesy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morrow, my dear lord,’ she said as she embraced him. + </p> + <p> + This amused them extremely. They played at being lovers with childish + glee. In stammering accents they would have revived the passion which had + once throbbed and died there. But it was like a first effort at learning a + lesson. They knew not how to kiss each other’s lips, but sought each + other’s cheeks, and ended by dancing around each other, with shrieks of + laughter, from ignorance of any other way of showing the pleasure they + experienced from their mutual love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Albine was anxious to start at sunrise upon the grand + expedition which she had planned the night before. She tapped her feet + gleefully on the ground, and declared that they would not come back before + nightfall. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you going to take me?’ asked Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will see, you will see.’ + </p> + <p> + But he caught her by the hands and looked her very earnestly in the face. + ‘You must not be foolish, you know. I won’t have you hunting for that + glade of yours, or for the tree, or for the grassy couch where one droops + and dies. You know that it is forbidden.’ + </p> + <p> + She blushed slightly, protesting that she had no such idea in her head. + Then she added: ‘But if we should come across them, just by chance, you + know, and without really seeking them, you wouldn’t mind sitting down, + would you? Else you must love me very little.’ + </p> + <p> + They set off, going straight through the parterre without stopping to + watch the awakening of the flowers which were all dripping after their + dewy bath. The morning had a rosy hue, the smile of a beautiful child, + just opening its eyes on its snowy pillow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you taking me?’ repeated Serge. + </p> + <p> + But Albine only laughed and would not answer. Then, on reaching the stream + which ran through the garden at the end of the flower-beds, she halted in + great distress. The water was swollen with the late rains. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall never be able to get across,’ she murmured. ‘I can generally + manage it by taking off my shoes and stockings, but, to-day, the water + would reach to our waists.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked for a moment or two along the bank to find some fordable + point; but the girl said it was hopeless; she knew the stream quite well. + Once there had been a bridge across, but it had fallen in, and had strewn + the river bed with great blocks of stone, between which the water rushed + along in foaming eddies. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get on to my back, then,’ said Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; I’d rather not. If you were to slip, we should both of us get a + famous wetting. You don’t know how treacherous those stones are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Get on to my back,’ repeated Serge. + </p> + <p> + She was tempted to do so. She stepped back for a spring, and then jumped + up, like a boy; but she felt that Serge was tottering; and crying out that + she was not safely seated, she got down again. However, after two more + attempts, she managed to settle herself securely on Serge’s back. + </p> + <p> + ‘When you are quite ready,’ said the young man, laughing, ‘we will start. + Now, hold on tightly. We are off.’ + </p> + <p> + And, with three light strides, he crossed the stream, scarcely wetting + even his toes. Midway, however, Albine thought that he was slipping. She + broke out into a little scream, and hugged him tightly round his neck. But + he sprang forward, and carried her at a gallop over the fine sand on the + other side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gee up!’ she cried, quite calm again, and delighted with this novel game. + </p> + <p> + He ran along with her for some distance, she clucking her tongue, and + guiding him to right or left by some locks of his hair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here—here we are,’ she said at last, tapping him gently on the + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Then she jumped to the ground; while he, hot and perspiring, leaned + against a tree to draw breath. Albine thereupon began to scold him, and + threatened that she would not nurse him if he made himself ill again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stuff!’ he cried, ‘it’s done me good. When I have grown quite strong + again, I will carry you about all day. But where are you taking me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here,’ she said, as she seated herself beneath a huge pear-tree. + </p> + <p> + They were in the old orchard of the park. A hawthorn hedge, a real wall of + greenery with here and there a gap, separated it from everything else. + There was quite a forest of fruit trees, which no pruning knife had + touched for a century past. Some of the trees had been strangely warped + and twisted by the storms which had raged over them; while others, bossed + all over with huge knots and full of deep holes, seemed only to hold on to + the soil with their bark. The high branches, bent each year by weight of + fruit, stretched out like big rackets; and each tree helped to keep its + fellows erect. The trunks were like twisted pillars supporting a roof of + greenery; and sometimes narrow cloisters, sometimes light halls were + formed, while now and again the verdure swept almost to the ground and + left scarcely room to pass. Round each colossus a crowd of wild and + self-sown saplings had grown up, thicket-like with the entanglement of + their young shoots. In the greenish light which filtered like tinted water + through the foliage, in the deep silence of the mossy soil, one only heard + the dull thud of the fruit as it was culled by the wind. + </p> + <p> + And there were patriarchal apricot trees that bore their great age quite + bravely. Though decayed on one side, where they showed a perfect + scaffolding of dead wood, they were so youthful, so full of life, that, on + the other, young shoots were ever bursting through their rough bark. There + were cherry trees, that formed complete towns with houses of several + stories, that threw out staircases and floors of branches, big enough for + half a score of families. Then there were the apple trees, with their + limbs twisted like old cripples, with bark gnarled and knotted, and all + stained with lichen-growth. There were also smooth pear trees, that shot + up mast-like with long slender spars. And there were rosy-blossomed + peach-trees that won a place amid this teeming growth as pretty maids do + amidst a human crowd by dint of bright smiles and gentle persistence. Some + had been formerly trained as espaliers, but they had broken down the low + walls which had once supported them, and now spread abroad in wild + confusion, freed from the trammels of trellis work, broken fragments of + which still adhered to some of their branches. They grew just as they + listed, and resembled well-bred trees, once neat and prim, which, having + gone astray, now flaunted but vestiges of whilom respectability. And from + tree to tree, and from bough to bough, vine branches hung in confusion. + They rose like wild laughter, twined for an instant round some lofty knot, + then started off again with yet more sonorous mirth, splotching all the + foliage with the merry ebriety of their tendrils. Their pale sun-gilt + green set a glow of bacchanalianism about the weather-worn heads of the + old orchard giants. + </p> + <p> + Then towards the left were trees less thickly planted. Thin-foliaged + almonds allowed the sun’s rays to pass and ripen the pumpkins, which + looked like moons that had fallen to the earth. Near the edge of a stream + which flowed through the orchard there also grew various kinds of melons, + some rough with knotty warts, some smooth and shining, as oval as the eggs + of ostriches. At every step, too, progress was barred by currant bushes, + showing limpid bunches of fruit, rubies in one and all of which there + sparkled liquid sunlight. And hedges of raspberry canes shot up like wild + brambles, while the ground was but a carpet of strawberry plants, teeming + with ripe berries which exhaled a slight odour of vanilla. + </p> + <p> + But the enchanted corner of the orchard was still further to the left, + near a tier of rocks which there began to soar upwards. There you found + yourself in a veritable land of fire, in a natural hot-house, on which the + sun fell freely. At first, you had to make your way through huge, ungainly + fig trees, which stretched out grey branches like arms weary of lying + still, and whose villose leather-like foliage was so dense that in order + to pass one constantly had to snap off twigs that had sprouted from the + old wood. Next you passed on through groves of strawberry trees with + verdure like that of giant box-plants, and with scarlet berries which + suggested maize plants decked out with crimson ribbon. Then there came a + jungle of nettle-trees, medlars and jujube trees, which pomegranates + skirted with never-fading verdure. The fruit of the latter, big as a + child’s fist, was scarcely set as yet; and the purple blossoms, fluttering + at the ends of the branches, looked like the palpitating wings of the + humming birds, which do not even bend the shoots on which they perch. + Lastly, there was a forest of orange and lemon trees growing vigorously in + the open air. Their straight trunks stood like rows of brown columns, + while their shiny leaves showed brightly against the blue of the sky, and + cast upon the ground a network of light and shadow, figuring the palms of + some Indian fabric. Here there was shade beside which that of the European + orchard seemed colourless, insipid; the warm joy of sunlight, softened + into flying gold-dust; the glad certainty of evergreen foliage; the + penetrating perfume of blossom, and the more subdued fragrance of fruit; + all helping to fill the body with the soft languor of tropical lands. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now let us breakfast,’ cried Albine, clapping her hands. ‘It must be + at least nine o’clock, and I am very hungry.’ + </p> + <p> + She had risen from the ground. Serge confessed that he, too, would find + some food acceptable. + </p> + <p> + ‘You goose!’ she said, ‘you didn’t understand, then, that I brought you + here to breakfast. We sha’n’t die of hunger here. We can help ourselves to + all there is.’ + </p> + <p> + They went along under the trees, pushing aside the branches and making + their way to the thickest of the fruit. Albine, who went first, turned, + and in her flute-like voice asked her companion: ‘What do you like best? + Pears, apricots, cherries, or currants? I warn you that the pears are + still green; but they are very nice all the same.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge decided upon having cherries, and Albine agreed it would be as well + to start with them; but when she saw him foolishly beginning to scramble + up the first cherry tree he found, she made him go on for another ten + minutes through a frightful entanglement of branches. The cherries on this + tree, she said, were small and good for nothing; those on that were sour; + those on another would not be ripe for at least a week. She knew all the + trees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop, climb this one,’ she said at last, as she stopped at the foot of a + tree, so heavily laden with fruit that clusters of it hung down to the + ground, like strings of coral beads. + </p> + <p> + Serge settled himself comfortably between two branches and began his + breakfast. He no longer paid attention to Albine. He imagined she was in + another tree, a few yards away, when, happening to cast his eyes towards + the ground, he saw her calmly lying on her back beneath him. She had + thrown herself there, and, without troubling herself to use her hands, was + plucking with her teeth the cherries which dangled over her mouth. + </p> + <p> + When she saw she was discovered, she broke out into a peal of laughter, + and twisted about on the grass like a fish taken from the water. And + finally, crawling along on her elbows, she gradually made the circuit of + the tree, snapping up the plumpest cherries as she went along. + </p> + <p> + ‘They tickle me so,’ she cried. ‘See, there’s a beauty just fallen on my + neck. They are so deliciously fresh and juicy. They get into my ears, my + eyes, my nose, everywhere. They are much sweeter down here than up there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Serge, laughing, ‘you say that because you daren’t climb up.’ + </p> + <p> + She remained for a moment silent with indignation. ‘Daren’t!—I!—’ + she stammered. + </p> + <p> + Then, having gathered up her skirts, she tightly grasped the tree and + pulled herself up the trunk with a single effort of her strong wrists. And + afterwards she stepped lightly along the branches, scarcely using her + hands to steady herself. She had all the agile nimbleness of a squirrel, + and made her way onward, maintaining her equilibrium only by the swaying + poise of her body. When she was quite aloft at the end of a frail branch, + which shook dangerously beneath her weight, she cried; ‘Now you see + whether I daren’t climb.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come down at once,’ implored Serge, full of alarm for her. ‘I beg of you + to come down. You will be injuring yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + But she, enjoying her triumph, began to mount still higher. She crawled + along to the extreme end of a branch, grasping its leaves in her hands to + maintain her hold. + </p> + <p> + ‘The branch will break!’ cried Serge, thoroughly frightened. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it break,’ she answered, with a laugh; ‘it will save me the trouble + of getting down.’ + </p> + <p> + And the branch did break, but only slowly, with such deliberation that, as + it gradually settled towards the ground, it let Albine slip down in very + gentle fashion. She did not appear in the least degree frightened; but + gave herself a shake, and said: ‘That was really nice. It was quite like + being in a carriage.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge had jumped down from the tree to catch her in his arms. As he stood + there, quite pale from fright, she laughed at him. ‘One tumbles down from + trees every day,’ she exclaimed, ‘but there is never any harm done. Look + more cheerful, you great stupid! Stay, just wet your finger and rub it + upon my neck. I have scratched it.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge wetted his finger and touched her neck with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, I am all right again now,’ she cried, as she bounded off. ‘Let us + play at hide and seek, shall we?’ + </p> + <p> + She was the first to hide. She disappeared, and presently from the depths + of the greenery, which she alone knew, and where Serge could not possibly + find her, she called, ‘Cuckoo, cuckoo.’ But this game of hide and seek did + not put a stop to the onslaught upon the fruit trees. Breakfasting went on + in all the nooks and corners where the two big children sought each other. + Albine, while gliding beneath the branches, would stretch out her hand to + pluck a green pear or fill her skirt with apricots. Then in some of her + lurking-places she would come upon such rich discoveries as would make her + careless of the game, content to sit upon the ground and remain eating. + Once, however, she lost sound of Serge’s movements. So, in her turn, she + set about seeking him; and she was surprised, almost vexed, when she + discovered him under a plum-tree, of whose existence she herself had been + ignorant, and whose ripe fruit had a delicious musky perfume. She soundly + rated him. Did he want to eat everything himself, that he hadn’t called to + her to come? He pretended to know nothing about the trees, but he + evidently had a very keen scent to be able to find all the good things. + She was especially indignant with the poor tree itself—a stupid tree + which no one had known of, and which must have sprung up in the night on + purpose to put people out. As she stood there pouting, refusing to pluck a + single plum, it occurred to Serge to shake the tree violently. And then a + shower, a regular hail, of plums came down. Albine, standing in the midst + of the downfall, received plums on her arms, plums on her neck, plums on + the very tip of her nose. At this she could no longer restrain her + laughter; she stood in the midst of the deluge, crying ‘More! more!’ + amused as she was by the round bullet-like fruit which fell around her as + she squatted there, with hands and mouth open, and eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + It was a morning of childish play, of wild gambols in the Paradou. Albine + and Serge spent hours, scampering up and down, shouting and sporting with + each other, their thoughts still all innocence. And in what a delicious + spot they found themselves! Depths of greenery, with undiscoverable + hiding-places; paths, along whose windings it was never possible to be + serious, such greedy laughter fell from the very hedges. In this happy + orchard, there was such a playful straggling of bushes, such fresh and + appetising shade, such a wealth of old trees laden like kindly + grandfathers with sweet dainties. Even in the depths of the recesses green + with moss, beneath the broken trunks which compelled them to creep the one + behind the other, in the narrow leafy alleys, the young folks never + succumbed to the perilous reveries of silence. No trouble touched them in + that happy wood. + </p> + <p> + And when they had grown weary of the apricot-trees and the plum-trees and + the cherry-trees, they ran beneath the slender almond-trees; eating green + almonds, scarcely yet as big as peas, hunting for strawberries in the + grassy carpet, and regretting that the melons were not already ripe. + Albine finished by running as fast as she could go, pursued by Serge, who + was unable to overtake her. She rushed amongst the fig-trees, leaping over + their heavy branches, and pulling off the leaves to throw them behind her + in her companion’s face. In a few strides she had cleared the clumps of + arbutus, whose red berries she tasted on her way; and it was in the jungle + of nettle-trees, medlars, and jujube-trees that Serge lost her. At first + he thought she was hiding behind a pomegranate; but found that he had + mistaken two clustering blossoms for the rosy roundness of her wrists. + Then he scoured the plantation of orange-trees, rejoicing in their beauty + and perfume, and thinking that he must have reached the abode of the + fairies of the sun. In the midst of them he caught sight of Albine, who, + not believing him so near her, was peering inquisitively into the green + depths. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you looking for?’ he cried. ‘You know very well that is + forbidden.’ + </p> + <p> + She sprang up hastily, and slightly blushed for the first time that day. + Then sitting down by the side of Serge, she told him of the fine times + there would be when the oranges should be ripe. The wood would then be all + golden, all bright with those round stars, dotting with yellow sparks the + arching green. + </p> + <p> + When at last they really set off homeward she halted at every wild-growing + fruit tree, and filled her pockets with sour pears and bitter plums, + saying that they would be good to eat on their way. They would prove a + hundred times more enjoyable than anything they had tasted before. Serge + was obliged to swallow some of them, in spite of the grimaces he made at + each bite. And eventually they found themselves indoors again, tired out + but feeling very happy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + A week later there was another expedition to the park. They had planned to + extend their rambles beyond the orchard, striking out to the left through + the meadows watered by the four streams. They would travel several miles + over the thick grass, and they might live on fish, if they happened to + lose themselves. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will take my knife,’ said Albine, holding up a broad-bladed peasant’s + knife. + </p> + <p> + She crammed all kinds of things into her pockets, string, bread, matches, + a small bottle of wine, some rags, a comb, and some needles. Serge took a + rug, but by the time they had passed the lime-trees and reached the ruins + of the chateau, he found it such an encumbrance that he hid it beneath a + piece of fallen wall. + </p> + <p> + The sun was hotter than before, Albine had delayed their departure by her + extensive preparations. Thus in the heat of the morning they stepped along + side by side, almost quietly. They actually managed to take twenty paces + at a time without pushing one another or laughing. They began to talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never can wake up,’ began Albine. ‘I slept so soundly last night. Did + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed, very soundly,’ replied Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does it mean when you dream of a bird that talks to you?’ the girl + resumed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. What did your bird say to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I have forgotten. But it said all kinds of things, and many of them + sounded very comical. Stop, look at that big poppy over there. You sha’n’t + get it, you sha’n’t get it!’ + </p> + <p> + And then she sprang forward; but Serge, thanks to his long legs, + outstripped her and plucked the poppy, which he waved about victoriously. + She stood there with lips compressed, saying nothing, but feeling a strong + inclination to cry. Serge threw down the flower. Nothing else occurred to + him. Then, to make his peace with her, he asked: ‘Would you like me to + carry you as I did the other day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no.’ + </p> + <p> + She pouted a little, but she had not gone another thirty steps, when she + turned round smiling. A bramble had caught hold of her dress. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought it was you who were treading on my dress purposely. It won’t + let me go. Come and unfasten me.’ + </p> + <p> + When she was released, they walked on again, side by side, very quietly. + Albine pretended that it was much more amusing to stroll along in this + fashion, like steady grown-up folks. They had just reached the meadows. + Far away, in front of them, stretched grassy expanses scarce broken here + and there by the tender foliage of willows. The grass looked soft and + downy, like velvet. It was a deep green, subsiding in the distance into + lighter tints, and on the horizon assuming a bright yellow glow beneath + the flaring sun. The clumps of willows right over yonder seemed like pure + gold, bathed in the tremulous brilliance of the sunshine. Dancing dust + tipped the blades of grass with quivering light, and as the gentle breezes + swept over the free expanse, moire-like reflections appeared on the + caressed and quivering herbage. In the nearer fields a multitude of little + white daisies, now in swarms, now straggling, and now in groups, like + holiday makers at some public rejoicing, brightly peopled the dark grass. + Buttercups showed themselves, gay like little brass bells which the touch + of a fly’s wing would set tinkling. Here and there big lonely poppies + raised fiery cups, and others, gathered together further away, spread out + like vats purple with lees of wine. Big cornflowers balanced aloft their + light blue caps which looked as if they would fly away at every breath of + air. Then under foot there were patches of woolly feather-grass and + fragrant meadow-sweet, sheets of fescue, dog’s-tail, creeping-bent, and + meadow grass. Sainfoin reared its long fine filaments; clover unfurled its + clear green leaves, plantains brandished forests of spears, lucerne spread + out in soft beds of green satin broidered with purple flowers. And all + these were seen, to right, to left, in front, everywhere, rolling over the + level soil, showing like the mossy surface of a stagnant sea, asleep + beneath the sky which ever seemed to expand. Here and there, in the vast + expanse, the vegetation was of a limpid blue, as though it reflected the + colour of the heavens. + </p> + <p> + Albine and Serge stepped along over the meadow-lands, with the grass + reaching to their knees. It was like wading through a pool. Now and then, + indeed, they found themselves caught by a current in which a stream of + bending stalks seemed to flow away between their legs. Then there were + placid-looking, slumbering lakes, basins of short grass, which scarcely + reached their ankles. As they walked along together, their joy found + expression not in wild gambols, as in the orchard a week before, but + rather in loitering, with their feet caught among the supple arms of the + herbage, tasting as it were the caresses of a pure stream which calmed the + exuberance of their youth. Albine turned aside and slipped into a lofty + patch of vegetation which reached to her chin. Only her head appeared. For + a moment or two she stood there in silence. Then she called to Serge: + ‘Come here, it is just like a bath. It is as if one had green water all + over one.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she gave a jump and scampered off without waiting for him, and they + both walked along the margin of the first stream which barred their onward + course. It was a shallow tranquil brook between banks of wild cress. It + flowed on so placidly and gently that its surface reflected like a mirror + the smallest reed that grew beside it. Albine and Serge followed this + stream, whose onward motion was slower than their own, for a long time + before they came across a tree that flung a long shadow upon the idle + waters. As far as their eyes could reach they saw the bare brook stretch + out and slumber in the sunlight like a blue serpent half uncoiled. At last + they reached a clump of three willows. Two had their roots in the stream; + the third was set a little backward. Their trunks, rotten and crumbling + with age, were crowned with the bright foliage of youth. The shadow they + cast was so slight as scarcely to be perceptible upon the sunlit bank. Yet + here the water, which, both above and below, was so unruffled, showed a + transient quiver, a rippling of its surface, as though it were surprised + to find even this light veil cast over it. Between the three willows the + meadow-land sloped down to the stream, and some crimson poppies had sprung + up in the crevices of the decaying old trunks. The foliage of the willows + looked like a tent of greenery fixed upon three stakes by the water’s + edge, beside a rolling prairie. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the place,’ cried Albine, ‘this is the place;’ and she glided + beneath the willows. + </p> + <p> + Serge sat down by her side, his feet almost in the water. He glanced round + him, and murmured: ‘You know everything, you know all the best spots. One + might almost think this was an island, ten feet square, right in the + middle of the sea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed, we are quite at home,’ she replied, as she gleefully drummed + the grass with her fists. ‘It is altogether our own, and we are going to + do everything ourselves.’ Then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, she + sprang towards him, and, with her face close to his, asked him joyously: + ‘Will you be my husband? I will be your wife.’ + </p> + <p> + He was delighted at the notion, and replied that he would gladly be her + husband, laughing even more loudly than she had done herself. Then Albine + suddenly became grave, and assumed the anxious air of a housewife. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ she said, ‘that it is I who will have to give the orders. We + will have breakfast as soon as you have laid the table.’ + </p> + <p> + She gave him her orders in an imperious fashion. He had to stow all the + various articles which she extracted from her pockets into a hole in one + of the willows, which bole she called the cupboard. The rags supplied the + household linen, while the comb represented the toilette necessaries. The + needles and string were to be used for mending the explorers’ clothes. + Provision for the inner man consisted of the little bottle of wine and a + few crusts which she had saved from yesterday. She had, to be sure, some + matches, by the aid of which she intended to cook the fish they were going + to catch. + </p> + <p> + When Serge had finished laying the table, the bottle of wine in the + centre, and three crusts grouped round it, he hazarded the observation + that the fare seemed to be scanty. But Albine shrugged her shoulders with + feminine superiority. And wading into the water, she said in a severe + tone, ‘I will catch the fish; you can watch me.’ + </p> + <p> + For half an hour she strenuously exerted herself in trying to catch some + of the little fishes with her hands. She had gathered up her petticoats + and fastened them together with a piece of string. And she advanced + quietly into the water, taking the greatest care not to disturb it. When + she was quite close to some tiny fish, that lay lurking between a couple + of pebbles, she thrust down her bare arm, made a wild grasp, and brought + her hand up again with nothing in it but sand and gravel. Serge then broke + out into noisy laughter which brought her back to the bank, indignant. She + told him that he had no business to laugh at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ he ended by asking, ‘how are we going to cook your fish when you + have caught it? There is no wood about.’ + </p> + <p> + That put the finishing touch to her discouragement. However, the fish in + that stream didn’t seem to be good for much; so she came out of the water + and ran through the long grass to get her feet dry. + </p> + <p> + ‘See,’ she suddenly exclaimed, ‘here is some pimpernel. It is very nice. + Now we shall have a feast.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge was ordered to gather a quantity of the pimpernel and place it on + the table. They ate it with their crusts. Albine declared that it was much + better than nuts. She assumed the position of mistress of the + establishment, and cut Serge’s bread for him, for she would not trust him + with the knife. At last she made him store away in the ‘cupboard’ the few + drops of wine that remained at the bottom of the bottle. He was also + ordered to sweep the grass. Then Albine lay down at full length. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are going to sleep now, you know. You must lie down by my side.’ + </p> + <p> + He did as he was ordered. They lay there stiffly staring into the air, and + saying that they were asleep, and that it was very nice. After a while, + however, they drew slightly away from one another, averting their heads as + if they felt some discomfort. And at last breaking the silence which had + fallen between them, Serge exclaimed: ‘I love you very much.’ + </p> + <p> + It was love such as it is without any sensual feeling; that instinctive + love which wakens in the bosom of a little man ten years old at the sight + of some white-robed baby-girl. The meadow-lands, spreading around them all + open and free, dissipated the slight fear each felt of the other. They + knew that they lay there, seen of all the herbage, that the blue sky + looked down upon them through the light foliage of the willows, and the + thought was pleasant to them. The willow canopy over their heads was a + mere open screen. The shade it cast was so imperceptible that it wafted to + them none of the languor that some dim coppice might have done. From the + far-off horizon came a healthy breeze fraught with all the freshness of + the grassy sea, swelling here and there into waves of flowers; while, at + their feet, the stream, childlike as they were, flowed idly along with a + gentle babbling that sounded to them like the laughter of a companion. Ah! + happy solitude, so tranquil and placid, immensity wherein the little patch + of grass serving as their couch took the semblance of an infant’s cradle. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, that’s enough; said Albine, getting up; ‘we’ve rested long + enough.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge seemed a little surprised at this speedy termination of their sleep. + He stretched out his arm and caught hold of Albine, as though to draw her + near him again; and when she, laughing, dropped upon her knees he grasped + her elbows and gazed up at her. He knew not to what impulse he was + yielding. But when she had freed herself, and again had risen to her feet, + he buried his face amongst the grass where she had lain, and which still + retained the warmth of her body. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘it is time to get up,’ and then he rose from the + ground. + </p> + <p> + They scoured the meadow-lands until evening began to fall. They went on + and on, inspecting their garden. Albine walked in front, sniffing like a + young dog, and saying nothing, but she was ever in search of the happy + glade, although where they found themselves there were none of the big + trees of which her thoughts were full. Serge meanwhile indulged in all + kinds of clumsy gallantry. He rushed forward so hastily to thrust the tall + herbage aside, that he nearly tripped her up; and he almost tore her arm + from her body as he tried to assist her over the brooks. Their joy was + great when they came to the three other streams. The first flowed over a + bed of pebbles, between two rows of willows, so closely planted that they + had to grope between the branches with the risk of falling into some deep + part of the water. It only rose to Serge’s knees, however, and having + caught Albine in his arms he carried her to the opposite bank, to save her + from a wetting. The next stream flowed black with shade beneath a lofty + canopy of foliage, passing languidly onward with the gentle rustling and + rippling of the satin train of some lady, dreamily sauntering through the + woodland depths. It was a deep, cold, and rather dangerous-looking stream, + but a fallen tree that stretched from bank to bank served them as a + bridge. They crossed over, bestriding the tree with dangling feet, at + first amusing themselves by stirring the water which looked like a mirror + of burnished steel, but then suddenly hastening, frightened by the strange + eyes which opened in the depths of the sleepy current at the slightest + splash. But it was the last stream which delayed them the most. It was + sportive like themselves, it flowed more slowly at certain bends, whence + it started off again with merry ripples, past piles of big stones, into + the shelter of some clump of trees, and grew calmer once more. It + exhibited every humour as it sped along over soft sand or rocky boulders, + over sparkling pebbles or greasy clay, where leaping frogs made yellow + puddles. Albine and Serge dabbled about in delight, and even walked + homewards through the stream in preference to remaining on the bank. At + every little island that divided the current they landed. They conquered + the savage spot or rested beneath the lofty canes and reeds, which seemed + to grow there expressly as shelter for shipwrecked adventurers. Thus they + made a delightful progress, amused by the changing scenery of the banks, + enlivened by the merry humour of the living current. + </p> + <p> + But when they were about to leave the river, Serge realised that Albine + was still seeking something along the banks, on the island, even among the + plants that slept on the surface of the water. He was obliged to go and + pull her from the midst of a patch of water-lilies whose broad leaves set + <i>collerettes</i> around her limbs. He said nothing, but shook his finger + at her. And at last they went home, walking along, arm in arm, like young + people after a day’s outing. They looked at each other, and thought one + another handsomer and stronger than before, and of a certainty their + laughter had a different ring from that with which it had sounded in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <h3> + ‘Are we never going out again?’ asked Serge some days later. + </h3> + <p> + And when he saw Albine shrug her shoulders with a weary air, he added, in + a teasing kind of way, ‘You have got tired of looking for your tree, + then?’ + </p> + <p> + They joked about the tree all day and made fun of it. It didn’t exist. It + was only a nursery-story. Yet they both spoke of it with a slight feeling + of awe. And on the morrow they settled that they would go to the far end + of the park and pay a visit to the great forest-trees which Serge had not + yet seen. Albine refused to take anything along with them. They + breakfasted before starting and did not set off till late. The heat of the + sun, which was then great, brought them a feeling of languor, and they + sauntered along gently, side by side, seeking every patch of sheltering + shade. They lingered neither in the garden nor the orchard, through which + they had to pass. When they gained the shady coolness beneath the big + trees, they dropped into a still slower pace; and, without a word, but + with a deep sigh, as though it were welcome relief to escape from the + glare of day, they pushed on into the forest’s depths. And when they had + nothing but cool green leaves about them, when no glimpse of the sunlit + expanse was afforded by any gap in the foliage, they looked at each other + and smiled, with a feeling of vague uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘How nice it is here!’ murmured Serge. + </p> + <p> + Albine simply nodded her head. A choking sensation in her throat prevented + her from speaking. Their arms were not passed as usual round each other’s + waist, but swung loosely by their sides. They walked along without + touching each other, and with their heads inclined towards the ground. + </p> + <p> + But Serge suddenly stopped short on seeing tears trickle down Albine’s + cheeks and mingle with the smile that played around her lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter with you?’ he exclaimed; ‘are you in pain? Have you + hurt yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, don’t you see I’m smiling? I don’t know how it is, but the scent of + all these trees forces tears into my eyes.’ She glanced at him, and then + resumed: ‘Why, you’re crying too! You see you can’t help it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘all this deep shade affects one. It seems so + peaceful, so mournful here that one feels a little sad. But you must tell + me, you know, if anything makes you really unhappy. I have not done + anything to annoy you, have I? you are not vexed with me?’ + </p> + <p> + She assured him that she was not. She was quite happy, she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then why are you not enjoying yourself more? Shall we have a race?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! no, we can’t race,’ she said, disdainfully, with a pout. And when he + went on to suggest other amusements, such as bird-nesting or gathering + strawberries or violets, she replied a little impatiently: ‘We are too big + for that sort of thing. It is childish to be always playing. Doesn’t it + please you better to walk on quietly by my side?’ + </p> + <p> + She stepped along so prettily, that it was, indeed, a pleasure to hear the + pit-pat of her little boots on the hard soil of the path. Never before had + he paid attention to the rhythmic motion of her figure, the sweep of her + skirts that followed her with serpentine motion. It was happiness never to + be exhausted, to see her thus walking sedately by his side, for he was + ever discovering some new charm in the lissom suppleness of her limbs. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are right,’ he said, ‘this is really the best. I would walk by your + side to the end of the world, if you wished it.’ + </p> + <p> + A little further on, however, he asked her if she were not tired, and + hinted that he would not be sorry to have a rest himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘We might sit down for a few minutes,’ he suggested in a stammering voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ she replied, ‘I don’t want to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we might lie down, you know, as we did in the meadows the other day. + We should be quite comfortable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; I don’t want to.’ + </p> + <p> + And she suddenly sprang aside, as if scared by the masculine arms + outstretched towards her. Serge called her a big stupid, and tried to + catch her. But at the light touch of his fingers she cried out with such + an expression of pain that he drew back, trembling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have hurt you?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + She did not reply for a moment, surprised, herself, at her cry of fear, + and already smiling at her own alarm. + </p> + <p> + ‘No; leave me, don’t worry me;’ and she added in a grave tone, though she + tried to feign jocularity: ‘you know that I have my tree to look for.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Serge began to laugh, and offered to help her in her search. He + conducted himself very gently in order that he might not again alarm her, + for he saw that she was even yet trembling, though she had resumed her + slow walk beside him. What they were contemplating was forbidden, and + could bring them no luck; and he, like her, felt a delightful awe, which + thrilled him at each repeated sigh of the forest trees. The perfume of the + foliage, the soft green light which filtered through the leaves, the + soughing silence of the undergrowth, filled them with tremulous + excitement, as though the next turn of the path might lead them to some + perilous happiness. + </p> + <p> + And for hours they walked on under the cool trees. They retained their + reserved attitude towards each other, and scarcely exchanged a word, + though they never left each other’s side, but went together through the + darkest greenery of the forest. At first their way lay through a jungle of + saplings with trunks no thicker than a child’s wrist. They had to push + them aside, and open a path for themselves through the tender shoots which + threw a wavy lacework of foliage before their eyes. The saplings closed up + again behind them, leaving no trace of their passage, and they struggled + on and on at random, ignorant of where they might be, and leaving nothing + behind them to mark their progress, save a momentary waving of shaken + boughs. Albine, weary of being unable to see more than three steps in + front of her, was delighted when they at last found themselves free of + this jungle, whose end they had long tried to discover. They had now + reached a little clearing, whence several narrow paths, fringed with green + hedges, struck out in various directions, twisting hither and thither, + intersecting one another, bending and stretching in the most capricious + fashion. Albine and Serge rose on tip-toes to peep over the hedges; but + they were in no haste, and would willingly have stayed where they were, + lost in the mazy windings, without ever getting anywhere, if they had not + seen before them the proud lines of the lofty forest trees. They passed at + last beneath their shade, solemnly and with a touch of sacred awe, as when + one enters some vaulted cathedral. The straight lichen-stained trunks of + the mighty trees, of a dingy grey, like discoloured stone, towered + loftily, line by line, like a far-reaching infinity of columns. Naves + opened far away, with lower, narrower aisles; naves strangely bold in + their proportions, whose supporting pillars were very slender, richly + caned, so finely chiselled that everywhere they allowed a glimpse of the + blue heavens. A religious silence reigned beneath the giant arches, the + ground below lay hard as stone in its austere nakedness; not a blade of + green was there, nought but a ruddy dust of dead leaves. And Serge and + Albine listened to their ringing footsteps as they went on, thrilled by + the majestic solitude of this temple. + </p> + <p> + Here, indeed, if anywhere, must be the much-sought tree, beneath whose + shade perfect happiness had made its home. They felt that it was nigh, + such was the delight which stole through them amidst the dimness of those + mighty arches. The trees seemed to be creatures of kindliness, full of + strength and silence and happy restfulness. They looked at them one by + one, and they loved them all; and they awaited from their majestic + tranquillity some revelation whereby they themselves might grow, expand + into the bliss of strong and perfect life. The maples, the ashes, the + hornbeams, the cornels, formed a nation of giants, a multitude full of + proud gentleness, who lived in peace, knowing that the fall of any one of + them would have sufficed to wreck a whole corner of the forest. The elms + displayed colossal bodies and limbs full of sap, scarce veiled by light + clusters of little leaves. The birches and the alders, delicate as sylphs, + swayed their slim figures in the breeze to which they surrendered the + foliage that streamed around them like the locks of goddesses already half + metamorphosed into trees. The planes shot up regularly with glossy + tattooed bark, whence scaly fragments fell. Down a gentle slope descended + the larches, resembling a band of barbarians, draped in <i>sayons</i> of + woven greenery. But the oaks were the monarchs of all—the mighty + oaks, whose sturdy trunks thrust out conquering arms that barred the sun’s + approach from all around them; Titan-like trees, oft lightning-struck, + thrown back in postures like those of unconquered wrestlers, with + scattered limbs that alone gave birth to a whole forest. + </p> + <p> + Could the tree which Serge and Albine sought be one of those colossal + oaks? or was it one of those lovely planes, or one of those pale, maidenly + birches, or one of those creaking elms? Albine and Serge still plodded on, + unable to tell, completely lost amongst the crowding trees. For a moment + they thought they had found the object of their quest in the midst of a + group of walnut trees from whose thick foliage fell so cold a shadow that + they shivered beneath it. Further on they felt another thrill of emotion + as they came upon a little wood of chestnut trees, green with moss and + thrusting out big strange-shaped branches, on which one might have built + an aerial village. But further still Albine caught sight of a clearing, + whither they both ran hastily. Here, in the midst of a carpet of fine + turf, a locust tree had set a very toppling of greenery, a foliaged Babel, + whose ruins were covered with the strangest vegetation. Stones, sucked up + from the ground by the mounting sap, still remained adhering to the trunk. + High branches bent down to earth again, and, taking root, surrounded the + parent tree with lofty arches, a nation of new trunks which ever increased + and multiplied. Upon the bark, seared with bleeding wounds, were ripening + fruit-pods; the mere effort of bearing fruit strained the old monster’s + skin until it split. The young folks walked slowly round it, passing under + the arched branches which formed as it were the streets of a city, and + stared at the gaping cracks of the naked roots. Then they went off, for + they had not felt there the supernatural happiness they sought. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are we?’ asked Serge. + </p> + <p> + Albine did not know. She had never before come to this part of the park. + They were now in a grove of cytisus and acacias, from whose clustering + blossoms fell a soft, almost sugary perfume. ‘We are quite lost,’ she + laughed. ‘I don’t know these trees at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But the garden must come to an end somewhere,’ said Serge. ‘When we get + to the end, you will know where you are, won’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ she answered, waving her hands afar. + </p> + <p> + They fell into silence; never yet had the vastness of the park filled them + with such pleasure. They joyed at knowing that they were alone in so + far-spreading a domain that even they themselves could not reach its + limits. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, we are lost,’ said Serge, gaily; then humbly drawing near her he + inquired: ‘You are not afraid, are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! no. There’s no one except you and me in the garden. What could I be + afraid of? The walls are very high. We can’t see them, but they guard us, + you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge was now quite close to her, and he murmured, ‘But a little time ago + you were afraid of me.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked him straight in the face, perfectly calm, without the least + faltering in her glance. ‘You hurt me,’ she replied, ‘but you are + different now. Why should I be afraid of you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you will let me hold you like this. We will go back under the + trees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you may put your arm around me, it makes me feel happy. And we’ll + walk slowly, eh? so that we may not find our way again too soon.’ + </p> + <p> + He had passed his arm round her waist, and it was thus that they sauntered + back to the shade of the great forest trees, under whose arching vaults + they slowly went, with love awakening within them. Albine said that she + felt a little tired, and rested her head on Serge’s shoulder. The fabulous + tree was now forgotten. They only sought to draw their faces nearer + together that they might smile in one another’s eyes. And it was the + trees, the maples, the elms, the oaks, with their soft green shade, that + whisperingly suggested to them the first words of love. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you!’ said Serge, while his breath stirred the golden hair that + clustered round Albine’s temples. He tried to think of other words, but he + could only repeat, ‘I love you! I love you!’ + </p> + <p> + Albine listened with a delightful smile upon her face. The music of her + heart was in accord with his. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you! I love you!’ she sighed, with all the sweetness of her soft + young voice. + </p> + <p> + Then, lifting up her blue eyes, in which the light of love was dawning, + she asked, ‘How do you love me?’ + </p> + <p> + Serge reflected for a moment. The forest was wrapped in solemn quietude, + the lofty naves quivered only with the soft footsteps of the young pair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you beyond everything,’ he answered. ‘You are more beautiful than + all else that I see when I open my window in the morning. When I look at + you, I want nothing more. If I could have you only, I should be perfectly + happy.’ + </p> + <p> + She lowered her eyes, and swayed her head as if accompanying a strain of + music. ‘I love you,’ he went on. ‘I know nothing about you. I know not who + you are, nor whence you came. You are neither my mother nor my sister; and + yet I love you to a point that I have given you my whole heart and kept + nought of it for others. Listen, I love those cheeks of yours, so soft and + satiny; I love your mouth with its rose-sweet breath; I love your eyes, in + which I see my own love reflected; I love even your eyelashes, even those + little veins which blue the whiteness of your temples. Ah! yes, I love + you, I love you, Albine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I love you, too,’ she answered. ‘You are strong, and tall, and + handsome. I love you, Serge.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment or two they remained silent, enraptured. It seemed to them + that soft, flute-like music went before them, that their own words came + from some dulcet orchestra which they could not see. Shorter and shorter + became their steps as they leaned one towards the other, ever threading + their way amidst the mighty trees. Afar off through the long vista of the + colonnades were glimpses of waning sunlight, showing like a procession of + white-robed maidens entering church for a betrothal ceremony amid the low + strains of an organ. + </p> + <p> + ‘And why do you love me?’ asked Albine again. + </p> + <p> + He only smiled, and did not answer her immediately; then he said, ‘I love + you because you came to me. That expresses all.... Now we are together and + we love one another. It seems to me that I could not go on living if I did + not love you. You are the very breath of my life.’ + </p> + <p> + He bent his head, speaking almost as though he were in a dream. + </p> + <p> + ‘One does not know all that at first. It grows up in one as one’s heart + grows. One has to grow, one has to get strong.... Do you remember how we + loved one another though we didn’t speak of it? One is childish and silly + at first. Then, one fine day, it all becomes clear, and bursts out. You + see, we have nothing to trouble about; we love one another because our + love and our life are one.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine’s head was cast back, her eyes were tightly closed, and she scarce + drew her breath. Serge’s caressing words enraptured her: ‘Do you really, + really love me?’ she murmured, without opening her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Serge remained silent, sorely troubled that he could find nothing further + to say to prove to her the force of his love. His eyes wandered over her + rosy face, which lay upon his shoulder with the restfulness of sleep. Her + eyelids were soft as silk. Her moist lips were curved into a bewitching + smile, her brow was pure white, with just a rim of gold below her hair. He + would have liked to give his whole being with the word which seemed to be + upon his tongue but which he could not utter. Again he bent over her, and + seemed to consider on what sweet spot of that fair face he should whisper + the supreme syllables. But he said nothing, he only breathed a little + sigh. Then he kissed Albine’s lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Albine, I love you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you, Serge!’ + </p> + <p> + Then they stopped short, thrilled, quivering with that first love kiss. + She had opened her eyes quite widely. He was standing with his lips + protruding slightly towards hers. They looked at each other without a + blush. They felt they were under the influence of some sovereign power. It + was like the realisation of a long dreamt-of meeting, in which they beheld + themselves grown, made one for the other, for ever joined. For a moment + they remained wondering, raising their eyes to the solemn vault of + greenery above them, questioning the tranquil nation of trees as if + seeking an echo of their kiss. But, beneath the serene complacence of the + forest, they yielded to prolonged, ringing lovers’ gaiety, full of all the + tenderness now born. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me how long you have loved me. Tell me everything. Did you love me + that day when you lay sleeping upon my hand? Did you love me when I fell + out of the cherry tree, and you stood beneath it, stretching out your arms + to catch me, and looking so pale? Did you love me when you took hold of me + round the waist in the meadows to help me over the streams?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush, let me speak. I have always loved you. And you, did you love me; + did you?’ + </p> + <p> + Until the evening closed round them they lived upon that one word ‘love,’ + in which they ever seemed to find some new sweetness. They brought it into + every sentence, ejaculated it inconsequentially, merely for the pleasure + they found in pronouncing it. Serge, however, did not think of pressing a + second kiss to Albine’s lips. The perfume of the first sufficed them in + their purity. They had found their way again, or rather had stumbled upon + it, for they had paid no attention to the paths they took. As they left + the forest, twilight had fallen, and the moon was rising, round and + yellow, between the black foliage. It was a delightful walk home through + the park, with that discreet luminary peering at them through the gaps in + the big trees. Albine said that the moon was surely following them. The + night was balmy, warm too with stars. Far away a long murmur rose from the + forest trees, and Serge listened, thinking: ‘They are talking of us.’ + </p> + <p> + When they reached the parterre, they passed through an atmosphere of + sweetest perfumes; the perfume of flowers at night, which is richer, more + caressing than by day, and seems like the very breath of slumber. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night, Serge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night, Albine.’ + </p> + <p> + They clasped each other by the hand on the landing of the first floor, + without entering the room where they usually wished each other good night. + They did not kiss. But Serge, when he was alone, remained seated on the + edge of his bed, listening to Albine’s every movement in the room above. + He was weary with happiness, a happiness that benumbed his limbs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + For the next few days Albine and Serge experienced a feeling of + embarrassment. They avoided all allusion to their walk beneath the trees. + They had not again kissed each other, or repeated their confession of + love. It was not any feeling of shame which had sealed their lips, but + rather a fear of in any way spoiling their happiness. When they were + apart, they lived upon the dear recollection of love’s awakening, plunged + into it, passed once more through the happy hours which they had spent, + with their arms around each other’s waist, and their faces close together. + It all ended by throwing them both into a feverish state. They looked at + each other with heavy eyes, and talked, in a melancholy mood, of things + that did not interest them in the least. Then, after a long interval of + silence, Serge would say to Albine in a tone full of anxiety: ‘You are + ill?’ + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head as she answered, ‘No, no. It is you who are not + well; your hands are burning.’ + </p> + <p> + The thought of the park filled them with vague uneasiness which they could + not understand. They felt that danger lurked for them in some by-path, and + would seize them and do them hurt. They never spoke about these + disquieting thoughts, but certain timid glances revealed to them the + mutual anguish which held them apart as though they were foes. One + morning, however, Albine ventured, after much hesitation, to say to Serge: + ‘It is wrong of you to keep always indoors. You will fall ill again.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge laughed in rather an embarrassed way. ‘Bah!’ he muttered, ‘we have + been everywhere, we know all the garden by heart.’ + </p> + <p> + But Albine shook her head, and in a whisper replied, ‘No, no, we don’t + know the rocks, we have never been to the springs. It was there that I + warmed myself last winter. There are some nooks where the stones seem to + be actually alive.’ + </p> + <p> + The next morning, without having said another word on the subject, they + set out together. They climbed up to the left behind the grotto where the + marble woman lay slumbering; and as they set foot on the lowest stones, + Serge remarked: ‘We must see everything. Perhaps we shall feel quieter + afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + The day was very hot, there was thunder in the air. They had not ventured + to clasp each other’s waist; but stepped along, one behind the other, + glowing beneath the sunlight. Albine took advantage of a widening of the + path to let Serge go on in front; for the warmth of his breath upon her + neck troubled her. All around them the rocks arose in broad tiers, storeys + of huge flags, bristling with coarse vegetation. They first came upon + golden gorse, clumps of sage, thyme, lavender, and other balsamic plants, + with sour-berried juniper trees and bitter rosemary, whose strong scent + made them dizzy. Here and there the path was hemmed in by holly, that grew + in quaint forms like cunningly wrought metal work, gratings of blackened + bronze, wrought iron, and polished copper, elaborately ornamented, covered + with prickly <i>rosaces</i>. And before reaching the springs, they had to + pass through a pine-wood. Its shadow seemed to weigh upon their shoulders + like lead. The dry needles crackled beneath their feet, throwing up a + light resinous dust which burned their lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your garden doesn’t make itself very agreeable just here,’ said Serge, + turning towards Albine. + </p> + <p> + They smiled at each other. They were now near the edge of the springs. The + sight of the clear waters brought them relief. Yet these springs did not + hide beneath a covering of verdure, like those that bubble up on the + plains and set thick foliage growing around them that they may slumber + idly in the shade. They shot up in the full light of day from a cavity in + the rock, without a blade of grass near by to tinge the clear water with + green. Steeped in the sunshine they looked silvery. In their depths the + sun beat against the sand in a breathing living dust of light. And they + darted out of their basin like arms of purest white, they rebounded like + nude infants at play, and then suddenly leapt down in a waterfall whose + curve suggested a woman’s breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dip your hands in,’ cried Albine; ‘the water is icy cold at the bottom.’ + </p> + <p> + They were indeed able to refresh their hot hands. They threw water over + their faces too, and lingered there amidst the spray which rose up from + the streaming springs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look,’ cried Albine; ‘look, there is the garden, and there are the + meadows and the forest.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment they looked at the Paradou spread out beneath their feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you see,’ she added, ‘there isn’t the least sign of any wall. The + whole country belongs to us, right up to the sky.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time, almost unawares, they had slipped their arms round each + other’s waist. The coolness of the springs had soothed their feverish + disquietude. But just as they were going away, Albine seemed to recall + something and led Serge back again, saying: + </p> + <p> + ‘Down there, below the rocks, a long time ago, I once saw the wall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there is nothing to be seen,’ replied Serge, turning a little pale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes; it must be behind that avenue of chestnut trees on the other + side of those bushes.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, on feeling Serge’s arm tremble, she added: ‘But perhaps I am + mistaken.... Yet I seem to remember that I suddenly came upon it as I left + the avenue. It stopped my way, and was so high that I felt a little + afraid. And a few steps farther on, I came upon another surprise. There + was a huge hole in it, through which I could see the whole country + outside.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge looked at her with entreaty in his eyes. She gave a little shrug of + her shoulders to reassure him, and went on: ‘But I stopped the hole up; I + have told you that we are quite alone, and we are. I stopped it up at + once. I had my knife with me, and I cut down some brambles and rolled up + some big stones. I would defy even a sparrow to force its way through. If + you like, we will go and look at it one of these days, and then you will + be satisfied.’ + </p> + <p> + But he shook his head. Then they went away together, still holding each + other by the waist; but they had grown anxious once more. Serge gazed down + askance at Albine’s face, and she felt perturbed beneath his glance. They + would have liked to go down again at once, and thus escape the uneasiness + of a longer walk. But, in spite of themselves, as though impelled by some + stronger power, they skirted a rocky cliff and reached a table-land, where + once more they found the intoxication of the full sunlight. They no longer + inhaled the soft languid perfumes of aromatic plants, the musky scent of + thyme, and the incense of lavender. Now they were treading a foul-smelling + growth under foot; wormwood with bitter, penetrating smell; rue that + reeked like putrid flesh; and hot valerian, clammy with aphrodisiacal + exudations. Mandragoras, hemlocks, hellebores, dwales, poured forth their + odours, and made their heads swim till they reeled and tottered one + against the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I hold you up?’ Serge asked Albine, as he felt her leaning heavily + upon him. + </p> + <p> + He was already pressing her in his arms, but she struggled out of his + grasp, and drew a long breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘No; you stifle me,’ she said. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t know what is the + matter with me. The ground seems to give way under my feet. It is there I + feel the pain.’ + </p> + <p> + She took hold of his hand and laid it upon her breast. Then Serge turned + quite pale. He was even more overcome than she. And both had tears in + their eyes as they saw each other thus ill and troubled, unable to think + of a remedy for the evil which had fallen upon them. Were they going to + die here of that mysterious, suffocating faintness? + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and sit down in the shade,’ said Serge. ‘It is these plants which + are poisoning us with their noxious odours.’ + </p> + <p> + He led her gently along by her finger-tips, for she shivered and trembled + when he but touched her wrist. It was beneath a fine cedar, whose level + roof-like branches spread nearly a dozen yards around, that she seated + herself. Behind grew various quaint conifers; cypresses, with soft flat + foliage that looked like heavy lace; spruce firs, erect and solemn, like + ancient druidical pillars, still black with the blood of sacrificed + victims; yews, whose dark robes were fringed with silver; evergreen trees + of all kinds, with thick-set foliage, dark leathery verdure, splashed here + and there with yellow and red. There was a weird-looking araucaria that + stood out strangely with large regular arms resembling reptiles grafted + one on the other, and bristling with imbricated leaves that suggested the + scales of an excited serpent. In this heavy shade, the warm air lulled one + to voluptuous drowsiness. The atmosphere slept, breathless; and a perfume + of Eastern love, the perfume that came from the painted lips of the + Shunamite, was exhaled by the odorous trees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you not going to sit down?’ said Albine. + </p> + <p> + And she slipped a little aside to make room for him; but Serge stepped + back and remained standing. Then, as she renewed her request, he dropped + upon his knees, a little distance away, and said, softly: ‘No, I am more + feverish even than you are; I should make you hot. If I wasn’t afraid of + hurting you, I would take you in my arms, and clasp you so tightly that we + should no longer feel any pain.’ + </p> + <p> + He dragged himself nearer to her on his knees. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! to have you in my arms! In the night I awake from dreams in which I + see you near me; but, alas! you are ever far away. There seems to be some + wall built up between us which I can never beat down. And yet I am now + quite strong again; I could catch you up in my arms and swing you over my + shoulder, and carry you off as though you belonged to me.’ + </p> + <p> + He had let himself sink upon his elbows, in an attitude of deep adoration. + And he breathed a kiss upon the hem of Albine’s skirt. But at this the + girl sprang up, as though it was she herself that had received the kiss. + She hid her brow with her hands, perturbed, quivering, and stammering + forth: ‘Don’t! don’t! I beg of you. Let us go on.’ + </p> + <p> + She did not hurry away, but let Serge follow her as she walked slowly on, + stumbling against the roots of the plants, and with her hands still + clasped round her head, as though to check the excitement that thrilled + her. When they came out of the little wood, they took a few steps over + ledges of rocks, on which a whole nation of ardent fleshy plants was + squatting. It was like a crawling, writhing assemblage of hideous nameless + monsters such as people a nightmare; monsters akin to spiders, + caterpillars, and wood-lice, grown to gigantic proportions, some with bare + glaucous skins, others tufted with filthy matted hairs, whilst many had + sickly limbs—dwarf legs, and shrivelled, palsied arms—sprawling + around them. And some displayed horrid dropsical bellies; some had spines + bossy with hideous humps, and others looked like dislocated skeletons. + Mamillaria threw up living pustules, a crawling swarm of greenish + tortoises, bristling hideously with long hairs that were stiffer than + iron. The echinocacti, which showed more flesh, suggested nests of young + writhing, knotted vipers. The echinopses were mere excrescent red-haired + growths that made one think of huge insects rolled into balls. The + prickly-pears spread out fleshy leaves spotted with ruddy spikes that + resembled swarms of microscopic bees. The gasterias sprawled about like + big shepherd-spiders turned over on their backs, with long-speckled and + striated legs. The cacti of the cereus family showed a horrid vegetation, + huge polyps, the diseases of an overheated soil, the maladies of poisoned + sap. But the aloes, languidly unfolding their hearts, were particularly + numerous and conspicuous. Among them one found every possible tint of + green, pale green and vivid, yellowish green and greyish, browny green, + dashed with a ruddy tone, and deep green, fringed with pale gold. And the + shapes of their leaves were as varied as their tints. Some were broad and + heart-shaped, others were long and narrow like sword-blades; some bristled + with spikey thorns, while yet others looked as though they had been + cunningly hemmed at the edges. There were giant ones, in lonely majesty, + with flower stalks that towered up aloft like poles wreathed with rosy + coral; and there were tiny ones clustering thickly together on one and the + same stem, and throwing forth on all sides leaves that gleamed and + quivered like adders’ tongues. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us go back to the shade,’ begged Serge. ‘You can sit down there as + you did just now, and I will lie at your feet and talk to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Where they stood the sun rays fell like torrential rain. It was as if the + triumphant orb seized upon the shadowless ground, and strained it to his + blazing breast. Albine grew faint, staggered, and turned to Serge for + support. + </p> + <p> + But the moment they felt each other’s touch, they fell together without + even a word. It was as though the very rock beneath them had opened, as + though they were ever going down and down. Their hands sought each other + caressingly, embracingly, but such keen anguish did they experience that + they suddenly tore themselves apart, and fled, each in a different + direction. Serge did not cease running till he had reached the pavilion, + and had thrown himself upon his bed, his brain on fire, and despair in his + heart. Albine did not return till nightfall, after hours of weeping in a + corner of the garden. It was the first time that they had not returned + home together, tired after their long wanderings. For three days they kept + apart, feeling terribly unhappy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + Yet now the park was entirely their own. They had taken sovereign + possession of it. There was not a corner of it that was not theirs to use + as they willed. For them alone the thickets of roses put forth their + blossoms, and the parterre exhaled its soft perfume, which lulled them to + sleep as they lay at night with their windows open. The orchard provided + them with food, filling Albine’s skirts with fruits, and spread over them + the shade of its perfumed boughs, under which it was so pleasant to + breakfast in the early morning. Away in the meadows the grass and the + streams were all theirs; the grass, which extended their kingdom to such + boundless distance, spreading an endless silky carpet before them; and the + streams, which were the best of their joys, emblematic of their own purity + and innocence, ever offering them coolness and freshness in which they + delighted to bathe their youth. The forest, too, was entirely theirs, from + the mighty oaks, which ten men could not have spanned, to the slim birches + which a child might have snapped; the forest, with all its trees, all its + shade, all its avenues and clearings, its cavities of greenery, of which + the very birds themselves were ignorant; the forest which they used as + they listed, as if it were a giant canopy, beneath which they might + shelter from the noontide heat their new-born love. They reigned + everywhere, even among the rocks and the springs, even over that gruesome + stretch of ground that teemed with such hideous growth, and which had + seemed to sink and give way beneath their feet, but which they loved yet + even more than the soft grassy couches of the garden, for the strange + thrill of passion they had felt there. + </p> + <p> + Thus, now, in front of them, behind them, to the right of them and to the + left, all was theirs. They had gained possession of the whole domain, and + they walked through a friendly expanse which knew them, and smiled kindly + greetings to them as they passed, devoting itself to their pleasure, like + a faithful and submissive servitor. The sky, with its vast canopy of blue + overhead, was also theirs to enjoy. The park walls could not enclose it, + their eyes could ever revel in its beauty, and it entered into the joy of + their life, at daytime with its triumphal sun, at night with its golden + rain of stars. At every moment of the day it delighted them afresh, its + expression ever varying. In the early morning it was pale as a maiden just + risen from her slumber; at noon, it was flushed, radiant as with a longing + for fruitfulness, and in the evening it became languid and breathless, as + after keen enjoyment. Its countenance was constantly changing. + Particularly in the evenings, at the hour of parting, did it delight them. + The sun, hastening towards the horizon, ever found a fresh smile. + Sometimes he disappeared in the midst of serene calmness, unflecked by a + single cloud, sinking gradually beneath a golden sea. At other times he + threw out crimson glories, tore his vaporous robe to shreds, and set + amidst wavy flames that streaked the skies like the tails of gigantic + comets, whose radiant heads lit up the crests of the forest trees. Then, + again, extinguishing his rays one by one, he would softly sink to rest on + shores of ruddy sand, far-reaching banks of blushing coral; and then, some + other night, he would glide away demurely behind a heavy cloud that + figured the grey hangings of some alcove, through which the eye could only + detect a spark like that of a night-light. Or else he would rush to his + couch in a tumult of passion, rolled round with white forms which + gradually crimsoned beneath his fiery embraces, and finally disappeared + with him below the horizon in a confused chaos of gleaming, struggling + limbs. + </p> + <p> + It was only the plants which had not made their submission. Albine and + Serge passed like monarchs through the kingdom of animals, who rendered + them humble and loyal obeisance. When they crossed the parterre, flights + of butterflies arose to delight their eyes, to fan them with quivering + wings, and to follow in their train like living sunbeams or flying + blossoms. In the orchard, they were greeted by the birds that banqueted in + the fruit-trees. The sparrows, the chaffinches, the golden orioles, the + bullfinches, showed them the ripest fruit scarred by their hungry beaks; + and while they sat astride the branches and breakfasted, birds twittered + and sported round them like children at play, and even purloined the fruit + beneath their very feet. Albine found even more amusement in the meadows, + where she caught the little green frogs with eyes of gold, that lay + squatting amongst the reeds, absorbed in contemplation; while Serge, with + a piece of straw, poked the crickets out of their hiding-places, or + tickled the grasshoppers to make them sing. He picked up insects of all + colours, blue ones, red ones, yellow ones, and set them creeping upon his + sleeve, where they gleamed and glittered like buttons of sapphire and ruby + and topaz. + </p> + <p> + Then there was all the mysterious life of the streams; the grey-backed + fishes that threaded the dim waters, the eels whose presence was betrayed + by a slight quivering of the water-plants, the young fry, which dispersed + like blackish sand at the slightest sound, the long-legged flies and the + water-beetles that ruffled into circling silvery ripples the stagnant + surface of the pools; all that silent teeming life which drew them to the + water and impelled them to dabble and stand in it, so that they might feel + those millions of existences ever and ever gliding past their limbs. At + other times, when the day was hot and languid, they would betake + themselves beneath the voiceful shade of the forest and listen to the + serenades of their musicians, the clear fluting of the nightingales, the + silvery bugle-notes of the tomtits, and the far-off accompaniment of the + cuckoos. They gazed with delight upon the swift flight of the pheasants, + whose plumes gleamed like sudden sun rays amidst the branches, and with a + smile they stayed their steps to let a troop of young roebucks bound past, + or else a couple of grave stags that slackened their pace to look at them. + Again, on other days they would climb up amongst the rocks, when the sun + was blazing in the heavens, and find a pleasure in watching the swarms of + grasshoppers which at the sound of their footsteps arose with a great + crepitation of wings from the beds of thyme. The snakes that lay uncoiled + beneath the parched bushes, or the lizards that sprawled over the red-hot + stones, watched them with friendly eyes. + </p> + <p> + Of all the life that thus teemed round them in the park, Albine and Serge + had only become really conscious since the day when a kiss had awakened + them to life themselves. Now it deafened them at times, and spoke to them + in a language which they did not understand. It was that life—all + the voices of the animal creation, all the perfumes and soft shadows of + the flowers and trees—which perturbed them to such a point as to + make them angry with one another. And yet throughout the whole park they + found nothing but loving familiarity. Every plant and every creature was + their friend. All the Paradou was one great caress. + </p> + <p> + Before they had come thither, the sun had for a whole century reigned over + it in lonely majesty. The garden, then, had known no other master; it had + beheld him, every morning, scaling the boundary wall with his slanting + rays, at noontide it had seen him pour his vertical heat upon the panting + soil; and at evening it had seen him go off, on the other side, with a + kiss of farewell upon its foliage. And so the garden had no shyness; it + welcomed Albine and Serge, as it had so long welcomed the sun, as pleasant + companions, with whom one puts on no ceremony. The animals, the trees, the + streams, the rocks, all continued in an unrestrained state of nature, + speaking aloud, living openly, without a secret, displaying the innocent + shamelessness, the hearty tenderness of the world’s first days. Serge and + Albine, however, suffered from these voluptuous surroundings, and at times + felt minded to curse the garden. On the afternoon when Albine had wept so + bitterly after their saunter amongst the rocks, she had called out to the + Paradou, whose intensity of life and passion filled her with distress: + </p> + <p> + ‘If you really be our friend, why, why do you make us so wretched?’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Serge barricaded himself in his room. The perfume from + the garden irritated him. He drew the calico curtains closely across the + window to shut out the sight of the park. Perhaps he thought he might + recover all his old serenity and calm if he shut himself off from that + greenery, whose shade sent such passionate thrills quivering through him. + </p> + <p> + During the long hours they spent together, Albine and he never now spoke + of the rocks or the streams, the trees or the sky. The Paradou might no + longer have been in existence. They strove to forget it. And yet they were + all the time conscious of its presence on the other side of those slight + curtains. Scented breezes forced their way in through the interstices of + the window frame, the many voices of nature made the panes resound. All + the life of the park laughed, chattered, and whispered in ambush beneath + their window. As it reached them their cheeks would pale and they would + raise their voices, seeking some occupation which might prevent them from + hearing it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you noticed,’ said Serge one morning during these uneasy intervals, + ‘there is a painting of a woman over the door there? She is like you.’ + </p> + <p> + He laughed noisily as he finished speaking. They both turned to the + paintings and dragged the table once more alongside the wall, with a + nervous desire to occupy themselves. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! no,’ murmured Albine. ‘She is much fatter than I am. But one can’t + see her very well; her position is so queer.’ + </p> + <p> + They relapsed into silence. From the decayed, faded painting a scene, + which they had never before noticed, now showed forth. It was as if the + picture had taken shape and substance again beneath the influence of the + summer heat. You could sea a nymph with arms thrown back and pliant figure + on a bed of flowers which had been strewn for her by young cupids, who, + sickle in hand, ever added fresh blossoms to her rosy couch. And nearer, + you could also see a cloven-hoofed faun who had surprised her thus. But + Albine repeated, ‘No, she is not like me, she is very plain.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge said nothing. He looked at the girl and then at Albine, as though he + were comparing them one with the other. Albine pulled up one of her + sleeves, as if to show that her arm was whiter than that of the pictured + girl. Then they subsided into silence again, and gazed at the painting; + and for a moment Albine’s large blue eyes turned to Serge’s grey ones, + which were glowing. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have got all the room painted again, then?’ she cried, as she sprang + from the table. ‘These people look as though they were all coming to life + again.’ + </p> + <p> + They began to laugh, but there was a nervous ring about their merriment as + they glanced at the nude and frisking cupids which started to life again + on all the panels. They no longer took those survivals of voluptuous + eighteenth century art to represent mere children at play. They were + disturbed by the sight of them, and as Albine felt Serge’s hot breath on + her neck she started and left his side to seat herself on the sofa. ‘They + frighten me,’ she murmured. ‘The men are like robbers, and the women, with + their dying eyes, look like people who are being murdered.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge sat down in a chair, a little distance away, and began to talk of + other matters. But they remained uneasy. They seemed to think that all + those painted figures were gazing at them. It was as if the trooping + cupids were springing out of the panelling, casting the flowers they held + around them, and threatening to bind them together with the blue ribbons + which already enchained two lovers in one corner of the ceiling. And the + whole story of the nymph and her faun lover, from his first peep at her to + his triumph among the flowers, seemed to burst into warm life. Were all + those lovers, all those impudent shameless cupids about to step down from + their panels and crowd around them? They already seemed to hear their + panting sighs, and to feel their breath filling the spacious room with the + perfume of voluptuousness. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s quite suffocating, isn’t it?’ sighed Albine. ‘In spite of every + airing I have given it, the room has always seemed close to me! + </p> + <p> + ‘The other night,’ said Serge, ‘I was awakened by such a penetrating + perfume, that I called out to you, thinking you had come into the room. It + was just like the soft warmth of your hair when you have decked it with + heliotropes.... In the earlier times it seemed to be wafted to me from a + distance, it was like the lingering memory of a perfume; but now I can’t + sleep for it, and it is so strong and penetrating that it quite stupefies + me. The alcove grows so hot, too, at night that I shall be obliged to lie + on the couch.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine laid her fingers on her lips, and whispered, ‘It is the dead girl—she + who once lived here.’ + </p> + <p> + They sniffed the odorous air with forced gaiety, but in reality feeling + very troubled. Certainly never before had the room exhaled such a + disquieting aroma. The very walls seemed to be still echoing the faint + rustling of perfumed skirts; and the floor had retained the fragrance of + satin slippers dropped by the bedside, and near the head of the bed itself + Serge thought he could trace the imprint of a little hand, which had left + behind it a clinging scent of violets. Over all the furniture the phantom + presence of the dead girl still lingered fragrantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘See, this is the armchair where she used to sit,’ cried Albine; ‘there is + the scent of her shoulders at the back of it yet.’ + </p> + <p> + She sat down in it herself, and bade Serge drop upon his knees and kiss + her hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You remember the day when I first let you in and said, “Good morrow, my + dear lord!” But that wasn’t all, was it? He kissed her hands when the door + was closed. There they are, my hands. They are yours.’ + </p> + <p> + Then they tried to resume their old frolics in order that they might + forget the Paradou, whose joyous murmur they heard ever rising outside, + and that they might no longer think of the pictures nor yield to the + languor-breathing influence of the room. Albine put on an affected manner, + leant back in her chair, and finally laughed at the foolish figure which + Serge made at her feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘You stupid!’ she said, ‘take me round the waist, and say pretty things to + me, since you are supposed to be in love with me. Don’t you know how to + make love then?’ + </p> + <p> + But as soon as she felt him clasp her with eager impetuosity, she began to + struggle, and freed herself from his embrace. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; leave me alone. I can’t bear it. I feel as though I were choking + in this room.’ + </p> + <p> + From that day forward they felt the same kind of fear for the room as they + already felt for the garden. Their one remaining harbour of refuge was now + a place to be shunned and dreaded, a spot where they could no longer find + themselves together without watching each other furtively. Albine now + scarcely ventured to enter it, but remained near the threshold, with the + door wide open behind her so as to afford her an immediate retreat. Serge + lived there in solitude, a prey to sickening restlessness, half-stifling, + lying on the couch and vainly trying to close his ears to the sighs of the + soughing park and his nostrils to the haunting fragrance of the old + furniture. At night he dreamt wild passionate dreams, which left him in + the morning nervous and disquieted. He believed that he was falling ill + again, that he would never recover plenitude of health. For days and days + he remained there in silence, with dark rings round his sleepy eyes, only + starting into wakefulness when Albine came to visit him. They would remain + face to face, gazing at one another sadly, and uttering but a few soft + words, which seemed to choke them. Albine’s eyes were even darker than + Serge’s, and were filled with an imploring gaze. + </p> + <p> + Then, after a week had gone by, Albine’s visit never lasted more than a + few minutes. She seemed to shun him. When she came to the room, she + appeared thoughtful, remained standing, and hurried off as soon as + possible. When he questioned her about this change in her demeanour + towards him, and reproached her for no longer being friendly, she turned + her head away and avoided replying. He never could get her to tell him how + she spent the mornings that she passed alone. She would only shake her + head, and talk about being very idle. If he pressed her more closely, she + bounded out of the room, just wishing him a hasty good-night as she + disappeared through the doorway. He often noticed, however, that she had + been crying. He observed, too, in her expression the phases of a hope that + was never fulfilled, the perpetual struggling of a desire eager to be + satisfied. Sometimes she seemed quite overwhelmed with melancholy, + dragging herself about with an air of utter discouragement, like one who + no longer had any pleasure in living. At other times she laughed lightly, + her face shone with an expression of triumphant hope, of which, however, + she would not yet speak, and her feet could not remain still, so eager was + she to dart away to what seemed to her some last certainty. But on the + following day, she would sink again into desperation, to soar afresh on + the morrow on the pinions of renewed hope. One thing which she could not + conceal from Serge was that she suffered from extreme lassitude. Even + during the few moments they spent together she could not prevent her head + from nodding, or keep herself from dozing off. + </p> + <p> + Serge, recognising that she was unwilling to reply, had ceased to question + her; and, when she now entered his room, he contented himself with casting + an anxious glance at her, fearful lest some evening she should no longer + have strength enough to come to him. Where could she thus reduce herself + to such exhaustion? What perpetual struggle was it that brought about + those alternations of joy and despair? One morning he started at the sound + of a light footfall beneath his window. It could not be a roe venturing + abroad in that manner. Moreover he could recognise that light footfall. + Albine was wandering about the Paradou without him. It was from the + Paradou that she returned to him with all those hopes and fears and inward + wrestlings, all that lassitude which was killing her. And he could well + guess what she was seeking out there, alone in the woody depths, with all + the silent obstinacy of a woman who has vowed to effect her purpose. After + that he used to listen for her steps. He dared not draw aside the curtain + and watch her as she hurried along through the trees; but he experienced + strange, almost painful emotion, in listening to ascertain what direction + she took, whether she turned to right or to left, whether she went + straight on through the flower-beds, and how far her ramble extended. + Amidst all the noisy life of the Paradou, amidst the soughing chorus of + the trees, the rustling of the streams, and the ceaseless songs of the + birds, he could distinguish the gentle pit-pat of her shoes so plainly + that he could have told whether she was stepping over the gravel near the + rivers, the crumbling mould of the forest, or the bare ledges of the + rocks. In time he even learned to tell, from the sound of her nervous + footfall, whether she came back hopeful or depressed. As soon as he heard + her step on the staircase, he hurried from the window, and he never let + her know that he had thus followed her from afar in her wanderings. But + she must have guessed it, for with a glance she always afterwards told him + where she had been. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay indoors, and don’t go out,’ he begged her, with clasped hands, one + morning when he saw her still unrecovered from the fatigue of the previous + day. ‘You drive me to despair.’ + </p> + <p> + But she hastened away in irritation. The garden, now that it rang with + Albine’s footfalls, seemed to have a more depressing influence than ever + upon Serge. The pit-pat of her feet was yet another voice that called him; + an imperious voice that echoed ever more and more loudly within him. He + closed his ears and tried to shut out the sound, but the distant footsteps + still echoed to him in the throbbings of his heart. And when she came + back, in the evening, it was the whole park that came back with her, with + the memories of their walks together, and of the slow dawn of their love, + in the midst of conniving nature. She seemed to have grown taller and + graver, mellowed, matured by her solitary rambles. There was nothing left + in her of the frolicsome child, and his teeth would suddenly set at times + when he looked at her and beheld her so desirable. + </p> + <p> + One day, about noon, Serge heard Albine returning in hot haste. He had + restrained himself from listening for her steps when she went away. + Usually, she did not return till late, and he was amazed at her + impetuosity as she sped along, forcing her way through the branches that + barred her path. As she passed beneath his window, he heard her laugh; and + as she mounted the stairway, she panted so heavily that he almost thought + he could feel her hot breath streaming against his face. She threw the + door wide open, and cried out: ‘I have found it!’ + </p> + <p> + Then she sat down and repeated softly, breathlessly: ‘I have found it! I + have found it!’ + </p> + <p> + Serge, distracted, laid his fingers on her lips, and stammered: ‘Don’t + tell me anything, I beg you. I want to know nothing of it. It will kill + me, if you speak.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she sank into silence with gleaming eyes and lips tightly pressed + lest the words she kept back should spring out in spite of her. And she + stayed in the room till evening, trying to meet Serge’s glance, and + imparting to him, each time that their eyes met, something of that which + she had discovered. Her whole face beamed with radiance, she exhaled a + delicious odour, she was full of life; and Serge felt that she permeated + him through all his senses. Despairingly did he struggle against this + gradual invasion of his being. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow she returned to his room as soon as she was up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t you going out?’ he asked, conscious that he would be vanquished + should she remain there. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ she said; she wasn’t going out any more. As by degrees she recovered + from her fatigue he felt her becoming stronger, more triumphant. She would + soon be able to take him by the hand and drag him to that spot, whose + charm her silence proclaimed so loudly. That day, however, she did not + speak; she contented herself with keeping him seated on a cushion at her + feet. It was not till the next morning that she ventured to say: ‘Why do + you shut yourself up here? It is so pleasant under the trees.’ + </p> + <p> + He rose from her feet, and stretched out his arms entreatingly. But she + laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, then, we won’t go out, since you would rather not.... But + this room has such a strange scent, and we should be much more comfortable + in the garden. It is very wrong of you to have taken such a dislike to + it.’ + </p> + <p> + He had again settled himself at her feet in silence, his eyelids lowered, + his features quivering with passionate emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘We won’t go out,’ she repeated, ‘so don’t worry. But do you really prefer + these pictures to the grass and flowers in the park? Do you remember all + we saw together? It is these paintings which make us feel so unhappy. They + are a nuisance, always looking and watching us as they do.’ + </p> + <p> + As Serge gradually leant more closely against her, she passed her arm + round his neck and laid his head upon her lap, while murmuring in yet a + lower tone: ‘There is a little corner there I know, where we might be so + very happy. Nothing would trouble us there; the fresh air would cool your + feverishness.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped, as she felt him quivering. She was afraid lest she might + again revive his old fears. But she gradually conquered him merely by the + caressing gaze of her blue eyes. His eyelids were now raised, and he + rested there quietly, wholly hers, his tremor past. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! if you only knew!’ she softly breathed; and seeing that he continued + to smile, she went on boldly: ‘It is all a lie; it is not forbidden. You + are a man now and ought not to be afraid. If we went there, and any danger + threatened me, you would protect me, you would defend me, would you not? + You could carry me off on your back, couldn’t you? I am never the least + afraid when I have you with me. Look how strong your arms have grown. What + is there for any one with such strong arms as yours to be afraid of?’ + </p> + <p> + She caressed him beguilingly as she spoke, stroking his hair and neck and + shoulders with her hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it is not forbidden,’ she resumed. ‘That is only a story for stupids, + and was invented, long ago, by some one who didn’t want to be disturbed in + the most charming spot in the whole garden. As soon as you sat down on + that grassy carpet, you would be happy and well again. Listen, then, come + with me.’ + </p> + <p> + He shook his head but without any sign of vexation, as though indeed he + liked thus being teased. Then after a short silence, grieved to see her + pouting, and longing for a renewal of her caresses, he opened his lips and + asked: ‘Where is it?’ + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him immediately. Her eyes seemed to be wandering far + away: ‘It is over yonder,’ she murmured at last. ‘I cannot explain to you + clearly. One has to go down the long avenue, and then to turn to the left, + and then again to the left. We must have passed it at least a score of + times. You might look for it for ever without finding it, if I didn’t go + with you to show you. I could find my way to it quite straight, though I + could never explain it to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And who took you there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. That morning the trees and plants seemed to drive me there. + The long branches pushed me on, the grass bent down before me invitingly, + the paths seemed to open expressly for me to take them. And I believe the + animals themselves helped to lead me there, for I saw a stag trotting on + before me as though he wanted me to follow; while a company of bullfinches + flitted on from tree to tree, and warned me with their cries whenever I + was about to take a wrong direction.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And is it very beautiful?’ + </p> + <p> + Again she did not reply. Deep ecstasy filled her eyes; at last, when she + was able to speak again, she said: ‘Ah! so beautiful, that I could never + tell you of it. I was so charmed that I was conscious only of some supreme + joy, which I could not name, falling from the leaves and slumbering amid + the grass. And I ran back here to take you along with me that I might not + be without you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she clasped her arms round his neck again, and entreated him + passionately, her lips almost pressed to his own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! you will come!’ she stammered; ‘you must come; you will make me so + miserable if you don’t. You can’t want me to be miserable.... And even if + you knew that you would die there, even if that shade should be fatal to + both of us, would you hesitate or cast a regretful look behind? We should + remain there, at the foot of the tree, and sleep on quietly for ever, in + one anther’s arms. Ah! would it not be bliss indeed?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes!’ he stammered, transported by her passionate entreaties. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we shall not die,’ she continued, raising her voice, and laughing + with the laugh which proclaims woman’s victory; ‘we shall live to love + each other. It is a tree of life, a tree whose shadow will make us + stronger, more perfect, more complete. You will see that all will now go + happily. Some blessed joy will assuredly descend on us from heaven! Will + you come?’ + </p> + <p> + His face paled, and his eyelids quivered, as though too powerful a light + were suddenly beating against them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you come? will you come?’ she cried again, yet more passionately, + and already half rising to her feet. + </p> + <p> + He sprang up and followed her, at first with tottering steps and then with + his arm thrown round her waist, as if he could endure no separation from + her. He went where she went, carried along in the warm fragrance that + streamed from her hair. And as he thus remained slightly in the rear, she + turned upon him a face so radiant with love, such tempting lips and eyes, + which so imperiously bade him follow, that he would have gone with her + anywhere, trusting and unquestioning, like a dog. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + They went down and out into the garden without the smile fading from + Serge’s face. All that he saw of the greenery around him was such as was + reflected in the clear depths of Albine’s eyes. As they approached, the + garden smiled and smiled again, a murmur of content sped from leaf to leaf + and from bough to bough to the furthest depths of the avenues. For days + and days the garden must have been hoping and expecting to see them thus, + clinging to one another, making their peace again with the trees and + searching for their lost love on the grassy banks. A solemn warning breath + sighed through the branches; the afternoon sky was drowsy with heat; the + plants raised their bowing heads to watch them pass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen,’ whispered Albine. ‘They drop into silence as we come near them; + but over yonder they are expecting us, they are telling each other the way + they must lead us.... I told you we should have no trouble about the + paths, the trees themselves will direct us with their spreading arms.’ + </p> + <p> + The whole park did, indeed, appear to be impelling them gently onward. In + their rear it seemed as if a barrier of brush-wood had bristled up to + prevent them from retracing their steps; while, in front of them, the + grassy lawns spread out so invitingly, that they glided along the soft + slopes, without thought of choosing their way. + </p> + <p> + ‘And the birds are coming with us, too,’ said Albine. ‘It is the tomtits + this time. Don’t you see them? They are skimming over the hedges, and they + stop at each turning to see that we don’t lose our way.’ Then she added: + ‘All the living things of the park are with us. Can’t you hear them? There + is a deep rustling close behind us. It is the birds in the trees, the + insects in the grass, the roebucks and the stags in the coppices, and even + the little fishes splashing the quiet water with their beating fins. Don’t + turn round, or you will frighten them. Ah! I am sure we have a rare train + behind us.’ + </p> + <p> + They still walked on, unfatigued. Albine spoke only to charm Serge with + the music of her voice, while Serge obeyed the slightest pressure of her + hand. They knew not what they passed, but they were certain that they were + going straight towards their goal. And as they went along, the garden + became gradually graver, more discreet; the soughing of the branches died + away, the streams hushed their plashing waters, the birds, the beasts, and + the insects fell into silence. All around them reigned solemn stillness. + </p> + <p> + Then Albine and Serge instinctively raised their heads. In front of them + they beheld a colossal mass of foliage; and, as they hesitated for a + moment, a roe, after gazing at them with its sweet soft eyes, bounded into + the thickets. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is there,’ said Albine. + </p> + <p> + She led the way, her face again turned towards Serge, whom she drew with + her, and they disappeared amid the quivering leaves, and all grew quiet + again. They were entering into delicious peace. + </p> + <p> + In the centre there stood a tree covered with so dense a foliage that one + could not recognise its species. It was of giant girth, with a trunk that + seemed to breathe like a living breast, and far-reaching boughs that + stretched like protecting arms around it. It towered up there beautiful, + strong, virile, and fruitful. It was the king of the garden, the father of + the forest, the pride of the plants, the beloved of the sun, whose + earliest and latest beams smiled daily on its crest. From its green vault + poured all the joys of creation: fragrance of flowers, music of birds, + gleams of golden light, wakeful freshness of dawn, slumbrous warmth of + evening twilight. So strong was the sap that it burst through the very + bark, bathing the tree with the powers of fruitfulness, making it the + symbol of earth’s virility. Its presence sufficed to give the clearing an + enchanting charm. The other trees built up around it an impenetrable wall, + which isolated it as in a sanctuary of silence and twilight. There was but + greenery there, not a scrap of sky, not a glimpse of horizon; nothing but + a swelling rotunda, draped with green silkiness of leaves, adorned below + with mossy velvet. And one entered, as into the liquid crystal of a + source, a greenish limpidity, a sheet of silver reposing beneath reflected + reeds. Colours, perfumes, sounds, quivers, all were vague, indeterminate, + transparent, steeped in a felicity amidst which everything seemed to faint + away. Languorous warmth, the glimmer of a summer’s night, as it fades on + the bare shoulder of some fair girl, a scarce perceptible murmur of love + sinking into silence, lingered beneath the motionless branches, unstirred + by the slightest zephyr. It was hymeneal solitude, a chamber where Nature + lay hidden in the embraces of the sun. + </p> + <p> + Albine and Serge stood there in an ecstasy of joy. As soon as the tree had + received them beneath its shade, they felt eased of all the anxious + disquiet which had so long distressed them. The fears which had made them + avoid each other, the fierce wrestling of spirit which had torn and + wounded them, without consciousness on their part of what they were really + contending against, vanished, and left them in perfect peace. Absolute + confidence, supreme serenity, now pervaded them, they yielded + unhesitatingly to the joy of being together in that lonely nook, so + completely hidden from the outside world. They had surrendered themselves + to the garden, they awaited in all calmness the behests of that tree of + life. It enveloped them in such ecstasy of love that the whole clearing + seemed to disappear from before their eyes, and to leave them wrapped in + an atmosphere of perfume. + </p> + <p> + ‘The air is like ripe fruit,’ murmured Albine. + </p> + <p> + And Serge whispered in his turn: ‘The grass seems so full of life and + motion, that I could almost think I was treading on your dress.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a kind of religious feeling which made them lower their voices. No + sentiment of curiosity impelled them to raise their heads and scan the + tree. The consciousness of its majesty weighed heavily upon them. With a + glance Albine asked whether she had overrated the enchantment of the + greenery, and Serge answered her with two tears that trickled down his + cheeks. The joy that filled them at being there could not be expressed in + words. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come,’ she whispered in his ear, in a voice that was softer than a sigh. + </p> + <p> + And she glided on in front of him, and seated herself at the very foot of + the tree. Then, with a fond smile, she stretched out her hands to him; + while he, standing before her, grasped them in his own with a responsive + smile. Then she drew him slowly towards her and he sank down by her side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! do you remember,’ he said, ‘that wall which seemed to have grown up + between us? Now there is nothing to keep us apart—you are not + unhappy now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ she answered; ‘very happy.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment they relapsed into silence whilst soft emotion stole over + them. Then Serge, caressing Albine, exclaimed: ‘Your face is mine; your + eyes, your mouth, your cheeks are mine. Your arms are mine, from your + shoulders to the tips of your nails. You are wholly mine.’ And as he spoke + he kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. He kissed her arms, with quick + short kisses, from her fingers to her shoulders. He poured upon her a rain + of kisses hot as a summer shower, deluging her cheeks, her forehead, her + lips, and her neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘But if you are mine, I am yours,’ said he; ‘yours for ever; for I now + well know that you are my queen, my sovereign, whom I must worship on + bended knee. I am here only to obey you, to lie at your feet, to + anticipate your wishes, to shelter you with my arms, to drive away + whatever might trouble your tranquillity. And you are my life’s goal. + Since I first awoke in this garden, you have ever been before me; I have + grown up that I might be yours. Ever, as my end, my reward, have I gazed + upon your grace. You passed in the sunshine with the sheen of your golden + hair; you were a promise that I should some day know all the mysteries and + necessities of creation, of this earth, of these trees, these waters, + these skies, whose last secret is yet unrevealed. I belong to you; I am + your slave; I will listen to you and obey you, with my lips upon your + feet.’ + </p> + <p> + He said this, bowed to the ground, adoring Woman. And Albine, full of + pride, allowed herself to be adored. She yielded her hands, her cheeks, + her lips, to Serge’s rapturous kisses. She felt herself indeed a queen as + she saw him, who was so strong, bending so humbly before her. She had + conquered him, and held him there at her mercy. With a single word she + could dispose of him. And that which helped her to recognise her + omnipotence was that she heard the whole garden rejoicing at her triumph, + with gradually swelling paeans of approval. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! if we could fly off together, if we could but die even, in one + another’s arms,’ faltered Serge, scarce able to articulate. But Albine had + strength enough to raise her finger as though to bid him listen. + </p> + <p> + It was the garden that had planned and willed it all. For weeks and weeks + it had been favouring and encouraging their passion, and at last, on that + supreme day, it had lured them to that spot, and now it became the Tempter + whose every voice spoke of love. From the flower-beds, amid the fragrance + of the languid blossoms, was wafted a soft sighing, which told of the + weddings of the roses, the love-joys of the violets; and never before had + the heliotropes sent forth so voluptuous a perfume. Mingled with the soft + air which arose from the orchard were all the exhalations of ripe fruit, + the vanilla of apricots, the musk of oranges, all the luscious aroma of + fruitfulness. From the meadows came fuller notes, the million sighs of the + sun-kissed grass, the multitudinous love-plaints of legions of living + things, here and there softened by the refreshing caresses of the + rivulets, on whose banks the very willows palpitated with desire. And the + forest proclaimed the mighty passion of the oaks. Through the high + branches sounded solemn music, organ strains like the nuptial marches of + the ashes and the birches, the hornbeams and the planes, while from the + bushes and the young coppices arose noisy mirth like that of youthful + lovers chasing one another over banks and into hollows amid much crackling + and snapping of branches. From afar, too, the faint breeze wafted the + sounds of the rocks splitting in their passion beneath the burning heat, + while near them the spiky plants loved in a tragic fashion of their own, + unrefreshed by the neighbouring springs, which themselves glowed with the + love of the passionate sun. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do they say?’ asked Serge, half swooning, as Albine pressed him to + her bosom. The voices of the Paradou were growing yet more distinct. The + animals, in their turn, joined in the universal song of nature. The + grasshoppers grew faint with the passion of their chants; the butterflies + scattered kisses with their beating wings. The amorous sparrows flew to + their mates; the rivers rippled over the loves of the fishes; whilst in + the depths of the forest the nightingales sent forth pearly, voluptuous + notes, and the stags bellowed their love aloud. Reptiles and insects, + every species of invisible life, every atom of matter, the earth itself + joined in the great chorus. It was the chorus of love and of nature—the + chorus of the whole wide world; and in the very sky the clouds were + radiant with rapture, as to those two children Love revealed the Eternity + of Life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <h3> + Albine and Serge smiled at one another. + </h3> + <p> + ‘I love you, Albine,’ said Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge, I love you,’ Albine answered. + </p> + <p> + And never before had those syllables ‘I love you’ had for them so supreme + a meaning. They expressed everything. Joy pervaded those young lovers, who + had attained to the fulness of life. They felt that they were now on a + footing of equality with the forces of the world; and with their happiness + mingled the placid conviction that they had obeyed the universal law. And + Serge seemed to have awakened to life, lion-like, to rule the whole far + expanse under the free heavens. His feet planted themselves more firmly on + the ground, his chest expanded, there was pride and confidence in his gait + and demeanour. He took Albine by the hands, she was trembling, and he was + obliged to support her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said; ‘you are she whom I love.’ + </p> + <p> + It was Albine now who had become the submissive one. She drooped her head + upon his shoulder, glancing up at him with anxious scrutiny. Would he + never bear her spite for that hour of adoration in which he had called + himself her slave? But he smiled, and stroked her hair, while she said to + him: ‘Let me stay like this, in your arms, for I cannot walk without you. + I will make myself so small and light, that you will scarcely know I am + there.’ Then becoming very serious she added, ‘You must always love me; + and I will be very obedient and do whatever you wish. I will yield to you + in all things if you but love me.’ + </p> + <p> + Serge felt more powerful and virile on seeing her so humble. ‘Why are you + trembling so?’ he asked her; ‘I can have no cause to reproach you.’ + </p> + <p> + But she did not answer him, she gazed almost sadly upon the tree and the + foliage and the grass around them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Foolish child!’ he said, laughing; ‘are you afraid that I shall be angry + with you for your love? We have loved as we were meant to love. Let me + kiss you.’ + </p> + <p> + But, dropping her eyelids so that she might not see the tree, she said, in + a low whisper, ‘Take me away!’ + </p> + <p> + Serge led her thence, pacing slowly and giving one last glance at the spot + which love had hallowed. The shadows in the clearing were growing darker, + and a gentle quiver coursed through the foliage. When they emerged from + the wood and caught sight of the sun, still shining brightly in the + horizon, they felt easier. Everything around Serge now seemed to bend down + before him and pay homage to his love. The garden was now nothing but an + appanage of Albine’s beauty, and seemed to have grown larger and fairer + amid the love-kisses of its rulers. + </p> + <p> + But Albine’s joy was still tinged with disquietude. She would suddenly + pause amid her laughter and listen anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter?’ asked Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing,’ she replied, casting furtive glances behind her. + </p> + <p> + They did not know in what out-of-the-way corner of the park they were. To + lose themselves in their capricious wanderings only served to amuse them + as a rule; but that day they experienced anxious embarrassment. By degrees + they quickened their pace, plunging more and more deeply into a labyrinth + of bushes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you hear?’ asked Albine, nervously, as she suddenly stopped short, + almost breathless. + </p> + <p> + Serge listened, a prey, in his turn, to the anxiety which the girl could + no longer conceal. + </p> + <p> + ‘All the coppice seems full of voices,’ she continued. ‘It sounds as + though there were people deriding us. Listen! Wasn’t that a laugh that + sounded from that tree? And over yonder did not the grass murmur something + as my dress brushed against it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ he said, anxious to reassure her, ‘the garden loves us; and, if + it said anything, it would not be to vex or annoy us. Don’t you remember + all the sweet words which sounded through the leaves? You are nervous and + fancy things.’ + </p> + <p> + But she shook her head and faltered: ‘I know very well that the garden is + our friend.... So it must be some one who has broken into it. I am certain + I hear some one. I am trembling all over. Oh! take me away and hide me + somewhere, I beseech you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then they went on again, scanning every tree and bush, and imagining that + they could see faces peering at them from behind every trunk. Albine was + certain, she said, that there were steps pursuing them in the distance. + ‘Let us hide ourselves,’ she begged. + </p> + <p> + She had turned quite scarlet. It was new-born modesty, a sense of shame + which had laid hold of her like a fever, mantling over the snowy whiteness + of her skin, which never previously had known that flush. Serge was + alarmed at seeing her thus crimson, her face full of distress, her eyes + brimming with tears. He tried to clasp her in his arms again and to soothe + her with a caress; but she slipped away from him, and, with a despairing + gesture, made sign that they were not alone. And her blushes grew deeper + as her eyes fell upon her bare arms. She shuddered when her loose hanging + hair stirred against her neck and shoulders. The slightest touch of a + waving bough or a passing insect, the softest breath of air, now made her + tremble as if some invisible hand were grasping at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Calm yourself,’ begged Serge, ‘there is no one. You are as crimson as + though you had a fever. Let us rest here for a moment. Do; I beg you.’ + </p> + <p> + She had no fever at all, she said, but she wanted to get back as quickly + as possible, so that no one might laugh at her. And, ever increasing her + pace, she plucked handfuls of leaves and tendrils from the hedges, which + she entwined about her. She fastened a branch of mulberry over her hair, + twisted bindweed round her arms, and tied it to her wrists, and circled + her neck with such long sprays of laurustinus, that her bosom was hidden + as by a veil of leaves. + </p> + <p> + And that shame of hers proved contagious. Serge, who first had jested, + asking her if she were going to a ball, glanced at himself, and likewise + felt alarmed and ashamed, to a point that he also wound foliage about his + person. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, they could discover no way out of the labyrinth of bushes, but + all at once, at the end of the path, they found themselves face to face + with an obstacle, a tall, grey, grave mass of stone. It was the wall of + the Paradou. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come away! come away!’ cried Albine. + </p> + <p> + And she sought to drag him thence; but they had not taken another twenty + steps before they again came upon the wall. They then skirted it at a ran, + panic-stricken. It stretched along, gloomy and stern, without a break in + its surface. But suddenly, at a point where it fringed a meadow, it seemed + to fall away. A great breach gaped in it, like a huge window of light + opening on to the neighbouring valley. It must have been the very hole + that Albine had one day spoken of, which she said she had blocked up with + brambles and stones. But the brambles now lay scattered around like + severed bits of rope, the stones had been thrown some distance away, and + the breach itself seemed to have been enlarged by some furious hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <p> + ‘Ah! I felt sure of it,’ cried Albine, in accents of supreme despair. ‘I + begged you to take me away—Serge, I beseech you, don’t look through + it.’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge, in spite of himself, stood rooted to the ground, on the + threshold of the breach through which he gazed. Down below, in the depths + of the valley, the setting sun cast a sheet of gold upon the village of + Les Artaud, which showed vision-like amidst the twilight in which the + neighbouring fields were already steeped. One could plainly distinguish + the houses that straggled along the high road; the little yards with their + dunghills, and the narrow gardens planted with vegetables. Higher up, the + tall cypress in the graveyard reared its dusky silhouette, and the red + tiles on the church glowed brazier-like, the dark bell looking down on + them like a human face, while the old parsonage at the side threw its + doors and windows open to the evening air. + </p> + <p> + ‘For pity’s sake,’ sobbed Albine, ‘don’t look out, Serge. Remember that + you promised you would always love me. Ah! will you ever love me enough, + now? Stay, let me cover your eyes with my hands. You know it was my hands + that cured you. You won’t push me away.’ + </p> + <p> + But he put her from him gently. Then, while she fell down and clung to his + legs, he passed his hands across his face, as though he were wiping from + his brow and eyes some last lingering traces of sleep. It was yonder, + then, that lay the unknown world, the strange land of which he had never + dreamed without vague fear. Where had he seen that country? From what + dream was he awakening, that he felt such keen anguish swelling up in his + breast till it almost choked him? The village was breaking out into life + at the close of the day’s work. The men were coming home from the fields + with weary gait, their jackets thrown over their shoulders; the women, + standing by their doors, were beckoning to them to hasten on; while the + children, in noisy bands, chased the fowls about and pelted them with + stones. In the churchyard a couple of scapegraces, a lad and a girl, were + creeping along under the shelter of the wall in order to escape notice. + Swarms of sparrows were retiring to roost beneath the eaves of the church; + and, on the steps of the parsonage, a blue calico skirt had just appeared, + of such spreading dimensions as to quite block the doorway. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! he is looking out! he is looking out!’ sobbed Albine. ‘Listen to me. + It was only just now that you promised to obey me. I beg of you to turn + round and to look upon the garden. Haven’t you been very happy in the + garden? It was the garden which gave me to you. Think of the happy days it + has in store for us, what lasting bliss and enjoyment. Instead of which it + will be death that will force its way through that hole, if you don’t + quickly flee and take me with you. See, all those people yonder will come + and thrust themselves between us. We were so quite alone, so secluded, so + well guarded by the trees! Oh! the garden is our love! Look on the garden, + I beg it of you on my knees!’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge was quivering. He had began to recollect. The past was + re-awakening. He could distinctly hear the stir of the village life. Those + peasants, those women and children, he knew them. There was the mayor, + Bambousse, returning from Les Olivettes, calculating how much the + approaching vintage would yield him; there were the Brichets, the husband + crawling along, and the wife moaning with misery. There was Rosalie + flirting with big Fortune behind a wall. He recognised also the pair in + the churchyard, that mischievous Vincent and that bold hussy Catherine, + who were catching big grasshoppers amongst the tombstones. Yes, and they + had Voriau, the black dog, with them, helping them and ferreting about in + the dry grass, and sniffing at every crack in the old stones. Under the + eaves of the church the sparrows were twittering and bickering before + going to roost. The boldest of them flew down and entered the church + through the broken windows, and, as Serge followed them with his eyes, he + recollected all the noise they had formerly made below the pulpit and on + the step by the altar rails, where crumbs were always put for them. And + that was La Teuse yonder, on the parsonage doorstep, looking fatter than + ever in her blue calico dress. She was turning her head to smile at + Desirée, who was coming up from the yard, laughing noisily. Then they both + vanished indoors, and Serge, distracted with all these revived memories, + stretched out his arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all over now,’ faltered Albine, as she sank down amongst the broken + brambles. ‘You will never love me enough again.’ + </p> + <p> + She wept, while Serge stood rooted by the breach, straining his ears to + catch the slightest sound that might be wafted from the village, waiting, + as it were, for some voice that might fully awaken him. The bell in the + church-tower had begun to sway, and slowly through the quiet evening air + the three chimes of the <i>Angelus</i> floated up to the Paradou. It was a + soft and silvery summons. The bell now seemed to be alive. + </p> + <p> + ‘O God!’ cried Serge, falling on his knees, quite overcome by the emotion + which the soft notes of the bell had excited in him. + </p> + <p> + He bent down towards the ground, and he felt the three peals of the <i>Angelus</i> + pass over his neck and echo through his heart. The voice of the bell + seemed to grow louder. It was raised again sternly, pitilessly, for a few + moments which seemed to him to be years. It summoned up before him all his + old life, his pious childhood, his happy days at the seminary, and his + first Masses in that burning valley of Les Artaud, where he had dreamt of + a solitary, saintly life. He had always heard it speaking to him as it was + doing now. He recognised every inflection of that sacred voice, which had + so constantly fallen upon his ears, like the grave and gentle voice of a + mother. Why had he so long ceased to hear it? In former times it had + promised him the coming of Mary. Had Mary come then and taken him and + carried him off into those happy green fastnesses, which the sound of the + bell could not reach? He would never have lapsed into forgetfulness if the + bell had not ceased to ring. And as he bent his head still lower towards + the earth, the contact of his beard with his hands made him start. He + could not recognise his own self with that long silky beard. He twisted it + and fumbled about in his hair seeking for the bare circle of the tonsure, + but a heavy growth of curls now covered his whole head from his brow to + the nape of his neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! you were right,’ he said, casting a look of despair at Albine. ‘It + was forbidden. We have sinned, and we have merited some terrible + punishment.... But I, indeed, I tried to reassure you, I did not hear the + threats which sounded in your ears through the branches.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine tried to clasp him in her arms again as she sobbed out, ‘Get up, + and let us escape together. Perhaps even yet there is time for us to love + each other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; I haven’t the strength. I should stumble and fall over the + smallest pebble in the path. Listen to me. I am afraid of myself. I know + not what man dwells in me. I have murdered myself, and my hands are red + with blood. If you took me away, you would never see aught in my eyes save + tears.’ + </p> + <p> + She kissed his wet eyes, as she answered passionately, ‘No matter! Do you + love me?’ + </p> + <p> + He was too terrified to answer her. A heavy step set the pebbles rolling + on the other side of the wall. A growl of anger seemed to draw nigh. + Albine had not been mistaken. Some one was, indeed, there, disturbing the + woodland quiet with jealous inquisition. Then both Albine and Serge, as if + overwhelmed with shame, sought to bide themselves behind a bush. But + Brother Archangias, standing in front of the breach, could already see + them. + </p> + <p> + The Brother remained for a moment silent, clenching his fists and looking + at Albine clinging round Serge’s neck, with the disgust of a man who has + espied some filth by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suspected it,’ he mumbled between his teeth. ‘It was virtually certain + that they had hidden him here.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he took a few steps, and cried out: ‘I see you. It is an abomination. + Are you a brute beast to go coursing through the woods with that female? + She has led you far astray, has she not? She has besmeared you with filth, + and now you are hairy like a goat.... Pluck a branch from the trees + wherewith to smite her on the back.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Albine whispered in an ardent, prayerful voice: ‘Do you love me? Do + you love me?’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge, with bowed head, kept silence, though he did not yet drive her + from him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fortunately, I have found you,’ continued Brother Archangias. ‘I + discovered this hole.... You have disobeyed God, and have slain your own + peace. Henceforward, for ever, temptation will gnaw you with its fiery + tooth, and you will no longer have ignorance of evil to help you to fight + it. It was that creature who tempted you to your fall, was it not? Do you + not see the serpent’s tail writhing amongst her hair? The mere sight of + her shoulders is sufficient to make one vomit with disgust.... Leave her. + Touch her not, for she is the beginning of hell. In the name of God, come + forth from that garden.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you love me? Oh! do you love me?’ reiterated Albine. + </p> + <p> + But Serge hastily drew away from her as though her bare arms and shoulders + really scorched him. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the name of God! In the name of God!’ cried the Brother, in a voice of + thunder. + </p> + <p> + Serge unresistingly stepped towards the breach. As soon as Brother + Archangias, with rough violence, had dragged him out of the Paradou, + Albine, who had fallen half fainting to the ground, with hands wildly + stretched towards the love which was deserting her, rose up again, choking + with sobs. And she fled, vanished into the midst of the trees, whose + trunks she lashed with her streaming hair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + When Abbé Mouret had said the <i>Pater</i>, he bowed to the altar, and + went to the Epistle side. Then he came down, and made the sign of the + cross over big Fortune and Rosalie, who were kneeling, side by side, + before the altar-rails. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Ego conjungo vos in matrimonium, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et + Spiritus Sancti</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Amen</i>,’ responded Vincent, who was serving the mass, and glancing + curiously at his big brother out of the corner of his eye. + </p> + <p> + Fortune and Rosalie bent their heads, affected by some slight emotion, + although they had nudged each other with their elbows when they knelt + down, by way of making one another laugh. But Vincent went to get the + basin and the sprinkler. Fortune placed the ring in the basin, a thick + ring of solid silver. When the priest had blessed it, sprinkling it + crosswise, he returned it to Fortune, who slipped it upon Rosalie’s + finger. Her hand was still discoloured with grass-stains, which soap had + not been able to remove. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti</i>,’ Abbé Mouret + murmured again, giving them a final benediction. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Amen</i>,’ responded Vincent. + </p> + <p> + It was early morning. The sun was not yet shining through the big windows + of the church. Outside one could hear the noisy twittering of the sparrows + in the branches of the service tree, whose foliage shot through the broken + panes. La Teuse, who had not previously had time to clean the church, was + now dusting the altar, craning up on her sound leg to wipe the feet of the + ochre and lake-bedaubed Christ, and arranging the chairs as quietly as + possible; all the while bowing and crossing herself, and following the + service, but not omitting a single sweep of her feather broom. Quite + alone, at the foot of the pulpit, was mother Brichet, praying in a very + demonstrative fashion. She kept on her knees, and repeated the prayers in + so loud a whisper that it seemed as if a swarm of bluebottles had taken + possession of the nave. + </p> + <p> + At the other end of the church near the confessional, Catherine held an + infant in swaddling clothes. As it began to cry, she turned her back upon + the altar, and tossed it up, and amused it with the bell-rope, which + dangled just over its nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Dominus vobiscum</i>,’ said the priest, turning round, and spreading + out his hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Et cum spiritu tuo</i>,’ responded Vincent. + </p> + <p> + At that moment three big girls came into the church. They were too shy to + go far up, though they jostled one another to get a better view of what + was going on. They were three friends of Rosalie, who had dropped in for a + minute or two on their way to the fields, curious as they were to hear + what his reverence would say to the bride and bridegroom. They had big + scissors hanging at their waists. At last they hid themselves behind the + font, where they pinched each other and twisted themselves about, while + trying to choke their bursts of laughter with their clenched fists. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ whispered La Rousse, a finely built girl, with copper-coloured + skin and hair, ‘there won’t be any scrimmage to get out of church when + it’s all over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! old Bambousse is quite right,’ murmured Lisa, a short dark girl, with + gleaming eyes; ‘when one has vines, one looks after them. Since his + reverence so particularly desired to marry Rosalie, he can very well do it + all alone.’ + </p> + <p> + The other girl, Babet, who was humpbacked, tittered. ‘There’s mother + Brichet,’ she said; ‘she is always here. She prays for the whole family. + Listen, do you hear how she’s buzzing? All that will mean something in her + pocket. She knows very well what she is about, I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is playing the organ for them,’ retorted La Rousse. + </p> + <p> + At this all three burst into a laugh. La Teuse, in the distance, + threatened them with her broom. At the altar, Abbé Mouret was taking the + sacrament. As he went from the Epistle side towards Vincent, so that the + water of ablution might be poured upon his thumb and fore-finger, Lisa + said more softly: ‘It’s nearly over. He will begin to talk to them + directly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said La Rousse, ‘and so big Fortune will still be able to go to his + work, and Rosalie won’t lose her day’s pay at the vintage. It is very + convenient to be married so early in the morning. He looks very sheepish, + that big Fortune.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ murmured Babet. ‘It tires him, keeping so long on his knees. + You may be sure that he has never knelt so long since his first + communion.’ + </p> + <p> + But the girls’ attention was suddenly distracted by the baby which + Catherine was dangling in her arms. It wanted to get hold of the + bell-rope, and was quite blue with rage, frantically stretching out its + little hands and almost choking itself with crying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! so the youngster is there,’ said La Rousse. + </p> + <p> + The baby now burst into still louder wailing, and struggled like a little + Imp. + </p> + <p> + ‘Turn it over on its stomach, and let it suck,’ said Babet to Catherine. + </p> + <p> + Catherine lifted up her head, and began to laugh, with the shamelessness + of a little minx. ‘It’s not at all amusing,’ she said, giving the baby a + shake. ‘Be quiet, will you, little pig! My sister plumped it down on my + knees.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Naturally,’ said Babet, mischievously. ‘You could scarcely have expected + her to give the brat to Monsieur le Curé to nurse.’ + </p> + <p> + At this sally, La Rousse almost fell over in a fit of laughter. She leaned + against the wall, holding her sides with her hands. Lisa threw herself + against her, and attempted to soothe her by pinching her back and + shoulders; while Babet laughed with a hunchback’s laugh, which grated on + the ear like the sound of a saw. + </p> + <p> + ‘If it hadn’t been for the little one,’ she continued, ‘Monsieur le Curé + would have lost all use for his holy water. Old Bambousse had made up his + mind to marry Rosalie to young Laurent, of Figuieres.’ + </p> + <p> + However, the girls’ merriment and their chatter now came to an end, for + they saw La Teuse limping furiously towards them. At this the three big + hussies felt alarmed, stepped back, and subsided into sedateness. + </p> + <p> + ‘You worthless things!’ hissed La Teuse. ‘You come to talk a lot of filth + here, do you? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, La Rousse? You ought to be + there, on your knees, before the altar, like Rosalie. I will throw you + outside if you stir again. Do you hear?’ + </p> + <p> + La Rousse’s copper cheeks were tinged with a rising blush, and Babet + glanced at her and tittered. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you,’ continued La Teuse, turning towards Catherine, ‘just you leave + that baby alone. You are pinching it on purpose to make it scream. Don’t + tell me you are not. Give it to me.’ + </p> + <p> + She took the child, hushed it in her arms for a moment, and then laid it + upon a chair, where it went to sleep, peacefully like a cherub. The church + then subsided into solemn quietness, disturbed only by the chattering of + the sparrows on the rowan tree outside. At the altar, Vincent had carried + the missal to the right again, and Abbé Mouret had just folded the + corporal and slipped it within the burse. He was now saying the concluding + prayers with a solemn earnestness, which neither the screams of the baby + nor the giggling of the three girls had been able to disturb. He seemed to + hear nothing of them, but to be wholly absorbed in the prayers which he + was offering up to Heaven for the happiness of the pair whose union he had + just blessed. The sky that morning was grey with a hazy heat, which veiled + the sun. Through the broken windows a russet vapour streamed into the + church, betokening a stormy day. Along the walls the gaudily coloured + pictures of the Stations of the Cross displayed their red, blue, and + yellow patches; at the bottom of the nave the dry woodwork of the gallery + creaked and strained; and under the doorway the tall grass by the steps + thrust ripening straw, all alive with little brown grasshoppers. The + clock, in its wooden case, made a whirring noise, as though it were some + consumptive trying to clear his throat, and then huskily struck half-past + six. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Ite, missa est</i>,’ said the priest, turning round to the + congregation. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Deo gratias</i>,’ responded Vincent. + </p> + <p> + Then, having kissed the altar, Abbé Mouret once more turned round, and + murmured over the bent heads of the newly married pair the final + benediction: ‘<i>Deus Abraham, Deus Isaac, et Deus Jacob vobiscum sit</i>’—his + voice dying away into a gentle whisper. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, he’s going to address them,’ said Babet to her friends. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is very pale,’ observed Lisa. ‘He isn’t a bit like Monsieur Caffin, + whose fat face always seemed to be on the laugh. My little sister Rose + says that she daren’t tell him anything when she goes to confess.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the same,’ murmured La Rousse, ‘he’s not ugly. His illness has aged + him a little, but it seems to suit him. He has bigger eyes, and lines at + the corners of his mouth which make him look like a man. Before he had the + fever, he was too much like a girl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe he’s got some great trouble,’ said Babet. ‘He looks as though + he were pining away. His face is deadly pale, but how his eyes glitter! + When he drops his eyelids, it is just as though he were doing it to + extinguish the fire in his eyes.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse again shook her broom at them. ‘Hush!’ she hissed out, so + energetically that it seemed as if a blast of wind had burst into the + church. + </p> + <p> + Meantime Abbé Mouret had collected himself, and he began, in a rather low + voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear brother, my dear sister, you are joined together in Jesus. The + institution of marriage symbolises the sacred union between Jesus and His + Church. It is a bond which nothing can break; which God wills shall be + eternal, so that man may not sever those whom Heaven has joined. In making + you flesh of each other’s flesh, and bone of each other’s bone, God + teaches you that it is your duty to walk side by side through life, a + faithful couple, along the paths which He, in His omnipotence, appoints + for you. And you must love each other with God-like love. The slightest + ill-feeling between you will be disobedience to the Creator, Who has + joined you together as a single body. Remain, then, for ever united, after + the likeness of the Church, which Jesus has espoused, in giving to us all + His body and blood.’ + </p> + <p> + Big Fortune and Rosalie sat listening, with their noses peaked up + inquisitively. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does he say?’ asked Lisa, who was a little deaf. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! he says what they all say,’ answered La Rousse. ‘He has a glib + tongue, like all the priests have.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret went on with his address, his eyes wandering over the heads of + the newly wedded couple towards a shadowy corner of the church. And by + degrees his voice became more flexible, and he put emotion into the words + he spoke, words which he had formerly learned by heart from a manual + intended for the use of young priests. He had turned slightly towards + Rosalie, and whenever his memory failed him, he added sentences of his + own: + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear sister, submit yourself to your husband, as the Church submits + itself to Jesus. Remember that you must leave everything to follow him, + like a faithful handmaiden. You must give up father and mother, you must + cleave only to your husband, and you must obey him that you may obey God + also. And your yoke will be a yoke of love and peace. Be his comfort, his + happiness, the perfume of his days of strength, the support of his days of + weakness. Let him find you, as a grace, ever by his side. Let him have but + to reach out his hand to find yours grasping it. It is thus that you will + step along together, never losing your way, and that you will meet with + happiness in the carrying out of the divine laws. Oh! my dear sister, my + dear daughter, your humility will hear sweet fruit; it will give birth to + all the domestic virtues, to the joys of the hearth, and the prosperity + that attends a God-fearing family. Have for your husband the love of + Rachel, the wisdom of Rebecca, the constant fidelity of Sarah. Tell + yourself that a pure life is the source of all happiness. Pray to God each + morning that He may give you strength to live as a woman who respects her + responsibilities and duties; for the punishment you would otherwise incur + is terrible: you would lose your love. Oh! to live loveless, to tear flesh + from flesh, to belong no more to the one who is half of your very self, to + live on in pain and agony, bereft of the one you have loved! In vain would + you stretch out your arms to him; he would turn away from you. You would + yearn for happiness, but you would find in your heart nothing but shame + and bitterness. Hear me, my daughter, it is in your own conduct, in your + obedience, in your purity, in your love, that God has established the + strength of your union.’ + </p> + <p> + As Abbé Mouret spoke these words, there was a burst of laughter at the + other end of the church. The baby had just woke up on the chair where La + Teuse had laid it. But it was no longer in a bad temper. Having kicked + itself free of its swaddling clothes, it was laughing merrily, and shaking + its rosy little feet in the air. It was the sight of these little feet + that made it laugh. + </p> + <p> + Rosalie, who was beginning to find the priest’s address rather tedious, + turned her head to smile at the child. But, when she saw it kicking about + on the chair, she grew alarmed, and cast an angry look at Catherine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! you can look at me as much as you like,’ said Catherine. ‘I’m not + going to take it any more. It would only begin to cry again.’ + </p> + <p> + And she turned aside to ferret in an ant-hole at a corner of one of the + stone flags under the gallery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur Caffin didn’t talk so long,’ now remarked La Rousse. ‘When he + married Miette, he just gave her two taps on the cheek and told her to be + good.’ + </p> + <p> + My dear brother,’ resumed Abbé Mouret, turning towards big Fortune, ‘it is + God who, to-day, gives you a companion, for He does not wish that man + should live alone. But, if He ordains that she shall be your servant, He + demands from you that you shall be to her a master full of gentleness and + love. You will love her, because she is part of your own flesh, of your + own blood, and your own bone. You will protect her, because God has given + you strong arms only that you may stretch them over her head in the hour + of danger. Remember that she is entrusted to you, and that you cannot + abuse her submission and weakness without sin. Oh! my dear brother, what + proud happiness should be yours! Henceforth, you will no longer live in + the selfish egotism of solitude. At all hours you will have a lovable duty + before you. There is nothing better than to love, unless it be to protect + those whom we love. Your heart will expand; your manly strength will + increase a hundredfold. Oh! to be a support and stay, to have a love given + into your keeping, to see a being sink her existence in yours and say, + “Take me and do with me what you will! I trust myself wholly to you!” And + may you be accursed if you ever abandon her! It would be a cowardly + desertion which God would assuredly punish. From the moment she gives + herself to you, she becomes yours for ever. Carry her rather in your arms, + and set her not upon the ground until it be certain that she will be there + in safety. Give up everything, my dear brother—’ + </p> + <p> + But here the Abbé’s voice faltered, and only an indistinct murmur came + from his lips. He had quite closed his eyes, his face was deathly white, + and his voice betokened such deep distress that big Fortune himself shed + tears without knowing why. + </p> + <p> + ‘He hasn’t recovered yet,’ said Lisa. ‘It is wrong of him to fatigue + himself. See, there’s Fortune crying!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Men are softer-hearted than women,’ murmured Babet. + </p> + <p> + ‘He spoke very well, all the same,’ remarked La Rousse. ‘Those priests + think of a lot of things that wouldn’t occur to anybody else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ cried La Teuse, who was already making ready to extinguish the + candles. + </p> + <p> + But Abbé Mouret still stammered on, trying to utter a few more sentences. + ‘It is for this reason, my dear brother, my dear sister, that you must + live in the Catholic Faith, which alone can ensure the peace of your + hearth. Your families have taught you to love God, to pray to Him every + morning and evening, to look only for the gifts of His mercy—’ + </p> + <p> + He was unable to finish. He turned round, took the chalice off the altar, + and retired, with bowed head, into the vestry, preceded by Vincent, who + almost let the cruets and napkin fall, in trying to see what Catherine + might be doing at the end of the church. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! the heartless creature!’ said Rosalie, who left her husband to go and + take her baby in her arms. The child laughed. She kissed it, and + rearranged its swaddling clothes, while threatening Catherine with her + fist. ‘If it had fallen,’ she cried out, ‘I would have boxed your ears for + you, nicely.’ + </p> + <p> + Big Fortune now came slouching along. The three girls stepped towards him, + with compressed lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘See how proud he is,’ murmured Babet to the others. ‘He is sure of + inheriting old Bambousse’s money now. I used to see him creeping along + every night under the little wall with Rosalie.’ + </p> + <p> + Then they giggled, and big Fortune, standing there in front of them, + laughed even louder than they did. He pinched La Rousse, and let Lisa jeer + at him. He was a sturdy young blood, and cared nothing for anybody. The + priest’s address had annoyed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hallo! mother, come on!’ he called in his loud voice. But mother Brichet + was begging at the vestry door. She stood there, tearful and wizen, before + La Teuse, who was slipping some eggs into the pocket of her apron. Fortune + didn’t seem to feel the least sense of shame. He just winked and remarked: + ‘She is a knowing old card, my mother is. But then the Curé likes to see + people at mass.’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Rosalie had grown calm again. Before leaving the church, she + asked Fortune if he had begged the priest to come and bless their room, + according to the custom of the country. So Fortune ran off to the vestry, + striding heavily through the church, as if it were a field. He soon + reappeared, shouting that his reverence would come. La Teuse, who was + scandalised at the noise made by all these people, who seemed to think + themselves in a public street, gently clapped her hands, and pushed them + towards the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all over,’ said she; ‘go away and get to your work.’ + </p> + <p> + She thought they had all gone, when her eye caught sight of Catherine, + whom Vincent had joined. They were bending anxiously over the ants’ nest. + Catherine was poking a long straw into the hole so roughly, that a swarm + of frightened ants had rushed out upon the floor. Vincent declared, + however, that she must get her straw right to the bottom if she wished to + find the queen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! you young imps!’ cried La Teuse, ‘what are you after there? Can’t you + leave the poor little things alone? That is Mademoiselle Desirée’s ants’ + nest. She would be nicely pleased if she saw you!’ + </p> + <p> + At this the children promptly took to their heels. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, now wearing his cassock but still bareheaded, had come back + to kneel at the foot of the altar. In the grey light that streamed through + the window, his tonsure showed like a large livid spot amidst his hair; + and a slight quiver, as if from cold, sped down his neck. With his hands + tightly clasped he was praying earnestly, so absorbed in his devotions + that he did not hear the heavy footsteps of La Teuse, who hovered around + without daring to disturb him. She seemed to be grieved at seeing him + bowed down there on his knees. For a moment, she thought that he was in + tears, and thereupon she went behind the altar to watch him. Since his + return, she had never liked to leave him in the church alone, for one + evening she had found him lying in a dead faint upon the flagstones, with + icy lips and clenched teeth, like a corpse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, mademoiselle!’ she said to Desirée, who was peeping through the + vestry-doorway. ‘He is still here, and he will lay himself up. You know + you are the only person that he will listen to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is breakfast-time,’ she replied softly, ‘and I am very hungry.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she gently sidled up to the priest, passed an arm round his neck, and + kissed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning, brother,’ she said. ‘Do you want to make me die of hunger + this morning?’ + </p> + <p> + The face he turned upon her was so intensely sad, that she kissed him + again on both his cheeks. He was emerging from agony. Then, on recognising + her, he tried to put her from him, but she kept hold of one of his hands + and would not release it. She would scarcely allow him to cross himself, + but insisted upon leading him away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come! Come! for I am very hungry. You must be hungry too.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse had laid out the breakfast beneath two big mulberry trees, whose + spreading branches formed a sheltering roof at the bottom of the little + garden. The sun, which had at last succeeded in dissipating the + stormy-looking vapours of early morning, was warming the beds of + vegetables, while the mulberry-trees cast a broad shadow over the rickety + table, on which were laid two cups of milk and some thick slices of bread. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see how nice it looks,’ said Desirée, delighted at breakfasting in + the fresh air. + </p> + <p> + She was already cutting some of the bread into strips, which she ate with + eager appetite. And as she saw La Teuse still standing in front of them, + she said, ‘Why don’t you eat something?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall, presently,’ the old servant answered. ‘My soup is warming.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, after a moment’s silence, looking with admiration at the girl’s big + bites, she said to the priest: ‘It is quite a pleasure to see her. Doesn’t + she make you feel hungry, Monsieur le Curé? You should force yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret smiled as he glanced at his sister. ‘Yes, yes,’ he murmured; + ‘she gets on famously, she grows fatter every day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s because I eat,’ said Desirée. ‘If you would eat you would get fat, + too. Are you ill again? You look very melancholy. I don’t want to have it + all over again, you know. I was so very lonely when they took you away to + cure you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is right,’ said La Teuse. ‘You don’t behave reasonably, Monsieur le + Curé. You can’t expect to be strong, living, as you do, on two or three + crumbs a day, as though you were a bird. You don’t make blood; and that’s + why you are so pale. Don’t you feel ashamed of keeping as thin as a lath + when we are so fat; we who are only women? People will begin to think that + we gobble up everything and leave you nothing but the empty plates.’ + </p> + <p> + Then both La Teuse and Desirée, brimful of health and strength, scolded + him affectionately. His eyes seemed very large and bright, but empty, + expressionless. He was still gently smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not ill,’ he said; ‘I have nearly finished my milk.’ He had + swallowed two mouthfuls of it, but had not touched the bread. + </p> + <p> + ‘The animals, now,’ said Desirée, thoughtfully, ‘seem to get on much more + comfortably than we do. The fowls never have headaches, have they? The + rabbits grow as fat as ever one wants them to be. And you never saw my pig + looking sad.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, turning towards her brother, she went on with an air of rapture: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have named it Matthew, because it is so like that fat man who brings + the letters. It is growing so big and strong. It is very unkind of you to + refuse to come and look at it as you always do. You will come to see it + some day, won’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + While she was thus talking she had laid hold of her brother’s share of + bread, and was eating away at it. She had already finished one piece, and + was beginning the second, when La Teuse became aware of what she was + doing. + </p> + <p> + ‘That doesn’t belong to you, that bread! You are actually stealing his + food from him now!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let her have it,’ said Abbé Mouret, gently. ‘I shouldn’t have touched it + myself. Eat it all, my dear, eat it all.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment Desirée fell into confusion, with her eyes fixed upon the + bread, whilst she struggled to check her rising tears. Then she began to + laugh, and finished the slice. + </p> + <p> + ‘My cow,’ said she, continuing her remarks, ‘is never as sad as you are. + You were not here when uncle Pascal gave her to me, on the promise that I + would be a good girl, or you would have seen how pleased she was when I + kissed her for the first time.’ + </p> + <p> + She paused to listen. A cock crowed in the yard, and a great uproar + followed, with flapping of wings and cackling, grunting, and hoarse cries + as if the whole yard were in a state of commotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! you know,’ resumed Desirée, clapping her hands, ‘she must be in calf + now. I took her to the bull at Beage, three leagues from here. There are + very few bulls hereabouts, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse shrugged her shoulders, and glanced at the priest with an + expression of annoyance. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be much better, mademoiselle,’ said she, ‘if you were to go and + quiet your fowls. They all seem to be murdering one another.’ + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the uproar in the yard had now become so great that the girl was + already hurrying off with a great rustling of her petticoats, when the + priest called her back. ‘The milk, my dear; you have not finished the + milk.’ + </p> + <p> + He held out his cup to her, which he had scarcely touched. And she came + back and drank the milk without the slightest scruple, in spite of La + Teuse’s angry look. Then she again set off for the poultry-yard, where + they soon heard her reducing the fowls to peace and order. She had, + perhaps, sat down in the midst of them, for she could be heard gently + humming as though she were trying to lull them to sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + ‘Now my soup is too hot!’ grumbled La Teuse, as she returned from the + kitchen with a basin, from which a wooden spoon was projecting. + </p> + <p> + She placed herself just in front of Abbé Mouret, and began to eat very + cautiously from the edge of the spoon. She wanted to enliven the Abbé and + to draw him out of his melancholy moodiness. Ever since he had returned + from the Paradou, he had declared himself well again, and had never + complained. Often, indeed, he smiled in so soft and sweet a fashion, that + his fever seemed to have increased his saintliness, at least so thought + the villagers. But, at intervals, he had fits of gloomy silence, and + appeared to be suffering torture which he strove to bear uncomplainingly. + It was a mute agony which bore down upon him, and, for hours at a time, + left him stupefied, a prey to a frightful inward struggle, the violence of + which could only be guessed by the sweat of anguish that streamed down his + face. + </p> + <p> + At such times La Teuse refused to leave him, and overwhelmed him with a + torrent of gossip, until he had gradually recovered tranquillity by + crushing the rebellion of his blood. On that particular morning, the old + servant foresaw a more grievous attack than usual, and poured forth an + amazing flood of talk, while continuing her wary manoeuvres with the + spoon, which threatened to burn her tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said she, ‘one has to live among a lot of wild beasts to see + such goings-on. Would any one ever think in a decent village of being + married by candlelight? It shows what a poor sort these Artauds are. When + I was in Normandy, I used to see weddings that threw every one into + commotion for a couple of leagues round. They would feast for three whole + days. The priest would be there, and the mayor, too; and at the marriage + of one of my cousins, all the firemen came as well. And didn’t they have a + fine time of it! But to make a priest get up before sunrise and marry + people before even the chickens have left their roost, why, there’s no + sense in it! If I had been your reverence, I should have refused to do it. + You haven’t had your proper sleep, and you may have caught cold in the + church. It is that which has upset you. Besides which it would be better + to marry brute beasts than that Rosalie and her ugly lout. That brat of + theirs dirtied one of the chairs.—But you ought to tell me when you + feel poorly, and I could make you something warm.—Eh! Monsieur le + Curé, speak to me!’ + </p> + <p> + He answered, in a feeble voice, that he was quite well, and only needed a + little fresh air. He had just leant against one of the mulberry-trees, and + was breathing rather quickly, as if faint. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! all right,’ went on La Teuse, ‘do just as you like. Go on marrying + people when you haven’t the strength for it, and when you know very well + that it’s bound to upset you. I knew how it would be; I told you so + yesterday. And if you took my advice, you wouldn’t stay where you are. The + smell of the yard is bad for you. It is frightful just now. I can’t + imagine what Mademoiselle Desirée can be stirring about there. She’s + singing away, and doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Ah! that reminds me of + something I want to tell you. You know that I did all I could to keep her + from taking the cow to Beage; but she’s like you, obstinate, and will go + her own way. Fortunately, however, for her, she’s none the worse for it. + She delights to be amongst the animals and their young ones. But come now, + your reverence, do be reasonable. Let me take you to your room. You must + lie down and rest a little. What, you don’t want to! Well, then, so much + the worse for you, if you suffer! Besides, it’s absurd to keep one’s + worries locked up in one’s heart till they stifle one.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, in her indignation, she hastily swallowed a big spoonful of soup at + the risk of burning her throat. She rattled the handle of the spoon + against the bowl, muttering and grumbling to herself. + </p> + <p> + ‘There never was such a man,’ said she. ‘He would die rather than say a + word. But it’s all very well for him to keep silent. I know quite enough, + and it doesn’t require much cleverness to guess the rest. Well! well! let + him keep it to himself. I dare say it is better.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse was jealous. Dr. Pascal had had a tremendous fight with her in + order to get her patient away at the time when he had come to the + conclusion that the young priest’s case would be quite hopeless if he + should remain at the parsonage. He had then explained to her that the + sound of the bell would aggravate and intensify Serge’s fever, that the + religious pictures and statuettes scattered about his room would fill his + brain with hallucinations, and that entirely new surroundings were + necessary if he was to be restored to health and strength and peacefulness + of mind. She, however, had vigorously shaken her head, and declared that + her ‘dear child’ would nowhere find a better nurse than herself. Still, + she had ended by yielding. She had even resigned herself to seeing him go + to the Paradou, though protesting against this selection of the doctor’s, + which astonished her. But she retained a strong feeling of hatred for the + Paradou; and she was hurt by the silence which Abbé Mouret maintained as + to the time he had spent there. She had frequently laid all sorts of + unsuccessful traps to induce him to talk of it. That morning, exasperated + by his ghastly pallor, and his obstinacy in suffering in silence, she + ended by waving her spoon about and crying: + </p> + <p> + ‘You should go back yonder again, Monsieur le Curé, if you were so happy + there—I dare say there is some one there who would nurse you better + than I do.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the first time she had ventured upon a direct allusion to her + suspicions. The blow was so painful to the priest that he could not check + a slight cry, as he raised his grief-racked countenance. At this La + Teuse’s kindly heart was filled with regret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ she murmured, ‘it is all the fault of your uncle Pascal. I told him + what it would be. But those clever men cling so obstinately to their own + ideas. Some of them would kill you, just for the sake of rummaging in your + body afterwards—It made me so angry that I would never speak of it + to any one. Yes, Monsieur le Curé, you have me to thank that nobody knew + where you were; I was so angry about it. I thought it abominable! When + Abbé Guyot, from Saint-Eutrope, who took your place during your absence, + came to say mass here on Sundays, I told him all sorts of stories. I said + you had gone to Switzerland. I don’t even know where Switzerland is.—Well! + well! I surely don’t want to say anything to pain you, but it was + certainly over yonder that you got your trouble. Very finely they’ve cured + you indeed! It would have been very much better if they had left you with + me. I shouldn’t have thought of trying to turn your head.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, whose brow was again lowered, made no attempt to interrupt + her. La Teuse had seated herself upon the ground a few yards away from + him, in order if possible to catch his eye. And she went on again in her + motherly way, delighted at his seeming complacency in listening to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You would never let me tell you about Abbé Caffin. As soon as I began to + speak of him, you always made me stop. Well, well; Abbé Caffin had had his + troubles in my part of the world, at Canteleu. And yet he was a very holy + man, with an irreproachable character. But, you see, he was a man of very + delicate taste, and liked soft pretty things. Well, there was a young + party who was always prowling round him, the daughter of a miller, whom + her parents had sent to a boarding-school. Well, to put it shortly, what + was likely to happen did happen. When the story got about, all the + neighbourhood was very indignant with the Abbé. But he managed to escape + to Rouen, and poured out his grief to the Archbishop there. Then he was + sent here. The poor man was punished quite enough by being made to live in + this hole of a place. I heard of the girl afterwards. She had married a + cattle-dealer, and was very happy.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse, delighted at having been allowed to tell her story, interpreted + the priest’s silence as an encouragement to continue her gossiping. So she + drew a little nearer to him and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘He was very friendly with me, was good Monsieur Caffin, and often spoke + to me of his sin. It won’t keep him out of heaven, I’m sure. He can rest + quite peacefully out there under the turf, for he never harmed any one. + For my part, I can’t understand why people should get so angry with a + priest when such a thing unhappily befalls him. Of course it’s wrong, and + likely to anger God; but then one can confess and repent, and get + absolution. Isn’t it so, your reverence, that when one truly repents, one + is saved in spite of one’s sins?’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret slowly raised his head. By a supreme effort he had overcome + his agony, and though his face was still very pale, he exclaimed in a firm + voice, ‘One should never sin; never! never!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! sir,’ cried the old servant, ‘you are too proud and reserved. It is + not a nice thing, that pride of yours.—If I were in your place, I + would not harden myself like that. I would talk of what was troubling me, + and not try to rend my heart in pieces. You should reconcile yourself to + the separation gradually. The worry wears off little by little. But, + instead of that, you won’t even allow people’s names to be uttered. You + forbid them to be mentioned. It is as though they were dead. Since you + came back, I have not dared to tell you the least bit of news. Well, well, + I am going to speak now, and I shall tell you all I know; because I see + quite well that it is all this silence that is preying upon your heart.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her sternly, and lifted his finger to silence her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes,’ she went on, ‘I get news from over yonder, very often indeed, + and I am going to tell it to you. To begin with, there is some one there + who is no happier than you are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Silence! Silence!’ said Abbé Mouret, summoning all his strength to rise + and move away. + </p> + <p> + But La Teuse also rose and barred his way with her bulky figure. She was + angry, and cried out: + </p> + <p> + ‘There, you see, you want to be off already! But you are going to listen + to me. You know quite well that I am not over fond of the people yonder, + don’t you? If I talk to you about them, it is for your own good. Some + people say that I am jealous. Well, one day I mean to take you over there. + You would be with me, and you wouldn’t be afraid of any harm happening. + Will you go?’ + </p> + <p> + He motioned her away from him with his hands, and his face was calm again + as he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I desire nothing. I wish to know nothing. There is high mass to-morrow. + You must see that the altar is made ready.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as he walked away, he added, smiling: + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be uneasy, my good Teuse. I am stronger than you imagine. I shall + be able to cure myself without any one’s assistance.’ + </p> + <p> + With these words he went off, bearing himself sturdily, with his head + erect, for he had vanquished his feelings. His cassock rustled very gently + against the borders of thyme. La Teuse, who for a moment had remained + rooted to the spot where she was standing, sulkily picked up her basin and + wooden spoon. Then, shrugging her big shoulders again and again, she + mumbled between her teeth: + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all bravado of his. He imagines that he is differently made from + other men, just because he is a priest. Well, as a matter of fact, he is + very firm and determined. I have known some who wouldn’t have had to be + wheedled so long. And he is quite capable of crushing his heart, just as + one might crush a flea. It must be the Almighty who gives him his + strength.’ + </p> + <p> + As she returned to the kitchen she saw Abbé Mouret standing by the gate of + the farmyard. Desirée had stopped him there to make him feel a capon which + she had been fattening for some weeks past. He told her pleasantly that it + was very heavy, and the big child chuckled with glee. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! well,’ said La Teuse in a fury, ‘that bird has got to crush its heart + too. But then it can’t help itself.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Abbé Mouret spent his days at the parsonage. He shunned the long walks + which he had been wont to take before his illness. The scorched soil of + Les Artaud, the ardent heat of that valley where the vines could never + even grow straight, distressed him. On two occasions, in the morning, he + had attempted to go out and read his breviary as he strolled along the + road; but he had not gone beyond the village. He had returned home, + overcome by the perfumes, the heat, the breadth of the landscape. It was + only in the evening, in the cool twilight air, that he ventured to saunter + a little in front of the church, on the terrace which led to the + graveyard. In the afternoons, to fill up his time, and satisfy his craving + for some kind of occupation, he had imposed upon himself the task of + pasting paper over the broken panes of the church windows, This had kept + him for a week mounted on a ladder, arranging his paper panes with great + exactness, and laying on the paste with the most scrupulous care in order + to avoid any mess. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse stood at the foot of the ladder and watched him. And Desirée + urged that he must not fill up all the windows, or else the sparrows would + no longer be able to get through. To please her, the priest left a pane or + two in each window unfilled. Then, having completed these repairs, he was + seized with the ambition of decorating the church, without summoning to + his aid either mason or carpenter or painter. He would do it all himself. + This sort of handiwork would amuse him, he said, and help to bring back + his strength. Uncle Pascal encouraged him every time he called at the + parsonage, assuring him that such exercise and fatigue were better than + all the drugs in the world. And so Abbé Mouret began to stop up the holes + in the walls with plaster, to drive fresh nails into the disjoined altars, + and to crush and mix paints, in order that he might put a new coating on + the pulpit and confessional-box. It was quite an event in the district, + and folks talked of it for a couple of leagues round. Peasants would come + and stand gazing, with their hands behind their backs, at his reverence’s + work. The Abbé himself, with a blue apron tied round his waist, and his + hands all soiled with his labour, became absorbed in it, and used it as an + excuse for no longer going out. He spent his days in the midst of his + repairs, and was more tranquil than he had been before; almost cheerful, + indeed, as he forgot the outer world, the trees and the sunshine and the + warm breezes, which had formerly disturbed him so much. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur le Curé is free to do as he pleases, since the parish hasn’t got + to find the money,’ said old Bambousse, who came round every evening to + see how the work was progressing. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret spent all his savings on it. Some of his decorations, indeed, + were so awkward that they would have excited many people’s smiles. The + replastering of the stonework soon tired him: so he contented himself with + patching up the church walls all round to a height of some six feet from + the ground. La Teuse mixed the plaster. When she talked of repairing the + parsonage as well, for she was continually fearing that it would topple + down on their heads, he told her that he did not think he could manage it, + that a regular workman would be necessary; a reply which led to a terrible + quarrel between them. La Teuse said it was quite ridiculous to go on + ornamenting the church, where nobody slept, while their bedrooms were in + such a crazy condition, for she was quite sure they would all be found, + one morning, crushed to death by the fallen ceilings. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall end by bringing my bed here, and placing it behind the altar,’ + she grumbled. ‘I feel quite terrified sometimes at night.’ + </p> + <p> + However, when the plaster was all used up, she said no more about + repairing the parsonage. The painting which the priest executed quite + delighted her. It was the chief charm of the improvements. The Abbé, who + had repaired the woodwork everywhere with bits of boards, took particular + pleasure in spreading his big brush, dipped in bright yellow paint, over + all this woodwork. The gentle, up-and-down motion of the brush lulled him, + left him thoughtless for hours whilst he gazed on the oily streaks of + paint. When everything was quite yellow, the pulpit, the confessional-box, + the altar rails, even the clock-case itself, he ventured to try his hand + at imitation marble work by way of touching up the high altar. Then, + growing bolder, he painted it all over. Glistening with white and yellow + and blue, it was pronounced superb. People who had not been to mass for + fifty years streamed into the church to see it. + </p> + <p> + And now the paint was dry. All that remained for Abbé Mouret to do was to + edge the panels with brown beading. So, that afternoon, he set to work at + it, wishing to get it done by evening; for on the following day, as he had + reminded La Teuse, there would be high mass. She was there ready to + arrange the altar. She had already placed on the credence the candlesticks + and the silver cross, the porcelain vases filled with artificial roses, + and the laced cloth which was only used on great festivals. The beading, + however, proved so difficult of execution, that it was not completed till + late in the evening. It was growing quite dark as the Abbé finished his + last panel. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be really too beautiful,’ said a rough voice from amidst the + greyish gloom of twilight which was filling the church. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse, who had knelt down to get a better view of the Abbé’s brush as + it glided along his rule, started with alarm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! it’s Brother Archangias,’ she said, turning round. ‘You came in by + the sacristy then? You gave me quite a turn. Your voice seemed to sound + from under the floor.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret had resumed his work, after greeting the Brother with a slight + nod. The Brother remained standing there in silence, with his fat hands + clasped in front of his cassock. Then, shrugging his shoulders, as he + observed with what scrupulous care the priest sought to make his beading + perfectly straight, he repeated: + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be really too beautiful.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse, who knelt near by in ecstasy, started again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear me!’ she said, ‘I had quite forgotten you were there. You really + ought to cough before you speak. You have a voice that comes on one so + suddenly that one might think it was a voice from the grave.’ + </p> + <p> + She rose up and drew back a little the better to admire the Abbé’s work. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why too beautiful?’ she asked. ‘Nothing can be too beautiful when it is + done for the Almighty. If his reverence had only had some gold, he would + have done it with gold, I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + When the priest had finished, she hastened to change the altar-cloth, + taking the greatest care not to smudge the beading. Then she arranged the + cross, the candlesticks, and the vases symmetrically. Abbé Mouret had gone + to lean against the wooden screen which separated the choir from the nave, + by the side of Brother Archangias. Not a word passed between them. Their + eyes were fixed upon the silver crucifix, which, in the increasing gloom, + still cast some glimmer of light on the feet and the left side and the + right temple of the big Christ. When La Teuse had finished, she came down + towards them, triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doesn’t it look lovely?’ she asked. ‘Just you see what a crowd there will + be at mass to-morrow! Those heathens will only come to God’s house when + they think He is well-to-do. Now, Monsieur le Curé, we must do as much for + the Blessed Virgin’s altar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Waste of money!’ growled Brother Archangias. + </p> + <p> + But La Teuse flew into a tantrum; and, as Abbé Mouret remained silent, she + led them both before the altar of the Virgin, pushing them and dragging + them by their cassocks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just look at it,’ said she; ‘it is too shabby for anything, now that the + high altar is so smart. It looks as though it had never been painted at + all. However much I may rub it of a morning, the dust sticks to it. It is + quite black; it is filthy. Do you know what people will say about you, + your reverence? They will say that you care nothing for the Blessed + Virgin; that’s what they’ll say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what of it?’ queried Brother Archangias. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse looked at him, half suffocated by indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘What of it? It would be sinful, of course,’ she muttered. ‘This altar is + like a neglected tomb in a graveyard. If it were not for me, the spiders + would spin their webs across it, and moss would soon grow over it. From + time to time, when I can spare a bunch of flowers, I give it to the + Virgin. All the flowers in our garden used to be for her once.’ + </p> + <p> + She had mounted the altar steps, and she took up two withered bunches of + flowers, which had been left there, forgotten. + </p> + <p> + ‘See! it is just as it is in the graveyards,’ she said, throwing the + flowers at Abbé Mouret’s feet. + </p> + <p> + He picked them up, without replying. It was quite dark now, and Brother + Archangias stumbled about amongst the chairs and nearly fell. He growled + and muttered some angry words, in which the names of Jesus and Mary + recurred. When La Teuse, who had gone for a lamp, returned into the + church, she asked the priest: + </p> + <p> + ‘So I can put the brushes and pots away in the attic, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I have finished. We will see about the rest later + on.’ + </p> + <p> + She walked away in front of them, carrying all the things with her, and + keeping silence, lest she should say too much. And as Abbé Mouret had kept + the withered bunches of flowers in his hand, Brother Archangias said to + him, as they passed the farmyard: ‘Throw those things away.’ + </p> + <p> + The Abbé took a few steps more, with downcast head; and then over the + palings he flung the flowers upon a manure-heap. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + The Brother, who had already had his own meal, seated himself astride a + chair, while the priest dined. Since Serge’s return to Les Artaud, the + Brother had thus spent most of his evenings at the parsonage; but never + before had he imposed his presence upon the other in so rough a fashion. + He stamped on the tiled floor with his heavy boots, his voice thundered + and he smote the furniture, whilst he related how he had whipped some of + his pupils that morning, or expounded his moral principles in terms as + stern, as uncompromising as bludgeon-blows. Then feeling bored, he + suggested that he and La Teuse should have a game at cards. They had + endless bouts of ‘Beggar-my-neighbour’ together, that being the only game + which La Teuse had ever been able to learn. Abbé Mouret would smilingly + glance at the first few cards flung on the table and would then gradually + sink into reverie, remaining for hours forgetful of his self-restraint, + oblivious of his surroundings, beneath the suspicious glances of Brother + Archangias. + </p> + <p> + That evening La Teuse felt so cross that she had talked of going to bed as + soon as the cloth was removed. The Brother, however, wanted his game of + cards. So he caught hold of her shoulders and sat her down, so roughly + that the chair creaked beneath her. And forthwith he began to shuffle the + cards. Desirée, who hated him, had gone off carrying her dessert, which + she generally took upstairs with her every evening to eat in bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want the red cards,’ said La Teuse. + </p> + <p> + Then the struggle began. The old woman at first won some of the Brother’s + best cards. But before long two aces fell together on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s a battle!’ she cried, wild with excitement. + </p> + <p> + She threw down a nine, which rather alarmed her, but as the Brother, in + his turn, only put down a seven, she picked up the cards with a triumphant + air. At the end of half an hour, however, she had only gained two aces, so + that the chances remained fairly equal. And a quarter of an hour later she + lost an ace. The knaves and kings and queens were perpetually coming and + going as the battle furiously progressed. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a splendid game, eh?’ said Brother Archangias, turning towards Abbé + Mouret. + </p> + <p> + But when he saw him sitting there, so absorbed in his reverie, with such a + gentle smile playing unconsciously round his lips, he roughly raised his + voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Monsieur le Curé, you are not paying any attention to us! It isn’t + polite of you. We are only playing on your account. We were trying to + amuse you. Come and watch the game. It would do you more good than dozing + and dreaming away there. Where were you just now?’ + </p> + <p> + The priest started. He said nothing, but with quivering eyelids tried to + force himself to look at the game. The play went on vigorously. La Teuse + won her ace back, and then lost it again. On some evenings they would + fight in this way over the aces for quite four hours, and often they would + go off to bed, angry at having failed to bring the contest to a decisive + issue. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, dear me! I’ve only just remembered it!’ suddenly cried La Teuse, who + greatly feared that she was going to be beaten. ‘His reverence has to go + out to-night. He promised Fortune and Rosalie that he would go to bless + their room, according to the custom. Make haste, Monsieur le Curé! The + Brother will go with you.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret had already risen from his chair, and was looking for his hat. + But Brother Archangias, still holding his cards, flew into a tantrum: ‘Oh! + don’t bother about it,’ said he. ‘What does it want to be blessed for that + pigsty of theirs? It is a custom that you should do away with. I can’t see + any sense in it. Stay here and let us finish the game. That is much the + best thing to do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the priest, ‘I promised to go. Those good people might feel + hurt if I didn’t. You stay here and play your game out while you are + waiting for me.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse glanced uneasily at Brother Archangias. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes, I will stay here,’ cried the Brother. ‘It is really too + absurd.’ + </p> + <p> + But before Abbé Mouret could open the door, he flung his cards on the + table and rose to follow him. Then half turning back he called to La + Teuse: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have won. Leave the cards as they are, and we will play the game + out to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! they are all mixed now,’ answered the old servant, who had lost no + time in shuffling them together. ‘Did you suppose that I was going to put + your hand away under a glass case? And, besides, I might very well have + won, for I still had an ace left.’ + </p> + <p> + A few strides brought Brother Archangias up with Abbé Mouret, who was + walking down the narrow path that led to the village. The Brother had + undertaken the task of keeping watch over the Abbé’s movements. He + incessantly played the spy upon him, accompanying him everywhere, or, if + he could not go in person, sending some school urchin to follow him. With + that terrible laugh of his, he was wont to remark that he was ‘God’s + gendarme.’ + </p> + <p> + And, in truth, the Abbé seemed like a culprit ever guarded by the black + shadow of the Brother’s cassock; a culprit to be treated distrustfully, + since in his weakness he might well lapse into fresh crime were he left + free from surveillance for a single moment. Thus he was watched and + guarded with all the spiteful eagerness that some jealous old maid might + have displayed, the overreaching zeal of a gaoler who might carry + precautions so far as to exclude even such rays of light as might creep + through the chinks of the prison-house. Brother Archangias was always on + the watch to keep out the sunlight, to prevent even a whiff of air from + entering, to shut up his prison so completely that nothing from outside + could gain access to it. He noted the Abbé’s slightest fits of weakness, + and by his glance divined his tender thoughts, which with a word he + pitilessly crushed, as though they were poisonous vermin. The priest’s + intervals of silence, his smiles, the paling of his brow, the faint + quivering of his limbs, were all noted by the Brother. But he never spoke + openly of the transgression. His presence alone was a sufficient reproach. + The manner in which he uttered certain words imparted to them all the + sting of a whip stroke. With a mere gesture he expressed his utter disgust + for the priest’s sin. Like one of those betrayed husbands who enjoy + torturing their wives with cruel allusions, he contented himself with + recalling the scene at the Paradou, in an indirect fashion, by some word + or phrase which sufficed to annihilate the Abbé, whenever the latter’s + flesh rebelled. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly ten o’clock and most of the villagers of Les Artaud had + retired to rest. But from a brightly lighted house at the far end, near + the mill, there still came sounds of merriment. While keeping the best + rooms for his own use, old Bambousse had given a corner of his house to + his daughter and son-in-law. They were all assembled there, drinking a + last glass, while waiting for the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are drunk,’ growled Brother Archangias. ‘Don’t you hear the row they + are making?’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret made no reply. It was a lovely night and all looked bluish in + the moonlight, which lent to the distant part of the valley the aspect of + a sleeping lake. The priest slackened his pace that he might the more + fully enjoy the charm of that soft radiance, and now and then he even + stopped as he came upon some expanse of light, experiencing the delightful + quiver which the proximity of fresh water brings one on a hot day. But the + Brother continued striding along, grumbling and calling him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along; come along! It isn’t good to loiter out of doors at this time + of night. You would be much better in bed.’ + </p> + <p> + All at once, however, just as they were entering the village, Archangias + himself stopped short in the middle of the road. He was looking towards + the heights, where the white lines of the roads vanished amidst black + patches of pine-woods, and he growled to himself, like a dog that scents + danger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who can be coming down so late?’ he muttered. + </p> + <p> + But the priest, who neither saw nor heard anything, was now, in his turn, + anxious to press on. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay! stay! there he is,’ eagerly added Brother Archangias. ‘He has just + turned the corner. See! he is in the moonlight now. One can see him + plainly. It is a tall man, with a stick.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, after a moment’s silence, he resumed, in a voice husky with fury: + ‘It is he, that beggar! I felt sure it was!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, the new-comer having now reached the bottom of the hill, Abbé + Mouret saw that it was Jeanbernat. In spite of his eighty years, the old + man set his feet down with such force, that his heavy, nailed boots sent + sparks flying from the flints on the road. And he walked along as upright + as an oak, without the aid of his stick, which he carried across his + shoulder like a musket. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! the villain!’ stammered the Brother, still standing motionless. ‘May + the fiend light all the blazes of hell under his feet!’ + </p> + <p> + The priest, who felt greatly disturbed, and despaired of inducing his + companion to come on, turned round to continue his journey, hoping that, + by a quick walk to the Bambousses’ house, he might yet manage to avoid + Jeanbernat. But he had not taken five strides before he heard the + bantering voice of the old man close behind him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hie! Curé! wait for me. Are you afraid of me?’ + </p> + <p> + And as Abbé Mouret stopped, he came up and continued: ‘Ah! those cassocks + of yours are tiresome things, aren’t they? They prevent your getting along + too quickly. It’s such a fine clear night, too, that one can recognise you + by your gown a long way off. When I was right at the top of the hill, I + said to myself, “Surely that is the little priest down yonder.” Oh! yes, I + still have very good eyes.... Well, so you never come to see us now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have had so much to do,’ murmured the priest, who had turned very pale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, every one’s free to please himself. If I’ve mentioned the + matter, it’s only because I want you to know that I don’t bear you any + grudge for being a priest. We wouldn’t even talk about your religion, it’s + all one and the same to me. But the little one thinks that it’s I who + prevents your coming. I said to her, “The priest is an idiot,” and I think + so, indeed. Did I try to eat you during your illness? Why, I didn’t even + go upstairs to see you. Every one’s free, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke on in the most unconcerned manner, pretending that he did not + notice the presence of Brother Archangias; but as the latter suddenly + broke into an angry grunt, he added, ‘Why, Curé, so you bring your pig out + with you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take care, you bandit!’ hissed the Brother, clenching his fists. + </p> + <p> + Jeanbernat, whose stick was still raised, then pretended to recognise him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hands off!’ he cried. ‘Ah! it’s you, you soul-saver! I ought to have + known you by your smell. We have a little account to settle together, + remember. I have sworn to cut off your ears in the middle of your school. + It will amuse the children you are poisoning.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother fell back before the raised staff, a flood of abuse rising to + his lips; but he began to stammer and went on disjointedly: + </p> + <p> + ‘I will set the gendarmes after you, scoundrel! You spat on the church; I + saw you. You give the plague to the poor people who merely pass your door. + At Saint-Eutrope you made a girl die by forcing her to chew a consecrated + wafer which you had stolen. At Beage you went and dug up the bodies of + little dead children and carried them away on your back. You are an old + sorcerer! Everybody knows it, you scoundrel! You are the disgrace of the + district. Whoever strangles you will gain heaven for the deed.’ + </p> + <p> + The old man listened with a sneer, twirling the while his staff between + his fingers. And between the Brother’s successive insults he ejaculated in + an undertone: + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on, go on; relieve yourself, you viper. I’ll break your back for you + by-and-by.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret tried to interfere, but Brother Archangias pushed him away, + exclaiming: ‘You are led by him yourself! Didn’t he make you trample upon + the cross? Deny it, if you dare!’ Then again, turning to Jeanbernat, he + yelled: ‘Ah! Satan, you must have chuckled and no mistake when you held a + priest in your grasp! May Heaven curse those who abetted you in that + sacrilege! What was it you did, at night, while he slept? You came and + moistened his tonsure with your saliva, eh? so that his hair might grow + more quickly. And then you breathed upon his chin and his cheeks that his + beard might grow a hand’s breadth in a single night. And you rubbed all + your philters into his body, and breathed into his mouth the + lasciviousness of a dog. You turned him into a brute-beast, Satan.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s idiotic,’ said Jeanbernat, resting his stick on his shoulder. ‘He + quite bores me.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother, however, growing bolder, thrust his fists under the old man’s + nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that drab of yours!’ he cried, ‘you can’t deny that you set her on to + damn the priest.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he suddenly sprang backwards, with a shriek, for the old man, + swinging his stick with all his strength, had just broken it over his + back. Retreating yet a little further, Archangias picked from a heap of + stones beside the road a piece of flint twice the size of a man’s fist, + and threw it at Jeanbernat. It would surely have split the other’s + forehead open if he had not bent down. He, however, now likewise crossed + over to a heap of stones, sheltered himself behind it, and provided + himself with missiles; and from one heap to the other a terrible combat + began, with a perfect hail of flints. The moon now shone very brightly, + and their dark shadows fell distinctly on the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, you set that hussy on to ruin him!’ repeated the Brother, wild + with rage. ‘Ah! you are astonished that I know all about it! You hope for + some monstrous result from it all. Every morning you make the thirteen + signs of hell over that minx of yours! You would like her to become the + mother of Antichrist. You long for Antichrist, you villain! But may this + stone blind you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And may this one bung your mouth up!’ retorted Jeanbernat, who was now + quite calm again. ‘Is he cracked, the silly fellow, with all those stories + of his?... Shall I have to break your head for you, before I can get on my + way? Is it your catechism that has turned your brain?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Catechism, indeed! Do you know what catechism is taught to accursed ones + like you? Ah! I will show you how to make the sign of the cross.—This + stone is for the Father, and this for the Son, and this for the Holy + Ghost. Ah! you are still standing. Wait a bit, wait a bit. Amen!’ Then he + threw a handful of small pebbles like a volley of grape-shot. Jeanbernat, + who was struck upon the shoulder, dropped the stones he was holding, and + quietly stepped forwards, while Brother Archangias picked two fresh + handfuls from the heap, blurting out: + </p> + <p> + I am going to exterminate you. It is God who wills it. God is acting + through my arm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be quiet!’ said the old man, grasping him by the nape of the + neck. + </p> + <p> + Then came a short struggle amidst the dust of the road, all bluish with + moonlight. The Brother, finding himself the weaker of the two, tried to + bite. But Jeanbernat’s sinewy limbs were like coils of rope which pinioned + him so tightly that he could almost feel them cutting into his flesh. He + panted and ceased to struggle, meditating some act of treachery. + </p> + <p> + The old man, having got the other under him, scoffingly exclaimed: ‘I have + a good mind to break one of your arms. You see that it isn’t you who are + the stronger, but that it is I who am exterminating you.... Now I’m going + to cut your ears off. You have tried my endurance too far.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeanbernat calmly drew his knife from his pocket. But Abbé Mouret, who had + several times attempted to part the combatants, now raised such strenuous + opposition to the old man’s design that he consented to defer the + operation till another time. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are acting foolishly, Curé,’ said he. ‘It would do this scoundrel + good to be well bled; but, since it seems to displease you, I’ll wait a + little longer; I shall be meeting him again in some quiet corner.’ + </p> + <p> + And as the Brother broke out into a growl, Jeanbernat cried threateningly: + ‘If you don’t keep still I will cut your ears off at once!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are sitting on his chest,’ said the priest, ‘get up and let him + breathe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; he would begin his tomfoolery again. I will give him his liberty + when I go away, but not before.... Well, I was telling you, Curé, when + this good-for-nothing interrupted us, that you would be very welcome + yonder. The little one is mistress, you know; I don’t attempt to interfere + with her any more than I do with my salad-plants. There are only fools + like this croaker here who see any harm in it. Where did you see anything + wrong, scoundrel? It was yourself who imagined it, villain that you are!’ + </p> + <p> + And thereupon he gave the Brother another shaking. ‘Let him get up,’ + begged Abbé Mouret. + </p> + <p> + ‘By-and-by. The little one has not been well for a long time. I did not + notice anything myself, but she told me; and now I am on my way to tell + your uncle Pascal, at Plassans. I like the night for walking; it is quiet, + and, as a rule, one isn’t delayed by meeting people.... Yes, yes, the + little one is quite ailing.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest could not find a word to say. He staggered, and his head sank. + </p> + <p> + ‘It made her so happy to look after you,’ continued the old man. ‘While I + smoked my pipe I used to hear her laugh. That was quite sufficient for me. + Girls are like the hawthorns; when they break out into blossom, they do + all they can. Well, now, you will come, if your heart prompts you to it. I + am sure it would please the little one. Good night, Curé.’ + </p> + <p> + He got up slowly, keeping a firm grasp of the Brother’s wrists, to guard + against any treacherous attack. Then he proceeded on his way, with + swinging strides, without once turning his head. The Brother silently + crept to the heap of stones, and waited till the old man was some distance + off. Then, with both hands, and with mad violence, he again began flinging + stones, but they fell harmlessly upon the dusty road. Jeanbernat did not + condescend to notice them, but went his way, upright like a tree, through + the clear night. + </p> + <p> + ‘The accursed one!—Satan carries him on!’ shrieked Brother + Archangias, as he hurled his last stone. ‘An old scoundrel, that the least + touch ought to upset! But he is baked in hell’s fire. I smelt his claws.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother stamped with impotent rage on the scattered flints. Then he + suddenly attacked Abbé Mouret. ‘It was all your fault,’ he cried; ‘you + ought to have helped me, and, between us, we could have strangled him.’ + </p> + <p> + Meantime, at the other end of the village, the uproar in the Bambousses’ + house had become greater than ever. The rhythmic tapping of glasses on a + table could be distinctly heard. The priest resumed his walk without + raising his head, making his way towards the flood of bright light that + streamed out of the window like the flare of a fire of vine-cuttings. The + Brother followed him gloomily; his cassock soiled with dust, and one of + his cheeks bleeding from a stone-cut. And, after a short interval of + silence, he asked, in his harsh voice: ‘Shall you go?’ + </p> + <p> + Then as Abbé Mouret did not answer, he went on: ‘Take care! You are + lapsing into sin again. It was sufficient for that man to pass by to send + a thrill through your whole body. I saw you by the light of the moon + looking as pale as a girl. Take care! take care! Do you hear me? Another + time God will not pardon you—you will sink into the lowest abyss! + Ah! wretched piece of clay that you are, filth is mastering you!’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, the priest at last raised his head. Big tears were streaming + from his eyes, and it was in gentle heartbroken accents that he spoke: + ‘Why do you speak to me like that?—You are always with me, and you + know my ceaseless struggles. Do not doubt me, leave me strength to master + myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Those simple words, bathed with silent tears, fell on the night air with + such an expression of superhuman suffering, that even Brother Archangias, + in spite of all his harshness, felt touched. He made no reply, but shook + his dusty cassock, and wiped his bleeding cheek. When they reached the + Bambousses’ house, he refused to go inside. He seated himself, a few yards + away, on the body of an overturned cart, where he waited for the Abbé with + dog-like patience. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! here is Monsieur le Curé!’ cried all the company of Bambousses and + Brichets as Serge entered. + </p> + <p> + They filled their glasses once more. Abbé Mouret was compelled to take + one, too. There had been no regular wedding-feast; but, in the evening, + after dinner, a ten-gallon ‘Dame Jane’ had been placed upon the table, and + they were making it their business to empty it before going to bed. There + were ten of them, and old Bambousse was already with one hand tilting over + the jar whence only a thread of red liquor now flowed. Rosalie, in a very + sportive frame of mind, was dipping her baby’s chin into her glass, while + big Fortune showed off his strength by lifting up the chairs with his + teeth. All the company passed into the bedroom. Custom required that the + priest should there drink the glass of wine which had been poured out for + him. It brought good luck, and prevented quarrels in the household. In + Monsieur Caffin’s time, it had always been a very merry ceremony, for the + old priest loved a joke. He had even gained a reputation for the skilful + way in which he could drain his glass, without leaving a single drop at + the bottom of it; and the Artaud women pretended that every drop undrunk + meant a year’s less love for the newly married pair. But with Abbé Mouret + they dare not joke so freely. However, he drank his wine at one gulp, + which seemed to greatly please old Bambousse. Mother Brichet looked at the + bottom of the glass and saw but a drop or two of the liquid remaining + there. Then, after a few jokes, they all returned to the living room, + where Vincent and Catherine had remained by themselves. Vincent, standing + upon a chair, was clasping the huge jar in his arms, and draining the last + drops of wine into Catherine’s open mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are much obliged to you, Monsieur le Curé,’ said old Bambousse, as he + escorted the priest to the door. ‘Well, they’re married now, so I suppose + you are satisfied. And they are not likely to complain, I’m sure.... Good + night, sleep well, your reverence.’ + </p> + <p> + Brother Archangias had slowly risen from his seat on the old cart. + </p> + <p> + ‘May the devil pile hot coals over them, and roast them!’ he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Then without again opening his lips he accompanied Abbé Mouret to the + parsonage. And he waited outside till the door was closed. Even then he + did not go off without twice looking round to make sure that the Abbé was + not coming out again. As for the priest, when he reached his bedroom, he + threw himself in his clothes upon his bed, clasping his hands to his ears, + and pressing his face to the pillow, in order that he might shut out all + sound and sight. And thus stilling his senses he fell into death-like + slumber. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + The next day was Sunday. As the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross + fell on a high mass day, Abbé Mouret desired to celebrate the festival + with especial solemnity. He was now full of extraordinary devotion for the + Cross, and had replaced the image of the Immaculate Conception in his + bedroom by a large crucifix of black wood, before which he spent long + hours in worship. To exalt the Cross, to plant it before him, above all + else, in a halo of glory, as the one object of his life, gave him the + strength he needed to suffer and to struggle. He sometimes dreamed of + hanging there himself, in Jesus’s place, his head crowned with thorns, + nails driven through his hands and feet, and his side rent by spears. What + a coward he must be to complain of an imaginary wound, when God bled there + from His whole body, and yet preserved on His lips the blessed smile of + the Redemption! And however unworthy it might be, he offered up his wound + as a sacrifice, ended by falling into ecstasy, and believing that blood + did really stream from his brow and side and limbs. Those were hours of + relief, for he fancied that all the impurity within him flowed forth from + his wounds. And he then usually drew himself up with the heroism of a + martyr, and longed to be called upon to suffer the most frightful + tortures, in order that he might bear them without a quiver of the flesh. + </p> + <p> + At early dawn that day he knelt before the crucifix, and grace came upon + him abundantly as dew. He made no effort, he simply fell upon his knees, + to receive it in his heart, to be permeated with it to the marrow of his + bones in sweetest and most refreshing fulness. On the previous day he had + prayed for grace in agony, and it had not come. At times it long remained + deaf to his entreaties, and then, when he simply clasped his hands, in + quite childlike fashion, it flowed down to succour him. It came upon him + that morning like a benediction, bringing perfect serenity, absolute + trusting faith. He forgot his anguish of the previous days, and + surrendered himself wholly to the triumphant joy of the Cross. He seemed + to be cased in such impenetrable armour that the world’s most deadly blows + would glide off from it harmlessly. When he came down from his bedroom, he + stepped along with an air of serenity and victory. La Teuse was + astonished, and went to find Desirée, that he might kiss her; and both of + them clapped their hands, and said that they had not seen him looking so + well for the last six months. + </p> + <p> + But it was in the church, at high mass, that the priest felt that he had + really recovered divine grace. It was a long time since he had approached + the altar with such loving emotion; and he had to make a great effort to + restrain himself from weeping whilst he remained with his lips pressed to + the altar-cloth. It was a solemn high mass. The local rural guard, an + uncle of Rosalie, chanted in a deep bass voice which rumbled through the + low nave like a hoarse organ. Vincent, robed in a surplice much too large + for him, which had formerly belonged to Abbé Caffin, carried an old silver + censer, and was vastly amused by the tinkling of its chains; he swung it + to a great height, so as to produce copious clouds of smoke, and glanced + behind him every now and then to see if he had succeeded in making any one + cough. The church was almost full, for everybody wanted to see his + reverence’s painting. Peasant women laughed with pleasure because the + place smelt so nice, while the men, standing under the gallery, jerked + their heads approvingly at each deeper and deeper note that came from the + rural guard. Filtering through the paper window panes the full morning sun + lighted up the brightly painted walls, on which the women’s caps cast + shadows resembling huge butterflies. The artificial flowers, with which + the altar was decorated, almost seemed to possess the moist freshness of + natural ones newly gathered; and when the priest turned round to bless the + congregation, he felt even stronger emotion than before, as he saw his + church so clean, so full, and so steeped in music and incense and light. + </p> + <p> + After the offertory, however, a buzzing murmur sped through the peasant + women. Vincent inquisitively turned his head, and in doing so, almost let + the charcoal in his censer fall upon the priest’s chasuble. And, wishing + to excuse himself, as he saw the Abbé looking at him with an expression of + reproof, he murmured: ‘It is your reverence’s uncle, who has just come + in.’ + </p> + <p> + At the end of the church, standing beside one of the slender wooden + pillars that supported the gallery, Abbé Mouret then perceived Doctor + Pascal. The doctor was not wearing his usual cheerful and slightly + scoffing expression. Hat in hand, he stood there looking very grave, and + followed the service with evident impatience. The sight of the priest at + the altar, his solemn demeanour, his slow gestures, and the perfect + serenity of his countenance, appeared to gradually increase his + irritation. He could not stay there till the end of the mass, but left the + church, and walked up and down beside his horse and gig, which he had + secured to one of the parsonage shutters. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will that nephew of mine never have finished censing himself?’ he asked + of La Teuse, who was just coming out of the vestry. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all over,’ she replied. ‘Won’t you come into the drawing-room? His + reverence is unrobing. He knows you are here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, unless he were blind, he couldn’t very well help it,’ growled the + doctor, as he followed La Teuse into the cold-looking, stiffly furnished + chamber, which she pompously called the drawing-room. Here for a few + minutes he paced up and down. The gloomy coldness of his surroundings + seemed to increase his irritation. As he strode about, flourishing a stick + he carried, he kept on striking the well-worn chair-seats of horsehair + which sounded hard and dead as stone. Then, tired of walking, he took his + stand in front of the mantelpiece, in the centre of which a gaudily + painted image of Saint Joseph occupied the place of a clock. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! here he comes at last,’ he said, as he heard the door opening. And + stepping towards the Abbé he went on: ‘Do you know that you made me listen + to half a mass? It is a very long time since that happened to me. But I + was bent on seeing you to-day. I have something to say to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he stopped, and looked at the priest with an expression of surprise. + Silence fell. ‘You at all events are quite well,’ he resumed, in a + different voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I am very much better than I was,’ replied Abbé Mouret, with a + smile. ‘I did not expect you before Thursday. Sunday isn’t your day for + coming. Is there something you want to tell me?’ + </p> + <p> + Uncle Pascal did not give an immediate answer. He went on looking at the + Abbé. The latter was still fresh from the influence of the church and the + mass. His hair was fragrant with the perfume of the incense, and in his + eyes shone all the joy of the Cross. His uncle jogged his head, as he + noticed that expression of triumphant peace. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have come from the Paradou,’ he said, abruptly. ‘Jeanbernat came to + fetch me there. I have seen Albine, and she disquiets me. She needs much + careful treatment.’ + </p> + <p> + He kept his eyes fixed upon the priest as he spoke, but he did not detect + so much as a quiver of Serge’s eyelids. + </p> + <p> + ‘She took great care of you, you know,’ he added, more roughly. ‘Without + her, my boy, you might now be in one of the cells at Les Tulettes, with a + strait waistcoat on.... Well, I promised that you would go to see her. I + will take you with me. It will be a farewell meeting. She is anxious to go + away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can do nothing more than pray for the person of whom you speak,’ said + Abbé Mouret, softly. + </p> + <p> + And as the doctor, losing his temper, brought his stick down heavily upon + the couch, he added calmly, but in a firm voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a priest, and can only help with prayers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well! Yes, you are right,’ said Uncle Pascal, dropping down into an + armchair, ‘it is I who am an old fool. Yes, I wept like a child, as I came + here alone in my gig. That is what comes of living amongst books. One + learns a lot from them, but one makes a fool of oneself in the world. How + could I guess that it would all turn out so badly?’ + </p> + <p> + He rose from his chair and began to walk about again, looking exceedingly + troubled. + </p> + <p> + ‘But yes, but yes, I ought to have guessed. It was all quite natural. + Though with one in your position, it was bound to be abominable! You are + not as other men. But listen to me, I assure you that otherwise you would + never have recovered. It was she alone, with the atmosphere she set round + you, who saved you from madness. There is no need for me to tell you what + a state you were in. It is one of my most wonderful cures. But I can’t + take any pride, any pleasure in it, for now the poor girl is dying of it!’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret remained there erect, perfectly calm, his face reflecting all + the quiet serenity of a martyr whom nothing that man might do could + disturb. + </p> + <p> + ‘God will take mercy upon her,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘God! God!’ muttered the doctor below his breath. ‘Ah! He would do better + not to interfere. We might manage matters if we were left to ourselves.’ + Then, raising his voice, he added: ‘I thought I had considered everything + carefully, that is the most wonderful part of it. Oh! what a fool I was! + You would stay there, I thought, for a month to recover your strength. The + shade of the trees, the cheerful chatter of the girl, all the youthfulness + about you would quickly bring you round. And then you, on your side, it + seemed to me, would do something to reclaim the poor child from her wild + ways; you would civilise her, and, between us, we should turn her into a + young lady, for whom we should, by-and-by, find a suitable husband. It + seemed such a perfect scheme. And then how was I to guess that old + philosophising Jeanbernat would never stir an inch from his lettuce-beds? + Well! well! I myself never left my own laboratory. I had such pressing + work there.... And it is all my fault! Ah! I am a stupid bungler!’ + </p> + <p> + He was choking, and wished to go off. And he began to look about him for + his hat, though, all the while, he had it on his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye!’ he stammered; ‘I am going. So you won’t come? Do, now—for + my sake! You see how miserable, how upset I am. I swear to you that she + shall go away immediately afterwards. That is all settled. My gig is here; + you might be back in an hour. Come, do come, I beg you.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest made a sweeping gesture; such a gesture as the doctor had seen + him make before the altar. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘I cannot.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as he accompanied his uncle out of the room, he added: + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell her to fall on her knees and pray to God. God will hear her as He + heard me, and He will comfort her as He has comforted me. There is no + other means of salvation.’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked him full in the face, and shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, then,’ he repeated. ‘You are quite well now, and have no + further need of me.’ + </p> + <p> + But, as he was unfastening his horse, Desirée, who had heard his voice, + came running up. She was extremely attached to her uncle. When she had + been younger he had been wont to listen to her childish prattle for hours + without showing the least sign of weariness. And, even now, he did his + best to spoil her, and manifested the greatest interest in her farmyard, + often spending a whole afternoon with her amongst her fowls and ducks, and + smiling at her with his bright eyes. He seemed to consider her superior to + other girls. And so she now flung herself round his neck, in an impulse of + affection, and cried: + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t you going to stay and have some lunch with us?’ + </p> + <p> + But having kissed her, he said he could not remain, and unfastened her + arms from his neck with a somewhat pettish air. She laughed however, and + again clasped her arms round him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! but you must,’ she persisted. ‘I have some eggs that have only just + been laid. I have been looking in the nests, and there are fourteen eggs + this morning. And, if you will stay, we can have a fowl, the white one, + that is always quarrelling with the others. When you were here on + Thursday, you know, it pecked the big spotted hen’s eye out.’ + </p> + <p> + But her uncle persisted in his refusal. He was irritated to find that he + could not unfasten the knot in which he had tied his reins. And then she + began to skip round him, clapping her hands and repeating in a sing-song + voice: ‘Yes! yes! you’ll stay, and we will eat it up, we’ll eat it up!’ + </p> + <p> + Her uncle could no longer resist her blandishments; he raised his head and + smiled at her. She seemed so full of life and health and sincerity; her + gaiety was as frank and natural as the sheet of sunlight which was gilding + her bare arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘You big silly!’ he said; and clasping her by the wrists as she continued + skipping gleefully about him, he went on: ‘No, dear; not to-day. I have to + go to see a poor girl who is ill. But I will come some other morning. I + promise you faithfully.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When? when?’ she persisted. ‘On Thursday? The cow is in calf, you know, + and she hasn’t seemed at all well these last two days. You are a doctor, + and you ought to be able to give her something to do her good.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, who had calmly remained there, could not restrain a slight + laugh. + </p> + <p> + The doctor gaily got into his gig and exclaimed: ‘All right, my dear, I + will attend to your cow. Come and let me kiss you. Ah! how nice and + healthy you are! And you are worth more than all the others put together. + Ah! if every one was like my big silly, this earth would be too + beautiful!’ + </p> + <p> + He set his horse off with a cluck of his tongue, and continued talking to + himself as the gig rattled down the hill. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes! there should be nothing but animals. Ah! if they were mere + animals, how happy and gay and strong they would all be! It has gone well + with the girl, who is as happy as her cow; but it has gone badly with the + lad, who is in torture beneath his cassock. A drop too much blood, a + little too much nerve, and one’s whole life is wrecked! ... They are true + Rougons and true Macquarts those children there! The tail-end of the stock—its + final degeneracy.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, urging on his horse, he drove at a trot up the hill that led to the + Paradou. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + Sunday was a busy day for Abbé Mouret. He had to think of vespers, which + he generally said to empty seats, for even mother Brichet did not carry + her piety so far as to go back to church in the afternoon. Then, at four + o’clock, Brother Archangias brought the little rogues from his school to + repeat their catechism to his reverence. This lesson sometimes lasted + until late. When the children showed themselves quite intractable, La + Teuse was summoned to frighten them with her broom. + </p> + <p> + On that particular Sunday, about four o’clock, Desirée found herself quite + alone in the parsonage. As she felt a little bored, she went to gather + some food for her rabbits in the churchyard, where there were some + magnificent poppies, of which rabbits are extremely fond. Dragging herself + about on her knees between the grave-stones, she gathered apronfuls of + juicy verdure on which her pets fell greedily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! what lovely plantains!’ she muttered, stooping before Abbé Caffin’s + tombstone, and delighted with the discovery she had made. + </p> + <p> + There were, indeed, some magnificent plantains spreading out their broad + leaves beside the stone. Desirée had just finished filling her apron with + them when she fancied she heard a strange noise behind her. A rustling of + branches and a rolling of small pebbles came from the ravine which skirted + one side of the graveyard, and at the bottom of which flowed the Mascle, a + stream which descended from the high lands of the Paradou. But the ascent + here was so rough, so impracticable, that Desirée imagined that the noise + could only have been made by some lost dog or straying goat. She stepped + quickly to the edge, and, as she looked over, she was amazed to see amidst + the brambles a girl who was climbing up the rocks with extraordinary + agility. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will give you a hand,’ she said. ‘You might easily break your neck + there.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl, directly she saw she was discovered, started back, as though she + would rather go down again, but after a moment’s hesitation she ventured + to take the hand that was held out to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I know who you are,’ said Desirée, with a beaming smile, and letting + her apron fall that she might grasp the girl by the waist. ‘You once gave + me some blackbirds, but they all died, poor little dears. I was so sorry + about it.—Wait a bit, I know your name, I have heard it before. La + Teuse often mentions it when Serge isn’t there; but she told me that I was + not to repeat it. Wait a moment, I shall remember it directly!’ + </p> + <p> + She tried to recall the name, and grew quite grave in the attempt. Then, + having succeeded in remembering it, she became gay again, and seemingly + found great pleasure in dwelling upon its musical sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘Albine! Albine!—— What a sweet name it is! At first I used to + think you must be a tomtit, because I once had a tomtit with a name very + like yours, though I don’t remember exactly what it was.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine did not smile. Her face was very pale, and there was a feverish + gleam in her eyes. A few drops of blood trickled from her hands. When she + had recovered her breath, she hastily exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + No! no! leave it alone. You will only stain your handkerchief. It is + nothing but a scratch. I didn’t want to come by the road, as I should have + been seen—so I preferred coming along the bed of the torrent—— + Is Serge there?’ + </p> + <p> + Desirée did not feel at all shocked at hearing the girl pronounce her + brother’s name thus familiarly and with an expression of subdued passion. + She simply replied that he was in the church hearing the children say + their catechism. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must not speak at all loudly,’ she added, raising her finger to her + lips. ‘Serge forbade me to talk loudly when he is catechising the + children, and we shall get into trouble if we don’t keep quiet. Let us go + into the stable—shall we? We can talk better there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to see Serge,’ said Albine, simply. + </p> + <p> + Desirée cast a hasty glance at the church, and then whispered, ‘Yes, yes; + Serge will be finely caught. Come with me. We will hide ourselves, and + keep quite quiet. We shall have some fine fun!’ + </p> + <p> + She had picked up the herbage which had fallen from her apron, and + quitting the graveyard she stole back to the parsonage, telling Albine to + hide herself behind her and make herself as little as possible. As they + stealthily glided through the farmyard, they caught sight of La Teuse, who + was crossing over to the vestry, but she did not appear to notice them. + </p> + <p> + ‘There! There!’ said Desirée, quite delighted, as they stowed themselves + away in the stable; ‘keep quiet, and no one will know that we are here. + There is some straw there for you to lie down upon.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine seated herself on a truss of straw. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Serge?’ she asked, persisting in her one fixed idea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! You can hear his voice. When he claps his hands, it will be all + over, and the children will go away—Listen! he is telling them a + tale.’ + </p> + <p> + They could indeed just hear Abbé Mouret’s voice, which was wafted to them + through the vestry doorway which La Teuse had doubtless left open. It came + to them like a solemn murmur, in which they could distinguish the name of + Jesus thrice repeated. Albine trembled. She sprang up as though to hasten + to that beloved voice whose caressing accents she knew so well, but all + sound of it suddenly died away, shut off by the closing of the door. Then + she sat down again, to wait, her hands tightly clasped, and her clear eyes + gleaming with the intensity of her thoughts. Desirée, who was lying at her + feet, gazed up at her with innocent admiration. + </p> + <p> + ‘How beautiful you are!’ she whispered. ‘You are like an image that Serge + used to have in his bedroom. It was quite white like you are, with great + curls floating about the neck; and the heart was quite bare and uncovered, + just in the place where I can feel yours beating—— But you are + not listening to me. You are looking quite sad. Let us play at something? + Will you?’ + </p> + <p> + Then she stopped short, holding her breath and saying between her teeth: + ‘Ah! the wretches! they will get us caught!’ She still had her apron full + of herbage with her, and her pets were taking it by assault. A troop of + fowls had surrounded her, clucking and calling each other, and pecking at + the hanging green stuff. The goat pushed its head slyly under her arm, and + began to eat the longer leaves. Even the cow, which was tethered to the + wall, strained at its cord and poked out its nose, kissing her with its + warm breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! you thieves!’ cried Desirée. ‘But this is for the rabbits, not for + you! Leave me alone, won’t you! You, there, will get your ears boxed, if + you don’t go away! And you too will have your tail pulled if I catch you + at it again. The wretches! they will be eating my hands soon!’ + </p> + <p> + She drove the goat off, dispersed the fowls with her feet, and tapped the + cow’s nose with her fists. But the creatures just shook themselves, and + then came back more greedily than ever, surrounding her, jumping on her, + and tearing open her apron. At this she whispered to Albine, as though she + were afraid the animals might hear her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t they amusing, the dears? Watch them eat.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine looked on with a grave expression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, now, be good,’ resumed Desirée; ‘you shall all have some, but you + must wait your turns. Now, big Lisa, you first. Eh! how fond you are of + plantain, aren’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + Big Lisa was the cow. She slowly munched a handful of the juicy leaves + which had grown beside Abbé Caffin’s tomb. A thread of saliva hung down + from her mouth, and her great brown eyes shone with quiet enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + ‘There! now it’s your turn,’ continued Desirée, turning towards the goat. + ‘You are fond of poppies, I know; and you like the flowers best, don’t + you? The buds that shine in your teeth like red-hot butterflies! See, here + are some splendid ones; they came from the left-hand corner, where there + was a burial last year.’ + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, she gave the goat a bunch of scarlet flowers, which the + animal ate from her hand. When there was nothing left in her grasp but the + stalks, she pushed these between its teeth. Behind her, in the meanwhile, + the fowls were desperately pecking away at her petticoats. She threw them + some wild chicory and dandelions which she had gathered amongst the old + slabs that were ranged alongside the church walls. It was particularly + over the dandelions that the fowls quarrelled, so voraciously indeed, with + such scratchings and flapping of wings, that the other fowls in the yard + heard them. And then came a general invasion. The big yellow cock, + Alexander, was the first to appear; having seized a dandelion and torn it + in halves, without attempting to eat it, he called to the hens who were + still outside to come and peck. Then a white hen strutted in, then a black + one, and then a whole crowd of hens, who hustled one another, and trod on + one another’s tails, and ended by forming a wild flood of feathers. Behind + the fowls came the pigeons, and the ducks, and the geese, and, last of + all, the turkeys. Desirée laughed at seeing herself thus surrounded by + this noisy, squabbling mob. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is what always happens,’ said she, ‘every time that I bring any + green stuff from the graveyard. They nearly kill each other to get at it; + they must find it very nice.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she made a fight to keep a few handfuls of the leaves from the greedy + beaks which rose all round her, saying that something must really be saved + for the rabbits. She would surely get angry with them if they went on like + that, and give them nothing but dry bread in future. However, she was + obliged to give way. The geese tugged at her apron so violently that she + was almost pulled down upon her knees; the ducks gobbled away at her + ankles; two of the pigeons flew upon her head, and some of the fowls + fluttered about her shoulders. It was the ferocity of creatures who smell + flesh: the fat plantains, the crimson poppies, the milky dandelions, in + which remained some of the life of the dead. Desirée laughed loudly, and + felt that she was on the point of slipping down, and letting go of her + last two handfuls, when the fowls were panic-stricken by a terrible + grunting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! it’s you, my fatty,’ she exclaimed, quite delighted; ‘eat them up, + and set me at liberty.’ + </p> + <p> + The pig waddled in; he was no longer the little pig of former days—pink + as a newly painted toy, with a tiny little tail, like a bit of string; but + a fat wobbling creature, fit to be killed, with a belly as round as a + monk’s, and a back all bristling with rough hairs, that reeked of fatness. + His stomach had grown quite yellow from his habit of sleeping on the + manure heap. Waddling along on his shaky feet, he charged with lowered + snout at the scared fowls, and so left Desirée at liberty to escape, and + take the rabbits the few scraps of green stuff which she had so + strenuously defended. When she came back, all was peace again. The stupid, + ecstatic-looking geese were lazily swaying their long necks about, the + ducks and turkeys were waddling in ungainly fashion alongside the wall; + the fowls were quietly clucking and peaking at invisible grains on the + hard ground of the stable; while the pig, the goat, and the big cow, were + drowsily blinking their eyes, as though they were falling asleep. Outside + it had just begun to rain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! well, there’s a shower coming on!’ cried Desirée, throwing herself + down on the straw. ‘You had better stay where you are, my dears, if you + don’t want to get soaked.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she turned to Albine and added: ‘How stupid they all look, don’t + they? They only wake up just to eat!’ + </p> + <p> + Albine still remained silent. The merry laughter of that buxom girl as she + struggled amidst those greedy necks and gluttonous beaks, which tickled + and kissed her, and seemed bent on devouring her very flesh, had rendered + the unhappy daughter of the Paradou yet paler than she had been before. So + much gaiety, so much vitality, so much boisterous health made her despair. + She strained her feverish arms to her desolate bosom, which desertion had + parched. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Serge?’ she asked again, in the same clear, stubborn voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said Desirée. ‘I heard him just now. He hasn’t finished yet—— + We have been making a pretty disturbance; La Teuse must surely have grown + deaf this afternoon—— Let us keep quiet now. I like to hear + the rain fall.’ + </p> + <p> + The shower beat in at the open doorway, casting big drops upon the + threshold. The restless fowls, after venturing out for a moment, had + quickly retreated to the far end of the stable; where, indeed, with the + exception of three ducks who remained quietly walking in the rain, all the + pets had now taken refuge, clustering round the girl’s skirts. It was + growing very warm amongst the straw. Desirée pulled two big trusses + together, made a bed of them, and lay down at full length. She felt + extremely comfortable there. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is so nice,’ she murmured. ‘Come and lie down like me. It is so + springy and soft, all this straw; and it tickles one so funnily in the + neck. Do you roll about in the straw at home? There is nothing I am fonder + of—— Sometimes I tickle the soles of my feet with it. That is + very funny, too——’ + </p> + <p> + But at that moment, the big yellow cock, who had been gravely stalking + towards her, jumped upon her breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get away with you, Alexander! get away!’ she cried. ‘What a tiresome + creature he is! The idea of his perching himself on me—— You + are too rough, sir, and you scratch me with your claws. Do you hear me? I + don’t want you to go away, but you must be good, and mustn’t peck at my + hair.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she troubled herself no further about him. The cock still maintained + his position, every now and then glancing inquisitively at the girl’s chin + with his gleaming eye. The other birds all began to cluster round her. + After rolling amongst the straw, she was now lying lazily on her back with + her arms stretched out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! how pleasant it is,’ she said; ‘but then it makes me feel so sleepy. + Straw always makes one drowsy, doesn’t it? Serge doesn’t like it. Perhaps + you don’t either. What do you like? Tell me, so that I may know.’ + </p> + <p> + She was gradually dozing off. For a moment she opened her eyes widely, as + though she were looking for something, and then her eyelids fell with a + tranquil smile of content. She seemed to be asleep, but after a few + minutes she opened her eyes again, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘The cow is going to have a calf—— That will be so nice, and + will please me more than anything.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she sank into deep slumber. The fowls had ended by perching on her + body; she was buried beneath a wave of living plumage. Hens were brooding + over her feet; geese stretched their soft downy necks over her legs. The + pig lay against her left side, while on the right, the goat poked its + bearded head under her arm. The pigeons were roosting and nestling all + over her, on her hands, her waist, and her shoulders. And there she lay + asleep, in all her rosy freshness, caressed by the cow’s warm breath, + while the big cock still squatted just below her bosom with gleaming comb + and quivering wings. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the rain was falling less heavily. A sunbeam, escaping from + beneath a cloud, gilded the fine drops of water. Albine, who had remained + perfectly still, watched the slumber of Desirée, that big, plump girl who + found her great delight in rolling about in the straw. She wished that + she, too, could slumber away so peacefully, and feel such pleasure, + because a few straws had tickled her neck. And she felt jealous of those + strong arms, that firm bosom, all that vitality, all that purely animal + development which made the other like a tranquil easy-minded sister of the + big red and white cow. + </p> + <p> + However, the rain had now quite ceased. The three cats of the parsonage + filed out into the yard one after the other, keeping close to the wall, + and taking the greatest precautions to avoid wetting their paws. They + peeped into the stable, and then stalked up to the sleeping girl, and lay + down, purring, close by her. Moumou, the big black cat, curled itself up + close to her cheek, and gently licked her chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Serge?’ murmured Albine, quite mechanically. + </p> + <p> + What was it that kept them apart? Who was it that prevented them from + being happy together? Why might she not love him, and why might she not be + loved, freely and in the broad sunlight, as the trees lived and loved? She + knew not, but she felt that she had been forsaken, and had received a + mortal wound. Yet she was possessed by a stubborn, determined longing, a + very necessity, indeed, of once more clasping her love in her arms, of + concealing him somewhere, that he might be hers in all felicity. She rose + to her feet. The vestry door had just been opened again. A clapping of + hands sounded, followed by the uproar of a swarm of children clattering in + wooden shoes over the stone flags. The catechising was over. Then Albine + gently glided out of the stable, where she had been waiting for an hour + amidst the reeking warmth that emanated from Desirée’s pets. + </p> + <p> + As she quietly slipped through the passage that led to the vestry, she + caught sight of La Teuse, who was going to her kitchen, and who + fortunately did not turn her head. Certain, now, of not being seen and + stopped, Albine softly pushed the door which was before her, keeping hold + of it in order that it might make no noise as it closed again. + </p> + <p> + And she found herself in the church. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + At first she could see nobody. Outside, the rain had again begun to fall + in fine close drops. The church looked very grey and gloomy. She passed + behind the high altar, and walked on towards the pulpit. In the middle of + the nave, there were only a number of empty benches, left there in + disorder by the urchins of the catechism class. Amidst all this void came + a low tic-tac from the swaying pendulum. She went down the church to knock + at the confessional-box, which she saw standing at the other end. But, + just as she passed the Chapel of the Dead, she caught sight of Abbé Mouret + prostrated before the great bleeding Christ. He did not stir; he must have + thought that it was only La Teuse putting the seats in order behind him. + </p> + <p> + But Albine laid her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge,’ she said, ‘I have come for you.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest raised his head with a start. His face was very pale. He + remained on his knees and crossed himself, while his lips still quivered + with the words of his prayer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been waiting for you,’ she continued. ‘Every morning and every + evening I looked to see if you were not coming. I have counted the days + till I could keep the reckoning no longer. Ah! for weeks and weeks—— + Then, when I grew sure that you were not coming, I set out myself, and + came here. I said to myself: “I will fetch him away with me.” Give me your + hand and let us go.’ + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hands, as though to help him to rise. But he only + crossed himself, afresh. He still continued his prayers as he looked at + her. He had succeeded in calming the first quiver of his flesh. From the + Divine grace which had been streaming around him since the early morning, + like a celestial bath, he derived a superhuman strength. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not right for you to be here,’ he said, gravely. ‘Go away. You are + aggravating your sufferings.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suffer no longer,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I am well again; I am + cured, now that I see you once more—— Listen! I made myself + out worse than I really was, to induce them to go and fetch you. I am + quite willing to confess it now. And that promise of going away, of + leaving the neighbourhood, you didn’t suppose I should have kept it, did + you? No, indeed, unless I had carried you away with me on my shoulders. + The others don’t know it, but you must know that I cannot now live + anywhere but at your side.’ + </p> + <p> + She grew quite cheerful again, and drew close to the priest with the + caressing ways of a child of nature, never noticing his cold and rigid + demeanour. And she became impatient, clapped her hands, and exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, Serge; make up your mind and come. We are only losing time. There + is no necessity to think so much about it. It is quite simple; I am going + to take you with me. If you don’t want any one to see you, we will go + along by the Mascle. It is not very easy walking, but I managed it all by + myself; and, when we are together, we can help each other. You know the + way, don’t you? We cross the churchyard, we descend to the torrent, and + then we shall only have to follow its course right up to the garden. And + one is quite at home down there. Nobody can see us, there is nothing but + brambles and big round stones. The bed of the stream is nearly dry. As I + came along, I thought: “By-and-by, when he is with me, we will walk along + gently together and kiss one another.” Come, Serge, be quick; I am waiting + for you.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest no longer appeared to hear her. He had betaken himself to his + prayers again, and was asking Heaven to grant him the courage of the + saints. Before entering upon the supreme struggle, he was arming himself + with the flaming sword of faith. For a moment he had feared he was + wavering. He had required all a martyr’s courage and endurance to remain + firmly kneeling there on the flagstones, while Albine was calling him: his + heart had leapt out towards her, all his blood had surged passionately + through his veins, filling him with an intense yearning to clasp her in + his arms and kiss her hair. Her mere breath had awakened all the memory of + their love; the vast garden, their saunters beneath the trees, and all the + joy of their companionship. + </p> + <p> + But Divine grace was poured down upon him more abundantly, and the + torturing strife, during which all his blood seemed to quit his veins, + lasted but a moment. Nothing human then remained within him. He had become + wholly God’s. + </p> + <p> + Albine, however, again touched him on the shoulder. She was growing uneasy + and angry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you not speak to me?’ she asked. ‘You can’t refuse; you will come + with me? Remember that I shall die if you refuse. But no! you can’t; it is + impossible. We lived together once; it was vowed that we should never + separate. Twenty times, at least, did you give yourself to me. You bade me + take you wholly, your limbs, your breath, your very life itself. I did not + dream it all. There is nothing of you that you have not given to me; not a + hair in your head which is not mine. Your hands are mine. For days and + days have I held them clasped in mine. Your face, your lips, your eyes, + your brow, all, all are mine, and I have lavished my love upon them. Do + you hear me, Serge?’ + </p> + <p> + She stood erect before him, full of proud assertion, with outstretched + arms. And, in a louder voice, she repeated: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you hear me, Serge? You belong to me.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Abbé Mouret slowly rose to his feet. He leant against the altar, and + replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘No. You are mistaken. I belong to God.’ + </p> + <p> + He was full of serenity. His shorn face seemed like that of some stone + saint, whom no impulse of the flesh can disturb. His cassock fell around + him in straight folds like a black winding-sheet, concealing all the + outlines of his body. Albine dropped back at the sight of that sombre + phantom of her former love. She missed his freely flowing beard, his + freely flowing curls. And in the midst of his shorn locks she saw the + pallid circle of his tonsure, which disquieted her as if it had been some + mysterious evil, some malignant sore which had grown there, and would eat + away all memory of the happy days they had spent together. She could + recognise neither his hands, once so warm with caresses, nor his lissom + neck, once so sonorous with laughter; nor his agile feet, which had + carried her into the recesses of the woodlands. Could this, indeed, be the + strong youth with whom she had lived one whole season—the youth with + soft down gleaming on his bare breast, with skin browned by the sun’s + rays, with every limb full of vibrating life? At this present hour he + seemed fleshless; his hair had fallen away from him, and all his virility + had withered within that womanish gown, which left him sexless. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! you frighten me,’ she murmured. ‘Did you think then that I was dead, + that you put on mourning? Take off that black thing; put on a blouse. You + can tuck up the sleeves, and we will catch crayfishes again. Your arms + used to be as white as mine.’ + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand on his cassock, as though to tear it off him; but he + repulsed her with a gesture, without touching her. He looked at her now + and strengthened himself against temptation by never allowing his eyes to + leave her. She seemed to him to have grown taller. She was no longer the + playful damsel adorned with bunches of wild-flowers, and casting to the + winds gay, gipsy laughter, nor was she the amorosa in white skirts, + gracefully bending her slender form as she sauntered lingeringly beside + the hedges. Now, there was a velvety bloom upon her lips; her hips were + gracefully rounded; her bosom was in full bloom. She had become a woman, + with a long oval face that seemed expressive of fruitfulness. Life + slumbered within her. And her cheeks glowed with luscious maturity. + </p> + <p> + The priest, bathed in the voluptuous atmosphere that seemed to emanate + from all that feminine ripeness, took a bitter pleasure in defying the + caresses of her coral lips, the tempting smile of her eyes, the witching + charm of her bosom, and all the intoxication which seemed to pour from her + at every movement. He even carried his temerity so far as to search with + his gaze for the spots that he had once so hotly kissed, the corners of + her eyes and lips, her narrow temples, soft as satin, and the ambery nape + of her neck, which was like velvet. And never, even in her embrace, had he + tasted such felicity as he now felt in martyring himself, by boldly + looking in the face the love that he refused. At last, fearing lest he + might there yield to some new allurement of the flesh, he dropped his + eyes, and said, very gently: + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot hear you here. Let us go out, if you, indeed, persist in adding + to the pain of both of us. Our presence in this place is a scandal. We are + in God’s house.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God!’ cried Albine, excitedly, suddenly becoming a child of nature once + more. ‘God! Who is He? I know nothing of your God! I want to know nothing + of Him if He has stolen you away from me, who have never harmed Him. My + uncle Jeanbernat was right then when he said that your God was only an + invention to frighten people, and make them weep! You are lying; you love + me no longer, and that God of yours does not exist.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are in His house now,’ said Abbé Mouret, sternly. ‘You blaspheme. + With a breath He might turn you into dust.’ + </p> + <p> + She laughed with proud disdain, and raised her hands as if to defy Heaven. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! then,’ said she, ‘you prefer your God to me. You think He is stronger + than I am, and you imagine that He will love you better than I did. Oh! + but you are a child, a foolish child. Come, leave all this folly. We will + return to the garden together, and love each other, and be happy and free. + That, that is life!’ + </p> + <p> + This time she succeeded in throwing an arm round his waist, and she tried + to drag him away. But he, quivering all over, freed himself from her + embrace, and again took his stand against the altar. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away!’ he faltered. ‘If you still love me, go away.... O Lord, pardon + her, and pardon me too, for thus defiling this Thy house. Should I go with + her beyond the door, I might, perhaps, follow her. Here, in Thy presence, + I am strong. Suffer that I may remain here, to protect Thee from insult.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine remained silent for a moment. Then, in a calm voice, she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let us stay here, then. I wish to speak to you. You cannot, surely, + be cruel. You will understand me. You will not let me go away alone. Oh! + do not begin to excuse yourself. I will not lay my hands upon you again, + since it distresses you. I am quite calm now as you can see. We will talk + quietly, as we used to do in the old days when we lost our way, and did + not hurry to find it again, that we might have the more time to talk + together.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled at that memory, and continued: + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know about these things myself. My uncle Jeanbernat used to + forbid me to go to church. “Silly girl,” he’d say to me, “why do you want + to go to a stuffy building when you have got a garden to run about in?” I + grew up quite happy and contented. I used to look in the birds’ nests + without even taking the eggs. I did not even pluck the flowers, for fear + of hurting the plants; and you know that I could never torture an insect. + Why, then, should God be angry with me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You should learn to know Him, pray to Him, and render Him the constant + worship which is His due,’ answered the priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! it would please you if I did, would it not?’ she said. ‘You would + forgive me, and love me again? Well, I will do all that you wish me. Tell + me about God, and I will believe in Him, and worship Him. All that you + tell me shall be a truth to which I will listen on my knees. Have I ever + had a thought that was not your own? We will begin our long walks again; + and you shall teach me, and make of me whatever you will. Say “yes,” I beg + of you.’ + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret pointed to his cassock. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot,’ he simply said. ‘I am a priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A priest!’ she repeated after him, the smile dying out of her eyes. ‘My + uncle says that priests have neither wife, nor sister, nor mother. So that + is true, then. But why did you ever come? It was you who took me for your + sister, for your wife. Were you then lying?’ + </p> + <p> + The priest raised his pale face, moist with the sweat of agony. ‘I have + sinned,’ he murmured. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I saw you so free,’ the girl went on, ‘I thought that you were no + longer a priest. I believed that all that was over, that you would always + remain there with me, and for my sake.—— And now, what would + you have me do, if you rob me of my whole life?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What I do,’ he answered; ‘kneel down, suffer on your knees, and never + rise until God pardons you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you a coward, then?’ she exclaimed, her anger roused once more, her + lips curving scornfully. + </p> + <p> + He staggered, and kept silence. Agony held him by the throat; but he + proved stronger than pain. He held his head erect, and a smile almost + played about his trembling lips. Albine for a moment defied him with her + fixed glance; then, carried away by a fresh burst of passion, she + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, answer me. Accuse me! Say it was I who came to tempt you! That will + be the climax! Speak, and say what you can for yourself. Strike me if you + like. I should prefer your blows to that corpse-like stiffness you put on. + Is there no blood left in your veins? Have you no spirit? Don’t you hear + me calling you a coward? Yes, indeed, you are a coward. You should never + have loved me, since you may not be a man. Is it that black robe of yours + which holds you back? Tear it off! When you are naked, perhaps you will + remember yourself again.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest slowly repeated his former words: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have sinned. I had no excuse for my sin. I do penitence for my sin + without hope of pardon. If I tore off my cassock, I should tear away my + very flesh, for I have given myself wholly to God, soul and body. I am a + priest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I! what is to become of me?’ cried Albine. + </p> + <p> + He looked unflinchingly at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘May your sufferings be reckoned against me as so many crimes! May I be + eternally punished for the desertion in which I am forced to leave you! + That will be only just. All unworthy though I be, I pray for you each + night.’ + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders with an air of great discouragement. Her anger + was subsiding. She almost felt inclined to pity him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are mad,’ she murmured. ‘Keep your prayers. It is you yourself that I + want. But you will never understand me. There were so many things I wanted + to tell you! Yet you stand there and irritate me with your chatter of + another world. Come, let us try to talk sensibly. Let us wait for a moment + till we are calmer. You cannot dismiss me in this way, I cannot leave you + here. It is because you are here that you are so corpse-like, so cold that + I dare not touch you. We won’t talk any more just now. We will wait a + little.’ + </p> + <p> + She ceased speaking, and took a few steps, examining the little church. + The rain was still gently pattering against the windows; and the cold damp + light seemed to moisten the walls. Not a sound came from outside save the + monotonous plashing of the rain. The sparrows were doubtless crouching for + shelter under the tiles, and the rowan-tree’s deserted branches showed but + indistinctly in the veiling, drenching downpour. Five o’clock struck, + grated out, stroke by stroke, from the wheezy chest of the old clock; and + then the silence fell again, seeming to grow yet deeper, dimmer, and more + despairing. The priest’s painting work, as yet scarcely dry, gave to the + high altar and the wainscoting an appearance of gloomy cleanliness, like + that of some convent chapel where the sun never shines. Grievous anguish + seemed to fill the nave, splashed with the blood that flowed from the + limbs of the huge Christ; while, along the walls, the fourteen scenes of + the Passion displayed their awful story in red and yellow daubs, reeking + with horror. It was life that was suffering the last agonies there, amidst + that deathlike quiver of the atmosphere, upon those altars which resembled + tombs, in that bare vault which looked like a sepulchre. The surroundings + all spoke of slaughter and gloom, terror and anguish and nothingness. A + faint scent of incense still lingered there, like the last expiring breath + of some dead girl, who had been hurriedly stifled beneath the flagstones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said Albine at last, ‘how sweet it used to be in the sunshine! Don’t + you remember? One morning we walked past a hedge of tall rose bushes, to + the left of the flower-garden. I recollect the very colour of the grass; + it was almost blue, shot with green. When we reached the end of the hedge + we turned and walked back again, so sweet was the perfume of the sunny + air. And we did nothing else, that morning; we took just twenty paces + forward and then twenty paces back. It was so sweet a spot you would not + leave it. The bees buzzed all around; and there was a tomtit that never + left us, but skipped along by our side from branch to branch. You + whispered to me, “How delightful is life!” Ah! life! it was the green + grass, the trees, the running waters, the sky, and the sun, amongst which + we seemed all fair and golden.’ + </p> + <p> + She mused for another moment and then continued: ‘Life ‘twas the Paradou. + How vast it used to seem to us! Never were we able to find the end of it. + The sea of foliage rolled freely with rustling waves as far as the eye + could reach. And all that glorious blue overhead! we were free to grow, + and soar, and roam, like the clouds without meeting more obstacles than + they. The very air was ours!’ + </p> + <p> + She stopped and pointed to the low walls of the church. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, here, you are in a grave. You cannot stretch out your hand without + hurting it against the stones. The roof hides the sky from you and blots + out the sun. It is all so small and confined that your limbs grow stiff + and cramped as though you were buried alive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ answered the priest. ‘The church is wide as the world.’ + </p> + <p> + But she waved her hands towards the crosses, and the dying Christ, and the + pictures of the Passion. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you live in the very midst of death. The grass, the trees, the + springs, the sun, the sky, all are in the death throes around you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; all revives, all grows purified and reascends to the source of + light.’ + </p> + <p> + He had now drawn himself quite erect, with flashing eyes. And feeling that + he was now invincible, so permeated with faith as to disdain temptation, + he quitted the altar, took Albine’s hand, and led her, as though she had + been his sister, to the ghastly pictures of the Stations of the Cross. + </p> + <p> + ‘See,’ he said, ‘this is what God suffered! Jesus is cruelly scourged. + Look! His shoulders are naked; His flesh is torn; His blood flows down His + back.... And Jesus is crowned with thorns. Tears of blood trickle down His + gashed brow. On His temple is a jagged wound.... Again Jesus is insulted + by the soldiers. His murderers have scoffingly thrown a purple robe around + His shoulders, and they spit upon His face and strike Him, and press the + thorny crown deep into His flesh.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine turned away her head, that she might not see the crudely painted + pictures, in which the ochreous flesh of Christ had been plentifully + bedaubed with carmine wounds. The purple robe round His shoulders seemed + like a shred of His skin torn away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why suffer? why die?’ she said. ‘O Serge, if you would only remember!... + You told me, that morning, that you were tired. But I knew that you were + only pretending, for the air was quite cool and we had only been walking + for a quarter of an hour. But you wanted to sit down that you might hold + me in your arms. Right down in the orchard, by the edge of a stream, there + was a cherry tree—you remember it, don’t you?—which you never + could pass without wishing to kiss my hands. And your kisses ran all up my + arms and shoulders to my lips. Cherry time was over, and so you devoured + my lips.... It used to make us feel so sad to see the flowers fading, and + one day, when you found a dead bird in the grass, you turned quite pale, + and caught me to your breast, as if to forbid the earth to take me.’ + </p> + <p> + But the priest drew her towards the other Stations of the Cross. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush! hush!’ he cried, ‘look here, and here! Bow down in grief and pity—— + Jesus falls beneath the weight of His cross. The ascent of Calvary is very + tiring. He has dropped down on His knees. But He does not stay to wipe + even the sweat from His brow, He rises up again and continues His + journey.... And again Jesus falls beneath the weight of His cross. At each + step He staggers. This time He has fallen on His side, so heavily that for + a moment He lies there quite breathless. His lacerated hands have relaxed + their hold upon the cross. His bruised and aching feet leave blood-stained + prints behind them. Agonising weariness overwhelms Him, for He carries + upon His shoulders the sins of the whole world.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine gazed at the pictured Jesus, lying in a blue shirt prostrate + beneath the cross, the blackness of which bedimmed the gold of His + aureole. Then, with her glance wandering far away, she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! those meadow-paths! Have you no memory left, Serge? Have you + forgotten those soft grassy walks through the meadows, amidst very seas of + greenery? On the afternoon I am telling you of, we had only meant to stay + out of doors an hour; but we went wandering on and were still wandering + when the stars came out above us. Ah! how velvety it was, that endless + carpet, soft as finest silk! It was just like a green sea whose gentle + waters lapped us round. And well we knew whither those beguiling paths + that led nowhere, were taking us! They were taking us to our love, to the + joy of living together, to the certainty of happiness.’ + </p> + <p> + With his hands trembling with anguish, Abbé Mouret pointed to the + remaining pictures. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jesus,’ he stammered, ‘Jesus is nailed to the cross. The nails are + hammered through His outspread hands. A single nail suffices for his feet, + whose bones split asunder. He, Himself, while His flesh quivers with pain, + fixes His eyes upon heaven and smiles.... Jesus is crucified between two + thieves. The weight of His body terribly aggravates His wounds. From His + brow, from His limbs, does a bloody sweat stream down. The two thieves + insult Him, the passers-by mock at Him, the soldiers cast lots for His + raiment. And the shadowy darkness grows deeper and the sun hides + himself.... Jesus dies upon the cross. He utters a piercing cry and gives + up the ghost. Oh! most terrible of deaths! The veil of the temple is rent + in twain from top to bottom. The earth quakes, the stones are broken, and + the very graves open.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest had fallen on his knees, his voice choked by sobs, his eyes + fixed upon the three crosses of Calvary, where writhed the gaunt pallid + bodies of the crucified. Albine placed herself in front of the paintings + in order that he might no longer see them. + </p> + <p> + ‘One evening,’ she said, ‘I lay through the long gloaming with my head + upon your lap. It was in the forest, at the end of that great avenue of + chestnut-trees, through which the setting sun shot a parting ray. Ah! what + a caressing farewell He bade us! He lingered awhile by our feet with a + kindly smile, as if saying “Till to-morrow.” The sky slowly grew paler. I + told you merrily that it was taking off its blue gown, and donning its + gold-flowered robe of black to go out for the evening. And it was not + night that fell, but a soft dimness, a veil of love and mystery, reminding + us of those dusky paths, where the foliage arches overhead, one of those + paths in which one hides for a moment with the certainty of finding the + joyousness of daylight at the other end. + </p> + <p> + ‘That evening the calm clearness of the twilight gave promise of a + splendid morrow. When I saw that it did not grow dark as quickly as you + wished, I pretended to fall asleep. I may confess it to you now, but I was + not really sleeping while you kissed me on the eyes. I felt your kisses + and tried to keep from laughing. And then, when the darkness really came, + it was like one long caress. The trees slept no more than I did. At night, + don’t you remember, the flowers always breathed a stronger perfume.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, as he still remained on his knees, while tears streamed down his + face, she caught him by the wrists, and pulled him to his feet, resuming + passionately: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! if you knew you would bid me carry you off; you would fasten your + arms about my neck, lest I should go away without you.... Yesterday I had + a longing to see the garden once more. It seems larger, deeper, more + unfathomable than ever. I discovered there new scents, so sweetly aromatic + that they brought tears into my eyes. In the avenues I found a rain of + sunbeams that thrilled me with desire. The roses spoke to me of you. The + bullfinches were amazed at seeing me alone. All the garden broke out into + sighs. Oh! come! Never has the grass spread itself out more softly. I have + marked with a flower the hidden nook whither I long to take you. It is a + nest of greenery in the midst of a tangle of brushwood. And there one can + hear all the teeming life of the garden, of the trees and the streams and + the sky. The earth’s very breathing will softly lull us to rest there. Oh! + come! come! and let us love one another amidst that universal loving!’ + </p> + <p> + But he pushed her from him. He had returned to the Chapel of the Dead and + stood in front of the painted papier-mache Christ, big as a ten-year-old + boy, that writhed in such horridly realistic agony. There were real iron + nails driven into the figure’s limbs, and the wounds gaped in the torn and + bleeding flesh. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Jesus, Who hast died for us!’ cried the priest, ‘convince her of our + nothingness! Tell her that we are but dust, rottenness, and damnation! Ah! + suffer that I may hide my head in a hair-cloth and rest it against Thy + feet and stay there, motionless, until I rot away in death. The earth will + no longer exist for me. The sun will no longer shine. I shall see nothing + more, feel nothing, hear nothing. Nought of all this wretched world will + come to turn my soul from its adoration of Thee.’ + </p> + <p> + He was gradually becoming more and more excited, and he stepped towards + Albine with upraised hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘You said rightly. It is Death that is present here; Death that is before + my eyes; Death that delivers and saves one from all rottenness. Hear me! I + renounce, I deny life, I wholly refuse it, I spit upon it. Those flowers + of yours stink; your sun dazzles and blinds; your grass makes lepers of + those that lie upon it; your garden is but a charnel-place where all rots + and putrefies. The earth reeks with abomination. You lie when you talk of + love and light and gladsome life in the depths of your palace of greenery. + There is nought but darkness there. Those trees of yours exhale a poison + which transforms men into beasts; your thickets are charged with the venom + of vipers; your streams carry pestilence in their blue waters. If I could + snatch away from that world of nature, which you extol, its kirtle of + sunshine and its girdle of greenery, you would see it hideous like a very + fury, a skeleton, rotting away with disease and vice. + </p> + <p> + ‘And even if you spoke the truth, even if your hands were really filled + with pleasures, even if you should carry me to a couch of roses and offer + me the dreams of Paradise, I would defend myself yet the more desperately + from your embraces. There is war between us; war eternal and implacable. + See! the church is very small; it is poverty-stricken; it is ugly; its + confessional-box and pulpit are made of common deal, its font is merely of + plaster, its altars are formed of four boards which I have painted myself. + But what of that? It is yet vaster than your garden, greater than the + valley, greater, even, than the whole earth. It is an impregnable fortress + which nothing can ever break down. The winds, the sun, the forests, the + ocean, all that is, may combine to assault it; yet it will stand erect and + unshaken for ever! + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, let all the jungles tower aloft and assail the walls with their + thorny arms, let all the legions of insects swarm out of their holes in + the ground and gnaw at the walls; the church, ruinous though it may seem, + will never fall before the invasion of life. It is Death, Death the + inexpugnable!... And do you know what will one day happen? The tiny church + will grow and spread to such a colossal size, and will cast around such a + mighty shadow, that all that nature, you speak of, will give up the ghost. + Ah! Death, the Death of everything, with the skies gaping to receive our + souls, above the curse-stricken ruins of the world!’ + </p> + <p> + As he shouted those last words, he pushed Albine forcibly towards the + door. She, extremely pale, retreated step by step. When he had finished in + a gasping voice she very gravely answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘It is all over, then? You drive me away? Yet, I am your wife. It is you + who made me so. And God, since He permitted it, cannot punish us to such a + point as this.’ + </p> + <p> + She was now on the threshold, and she added: + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen! Every day, at sunset, I go to the end of the garden, to the spot + where the wall has fallen in. I shall wait for you there.’ + </p> + <p> + And then she disappeared. The vestry door fell back with a sound like a + deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + The church was perfectly silent, except for the murmuring sound of the + rain, which was falling heavily once more. In that sudden change to + quietude the priest’s anger subsided, and he even felt moved. It was with + his face streaming with tears, his frame shaken by sobs, that he went back + to throw himself on his knees before the great crucifix. A torrent of + ardent thanksgiving burst from his lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thanks be to Thee, O God, for the help which Thou hast graciously + bestowed upon me. Without Thy grace I should have hearkened unto the + promptings of my flesh, and should have miserably returned to my sin. It + was Thy grace that girded my loins as with armour for battle; Thy grace + was indeed my armour, my courage, the support of my soul, that kept me + erect, beyond weakness. Oh! my God, Thou wert in me; it was Thy voice that + spoke in me, for I no longer felt the cowardice of the flesh, I could have + cut asunder my very heart-strings. And now, O God, I offer Thee my + bleeding heart. It no longer belongs to any creature of this world; it is + Thine alone. To give it to Thee I have wrenched it from all worldly + affection. But think not, O God, that I take any pride to myself for this + victory. I know that without Thee I am nothing; and I humbly cast myself + at Thy feet.’ + </p> + <p> + He sank down upon the altar steps, unable to utter another word, while his + breath panted incense-like from his parted lips. The divine grace bathed + him in ineffable ecstasy. He sought Jesus in the recesses of his being, in + that sanctuary of love which he was ever preparing for His worthy + reception. And Jesus was now present there. The Abbé knew it by the sweet + influences which permeated him. And thereupon he joined with Jesus in that + spiritual converse which at times bore him away from earth to + companionship with God. He sighed out the verse from the ‘Song of + Solomon,’ ‘My beloved is mine, and I am his; He feedeth his flock among + the lilies, until the day be cool, and the shadows flee away.’ He pondered + over the words of the ‘Imitation:’ ‘It is a great art to know how to talk + with Jesus, and it requires much prudence to keep Him near one.’ And then, + with adorable condescension, Jesus came down to him, and spoke with him + for hours of his needs, his happiness, and his hopes. Their confidences + were not less affectionate and touching than those of two friends, who + meet after long separation and quietly retire to converse on the bank of + some lonely stream; for during those hours of divine condescension Jesus + deigned to be his friend, his best, most faithful friend, one who never + forsook him, and who in return for a little love gave him all the + treasures of eternal life. That day the priest was eager to prolong the + sweet converse, and indeed, when six o’clock sounded through the quiet + church, he was still listening to the words which echoed through his soul. + </p> + <p> + On his side there was unreserved confession, unimpeded by the restraints + of language, natural effusion of the heart which spoke even more quickly + than the mind. Abbé Mouret told everything to Jesus, as to a God who had + come down in all the intimacy of the most loving tenderness, and who would + listen to everything. He confessed that he still loved Albine; and he was + surprised that he had been able to speak sternly to her and drive her + away, without his whole being breaking out into revolt. He marvelled at + it, and smiled as though it were some wonderful miracle performed by + another. And Jesus told him that he must not be astonished, and that the + greatest saints were often but unconscious instruments in the hands of + God. Then the Abbé gave expression to a doubt. Had he not lost merit in + seeking refuge in the Cross and even in the Passion of his Saviour? Had he + not shown that he possessed as yet but little courage, since he had not + dared to fight unaided? But Jesus evinced kindly tolerance, and answered + that man’s weakness was God’s continual care, and that He especially loved + those suffering souls, to whose assistance He went, like a friend to the + bedside of a sick companion. + </p> + <p> + But was it a sin to love Albine, a sin for which he, Serge, would be + damned? No; if his love was clean of all fleshly taint, and added another + hope to his desire for eternal life. But, then, how was he to love her? In + silence; without speaking a word to her, without taking a step towards + her; simply allowing his pure affection to breathe forth, like a sweet + perfume, pleasing unto heaven. And Jesus smiled with increasing + kindliness, drawing nearer as if to encourage confession, in such wise + that the priest grew bolder and began to recapitulate Albine’s charms. She + had hair that was fair and golden as an angel’s; she was very white, with + big soft eyes, like those of the aureoled saints. Jesus seemed to listen + to this in silence, though a smile still played upon His face. And the + priest continued: She had grown much taller. She was now like a queen, + with rounded form and splendid shoulders. Oh! to clasp her waist, were it + only for a second, and to feel her shoulders drawn close by his embrace! + But the smile on the divine countenance then paled and died away, as a + star sinks and falls beneath the horizon. Abbé Mouret now spoke all alone. + Ah! had he not shown himself too hard-hearted? Why had he driven her away + without one single word of affection, since Heaven allowed him to love + her? + </p> + <p> + ‘I do love her! I do love her!’ he cried aloud, in a distracted voice, + that rang through the church. + </p> + <p> + He thought he saw her still standing there. She was stretching out her + arms to him; she was beautiful enough to make him break all his vows. He + threw himself upon her bosom without thought of the reverence due to his + surroundings, he clasped her and rained kisses upon her face. It was + before her that he now knelt, imploring her mercy, and beseeching her to + forgive him his unkindness. He told her that, at times a voice which was + not his own spoke through his lips. Could he himself ever have treated her + harshly? It was the strange voice that had repulsed her. It could not, + surely, be he himself, for he would have been unable to touch a hair of + her head without loving emotion. And yet he had driven her away. The + church was really empty! Whither should he hasten to find her again, to + bring her back, and wipe her tears away with kisses? The rain was + streaming down more violently than ever. The roads must be rivers of mud. + He pictured her to himself lashed by the downpour, tottering alongside the + ditches, her clothes soaked and clinging to her skin. No! no! it could not + have been himself; it was that other voice, the jealous voice that had so + cruelly sought to slay his love. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Jesus!’ he cried in desperation, ‘be merciful and give her back to me!’ + </p> + <p> + But his Lord was no longer there. Then Abbé Mouret, awaking with a start, + turned horribly pale. He understood it all. He had not known how to keep + Jesus with him. He had lost his friend, and had been left defenceless + against the powers of evil. Instead of that inward light, which had shone + so brightly within him as he received his God, he now found utter + darkness, a foul vapour that irritated his senses. Jesus had withdrawn His + grace on leaving him; and he, who since early morning had been so strong + with heaven-sent help, now felt utterly miserable, forsaken, weak and + helpless as an infant. How frightful was his fall! How galling its + bitterness! To have straggled so heroically, to have remained unshaken, + invincible, implacable, while the temptress actually stood before him, + with all her warm life, her swelling bosom and superb shoulders, her + perfume of love and passion; and then to fall so shamefully, to throb with + desire, when she had disappeared, leaving behind her but the echo of her + skirts, and the fragrance diffused from her white neck! Now, these mere + recollections sufficed to make her all powerful, her influence permeated + the church. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jesus! Jesus!’ cried the priest, once more, ‘return, come back to me; + speak to me once again!’ + </p> + <p> + But Jesus remained deaf to his cry. For a moment Abbé Mouret raised his + arms to heaven in desperate entreaty. His shoulders cracked and strained + beneath the wild violence of his supplications. But soon his hands fell + down again in discouragement. Heaven preserved that hopeless silence which + suppliants at times encounter. Then he once more sat down on the altar + steps, heart-crushed and with ashen face, pressing his elbows to his + sides, as though he were trying to reduce his flesh to the smallest + proportions possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘My God! Thou deserted me!’ he murmured. ‘Nevertheless, Thy will be done!’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke not another word, but sat there, panting breathlessly, like a + hunted beast that cowers motionless in fear of the hounds. Ever since his + sin, he had thus seemed to be the sport of the divine grace. It denied + itself to his most ardent prayers; it poured down upon him, unexpectedly + and refreshingly, when he had lost all hope of winning it for long years + to come. + </p> + <p> + At first he had been inclined to rebel against this dispensation of + Heaven, complaining like a betrayed lover, and demanding the immediate + return of that consoling grace, whose kiss made him so strong. But + afterwards, after unavailing outbursts of anger, he had learned to + understand that humility profited him most and could alone enable him to + endure the withdrawal of the divine assistance. Then, for hours and for + days, he would humble himself and wait for comfort which came not. In vain + he cast himself unreservedly into the hands of God, annihilated himself + before the Divinity, wearied himself with the incessant repetition of + prayers. He could not perceive God’s presence with him; and his flesh, + breaking free from all restraint, rose up in rebellious desire. It was a + slow agony of temptation, in which the weapons of faith fell, one by one, + from his faltering hands, in which he lay inert in the clutch of passion, + in which he beheld with horror his own ignominy, without having the + courage to raise his little finger to free himself from the thraldom of + sin. + </p> + <p> + Such was now his life. He had felt sin’s attacks in every form. Not a day + passed that he was not tried. Sin assumed a thousand guises, assailed him + through his eyes and ears, flew boldly at his throat, leaped treacherously + upon his shoulders, or stole torturingly into his bones. His transgression + was ever present, he almost always beheld Albine dazzling as the sunshine, + lighting up the greenery of the Paradou. He only ceased to see her in + those rare moments when the divine grace deigned to close his eyes with + its cool caresses. And he strove to hide his sufferings as one hides those + of some disgraceful disease. He wrapped himself in the endless silence, + which no one knew how to make him break, filling the parsonage with his + martyrdom and resignation, and exasperating La Teuse, who, at times, when + his back was turned, would shake her fist at heaven. + </p> + <p> + This time he was alone now, and need take no care to hide his torment. Sin + had just struck him such an overwhelming blow, that he had not strength + left to move from the altar steps, where he had fallen. He remained there, + sighing, and groaning, parched with agony, incapable of a single tear. And + he thought of the calm unruffled life that had once been his. Ah! the + perfect peace, the full confidence of his first days at Les Artaud! The + path of salvation had seemed so straight and easy then! He had smiled at + the very mention of temptation. He had lived in the midst of wickedness, + without knowledge of it, without fear of it, certain of being able to + withstand it. He had been a model priest, so pure and chaste, so + inexperienced and innocent in God’s sight, that God had led him by the + hand like a little child. + </p> + <p> + But now, all that childlike innocence was dead, God visited him in the + morning, and forthwith tried him. A state of temptation became his life on + earth. Now that full manhood and sin had come upon him, he entered into + the everlasting struggle. Could it be that God really loved him more now + than before? The great saints have all left fragments of their torn flesh + upon the thorns of the way of sorrow. He tried to gather some consolation + from this circumstance. At each laceration of his flesh, each racking of + his bones, he tried to assure himself of some exceeding great reward. And + then, no infliction that Heaven might now cast upon him could be too + heavy. He even looked back with scorn on his former serenity, his easy + fervour, which had set him on his knees with mere girlish enthusiasm, and + left him unconscious even of the bruising of the hard stones. He strove + also to discover pleasure in pain, in plunging into it, annihilating + himself in it. But, even while he poured out thanks to God, his teeth + chattered with growing terror, and the voice of his rebellious blood cried + out to him that this was all falsehood, and that the only happiness worth + desiring was in Albine’s arms, amongst the flowers of the Paradou. + </p> + <p> + Yet he had put aside Mary for Jesus, sacrificing his heart that he might + subdue his flesh, and hoping to implant some virility in his faith. Mary + disquieted him too much, with her smoothly braided hair, her outstretched + hands, and her womanly smile. He could never kneel before her without + dropping his eyes, for fear of catching sight of the hem of her dress. + Then, too, he accused her of having treated him too tenderly in former + times. She had kept him sheltered so long within the folds of her robe, + that he had let himself slip from her arms to those of a human creature + without being conscious even of the change of his affection. He thought of + all the roughness of Brother Archangias, of his refusal to worship Mary, + of the distrustful glances with which he had seemed to watch her. He + himself despaired of ever rising to such a height of roughness, and so he + simply left her, hiding her images and deserting her altar. Yet she + remained in his heart, like some love which, though unavowed, is ever + present. Sin, with sacrilege whose very horror made him shudder, made use + of her to tempt him. + </p> + <p> + Whenever he still invoked her, as he did at times of irrepressible + emotion, it was Albine who showed herself beneath the white veil, with the + blue scarf knotted round her waist and the golden roses blooming on her + bare feet. All the representations of the Virgin, the Virgin with the + royal mantle of cloth-of-gold, the Virgin crowned with stars, the Virgin + visited by the Angel of the Annunciation, the peaceful Virgin poised + between a lily and a distaff, all brought him some memory of Albine, her + smiling eyes or her delicately curved mouth or her softly rounded cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, by a supreme effort, he drove the female element from his + worship, and sought refuge in Jesus, though even His gentle mildness + sometimes proved a source of disquietude to him. What he needed was a + jealous God, an implacable God, the Jehovah of the Old Testament, girded + with thunder and manifesting Himself only to chastise the terrified world. + He had done with the saints and the angels and the Divine Mother; he bowed + down before God Himself alone, the omnipotent Master, who demanded from + him his every breath. And he felt the hand of this God laid heavily upon + him, holding him helpless at His mercy through space and time, like a + guilty atom. Ah! to be nothing, to be damned, to dream of hell, to wrestle + vainly against hideous temptations, all that was surely good. + </p> + <p> + From Jesus he took but the cross. He was seized with that passion for the + cross which has made so many lips press themselves again and again to the + crucifix till they were worn away with kissing. He took up the cross and + followed Jesus. He sought to make it heavier, the mightiest of burdens; it + was great joy to him to fall beneath its weight, to drag it on his knees, + his back half broken. In it he beheld the only source of strength for the + soul, of joy for the mind, of the consummation of virtue and the + perfection of holiness. In it lay all that was good; all ended in death + upon it. To suffer and to die, those words ever sounded in his ears, as + the end and goal of mortal wisdom. And, when he had fastened himself to + the cross, he enjoyed the boundless consolation of God’s love. It was no + longer, now, upon Mary that he lavished filial tenderness or lover’s + passion. He loved for love’s mere sake, with an absolute abstract love. He + loved God with a love that lifted him out of himself, out of all else, and + wrapped him round with a dazzling radiance of glory. He was like a torch + that burns away with blazing light. And death seemed to him to be only a + great impulse of love. + </p> + <p> + But what had he omitted to do that he was thus so sorely tried? With his + hand he wiped away the perspiration that streamed down his brow, and + reflected that, that very morning, he had made his usual self-examination + without finding any great guilt within him. Was he not leading a life of + great austerity and mortification of the flesh? Did he not love God solely + and blindly? Ah! how he would have blessed His Holy Name had He only + restored him his peace, deeming him now sufficiently punished for his + transgression! But, perhaps, that sin of his could never be expiated. And + then, in spite of himself, his mind reverted to Albine and the Paradou, + and all their memories. + </p> + <p> + At first he tried to make excuses for himself. He had fallen, one evening, + senseless upon the tiled floor of his bedroom, stricken with brain fever. + For three weeks he had remained unconscious. His blood surged furiously + through his veins and raged within him like a torrent that had burst its + banks. His whole body, from the crown of his head to the soles of his + feet, was so scoured and renewed and wrought afresh by the mighty + labouring of his ailment, that in his delirium he had sometimes thought he + could hear the very hammer blows of workmen that nailed his bones together + again. Then, one morning, he had awakened, feeling like a new being. He + was born a second time, freed of all that his five-and-twenty years of + life had successively implanted in him. His childish piety, his education + at the seminary, the faith of his early priesthood, had all vanished, had + been carried off, and their place was bare and empty. In truth, it could + be hell alone that had thus prepared him for the reception of evil, + disarming him of all his former weapons, and reducing his body to languor + and softness, through which sin might readily enter. + </p> + <p> + He, perfectly unconscious of it all, unknowingly surrendered himself to + the gradual approach of evil. When he had reopened his eyes in the + Paradou, he had felt himself an infant once more, with no memory of the + past, no knowledge of his priesthood. He experienced a gentle pleasure, a + glad feeling of surprise at thus beginning life afresh, as though it were + all new and strange to him and would be delightful to learn. Oh! the sweet + apprenticeship, the charming observations, the delicious discoveries! That + Paradou was a vast abode of felicity; and hell, in placing him there, had + known full well that he would be defenceless. Never, in his first youth, + had he known such enjoyment in growing. That first youth of his, when he + now thought of it, seemed quite black and gloomy, graceless, wan and + inactive, as if it had been spent far away from the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + But at the Paradou, how joyfully had he hailed the sun! How admiringly had + he gazed at the first tree, at the first flower, at the tiniest insect he + had seen, at the most insignificant pebble he had picked up! The very + stones charmed him. The horizon was a source of never-ending amazement. + One clear morning, the memory of which still filled his eyes, bringing + back a perfume of jasmine, a lark’s clear song, he had been so affected by + emotion that he felt all power desert his limbs. He had long found + pleasure in learning the sensations of life. And, ah! the morning when + Albine had been born beside him amidst the roses! As he thought of it, an + ecstatic smile broke out upon his face. She rose up like a star that was + necessary to the very sun’s existence. She illumined everything, she made + everything clear. She made his life complete. + </p> + <p> + Then in fancy he once again walked with her through the Paradou. He + remembered the little curls that waved behind her neck as she ran on + before him. She exhaled delicious scent, and the touch of her warm swaying + skirts seemed like a caress. And when she clasped him with her supple + curving arms, he half expected to see her, so slight and slender she was, + twine herself around him. It was she who went foremost. She led him + through winding paths, where they loitered, that their walk might last the + longer. It was she who instilled into him love for nature; and it was by + watching the loves of the plants that he had learned to love her, with a + love that was long, indeed, in bursting into life, but whose sweetness had + been theirs at last. Beneath the shade of the giant tree they had reached + their journey’s goal. Oh! to clasp her once again—yet once again! + </p> + <p> + A low groan suddenly came from the priest. He hastily sprang up and then + flung himself down again. Temptation had just assailed him afresh. Into + what paths were his recollections leading him? Did he not know, only too + well, that Satan avails himself of every wile to insinuate his + serpent-head into the soul, even when it is absorbed in self-examination? + No! no! he had no excuse. His illness had in no wise authorised him to + sin. He should have set strict guard upon himself, and have sought God + anew upon recovering from his fever. And what a frightful proof he now had + of his vileness: he was not even able to make calm confession of his sin. + Would he never be able to silence his nature? He wildly thought of + scooping his brains out of his skull that he might be able to think no + more, and of opening his veins that his blood might no longer torment him. + For a moment he buried his face within his hands, shuddering as though the + beasts that he felt prowling around him might infect him with the hot + breath of temptation. + </p> + <p> + But his thoughts strayed on in spite of himself, and his blood throbbed + wildly in his very heart. Though he held his clenched fists to his eyes, + he still saw Albine, dazzling like a sun. Every effort that he made to + press the vision from his sight only made her shine out before him with + increased brilliancy. Was God, then, utterly forsaking him, that he could + find no refuge from temptation? And, in spite of all his efforts to + control his thoughts, he espied every tiny blade of grass that thrust + itself up by Albine’s skirts; he saw a little thistle-flower fastened in + her hair, against which he remembered that he had pricked his lips. Even + the perfumed atmosphere of the Paradou floated round him, and + well-remembered sounds came back, the repeated call of a bird, then an + interval of hushed silence, then a sigh floating through the trees. + </p> + <p> + Why did not Heaven at once strike him dead with its lightning? That would + have been less cruel. It was with a voluptuous pang, like the pangs which + assail the damned, that he recalled his transgression. He shuddered when + he again heard in his heart the abominable words that he had spoken at + Albine’s feet. Their echoes were now accusing him before the throne of + God. He had acknowledged Woman as his sovereign. He had yielded to her as + a slave, kissing her feet, longing to be the water she drank and the bread + she ate. He began to understand now why he could no longer recover + self-control. God had given him over to Woman. But he would chastise her, + scourge her, break her very limbs to force her to let him go! It was she + who was the slave; she, the creature of impurity, to whom the Church + should have denied a soul. Then he braced himself, and shook his fists at + the vision of Albine; but his fists opened and his hands glided along her + shoulders in a loving caress, while his lips, just now breathing out anger + and insult, pressed themselves to her hair, stammering forth words of + adoration. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret opened his eyes again. The burning apparition of Albine + vanished. It was sudden and unexpected solace. He was able to weep. Tears + flowed slowly and refreshingly down his cheeks, and he drew a long breath, + still fearing to move, lest the Evil One should again grip him by the + neck, for he yet thought that he heard the snarl of a beast behind him. + And then he found such pleasure in the cessation of his sufferings that + his one thought was to prolong the enjoyment of it. + </p> + <p> + Outside the rain had ceased falling. The sun was setting in a vast crimson + glow, which spread across the windows like curtains of rose-coloured + satin. The church was quite warm and bright in the parting breath of the + sinking luminary. The priest thanked God for the respite He had been + pleased to vouchsafe to him. A broad ray of light, like a beam of + gold-dust, streamed through the nave and illumined the far end of the + building, the clock, the pulpit, and the high altar. Perhaps the Divine + grace was returning to him from heaven along that radiant path. He watched + with interest the atoms that came and went with prodigious speed through + the ray, like a swarm of busy messengers ever hastening with news from the + sun to the earth. A thousand lighted candles would not have filled the + church with such splendour. Curtains of cloth-of-gold seemed to hang + behind the high altar; treasures of the goldsmith’s art covered all the + ledges; candle-holders arose in dazzling sheaves; censers glowed full of + burning gems; sacred vases gleamed like fiery comets; and around all there + seemed to be a rain of luminous flowers amidst waving lacework—beds, + bouquets, and garlands of roses, from whose expanding petals dropped + showers of stars. + </p> + <p> + Never had Abbé Mouret desired such magnificence for his poor church. He + smiled, and dreamt of how he might retain all that splendour there, and + then arrange it most effectively. He would have preferred to see the + curtains of cloth-of-gold hung rather higher; the vases, too, needed more + careful arrangement; and he thought that the bouquets of flowers might be + tied up more neatly, and the garlands be more regularly shaped. Yet how + wondrously magnificent it all was! He was the pontiff of a church of gold. + Bishops, princes, princesses, arrayed in royal mantles, multitudes of + believers, bending to the ground, were coming to visit it, encamping in + the valley, waiting for weeks at the door until they should be able to + enter. They kissed his feet, for even his feet had turned to gold, and + worked miracles. The bath of gold mounted to his knees. A golden heart was + beating within his golden breast, with so clear a musical pulsation that + the waiting crowds could hear it from outside. Then a feeling of + overweening pride seized upon him. He was an idol. The golden beam mounted + still higher, the high altar was all ablaze with glory, and the priest + grew certain that the Divine grace must be returning to him, such was his + inward satisfaction. The fierce snarl behind him had now grown gentle and + coaxing, and he only felt on his shoulder a soft velvety pressure, as + though some giant cat were lightly caressing him. + </p> + <p> + He still pursued his reverie. Never before had he seen things under such a + favourable light. Everything seemed quite easy to him now that he once + more felt full of strength. Since Albine was waiting for him, he would go + and join her. It was only natural. On the previous morning he had married + Fortune and Rosalie. The Church did not forbid marriages. He saw that + young couple again as they knelt before him, smiling and nudging each + other while his hands were held over them in benediction. Then, in the + evening, they had shown him their room. Each word that he had spoken to + them echoed loudly in his ear. He had told Fortune that God had sent him a + companion, because He did not wish man to live alone; and he had told + Rosalie that she must cleave to her husband, never leaving him, but always + acting as his obedient helpmate. But he had said these things also for + Albine and himself. Was she not his companion, his obedient helpmate, whom + God had sent to him that his manhood might not wither up in solitude? + Besides, they had been joined the one to the other. He felt surprised that + he had not understood and recognised it at once; that he had not gone away + with her, as his duty plainly required that he should have done. But he + had quite made up his mind now; he would certainly join her in the + morning. He could be with her in half an hour. He would go through the + village, and take the road up the hill; it was much the shortest way. He + could do what he pleased; he was the master, and no one would presume to + say anything to him. If any one looked at him, a wave of his hand would + force them to bend their heads. He would live with Albine. He would call + her his wife. They would be very happy together. + </p> + <p> + The golden stream mounted still higher, and played amongst his fingers. + Again did he seem to be immersed in a bath of gold. He would take the + altar-vases away to ornament his house, he would keep up a fine + establishment, he would pay his servants with fragments of chalices which + he could easily break with his fingers. He would hang his bridal-bed with + the cloth-of-gold that draped the altar; and he would give his wife for + jewels the golden hearts and chaplets and crosses that hung from the necks + of the Virgin and the saints. The church itself, if another storey were + added to it, would supply them with a palace. God would have no objection + to make since He had allowed them to love each other. And, besides, was it + not he who was now God, with the people kissing his golden miracle-working + feet? + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret rose. He made that sweeping gesture of Jeanbernat’s, that wide + gesture of negation, that took in everything as far as the horizon. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing, nothing, nothing!’ he said. ‘God does not exist.’ + </p> + <p> + A mighty shudder seemed to sweep through the church. The terrified priest + turned deadly pale and listened. Who had spoken? Who was it that had + blasphemed? Suddenly the velvety caress, whose gentle pressure he had felt + upon his shoulder, turned fierce and savage: sharp talons seemed to be + rending his flesh, and once more he felt his blood streaming forth. Yet he + remained on his feet, struggling against the sudden attack. He cursed and + reviled the triumphant sin that sniggered and grinned round his temples, + whilst all the hammers of the Evil One battered at them. Why had he not + been on his guard against Satan’s wiles? Did he not know full well that it + was his habit to glide up softly with gentle paws that he might drive them + like blades into the very vitals of his victim? + </p> + <p> + His anger increased as he thought how he had been entrapped, like a mere + child. Was he destined, then, to be ever hurled to the ground, with sin + crouching victoriously on his breast? This time he had actually denied his + God. It was all one fatal descent. His transgression had destroyed his + faith, and then dogma had tottered. One single doubt of the flesh, + pleading abomination, sufficed to sweep heaven away. The divine ordinances + irritated one; the divine mysteries made one smile. Then came other + temptations and allurements; gold, power, unrestrained liberty, an + irresistible longing for enjoyment, culminating in luxuriousness, + sprawling on a bed of wealth and pride. And then God was robbed. His + vessels were broken to adorn woman’s impurity. Ah! well, then, he was + damned. Nothing could make any difference to him now. Sin might speak + aloud. It was useless to struggle further. The monsters who had hovered + about his neck were battening on his vitals now. He yielded to them with + hideous satisfaction. He shook his fists at the church. No; he believed no + longer in the divinity of Christ; he believed no longer in the Holy + Trinity; he believed in naught but himself, and his muscles and the + appetites of his body. He wanted to live. He felt the necessity of being a + man. Oh! to speed along through the open air, to be lusty and strong, to + owe obedience to no jealous master, to fell one’s enemies with stones, to + carry off the fair maidens that passed upon one’s shoulders. He would + break out from that living tomb where cruel hands had thrust him. He would + awaken his manhood, which had only been slumbering. And might he die of + shame if he should find that it were really dead! And might the Divinity + be accursed if, by the touch of His finger, He had made him different from + the rest of mankind. + </p> + <p> + The priest stood erect, his mind all dazed and scared. He fancied that, at + this fresh outburst of blasphemy, the church was falling down upon him. + The sunlight, which had poured over the high altar, had gradually spread + and mounted the walls like ruddy fire. Flames soared and licked the + rafters, then died away in a sanguineous, ember-like glow. And all at once + the church became quite black. It was as though the fires of the setting + sun had burst the roof asunder, pierced the walls, thrown open wide + breaches on every side to some exterior foe. The gloomy framework seemed + to shake beneath some violent assault. Night was coming on quickly. + </p> + <p> + Then, in the far distance, the priest heard a gentle murmur rising from + the valley of Les Artaud. The time had been when he had not understood the + impassioned language of those burning lands, where writhed but knotted + vine-stocks, withered almond-trees, and decrepit olives sprawling with + crippled limbs. Protected by his ignorance, he had passed undisturbed + through all that world of passion. But, to-day, his ear detected the + slightest sigh of the leaves that lay panting in the heat. Afar off, on + the edge of the horizon, the hills, still hot with the sinking luminary’s + farewell, seemed to set themselves in motion with the tramp of an army on + the march. Nearer at hand, the scattered rocks, the stones along the road, + all the pebbles in the valley, throbbed and rolled as if possessed by a + craving for motion. Then the tracts of ruddy soil, the few fields that had + been reduced to cultivation, seemed to heave and growl like rivers that + had burst their banks, bearing along in a blood-like flood the + engenderings of seeds, the births of roots, the embraces of plants. Soon + everything was in motion. The vine-branches appeared to crawl along like + huge insects; the parched corn and the dry grass formed into dense, + lance-waving battalions; the trees stretched out their boughs like + wrestlers making ready for a contest; the fallen leaves skipped forward; + the very dust on the road rolled on. It was a moving multitude reinforced + by fresh recruits at every step; a legion, the sound of whose coming went + on in front of it; an outburst of passionate life, sweeping everything + along in a mighty whirlwind of fruitfulness. And all at once the assault + began. From the limits of the horizon, the whole countryside, the hills + and stones and fields and trees, rushed upon the church. At the first + shock, the building quivered and cracked. The walls were pierced and the + tiles on the roof were thrown down. But the great Christ, although shaken, + did not fall. + </p> + <p> + A short respite followed. Outside, the voices sounded more angrily, and + the priest could now distinguish human ones amongst them. The Artauds, + those bastards who sprang up out of the rocky soil with the persistence of + brambles, were now in their turn blowing a blast that reeked of teeming + life. They had planted everywhere forests of humanity that swallowed up + all around them. They came up to the church, they shattered the door with + a push, and threatened to block up the very nave with the invading scions + of their race. Behind them came the beasts; the oxen that tried to batter + down the walls with their horns, the flocks of asses, goats, and sheep, + that dashed against the ruined church like living waves, while swarms of + wood-lice and crickets attacked the foundations and reduced them to dust + with their sawlike teeth. Yet again, on the other side, there was + Desirée’s poultry-yard, where the dunghill reeked with suffocating fumes. + Here the big cock, Alexander, sounded the assault, and the hens loosened + the stones with their beaks, and the rabbits burrowed under the very + altars; whilst the pig, too fat to stir, grunted and waited till all the + sacred ornaments should be reduced to warm ashes in which he might wallow + at his ease. + </p> + <p> + A great roar ascended, and a second assault was delivered. The villagers, + the animals, all that overflowing sea of life assailed the church with + such impetuosity that the rafters bent and curved. This time a part of the + walls tottered and fell down, the ceiling shook, the woodwork of the + windows was carried away, and the grey mist of the evening streamed in + through the frightful gaping breaches. The great Christ now only clung to + His cross by the nail that pierced His left hand. + </p> + <p> + A mighty shout hailed the downfall of the block of wall. Yet the church + still stood there firmly, in spite of the injuries it had received. It + offered a stern, silent, unflinching resistance, clutching desperately to + the tiniest stones of its foundations. It seemed as though, to keep itself + from falling, it required only the support of its slenderest pillar, + which, by some miracle of equilibration, held up the gaping roof. Then + Abbé Mouret beheld the rude plants of the plateau, the dreadful-looking + growths that had become hard as iron amidst the arid rocks, that were + knotted like snakes and bossy with muscles, set themselves to work. The + rust-hued lichens gnawed away at the rough plasterwork like fiery leprosy. + Then the thyme-plants thrust their roots between the bricks like so many + iron wedges. The lavenders insinuated hooked fingers into the loosened + stonework, and by slow persistent efforts tore the blocks asunder. The + junipers, the rosemaries, the prickly holly bushes, climbed higher and + battered the walls with irresistible blows; and even the grass, the grass + whose dry blades slipped beneath the great door, stiffened itself into + steel-like spears and made its way down the nave, where it forced up the + flagstones with powerful levers. It was a victorious revolt, it was + revolutionary nature constructing barricades out of the overturned altars, + and wrecking the church which had for centuries cast too deep a shadow + over it. The other combatants had fallen back, and let the plants, the + thyme and the lavender and the lichens, complete the overthrow of the + building with their ceaseless little blows, their constant gnawing, which + proved more destructive than the heavier onslaught of the stronger + assailants. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, the end came. The rowan-tree, whose topmost branches had + already forced their way through the broken windows under the vaulted + roof, rushed in violently with its formidable stream of greenery. It + planted itself in the centre of the nave and grew there monstrously. Its + trunk expanded till its girth became so colossal that it seemed as though + it would burst the church asunder like a girdle spanning it too closely. + Its branches shot out in knotted arms, each one of which broke down a + piece of the wall or thrust off a strip of the roof, and they went on + multiplying without cessation, each branch ramifying, till a fresh tree + sprang out of each single knot, with such impetuosity of growth that the + ruins of the church, pierced through and through like a sieve, flew into + fragments, scattering a fine dust to the four quarters of the heavens. + </p> + <p> + Now the giant tree seemed to reach the stars; its forest of branches was a + forest of legs, arms, and breasts full of sap; the long locks of women + streamed down from it; men’s heads burst out from the bark; and up aloft + pairs of lovers, lying languid by the edges of their nests, filled the air + with the music of their delights. + </p> + <p> + A final blast of the storm which had broken over the church swept away the + dust of its remains: the pulpit and the confessional-box, which had been + ground into powder, the lacerated holy pictures, the shattered sacred + vessels, all the litter at which the legion of sparrows that had once + dwelt amongst the tiles was eagerly pecking. The great Christ, torn from + the cross, hung for a moment from one of the streaming women’s curls, and + then was whirled away into the black darkness, in the depths of which it + sank with a loud crash. The Tree of Life had pierced the heavens; it + overtopped the stars. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret was filled with the mad joy of an accursed spirit at the sight + before him. The church was vanquished; God no longer had a house. And + thenceforward God could no longer trouble him. He was free to rejoin + Albine, since it was she who triumphed. He laughed at himself for having + declared, an hour previously, that the church would swallow up the whole + earth with its shadow. The earth, indeed, had avenged itself by consuming + the church. The mad laughter into which he broke had the effect of + suddenly awakening him from his hallucination. He gazed stupidly round the + nave, which the evening shadows were slowly darkening. Through the windows + he could see patches of star-spangled sky; and he was about to stretch out + his arms to feel the walls, when he heard Desirée calling to him from the + vestry-passage: + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge! Are you there? Why don’t you answer? I have been looking + for you for this last half-hour.’ + </p> + <p> + She came in; she was holding a lighted lamp; and the priest then saw that + the church was still standing. He could no longer understand anything, but + remained in a horrible state of doubt betwixt the unconquerable church, + springing up again from its ashes, and Albine, the all-powerful, who could + shake the very throne of God by a single breath. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <h3> + Desirée came up to him, full of merry chatter. + </h3> + <p> + ‘Are you there? Are you there?’ she cried. ‘Why are you playing at + hide-and-seek? I called out to you at the top of my voice at least a dozen + times. I thought you must have gone out.’ + </p> + <p> + She pried into all the gloomy corners with an inquisitive glance, and even + stepped up to the confessional-box, as though she had expected to surprise + some one hiding there. Then she came back to Serge, disappointed, and + continued: + </p> + <p> + ‘So you are quite alone? Have you been asleep? What amusement do you find + in shutting yourself up all alone in the dark? Come along; it is time we + went to dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + The Abbé drew his feverish hands across his brow to wipe away the traces + of the thoughts which he feared were plain for all the world to read. He + fumbled mechanically at the buttons of his cassock, which seemed to him + all disarranged. Then he followed his sister with stern-set face and never + a sign of emotion, stiffened by that priestly energy which throws the + dignity of sacerdotalism like a veil over the agonies of the flesh. + Desirée did not even suspect that there was anything the matter with him. + She simply said as they entered the dining-room: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have had such a good sleep; but you have been talking too much, and + have made yourself quite pale.’ + </p> + <p> + In the evening, after dinner, Brother Archangias came in to have his game + of cards with La Teuse. He was in a very merry mood that night; and, when + the Brother was merry, it was his habit to prod La Teuse in the sides with + his big fists, an attention which she returned by heartily boxing his + ears. This skirmishing made them both laugh, with a laughter that shook + the very ceiling. The Brother, too, when he was in these gay humours, + would devise all kinds of pranks. He would try to smash plates with his + nose, and would offer to wager that he could break through the dining-room + door in battering-ram fashion. He would also empty the snuff out of his + box into the old servant’s coffee, or would thrust a handful of pebbles + down her neck. The merest trifle would give rise to these noisy outbursts + of gaiety in the very midst of his wonted surliness. Some little incident, + at which nobody else laughed, often sufficed to throw him into a state of + wild hilarity, make him stamp his feet, twirl himself round like a top, + and hold in his splitting sides. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it that makes you so gay to-night?’ La Teuse inquired. + </p> + <p> + He made no reply, bestriding a chair and galloping round the table on it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! well! go on making a baby of yourself!’ said the old woman; ‘and, + my gracious, what a big baby you are! If the Lord is looking at you, He + must be very well pleased with you!’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother had just slipped off the chair and was lying on the floor, + with his legs in the air. + </p> + <p> + ‘He does see me, and is pleased to see me as I am. It is His wish that I + should be gay. When He wishes me to be merry for a time, He rings a bell + in my body, and then I begin to roll about; and all Paradise smiles as it + watches me.’ + </p> + <p> + He dragged himself on his back to the wall, and then, supporting himself + on the nape of his neck, he hoisted up his body as high as he could and + began drumming on the wall with his heels. His cassock slipped down and + exposed to view his black breeches, which were patched at the knees with + green cloth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look, Monsieur le Curé,’ he said, ‘you see how high I can reach with my + heels. I dare bet that you couldn’t do as much. Come! look amused and + laugh a little. It is better to drag oneself along on one’s back than to + think about a hussy as you are always doing. You know what I mean. For my + part, when I take to scratching myself I imagine myself to be God’s dog, + and that’s what makes me say that all Paradise looks out of the windows to + smile at me. You might just as well laugh too, Monsieur le Curé. It’s all + done for the saints and you. See! here’s a turn-over for Saint Joseph; + here’s another for Saint Michael, and another for Saint John, and another + for Saint Mark, and another for Saint Matthew——’ + </p> + <p> + So he went on, enumerating a whole string of saints, and turning + somersaults all round the room. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret, who had been sitting in perfect silence, with his hands + resting on the edge of the table, was at last constrained to smile. As a + rule, the Brother’s sportiveness only disquieted him. La Teuse, as + Archangias rolled within her reach, kicked at him with her foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come!’ she said, ‘are we to have our game to-night?’ + </p> + <p> + His only reply was a grunt. Then, upon all fours, he sprang towards La + Teuse as if he meant to bite her. But in lieu thereof he spat upon her + petticoats. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me alone! will you?’ she cried. ‘What are you up to now? I begin to + think you have gone crazy. What it is that amuses you so much I can’t + conceive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What makes me gay is my own affair,’ he replied, rising to his feet and + shaking himself. ‘It is not necessary to explain it to you, La Teuse. + However, as you want a game of cards, let us have it.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the game began. It was a terrible struggle. The Brother hurled his + cards upon the table. Whenever he cried out the windows shook sonorously. + La Teuse at last seemed to be winning. She had secured three aces for some + time already, and was casting longing eyes at the fourth. But Brother + Archangias began to indulge in fresh outbursts of gaiety. He pushed up the + table, at the risk of breaking the lamp. He cheated outrageously, and + defended himself by means of the most abominable lies, ‘Just for a joke,’ + said he. Then he suddenly began to sing the ‘Vespers,’ beating time on the + palm of his left hand with his cards. When his gaiety reached a climax, + and he could find no adequate means of expressing it, he always took to + chanting the ‘Vespers,’ which he repeated for hours at a time. La Teuse, + who well knew his habits, cried out to him, amidst the bellowing with + which he shook the room: + </p> + <p> + ‘Make a little less noise, do! It is quite distracting. You are much too + lively to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + But he set to work on the ‘Complines.’ Abbé Mouret had now seated himself + by the window. He appeared to pay no attention to what went on around him, + apparently neither hearing nor seeing anything of it. At dinner he had + eaten with his ordinary appetite and had even managed to reply to + Desirée’s everlasting rattle of questions. But now he had given up the + struggle, his strength at an end, racked, exhausted as he was by the + internal tempest that still raged within him. He even lacked the courage + to rise from his seat and go upstairs to his own room. Moreover, he was + afraid that if he turned his face towards the lamplight, the tears, which + he could no longer keep from his eyes, would be noticed. So he pressed his + face close to the window and gazed out into the darkness, growing + gradually more drowsy, sinking into a kind of nightmare stupor. + </p> + <p> + Brother Archangias, still busy at his psalm-singing, winked and nodded in + the direction of the dozing priest. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ asked La Teuse. + </p> + <p> + The Brother replied by a yet more significant wink. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what do you mean? Can’t you speak? Ah! there’s a king. That’s + capital!—so I take your queen.’ + </p> + <p> + The Brother laid down his cards, bent over the table, and whispered close + to La Teuse’s face: ‘That hussy has been here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know that well enough,’ answered La Teuse. ‘I saw her go with + mademoiselle into the poultry-yard.’ + </p> + <p> + At this he gave her a terrible look, and shook his fist in her face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You saw her, and you let her come in! You ought to have called me, and we + would have hung her up by the feet to a nail in your kitchen.’ + </p> + <p> + But at this the old woman lost her temper, and, lowering her voice solely + in order that she might not awaken Abbé Mouret, she replied: ‘Don’t you go + talking about hanging people up in my kitchen! I certainly saw her, and I + even kept my back turned when she went to join his reverence in the church + when the catechising was over. But all that was no business of mine. I had + my cooking to attend to! As for the girl herself, I detest her. But if his + reverence wishes to see her—why, she is welcome to come whenever she + pleases. I’d let her in myself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you were to do that, La Teuse,’ retorted the Brother ragefully, ‘I + would strangle you, that I would.’ + </p> + <p> + But she laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t talk any of your nonsense to me, my man! Don’t you know that it is + forbidden you to lay your hands upon a woman, just as it’s forbidden for a + donkey to have anything to do with the <i>Pater Noster</i>? Just you try + to strangle me and you’ll see what I’ll do! But do be quiet now, and let + us finish the game. See, here’s another king.’ + </p> + <p> + But the Brother, holding up a card, went on growling: + </p> + <p> + ‘She must have come by some road that the devil alone knows for me to have + missed her to-day. Every afternoon I go and keep guard up yonder by the + Paradou. If ever I find them together again, I will acquaint the hussy + with a stout dogwood stick which I have cut expressly for her benefit. And + I shall keep a watch in the church as well now.’ + </p> + <p> + He played his card, which La Teuse took with a knave. Then he threw + himself back in his chair and again burst into one of his loud laughs. He + did not seem to be able to work himself up into a genuine rage that + evening. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ he grumbled, ‘never mind, even if she did see him, she had a + smacking fall on her nose. I’ll tell you all about it, La Teuse. It was + raining, you know. I was standing by the school-door when I caught sight + of her coming down from the church. She was walking along quite straight + and upright, in her stuck-up fashion, in spite of the pouring rain. But + when she got into the road, she tumbled down full length, no doubt because + the ground was so slippery. Oh! how I did laugh! How I did laugh! I + clapped my hands, too. When she picked herself up again, I saw she was + bleeding at the wrist. I shall feel happy over it for a week. I cannot + think of her lying there on the ground without feeling the greatest + delight.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, turning his attention to the game, he puffed out his cheeks and + began to chant the <i>De profundis</i>. When he had got to the end of it, + he began it all over again. The game came to a conclusion in the midst of + this dirge. It was he who was beaten, but his defeat did not seem to vex + him in the least. + </p> + <p> + When La Teuse had locked the door behind him, after first awakening Abbé + Mouret, his voice could still be heard, as he went his way through the + black night, singing the last verse of the psalm, <i>Et ipse redimet + Israel ex omnibus iniquitatibus ejus</i>, with extraordinary jubilation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + That night Abbé Mouret slept very heavily. When he opened his eyes in the + morning, later than usual, his face and hands were wet with tears. He had + been weeping all through the night while he slept. He did not say his mass + that day. In spite of his long rest, he had not recovered from his + excessive weariness of the previous evening, and he remained in his + bedroom till noon, sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. The + condition of stupor into which he more and more deeply sank, took all + sensation of suffering away from him. He was conscious only of a great + void and blank as he sat there overpowered and benumbed. Even to read his + breviary cost him a great effort. Its Latin seemed to him a barbarous + language, which he would never again be able to pronounce. + </p> + <p> + Having tossed the book upon his bed he gazed for hours through his open + window at the surrounding country. In the far distance he saw the long + wall of the Paradou, creeping like a thin white line amongst the gloomy + patches of the pine plantations to the crest of the hills. On the left, + hidden by one of those plantations, was the breach. He could not see it, + but he knew it was there. He remembered every bit of bramble scattered + among the stones. On the previous night he would not have thus dared to + gaze upon that dreaded scene. But now with impunity he allowed himself to + trace the whole line of the wall, as it emerged again and again from the + clumps of verdure which here and there concealed it. His blood pulsed none + the faster for this scrutiny. Temptation, as though disdaining his present + weakness, left him free from attack. Forsaken by the Divine grace, he was + incapable of entering upon any struggle, the thought of sin could no + longer even impassion him; it was sheer stupor alone that now rendered him + willing to accept that which he had the day before so strenuously refused. + </p> + <p> + At one moment he caught himself talking aloud and saying that, since the + breach in the wall was still open, he would go and join Albine at sunset. + This decision brought him a slight feeling of worry, but he did not think + that he could do otherwise. She was expecting him to go, and she was his + wife. When he tried to picture her face, he could only imagine her as very + pale and a long way off. Then he felt a little uneasy as to their future + manner of life together. It would be difficult for them to remain in the + neighbourhood; they would have to go away somewhere, without any one + knowing anything about it. And then, when they had managed to conceal + themselves, they would need a deal of money in order to live happily and + comfortably. He tried a score of times to hit upon some scheme by which + they could get away and live together like happy lovers, but he could + devise nothing satisfactory. Now that he was no longer wild with passion, + the practical side of the situation alarmed him. He found himself, in all + his weakness, face to face with a complicated problem with which he was + incompetent to grapple. + </p> + <p> + Where could they get horses for their escape? And if they went away on + foot, would they not be stopped and detained as vagabonds? Was he capable + of securing any employment by which he could earn bread for his wife? He + had never been taught any kind of trade. He was quite ignorant of actual + life. He ransacked his memory, and he could remember nothing but strings + of prayers, details of ceremonies, and pages of Bouvier’s ‘Instruction + Theologique,’ which he had learned by heart at the seminary. He worried + too over matters of no real concern. He asked himself whether he would + dare to give his arm to his wife in the street. He certainly could not + walk with a woman clinging to his arm. He would surely appear so strange + and awkward that every one would turn round to stare at him. They would + guess that he was a priest and would insult Albine. It would be vain for + him to try to obliterate the traces of his priesthood. He would always + wear that mournful pallor and carry the odour of incense about with him. + And what if he should have children some day? As this thought suddenly + occurred to him, he quite started. He felt a strange repugnance at the + very idea. He felt sure that he should not care for any children that + might be born to him. Suppose there were two of them, a little boy and a + little girl. He could never let them get on his knees; it would distress + him to feel their hands clutching at his clothes. The thought of the + little girl troubled him the most; he could already see womanly tenderness + shining in the depths of her big, childish eyes. No! no! he would have no + children. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he resolved that he would flee with Albine that evening. But + when the evening came, he felt too weary. So he deferred his flight till + the next morning. And the next morning he made a fresh pretext for delay. + He could not leave his sister alone with La Teuse. He would prepare a + letter, directing that she should be taken to her uncle Pascal’s. For + three days he was ever on the point of writing that letter, and the paper + and pen and ink were lying ready on the table in his room. Then, on the + third day, he went off, leaving the letter unwritten. He took up his hat + quite suddenly and set off for the Paradou in a state of mingled stupor + and resignation, as though he were unwillingly performing some compulsory + task which he saw no means of avoiding. Albine’s image was now effaced + from his memory; he no longer beheld her, but he was driven on by old + resolves whose lingering influence, though they themselves were dead, + still worked upon him in his silence and loneliness. + </p> + <p> + He took no pains to escape notice when he set foot out of doors. He + stopped at the end of the village to talk for a moment to Rosalie. She + told him that her baby was suffering from convulsions; but she laughed, as + she spoke, with the laugh that was natural to her. Then he struck out + through the rocks, and walked straight on towards the breach in the wall. + By force of habit he had brought his breviary with him. Finding the way + long, he opened the book and read the regulation prayers. When he put it + back again under his arm, he had forgotten the Paradou. He went on walking + steadily, thinking about a new chasuble that he wished to purchase to + replace the old gold-broidered one, which was certainly falling into + shreds. For some time past he had been saving up twenty-sous pieces, and + he calculated that by the end of seven months he would have got the + necessary amount of money together. He had reached the hills when the song + of a peasant in the distance reminded him of a canticle which had been + familiar to him at the seminary. He tried to recall the first lines of it, + but his recollection failed him. It vexed him to find that his memory was + so poor. And when, at last, he succeeded in remembering the words, he + found a soothing pleasure in humming the verses, which came back to his + mind one by one. It was a hymn of homage to Mary. He smiled as though some + soft breath from the days of his childhood were playing upon his face. Ah! + how happy he had then been! Why shouldn’t he be as happy again? He had not + grown any bigger, he wanted nothing more than the same old happiness, + unruffled peace, a nook in the chapel, where his knees marked his place, a + life of seclusion, enlivened by the delightful puerilities of childhood. + Little by little he raised his voice, singing the canticle in flutelike + tones, when he suddenly became aware of the breach immediately in front of + him. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he seemed surprised. Then, the smile dying from his face, he + murmured quietly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Albine must be expecting me. The sun is already setting.’ + </p> + <p> + But just as he was about to push some stones aside to make himself a + passage, he was startled by a snore. He sprang down again: he had only + just missed setting his foot upon the very face of Brother Archangias, who + was lying on the ground there sleeping soundly. Slumber had overtaken him + while he kept guard over the entrance to the Paradou. He barred the + approach to it, lying at full length before its threshold, with arms and + legs spread out. His right hand, thrown back behind his head, still + clutched his dogwood staff, which he seemed to brandish like a fiery + sword. And he snored loudly in the midst of the brambles, his face exposed + to the sun, without a quiver on his tanned skin. A swarm of big flies was + hovering over his open mouth. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret looked at him for a moment. He envied the slumber of that + dust-wallowing saint. He wished to drive the flies away, but they + persistently returned, and clung around the purple lips of the Brother, + who was quite unconscious of their presence. Then the Abbé strode over his + big body and entered the Paradou. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + Albine was seated on a patch of grass a few paces away from the wall. She + sprang up as she caught sight of Serge. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! you have come!’ she cried, trembling from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he answered calmly, ‘I have come.’ + </p> + <p> + She flung herself upon his neck, but she did not kiss him. To her bare + arms the beads of his neckband seemed very cold. She scrutinised him, + already feeling uneasy, and resuming: + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter with you? Why don’t you kiss my cheeks as you used to + do? Oh! if you are ill, I will cure you once again. Now that you are here, + all our old happiness will return. There will be no more wretchedness.... + See! I am smiling. You must smile, too, Serge.’ + </p> + <p> + But his face remained grave. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been troubled, too,’ she went on. ‘I am still quite pale, am I + not? For a whole week I have been living on that patch of grass, where you + found me. I wanted one thing only, to see you coming back through the + breach in the wall. At every sound I sprang up and rushed to meet you. + But, alas! it was not you I heard. It was only the leaves rustling in the + wind. But I was sure that you would come. I should have waited for you for + years.’ + </p> + <p> + Then she asked him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you still love me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I love you still.’ + </p> + <p> + They stood looking at each other, feeling rather ill at ease. And deep + silence fell between them. Serge, who evinced perfect calmness, did not + attempt to break it. Albine twice opened her mouth to speak, but closed it + immediately, surprised at the words that rose to her lips. She could + summon up nothing but expressions tinged with bitterness. She felt tears + welling into her eyes. What could be the matter with her that she did not + feel happy now that her love had come back? + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen to me,’ she said at last. ‘We must not stay here. It is that hole + that freezes us! Let us go back to our old home. Give me your hand.’ + </p> + <p> + They plunged into the depths of the Paradou. Autumn was fast approaching, + and the trees seemed anxious as they stood there with their yellowing + crests from which the leaves were falling one by one. The paths were + already littered with dead foliage soaked with moisture, which gave out a + sound as of sighing beneath one’s tread. And away beyond the lawns misty + vapour ascended, throwing a mourning veil over the blue distance. And the + whole garden was wrapped in silence, broken only by some sorrowful moans + that sounded quiveringly. + </p> + <p> + Serge began to shiver beneath the avenue of tall trees, along which they + were walking. + </p> + <p> + ‘How cold it is here!’ said he in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are cold indeed,’ murmured Albine, sadly. ‘My hand is no longer able + to warm you. Shall I wrap you round with part of my dress? Come, all our + love will now be born afresh.’ + </p> + <p> + She led him to the parterre, the flower-garden. The great thicket-like + rosary was still fragrant with perfume, but there was a tinge of + bitterness in the scent of the surviving blossoms, and their foliage, + which had expanded in wild profusion, lay strewn upon the ground. Serge + displayed such unwillingness to enter the tangled jungle, that they + lingered on its borders, trying to detect in the distance the paths along + which they had passed in the spring-time. Albine recollected every little + nook. She pointed to the grotto where the marble woman lay sleeping; to + the hanging screens of honeysuckle and clematis; the fields of violets; + the fountain that spurted out crimson carnations; the steps down which + flowed golden gilliflowers; the ruined colonnade, in the midst of which + the lilies were rearing a snowy pavilion. It was there that they had been + born again beneath the sunlight. And she recapitulated every detail of + that first day together, how they had walked, and how fragrant had been + the air beneath the cool shade. Serge seemed to be listening, but he + suddenly asked a question which showed that he had not understood her. The + slight shiver which made his face turn pale never left him. + </p> + <p> + Then she led him towards the orchard, but they could not reach it. The + stream was too much swollen. Serge no longer thought of taking Albine upon + his back and lightly bounding across with her to the other side. Yet there + the apple-trees and the pear-trees were still laden with fruit, and the + vines, now with scantier foliage, bent beneath the weight of their + gleaming clusters, each grape freckled by the sun’s caress. Ah! how they + had gambolled beneath the appetising shade of those ancient trees! What + merry children had they then been! Albine smiled as she thought of how she + had clambered up into the cherry-tree that had broken down beneath her. + He, Serge, must at least remember what a quantity of plums they had eaten. + He only answered by a nod. He already seemed quite weary. The orchard, + with its green depths and chaos of mossy trunks, disquieted him and + suggested to his mind some dark, dank spot, teeming with snakes and + nettles. + </p> + <p> + Then she led him to the meadow-lands, where he had to take a few steps + amongst the grass. It reached to his shoulders now, and seemed to him like + a swarm of clinging arms that tried to bind his limbs and pull him down + and drown him beneath an endless sea of greenery. He begged Albine to go + no further. She was walking on in front, and at first she did not stop; + but when she saw how distressed he appeared, she halted and came back and + stood beside him. She also was growing gradually more low-spirited, and at + last she shuddered like himself. Still she went on talking. With a + sweeping gesture she pointed out to him the streams, the rows of willows, + the grassy expanse stretching far away towards the horizon. All that had + formerly been theirs. For whole days they had lived there. Over yonder, + between those three willows by the water’s edge, they had played at being + lovers. And they would then have been delighted if the grass had been + taller than themselves so that they might have lost themselves in its + depths, and have been the more secluded, like larks nesting at the bottom + of a field of corn. Why, then, did he tremble so to-day, when the tip of + his foot just sank into the grass? + </p> + <p> + Then she led him to the forest. But the huge trees seemed to inspire Serge + with still greater dread. He did not know them again, so sternly solemn + seemed their bare black trunks. Here, more than anywhere else, amidst + those austere columns, through which the light now freely streamed, the + past seemed quite dead. The first rains had washed the traces of their + footsteps from the sandy paths, the winds had swept every other lingering + memorial into the underbrush. But Albine, with grief at her throat, shot + out a protesting glance. She could still plainly see their lightest + footprints on the sandy gravel, and, as they passed each bush, the warmth + with which they had once brushed against it surged to her cheeks. With + eyes full of soft entreaty, she still strove to awaken Serge’s memory. It + was along that path that they had walked in silence, full of emotion, but + as yet not daring to confess that they loved one another. It was in that + clearing that they had lingered one evening till very late watching the + stars, which had rained upon them like golden drops of warmth. Farther, + beneath that oak they had exchanged their first kiss. Its fragrance still + clung to the tree, and the very moss still remembered it. It was false to + say that the forest had become voiceless and bare. + </p> + <p> + Serge, however, turned away his head, that he might escape the gaze of + Albine’s eyes, which oppressed him. + </p> + <p> + Then she led him to the great rocks. There, perhaps, he would no longer + shudder with that appearance of debility which so distressed her. At that + hour the rocks were still warm with the red glow of the setting sun. They + still wore an aspect of tragic passion, with their hot ledges of stone + whereon the fleshy plants writhed monstrously. Without speaking a word, + without even turning her head, Albine led Serge up the rough ascent, + wishing to take him ever higher and higher, far up beyond the springs, + till they should emerge into the full light on the summit. They would + there see the cedar, beneath whose shade they had first felt the thrill of + desire, and there amidst the glowing stones they would assuredly find + passion once more. But Serge soon began to stumble pitiably. He could walk + no further. He fell a first time on his knees. Albine, by a mighty effort, + raised him and for a moment carried him along, but afterwards he fell + again, and remained, quite overcome, on the ground. In front of him, + beneath him, spread the vast Paradou. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have lied!’ cried Albine. ‘You love me no longer!’ + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears as she stood there by his side, feeling that she + could not carry him any higher. There was no sign of anger in her now. She + was simply weeping over their dying love. Serge lay dazed and stupefied. + </p> + <p> + ‘The garden is all dead. I feel so very cold,’ he murmured. But she took + his head between her hands, and showed him the Paradou. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at it! Ah! it is your eyes that are dead; your ears and your limbs + and your whole body. You have passed by all the scenes of our happiness + without seeing them or hearing them or feeling their presence. You have + done nothing but slip and stumble, and now you have fallen down here in + sheer weariness and boredom.... You love me no more.’ + </p> + <p> + He protested, but in a gentle, quiet fashion. Then, for the first time, + she spoke out passionately. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be quiet! As if the garden could ever die! It will sleep for the winter, + but it will wake up again in May, and will restore to us all the love we + have entrusted to its keeping. Our kisses will blossom again amongst the + flower-beds, and our vows will bud again with the trees and plants. If you + could only see it and understand it, you would know that it throbs with + even deeper passion, and loves even more absorbingly at this autumn-time, + when it falls asleep in its fruitfulness.... But you love me no more, and + so you can no longer understand.’ + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to her as if begging her not to be angry. His face was + pinched and pale with an expression of childish fear. The sound of her + voice made him tremble. He ended by persuading her to rest a little while + by his side. They could talk quietly and discuss matters. Then, with the + Paradou spreading out in front of them, they began to speak of their love, + but without even touching one another’s fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you; indeed I love you,’ said Serge, in his calm, quiet voice. ‘If + I did not love you, I should not be here: I should not have come. I am + very weary, it is true. I don’t know why. I thought I should find that + pleasant warmth again, of which the mere memory was so delightful. But I + am cold, the garden seems quite black. I cannot see anything of what I + left here. But it is not my fault. I am trying hard to be as you would + wish me and to please you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You love me no longer!’ Albine repeated once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I do love you. I suffered grievously the other day after I had + driven you away.... Oh! I loved you with such passion that, had you come + back and thrown yourself in my arms, I should almost have crushed you to + death.... And for hours your image remained present before me. When I shut + my eyes, you gleamed out with all the brightness of the sun and threw a + flame around me.... Then I trampled down every obstacle, and came here.’ + </p> + <p> + He remained silent for a moment, as if in thought. Then he spoke again: + </p> + <p> + ‘And now my arms feel as though they were broken. If I tried to clasp you, + I could not hold you; I should let you fall.... Wait till this shudder has + passed away. Give me your hands, and let me kiss them again. Be gentle and + do not look at me with such angry eyes. Help me to find my heart again.’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke with such genuine sadness, such evident longing to begin the past + anew, that Albine was touched. For a moment all her wonted gentleness + returned to her, and she questioned him anxiously: + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter with you? What makes you so ill?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know. It is as though all my blood had left my veins. Just now, + as I was coming here, I felt as if some one had flung a robe of ice around + my shoulders, which turned me into stone from head to foot.... I have felt + it before, but where I don’t remember.’ + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him with a kindly laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a child. You have caught cold, that’s all. At any rate, it is not + I that you are afraid of, is it? We won’t stop in the garden during the + winter, like a couple of wild things. We will go wherever you like, to + some big town. We can love each other there, amongst all the people, as + quietly as amongst the trees. You will see that I can be something else + than a wilding, for ever bird’s-nesting and tramping about for hours. When + I was a little girl, I used to wear embroidered skirts and fine stockings + and laces and all kinds of finery. I dare say you never heard of that.’ + </p> + <p> + He was not listening to her. He suddenly gave vent to a little cry, and + said: ‘Ah! now I recollect!’ + </p> + <p> + She asked him what he meant, but he would not answer her. He had just + remembered the feeling he had long ago experienced in the chapel of the + seminary. That was the icy robe enwrapping his shoulders and turning him + to stone. And then his life as a priest took complete possession of his + thoughts. The vague recollections which had haunted him as he walked from + Les Artaud to the Paradou became more and more distinct and assumed + complete mastery over him. While Albine talked on of the happy life that + they would lead together, he heard the tinkling of the sanctuary bell that + signalled the elevation of the Host, and he saw the monstrance trace + gleaming crosses over the heads of kneeling multitudes. + </p> + <p> + ‘And for your sake,’ Albine was saying, ‘I will put on my broidered skirts + again.... I want you to be bright and gay. We will try to find something + to make you lively. Perhaps you will love me better when you see me + looking beautiful and prettily dressed, like a fine lady. I will wear my + comb properly and won’t let my hair fall wildly about my neck any more. + And I won’t roll my sleeves up over my elbows; I will fasten my dress so + as to hide my shoulders. I still know how to bow and how to walk along + quite properly. Yes, I will make you a nice little wife, as I walk through + the streets leaning on your arm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever go to church when you were a little girl?’ he asked her in + an undertone, as if, in spite of himself, he were continuing aloud the + reverie which prevented him from hearing her. ‘I could never pass a church + without entering it. As soon as the door closed silently behind me, I felt + as though I were in Paradise itself, with the angels whispering stories of + love in my ears and the saints caressing me with their breath. Ah! I would + have liked to live there for ever, in that absorbing beatitude.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with steady eyes, a passing blaze kindling in her loving + glance. Nevertheless, submissive still, she answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘I will do as you may fancy. I learned music once. I was quite a clever + young lady and was taught all the accomplishments. I will go back to + school and start music again. If there is any tune you would like to hear + me play, you will only have to tell me, and I will practise it for months + and months, so as to play it to you some evening in our own home when we + are by ourselves in some snug little room, with the curtains closely + drawn. And you will pay me with just one kiss, won’t you? A kiss right on + the lips, which will awaken all your love again!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes,’ he murmured, answering his own thoughts only; ‘my great + pleasure at first was to light the candles, prepare the cruets, and carry + the missal. Then, afterwards, I was filled with bliss at the approach of + God, and felt as though I could die of sheer love. Those are my only + recollections. I know of nothing else. When I raise my hand, it is to give + a benediction. When my lips protrude it is to kiss the altar. If I look + for my heart, I can no longer find it. I have offered it to God, and He + has taken it.’ + </p> + <p> + Albine grew very pale and her eyes gleamed like fire. In a quivering voice + she resumed: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should not like my little girl to leave me. You can send the boy to + college, if you wish, but the little girl must always keep with me. I + myself will teach her to read. Oh! I shall remember everything, and if + indeed there be anything that I find I have forgotten, I will have masters + to teach me.... Yes, we will keep our dear little ones always about our + knees. You will be happy so, won’t you? Speak to me; tell me that you will + then feel warm again, and will smile, and feel no regrets for anything you + have left behind.’ + </p> + <p> + But Serge continued: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have often thought of the stone-saints that have been censed in their + niches for centuries past. They must have become quite saturated with + incense; and I am like one of them. I have the fragrance of incense in the + inmost parts of my being. It is that embalmment that gives me serenity, + deathlike tranquillity of body, and the peace which I enjoy in no longer + living.... Ah! may nothing ever disturb my quiescence! May I ever remain + cold and rigid, with a ceaseless smile on my granite lips, incapable of + descending among men! That is my one, my only desire!’ + </p> + <p> + At this Albine sprang to her feet, exasperated, threatening. She shook + Serge and cried: + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you saying? What is it you are dreaming aloud? Am I not your + wife? Haven’t you come here to be my husband?’ + </p> + <p> + He recoiled, trembling yet more violently. + </p> + <p> + ‘No! Leave me! I am afraid!’ he faltered. + </p> + <p> + ‘But our life together, our happiness, the children we shall have?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no; I am afraid.’ And he broke out into a supreme cry: ‘I cannot! I + cannot!’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment Albine remained silent, gazing at the unhappy man who lay + shivering at her feet. Her face flared. She opened her arms as if to seize + him and strain him to her breast with wild angry passion. But another idea + came to her, and she merely took him by the hand and raised him to his + feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come!’ said she. + </p> + <p> + She led him away to that giant tree, to the very spot where their love had + reigned supreme. There was the same bliss-inspiring shade, there was the + same trunk as of yore, the same branches spreading far around, like + sheltering and protecting arms. The tree still towered aloft, kindly, + robust, powerful, and fertile. As on the day of their nuptials, languorous + warmth, the glimmer of a summer’s night fading on the bare shoulder of + some fair girl, a sob of love dying away into passionate silence, lingered + about the clearing as it lay there bathed in dim green light. And, in the + distance, the Paradou, in spite of the first chills of autumn, sighed once + more with passion, again becoming love’s accomplice. From the parterre, + from the orchard, from the meadow-lands, from the forest, from the great + rocks, from the spreading heavens, came back a ripple of voluptuous joy. + Never had the garden, even on the warmest evenings of spring-time, shown + such deep tenderness as now, on this fair autumn evening, when the plants + and trees seemed to be bidding one another goodnight ere they sank to + sleep. And the scent of ripened germs wafted the intoxication of desire + athwart the scanty leaves. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you hear? Do you hear?’ faltered Albine in Serge’s ear, when she had + let him slip upon the grass at the foot of the tree. + </p> + <p> + Serge was weeping. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see that the Paradou is not dead,’ she added. ‘It is crying out to us + to love each other. It still desires our union. Oh, do remember! Clasp me + to your heart!’ + </p> + <p> + Serge still wept. + </p> + <p> + Albine said nothing more. She flung her arms around him; she pressed her + warm lips to his corpse-like face; but tears were still his only answer. + </p> + <p> + Then, after a long silence, Albine spoke. She stood erect, full of + contempt and determination. + </p> + <p> + ‘Away with you! Go!’ she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + Serge rose with difficulty. He picked up his breviary, which had fallen + upon the grass. And he walked away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Away with you! Go!’ repeated Albine, in louder tones, as she followed and + drove him before her. + </p> + <p> + Thus she urged him on from bush to bush till she had driven him back to + the breach in the wall, in the midst of the stern-looking trees. And + there, as she saw Serge hesitate, with lowered head she cried out + violently: + </p> + <p> + ‘Away with you Go!’ + </p> + <p> + And slowly she herself went back into the Paradou, without even turning + her head. Night was fast falling, and the garden was but a huge bier of + shadows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + Brother Archangias, aroused from his slumber, stood erect in the breach, + striking the stones with his stick and swearing abominably. + </p> + <p> + ‘May the devil break their legs for them! May he drag them to hell by + their feet, with their noses trailing in their abomination!’ + </p> + <p> + But when he saw Albine driving away the priest, he stopped for a moment in + surprise. Then he struck the stones yet more vigorously, and burst into a + roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, you hussy! A pleasant journey to you! Go back to your mates the + wolves! A priest is no fit companion for such as you.’ + </p> + <p> + Then, looking at Abbé Mouret, he growled: + </p> + <p> + ‘I knew you were in there. I saw that the stones had been disturbed.... + Listen to me, Monsieur le Curé. Your sin has made me your superior, and + God tells you, through my mouth, that hell has no torments severe enough + for a priest who lets himself succumb to the lusts of the flesh. If He + were to pardon you now, He would be too indulgent, it would be contrary to + His own justice.’ + </p> + <p> + They slowly walked down the hill towards Les Artaud. The priest had not + opened his lips; but gradually he raised his head erect: he was no longer + trembling. As in the distance he caught sight of the Solitaire looming + blackly against the purplish sky, and the ruddy glow of the tiles on the + church, a faint smile came to his lips, while to his calm eyes there rose + an expression of perfect serenity. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the Brother was every now and then giving a vicious kick at the + stones that came in his way. Presently he turned to his companion: + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it all over this time?’ he asked. ‘When I was your age I was possessed + too. A demon was ever gnawing at me. But, after a time, he grew weary of + it, and took himself off. Now that he has gone I live quietly enough.... + Oh! I knew very well that you would go. For three weeks past I have been + keeping watch upon you. I used to look into the garden through the breach + in the wall. I should have liked to cut the trees down. I have often + hurled stones at them; it was delightful to break the branches. Tell me, + now, is it so very nice to be there?’ + </p> + <p> + He made Abbé Mouret stop in the middle of the road, and glared at him with + a terrible expression of jealousy. The thought of the priest’s life in the + Paradou tortured him. But the Abbé kept perfect silence, so Archangias set + off again, jeering as he went. Then, in a louder voice, he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, when a priest behaves as you have done, he scandalises every + other priest. I myself felt sullied by your conduct. However, you are now + behaving more sensibly. There is no need for you to make any confession. I + know what has happened well enough. Heaven has broken your back for you, + as it has done for so many others. So much the better! So much the + better!’ + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands triumphantly. But Abbé Mouret, immersed in deep + reverie, with a smile spreading over his whole face, did not even hear + him. When the Brother quitted him at the parsonage door, he went round and + entered the church. It was grey and gloomy, as on that terrible rainy + evening when temptation had racked him so violently. And it still remained + poverty-stricken and meditative, bare of all that gleaming gold and + sighing passion that had seemed to him to sweep in from the countryside. + It preserved solemn silence. But a breath of mercy seemed to fill it. + </p> + <p> + Kneeling before the great Christ and bursting into tears, which he let + flow down his cheeks as though they were so many blessings, the priest + murmured: + </p> + <p> + ‘O God, it is not true that Thou art pitiless. I know it, I feel it: Thou + hast already pardoned me. I feel it in the outpouring of Thy grace, which, + for hours now, has been flowing through me in a sweet stream, bringing me + back, slowly but surely, perfect peace and spiritual health. O God, it was + at the very moment when I was about to forsake Thee that Thou didst + protect me most effectually. Thou didst hide Thyself from me, the better + to rescue me from evil. Thou didst allow my flesh to run its course, that + I might be convinced of its nothingness. And now, O God, I see that Thou + hast for ever marked me with Thy seal, that awful seal, pregnant with + blessings, which sets a man apart from other men, and whose mark is so + ineffaceable that, sooner or later, it makes itself manifest even upon + those who sin. Thou hast broken me with sin and temptation. Thou hast + ravaged me with Thy flames. Thou hast willed that there should be nought + left of me save ruins wherein Thou mightest safely descend. I am an empty + tabernacle wherein Thou may’st dwell. Blessed art Thou, O God!’ + </p> + <p> + He prostrated himself and continued stammering in the dust. The church + triumphed. It remained firm and unshaken over the priest’s head, with its + altars and its confessional, its pulpit, its crosses, and its holy images. + The world had ceased to exist. Temptation was extinguished like a fire + that was henceforth unnecessary for the Abbé’s purification. He was + entering into supernatural peace. And he raised this supreme cry: + </p> + <p> + ‘To the exclusion of life and its creatures and of everything that be in + it, I belong to Thee, O God; to Thee, Thee alone, through all eternity!’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + At that moment Albine was still wandering about the Paradou with all the + mute agony of a wounded animal. She had ceased to weep. Her face was very + white and a deep crease showed upon her brow. Why did she have to suffer + that deathlike agony? Of what fault had she been guilty, that the garden + no longer kept the promises it had held out to her since her childhood’s + days? She questioned herself as she walked along, never heeding the + avenues through which the gloom was slowly stealing. She had always obeyed + the voices of the trees. She could not remember having injured a single + flower. She had ever been the beloved daughter of the greenery, hearkening + to it submissively, yielding to it with full belief in the happiness which + it promised to her. And when, on that supreme day, the Paradou had cried + to her to cast herself beneath the giant-tree, she had done so in + compliance with its voice. If she then had nothing to reproach herself + with, it must be the garden which had betrayed her; the garden which was + torturing her for the mere sake of seeing her suffer. + </p> + <p> + She halted and looked around her. The great gloomy masses of foliage + preserved deep silence. The paths were blocked with black walls of + darkness. The distant lawns were lulling to sleep the breezes that kissed + them. And she thrust out her hands with a gesture of hopelessness and + raised a cry of protest. It could not all end thus. But her voice choked + beneath the silent trees. Thrice did she implore the Paradou to answer + her, but never an explanation fell from its lofty branches, not a leaf + seemed to be moved with pity for her. Then she resumed her weary + wandering, and felt that she was entering into the fatal sternness of + winter. Now that she had ceased to rebelliously question the earth, she + caught sound of a gentle murmur speeding along the ground. It was the + farewell of the plants, wishing one another a happy death. To have drunk + in the sunshine for a whole season, to have lived ever blossoming, to have + breathed continual perfume, and then, at the first blast, to depart, with + the hope of springing up again elsewhere, was not that sufficiently long + and full a life which obstinate craving for further existence would mar? + Ah! how sweet death must be; how sweet to have an endless night before + one, wherein to dream of the short days of life and to recall eternally + its fugitive joys! + </p> + <p> + She stayed her steps once more; but she no longer protested as she stood + there amidst the deep stillness of the Paradou. She now believed that she + understood everything. The garden doubtless had death in store for her as + a supreme culminating happiness. It was to death that it had all along + been leading her in its tender fashion. After love, there could be nought + but death. And never had the garden loved her so much as it did now; she + had shown herself ungrateful in accusing it, for all the time she had + remained its best beloved child. The motionless boughs, the paths blocked + up with darkness, the lawns where the breezes fell asleep, had only become + mute in order that they might lure her on to taste the joys of long + silence. They wished her to be with them in their winter rest, they dreamt + of carrying her off, swathed in their dry leaves with her eyes frozen like + the waters of the springs, her limbs stiffened like the bare branches, and + her blood sleeping the sleep of the sap. And, yes, she would live their + life to the very end, and die their death. Perhaps they had already willed + that she should spring up next summer as a rose in the flower-garden, or a + pale willow in the meadow-lands, or a tender birch in the forest. Yes, it + was the great law of life; she was about to die. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the last time, she resumed her walk through the Paradou in quest + of death. What fragrant plant might need her sweet-scented tresses to + increase the perfume of its leaves? What flower might wish the gift of her + satinlike skin, the snowy whiteness of her arms, the tender pink of her + bosom? To what weakly tree should she offer her young blood? She would + have liked to be of service to the weeds vegetating beside the paths, to + slay herself there so that from her flesh some huge greenery might spring, + lofty and sapful, laden with birds at May-time, and passionately caressed + by the sun. But for a long while the Paradou still maintained silence as + if it had not yet made up its mind to confide to her in what last kiss it + would spirit away her life. She had to wander all over it again, seeking, + pilgrim-like, for her favourite spots. Night was now more swiftly + approaching, and it seemed to her as if she were being gradually sucked + into the earth. She climbed to the great rocks and questioned them, asking + whether it was upon their stony beds that she must breathe her last + breath. She crossed the forest with lingering steps, hoping that some oak + would topple down and bury her beneath the majesty of its fall. She + skirted the streams that flowed through the meadows, bending down at + almost every step she took so as to peep into the depths and see whether a + couch had not been prepared for her amongst the water lilies. But nowhere + did Death call her; nowhere did he offer her his cold hands. Yet, she was + not mistaken. It was, indeed, the Paradou that was about to teach her to + die, as, indeed, it had taught her to love. She again began to scour the + bushes, more eagerly even than on those warm mornings of the past when she + had gone searching for love. And, suddenly, just as she was reaching the + parterre, she came upon death, amidst all the evening fragrance. She ran + forward, breaking out into a rapturous laugh. She was to die amongst the + flowers. + </p> + <p> + First she hastened to the thicket-like rosary. There, in the last + flickering of the gloaming, she searched the beds and gathered all the + roses that hung languishing at the approach of winter. She plucked them + from down below, quite heedless of their thorns; she plucked them in front + of her, with both hands; she plucked them from above, rising upon tip-toes + and pulling down the boughs. So eager was she, so desperate was her haste, + that she even broke the branches, she, who had ever shown herself tender + to the tiniest blades of grass. Soon her arms were full of roses, she + tottered beneath her burden of flowers. And having quite stripped the rose + trees, carrying away even the fallen petals, she turned her steps to the + pavilion; and when she had let her load of blossoms slip upon the floor of + the room with the blue ceiling, she again went down to the garden. + </p> + <p> + This time she sought the violets. She made huge bunches of them, which she + pressed one by one against her breast. Then she sought the carnations, + plucking them all, even to the buds; massing them together in big sheaves + of white blossoms that suggested bowls of milk, and big sheaves of the red + ones, that seemed like bowls of blood. Then, too, she sought the stocks, + the patches of mirabilis, the heliotropes and the lilies. She tore the + last blossoming stocks off by the handful, pitilessly crumpling their + satin ruches; she devastated the beds of mirabilis, whose flowers were + scarcely opening to the evening air; she mowed down the field of + heliotropes, piling her harvest of blooms into a heap; and she thrust + bundles of lilies under her arms like handles of reeds. When she was again + laden with as much as she could carry, she returned to the pavilion to + cast the violets, the carnations, the lilies, the stocks, the heliotrope, + and the mirabilis by the side of the roses. And then, without stopping to + draw breath, she went down yet again. + </p> + <p> + This time she repaired to that gloomy corner which seemed like the + graveyard of the flower-garden. A warm autumn had there brought on a + second crop of spring flowers. She raided the borders of tuberoses and + hyacinths; going down upon her knees, and gathering her harvest with all a + miser’s care, lest she should miss a single blossom. The tuberoses seemed + to her to be extremely precious flowers, which would distil drops of gold + and wealth and wondrous sweetness. The hyacinths, beaded with pearly + blooms, were like necklets, whose every pearl would pour forth joys + unknown to man. And although she almost buried herself beneath the mass of + tuberoses and hyacinths which she plucked, she next stripped a field of + poppies, and even found means to crop an expanse of marigolds farther on. + All these she heaped over the tuberoses and hyacinths, and then ran back + to the room with the blue ceiling, taking the greatest care as she went + that the breeze should not rob her of a single pistil. And once more did + she come downstairs. + </p> + <p> + But what was she to gather now? She had stripped the parterre bare. As she + rose upon the tips of her shoes in the dim gloom, she could only see the + garden lying there naked and dead, deprived of the tender eyes of its + roses, the crimson smile of its carnations, and the perfumed locks of its + heliotropes. Nevertheless, she could not return with empty arms. So she + laid hands upon the herbs and leafy plants. She crawled over the ground, + as though she would have carried off the very soil itself in a clutch of + supreme passion. She filled her skirt with a harvest of aromatic plants, + southernwood, mint, verbenas. She came across a border of balm, and left + not a leaf of it unplucked. She even broke off two big fennels which she + threw over her shoulders like a couple of trees. Had she been able, she + would have carried all the greenery of the garden away with her between + her teeth. When she reached the threshold of the pavilion, she turned + round and gave a last look at the Paradou. It was quite dark now. The + night had fully come and cast a black veil over everything. Then for the + last time she went up the stairs, never more to step down them. + </p> + <p> + The spacious room was quickly decked. She had placed a lighted lamp upon + the table. She sorted out the flowers heaped upon the floor and arranged + them in big bunches, which she distributed about the room. First she + placed some lilies behind the lamp on the table, forming with them a lofty + lacelike screen which softened the light with its snowy purity. Then she + threw handfuls of carnations and stocks over the old sofa, which was + already strewn with red bouquets that had faded a century ago, till all + these were hidden, and the sofa looked like a huge bed of stocks bristling + with carnations. Next she placed the four armchairs in front of the + alcove. On the first one she piled marigolds, on the second poppies, on + the third mirabilis, and on the fourth heliotrope. The chairs were + completely buried in bloom, with nothing but the tips of their arms + visible. At last she thought of the bed. She pushed a little table near + the head of it, and reared thereon a huge pile of violets. Then she + covered the whole bed with the hyacinths and tuberoses she had plucked. + They were so abundant that they formed a thick couch overflowing all + around, so that the bed now looked like one colossal bloom. + </p> + <p> + The roses still remained. And these she scattered chancewise all over the + room, without even looking to see where they fell. Some of them dropped + upon the table, the sofa, and the chairs; and a corner of the bed was + inundated with them. For some minutes there was a rain of roses, a real + downpour of heavy blossoms, which settled in flowery pools in the hollows + of the floor. But as the heap seemed scarcely diminished, she finished by + weaving garlands of roses which she hung upon the walls. She twined + wreaths around the necks and arms and waists of the plaster cupids that + sported over the alcove. The blue ceiling, the oval panels, edged with + flesh-coloured ribbon, the voluptuous paintings, preyed upon by time, were + all hung with a mantle, a drapery of roses. The big room was fully decked + at last. Now she could die there. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she remained standing, glancing around her. She was looking + to see if death was there. And she gathered up the aromatic greenery, the + southernwood, the mint, the verbenas, the balm, and the fennel. She broke + them and twisted them and made wedges of them with which to stop up every + little chink and cranny about the windows and the door. Then she drew the + white coarsely sewn calico curtains and, without even a sigh, laid herself + upon the bed, on all the florescence of hyacinths and tuberoses. + </p> + <p> + And then a final rapture was granted her. With her eyes wide open she + smiled at the room. Ah! how she had loved there! And how happily she was + there going to die! At that supreme moment the plaster cupids suggested + nothing impure to her; the amorous paintings disturbed her no more. She + was conscious of nothing beneath that blue ceiling save the intoxicating + perfume of the flowers. And it seemed to her as if this perfume was none + other than the old love-fragrance which had always warmed the room, now + increased a hundredfold, till it had become so strong and penetrating that + it would surely suffocate her. Perchance it was the breath of the lady who + had died there a century ago. In perfect stillness, with her hands clasped + over her heart, she continued smiling, while she listened to the whispers + of the perfumes in her buzzing head. They were singing to her a soft + strange melody of fragrance, which slowly and very gently lulled her to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + At first there was a prelude, bright and childlike; her hands, that had + just now twisted and twined the aromatic greenery, exhaled the pungency of + crushed herbage, and recalled her old girlish ramblings through the + wildness of the Paradou. Then there came a flutelike song, a song of short + musky notes, rising from the violets that lay upon the table near the head + of the bed; and this flutelike strain, trilling melodiously to the soft + accompaniment of the lilies on the other table, sang to her of the first + joys of love, its first confession, and first kiss beneath the trees of + the forest. But she began to stifle as passion drew nigh with the + clove-like breath of the carnations, which burst upon her in brazen notes + that seemed to drown all others. She thought that death was nigh when the + poppies and the marigolds broke into a wailing strain, which recalled the + torment of desire. But suddenly all grew quieter; she felt that she could + breathe more freely; she glided into greater serenity, lulled by a + descending scale that came from the throats of the stocks, and died away + amidst a delightful hymn from the heliotropes, which, with their + vanilla-like breath, proclaimed the approach of nuptial bliss. Here and + there the mirabilis gently trilled. Then came a hush. And afterwards the + roses languidly made their entry. Their voices streamed from the ceiling, + like the strains of a distant choir. It was a chorus of great breadth, to + which she at first listened with a slight quiver. Then the volume of the + strain increased, and soon her whole frame vibrated with the mighty sounds + that burst in waves around her. The nuptials were at hand, the trumpet + blasts of the roses announced them. She pressed her hands more closely to + her heart as she lay there panting, gasping, dying. When she opened her + lips for the kiss which was to stifle her, the hyacinths and tuberoses + shot out their perfume and enveloped her with so deep, so great a sigh + that the chorus of the roses could be heard no more. + </p> + <p> + And then, amidst the final gasp of the flowers, Albine died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + About three o’clock the next afternoon, La Teuse and Brother Archangias, + who were chatting on the parsonage-steps, saw Doctor Pascal’s gig come at + full gallop through the village. The whip was being vigorously brandished + from beneath the lowered hood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where can he be off to at that rate?’ murmured the old servant. ‘He will + break his neck.’ + </p> + <p> + The gig had just reached the rising ground on which the church was built. + Suddenly, the horse reared and stopped, and the doctor’s head, with its + long white hair all dishevelled appeared from under the hood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is Serge there?’ he cried, in a voice full of indignant excitement. + </p> + <p> + La Teuse had stepped to the edge of the hill. ‘Monsieur le Curé is in his + room,’ she said. ‘He must be reading his breviary. Do you want to speak to + him? Shall I call him?’ + </p> + <p> + Uncle Pascal, who seemed almost distracted, made an angry gesture with his + whip hand. Bending still further forward, at the risk of falling out, he + replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! he’s reading his breviary, is he? No! no! don’t call him. I should + strangle him, and that would do no good. I wanted to tell him that Albine + was dead. Dead! do you hear me? Tell him, from me, that she is dead!’ + </p> + <p> + And he drove off, lashing his horse so fiercely that it almost bolted. + But, twenty paces away, he pulled up again, and once more stretching out + his head, cried loudly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell him, too, from me, that she was <i>enceinte</i>! It will please him + to know that.’ + </p> + <p> + Then the gig rolled on wildly again, jolting dangerously as it ascended + the stony hill that led to the Paradou. La Teuse was quite dumbfounded. + But Brother Archangias sniggered and looked at her with savage delight + glittering in his eyes. She noticed this at last, and thrust him away from + her, almost making him fall down the steps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be off with you!’ she stammered, full of anger, seeking to relieve her + feelings by abusing him. ‘I shall grow to hate you. Is it possible to + rejoice at any one’s death? I wasn’t fond of the girl, myself; but it is + very sad to die at her age. Be off with you, and don’t go on sniggering + like that, or I will throw my scissors in your face!’ + </p> + <p> + It was only about one o’clock that a peasant, who had gone to Plassans to + sell vegetables, had told Doctor Pascal of Albine’s death, and had added + that Jeanbernat wished to see him. The doctor now was feeling a little + relieved by what he had just shouted as he passed the parsonage. He had + gone out of his way expressly to give himself that satisfaction. He + reproached himself for the death of the girl as for a crime in which he + had participated. All along the road he had never ceased overwhelming + himself with insults, and though he wiped the tears from his eyes that he + might see where to guide his horse, he ever angrily drove his gig over + heaps of stones, as if hoping that he would overturn himself and break one + of his limbs. However, when he reached the long lane that skirted the + endless wall of the park, a glimmer of hope broke upon him. Perhaps Albine + was only in a dead faint. The peasant had told him that she had suffocated + herself with flowers. Ah! if he could only get there in time, if he could + only save her! And he lashed his horse ferociously as though he were + lashing himself. + </p> + <p> + It was a lovely day. The pavilion was all bathed in sunlight, just as it + had been in the fair spring-time. But the leaves of the ivy which mounted + to the roof were spotted and patched with rust, and bees no longer buzzed + round the tall gilliflowers. Doctor Pascal hastily tethered his horse and + pushed open the gate of the little garden. All around still prevailed that + perfect silence amidst which Jeanbernat had been wont to smoke his pipe; + but, to-day, the old man was no longer seated on his bench watching his + lettuces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jeanbernat!’ called the doctor. + </p> + <p> + No one answered. Then, on entering the vestibule, he saw something that he + had never seen before. At the end of the passage, below the dark + staircase, was a door opening into the Paradou, and he could see the vast + garden spreading there beneath the pale sunlight, with all its autumn + melancholy, its sere and yellow foliage. The doctor hurried through the + doorway and took a few steps over the damp grass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! it is you, doctor!’ said Jeanbernat in a calm voice. + </p> + <p> + The old man was digging a hole at the foot of a mulberry-tree. He had + straightened his tall figure on hearing the approach of footsteps. But he + promptly betook himself to his task again, throwing out at each effort a + huge mass of rich soil. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing there?’ asked Doctor Pascal. + </p> + <p> + Jeanbernat straightened himself again and wiped the sweat off his face + with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘I am digging a hole,’ he answered simply. + ‘She always loved the garden, and it will please her to sleep here.’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor nearly choked with emotion. For a moment he stood by the edge + of the grave, incapable of speaking, but watching Jeanbernat as the other + sturdily dug on. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is she?’ he asked at last. + </p> + <p> + ‘Up there, in her room. I left her on the bed. I should like you to go and + listen to her heart before she is put away in here. I listened myself, but + I couldn’t hear anything at all.’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor went upstairs. The room had not been disturbed. Only a window + had been opened. There the withered flowers, stifled by their own + perfumes, exhaled but the faint odour of dead beauty. Within the alcove, + however, there still hung an asphyxiating warmth, which seemed to trickle + into the room and gradually disperse in tiny puffs. Albine, snowy-pale, + with her hands upon her heart and a smile playing over her face, lay + sleeping on her couch of hyacinths and tuberoses. And she was quite happy, + since she was quite dead. Standing by the bedside, the doctor gazed at her + for a long time, with a keen expression such as comes into the eyes of + scientists who attempt to work resurrections. But he did not even disturb + her clasped hands. He kissed her brow, on the spot where her latent + maternity had already set a slight shadow. Below, in the garden, + Jeanbernat was still driving his spade into the ground in heavy, regular + fashion. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later, however, the old man came upstairs. He had + completed his work. He found the doctor seated by the bedside, buried in + such a deep reverie that he did not seem conscious of the heavy tears that + were trickling down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + The two men only glanced at each other. Then, after an interval of + silence, Jeanbernat slowly said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, was I not right? There is nothing, nothing, nothing. It is all mere + nonsense.’ + </p> + <p> + He remained standing and began to pick up the roses that had fallen from + the bed, throwing them, one by one, upon Albine’s skirts. + </p> + <p> + ‘The flowers,’ he said, ‘live only for a day, while the rough nettles, + like me, wear out the very stones amidst which they spring.... Now it’s + all over; I can kick the bucket; I am nearly distracted. My last ray of + sunlight has been snuffed out. It’s all nonsense, as I said before.’ + </p> + <p> + He threw himself upon one of the chairs in his turn. He did not shed a + tear; he bore himself with rigid despair, like some automaton whose + mechanism is broken. Mechanically he reached out his hand and took a book + that lay on the little table strewn with violets. It was one of the books + stored away in the loft, an odd volume of Holbach,* which he had been + reading since the morning, while watching by Albine’s body. As the doctor + still remained silent, buried in distressful thought, he began to turn its + pages over. But a sadden idea occurred to him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Doubtless Holbach’s now forgotten <i>Catechism of Nature</i>, into + which M. Zola himself may well have peeped whilst writing this + story.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + ‘If you will help me,’ he said to the doctor, ‘we will carry her + downstairs, and bury her with all her flowers.’ + </p> + <p> + Uncle Pascal shuddered. Then he explained to the old man that it was not + allowed for one to keep the dead in that fashion. + </p> + <p> + ‘What! it isn’t allowed!’ cried Jeanbernat. ‘Well, then, I will allow it + myself! Doesn’t she belong to me? Isn’t she mine? Do you think I am going + to let the priests walk off with her? Let them try, if they want to get a + shot from my gun!’ + </p> + <p> + He sprang to his feet and waved his book about with a terrible gesture. + But the doctor caught hold of his hands and clasped them within his own, + beseeching him to be calm. And for a long time he talked to him, saying + all that he had upon his mind. He blamed himself, made fragmentary + confessions of his fault, and vaguely hinted at those who had killed + Albine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen,’ he said in conclusion, ‘she is yours no longer; you must give + her up.’ + </p> + <p> + But Jeanbernat shook his head, and again waved his hand in token of + refusal. However, his obstinate resolution was shaken; and at last he + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, let them take her, and may she break their arms for them! I + only wish that she could rise up out of the ground and kill them all with + fright.... By the way. I have a little business to settle over there. I + will go to-morrow.... Good-bye, then, doctor. The hole will do for me.’ + </p> + <p> + And, when the doctor had left, he again sat down by the dead girl’s side, + and gravely resumed the perusal of his book. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <p> + That morning there was great commotion in the yard at the parsonage. The + Artaud butcher had just slaughtered Matthew, the pig, in the shed. + Desirée, quite enthusiastic about it all, had held Matthew’s feet, while + he was being bled, kissing him on the back that he might feel the pain of + the knife less, and telling him that it was absolutely necessary that he + should be killed, now that he had got so fat. No one could cut off a + goose’s neck with a single stroke of the hatchet more unconcernedly than + she could, or gash open a fowl’s throat with a pair of scissors. However + much she loved her charges, she looked upon their slaughter with great + equanimity. It was quite necessary, she would say. It made room for the + young ones who were growing up. And that morning she was very gay. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mademoiselle,’ grumbled La Teuse every minute, ‘you will end by making + yourself ill. There is no sense in working yourself up into such a state, + just because a pig has been slaughtered. You are as red as if you had been + dancing a whole night.’ + </p> + <p> + But Desirée only clapped her hands and turned away and bustled about + again. La Teuse, for her part, complained that her legs were sinking under + her. Since six o’clock in the morning her big carcass had been perpetually + rolling between the kitchen and the yard, for she had black puddings to + make. It was she who had whisked the blood in two large earthenware pans, + and she had thought that she would never get finished, since mademoiselle + was for ever calling her away for mere nothings. + </p> + <p> + It must be admitted that, at the very moment when the butcher was bleeding + Matthew, Desirée had been thrilled with wild excitement, for Lisa, the + cow, was about to calve. And the girl’s delight at this had quite turned + her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘One goes and another comes!’ she cried, skipping and twirling round. + ‘Come here, La Teuse! come here!’ + </p> + <p> + It was eleven o’clock. Every now and then the sound of chanting was wafted + from the church. A confused murmur of doleful voices, a muttering of + prayers could be heard amidst scraps of Latin pronounced in louder and + clearer tones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come! oh, do come!’ repeated Desirée for the twentieth time. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must go and toll the bell, now,’ muttered the old servant. ‘I shall + never get finished really. What is it that you want now, mademoiselle?’ + </p> + <p> + But she did not wait for an answer. She threw herself upon a swarm of + fowls, who were greedily drinking the blood from the pans. And having + angrily kicked them away, and then covered up the pans, she called to + Desirée: + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be a great deal better if, instead of tormenting me, you only + came to look after these wretched birds. If you let them do as they like + there will be no black-pudding for you. Do you hear?’ + </p> + <p> + Desirée only laughed. What of it, if the fowls did drink a few drops of + the blood? It would fatten them. Then she again tried to drag La Teuse off + to the cow, but the old servant refused to go. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must go and toll the bell. The procession will be coming out of church + directly. You know that quite well.’ + </p> + <p> + At this moment the voices in the church rose yet more loudly, and a sound + of steps could be distinctly heard. + </p> + <p> + ‘No! no!’ insisted Desirée, dragging La Teuse towards the stable. ‘Just + come and look at her, and tell me what ought to be done.’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse shrugged her shoulders. All that the cow wanted was to be left + alone and not bothered. Then she set off towards the vestry, but, as she + passed the shed, she raised a fresh cry: + </p> + <p> + ‘There! there!’ she shrieked, shaking her fist. ‘Ah! the little wretch!’ + </p> + <p> + Matthew was lying at full length on his back, with his feet in the air, + under the shed, waiting to be singed.* The gash which the knife had made + in his neck was still quite fresh, and was beaded with drops of blood. And + a little white hen was very delicately picking off these drops of blood + one by one. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In some parts of France pigs, when killed, are singed, not scalded, + as is, I think, the usual practice in England.—ED. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Why, of course,’ quietly remarked Desirée, ‘she’s regaling herself.’ And + the girl stooped and patted the pig’s plump belly, saying: ‘Eh! my fat + fellow, you have stolen their food too often to grudge them a wee bit of + your neck now!’ + </p> + <p> + La Teuse hastily doffed her apron and threw it round Matthew’s neck. Then + she hurried away and disappeared within the church. The great door had + just creaked on its rusty hinges, and a burst of chanting rose in the open + air amidst the quiet sunshine. Suddenly the bell began to toll with slow + and regular strokes. Desirée, who had remained kneeling beside the pig + patting his belly, raised her head to listen, while still continuing to + smile. When she saw that she was alone, having glanced cautiously around, + she glided away into the cow’s stable and closed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + The little iron gate of the graveyard, which had been opened quite wide to + let the body pass, hung against the wall, half torn from its hinges. The + sunshine slept upon the herbage of the empty expanse, into which the + funeral procession passed, chanting the last verse of the <i>Miserere</i>. + Then silence fell. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Requiem ternam dona ei, Domine</i>,’ resumed Abbé Mouret, in solemn + tones. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Et lux perpetua luceat ei</i>,’ Brother Archangias bellowed. + </p> + <p> + At the head walked Vincent, wearing a surplice and bearing the cross, a + large copper cross, half the silver plating of which had come off. He + lifted it aloft with both his hands. Then followed Abbé Mouret, looking + very pale in his black chasuble, but with his head erect, and without a + quiver on his lips as he chanted the office, gazing into the distance with + fixed eyes. The flame of the lighted candle which he was carrying scarcely + showed in the daylight. And behind him, almost touching him, came Albine’s + coffin, borne by four peasants on a sort of litter, painted black. The + coffin was clumsily covered with too short a pall, and at the lower end of + it the fresh deal of which it was made could be seen, with the heads of + the nails sparkling with a steely glitter. Upon the pall lay flowers: + handfuls of white roses, hyacinths, and tuberoses, taken from the dead + girl’s very bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just be careful!’ cried Brother Archangias to the peasants, as they + slightly tilted the litter in order to get it through the gateway. ‘You + will be upsetting everything on to the ground!’ + </p> + <p> + He kept the coffin in its place with one of his fat hands. With the other—as + there was no second clerk—he was carrying the holy-water vessel, and + he likewise represented the choirman, the rural guard, who had been unable + to come. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, too, you others,’ he exclaimed, turning round. + </p> + <p> + There was a second funeral, that of Rosalie’s baby, who had died the + previous day from an attack of convulsions. The mother, the father, old + mother Brichet, Catherine, and two big girls, La Rousse and Lisa, were + there. The two last were carrying the baby’s coffin, one supporting each + end. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly all voices were hushed again, and there came another interval + whilst the bell continued tolling in slow and desolate accents. The + funeral procession crossed the entire burial-ground, going towards the + corner which was formed by the church and the wall of Desirée’s + poultry-yard. Swarms of grasshoppers leaped away at the approaching + footsteps, and lizards hurried into their holes. A heavy warmth hung over + this corner of the loamy cemetery. The crackling of the dry grass beneath + the tramp of the mourners sounded like choking sobs. + </p> + <p> + ‘There! stop where you are!’ cried the Brother, barring the way before the + two big girls who were carrying the baby’s coffin. ‘Wait for your turn. + Don’t be getting in our legs here.’ + </p> + <p> + The two girls laid the baby on the ground. Rosalie, Fortune, and old + mother Brichet were lingering in the middle of the graveyard, while + Catherine slyly followed Brother Archangias. Albine’s grave was on the + left hand of Abbé Caffin’s tomb, whose white stone seemed in the sunshine + to be flecked with silvery spangles. The deep cavity, freshly dug that + morning, yawned amidst thick tufts of grass. Big weeds, almost uprooted, + drooped over the edges, and a fallen flower lay at the bottom, staining + the dark soil with its crimson petals. When Abbé Mouret came forward, the + soft earth crumbled and gave way beneath his feet; he was obliged to step + back to keep himself from slipping into the grave. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Ego sum</i>—’ he began in a full voice, which rose above the + mournful tolling of the bell. + </p> + <p> + During the anthem, those who were present instinctively cast furtive + glances towards the bottom of the empty grave. Vincent, who had planted + the cross at the foot of the cavity opposite the priest, pushed the loose + earth with his foot, and amused himself by watching it fall. This drew a + laugh from Catherine, who was leaning forward from behind him to get a + better view. The peasants had set the litter on the grass and were + stretching their arms, while Brother Archangias prepared the sprinkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come here, Voriau!’ called Fortune. + </p> + <p> + The big black dog, who had gone to sniff at the coffin, came back sulkily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why has the dog been brought?’ exclaimed Rosalie. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! he followed us,’ said Lisa, smiling quietly. + </p> + <p> + They were all chatting together in subdued tones round the baby’s coffin. + The father and mother occasionally forgot all about it, but on catching + sight of it again, lying between them at their feet, they relapsed into + silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘And so old Bambousse wouldn’t come?’ said La Rousse. Mother Brichet + raised her eyes to heaven. + </p> + <p> + ‘He threatened to break everything to pieces yesterday when the little one + died,’ said she. ‘No, no, I must say that he is not a good man. Didn’t he + nearly strangle me, crying out that he had been robbed, and that he would + have given one of his cornfields for the little one to have died three + days before the wedding?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One can never tell what will happen,’ remarked Fortune with a knowing + look. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the good of the old man putting himself out about it? We are + married, all the same, now,’ added Rosalie. + </p> + <p> + Then they exchanged a smile across the little coffin while Lisa and La + Rousse nudged each other with their elbows. But afterwards they all became + very serious again. Fortune picked up a clod of earth to throw at Voriau, + who was now prowling about amongst the old tombstones. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! they’ve nearly finished over there, now!’ La Rousse whispered very + softly. + </p> + <p> + Abbé Mouret was just concluding the <i>De profundis</i> in front of + Albine’s grave. Then, with slow steps, he approached the coffin, drew + himself up erect, and gazed at it for a moment without a quiver in his + glance. He looked taller, his face shone with a serenity that seemed to + transfigure him. He stooped and picked up a handful of earth, and + scattered it over the coffin crosswise. Then, in a voice so steady and + clear that not a syllable was lost, he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Revertitur in terrain suam unde erat, et spiritus redit ad Deum qui + dedit illum</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + A shudder ran through those who were present. Lisa seemed to reflect for a + moment, and then remarked with an expression of worry: ‘It is not very + cheerful, eh, when one thinks that one’s own turn will come some day or + other.’ + </p> + <p> + But Brother Archangias had now handed the sprinkler to the priest, who + took it and shook it several times over the corpse. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Requiescat in pace</i>,’ he murmured. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Amen</i>,’ responded Vincent and the Brother together, in tones so + respectively shrill and deep that Catherine had to cram her fist into her + mouth to keep from laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, indeed, it is certainly not cheerful,’ continued Lisa. ‘There really + was nobody at all at that funeral. The graveyard would be quite empty + without us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve heard say that she killed herself,’ said old mother Brichet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know,’ interrupted La Rousse. ‘The Brother didn’t want to let her + be buried amongst Christians, but Monsieur le Curé said that eternity was + for everybody. I was there. But all the same the Philosopher might have + come.’ + </p> + <p> + At that very moment Rosalie reduced them all to silence by murmuring: + ‘See! there he is, the Philosopher.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeanbernat was, indeed, just entering the graveyard. He walked straight to + the group that stood around Albine’s grave; and he stepped along with so + lithe, so springy a gait, that none of them heard him coming. When he was + close to them, he remained for a moment behind Brother Archangias and + seemed to fix his eyes, for an instant, on the nape of the Brother’s neck. + Then, just as the Abbé Mouret was finishing the office, he calmly drew a + knife from his pocket, opened it, and with a single cut sliced off the + Brother’s right ear. + </p> + <p> + There had been no time for any one to interfere. The Brother gave a + terrible yell. + </p> + <p> + ‘The left one will be for another occasion,’ said Jeanbernat quietly, as + he threw the ear upon the ground. Then he went off. + </p> + <p> + So great and so general was the stupefaction that nobody followed him. + Brother Archangias had dropped upon the heap of fresh soil which had been + thrown out of the grave. He was staunching his bleeding wound with his + handkerchief. One of the four peasants who had carried the coffin, wanted + to lead him away, conduct him home; but he refused with a gesture and + remained where he was, fierce and sullen, wishing to see Albine lowered + into the pit. + </p> + <p> + ‘There! it’s our turn at last!’ said Rosalie with a little sigh. + </p> + <p> + But Abbé Mouret still lingered by the grave, watching the bearers who were + slipping cords under Albine’s coffin in order that they might let it down + gently. The bell was still tolling; but La Teuse must have been getting + tired, for it tolled irregularly, as though it were becoming a little + irritated at the length of the ceremony. + </p> + <p> + The sun was growing hotter and the Solitaire’s shadow crept slowly over + the grass and the grave mounds. When Abbé Mouret was obliged to step back + in order to give the bearers room, his eyes lighted upon the marble + tombstone of Abbé Caffin, that priest who also had loved, and who was now + sleeping there so peacefully beneath the wild-flowers. + </p> + <p> + Then, all at once, even as the coffin descended, supported by the cords, + whose knots made it strain and creak, a tremendous uproar arose in the + poultry-yard on the other side of the wall. The goat began to bleat. The + ducks, the geese, and the turkeys raised their loudest calls and flapped + their wings. The fowls all cackled at once. The yellow cock, Alexander, + crowed forth his trumpet notes. The rabbits could even be heard leaping in + their hutches and shaking their wooden floors. And, above all this lifeful + uproar of the animal creation, a loud laugh rang out. There was a rustling + of skirts. Desirée, with her hair streaming, her arms bare to the elbows, + and her face crimson with triumph, burst into sight, her hands resting + upon the coping of the wall. She had doubtless climbed upon the + manure-heap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge!’ she cried. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Albine’s coffin had reached the bottom of the grave. The + cords had just been withdrawn. One of the peasants was throwing the first + shovelful of earth into the cavity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Serge! Serge!’ Desirée cried, still more loudly, clapping her hands, ‘the + cow has got a calf!’ + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE END +</pre> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABBÉ MOURET'S TRANSGRESSION ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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