diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/53918-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53918-8.txt | 5215 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 5215 deletions
diff --git a/old/53918-8.txt b/old/53918-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fa62593..0000000 --- a/old/53918-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5215 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Woman and the Priest, by Grazia Deledda - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Woman and the Priest - -Author: Grazia Deledda - -Translator: Mary G. Steegmann - -Release Date: January 8, 2017 [EBook #53918] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN AND THE PRIEST *** - - - - -Produced by Andrés V. Galia, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -The Woman and the Priest - - - - -_Novels of To-day_ - -(_Uniform with this volume_) - - - The Highbrows _by_ C. E. M. Joad - The Age of Consent _by_ Evelyn Fane - A French Girl in London _by_ A. Orna - My Daughter Helen _by_ Allan Monkhouse - People _by_ Pierre Hamp - - - - - The Woman _&_ the - Priest _by_ Grazia Deledda - - _Translated from the Italian by_ Mary G. Steegmann - - [Illustration] - - Jonathan Cape - Eleven Gower Street, London - - - - - _First published in 1922_ - _All rights reserved_ - - - _Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_. - - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - Translator's Note 5 - Chapter 1 7 - Chapter 2 29 - Chapter 3 51 - Chapter 4 71 - Chapter 5 89 - Chapter 6 111 - Chapter 7 129 - Chapter 8 147 - Chapter 9 163 - Chapter 10 177 - Chapter 11 195 - Chapter 12 213 - Chapter 13 227 - Chapter 14 239 - - - - -Translator's Note - - -_The Woman and the Priest_[A] is an unusual book, both in its story -and its setting in a remote Sardinian hill village, half civilized -and superstitious. But the chief interest lies in the psychological -study of the two chief characters, and the action of the story takes -place so rapidly (all within the space of two days) and the actual -drama is so interwoven with the mental conflict, and all so forced by -circumstances, that it is almost Greek in its simple and inevitable -tragedy. - -[A] Translated from the Italian novel _La Madre_. - -The book is written without offence to any creed or opinions, and -touches on no questions of either doctrine or Church government. It -is just a human problem, the result of primitive human nature against -man-made laws it cannot understand. - - - - -Chapter 1 - - -To-night again Paul was preparing to go out, it seemed. - -From her room adjoining his the mother could hear him moving -about furtively, perhaps waiting to go out until she should have -extinguished her light and got into bed. - -She put out her light, but she did not get into bed. - -Seated close against the door, she clasped her hands tightly -together, those work-worn hands of a servant, pressing the thumbs -one upon the other to give herself courage; but every moment her -uneasiness increased and overcame her obstinate hope that her son -would sit down quietly, as he used to do, and begin to read, or else -go to bed. For a few minutes, indeed, the young priest's cautious -steps were silent. She felt herself all alone. Outside, the noise of -the wind mingled with the murmuring of the trees which grew on the -ridge of high ground behind the little presbytery; not a high wind, -but incessant, monotonous, that sounded as though it were enveloping -the house in some creaking, invisible band, ever closer and closer, -trying to uproot it from its foundations and drag it to the ground. - -The mother had already closed the house door and barricaded it with -two crossed bars, in order to prevent the devil, who on windy nights -roams abroad in search of souls, from penetrating into the house. As -a matter of fact, however, she put little faith in such things. And -now she reflected with bitterness, and a vague contempt of herself, -that the evil spirit was already inside the little presbytery, that -it drank from her Paul's cup and hovered about the mirror he had hung -on the wall near his window. - -Just then she heard Paul moving about again. Perhaps he was actually -standing in front of the mirror, although that was forbidden to -priests. But what had Paul not allowed himself for some considerable -time now? - -The mother remembered that lately she had several times come upon him -gazing at himself in the glass like any woman, cleaning and polishing -his nails, or brushing his hair, which he had left to grow long and -then turned back over his head, as though trying to conceal the holy -mark of the tonsure. And then he made use of perfumes, he brushed his -teeth with scented powder, and even combed out his eyebrows. - -She seemed to see him now as plainly as though the dividing wall -did not exist, a black figure against the white background of his -room; a tall, thin figure, almost too tall, going to and fro with -the heedless steps of a boy, often stumbling and slipping about, -but always holding himself erect. His head was a little too large -for the thin neck, his face pale and over-shadowed by the prominent -forehead that seemed to force the brows to frown and the long eyes to -droop with the burden of it. But the powerful jaw, the wide, full -mouth and the resolute chin seemed in their turn to revolt with scorn -against this oppression, yet not be able to throw it off. - -But now he halted before the mirror and his whole face lighted up, -the eyelids opened to the full and the pupils of his clear brown eyes -shone like diamonds. - -Actually, in the depths of her maternal heart, his mother delighted -to see him so handsome and strong, and then the sound of his furtive -steps moving about again recalled her sharply to her anxiety. - -He was going out, there could be no more doubt about that. He opened -the door of his room and stood still again. Perhaps he, too, was -listening to the sounds without, but there was nothing to be heard -save the encircling wind beating ever against the house. - -The mother made an effort to rise from her chair, to cry out "My -son, Paul, child of God, stay here!" but a power stronger than her -own will kept her down. Her knees trembled as though trying to rebel -against that infernal power; her knees trembled, but her feet -refused to move, and it was as though two compelling hands were -holding her down upon her seat. - -Thus Paul could steal noiselessly downstairs, open the door and go -out, and the wind seemed to engulf him and bear him away in a flash. - -Only then was she able to rise and light her lamp again. But even -this was only achieved with difficulty, because, instead of igniting, -the matches left long violet streaks on the wall wherever she struck -them. But at last the little brass lamp threw a dim radiance over the -small room, bare and poor as that of a servant, and she opened the -door and stood there, listening. She was still trembling, yet she -moved stiffly and woodenly, and with her large head and her short, -broad figure clothed in rusty black she looked as though she had been -hewn with an axe, all of a piece, from the trunk of an oak. - -From her threshold she looked down the slate stairs descending -steeply between white-washed walls, at the bottom of which the door -shook upon its hinges with the violence of the wind. And when she saw -the two bars which Paul had unfastened and left leaning against the -wall she was filled with sudden wild anger. - -Ah no, she must defeat the devil. Then she placed her light on the -floor at the top of the stairs, descended and went out, too. - -The wind seized hold of her roughly, blowing out her skirts and -the handkerchief over her head, as though it were trying to force -her back into the house. But she knotted the handkerchief tightly -under her chin and pressed forward with bent head, as though butting -aside all obstacles in her path. She felt her way past the front of -the presbytery, along the wall of the kitchen garden and past the -front of the church, but at the corner of the church she paused. -Paul had turned there, and swiftly, like some great black bird, his -cloak flapping round him, he had almost flown across the field that -extended in front of an old house built close against the ridge of -land that shut in the horizon above the village. - -The uncertain light, now blue, now yellow, as the moon's face shone -clear or was traversed by big clouds, illumined the long grass of -the field, the little raised piazza in front of the church and -presbytery, and the two lines of cottages on either side of the steep -road, which wound on and downwards till it lost itself amidst the -trees in the valley. And in the centre of the valley, like another -grey and winding road, was the river that flowed on and in its turn -lost itself amidst the rivers and roads of the fantastic landscape -that the wind-driven clouds alternately revealed and concealed on -that distant horizon that lay beyond the valley's edge. - -In the village itself not a light was to be seen, nor even a thread -of smoke. They were all asleep by now in the poverty-stricken -cottages, which clung to the grassy hill-side like two rows of sheep, -whilst the church with its slender tower, itself protected by the -ridge of land behind it, might well represent the shepherd leaning -upon his staff. - -The elder-trees which grew along the parapet of the piazza before -the church were bending and tossing furiously in the wind, black -and shapeless monsters in the gloom, and in answer to their rustling -cry came the lament of the poplars and reeds in the valley. And in -all this dolour of the night, the moaning wind and the moon drowning -midst the angry clouds, was merged the sorrow of the mother seeking -for her son. - -Until that moment she had tried to deceive herself with the hope that -she would see him going before her down into the village to visit -some sick parishioner, but instead, she beheld him running as though -spurred on by the devil towards the old house under the ridge. - -And in that old house under the ridge there was no one save a woman, -young, healthy and alone.... - -Instead of approaching the principal entrance like an ordinary -visitor, he went straight to the little door in the orchard wall, and -immediately it opened and closed again behind him like a black mouth -that had swallowed him up. - -Then she too ran across the meadow, treading in the path his feet had -made in the long grass; straight to the little door she ran, and she -put her open hands against it, pushing with all her strength. But -the little door remained closed, it even seemed to repulse her by an -active power of its own, and the woman felt she must strike it and -cry aloud. She looked at the wall and touched it as though to test -its solidity, and at last in despair she bent her head and listened -intently. But nothing could be heard save the creaking and rustling -of the trees inside the orchard, friends and accomplices of their -mistress, trying to cover with their own noises all other sounds -there within. - -But the mother would not be beaten, she must hear and know--or -rather, since in her inmost soul she already knew the truth, she -wanted some excuse for still deceiving herself. - -Careless now whether she were seen or not, she walked the whole -length of the orchard wall, past the front of the house, and beyond -it as far as the big gate of the courtyard; and as she went she -touched the stones as though seeking one that would give way and -leave a hole whereby she might enter in. But everything was solid, -compact, fast shut--the big entrance gate, the hall door, the barred -windows, were like the openings in a fortress. - -At that moment the moon emerged from behind the clouds and shone -out clear in a lake of blue, illuminating the reddish frontage of -the house, which was partly over-shadowed by the deep eaves of the -overhanging grass-grown roof; the inside shutters of the windows were -closed and the panes of glass shone like greenish mirrors, reflecting -the drifting clouds and the patches of blue sky and the tossing -branches of the trees upon the ridge. - -Then she turned back, striking her head against the iron rings let -into the wall for tethering horses. Again she halted in front of -the chief entrance, and before that big door with its three granite -steps, its Gothic porch and iron gate, she felt suddenly humiliated, -powerless to succeed, smaller even than when, as a little girl, she -had loitered near with other poor children of the village, waiting -till the master of the house should come out and fling them a few -pence. - -It had happened sometimes in those far-off days that the door had -been left wide open and had afforded a view into a dark entrance -hall, paved with stone and furnished with stone seats. The children -had shouted at this and thrust themselves forward even to the -threshold, their voices re-echoing in the interior of the house as in -a cave. Then a servant had appeared to drive them away. - -"What! You here, too, Maria Maddalena! Aren't you ashamed to go -running about with those boys, a great girl like you?" - -And she, the girl, had shrunk back abashed, but nevertheless she had -turned to stare curiously at the mysterious inside of the house. And -just so did she shrink back now and move away, wringing her hands -in despair and staring again at the little door which had swallowed -up her Paul like a trap. But as she retraced her steps and walked -homeward again she began to regret that she had not shouted, that -she had not thrown stones at the door and compelled those inside -to open it and let her try to rescue her son. She repented her -weakness, stood still, irresolute, turned back, then homewards -again, drawn this way and that by her tormenting anxiety, uncertain -what to do: until at last the instinct of self-preservation, the need -of collecting her thoughts and concentrating her strength for the -decisive battle, drove her home as a wounded animal takes refuge in -its lair. - -The instant she got inside the presbytery she shut the door and sat -down heavily on the bottom stair. From the top of the staircase came -the dim flickering light of the lamp, and everything within the -little house, up to now as steady and quiet as a nest built in some -crevice of the rocks, seemed to swing from side to side: the rock was -shaken to its foundations and the nest was falling to the ground. - -Outside the wind moaned and whistled more loudly still; the devil was -destroying the presbytery, the church, the whole world of Christians. - -"Oh Lord, oh Lord!" wailed the mother, and her voice sounded like the -voice of some other woman speaking. - -Then she looked at her own shadow on the staircase wall and nodded -to it. Truly, she felt that she was not alone, and she began to talk -as though another person were there with her, listening and replying. - -"What can I do to save him?" - -"Wait here till he comes in, and then speak to him plainly and firmly -whilst you are still in time, Maria Maddalena." - -"But he would get angry and deny it all. It would be better to go to -the Bishop and beg him to send us away from this place of perdition. -The Bishop is a man of God and knows the world. I will kneel at his -feet; I can almost see him now, dressed all in white, sitting in his -red reception room, with his golden cross shining on his breast and -two fingers raised in benediction. He looks like our Lord Himself! -I shall say to him: Monsignore, you know that the parish of Aar, -besides being the poorest in the kingdom, lies under a curse. For -nearly a hundred years it was without a priest and the inhabitants -forgot God entirely; then at last a priest came here, but Monsignore -knows what manner of man he was. Good and holy till he was fifty -years of age: he restored the presbytery and the church, built a -bridge across the river at his own expense, and went out shooting and -shared the common life of the shepherds and hunters. Then suddenly -he changed and became as evil as the devil. He practised sorcery. -He began to drink and grew overbearing and passionate. He used to -smoke a pipe and swear, and he would sit on the ground playing cards -with the worst ruffians of the place, who liked him and protected -him, however, and for this very reason the others let him alone. -Then, during his latter years, he shut himself up in the presbytery -all alone without even a servant, and he never went outside the -door except to say Mass, but he always said it before dawn, so that -nobody ever went. And they say he used to celebrate when he was -drunk. His parishioners were too frightened to bring any accusation -against him, because it was said that he was protected by the devil -in person. And then when he fell ill there was not a woman who would -go and nurse him. Neither woman nor man, of the decent sort, went -to help him through his last days, and yet at night every window in -the presbytery was lighted up; and the people said that during those -last nights the devil had dug an underground passage from this house -to the river, through which to carry away the mortal remains of the -priest. And by this passage the spirit of the priest used to come -back in the years that followed his death and haunt the presbytery, -so that no other priest would ever come to live here. A priest used -to come from another village every Sunday to say Mass and bury the -dead, but one night the spirit of the dead priest destroyed the -bridge, and after that for ten years the parish was without a priest, -until my Paul came. And I came with him. We found the village and -its inhabitants grown quite wild and uncivilized, without faith -at all, but everything revived again after my Paul came, like the -earth at the return of the spring. But the superstitious were right, -disaster will fall upon the new priest because the spirit of the old -one still reigns in the presbytery. Some say that he is not dead -and that he lives in an underground dwelling communicating with the -river. I myself have never believed in such tales, nor have I ever -heard any noises. For seven years we have lived here, my Paul and I, -as in a little convent. Until a short time ago Paul led the life of -an innocent child, he studied and prayed and lived only for the good -of his parishioners. Sometimes he used to play the flute. He was not -merry by nature, but he was calm and quiet. Seven years of peace and -plenty have we had, like those in the Bible. My Paul never drank, he -did not go out shooting, he did not smoke and he never looked at a -woman. All the money he could save he put aside to rebuild the bridge -below the village. He is twenty-eight years old, is my Paul, and now -the curse has fallen upon him. A woman has caught him in her net. Oh, -my Lord Bishop, send us away from here; save my Paul, for otherwise -he will lose his soul as did the former priest! And the woman must be -saved, too. After all, she is a woman living alone and she has her -temptations also in that lonely house, midst the desolation of this -little village where there is nobody fit to bear her company. My Lord -Bishop, your Lordship knows that woman, you were her guest with all -your following when you came here on your pastoral visitation. There -is room and stuff to spare, in that house! And the woman is rich, -independent, alone, too much alone! She has brothers and a sister, -but they are all far away, married and living in other countries. She -remained here alone to look after the house and the property, and she -seldom goes out. And until a little while ago my Paul did not even -know her. Her father was a strange sort of man, half gentleman, half -peasant, a hunter and a heretic. He was a friend of the old priest, -and I need say no more. He never went to church, but during his last -illness he sent for my Paul, and my Paul stayed with him till he died -and gave him a funeral such as had never been seen in these parts. -Every single person in the village went to it, even the babies were -carried in their mothers' arms. Then afterwards my Paul went on -visiting the only survivor of that household. And this orphan girl -lives alone with bad servants. Who directs her, who advises her? Who -is there to help her if we do not?" - -Then the other woman asked her: - -"Are you certain of this, Maria Maddalena? Are you really sure that -what you think is true? Can you actually go before the Bishop and -speak thus about your son and that other person, and prove it? And -suppose it should not be true?" - -"Oh Lord, oh Lord!" - -She buried her face in her hands, and immediately there rose before -her the vision of her Paul and the woman together in a ground-floor -room in the old house. It was a very large room looking out into the -orchard, with a domed ceiling, and the floor was of pounded cement -with which small sea-shells and pebbles had been mixed; on one -side was an immense fireplace, to right and left of which stood an -arm-chair and in front was an antique sofa. The white-washed walls -were adorned with arms, stags' heads and antlers, and paintings -whose blackened canvases hung in tatters, little of the subjects -being distinguishable in the shadows save here and there a dusky -hand, some vestige of a face, of a woman's hair, or bunch of fruit. - -Paul and the woman were seated in front of the fire, clasping each -other's hands. - -"Oh, my God!" came the mother's moaning cry. - -And in order to banish that diabolic vision she evoked another. It -was the same room again, but illumined now by the greenish light that -came through the barred window looking out over the meadow and the -door which opened direct from the room into the orchard, and through -which she saw the trees and foliage gleaming, still wet with the -autumn dew. Some fallen leaves were blown softly about the floor and -the chains of the antique brass lamp that stood upon the mantelshelf -swung to and fro in the draught. Through a half-open door on the -other side she could see other rooms, all somewhat dark and with -closed windows. - -She stood there waiting, with a present of fruit which her Paul had -sent to the mistress of the house. And then the mistress came, with -a quickened step and yet a little shy; she came from the dark rooms, -dressed in black, her pale face framed between two great knots of -black plaits, and her thin white hands emerging from the shadows like -those in the pictures on the wall. - -And even when she came close and stood in the full light of the -room there was about her small slender figure something evanescent, -doubtful. Her large dark eyes fell instantly on the basket of fruit -standing on the table, then turned with a searching look upon the -woman who stood waiting, and a swift smile, half joy, half contempt, -passed over the sad and sensual curves of her lips. - -And in that moment, though she knew not how or why, the first -suspicion stirred in the mother's heart. - - * * * * * - -She could not have explained the reason why, but her memory dwelt on -the eagerness with which the girl had welcomed her, making her sit -down beside her and asking for news of Paul. She called him Paul as a -sister might have done, but she did not treat her as though she were -their common mother, but rather as a rival who must be flattered and -deceived. She ordered coffee for her, which was served on a large -silver tray by a barefoot maid whose face was swathed like an Arab's. -She talked of her two brothers, both influential men living far away, -taking secret delight in picturing herself between these two, as -between columns supporting the fabric of her solitary life. And then -at last she led the visitor out to see the orchard, through the door -opening straight from the room. - -Big purple figs covered with a silver sheen, pears, and great bunches -of golden grapes hung amidst the vivid green of the trees and vines. -Why should Paul send a gift of fruit to one who possessed so much -already? - -Even now, sitting on the stairs in the dim light of the flickering -lamp, the mother could see again the look, at once ironical and -tender, which the girl had turned upon her as she bade her farewell, -and the manner in which she lowered her heavy eyelids as though -she knew no other way of hiding the feelings her eyes betrayed too -plainly. And those eyes, and that way of revealing her soul in a -sudden flash of truth and then instantly drawing back into herself -again, was extraordinarily like Paul. So much so that during the days -following, when because of his manner and his reserve her suspicions -grew and filled her heart with fear, she did not think with any -hatred of the woman who was leading him into sin, but she thought -only of how she might save her too, as though it had been the saving -of a daughter of her own. - - - - -Chapter 2 - - -Autumn and winter had passed without anything happening to confirm -her suspicions, but now with the return of the spring, with the -blowing of the March winds, the devil took up his work again. - -Paul went out at night, and he went to the old house. - -"What shall I do, how can I save him?" - -But the wind only mocked at her in reply, shaking the house door with -its furious blasts. - -She remembered their first coming to the village, immediately after -Paul had been appointed parish priest here. For twenty years she had -been in service and had resisted every temptation, every prompting -and instinct of nature, depriving herself of love, even of bread -itself, in order that she might bring up her boy rightly and set -him a good example. Then they came here, and just such a furious -wind as this had beset them on their journey. It had been springtime -then, too, but the whole valley seemed to have slipped back into -the grip of winter. Leaves were blown hither and thither, the trees -bent before the blast, leaning one against another, as though gazing -fearfully at the battalions of black clouds driving rapidly across -the sky from all parts of the horizon, while large hailstones fell -and bruised the tender green. - -At the point where the road turns, over-looking the valley, and then -descends towards the river, there was such a sudden onslaught of wind -that the horses came to a dead stop, pricking their ears and neighing -with fear. The storm shook their bridles like some bandit who had -seized their heads to stop them that he might rob the travellers, and -even Paul, although apparently he was enjoying the adventure, had -cried out with vague superstition in his voice: - -"It must be the evil spirit of the old priest trying to prevent us -coming here!" - -But his words were lost in the shrill whistling of the wind, and -although he smiled a little ruefully, a one-sided smile that touched -but one corner of his lips, his eyes were sad as they rested on the -village which now came in sight, like a picture hanging on the green -hill-side on the opposite slope of the valley beyond the tumbling -stream. - -The wind dropped a little after they had crossed the river. The -people of the village, who were as ready to welcome the new priest as -though he were the Messiah, were all gathered together in the piazza -before the church, and on a sudden impulse a group of the younger -men amongst them had gone down to meet the travellers on the river -bank. They descended the hill like a flight of young eagles from the -mountains, and the air resounded with their merry shouts. When they -reached their parish priest they gathered round him and bore him -up the hill in triumph, every now and then firing their guns into -the air as a mark of rejoicing. The whole valley echoed with their -cheering and firing, the wind itself was pacified and the weather -began to clear up. - -Even in this present hour of anguish the mother's heart swelled with -pride when she recalled that other hour of triumph. Again she seemed -to be living in a dream, to be borne as though on a cloud by those -noisy youths, while beside her walked her Paul, so boyish still, -but with a look half divine upon his face as those strong men bowed -before him with respect. - -Up and up they climbed. Fireworks were being let off on the highest -and barest point of the ridge, the flames streaming out like red -banners against the background of black clouds and casting their -reflections on the grey village, the green hill-side and the -tamarisks and elder-trees that bordered the path. - -Up and still up they went. Over the parapet of the piazza leaned -another wall of human bodies and eager faces crowned with men's -caps or framed in women's kerchiefs with long fluttering fringes. -The children's eyes danced with delight at the unwonted excitement, -and on the edge of the ridge the figures of the boys tending the -fireworks looked like slender black demons in the distance. - -Through the wide-open door of the church the flames of the lighted -candles could be seen trembling like narcissi in the wind; the bells -were ringing loudly, and even the clouds in the pale silvery sky -seemed to have gathered round the tower to watch and wait. - -Suddenly a cry rang out from the little crowd: "Here he is! Here he -is!... And he looks like a saint!" - -There was nothing of a saint about him, however, except that air -of utter calm: he did not speak, he did not even acknowledge the -people's greetings, he seemed in no way moved by that popular -demonstration: he only pressed his lips tightly together and bent -his eyes upon the ground with a slight frown, as though tired by -the burden of that heavy brow. Then suddenly, when they had reached -the piazza and were surrounded by the welcoming throng, the mother -saw him falter as though about to fall, a man supported him for -an instant, then immediately he recovered his balance and turning -swiftly into the church he fell on his knees before the altar and -began to intone the evening prayer. - -And the weeping women gave the responses. - - * * * * * - -The poor women wept, but their tears were the happy tears of love and -hope and the longing for a joy not of this world, and the mother felt -the balm of those tears falling on her heart even in this hour of her -grief. Her Paul! Her love, her hope, the embodiment of her desire for -unearthly joy! And now the spirit of evil was drawing him away, and -she sat there at the bottom of the staircase as at the bottom of a -well, and made no effort to rescue him. - -She felt she was suffocating, her heart was heavy as a stone. She -got up in order to breathe more easily, and mounting the stairs she -picked up the lamp and held it aloft as she looked round her bare -little room, where a wooden bedstead and a worm-eaten wardrobe kept -each other company as the only furniture in the place. It was a room -fit only for a servant--she had never desired to better her lot, -content to find her only wealth in being the mother of her Paul. - -Then she went into his room with its white walls and the narrow -virginal bed. This chamber had once been kept as simple and tidy as -that of a girl; he had loved quiet, silence, order, and always had -flowers upon his little writing-table in front of the window. But -latterly he had not cared about anything: he had left his drawers and -cupboards open and his books littered about on the chairs or even on -the floor. - -The water in which he had washed before going out exhaled a strong -scent of roses: a coat had been flung off carelessly and lay on the -floor like a prostrate shadow of himself. That sight and that scent -roused the mother from her preoccupation: she picked up the coat and -thought scornfully that she would be strong enough even to pick up -her son himself. Then she tidied the room, clattering to and fro -without troubling now to deaden the sound of her heavy peasant shoes. -She drew up to the table the leather chair in which he sat to read, -thumping it down on the floor as though ordering it to remain in its -place awaiting the speedy return of its master. Then she turned to -the little mirror hanging beside the window.... - -Mirrors are forbidden in a priest's house, he must forget that he -has a body. On this point, at least, the old priest had observed the -law, and from the road he could have been seen shaving himself by -the open window, behind the panes of which he had hung a black cloth -to throw up the reflection. But Paul, on the contrary, was attracted -to the mirror as to a well from whose depths a face smiled up at -him, luring him down to perish. But it was the mother's own scornful -face and threatening eyes that the little mirror reflected now, and -with rising anger she put out her hand and tore it from its nail. -Then she flung the window wide open and let the wind blow in to -purify the room: the books and papers on the table seemed to come -alive, twisting and circling into every corner, the fringe of the -bed-cover shook and waved and the flame of the lamp flickered almost -to extinction. - -She gathered up the books and papers and replaced them on the table. -Then she noticed an open Bible, with a coloured picture that she -greatly admired, and she bent down to examine it more closely. There -was Jesus the Good Shepherd watering His sheep at a spring in the -midst of a forest. Between the trees, against the background of blue -sky, could be seen a distant city, red in the light of the setting -sun, a holy city, the City of Salvation. - -There had been a time when he used to study far into the night; the -stars over the ridge looked in at his window and the nightingales -sang him their plaintive notes. For the first year after they came to -the village he often talked of leaving and going back into the world: -then he settled down into a sort of waking sleep, in the shadow of -the ridge and the murmur of the trees. Thus seven years passed, and -his mother never suggested they should move elsewhere, for they were -so happy in the little village that seemed to her the most beautiful -in all the world, because her Paul was its saviour and its king. - -She closed the window and replaced the mirror, which showed her now -her own face grown white and drawn, her eyes dim with tears. Again -she asked herself if perhaps she were not mistaken. She turned -towards a crucifix which hung on the wall above a kneeling-stool, -raising the lamp above her head that she might see it better; and -midst the shadows that her movements threw on the wall it seemed as -though the Christ, thin and naked, stretched upon the Cross, bowed -His head to hear her prayer. And great tears coursed down her face -and fell upon her dress, heavy as tears of blood. - -"Lord, save us all! Save Thou me, even me. Thou Who hangest there -pale and bloodless, Thou Whose Face beneath its crown of thorns is -sweet as a wild rose, Thou Who art above our wretched passions, save -us all!" - -Then she hurried out of the room and went downstairs. She passed -through the tiny dining-room, where drowsy flies, startled by the -lamp, buzzed heavily round and the howling wind and swaying trees -outside beat like rain upon the small, high window and thence into -the kitchen, where she sat down before the fire, already banked up -with cinders for the night. Even there the wind seemed to penetrate -by every crack and cranny, so that instead of being in the long low -kitchen, whose uneven ceiling was supported by smoke-blackened beams -and rafters, she felt as if she were in a rocking boat adrift on a -stormy sea. And although determined to wait up for her son and begin -the battle at once, she still fought against conviction and tried to -persuade herself that she was mistaken. - -She felt it unjust that God should send her such sorrow, and she went -back over her past life, day by day, trying to find some reason for -her present unhappiness; but all her days had passed hard and clean -as the beads of the rosary she held in her shaking fingers. She had -done no wrong, unless perchance sometimes in her thoughts. - -She saw herself again as an orphan in the house of poor relations, -in that same village, ill-treated by every one, toiling barefoot, -bearing heavy burdens on her head, washing clothes in the river, or -carrying corn to the mill. An elderly man, a relative of hers, was -employed by the miller, and each time she went down to the mill, if -there was nobody to see him, he followed her into the bushes and -tufts of tamarisk and kissed her by force, pricking her face with -his bristly beard and covering her with flour. When she told of -this, the aunts with whom she lived would not let her go to the mill -again. Then one day the man, who ordinarily never came up to the -village, suddenly appeared at the house and said he wished to marry -the girl. The other members of the family laughed at him, slapped him -on the back and brushed the flour off his coat with a broom. But he -took no notice of their jests and kept his eyes fixed on the girl. -At last she consented to marry him, but she continued to live with -her relations and went down each day to the mill to see her husband, -who always gave her a small measure of flour unknown to his master. -Then one day as she was going home with her apron full of flour she -felt something move beneath it. Startled, she dropped the corners of -her apron and all the flour was scattered, and she was so giddy that -she had to sit down on the ground. She thought it was an earthquake, -the houses rocked before her eyes, the path went up and down and she -flung herself prone on the floury grass. Then she got up and ran home -laughing, yet afraid, for she knew she was with child. - - * * * * * - -She was left a widow before her Paul was old enough to talk, but his -bright baby eyes followed her everywhere, and she had mourned for her -husband as for a good old man who had been kind to her, but nothing -more. She was soon consoled, however, for a cousin proposed that they -should go together to the town and there take service. - -"In that way you will be able to support your boy, and later on you -can send for him and put him to school." - -And so she worked and lived only for him. - -She had lacked neither the occasion nor the inclination to indulge in -pleasures, if not in sin. Master and servants, peasant and townsman, -all had tried to catch her as once the old kinsman had caught her -amongst the tamarisks. Man is a hunter and woman his prey, but she -had succeeded in evading all pitfalls and keeping herself pure and -good, since she already looked on herself as the mother of a priest. -Then wherefore now this chastisement, O Lord? - -She bowed her weary head and the tears rolled down her face and fell -on the rosary in her lap. - -Gradually she grew drowsy, and confused memories floated through her -mind. She thought she was in the big warm kitchen of the Seminary, -where she had been servant for ten years and where she had succeeded -in getting her Paul admitted as student. Black figures went silently -to and fro, and in the passage outside she could hear the smothered -laughter and larking the boys indulged in when there was nobody to -reprove them. Tired to death, she sat beside a window opening on to -a dark yard, a duster on her lap, but too weary to move so much as a -finger towards her work. In the dream, too, she was waiting for Paul, -who had slipped out of the Seminary secretly without telling her -where he was going. - -"If they find out they will expel him at once," she thought, and she -waited anxiously till the house was quite quiet that she might let -him in without being observed. - -Suddenly she awoke and found herself back in the narrow presbytery -kitchen, shaken by the wind like a ship at sea, but the impression of -the dream was so strong that she felt on her lap for the duster and -listened for the smothered laughter of the boys knocking each other -about in the passage. Then in a moment reality gripped her again, -and she thought Paul must have come in while she was fast asleep and -thus succeeded in escaping her notice. And actually, midst all the -creakings and shaking caused by the wind, she could hear steps inside -the house: some one was coming downstairs, crossing the ground-floor -rooms, entering the kitchen. She thought she was still dreaming -when a short, stout priest, with a week's growth of beard upon his -chin, stood before her and looked her in the face with a smile. The -few teeth he had left were blackened with too much smoking, his -light-coloured eyes pretended to be fierce, but she could tell that -he was really laughing, and immediately she knew him for the former -priest--but still she did not feel afraid. - -"It is only a dream," she told herself, but in reality she knew she -only said that to give herself courage and that it was no phantom, -but a fact. - -"Sit down," she said, moving her stool aside to make room for him -in front of the fire. He sat down and drew up his cassock a little, -exhibiting a pair of discoloured and worn blue stockings. - -"Since you are sitting here doing nothing, you might mend my -stockings for me, Maria Maddalena: I have no woman to look after me," -he said simply. And she thought to herself: - -"Can this be the terrible priest? That shows I am still dreaming." - -And then she tried to make him betray himself: - -"If you are dead you have no need of stockings," she said. - -"How do you know I am dead? I am very much alive, on the contrary, -and sitting here. And before long I am going to drive both you and -your son out of my parish. It was a bad thing for you, coming here, -you had better have brought him up to follow his father's trade. But -you are an ambitious woman, and you wanted to come back as mistress -where you had lived as a servant: so now you will see what you have -gained by it!" - -"We will go away," she answered humbly and sadly. "Indeed, I want to -go. Man or ghost, whatever you are, have patience for a few days and -we shall be gone." - -"And where can you go?" said the old priest. "Wherever you go it will -be the same thing. Take rather the advice of one who knows what he is -talking about and let your Paul follow his destiny. Let him know the -woman, otherwise the same thing will befall him that befell me. When -I was young I would have nothing to do with women, nor with any other -kind of pleasure. I only thought of winning Paradise, and I failed to -perceive that Paradise is here on earth. When I did perceive it, it -was too late: my arm could no longer reach up to gather the fruit of -the tree and my knees would not bend that I might quench my thirst -at the spring. So then I began to drink wine, to smoke a pipe and to -play cards with all the rascals of the place. You call them rascals, -but I call them honest lads who enjoy life as they find it. It does -one good to be in their company, it diffuses a little warmth and -merriment, like the company of boys on a holiday. The only difference -is that it is always holiday for them, and therefore they are even -merrier and more careless than the boys, who cannot forget that they -must soon go back to school." - -While he was talking thus the mother thought to herself: - -"He is only saying these things in order to persuade me to leave my -Paul alone and let him be damned. He has been sent by his friend and -master, the Devil, and I must be on my guard." - -Yet, in spite of herself, she listened to him readily and found -herself almost agreeing with what he said. She reflected that, in -spite of all her efforts, Paul too might "take a holiday," and -instinctively her mother's heart instantly sought excuses for him. - -"You may be right," she said with increased sadness and humility, -which now, however, was partly pretence. "I am only a poor, ignorant -woman and don't understand very much: but one thing I am sure of, -that God sent us into the world to suffer." - -"God sent us into the world to enjoy it. He sends suffering to punish -us for not having understood how to enjoy, and that is the truth, -you fool of a woman! God created the world with all its beauty and -gave it to man for his pleasure: so much the worse for him if he does -not understand! But why should I trouble to explain this to you--all -I mind about is turning you out of this place, you and your Paul, and -so much the worse for you if you want to stop!" - -"We are going, never fear, we are going very soon. That I can promise -you, for it's my wish, too." - -"You only say that because you are afraid of me. But you are wrong -to be afraid. You think that it was I who prevented your feet from -walking and your matches from striking: and perhaps it was I, but -that is not to say that I mean any harm to you or your Paul. I only -want you to go away. And mind, if you do not keep your word you will -be sorry! Well, you will see me again and I shall remind you of this -conversation. Meanwhile, I will leave you my stockings to mend." - -"Very well, I will mend them." - -"Then shut your eyes, for I don't choose that you should see my bare -legs. Ha, ha!" he laughed, pulling off one shoe with the toe of the -other and bending down to draw off his stockings, "no woman has ever -seen my bare flesh, however much they have slandered me, and you are -too old and ugly to be the first. Here is one stocking, and here is -the other; I shall come and fetch them soon...." - - * * * * * - -She opened her eyes with a start. She was alone again, in the kitchen -with the wind howling round it. - -"O Lord, what a dream!" she murmured with a sigh. Nevertheless, -she stooped to look for the stockings, and she thought she heard -the faint footfall of the ghost as it passed out of the kitchen, -vanishing through the closed door. - - - - -Chapter 3 - - -When Paul left the woman's house and found himself out in the meadow -again he too had the sensation that there was something alive, -something ghostly, undefinable in the wind. It buffeted him about and -chilled him through and through after his ardent dream of love, and -as it twisted and flattened his coat against his body he thought with -a quiver of the woman clinging to him in a passionate embrace. - -When he turned the corner by the church the fury of the wind forced -him to stop for a moment, with head bent before the blast, one hand -holding on his hat and the other clutching his coat together. He had -no breath left, and giddiness overcame him as it had overcome his -young mother that far-off day on the way from the mill. - -And with mingled excitement and loathing he felt that something -terrible and great was born in him at that moment: for the first time -he realized clearly and unmistakably that he loved Agnes with an -earthly love, and that he gloried in this love. - -Until a few hours ago he had been under a delusion, persuading both -himself and her that his love was purely spiritual. But he had to -admit that it was she who had first let her gaze linger upon him, -that from their earliest meeting her eyes had sought his with a look -that implored his help and his love. And little by little he had -yielded to the fascination of that appeal, had been drawn to her by -pity, and the solitude that surrounded her had brought them together. - -And after their eyes had met their hands had sought and found each -other, and that night they had kissed. And now his blood, which had -flowed quietly so many years, rushed through his veins like liquid -fire and the weak flesh yielded, at once the vanquished and the -victor. - -The woman had proposed that they two should secretly leave the -village and live or die together. In the intoxication of the moment -he had agreed to the proposal and they were to meet again the -following night to settle their plans. But now the reality of the -outside world, and that wind that seemed trying to strip him bare, -tore away the veil of self-deception. Breathless, he stood before the -church door; he was icy cold, and felt as though he were standing -naked there in the midst of the little village, and that all his poor -parishioners, sleeping the sleep of the weary, were beholding him -thus in their dreams, naked, and black with sin. - -Yet all the time he was thinking how best to plan his flight with -the woman. She had told him that she possessed much money.... Then -suddenly he felt impelled to go back to her that instant and dissuade -her; he actually walked a few steps beside the wall where his mother -had passed shortly before, then turned back in despair and fell on -his knees in front of the church door and leaned his head against -it, crying low, "O God, save me!" and his black cloak was blown -flapping about his shoulders as he knelt there, like a vulture nailed -alive upon the door. - -His whole soul was fighting savagely, with a violence greater even -than that of the wind on those high hills; it was the supreme -struggle of the blind instinct of the flesh against the dominion of -the spirit. - -After a few moments he rose to his feet, uncertain still which of the -two had conquered. But his mind was clearer and he recognized the -real nature of his motives, confessing to himself that what swayed -him most, more than the fear and the love of God, more than the -desire for promotion and the hatred of sin, was his terror of the -consequences of an open scandal. - -The realization that he judged himself so mercilessly encouraged him -to hope still for salvation. But at the bottom of his heart he knew -he was henceforth bound to that woman as to life itself, that her -image would be with him in his house, that he would walk at her side -by day and at night sleep entangled in the inextricable meshes of -her long dark hair. And beneath his sorrow and remorse, deeper and -stronger still, he felt a tumult of joy glow through his inmost being -as a subterranean fire burns within the earth. - -Directly he opened the presbytery door he perceived the streak of -light that issued from the kitchen and shone across the little -dining-room into the entrance hall. Then he saw his mother sitting by -the dead ashes, as though watching by a corpse, and with a pang of -grief, a grief that never left him again, he instantly knew the whole -truth. - -He followed the streak of light through the little dining-room, -faltered a second at the kitchen door, and then advanced to the -hearth with hands outstretched as though to save himself from falling. - -"Why have you not gone to bed?" he asked curtly. - -His mother turned to look at him, her dream-haunted face still -deathly pale; yet she was steady and quiet, almost stern, and while -her eyes sought those of her son, his tried to evade her gaze. - -"I was waiting up for you, Paul. Where have you been?" - -He knew instinctively that every word that was not strictly true -would be only a useless farce between them; yet he was forced to lie -to her. - -"I have been with a sick person," he replied quickly. - -For an instant his deep voice seemed to disperse the evil dream; for -an instant only, and the mother's face was transfigured with joy. -Then the shadow fell again on face and heart. - -"Paul," she said gently, lowering her eyes with a feeling of shame, -but with no hesitation in her speech, "Paul, come nearer to me, I -have something to say to you." - -And although he moved no nearer to her, she went on speaking in a low -voice, as though close to his ear: - -"I know where you have been. For many nights now I have heard you go -out, and to-night I followed you and saw where you went. Paul, think -of what you are doing!" - -He did not answer, made no sign that he had heard. His mother raised -her eyes and beheld him standing tall and straight above her, pale -as death, his shadow cast by the lamp upon the wall behind him, -motionless as though transfixed upon a cross. And she longed for him -to cry out and reproach her, to protest his innocence. - -But he was remembering his soul's appeal as he knelt before the -church door, and now God had heard his cry and had sent his own -mother to him to save him. He wanted to bow before her, to fall at -her knee and implore her to lead him away from the village, then and -there, immediately; and at the same time he was shaking with rage and -humiliation, humiliation at finding his weakness exposed, rage at -having been watched and followed. Yet he grieved for the sorrow he -was causing her. Then suddenly he remembered that he had not only to -save himself, but to save appearances also. - -"Mother," he said, going close to her and placing his hand on her -head, "I tell you that I have been with some one who is ill." - -"There is nobody ill in that house." - -"Not all sick persons are in bed." - -"Then in that case you yourself are more ill than the woman you -went to see, and you must take care of yourself. Paul, I am only an -ignorant woman, but I am your mother, and I tell you that sin is an -illness worse than any other, because it attacks the soul. Moreover," -she added, taking his hand and drawing him down towards her that he -might hear her better, "it is not yourself only that you have to -save, O child of God ... remember that you must not destroy her soul -... nor bring her to harm in this life either." - -He was bending over her, but at these words he shot upright again -like a steel spring. His mother had cut him to the quick. Yes, it was -true; during all that hour of perturbation since he had quitted the -woman he had thought only of himself. - -He tried to withdraw his hand from his mother's, so hard and cold, -but she grasped it so imperatively that he felt as though he had been -arrested and were being led bound to prison. Then his thoughts turned -again to God; it was God who had bound him, therefore he must submit -to be led, but nevertheless he felt the rebellion and desperation of -the guilty prisoner who sees no way of escape. - -"Leave me alone," he said roughly, dragging his hand away by force, -"I am no longer a boy and know myself what is good or bad for me!" - -Then the mother felt as though she were turned to stone, for he had -practically confessed his fault. - -"No, Paul, you don't see the wrong you have done. If you did see it -you would not speak like that." - -"Then how should I speak?" - -"You would not shout like that, but you would assure me there is -nothing wrong between you and that woman. But that is just what -you don't tell me, because you cannot do so conscientiously, and -therefore it is better you should say nothing at all. Don't speak! I -don't ask it of you now, but think well what you are about, Paul." - -Paul made no reply, but moved slowly from his mother's side and stood -in the middle of the kitchen waiting for her to go on speaking. - -"Paul, I have nothing more to say to you, and I have no wish to say -anything more. But I shall talk with God about you." - -Then he sprang back to her side with blazing eyes as though he were -about to strike her. - -"Enough!" he cried, "you will be wise never to speak of this again, -neither to me nor to anyone else; and keep your fancies to yourself!" - -She rose to her feet, stern and resolute, seized him by the arms and -forced him to look her straight in the eyes; then she let him go and -sat down again, her hands gripping each other tightly in her lap. - -Paul moved towards the door, then turned and began to walk up -and down the kitchen. The moaning of the wind outside made an -accompaniment to the rustle of his clothes, which was like the -rustle of a woman's dress, for he wore a cassock made of silk and -his cloak was of the very finest material. And in that moment of -indecision, when he felt himself caught in a whirlpool of conflicting -emotions, even that silken rustle seemed to speak and warn him -that henceforth his life would be but a maze of errors and light -things and vileness. Everything spoke to him; the wind outside, that -recalled the long loneliness of his youth, and inside the house -the mournful figure of his mother, the sound of his own steps, the -sight of his own shadow on the floor. To and fro he walked, to and -fro, treading on his shadow as he sought to overcome and stamp -down his own self. He thought with pride that he had no need of -any supernatural aid, such as he had invoked to save him, and then -immediately this pride filled him with terror. - -"Get up and go to bed," he said, coming back to his mother's side; -and then, seeing that she did not move but sat with head bowed as -though asleep, he bent down to look more closely in her face and -perceived that she was weeping silently. - -"Mother!" - -"No," she said, without moving, "I shall never mention this thing to -you again, neither to you nor to anyone else. But I shall not stir -from this place except to leave the presbytery and the village, never -to return, unless you swear to me that you will never set foot in -that house again." - -He raised himself from his bending position, overtaken again by that -feeling of giddiness, and again superstition took hold of him, urging -him to promise whatever his mother asked of him, since it was God -Himself who was speaking by her mouth. And simultaneously a flood -of bitter words rose to his lips, and he wanted to cry out upon his -mother, to throw the blame on her and reproach her for having brought -him from his native village and set his feet upon a way that was not -his. But what would be the use? She would not even understand. Well, -well!... With one hand he made a gesture as though brushing away the -shadows from before his eyes, then suddenly he stretched out this -hand over his mother's head, and in his imagination saw his opened -fingers extend in luminous rays above her: - -"Mother, I swear to you that I will never enter that house again." - -And immediately he left the kitchen, feeling that here was the end of -everything. He was saved. But as he crossed the adjoining dining-room -he heard his mother weeping unrestrainedly, as though she were -weeping for the dead. - - * * * * * - -Back in his room, the scent of roses and the sight of the various -objects strewn about which were associated with his passion, -impregnated and coloured by it, as it were, shook him afresh. He -moved here and there without any reason, opened the window and thrust -his head out into the wind, feeling as helpless as one of the million -leaves whirled about in space, now in the dark shadow, now in the -bright light of the moon, playthings of the winds and clouds. At -last he drew himself up and closed the window, saying aloud as he did -so: - -"Let us be men!" - -He stood erect to his full height, numb as though all his body were -cold and hard and enclosed in an armour of pride. He desired no more -to feel the sensations of the flesh, nor the sorrow nor the joy of -sacrifice, nor the sadness of his loneliness; he had no wish even -to kneel before God and receive the word of approval granted to the -willing servant. He asked nothing from anyone; he wanted only to go -forward in the straight way, alone and hopeless. Yet he was afraid of -going to bed and putting out the light, and instead he sat down and -began to read St. Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians: but the printed -words fled his gaze, they swelled and shrank and danced up and down -before his eyes. Why had his mother wept so bitterly, after he had -sworn an oath to her? What could she have understood? Ah, yes, she -understood; the mother's heart understood only too well the mortal -anguish of her son, his renunciation of life itself. - -Suddenly a wave of red overspread his face, and he raised his head, -listening to the wind. - -"There was no need to have sworn," he said to himself with a doubtful -smile, "the really strong man never swears. Whoever takes an oath, as -I did, is also ready to break his oath, even as I am ready." - -And instantly he knew that the struggle was only really beginning, -and so great was his consternation that he rose from his seat and -went to look at himself in the mirror. - -"Here thou standest, the man appointed by God, and if thou wilt -not give thyself wholly to Him, then the spirit of evil will take -possession of thee for ever." - -Then he staggered to his narrow bed and, dressed as he was, flung -himself down upon it and burst into tears. He wept silently that his -mother might not hear him, and that he might not hear his own crying, -but his heart within him cried aloud and he was wrung with inward -grief. - -"O God, take me, bring me out of this!" - -And the uttered words brought him real relief, as though he had found -a plank of salvation in the midst of that sea of sorrow. - - * * * * * - -The crisis over he began to reflect. Everything seemed clear to -him now, like a landscape seen from a window in the full light of -the sun. He was a priest, he believed in God, he had wedded the -Church and was vowed to chastity, he was like a married man and had -no right to betray his wife. Why he had fallen in love with that -woman and still loved her he did not exactly know. Perhaps he had -reached a sort of physical crisis, when the youth and strength of -his twenty-eight years awoke suddenly from its prolonged sleep and -yearned towards Agnes because she had the closest affinity with him, -and because she too, no longer very young, had like him been deprived -of life and love, shut up in her house as in a convent. - -Thus from the very first it had been love masquerading as friendship. -They had been caught in a net of smiles and glances, and the very -impossibility of there being any question of love between them drew -them together: nobody entertained the faintest suspicion of their -relationship to each other, and they met without emotion, without -fear and without desire. Yet little by little desire crept into that -love of theirs, chaste and pure as a pool of still water beneath a -wall that suddenly crumbles and falls in ruins. - -All these things passed through his mind as he probed deep into his -conscience and found the truth. He knew that from the first glance he -had desired the woman, from the first glance he had possessed her in -his heart, and all the rest had been only self-deception whereby he -had sought to justify himself in his own eyes. - -Thus it was, and he was forced to acknowledge the truth. Thus it was, -because it is man's nature to suffer, to love, to find his mate and -have her and to suffer again; to do good and receive it, to do evil -and receive it, this is the life of man. Yet all his reflections -lifted not one iota of the anguish that weighed upon his heart; and -now he comprehended the true meaning of that anguish: it was the -bitterness of death, for to renounce love and the possession of -Agnes was to renounce life itself. Then his thoughts went further: -"Was not even this vain and futile? When the momentary pleasure of -love is past, the spirit resumes mastery over itself, and, with -a more intense longing for solitude than before, it takes refuge -again within its prison-house, the mortal body that clothes it. Why, -therefore, should he be made unhappy by this loneliness? Had he not -accepted and endured it for so many years, all the best years of his -life? Even supposing he could really escape with Agnes and marry her, -would he not always be alone within himself just the same...?" - -Yet the mere fact of pronouncing her name, the bare idea of the -possibility of living with her, made him spring up in a fever of -excitement. In imagination again he saw her stretched beside him, in -imagination he held out his arms to draw her close to him, slender -and supple as a reed in the stream; he whispered sweet words into -the little hollow behind her ear, covered his face with her loosened -hair, warm and scented like the flowers of the wild saffron. And -biting hard into his pillow, he repeated to her all the Song of -Songs, and when this was ended he told her he would come back to her -the next day, that he was glad to grieve his mother and his God, -glad that he had sworn an oath and given himself over to remorse, -to superstition and to fear, for now he could break loose from -everything and return to her. - - - - -Chapter 4 - - -Then he grew calmer and began to reflect again. - -As a sick man is relieved to know at least the nature of his malady, -so Paul would have been relieved to know at least why all these -things had befallen him, and like his mother, he went over all the -story of his past life. - -The moaning of the wind outside mingled with his earliest memories, -faint and indistinct. He saw himself in a courtyard, where, he did -not know, but perhaps the courtyard of the house where his mother -was a servant, and he was climbing on the wall with other boys. The -top of the wall was edged with pieces of glass as sharp as knives, -but this did not prevent the boys from scrambling up to look over, -even though they cut their hands. As a matter of fact, there was a -certain daring pleasure in wounding themselves, and they showed each -other their blood and then dried it beneath their armpits, under the -delusion that nobody would notice their cut hands. From the top of -the wall they could see nothing except the street, into which they -were perfectly free to go; but they preferred climbing on to the wall -because that was forbidden, and they amused themselves by throwing -stones at the few people who passed and then hiding, their sensations -divided between delight in their own boldness and their fear of being -discovered. A deaf and dumb girl, who was also a cripple, used to sit -by the wood pile at the bottom of the courtyard, and from there she -used to watch them with an expression at once imploring and severe -in her large dark eyes. The boys were afraid of her, but they did -not dare to molest her; on the contrary, they lowered their voices -as though she could hear them and sometimes they even invited her to -play with them. Then the crippled child used to laugh with an almost -insane delight, but she never moved from her corner. - -In imagination he saw again those dark eyes, in whose depths the -light of sorrow and desire already shone; he saw them far off at the -bottom of his memory as at the bottom of that mysterious courtyard, -and it seemed to him that they resembled the eyes of Agnes. - - * * * * * - -Then he saw himself again in that same street where he had thrown -stones at the passers-by, but farther down, at the turning of a -little lane shut in by a group of dilapidated old houses. His home -lay just between the street and the lane, in the house of well-to-do -people, all women and all fat and serious; they used to close all -doors and windows at dusk and they received no visitors except other -women and priests, with whom they used to joke and laugh, but always -in a decorous, guarded manner. - -It had been one of these priests who had caught him by the shoulders -one day, and gripping him firmly between his bony knees and raising -his timid face with a vigorous hand, had asked him: - -"Is it true that you want to be a priest?" - -The boy had nodded yes, and having been given a sacred picture and -a friendly slap he had remained in a corner of the room listening -to the conversation between the priests and the women. They were -discussing the parish priest of Aar and describing how he went -out hunting and smoked a pipe and let his beard grow, yet how -nevertheless the Bishop hesitated to interdict him because he would -have great difficulty in finding another priest willing to bury -himself in that remote village. Moreover, the easygoing priest in -possession threatened to tie up and fling into the river anyone who -ventured to try and oust him from his place. - -"The worst of it is that the simpletons of Aar are attached to the -man, although they are frightened of him and his sorceries. Some of -them actually believe he is the Antichrist, and the women all declare -that they will help him to truss up his successor and throw him into -the river." - -"Do you hear that, Paul? If you become a priest and have any idea of -going back to your mother's village, you must look out for a lively -time!" - -It was a woman who flung this joke at him, Marielena; she was the one -who had charge of him, and when she drew him towards her to comb his -hair her fat stomach and her soft breast used to make him think she -was made of cushions. He was very fond of Marielena; in spite of her -corpulent body she had a refined and pretty face, with cheeks softly -tinted with pink and gentle brown eyes. He used to look up at her as -one looks at the ripe fruit hanging on the tree, and perhaps she had -been his first love. - -Then came his life at the Seminary. His mother had taken him there -one October morning, when the sky was blue and everything smelt of -new wine. The road mounted steeply and at the top of the hill was the -archway which connected the Seminary with the Bishop's house, curved -like a vast frame over the sunny landscape of cottages, trees and -granite steps, with the cathedral tower at the bottom of the picture. -The grass was springing up between the cobblestones in front of the -Bishop's house, several men rode past on horseback and the horses had -long legs with hairy fetlocks and were shod with gleaming iron shoes. -He noticed all these things because he kept his eyes shyly on the -ground, a little ashamed of himself, a little ashamed of his mother. -Yes, why not confess it once for all? He had always been more or -less ashamed of his mother, because she was a servant and came from -that village of poor simpletons. Only later, very much later, had he -overcome this ignoble feeling by sheer force of pride and will, and -the more he had been unreasonably ashamed of his origin, all the more -did he subsequently glory in it to himself and before God, choosing -voluntarily to live in this miserable hamlet, subjecting himself to -his mother, and respecting her most trifling wishes and conforming to -her humblest ways. - -But the remembrance of his mother as a servant, aye, even less than -a servant, a mere drudge in the Seminary kitchen, brought back with -it the most humiliating memories of his youth. And yet she worked -as a servant for his sake. On the days when he went to confession -and communion his Superior obliged him to go and kiss his mother's -hand and ask her pardon for the faults he had committed. The hand -which she dried hurriedly with a dishcloth smelt of soapsuds and was -chapped and wrinkled like an old wall, and he was filled with shame -and rage at being forced to kiss it; but he asked forgiveness of God -for his inability to ask forgiveness of her. - -Thus God had revealed Himself to Paul, as hidden behind his mother -in the damp and smoky kitchen of the Seminary: God Who is in every -place, in heaven and on earth and in all things created. - -And in his hours of exaltation, when he lay in his little room -staring with wide-open eyes into the darkness, he had dwelt with -wonder on the thought, "I shall be a priest, I shall be able to -consecrate the host and change it into God." And at those times he -thought also of his mother, and when he was away from her and could -not see her, he loved her and realized that his own greatness was all -due to her, for instead of sending him to herd goats or carry sacks -of grain to the mill, as his father had done, she was making him into -a priest, one who had power to consecrate the host and change it into -God. - -It was thus he conceived his mission in life. He knew nothing of the -world; his brightest and most emotional memories were the ceremonies -of the great religious festivals, and recalling these memories now, -in all the bitterness of his present anguish, they awoke in him a -sense of light and joy and presented themselves to his mind's eye -as great living pictures. And the remembered music of the cathedral -organ and the sense of mystery in the ceremonies of Holy Week became -part of his present sorrow, of that anguish of life and death which -seemed to weigh him down upon his bed as the burden of man's sin had -lain upon Christ in the sepulchre. - -It was during one of these periods of mystical agitation that for the -first time he had come into intimate relations with a woman. When he -thought of it now it seemed like a dream, neither good nor evil, but -only strange. - -Every holiday he went to visit the women with whom he had lived -during his boyhood, and they welcomed him as though he were already a -priest, with familiar friendliness and cheerfulness, but always with -a certain dignity. When he looked at Marielena he used to blush, and -then scorned himself for blushing, because though he still liked her, -he now saw her in all her crude realism, fat, soft and shapeless; -nevertheless her presence and her gentle eyes still roused little -tremors in him. - -Marielena and her sisters used often to invite him to dinner on feast -days. On one occasion, Palm Sunday, he happened to arrive early, and -whilst his hostesses were busy laying the table and awaiting their -other guests, Paul went out into their little garden and began to -walk up and down the path which ran beside the outer wall, beneath -the aspens covered with little golden leaves. The sky was all a -milky blue, the air soft and warm with the light wind from the -eastern hills, and the cuckoo could already be heard calling in the -distance. - -Just as he was standing on tiptoe childishly to pick a drop of resin -off an almond tree, he suddenly saw a pair of large greenish eyes -fixed upon him from the lane on the other side of the garden wall. -They looked like the eyes of a cat, and the whole personality of the -woman, who was sitting crouched upon the steps of a dark doorway at -the end of the lane, had something feline about it. He could conjure -up her image again so clearly that he even felt as if he still held -the drop of soft resin between his finger and thumb, whilst his -fascinated eyes could not withdraw themselves from hers! And over -the doorway he remembered a little window surrounded by a white line -with a small cross over it. He had known that doorway and that window -very well ever since he was a boy, and the cross placed there as a -charm against temptation had always amused him, because the woman -who lived in the cottage, Maria Paska, was a lost woman. He could see -her now before him, with her fringed kerchief showing her white neck, -and her long coral ear-rings, like two long drops of blood. With her -elbows resting on her knees and her pale, delicate face supported -between her hands, Maria Paska looked at him steadily, and at last -she smiled at him, but without moving. Her white even teeth and the -somewhat cruel expression of her eyes only served to accentuate the -feline look about her face. Suddenly, however, she dropped her hands -into her lap, raised her head and assumed a grave and sad expression. -A big man, with his cap drawn down to hide his face, was coming -cautiously down the lane and keeping close in the shadow of the wall. - -Then Maria Paska got up quickly and went into the house, and the big -man followed her and shut the door. - - * * * * * - -Paul never forgot his terrible agitation as he walked about in the -little garden and thought of those two shut up in that squalid house -in the lane. It was a sort of uneasy sadness, a sense of discomfort -that made him want to be alone and to hide himself like a sick -animal, and during dinner he was unusually silent amidst the cheerful -talk of the other guests. Directly dinner was over he returned to the -garden: the woman was there, on the look-out again and in the same -position as before. The sun never reached the damp corner where her -door was, and she looked as if she were so white and delicate because -she always lived in the shade. - -When she saw the seminarist she did not move, but she smiled at him, -and then her face became grave as on the arrival of the big man. She -called out to Paul, speaking as one would speak to a young boy: - -"I say, will you come and bless my house on Saturday? Last year the -priest who was going round blessing the houses refused to come into -mine. May he go to hell, he and all his bag of tricks!" - -Paul made no answer, he felt inclined to throw a stone at the woman, -in fact he did pick one up from the wall, but then put it back and -wiped his hand on his handkerchief. But all through Holy Week, whilst -he was hearing Mass, or taking part in the sacred function, or, taper -in hand, escorting the Bishop with all the other seminarists, he -always seemed to see the woman's eyes staring at him till it became a -veritable obsession. He had wanted to exorcize her, as one possessed -of the Devil, yet at the same time he felt somehow that the spirit -of evil was within himself. During the ceremony of feet-washing, -when the Bishop stooped before the twelve beggars (who looked as -though they might really have been the twelve apostles), Paul's heart -was moved by the thought that on the Saturday before Easter of the -previous year the priest had refused to bless the house of the lost -woman. And yet Christ had pardoned Mary Magdalene. Perhaps if the -priest had blessed the lost woman's house she might have amended her -ways. This last reflection presently began to take hold of him to -the exclusion of all other thoughts, but on examining it now at this -distance of time he perceived that here his instinct had played him -false, for at that period he had not yet learnt to know himself. And -yet perhaps, even if he had known himself, he would still have gone -back on the Saturday to see the lost woman in the lane. - - * * * * * - -When he turned the corner he saw that Maria Paska was not sitting on -her doorstep, but the door was open, a sign that she had no visitor. -Involuntarily he imitated the big man and went down the lane in the -shadow of the wall, but he wished she had been there on the look-out -and that she had risen up with a grave, sad face at his approach. -When he reached the end of the lane he saw her drawing water from a -well at the side of the house, and his heart gave a jump, for she -looked just like the pictures of Mary Magdalene; and she turned and -saw him as she was drawing up the bucket, and blushed. Never in his -life had he seen a more beautiful woman. Then he was seized with a -desire to run away, but he was too shy, and as she re-entered the -house carrying the jug of water in her hand she said something to him -which he did not understand, but he followed her inside and she shut -the door. A little wooden staircase ending in a trapdoor gave access -to the upper room, the one with the window over which hung a cross as -a protection against temptation, and she led him up, snatching his -cap from his head and tossing it aside with a laugh. - - * * * * * - -Paul went to see her again several times, but after he had been -ordained and had taken the vow of chastity he had kept away from all -women. His senses seemed to have grown petrified within the frozen -armour of his vow, and when he heard scandalous tales of other -priests he felt a pride in his own purity, and only thought of his -adventure with the woman in the lane as an illness from which he had -completely recovered. - -During the first years passed in the little village he thought of -himself as having already lived his life, as having known all it -could offer, misery, humiliation, love, pleasure, sin and expiation; -as having withdrawn from the world like some old hermit and waiting -only for the Kingdom of God. And now suddenly he beheld the earthly -life again in a woman's eyes, and at first he had been so deceived as -to mistake it for the life eternal. - -To love and be loved, is not this the Kingdom of God upon earth? -And his heart swelled within him at the remembrance. O Lord, are we -so blind? Where shall we find the light? Paul knew himself to be -ignorant: his knowledge was made up of fragments of books of which he -only imperfectly understood the meaning, but above all the Bible had -impressed him with its romanticism and its realistic pictures of past -ages. Wherefore he could place no reliance even on himself nor on his -own inward searchings: he realized that he had no self-knowledge, -that he was not master of himself and that he deceived himself ever -and always. - -His feet had been set upon the wrong road. He was a man of strong -natural instincts, like his forbears, the millers and shepherds, and -he suffered because he was not allowed to obey his instincts. Here he -got back to his first simple and correct diagnosis of what ailed him: -he was unhappy because he was a man and was forbidden to lead man's -natural life of love and joy and the fulfilment of life's natural -ends. Then he reflected that pleasure enjoyed leaves only horror and -anguish behind it; therefore it could not be the flesh that cried -out for its chance of life, but rather the soul imprisoned within -the flesh that longed to escape from its prison. In those supreme -moments of love it had been the soul which had soared upward in a -rapid flight, only to fall back more swiftly into its cage; but that -instant of freedom had sufficed to show it the place to which it -would take its flight when its prison days were ended and the wall -of flesh for ever overthrown, a place of infinite joy, the Infinite -itself. - -He smiled at last, saddened and weary. Where had he read all -these things? Certainly he must have read them somewhere, for he -had no pretensions to evolve new ideas himself. But it was of no -consequence, the truth is always the same, alike for all men, as all -men's hearts are alike. He had thought himself different from other -men, a voluntary exile and worthy of being near to God, and perhaps -God was punishing him in this way, by sending him back among men, -into the community of passion and of pain. - -He must rise up and pursue his appointed way. - - - - -Chapter 5 - - -He became aware that some one was knocking at the door. - -Paul started as though suddenly awakened from sleep and sprang up -from his bed with the confused sensation of one who has to depart on -a journey and is afraid of being too late. But directly he tried to -stand up he was forced to sit down weakly on his bed again, for his -limbs gave way under him and he felt as if he had been beaten all -over whilst he lay asleep. Crouched together with his head sunk on -his breast, he could only nod faintly in response to the knock. His -mother had not forgotten to call him early, as he had requested her -on the previous day: his mother was following her own straight path, -she remembered nothing of what had happened during the night and -called him as though this were just like any other morning. - -Yes, it was like any other morning. Paul got up again and began to -dress, and gradually he pulled himself together and stood stiff and -erect in the garments of his order. He flung open the window, and his -eyes were dazzled by the vivid light of the silvery sky; the thickets -on the hill-side, alive with the song of birds, quivered and sparkled -in the morning sun, the wind had dropped and the sound of the church -bell vibrated through the pure air. - -The bell called him, he lost sight of all external things, although -he sought to escape from the things within him: the scent of his room -caused him physical distress and the memories it evoked stung him to -the quick. The bell went on calling him, but he could not make up his -mind to leave his room and he wandered round it almost in a fury. He -looked in the mirror and then turned away, but it was useless for him -to avoid it; the image of the woman was reflected in his mind as in a -mirror, he might break it in a thousand fragments, but each fragment -would still retain that image entire and complete. - -The second bell for Mass was ringing insistently, inviting him to -come: he moved about here and there, searching for something he could -not find, and finally sat down at his table and began to write. He -began by copying out the verses which said, "Enter ye in by the -narrow gate," etc.; then he crossed them out and on the other side of -the paper he wrote: - -"Please do not expect me again. We have mutually entangled each other -in a net of deception and we must cut ourselves loose without delay, -if we want to free ourselves and not sink to the bottom. I am coming -to you no more; forget me, do not write to me, and do not try to see -me again." - -Then he went downstairs and called his mother, and held out the -letter towards her without looking at her. - -"Take this to her at once," he said hoarsely, "try and give it into -her own hands and then come away immediately." - -He felt the letter taken out of his hand and hurried outside, for the -moment uplifted and relieved. - -Now the bell was ringing the third time, pealing out over the quiet -village and the valleys grey in the silvery light of the dawn. Up the -hilly road, as though ascending from the depths of the valley, came -figures of old men with gnarled sticks hanging from their wrists by -leather straps, and women whose heads wrapped in voluminous kerchiefs -looked too large for their small bodies. When they had all entered -the church and the old men had taken their places in front close -by the altar rails, the place was filled with the odour of earth -and field, and Antiochus, the youthful sacristan, swung his censer -energetically, sending out the smoke in the direction of the old men -to drive away the smell. Gradually a dense cloud of incense screened -the altar from the rest of the little church, and the brown-faced -sacristan in his white surplice and the pale-faced priest in his -vestments of red brocade moved about as in a pearly mist. Both Paul -and the boy loved the smoke and the scent of the incense and used it -lavishly. Turning towards the nave, the priest half closed his eyes -and frowned as though the mist impeded his sight; apparently he was -displeased at the small number of worshippers and was waiting for -others to arrive. And in fact a few late comers did enter then, and -last of all his mother, and Paul turned white to the lips. - -So the letter had been delivered and the sacrifice was accomplished: -a deathlike sweat broke out upon his forehead, and as he raised his -hands in consecration his secret prayer was that the offering of his -own flesh and blood might be accepted. And he seemed to see the woman -reading his letter and falling to the ground in a swoon. - -When the Mass was ended he knelt down wearily and recited a Latin -prayer in a monotonous voice. The congregation responded, and he felt -as though he were dreaming and longed to throw himself down at the -foot of the altar and fall asleep like a shepherd on the bare rocks. -Dimly through the clouds of incense he saw in her glass-fronted niche -the little Madonna which the people believed to be miraculous, a -figure as dark and delicate as a cameo in a medallion, and he gazed -at it as though he were seeing it again for the first time after a -long absence. Where had he been all that time? His thoughts were -confused and he could not recollect. - -Then suddenly he rose to his feet and turned round and began to -address the congregation, a thing he only did very occasionally. He -spoke in dialect and in a harsh voice, as though he were scolding the -old men, now thrusting their bearded faces between the pillars of the -altar rails in order to hear better, and the women crouching on the -ground, divided between curiosity and fear. The sacristan, holding -the Mass-book in his arms, glanced at Paul out of his long dark eyes, -then turned them on the people and shook his head, threatening them -in jest if they did not attend. - -"Yes," said the priest, "the number of you who come here grows ever -less; when I have to face you I am almost ashamed, for I feel like -a shepherd who has lost his sheep. Only on Sunday is the church a -little fuller, but I fear you come because of your scruples and not -because of your belief, from habit rather than from need, as you -change your clothes or take your rest. Up now, it is time to awake! -I do not expect mothers of families, or men who have to be at work -before the dawn, to come here every morning, but young women and old -men and children, such as I shall see now when I leave the church, -standing at their own doors to greet the rising sun, all those should -come here to begin the day with God, to praise Him in His own house -and to gain strength for the path they have to tread. If you did this -the poverty that afflicts you would disappear, and evil habits and -temptation would no longer assail you. It is time to awake early in -the morning, to wash yourselves and to change your clothing every day -and not only on Sundays! So I shall expect you all, beginning from -to-morrow, and we will pray together that God will not forsake us -and our little village, as He will not forsake the smallest nest, and -for those who are sick and cannot come here we will pray that they -may recover and be able to march forward too." - -He turned round swiftly and the sacristan did the same, and for a few -minutes there reigned in the little church a silence so intense that -the stone-breaker could be heard at his work behind the ridge. Then -a woman got up and approached the priest's mother, placing a hand on -her shoulder as she bent down and whispered: - -"Your son must come at once to hear the confession of King Nicodemus, -who is seriously ill." - -Roused from her own sad thoughts, the mother raised her eyes to the -speaker. She remembered that King Nicodemus was a fantastic old -hunter who lived in a hut high up in the mountains, and she asked if -Paul would have to climb up there to hear the confession. - -"No," whispered the woman, "his relations have brought him down to -the village." - -So the mother went to tell Paul, who was in the little sacristy, -disrobing with the help of Antiochus. - -"You will come home first and drink your coffee, won't you?" she -asked. - -He avoided looking at her and did not even answer, but pretended to -be in a great hurry to go to the old man who was ill. The thoughts of -both mother and son dwelt upon the same thing, the letter which had -been delivered to Agnes, but neither spoke of it. Then he hastened -away, and she stood there like a block of wood whilst the sacristan -busied himself in replacing the vestments in the black cupboard. - -"It would have been better if I had not told him about Nicodemus -until he had been home and had his coffee," she said. - -"A priest must get accustomed to everything," replied Antiochus -gravely, poking his head round the cupboard door, and then he added -as though to himself as he turned back to his work inside: - -"Perhaps he is angry with me, because he says I am inattentive: but -it's not true, I assure you it's not true! Only when I looked at -those old men I felt inclined to laugh, for they did not understand a -word of the sermon. They sat there with their mouths open, but they -understood nothing. I bet you that old Marco Panizza really thinks he -ought to wash his face every day, he who never washes at all except -at Easter and Christmas! And you'll see that from now on they will -all come to church every day, because he told them that poverty would -disappear if they did that." - -The mother still stood there, her hands clasped beneath her apron. - -"The poverty of the soul," she said, to show that she at least had -understood. But Antiochus only looked at her as he had looked at -the old men, with a strong desire to laugh. Because he was quite -sure that nobody could understand these matters as he understood -them, he who already knew the four gospels by heart and intended to -be a priest himself, which fact did not prevent him from being as -mischievous and inquisitive as other boys. - -As soon as he had finished putting everything in order and the -priest's mother had gone away, Antiochus locked the sacristy and -walked across the little garden attached to the church, all overgrown -with rosemary and as deserted as a cemetery. But instead of going -home to where his mother kept a tavern in one corner of the village -square, he ran off to the presbytery to hear the latest news of King -Nicodemus, and also for another reason. - -"Your son scolded me for not paying attention," he repeated uneasily, -whilst the priest's mother was busy preparing her Paul's breakfast. -"Perhaps he won't have me as sacristan any longer, perhaps he will -take Ilario Panizza. But Ilario cannot read, whereas I have even -learnt to read Latin. Besides, Ilario is so dirty. What do you think? -Will he send me away?" - -"He wants you to pay attention, that is all: it is not right to -laugh in church," she answered sternly and gravely. - -"He is very angry. Perhaps he did not sleep last night, on account of -the wind. Did you hear what an awful wind?" - -The woman made no reply; she went into the dining-room and placed on -the table enough bread and biscuits to satisfy the twelve apostles. -Probably Paul would not touch a thing, but the mere act of moving -about and making preparations for him, as though he were sure to -come in as merry and hungry as a mountain shepherd, did something to -assuage her trouble and perhaps quiet her conscience, which every -moment stung her more and more sharply, and the boy's very remark, -that "perhaps he was angry because he did not sleep last night," -only increased her uneasiness. Her heavy footsteps echoed through -the silent rooms as she went to and fro: she felt instinctively that -although apparently _all was over_, in reality it was all only just -beginning. She had well understood the words he spoke from the altar, -that one must awake early and wash oneself and march forward, and -she went to and fro, up and down, trying to imagine that she was -marching forward in very truth. She went upstairs to put his room in -order; but the mirror and the perfumes still vexed and alarmed her, -in spite of the assurance that everything was now at an end, while -a vision of Paul, pale and rigid as a corpse, seemed to meet her -eyes from the depths of that cursed mirror, to hang with his cassock -on the wall and lie stretched lifeless upon the bed. And her heart -was heavy within her, as though some inward paralysis prevented her -breathing. - -The pillow-slip was still damp with Paul's tears and his fevered -anguish of the night, and as she drew it off to replace it with a -fresh one the thought came to her, for the first time in her life: - -"But why are priests forbidden to marry?" - -And she thought of Agnes's wealth, and how she owned a large house -with gardens and orchards and fields. - -Then suddenly she felt horribly guilty in even entertaining such -thoughts, and quickly drawing on the fresh pillow-slip she went away -into her own room. - -Marching forward? Yes, she had been marching since dawn and was yet -only at the beginning of the way. And however far one went, one -always came back to the same place. She went downstairs and sat by -the fire beside Antiochus, who had not moved and was determined to -wait there all day, if needs be, for the sake of seeing his superior -and making his peace with him. He sat very still, one leg crossed -over the other and his hands clasped round his knee, and presently he -remarked, not without a slight accent of reproach: - -"You ought to have taken him his coffee into the church, as you do -when he is delayed there hearing the women's confessions. As it is, -he will be famished!" - -"And how was I to know he would be sent for in such a hurry? The old -man is dying, it seems," retorted the mother. - -"I don't think that can be true. His grandchildren want him to die -because he has some money to leave. I know the old chap! I saw him -once when I went up into the mountains with my father: he was sitting -amongst the rocks in the sun, with a dog and a tame eagle beside him -and all sorts of dead animals all round. That is not how God orders -us to live!" - -"What does He order, then?" - -"He orders us to live amongst men, to cultivate the ground, and not -to hide our money, but to give it to the poor." - -The little sacristan spoke with a man's confidence, and the priest's -mother was touched and smiled. After all, if Antiochus could say -such sensible things it was because he had been taught by her Paul. -It was her Paul who taught them all to be good, wise and prudent; -and when he really wished to he succeeded in convincing even old men -whose opinions were already fixed, and even thoughtless children. She -sighed, and bending down to draw the coffee-pot nearer the glowing -embers, she said: - -"You talk like a little saint, Antiochus; but it remains to be seen -if you will do as you say when you're a man, whether you really will -give your money to the poor." - -"Yes, I shall give everything to the poor. I shall have a great deal -of money, because my mother makes a lot with her tavern, and my -father is a forest keeper and earns pretty well, too. I shall give -all I get to the poor: God tells us to do that, and He Himself will -provide for us. And the Bible says, the ravens do not sow, neither -do they reap, yet they have their food from God, and the lily of the -valley is clothed more splendidly than the king." - -"Yes, Antiochus, when a man is alone he can do that, but what if he -has children?" - -"That makes no difference. Besides, I shall never have children; -priests are not allowed to have any." - -She turned to look at him; his profile was towards her, against the -bright background of the open doorway and the courtyard outside; it -was a profile of pure, firm outline and dark skin, almost like a head -of bronze, with long lashes shading the eyes with their large dark -pupils. And as she gazed at the boy she could have wept, but she -knew not why. - -"Are you quite sure you want to be a priest?" she asked. - -"Yes, if that is God's will." - -"Priests are not allowed to marry, and suppose that some day you -wanted to take a wife?" - -"I shall not want a wife, since God has forbidden it." - -"God? But it is the Pope who has forbidden it," said the mother, -somewhat taken aback at the boy's answer. - -"The Pope is God's representative on earth." - -"But in olden times priests had wives and families, just as the -Protestant clergy have now," she urged. - -"That is a different thing," said the boy, growing warm over the -argument; "_we_ ought not to have them!" - -"The priests in olden times...." she persisted. - -But the sacristan was well-informed. "Yes, the priests in olden -times," he said, "but then they themselves held a meeting and decided -against it; and those who had no wives or families, the younger ones, -were the very ones who opposed marriage the most strongly. That is as -it should be." - -"The younger ones!" repeated the mother as if to herself. "But they -know nothing about it! And then they may repent, they may even go -astray," she added in a low voice, "they may come to reason and argue -like the old priest." - -A tremor seized her and she looked swiftly round to assure herself -that the ghost was not there, instantly repenting for having thus -evoked it. She did not wish even to think about it, and least of all -in connection with _that matter_. Was it not all ended? Moreover, -Antiochus's face wore an expression of the deepest scorn. - -"That man was not a priest, he was the devil's brother come to earth! -God save us from him! We had best not even think about him!" and -he made the sign of the cross. Then he continued, with recovered -serenity: - -"As for repenting! Do you suppose that _he_, your son, ever dreams of -repenting?" - -It hurt her to hear the boy talk like that. She longed to be able to -tell him something of her trouble, to warn him for the future, yet -at the same time she rejoiced at his words, as though the conscience -of the innocent lad were speaking to her conscience to commend and -encourage it. - -"Does he, does my Paul say it is right for priests not to marry?" she -asked in a low voice. - -"If _he_ does not say it is right, who should say so? Of course he -says it is right; hasn't he said so to you? A fine thing it would be -to see a priest with his wife beside him and a child in his arms! And -when he ought to go and say Mass he has to nurse the baby because -it's howling! What a joke! Imagine your son with one child in his -arms and another hanging on to his cassock!" - -The mother smiled wanly; but there passed before her eyes a fleeting -vision of lovely children running about the house, and there was a -pang at her heart. Antiochus laughed aloud, his dark eyes and white -teeth flashing in his brown face, but there was something cruel in -his laughter. - -"A priest's wife would be a funny thing! When they went out for a -walk together they would look from behind like two women! And would -she go and confess to him, if they lived in a place where there was -no other priest?" - -"What does a mother do? Who do I confess to?" - -"A mother is different. And who is there that your son could marry? -The granddaughter of King Nicodemus, perhaps?" - -He began to laugh merrily again, for the granddaughter of King -Nicodemus was the most unfortunate girl in the village, a cripple and -an idiot. But he instantly grew serious again when the mother, forced -to speak by a will other than her own, said softly: - -"For that matter, there is some one, Agnes." - -But Antiochus objected jealously: "She is ugly, I don't like her, -and he does not like her either." - -Then the mother began to praise Agnes, but she spoke almost in a -whisper as though afraid of being overheard by anyone except the boy, -while Antiochus, his hands still clasped round his knee, shook his -head energetically, his lower lip stuck out in disgust like a ripe -cherry. - -"No, no, I don't like her--can't you hear what I say! She is ugly and -proud and old. And besides...." - -A step sounded in the little hall and instantly they both were silent -and stood waiting. - - * * * * * - - - - -Chapter 6 - - -Paul sat down at the table, which was laid ready for breakfast, and -put his hat on the chair beside him, and while his mother was pouring -out his coffee he asked in a calm voice: - -"Did you take that letter?" - -She nodded, pointing towards the kitchen for fear the boy should hear. - -"Who is there?" asked Paul. - -"Antiochus." - -"Antiochus!" he called, and with one spring the boy was before him, -cap in hand, standing to attention like a little soldier. - -"Listen, Antiochus, you must go back to the church and get everything -ready for taking extreme unction to the old man later on." - -The boy was speechless with joy: so _he_ was no longer angry and was -not going to dismiss him and take another boy in his place! - -"Wait a moment, have you had anything to eat?" - -"He would not have anything to eat; he never will," said the mother. - -"Sit down there," ordered Paul, "you must eat. Mother, give him -something." - -It was not the first time that Antiochus had sat at the priest's -table, so he obeyed without shyness, though his heart beat fast. He -was aware somehow that his position had changed, that the priest was -speaking to him in a way different from usual; he could not explain -how or why, he only felt there was a difference. He looked up in -Paul's face as though he saw him for the first time, with mingled -fear and joy. Fear and joy and a whole throng of new emotions, -gratitude, hope and pride, filled his heart as a nest full of warm -fledglings ready to spread their wings and fly away. - -"Then at two o'clock you must come for your lesson. It is time to set -to work seriously with Latin; and I must write for a new grammar, -mine is centuries old." - -Antiochus had stopped eating: now he went very red and offered his -services enthusiastically without inquiring the why or the wherefore. -The priest looked at him with a smile, then turned his face to the -window, through which the trees could be seen waving against the -clear sky, and his thoughts were evidently far away. Antiochus felt -again as if he had been dismissed and his spirits fell; he brushed -the crumbs from the tablecloth, folded his napkin carefully and -carried the cups into the kitchen. He prepared to wash up, too, -and would have done it very well, for he was accustomed to washing -glasses in his mother's wine-shop; but the priest's mother would not -allow it. - -"Go to the church and get ready," she whispered, pushing him away. He -went out immediately, but before going to the church he ran round to -his mother to warn her to have the house clean and tidy as the priest -was coming to see her. - -Meanwhile the priest's mother had gone back into the dining-room, -where Paul was still idling at the table with a newspaper in front of -him. Usually, when he was at home, he sat in his own room, but this -morning he was afraid of going up there again. He sat reading the -newspaper, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was thinking of the -old dying hunter, who had once confessed to him that he shunned the -company of men because "they are evil itself," and men in mockery had -called him King, as they had called Christ King of the Jews. But Paul -was not interested in the old man's confession; his thoughts turned -rather to Antiochus and his father and mother, for he meant to ask -the latter whether they conscientiously realized what they were doing -in allowing the boy to have his own way and carry out his unreasoning -fancy for becoming a priest. But even this was really of little -importance: what Paul actually wanted was to get away from his own -thoughts, and when his mother came into the room he bowed his head -over his paper, for he knew that she alone could divine what those -thoughts were. - -He sat there with bowed head, but he forbade his lips to frame the -question he longed to ask. The letter had been delivered; what more -was there for him to know? The stone of the sepulchre had been rolled -into its place: but ah! how it weighed upon him, how alive he felt, -buried alive beneath that great stone! - -His mother began to clear the table, putting each object back in the -cupboard that served as a sideboard. It was so quiet that the birds -could be heard chirping in the bushes and the regular tap-tap of the -stone-breaker by the roadside. It seemed like the end of the world, -as though the last habitation of living men was this little white -room, with its time-blackened furniture and its tiled flooring, upon -which the green and gold light from the high window cast a tremulous -reflexion as of water and made the small place seem like some prison -chamber in the dungeon of a castle. - -Paul had drunk his coffee and eaten his biscuits as usual, and now he -was reading the news of the great world far away. Outwardly there -was nothing to show that this day was in any way different from other -days, but his mother would rather he had gone up to his room as was -his custom and shut the door. And why, since he was sitting there, -did he not ask her more about her errand, and to whom she had given -the letter? She went to the kitchen door with a cup in her hand, then -carried it back to the table and stood there. - -"Paul," she said, "I gave the letter into her own hand. She was -already up and dressed, and in the garden." - -"Very well," he answered, without raising his eyes from the newspaper. - -But she could not leave him, she felt she must speak; something -stronger than her will impelled her, something stronger even than the -will of her son. She cleared her throat and fixed her eyes on the -little Japanese landscape painted at the bottom of the cup she was -holding, its colours stained and darkened with coffee. Then she went -on with her tale: - -"She was in the garden, for she gets up early. I went straight to her -and gave her the letter: nobody saw. She took it and looked at it; -then she looked at me, but still she did not open it. I said 'There -is no answer,' and turned to go away, but she said, 'Wait.' Then she -opened the letter as if to show me there was no secret in it, and she -turned as white as the paper itself. Then she said to me, 'Go, and -God be with you!'" - -"That's enough!" he cried sharply, still without looking up, but his -mother saw the lashes quiver over his downcast eyes and his face turn -as white as that of Agnes. For a moment she thought he was about to -faint, then the blood slowly came back into his face and she breathed -again with relief. Such moments as these were terrible, but they must -be met bravely and overcome. She opened her lips to say something -else, to murmur at least, "See what you have done, how you have hurt -both yourself and her!" but at that instant he looked up, jerking -his head back as though to drive the blood of evil passion from his -face, and glaring angrily at his mother, he said roughly: - -"Now that is enough! Do you hear? It's enough! I absolutely refuse -to hear another word on this matter, otherwise I shall do what you -threatened to do last night: I shall go away." - -Then he got up quickly, but instead of going to his room he left the -house again. His mother went into the kitchen, the cup still in her -trembling hands; she put it down on the table and leaned against the -corner of the fireplace, utterly broken down. She knew now he had -gone away for ever; even if he came back he would no longer be her -Paul, but a poor wretch possessed by his evil passion, one who looked -with threatening eyes at whoever crossed his path, like some thief -lying in wait to commit a crime. - -And Paul, indeed, was like one who has fled from home in fear. He had -rushed out to avoid going up to his room, for he had an idea that -Agnes might have got in secretly and be waiting for him there, with -her white face and the letter in her hand. He had escaped from the -house in order to escape from himself, but he was carried away by -his passion more violently than by the wind on the night before. He -crossed the meadow without any definite aim, feeling as though he -were some inanimate thing flung bodily against the wall of Agnes's -house and thrown back by the rebound as far as the square before -the church, where the old men and the boys and the beggars sit on -the low parapet all day long. Scarce knowing how he had come there, -Paul stayed a little while talking to one or another of them without -heeding their replies, and then descended the steep road that led -from the village down to the valley. But he saw nothing of the road -he trod nor the landscape before his eyes: his whole world had turned -upside-down and was a mere chaos of rocks and ruins, upon which he -looked down as boys lie flat on the ground at the cliff's edge to -gaze over into the depths below. - -He turned and climbed up again towards the church. The village seemed -almost deserted; here and there a peach tree showed its ripe fruit -over a garden wall and little white clouds floated across the clear -September sky like a peaceful flock of sheep. In one house a child -was crying, from another came the regular sound of the weaver at his -loom. The rural _guardia_, half-keeper, half-police, who had charge -of the village also, the only public functionary in the place, came -strolling along the road with his great dog on a leash. He wore a -mixed costume, the hunter's jacket of discoloured velvet with the -blue, red-striped trousers of his official uniform, and his dog was -a huge black and red animal with bloodshot eyes, something between -a lion and a wolf, known and feared by villagers and peasants, by -shepherds and hunters, by thieves and children alike. The keeper kept -his beast beside him day and night, chiefly for fear of him being -poisoned. The dog growled when he saw the priest, but at a sign from -his master he was quiet and hung his head. - -The keeper stopped in front of the priest and gave a military salute, -then said solemnly: - -"I went early this morning to see the sick man. His temperature -is forty, his pulse a hundred and two. In my poor opinion he has -inflammation of the loins, and his granddaughter wanted me to give -him quinine." (The keeper had charge of the drugs and medicines -supplied for the parish and permitted himself to go round visiting -the sick, which was exceeding his duty, but gave him importance in -his own eyes, as he imagined he was thus taking the place of the -doctor who only came to the village twice a week.) "But I said, -'Gently, my girl; in my humble opinion he does not want quinine, -but another sort of medicine.' The girl began to cry, but she shed -no tears; may I die if I judged wrongly! She wanted me to rush off -immediately to call the doctor, but I said, 'The doctor is coming -to-morrow, Sunday, but if you are in such a hurry then send a man -yourself to fetch him! The sick man can well afford to pay a doctor -to see him die, he has spent no money during his life.' I was quite -right, wasn't I?" - -The keeper waited gravely for the priest's approval, but Paul was -looking at the dog, now quiet and docile at his master's bidding, and -he was thinking to himself: - -"If we could only thus keep our passions on a leash!" And then he -said aloud, but in an absent-minded way, "Oh yes, he can wait till -the doctor comes to-morrow. But he is seriously ill, all the same." - -"Well then, if he is seriously ill," persisted the keeper firmly and -not without contempt for the priest's apparent indifference, "a man -had better go for the doctor at once. The old fellow can pay, he is -not a pauper. But his granddaughter disobeyed my orders and did not -give him the medicine I myself prepared and left for him." - -"He should receive the Communion first of all," said Paul. - -"But you have told me that a sick person may receive the Communion -even if they are not fasting?" - -"Well then," said the priest, losing patience at last, "the old man -did not want the medicine; he clenched his teeth, and he has them all -still sound, and struck out as if nothing was the matter with him." - -"And then the granddaughter, in my humble opinion," continued the -keeper indignantly, "has no right to order me, an official, to rush -off for the doctor as though I were a servant! It was not a question -of an accident or anything requiring the doctor's official presence, -and I have other things to do. I must now go down to the river by the -ford, because I have received information that some benefactor of his -neighbours has placed dynamite in the water to destroy the trout. My -respects!" - -He repeated the military salute and departed, jerking his dog up by -the leash. Suddenly sharing its master's repressed contempt, the -animal stalked off waving its ferocious tail; it did not growl at the -priest, but merely turned its head to give him a parting glance of -menace out of its savage eyes. - -Having completed his preparations for carrying extreme unction to the -old man, Antiochus was leaning over the parapet of the piazza under -the shade of the elms, waiting for the priest; and when he saw him -approaching, the boy darted into the sacristy and waited with the -surplice in his hands. The pair were ready in a few minutes, Paul in -surplice and stole, carrying the silver amphora of oil, Antiochus -robed in red from head to foot and holding a brocade umbrella with -gold fringe open over Paul's head, so that he and his silver amphora -were in shadow whilst the boy himself appeared the more brilliant -in the sunshine in contrast to the black and white figure of the -priest. Antiochus's face wore a look of almost tragic gravity, for -he was much impressed with his own importance and imagined himself -specially deputed to protect the holy oil. Nevertheless this did not -prevent him from grinning with amusement at the sight of the old men -hurriedly shuffling down from the parapet as the little procession -passed, and the boys kneeling with their faces to the wall instead of -towards the priest. The youngsters jumped up immediately, however, -and followed Antiochus, who rang his bell before each door to warn -the people; dogs barked, the weavers stopped their looms and the -women thrust their heads out of the windows to see, and the whole -village was in a tremor of mysterious excitement. - -A woman who was coming from the fountain bearing a jug of water on -her head set down her jug upon the ground and knelt beside it. And -the priest grew pale, for he recognized one of Agnes's servants, and -a nameless dread seized upon him, so that unconsciously he clasped -the silver amphora tightly between his hands as though seeking there -support. - -The attendant crowd of boys grew larger as they approached the old -hunter's dwelling. This was a two-story cottage built of rough stone -and standing a little back from the road on the side towards the -valley; it had a single unglazed window and in front a small yard -of bare earth enclosed by a low wall. The door stood open and the -priest knew that the old man was lying fully dressed on a mat in the -lower room; so he entered at once, reciting the prayers for the sick, -whilst Antiochus closed the umbrella and rang his bell loudly to -drive away the children as if they were flies. But the room was empty -and the mat unoccupied; perhaps the old man had at last consented -to go to bed or had been carried there in a dying condition. The -priest pushed open the door of an inner room, but that too was empty; -so, puzzled, he returned to the door, whence he saw the old man's -granddaughter limping down the road with a bottle in her hand. She -had been to fetch the medicine. - -"Where is your grandfather?" asked Paul, as the girl crossed herself -on entering the house. She glanced at the empty mat and gave a -scream, and the inquisitive boys immediately swarmed over the wall -and round the door, engaging in a free fight with Antiochus, who -tried to oppose their entrance, till Paul himself sternly bade them -disperse. - -"Where is he? Where is he?" cried the granddaughter, running from -room to room, whereupon one of the boys, the last to join the crowd, -sauntered up with his hands in his pockets and inquired casually, -"Are you looking for the king? He went down there." - -"Down where?" - -"Down there," repeated the boy, pointing with his nose towards the -valley. - -The girl rushed down the steep path and the boys after her: the -priest signed to Antiochus to reopen the umbrella and gravely and in -silence the two returned to the church, whilst the villagers gathered -together in wondering groups and the news of the sick man's flight -spread from mouth to mouth. - - - - -Chapter 7 - - -Paul was back again in his quiet dining-room, seated at the table and -waited on by his mother. Fortunately there was now something they -dare talk about and the flight of King Nicodemus was being discussed. -Having hastily deposited the silver amphora and other things taken -out for the rite and doffed his red cope, Antiochus had run off to -collect news. The first time he came back it was with a strange -report; the old man had disappeared and his relations were said to -have carried him off in order to get possession of his money. - -"They say that his dog and his eagle came down and carried him off -themselves!" corrected some sceptic jestingly. - -"I don't believe in the dog," said one of the old men, "but the eagle -is no joke. I remember that when I was a boy, one carried off a -heavy sheep from our yard." - -Then Antiochus came back with the further news that the sick man had -been overtaken half-way up to the mountain plateau, where he wished -to die. The last upflickering of his fever lent him a fictitious -strength and the dying hunter walked like a somnambulist to the place -where he longed to be, and in order not to worry him and make him -worse, his relatives had accompanied him and seen him safely to his -own hut. - -"Now sit down and eat," said the priest to the boy. - -Antiochus obeyed and took his place at the table, but not without -first glancing inquiringly at the priest's mother. She smiled and -signed to him to do as he was bidden and the boy felt that he had -become one of the family. He could not know, innocent child, that -the other two, having exhausted the subject of the old hunter, were -afraid of being alone together. The mother would see her son's uneasy -wandering eyes arrested suddenly, as though upon some unseen object, -with a stony, sombre gaze, o'er-shadowed by the darkness of his mind, -and he in turn would start from his preoccupation, aware that she was -observing him and divining his inward grief. But when she had placed -the meal on the table she left the room and did not return. - -With the bright noonday the wind rose again, but now it was a soft -west wind that scarcely stirred the trees upon the ridge; the room -was flooded with sunshine chequered by the dancing of the leaves -outside the window, and white clouds drifted across the sky like -harp-strings whereon the wind played its gentle music. - -The charm was broken suddenly by a knock at the door and Antiochus -ran to open. A pale young widow with frightened eyes stood on the -threshold and asked to see the priest. By the hand she held fast a -little girl, with small, livid face and a red scarf tied over her -untidy black hair; and, as the child dragged and struggled from side -to side in her efforts to free herself, her eyes blazed like a wild -cat's. "She is ill," said the widow, "and I want the priest to read -the gospel over her to drive out the evil spirit that has taken -possession of her." - -Puzzled and scared, Antiochus stood holding the door half open: this -was not the time to worry the priest with such matters, and moreover -the girl, who was twisting herself all to one side and trying to bite -her mother's hand as she could not escape, was truly an object of -both fear and pity. - -"She is possessed, you see," said the widow, turning red with shame. -So then Antiochus let her in immediately and even helped her to push -in the child, who clung to the jamb of the door and resisted with all -her might. - -On hearing what was the matter and that this was already the third -day on which the little victim had behaved so strangely, always -trying to escape, deaf and dumb to all persuasions, the priest had -her brought in to him, and taking her by the shoulders he examined -her eyes and her mouth. - -"Has she been much in the sun?" he inquired. - -"It's not that," whispered the mother. "I think she is possessed by -an evil spirit. No," she added, sobbing, "my little girl is no longer -alone!" - -Paul rose to fetch his Testament from his room, then stopped and sent -Antiochus for it. The book was placed open on the table, and with his -hand upon the burning head of the child, clasped tightly in the arms -of her kneeling mother, he read aloud: - -"And they arrived at the country of the Gadarenes, which is over -against Galilee. And when he went forth to land, there met him out -of the city a certain man which had devils a long time, and ware no -clothes, neither abode in any house, but in the tombs. When he saw -Jesus he cried out and fell down before him, and with a loud voice -said, 'What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God most high? -I beseech thee, torment me not.'" - -Antiochus turned over the page of the book and his eyes strayed to -the priest's hand which rested on the table; at the words, "What have -I to do with thee," he saw the hand tremble, and looking up quickly -he perceived that Paul's eyes were full of tears. Then, overcome by -an irresistible emotion, the boy knelt down beside the widow, but -still keeping his arm stretched out to touch the book. And he thought -to himself: - -"Surely _he_ is the best man in all the world, for he weeps when he -reads the word of God!" And he did not venture to raise his eyes -again to look at Paul, but with his free hand he pulled the little -girl's skirt to keep her quiet, though not without a secret fear that -the demons who were being exorcised from her body would enter into -his own. - -The possessed child had ceased throwing herself about and stood up -straight and stiff, her thin brown neck stretched to its full length, -her little chin stuck forward over the knot of her kerchief and her -eyes fixed upon the priest's face. Gradually her expression changed, -her mouth relaxed and opened, and it seemed as if the words of the -Gospel, the murmuring of the wind and the rustle of the trees on the -ridge were working upon her as a charm. Suddenly she tore her skirt -from Antiochus's restraining hand and fell on her knees beside -him, and the priest's hand which had rested upon her head remained -outstretched above it, as his tremulous voice continued reading: - -"Now the man out of whom the devils were departed besought him that -he might be with him: but Jesus sent him away, saying, Return to -thine own house and show how great things God hath done unto thee...." - -He ceased reading and withdrew his hand. The child was now perfectly -quiet and had turned her face wonderingly towards the boy, and in -the silence that succeeded the Gospel words nothing was audible -save the trees rustling in the breeze and the faint tap-tap of the -stone-breaker by the roadside. - -Paul was suffering acutely. Not for one moment had he shared the -widow's superstition that the girl was possessed by a devil and he -felt, therefore, that he had been reading the Gospel without belief. -The only devil which existed was the one within himself, and this one -would not be driven forth. And yet there had been a moment when he -had felt nearer to God: "What have I to do with thee?" And it seemed -to him that those three believers in front of him, and his own mother -kneeling at the kitchen door, were bowed, not before his power, but -before his utter wretchedness. Yet when the widow bent low to kiss -his feet he drew back sharply: he thought of his mother, _who knew -all_, and feared lest she should misjudge him. - -The widow was so overwhelmed with mortification when she raised her -head that the two children began to laugh, and even Paul's distress -relaxed a little. - -"That's all right, get up now," he said, "the child is quiet." - -They all rose to their feet and Antiochus ran to open the door, at -which now somebody else was knocking. It was the keeper with his dog -on the leash, and Antiochus burst out instantly, his face beaming -with joy: - -"A miracle has just happened! He has driven out the devils from the -body of Nina Masia!" - -But the keeper did not believe in miracles; he stood a little away -from the door and said: - -"Then let us make room for them to escape!" - -"They will enter into the body of your dog," cried Antiochus. - -"They cannot enter because they are there already," replied the -keeper. He spoke in jest, but maintained his usual gravity. On the -threshold of the room he drew himself up and saluted the priest -without condescending even to glance at the women. - -"Can I speak to you in private, sir?" - -The women withdrew into the kitchen and Antiochus carried the -Testament upstairs. When he came down, although still full of -excitement at the miracle, he stopped to listen to what the keeper -was saying: - -"I beg your pardon for bringing this animal into the house, but he is -quite clean and he will give no trouble because he understands where -he is." (The dog, in fact, was standing motionless, with lowered -eyes and hanging tail.) "I've come about the matter of old Nicodemus -Pania, nicknamed King Nicodemus. He is back in his hut and has -expressed the wish to see you again and to receive extreme unction. -In my humble opinion...." - -"Good heavens!" exclaimed the priest impatiently, but the next -instant he was filled with childish joy at the thought of going up to -the mountain plateau and by physical exertion banishing for a time -the perplexities that tormented him. - -"Yes, yes," he added quickly, "and I shall want a horse. What is the -road like?" - -"I will see about the horse and the road," said the keeper, "that is -my duty." - -The priest offered him a drink. On principle the keeper never -accepted anything from anyone, not even a glass of wine, but on -this occasion he felt that his own civil functions and the priest's -religious functions were so much each a part of the other that he -accepted the invitation; so he drank, and emptied the last drops of -wine on the ground (since the earth claims her share of whatever man -consumes), and expressed his thanks with a military salute. Then the -great dog wagged his tail and looked up at Paul with an offer of -friendship in his eyes. - -Antiochus was ready to open the door again and then returned to the -dining-room to await orders. He was sorry for his mother, waiting -in vain for the priest in the little room behind the bar, which had -been specially cleaned up for the occasion and the tray with glasses -placed ready for the guest; but duty before all things and the visit -would obviously be impossible that day. - -"What must I prepare?" he asked, imitating the keeper's solemn tones. -"Shall we take the umbrella?" - -"What are you thinking of! I am going on horseback and you need not -come at all. I could take you up behind me, however." - -"No, I will walk, I am never tired," urged the boy, and in a few -minutes he was ready, with a little box in his hand and his red cope -folded over his arm. As far as he was concerned, he would have liked -to take the umbrella too, but he was obliged to obey superior orders. - -Whilst he was waiting for the priest in front of the church all the -ragged urchins who made of the square their regular playground and -battlefield gathered round him curiously without venturing too near, -and regarded the box with respect not unmixed with terror. - -"Let's go nearer," said one. - -"You keep your distance, or I'll let loose the keeper's dog at you!" -shouted Antiochus. - -"The keeper's dog? Why, you daren't go within ten miles of him!" -jeered the urchins. - -"Daren't I?" said Antiochus with magnificent scorn. - -"No, you daren't! And you think you're as good as the Lord himself -because you're carrying the holy oil!" - -"If I were you," advised one open-minded youth, "I should make off -with that box and perform all kinds of sorceries with the holy oil." - -"Be off, you horse-fly! The devil that came out of Nina Masia's body -has entered into yours!" - -"What's that? The devil?" cried the boys in chorus. - -"Yes," said Antiochus solemnly, "this very afternoon _he_ drove out a -devil from the body of Nina Masia. Here she comes." - -The widow, leading the little girl by the hand, was just coming out -of the presbytery; the boys all rushed to meet her and in one moment -the news of the miracle spread through the village. Then occurred a -scene which recalled that which had taken place on the first arrival -of the priest. The whole population assembled together in the square -and Nina Masia was placed by her mother on the top step before the -church door, where she sat, thin and brown-skinned, with her green -eyes and the red kerchief over her head, looking like some primitive -idol set up to be worshipped by those simple and credulous country -folk. - -The women began to weep and all wanted to touch the girl. Meanwhile -the keeper had arrived on the scene with his dog, and then the priest -crossed the square on horseback. The crowd immediately collected -round him and made a procession to follow him, but whilst he waved -his hand to them and turned from side to side acknowledging their -greetings, his annoyance at what had happened was even greater than -his distress. When he reached the top of the hill he reined in his -horse and seemed about to speak, then suddenly put spurs to the -animal and rode rapidly down the road. He had a desperate craving to -gallop furiously away, to escape through the valley and lose himself -and his whole being somewhere in that wide horizon spread out before -his gaze. - -The wind was freshening: the afternoon sun shone warmly on the -thickets and bushes, the river reflected the blue sky and the spray -thrown up by the mill-wheel sparkled like diamonds. The keeper with -his dog and Antiochus with his box descended the hill soberly, fully -conscious of their office, and presently Paul drew rein and rode -along quietly. After crossing the river the road became a mere path -and wound upwards towards the plateau, bordered by stones and low -walls, rocks and stunted trees, and the west wind blew sweet and -warm, heavy-laden with perfume, as though it had gathered all the -thyme flowers and wild roses it had found upon its way and was now -strewing them again upon the earth. - -The path wound ever upwards: when they turned round the side of the -hill and lost sight of the village, the world seemed nothing but wind -and stones, and white vapours that on the horizon linked earth and -sky in one. From time to time the dog barked, and the echo in the -hills seemed to bring him answers from other dogs all around. - -When they were half-way to their destination the priest offered to -take Antiochus up behind him on the horse, but the boy refused, and -only very unwillingly yielded up the box. And only then did he permit -himself to open a conversation with the keeper; a vain attempt, -however, for the keeper never forgot his own imaginary importance -for one moment. Every now and then he would stop, with a portentous -frown, and drawing the peak of his cap low over his eyes he would -inspect the landscape on every side, as though the whole world -belonged to him and were threatened with some imminent peril. Then -the dog would stop too, rigid on his four paws, snuffing the wind -and quivering from ears to tail. Luckily all was serene on that windy -afternoon, the only moving things in sight being the agile goats -climbing on distant rocks, black silhouettes against the blue sky and -rosy clouds. - -At last they came to a sort of declivity covered with masses of -granite, a regular waterfall of rocks balanced one upon another with -marvellous precision. Antiochus recognized the place, as he had once -been there with his father, and whilst the priest kept to the path, -which wound some considerable way round, and the keeper followed him -as in duty bound, the boy scrambled down from rock to rock and was -the first to reach the hut of the old hunter. - -The hut was a ramshackle erection of logs and boughs surrounded by -a partly natural enclosure of great boulders, against which the old -man, in order to complete this sort of prehistoric fortress, had -piled other stones in large numbers. The sun slanted down into this -enclosure as into a well: the view was completely shut in on three -sides, and only on the right, between two rocks, a silver streak in -the blue distance, might be discerned the sea. - -On hearing steps the old man's grandson thrust his curly black head -out of the hut door. - -"They are coming," announced Antiochus. - -"Who are coming?" - -"The priest and the keeper." - -The man sprang out, as agile and hairy as his own goats, and swore -roundly at the keeper for always interfering in other people's -business. - -"I'll break all his bones for him!" he growled threateningly, but -when he saw the dog he drew back, while the old man's dog ran forward -to sniff at and greet the visitor. - -Antiochus took charge of the box again and sat down on a stone -facing the opening in the rocks. All around were an immense number -of wild-boar-skins, striped black and grey, and of marten skins -flecked with gold, spread out on the rocks to dry. Inside the hut he -could see the form of the old man lying on a heap of other skins, -his dark face, framed in the white hair and beard, already set in -the composure of approaching death. The priest was bending down to -interrogate him, but the dying man made no reply, and lay with closed -eyes and a drop of blood trembling on his violet lips. A little -way off, on another stone, sat the keeper with his dog stretched -at his feet and his eyes also fixed on the interior of the hut. He -was indignant because the dying man was disobeying the law in not -declaring what was his last will and testament, and as Antiochus -turned his mischievous eyes in that direction he thought somewhat -maliciously that the keeper would have liked to set his dog on the -stubborn old hunter as on a thief. - - - - -Chapter 8 - - -Inside the hut the priest bent still lower, his hands clasped between -his knees, his face heavy with weariness and displeasure. He too -was silent now: he almost seemed to have forgotten why he was there -and sat listening to the wind as if it were the distant murmur of -the sea. Suddenly the keeper's dog sprang up barking, and Antiochus -heard the rustle of wings over his head: he looked up and saw the -old hunter's tame eagle alighting on a rock, with its great wings -outspread and slowly beating the air like an immense black fan. - -Inside the hut Paul was thinking to himself: - -"And this is death. This man fled from other men because he was -afraid of committing murder or some other great crime. And here he -lies now, a stone amongst stones. So shall I lie in thirty, forty -years, after an exile that has lasted through eternity. And perhaps -she will still be expecting me to-night...." - -He started up. Ah, no, he was not dead as he had thought: life was -beating within him, surging up strong and tenacious like the eagle -amongst the stones. - -"I must remain up here all night," he told himself. "If I can get -through this night without seeing her I shall be saved." - -He went outside and sat down beside Antiochus. The sun was sinking in -a crimson sky, the shadows of the high rocks were lengthening over -the enclosure and the wind-tossed bushes, and in the same way as he -could not distinguish objects clearly in the uncertain light without, -so Paul could not tell which of the two desires within him was the -strongest. Presently he said: - -"The old man cannot speak now, he is dying. It is time to administer -extreme unction, and if he dies we must arrange for the body to be -moved. It will be necessary ..." he added as though to himself, but -did not dare to complete the sentence, "it will be necessary to -spend the night here." - -Antiochus got up and began to make preparations for the ceremony. He -opened the box, pressing the silver fasteners with enjoyment, and -drew out the white cloth and the amphora of oil: then he unfolded his -red cope and put it on--he might have been himself the priest! When -everything was ready they went back into the hut, where the grandson, -on his knees, was supporting the dying man's head. Antiochus knelt -down on the other side, with the folds of his cope spread out on -the ground. He laid the white cloth over the stone that served as -a table, and the scarlet of his cope was reflected in the silver -amphora. The keeper, too, knelt down outside the hut, with his dog -beside him. - -Then the priest anointed the old man's forehead, and the palms of his -hands which had never sought to do violence to anyone, and his feet -which had borne him far from men as from evil itself. - -The setting sun shone direct into the hut with a last dazzling -splendour, lighting up Antiochus in his scarlet cope, so that between -the old man and the priest he looked like a live coal amongst dead -cinders. - -"I shall have to go back," thought Paul. "I have no excuse for -remaining here." Presently he went outside the hut and said: "There -is no hope, he is quite unconscious." - -"Comatose," said the keeper with precision. - -"He cannot live more than a few hours and arrangements must be made -for transporting the body down to the village," continued Paul; -and he longed to add, "And I must stay here all night," but he was -ashamed of his untruth. - -Moreover he was beginning now to feel the need of walking and a -craving to get back to the village. As night fell the thought of sin -began subtly to attract him again and drew him in with the invisible -net of darkness. He felt it and was afraid; but he kept guard over -himself, and he knew his conscience was awake and ready to uphold -him. - -"If only I could get through this one night without seeing her I -should be saved!" was his silent cry. If only some one would detain -him by force! If the old man would revive and hold him fast by the -hem of his robe! - -He sat down again and cast about for some excuse for delaying his -departure. The sun had now sunk below the edge of the high plateau, -and the trunks of the oaks stood out boldly against the red glow -of the sky like the pillars of some gigantic portico, surmounted -by an immense black roof. Not even the presence of death could mar -the peace of that majestic solitude. Paul was weary and, as in the -morning at the foot of the altar, he would have liked to lie down -upon the stones and fall asleep. - -Meanwhile the keeper had come to a decision on his own account. He -entered the hut and, kneeling down beside the dying man, whispered -something into his ear. The grandson looked on with suspicion and -contempt, then approached the priest and said: - -"Now that you have done your duty, depart in peace. I know what has -to be done now." - -At that moment the keeper came outside again. - -"He is past speaking," he said, "but he gave me to understand by a -sign that he has put all his affairs in order. Nicodemus Pania," -he added, turning towards the grandson, "can you assure us on your -conscience that we may leave here with quiet minds?" - -"Except for the holy sacrament of extreme unction, you need not -have come at all. What business have you to meddle in my affairs?" -answered the grandson truculently. - -"We must carry out the law! And don't raise your voice like that, -Nicodemus Pania!" retorted the keeper. - -"Enough, enough, no shouting," said the priest, pointing to the hut. - -"You are always teaching that there is only one duty in life, and -that is to do one's own duty," said the keeper sententiously. - -Paul sprang to his feet, struck by those words. Everything he heard -now seemed meant specially for him, and he thought God was making -known His will through the mouths of men. He mounted his horse and -said to the old man's grandson: - -"Stay with your grandfather until he is dead. God is great and we -never know what may happen." - -The man accompanied him part of the way, and when they were out of -earshot of the keeper he said: - -"Listen, sir. My grandfather did give his money into my charge; it's -here, inside my coat. It is not much, but whatever it is, it belongs -to me, doesn't it?" - -"If your grandfather gave it to you for yourself alone, then it -is yours," replied Paul, turning round to see if the others were -following. - -They were following. Antiochus was leaning on a stick he had -fashioned for himself out of the branch of a tree, and the keeper, -the glazed peak of his cap and the buttons of his tunic reflecting -the last rays of the evening light, had halted at the corner of the -path and was giving the military salute in the direction of the hut. -He was saluting death. And from his rocky perch the eagle answered -the salute with a last flap of his great wings before he too went to -sleep. - - * * * * * - -The shades of night crept rapidly up from the valley and soon -enveloped the three wayfarers. When they had crossed the river, -however, and had turned into the path that led up towards home, -their road was lit up by a distant glare that came from the village -itself. It looked as if the whole place were on fire; huge flames -were leaping on the summit of the ridge, and the keeper's keen sight -distinguished numerous figures moving about in the square in front -of the church. It was a Saturday, and nearly all the men would have -returned to their homes for the Sunday rest, but this did not explain -the reason for the bonfires and the unusual excitement in the village. - -"I know what it is!" called Antiochus joyfully. "They are waiting for -us to come back, and they are going to celebrate the miracle of Nina -Masia!" - -"Good heavens! Are you quite mad, Antiochus?" cried the priest, with -something akin to terror as he gazed at the hill-side below the -village, over which the bonfires were casting their lurid glare. - -The keeper made no remark, but in contemptuous silence he rattled the -dog's chain and the animal barked loudly. Whereupon hoarse shouts and -yells echoed through the valley, and to the priest in his misery it -seemed as though some mysterious voice were protesting against the -way in which he had imposed on the simplicity of his parishioners. - -"What have I done to them?" he asked himself. "I have made fools of -them just as I have made a fool of myself. May God save us all!" - -Suggestions for heroic action rushed into his mind. When he reached -the village he would stop in the midst of his people and confess his -sin; he would tear open his breast before them all and show them his -wretched heart, consumed with grief, but burning more fiercely with -the flame of his anguish than the fires of brushwood upon the ridge. - -But here the voice of his conscience spoke: - -"It is their faith that they are celebrating. They are glorifying God -in thee and thou hast no right to thrust thyself and thy wretchedness -between them and God." - -But from deeper still within him another voice made itself heard: - -"It is not that. It is because thou art base and vile and art afraid -of suffering, of burning in very truth." - -And the nearer they came to the village and the men, the more abased -did Paul feel. As the leaping flames fought with the shadows on the -hill-side so light and darkness seemed to fight in his conscience, -and he did not know what to do. He remembered his first arrival in -the village years ago, with his mother following him anxiously as she -had followed the first steps of his infancy. - -"And I have fallen in her sight," he groaned. "She thinks she has -raised me up again, but I am wounded to death." - -Then suddenly he bethought him, with a sense of relief, that this -improvised festival would help him out of his difficulty and avert -the danger he feared. - -"I will invite some of them to the presbytery to spend the evening, -and they are sure to stay late. If I can get through this night I -shall be safe." - -The black figures of the men leaning over the parapet of the square -could now be distinguished, and higher up, behind the church, the -flames of the bonfires were waving in the air like long red flags. -The bells were not ringing as on that former occasion, but the -melancholy sound of a concertina accompanied the general uproar. - -All at once from the top of the church tower there shot up a silver -star, which instantly broke into a thousand sparks with an explosion -that echoed through the valley. A shout of delight went up from the -crowd, followed by another brilliant shower of sparks and the noise -of shots being fired. They were letting off their guns in sign of -rejoicing, as they did on the nights of the great feasts. - -"They have gone mad," said the keeper, and he ran off at full speed -in advance, the dog barking fiercely as though there were some revolt -to be quelled up there. - -Antiochus, on the other hand, felt inclined to weep. He looked at the -priest sitting straight upright on his horse and thought he resembled -some saint carried in procession. Nevertheless, his reflections took -a practical turn: - -"My mother will do good business to-night with all these merry folk!" - -And he felt so happy that he unfolded the cope and threw it over his -shoulders. Then he wanted to carry the box again, though he would not -give up his new stick, and thus he entered the village looking like -one of the Three Kings. - -The old hunter's granddaughter called to the priest from her door and -asked for news of her grandfather. - -"All is well," said Paul. - -"Then grandfather is better, is he?" - -"Your grandfather is dead by this time." - -She gave a scream, and that was the only discordant note of the -festival. - -The boys had already gone down the hill to meet the priest; they -swarmed round his horse like a cloud of flies, and all went up -together to the church square. The people there were not so numerous -as they had looked from a distance, and the presence of the keeper -with his dog had infused some sort of order into the proceedings. -The men were ranged round the parapet underneath the trees and some -were drinking in front of the little wine-shop kept by the mother -of Antiochus: the women, their sleeping infants in their arms, were -sitting on the church steps, and in the midst of them sat Nina Masia, -as quiet now as a drowsy cat. - -In the centre of the square stood the keeper with his dog, as stiff -as a statue. - -On the arrival of the priest they all got up and gathered round -him; but the horse, secretly spurred by its rider, started forward -towards a street on the opposite side from the church, where was the -house of its master. Whereupon the master, who happened to be one of -the men drinking in front of the wine-shop, came forward glass in -hand and caught the animal by the bridle. - -"Heh, nag, what are you thinking of? Here I am!" - -The horse stopped immediately, nuzzling towards its master as if it -wanted to drink the wine in his glass. The priest made a movement to -dismount, but the man held him fast by one leg, while he led horse -and rider in front of the wine-shop, where he stretched out his glass -to a companion who was holding the bottle. - -The whole crowd, men and women, now formed a circle round the priest. -In the lighted doorway of the wine-shop, smiling at the scene, stood -the tall, gipsy-like figure of Antiochus's mother, her face almost -bronze-coloured in the reflection of the bonfires. The babies had -wakened up startled and were struggling in their mothers' arms, -the gold and coral amulets with which all, even the poorest, was -adorned, gleaming as they moved. And in the centre of this restless -throng, confused grey figures in the darkness, sat the priest high -upon his horse, in very truth like a shepherd in the midst of his -flock. - -A white-bearded old man placed his hand on Paul's knee and turned -towards the people: - -"Good folk," he said in a voice shaking with emotion, "this is truly -a man of God!" - -"Then drink to a good vintage!" cried the owner of the horse offering -the glass, which Paul accepted and immediately put to his lips; but -his teeth shook against the edge of the glass as though the red wine -glowing in the light of the fires were not wine, but blood. - - - - -Chapter 9 - - -Paul was seated again at his own table in the little dining-room, -lighted by an oil lamp. Behind the ridge, which looked a mountain as -seen from the presbytery window, the full moon was rising in the pale -sky. - -He had invited several of the villagers to come in and keep him -company, amongst them the old man with the white beard and the owner -of the horse, and they were still sitting there drinking and joking, -and telling hunting stories. The old man with the white beard, a -hunter himself, was criticizing King Nicodemus because, in his -opinion, the old recluse did not conduct his hunting according to the -law of God. - -"I don't want to speak ill of him in his last hour," he was saying; -"but to tell the truth, he went out hunting simply as a speculation. -Now last winter he must have made thousands of lire by marten skins -alone. God allows us to shoot animals, but not to exterminate them! -And he used to snare them, too, and that is forbidden, because -animals feel pain just as we do, and the hours they lie caught in the -snares must be terrible. Once I myself, with these very eyes, I saw -a snare where a hare had left her foot. Do you understand what that -means? The hare had been caught in the snare and had gnawed the flesh -away all round her foot, and had broken her leg off to get free. And -what did Nicodemus do with his money, after all? He hid it, and now -his grandson will drink it all in a few days." - -"Money is made to be spent," said the owner of the horse, a man much -given to boasting; "I myself, for instance, I have always spent -freely and enjoyed myself, without hurting anyone. Once at our -festival, having nothing else to do, I stopped a man who sold silk -reels and happened to be passing with a load of his goods; I bought -the whole lot, then I set them rolling about on the piazza and ran -after them, kicking them here and there and everywhere! In one -instant the whole crowd was after me, laughing and yelling, and the -boys and young men, and even some of the older men began to imitate -me. That was a game that's not forgotten yet! Every time the old -priest saw me he used to shout from ever so far: 'Hallo, Pasquale -Masia, haven't you any reels to set rolling to-day?'" - -All the guests laughed at the tale, only Paul seemed absent-minded -and looked pale and tired. The old man with the white beard, who was -observing him with reverent affection, winked at his companions to -suggest an immediate departure. It was time to leave the servant of -God to his holy solitude and well-merited repose. - -The guests rose from their seats all together and took respectful -leave of their host; and Paul found himself alone, between the -flickering flame of the oil lamp and the calm splendour of the moon -that shone in through the high window, while the sound of the heavy -iron-shod shoes of his departing guests echoed down the deserted -street. - -It was yet early to go to bed, and although he was utterly worn out -and his shoulders ached with fatigue, as though he had been bearing -a heavy yoke all the day, he had no thought of going up to his own -room. His mother was still in the kitchen: he could not see her from -where he sat, but he knew that she was watching as on _the previous -night_. - -The previous night! He felt as if he had been suddenly awakened out -of a long sleep, and the distress of his return home from the house -of Agnes, and his thoughts in the night, the letter, the Mass, the -journey up the mountain, the villagers' demonstration, had all been -only a dream. His real life was beginning again now: he had but to -take a step, a dozen steps, to open the door ... and go back to -her.... His real life was beginning again. - -"But perhaps she is not expecting me any longer. Perhaps she will -never expect me again!" - -Then he felt his knees trembling and terror took hold of him again, -not at the thought of going back to her, but at the thought that she -might have accepted her fate and be already beginning to forget him. - -Then he realized that in the depths of his heart the hardest thing to -bear since he came down from the mountain had been this--not knowing -anything about her, her silence, her vanishing out of his life. - -This was the veritable death, that she should cease to love him. - -He buried his face in his hands and tried to bring her image before -his mind's eye, then he began to reproach her for those things for -which she might justly have reproached him. - -"Agnes, you cannot forget your promises! How can you forget them? You -held my wrists in your two strong hands and said to me: 'We are bound -to each other for ever, in life and in death.' Is it possible that -you can forget? You said, you know...." - -His fingers gripped at his collar, for he was suffocating with his -distress. - -"The devil has caught me in his snare," he thought, and remembered -the hare who had gnawed off her own foot. - -He drew a deep breath, rose from his chair, and took up the lamp. He -determined to conquer his will, to gnaw his own flesh also if thereby -he could only free himself. Now he decided to go up to his room, -but as he moved towards the hall he saw his mother sitting in her -accustomed place in the silent kitchen, and beside her was Antiochus -fast asleep. He went to the door: - -"Why is that boy still here?" he asked. - -His mother looked at him hesitatingly: she would have preferred not -to answer, but to have hidden Antiochus behind her wide skirts in -order that Paul should not wait up any longer, but go to his room -and to bed. Her faith in him was now completely restored, but she -too thought of the devil and his snares. At this moment, however, -Antiochus woke up and remembered very well why he was still waiting -there, in spite of the fact that the woman had several times asked -him to go. - -"I was waiting here because my mother is expecting a visit from you," -he explained. - -"But is this a time of night to go paying visits?" protested the -priest's mother. "Come now, be off with you, and tell her that Paul -is tired and will go and see her to-morrow." - -She spoke to the boy, but she was looking at her son: she saw his -glassy eyes fixed upon the lamp, but his eyelids quivered like the -wings of a moth in a candle. - -Antiochus got up with an expression of deep disappointment. - -"But my mother is expecting him; she thinks it's something important." - -"If it was anything important he would go and tell her at once. Come, -be off with you!" - -She spoke sharply, and as Paul looked at her his eyes lit up again -with quick resentment: he saw that his mother was afraid lest he -should go out again, and the knowledge filled him with unreasoning -anger. He banged the lamp down on the table again and called to -Antiochus: - -"We will go and see your mother." - -In the hall, however, he turned and added: - -"I shall be back directly, mother; don't fasten the door." - -She had not moved from where she sat, but when the two had left the -house she went to peep through the half-open door and saw them cross -the moonlit square and enter the wine-shop, which was still lighted -up. Then she went back to the kitchen and began her vigil as on the -previous night. - -She marvelled at herself to find that she was no longer afraid of the -old priest reappearing; it had all been a dream. At the bottom of her -heart, however, she did not feel at all certain that the ghost would -not come back and demand his mended socks. - -"I have mended them all right," she said aloud, thinking of those she -had mended for her son. And she felt that even if the ghost did come -back she would be able to hold her own with him and keep on friendly -terms. - -Complete silence reigned all round. Outside the window the trees -shone silver in the bright moonlight, the sky was like a milky sea, -and the perfume of the aromatic shrubs penetrated even into the -house. And the mother herself was tranquil now, though she hardly -knew why, seeing that Paul might yet fall again into sin; but she no -longer felt the same terror of it. She saw again in her mind's eye -the lashes trembling on his cheeks, like those of a child about to -cry, and her mother's heart melted with tenderness and pity. - -"And why, oh Lord, why, why?" - -She dared not complete her question, but it remained at the bottom -of her heart like a stone at the bottom of a well. Why, oh Lord, was -Paul forbidden to love a woman? Love was lawful for all, even for -servants and herdsmen, even for the blind and for convicts in prison; -so why should Paul, her child, be the only one to whom love was -forbidden? - -Then again the consciousness of reality forced itself on her. She -remembered the words of Antiochus, and was ashamed of being less wise -than a boy. - -"They themselves, the youngest amongst the priests, asked permission -to live chaste and free, apart from women." - -Moreover, her Paul was a strong man, in no wise inferior to his -ancient predecessors. He would never give way to tears; his eyelids -would close over eyes dry as those of the dead, for he was a strong -man. - -"I am growing childish!" she sobbed. - -She felt as if she had grown twenty years older in that one long day -of wearing emotions: each hour that passed had added to the burden -she bore, each minute had struck a blow upon her soul as the hammer -of the stone-breaker struck upon the heaps of broken rock there -behind the ridge. So many things now seemed clear to her, different -from on the previous day. The figure of Agnes came before her, with -the proud look that concealed all she really felt. - -"She is strong too," thought the mother; "she will hide everything." - -Then slowly she rose from her chair and began to cover the fire with -ashes, banking it up carefully so that no sparks could fly out and -set fire to anything near: then she shut the house door, for she -knew Paul always carried a key with him. She stamped about loudly, -as though he could hear her across the square, and believe her firm -footsteps to be an outward sign of her inward assurance. - -She felt, however, that this assurance was not so very firm after -all. But then what is really firm in this life? Neither the base of -the mountains nor the foundations of the churches, for an earthquake -may overthrow them both. Thus she felt sure of Paul for the future, -and sure of herself, but always with an underlying dread of the -unknown which might chance to supervene. And when she reached her -bedroom she dropped wearily into a chair, wondering whether it would -not have been better after all to leave the front door open. - -Then she got up and began to untie her apron string; but it had -twisted into a knot over which she lost patience at last, and went to -fetch a pair of scissors from her work-basket. She found the kitten -curled up asleep inside the basket, and the scissors and reels were -all warm from contact with its tiny body; and somehow the touch of -the living thing made her repent of her impatience, and she went -back to the lamp, and drawing the knot in front of her she succeeded -at last in untying it. With a sigh of relief she slowly undressed, -carefully folding her garments one by one on the chair, first, -however, taking the keys out of her apron pocket and laying them in -a row on the table like a respectable family all asleep. Thus her -masters had taught her in her youth to cultivate order and tidiness, -and she still obeyed the old instructions. - -She sat down again, half undressed, her short chemise displaying thin -brown legs that might have been made of wood, and she yawned with -weariness and resignation. No, she would not go downstairs again; her -son should come home and find the door closed, and see from that fact -that his mother had full confidence in him. That was the right way -to manage him, show that you trusted him absolutely. Nevertheless, -she was on the alert, and listened for the least sound; not in the -same way as on the previous night, but still she listened. She drew -off her shoes and placed them side by side, like two sisters who must -keep each other company even during the night, and went on murmuring -her prayers and yawning, yawning with weariness and resignation, and -with sheer nervousness, too. - -Whatever could Paul have to say to Antiochus's mother? The woman -had by no means a good reputation, she lent money on usury and was -commonly supposed to be a procuress too. No, Paul's mother could not -understand it. Then she blew out the candle, snuffed the smoking wick -with her fingers and got into bed, but could not bring herself to lie -down. - -Presently she thought she heard a step in her room. Was it the ghost -come back? She was filled with a horrible fear lest he should come up -to the bed and take hold of her; for a moment her blood froze in her -veins, then surged to her heart as a people in tumult rushes through -the streets of its city to the principal square. Then she recovered -herself and was ashamed of her fear, only caused, she was sure, by -the wicked doubts she had entertained of her Paul. - -No, those doubts were all ended: never again would she inquire into -the very smallest of his actions; it was her place to keep quietly -in the background, as she was now, in her little room fit only for -a servant. She lay down and drew the bedclothes over her, covering -her ears, too, so that she might not hear whether Paul came home or -not; but in her inner consciousness she _felt_ all the same, she felt -that he was not coming home, that he had been carried off by some one -against his will, as one drawn reluctantly into a dance. - -Nevertheless she felt quite sure of him; sooner or later he would -manage to escape and come home. Anyhow, she was resting quietly -under the bedclothes, though not yet asleep, and she had a confused -impression that she was still trying to undo the knot in her apron -string. Then the faint buzzing in her ears beneath the coverlet -turned gradually into the murmuring of the crowd in the square -beneath her window, and farther off still the murmuring of a people -who lamented, and yet whilst lamenting laughed and danced and sang. -Her Paul was there in the midst of them, and above them all in some -high, far place, a lute was being softly played. Perhaps it was God -Himself playing to the dance of men. - - - - -Chapter 10 - - -All day long Antiochus's mother had been speculating as to what could -be the object of the priest's visit, for which her boy had prepared -her, but she took good care not to betray by her manner that she -was expecting him. Perhaps he intended making a few remarks on the -subject of usury, and certain other trades which she practised; or -because she was in the habit of lending out--for purely medical -purposes, but always for a small fee--certain very ancient relics -which she had inherited from her husband's family. Or perhaps he -wanted to borrow money, either for himself or some one else. Whatever -it might prove to be, as soon as the last customer had departed she -went to the door and stood there with her hands in her pockets, heavy -with copper coins, looking out to see whether Antiochus at least -were not in sight. - -Then immediately she pretended to be busied with shutting the door, -and in fact she did shut the lower half, bending down to fasten the -bolt. She was active in her movements, although tall and stout; but, -contrary to the other women of the place, she had a small head, which -only looked large because of the great mass of black plaits that -encircled it. - -As the priest approached she drew herself up and bade him good -evening with much dignity, though her black eyes looked straight -into his with an ardent, languorous gaze. Then she invited him -to take a seat in the room behind the wine-shop, and Antiochus's -wistful eyes begged her to press the invitation. But the priest said -good-humouredly: - -"No, let us stay here," and he sat down at one of the long, -wine-stained tables that furnished the little tavern, whilst -Antiochus, resigned to the inevitable, stood beside him, casting -anxious glances round, however, to see if everything was in order -and fearful lest any belated customer should come in to disturb the -conference. - -Nobody came and everything was in order. The big petroleum lamp threw -an immense shadow of his mother on the wall behind the little bar, -covered with shelves filled with bottles of red, yellow and green -liqueurs, the light falling crudely on the small black casks ranged -along the opposite side of the shop. There was no other furniture -except the long table at which sat the priest, and another smaller -one, and over the door hung a bunch of broom which served the double -purpose of informing passers-by that this was the door of a wine-shop -and of attracting flies away from the glasses. - -Antiochus had been waiting for this moment during the whole of the -day, with the feeling that some mystery would then be revealed. He -was afraid of some intruder coming in, or that his mother would not -behave as she should. He would have liked her to be more humble, more -docile in the presence of the priest; but instead of that she had -taken her seat again behind the bar, and sat there as composedly as -a queen on her throne. She did not even appear to realize that the -man seated at the tavern table like an ordinary customer was a saint -who worked miracles, and she was not even grateful for the large -quantity of wine which he had been the indirect means of her selling -that day! - -At last, however, Paul opened the conversation. - -"I should have liked to see your husband as well," he began, resting -his elbows on the table and placing his finger-tips together, "but -Antiochus tells me that he will not be back until Sunday week." - -The woman merely nodded in assent. - -"Yes, on Sunday week, but I can go and fetch him, if you like," broke -in Antiochus, with an eagerness of which neither of the others took -the least notice. - -"It is about the boy," continued Paul. "The time has come when you -must really consider in earnest what you are going to do with him. He -is growing big now and you must either teach him a trade or, if you -want to make a priest of him, you must think very seriously of the -responsibility you are undertaking." - -Antiochus opened his lips, but as his mother began to speak he -listened to her silently, though with a shade of disapproval on his -anxious young face. - -The woman seized the occasion, as she always did, to sound the -praises of her husband, also to excuse herself for having married a -man much older than herself: - -"My Martin, as your Reverence knows, is the most conscientious man -in the world; he is a good husband and a good father and a better -workman than anyone else. Who is there in the whole village who -works as hard as he does? Tell me that, your Reverence, you who know -what sort of a character the village has got through the idleness of -its inhabitants! I say, then, that if Antiochus wants to choose a -trade, he has only to follow his father's; that is the best trade for -him. The boy is free to do as he likes, and even if he wants to do -nothing (I don't say it for vanity), he will be able to live without -turning thief, thank God! But if he wants a trade different from -his father's, then he must choose for himself. If he wants to be a -charcoal-burner, let him be a charcoal-burner; if he wants to be a -carpenter, let him be a carpenter; if he wants to be a labourer, let -him be a labourer." - -"I want to be a priest!" said the boy with quivering lips and eager -eyes. - -"Very well then, be a priest," replied his mother. - -And thus his fate was decided. - -Paul let his hands fall upon the table and gazed slowly round him. -Quite suddenly he felt it was ridiculous that he should thus interest -himself in other people's business. How could he possibly solve -the problem of the future for Antiochus when he could not succeed -in solving it for himself? The boy stood before him in ardent -expectation, like a piece of red-hot iron awaiting the stroke of the -hammer to mould it into shape, and every word had the power to either -make or mar him. Paul's gaze rested on him with something akin to -envy, and in the depths of his conscience he applauded the mother's -action in leaving her son free to follow his own instincts. - -"Instinct never leads us wrong," he said aloud, following his own -train of thought. "But now, Antiochus, tell me in your mother's -presence the reason why you wish to be a priest. Being a priest is -not a trade, you know; it is not like being a charcoal-burner or a -carpenter. You think now that it is a very easy, comfortable kind of -life, but later on you will find that it is very difficult. The joys -and pleasures allowed to all other men are forbidden to us, and if we -truly desire to serve the Lord our life is one continuous sacrifice." - -"I know that," replied the boy very simply. "I desire to serve the -Lord." - -He looked at his mother then, because he was a little ashamed of -betraying all his enthusiasm before her, but she sat behind the bar -as calmly and coldly as when she was merely serving customers. So -Antiochus went on: - -"Both my father and mother are willing for me to become a priest; -why should they object? I am very careless sometimes, but that is -because I am still only a boy, and in future I mean to be much more -serious and attentive." - -"That is not the question, Antiochus; you are too serious and -attentive already!" said Paul. "At your age you should be heedless -and merry. Learn and prepare yourself for life, certainly, but be a -boy too." - -"And am I not a boy?" protested Antiochus; "I do play, only you don't -happen to see me just when I am playing! Besides, why should I play -if I don't feel inclined? I have lots of amusements: I enjoy ringing -the church bells and I feel as if I was a bird up in the tower. And -haven't I had an amusing time to-day? I enjoyed carrying the box and -climbing up ever so high amongst the rocks, and I got there before -you, although you were riding! I enjoyed coming home again ... and -to-day I enjoyed ... I was happy," and the boy's eyes sought the -ground as he added, "when you drove the devils out of the body of -Nina Masia." - -"You believed in that?" asked the priest in a low voice, and -immediately he saw the boy's eyes look upward, so glorious with the -light of faith and wonder that instinctively he lowered his own to -hide the dark shadow that rested on his soul. - -"Only, when we are children we think in one way and everything looks -great and beautiful to us," continued Paul, much disturbed, "but -when we are grown up things look different. One must reflect very -carefully before undertaking anything important so that one may not -come to repent afterwards." - -"I shall not repent, I'm sure," said the boy with decision. "Have you -repented? No, and neither shall I repent." - -Paul lifted up his eyes: again he felt that he held in his hands the -soul of this child, to mould it like wax, and that a few careless -touches might deform it for ever. And again he feared and was silent. - -All this time the woman behind the bar had listened quietly, but now -the priest's words began to cause her a certain uneasiness. She -opened a drawer in front of her, wherein she kept her money, and -the cornelian rings and the brooches and mother-of-pearl ornaments -pledged by the village women in return for small loans; and evil -thoughts flashed through the darkest recesses of her mind, like those -forlorn trinkets at the bottom of her drawer. - -"The priest is afraid that Antiochus will turn him out of his parish -some time or other," she was thinking, "or else he is in need of -money and is working off his bad temper first. Now he'll be asking -for a loan." - -She closed the drawer softly and resumed her tranquil demeanour. She -always sat there in silence and never took part in the discussions -between her customers, even though invited to give her opinion, -especially if they were playing cards. Thus she left her little -Antiochus to face his adversary by himself. - -"How is it possible not to believe?" said the boy, between awe and -excitement. "Nina Masia was possessed, wasn't she? Why, I myself felt -the devil inside her shaking her like a wolf in a cage. And it was -nothing but the words of the Gospel spoken by you that set her free!" - -"That is true, the Word of God can achieve all things," admitted the -priest. Then suddenly he rose from his seat. - -Was he going? Antiochus gazed at him in consternation. - -"Are you going?" he murmured. - -Was this the famous visit? He ran to the bar and made a desperate -sign to his mother, who turned round and took down a bottle from the -shelves. She was disappointed too, for she had hoped for a chance -of lending money to the parish priest, even at a very low interest, -thereby in some way legitimizing her usury in the sight of God. But -instead of that, he had simply come to inform Antiochus that being a -priest was not the same thing as being a carpenter! However, she must -do him honour, in any case. - -"But your Reverence is not going away like that! Accept something to -drink, at least; this wine is very old." - -Antiochus was already holding the tray with a glass goblet upon it. - -"Then only a little," said Paul. - -Leaning across the bar, the woman poured out the wine, careful not -to spill a drop. Paul raised his glass, within which the ruby liquid -exhaled a perfume like a dusky rose, and after first making Antiochus -taste it, he put it to his own lips: - -"Then let us drink to the future parish priest of Aar!" he said. - -Antiochus was obliged to lean against the bar, for his knees gave -way under him; that was the happiest moment of his life. The woman -had turned round to replace the precious bottle on the shelf, and, -absorbed in his joy, the lad did not notice that the priest had gone -deathly pale and was staring out of the doorway as though he beheld a -ghost. - -A dark figure was running silently across the square, came to the -wine-shop door, looked round the interior with wide-open black eyes, -and then entered, panting. - -It was one of Agnes's servants. - -The priest instinctively withdrew to the far end of the tavern, -trying to hide himself, then came forward again on a sudden impulse. -He felt as if he were revolving round and round like a top, then -pulled himself together and remembered that he was not alone and -must be careful not to excite remark. So he stood still. But he had -no desire to hear what the servant was telling the woman, listening -eagerly behind the bar, his only desire was flight and safety; his -heart had stopped beating, and all the blood in his body had rushed -to his head and was roaring in his ears. Nevertheless the servant's -words penetrated to the utmost depths of his soul. - -"She fell down," said the girl breathlessly, "and the blood poured -from her nose in a stream, such a stream that we thought she had -broken something inside her head! And she's bleeding still! Give me -the keys of St. Mary of Egypt, for that is the only thing that can -stop it." - -Antiochus, who stood listening with the tray and glass still in his -hands, ran to fetch the keys of an old church, now demolished, which -keys when actually laid on the shoulders of anyone suffering from -hćmorrhage of the nose did to some extent arrest the flow of blood. - -"All this is just pretence," thought Paul, "there is no truth -whatever in the tale. She sent her servant to spy on me and endeavour -to lure me to her house, and they are probably in league with this -worthless woman here." - -And yet deep, deep within him the agitation grew till all his being -was in a tumult. Ah no, the servant was not lying; Agnes was too -proud to confide in anyone, and least of all in her servants. Agnes -was really ill, and with his inward eye he saw her sweet face all -stained with blood. And it was he himself who had struck her the -blow. "We thought she had broken something inside her head." - -He saw the shifty eyes of the woman behind the bar glance swiftly in -his direction, with obvious surprise at his apparent indifference. - -"But how did it happen?" he then asked the servant, but coolly and -calmly, as though seeking to conceal his anxiety even from himself. - -The girl turned and confronted him, her dark, hard, pointed face -thrust out towards him like a rock against which he feared to strike. - -"I was not at home when she fell. It happened this morning whilst I -was at the fountain, and when I got back I found her very ill. She -had fallen over the doorstep and blood was flowing from her nose, but -I think she was more frightened than hurt. Then the blood stopped, -but she was very pale all day and refused to eat. Then this evening -her nose began to bleed again, and not only that, but she had a sort -of convulsions, and when I left her just now she was lying cold and -stiff, with blood still flowing. I am very nervous," added the girl, -taking the keys which Antiochus handed to her and wrapping them in -her apron, "and we are only women in the house." - -She moved towards the door, but kept her black eyes on Paul as though -seeking to draw him after her by the sheer power of her gaze, and the -woman seated behind the bar said in her cold voice: - -"Why does not your Reverence go and see her?" - -He wrung his hands unconsciously and stammered: "I hardly know ... it -is too late...." - -"Yes, come, come!" urged the servant. "My little mistress will be -very glad, and it will give her courage to see you." - -"It is the devil speaking by your mouth," thought Paul, but -unconsciously he followed the girl. He had gripped Antiochus by the -shoulder and was drawing him along as a support, and the boy went -with him like a plank of safety upon the waves. So they crossed the -square and went as far as the presbytery, the servant running on -ahead, but turning every few steps to look back at them, the whites -of her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Seen thus at night, the -black figure with the dark and mask-like face had truly something -diabolical about it, and Paul followed it with a vague sense of fear, -leaning on Antiochus's shoulder as he walked and feeling like Tobit -in his blindness. - -On passing the presbytery door the boy tried to open it, and then -Paul perceived that his mother had locked it. He stopped short and -disengaged himself from his companion. - -"My mother has locked up because she knew in advance that I should -not keep my word," he thought to himself; then said to the boy: -"Antiochus, you must go home at once." - -The servant had stopped also, then went on a few steps, then stopped -again and saw the boy returning towards his own home and the priest -inserting his key in his door; then she went back to him: - -"I am not coming," he said, turning almost threateningly to confront -her, and looking her straight in the face as though trying to -recognize her true nature through her outward mask; "if you should -absolutely need me, you understand--only if you do absolutely need -me--you can come back and fetch me." - -She went away without another word, and he stood there before his -own door, with his hand on the key as though it had refused to turn -in the lock. He could not bring himself to enter, it was beyond -his power; neither could he go forward in that other path he had -begun to tread. He felt as if he were doomed to stand there for all -eternity, before a closed door of which he held the key. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile Antiochus had reached home. His mother locked the door -and he went to wash up the glasses and put them away; and the first -glass he washed in the clean water was the one from which _he_ had -drunk. The boy dried it very carefully with a white cloth, which he -passed round and round inside with his thumb; then he held it up to -the flame of the lamp and examined it with one eye, keeping the other -screwed up, which had the effect of making the glass shine like a big -diamond. Then he hid it away in a secret cupboard of his own with as -much reverence as if it had been the chalice of the Mass. - - - - -Chapter 11 - - -Paul had gone home too, and was feeling his way upstairs in the dark: -he dimly remembered going up some stairs in the dark like this when -he was a boy, but he could not remember where it had been. Now, as -then, he had the feeling that there was some danger near him which -he could only escape by strict attention to what he was doing. He -reached the landing, he stood before his own door, he was safe. But -he hesitated an instant before opening it, then crossed over and -tapped lightly with the knuckle of his forefinger at his mother's -door and entered without waiting for a reply. - -"It is I," he said brusquely; "don't light the candle, I have -something to tell you." - -He heard her turning round in her bed, the straw mattress creaking -under her: but he could not see her, he did not want to see her; -their two souls must speak together in the darkness as though they -had already passed to the world beyond. - -"Is it you, Paul? I was dreaming," she said in a sleepy yet -frightened voice; "I thought I heard dancing, some one playing on the -flute." - -"Mother, listen," he said, paying no attention to her words. "That -woman, Agnes, is ill. She has been ill since this morning. She had a -fall; it seems she hurt her head and is bleeding from her nose." - -"You don't mean it, Paul? Is she in danger?" - -In the darkness her voice sounded alarmed, yet at the same time -incredulous. He went on, repeating the breathless words of the -servant: - -"It happened this morning, after she got the letter. All day long she -was pale and refused to eat, and this evening she grew worse and fell -into convulsions." - -He knew that he was exaggerating, and stopped: his mother did not -speak. For a moment in the silence and the night there was a -deathlike tension, as though two enemies were seeking each other in -the darkness and seeking in vain. Then the straw mattress creaked -again; his mother must have raised herself to a sitting position in -the high bed, because her clear voice now seemed to come from above. - -"Paul, who told you all this? Perhaps it is not true." - -Again he felt that it was his conscience speaking to him through her, -but he answered at once: - -"It may be true. But that is not the question, mother. It is that -I fear she may commit some folly. She is alone in the hands of -servants, and I must see her." - -"Paul!" - -"I must," he repeated, raising his voice almost to a shout; but it -was himself he was trying to convince, not his mother. - -"Paul, you promised!" - -"I know I promised, and for that very reason I have come to tell you -before I go. I tell you that it is necessary that I should go to -her; my conscience bids me go." - -"Tell me one thing, Paul: are you sure you saw the servant? -Temptation plays evil tricks on us and the devil has many disguises." - -He did not quite understand her. - -"You think I am telling a lie? I saw the servant." - -"Listen--last night I saw the old priest, and I thought I heard his -footsteps again just now. Last night," she went on in a low voice, -"he sat beside me before the fire. I actually saw him, I tell you: -he had not shaved, and the few teeth he had left were black from -too much smoking. And he had holes in his stockings. And he said, -'I am alive and I am here, and very soon I shall turn you and your -son out of the presbytery.' And he said I ought to have taught you -your father's trade if I did not wish you to fall into sin. He so -upset my mind, Paul, that I don't know whether I have acted rightly -or wrongly! But I am absolutely sure that it was the devil sitting -beside me last night, the spirit of evil. The servant you saw might -have been temptation in another shape." - -He smiled in the darkness. Nevertheless, when he thought of the -fantastic figure of the servant running across the meadow, he felt a -vague sense of terror in spite of himself. - -"If you go there," continued his mother's voice, "are you certain you -will not fall again? Even if you really saw the servant and if that -woman is really ill, are you sure not to fall?" - -She broke off suddenly; she seemed to see his pale face through -the darkness, and she was filled with pity for him. Why should she -forbid him to go to the woman? Supposing Agnes really died of grief? -Supposing Paul died of grief? And she was as wracked with uncertainty -as he had been in the case of Antiochus. - -"Lord," she sighed; then she remembered that she had already -placed herself in the hands of God, Who alone can solve all our -difficulties. She felt a sort of relief, as if she had really settled -the problem. And had she not settled it by entrusting it in the hands -of God? - -She lay back on her pillow and her voice came again nearer to her son. - -"If your conscience bids you go, why did you not go at once instead -of coming in here?" - -"Because I promised. And you threatened to leave me if I went back to -that house. I swore...." he said with infinite sadness. And he longed -to cry out, "Mother, force me to keep my oath!" but the words would -not come. And then she spoke again: - -"Then go: do whatever your conscience bids you." - -"Do not be anxious," he said, coming close up to the bed; and he -stood there motionless for a few minutes and both were silent. He had -a confused impression that he was standing before an altar with his -mother lying upon it like some mysterious idol, and he remembered -how, when he was a boy in the Seminary, he was always obliged to go -and kiss her hand after he had been to confession. And something of -the same repugnance and the same exaltation moved him now. He felt -that if he had been alone, without her, he would have gone back to -Agnes long since, worn out by that endless day of flight and strife; -but his mother held him in check, and he did not know whether he was -grateful to her or not. - -"Do not be anxious!" Yet all the time he longed and feared that she -would say more to him, or that she would light the lamp and, looking -into his eyes, read all his thoughts and forbid him to go. But she -said nothing. Then the mattress creaked again as she stretched -herself in the bed. - -And he went out. - -He reflected that after all he was not a scoundrel: he was not going -with any bad motive or moved by passion, but because he honestly -thought that there might be some danger he could avert, and the -responsibility for this danger rested upon him. He recalled the -fantastic figure of the servant running across the moonlit grass, and -turning back to look at him with bright eyes as she said: - -"My little mistress will take courage if only you will come." - -And all his efforts to break away from her appeared now base and -stupid: his duty was to have gone to her at once and given her -courage. And as he crossed the meadow, silvery in the moonlight, he -felt relieved, almost happy, he was like a moth attracted by the -light. And he mistook the joy he felt at the prospect of seeing Agnes -again in a few moments for the satisfaction of doing his duty in -going to save her. All the sweet scent of the grass, all the tender -radiance of the moon bathed and purified his soul, and the healing -dew fell upon it even through his clothes of deathlike black. - -Agnes, little mistress! In truth, she was little, weak as a child, -and she was all alone, without father or mother, living in that -labyrinth of stone, her dark house under the ridge. And he had taken -advantage of her, had caught her in his hand like a bird from the -nest, gripping her till the blood seemed driven from her body. - -He hurried on. No, he was not a bad man, but as he reached the bottom -of the steps that led up to the door he stumbled, and it was sharply -borne in upon him that even the stones of her threshold repulsed -him. Then he mounted softly, hesitatingly, raised the knocker and let -it fall. They were a long time coming to answer the door, and he felt -humiliated standing there, but for nothing in the world would he have -knocked a second time. At last the fanlight over the door was lit up -and the dark-faced maid let him in, showing him at once into the room -he knew so well. - -Everything was just as it had been on other nights, when Agnes had -admitted him secretly by way of the orchard; the little door stood -ajar, and through the narrow opening he could smell the fragrance -of the bushes in the night air. The glass eyes in the stuffed heads -of stags and deer on the walls shone in the steady glow of the big -lamp, as though taking careful note of all that happened in the room. -Contrary to custom, the door leading to the inner rooms stood wide -open; the servant had gone through there and the board flooring could -be heard creaking under her heavy step. After a moment a door banged -violently as though blown by a gust of wind, making the whole house -shake, and he started involuntarily when immediately afterwards he -beheld Agnes emerge from the darkness of the inner rooms, with white -face and distorted hair floating in black wisps across it, like the -phantom of a drowned woman. Then the little figure came forward into -the lamplight and he almost sobbed with relief. - -She closed the door behind her and leaned against it with bowed head. -She faltered as though about to fall, and Paul ran to her, holding -out his hands, but not daring to touch her. - -"How are you?" he asked in a low voice, as he had asked at former -meetings. But she did not answer, only stood trembling all over her -body, her hands pressed against the door behind her for support. -"Agnes," he continued after a moment's tense silence, "we must be -brave." - -But as on that day when he had read the Gospel words over the -frenzied girl, he knew that his voice rang false, and his eyes sought -the ground as Agnes raised hers, bewildered, yes, but full of mingled -scorn and joy. - -"Then why have you come?" - -"I heard that you were ill." - -She drew herself up proudly and pushed back the hair from her face. - -"I am quite well and I did not send for you." - -"I know that, but I came all the same--there was no reason why I -should not come. I am glad to find that your maid exaggerated, and -that you are all right." - -"No," she repeated, interrupting him, "I did not send for you and you -ought not to have come. But since you are here, since you are here, I -want to ask you--why you did it ... why?--why?" - -Her words were broken by sobs and her hands sought blindly for -support, so that Paul was afraid, and repented that he had come. He -took her hands and led her to the couch where they had sat together -on other evenings, placing her in the corner where the weight of -other women of the family had worn a sort of niche, and seated -himself beside her, but he let go her hands. - -He was afraid of touching her; she was like a statue which he had -broken and put together again, and which sat there apparently whole -but ready to fall in pieces again at the slightest movement. So he -was afraid of touching her, and he thought to himself: - -"It is better so, I shall be safe," but in his heart he knew that at -any moment he might be lost again, and for that reason he was afraid -of touching her. Looking closely at her beneath the lamplight, he -perceived that she was changed. Her mouth was half-open, her lips -discoloured and greyish like faded rose-leaves; the oval of her face -seemed to have grown longer and her cheekbones stood out sharply -beneath eyes sunk deep in their livid sockets. Grief had aged her by -twenty years in a single day, yet there was something childlike still -in the expression of her trembling lips, drawn tightly over her teeth -to check her weeping, and in the little hands, one of which, lying -nerveless on the dark stuff of the couch, invited his own towards it. -And he was filled with anger because he dared not take that little -hand in his and link up again the broken chain of their two lives. -He remembered the words of the man possessed with a devil, "What have -I to do with Thee?" and he began to speak again, clasping his hands -together to prevent himself taking one of hers. But still he heard -his voice ring false, and as on that morning in church when he read -the Gospel, and when he carried the sacrament to the old hunter, he -knew himself to be lying. - -"Agnes, listen to me. Last night we were both on the brink of -destruction--God had left us to ourselves and we were slipping over -the edge of the abyss. But now God has taken us by the hand again and -is guiding us. We must not fall, Agnes, Agnes," and his voice shook -with emotion as he spoke her name. "You think I don't suffer? I feel -as if I were buried alive and that my torments would last through -all eternity. But we must endure for your good, for your salvation. -Listen, Agnes, be brave, for the sake of the love which united us, -for God's goodwill towards us in putting us through this trial. You -will forget me. You will recover; you are young, with all your -life still before you. When you think of me it will be like a bad -dream, as though you had lost your way in the valley and met some -evil creature who had tried to do you harm; but God has saved you, -as you deserved to be saved. Everything looks black at present, but -it will clear up soon and you will realize that I am only acting for -your good in causing you a little momentary pain now, just as we are -sometimes obliged to seem cruel to those who are ill...." - -He stopped, the words froze in his throat. - -Agnes had roused herself and was sitting upright in her corner, -gazing at him with eyes as glassy as those in the stags' heads on -the walls. They reminded him of the women's eyes in church, fixed on -him as he preached. She waited for his words, patient and gentle in -every line of her fragile form, yet ready to break down at a touch. -Then speechless himself, he heard her low voice as she shook her head -slowly: - -"No, no, that is not the truth," she said. - -"Then what is the truth?" he asked, bending his troubled face towards -her. - -"Why did you not speak like that last night? And the other nights? -Because it was a different kind of truth then. Now somebody has found -you out, perhaps your mother herself, and you are afraid of the -world. It is not the fear of God which is driving you away from me!" - -He wanted to cry out, to strike her; he seized her hand and twisted -the slender wrist as he would have liked to twist and stifle the -words she spoke. Then he drew himself up stiffly. - -"What then? You think it does not matter? Yes, my mother has -discovered everything and she talked to me like my conscience itself. -And have you no conscience? Do you think it right that we should -injure those who depend on us? You wanted us to go away and live -together, and that would have been the right thing to do if we had -not been able to overcome our love; but since there are beings who -would have been cut off from life by our flight and our sin, we had -to sacrifice ourselves for them." - -But she seemed not to understand, caught only one word, and shook her -head as before. - -"Conscience? Of course I have a conscience, I am no longer a child! -And my conscience tells me that I did wrong in listening to you and -letting you come here. What is to be done? It is too late now; why -did not God make you see things clearly at first? I did not go to -your home, but you came to mine and played with me as if I had been -a child's toy. And what must I do now? Tell me that. I cannot forget -you, I cannot change as you change. I shall go away, even if you will -not come with me--I want to try and forget you. I must go right away, -or else...." - -"Or else?" - -Agnes did not reply; she leaned back in her corner and shivered. -Something ominous, like the dark wing of madness, must have -touched her, for her eyes grew dim and she raised her hand with an -instinctive movement as though to brush away a shadow from before her -face. He bent again towards her, stretching across the couch and his -fingers gripping and breaking through the old material as though it -were a wall that rose between them and threatened to stifle him. - -He could not speak. Yes, she was right; the explanation he had been -trying to make her believe was not the truth--it was the truth that -was rising like a wall and stifling him, and which he did not know -how to break down. And he sat up, battling with a real sense of -suffocation. Now it was she who caught his hand and held it as though -her fingers had been grappling-hooks. - -"O God," she whispered, covering her eyes with her free hand, "if -there be a God, He should not have let us meet each other if we must -part again. And you came to-night because you love me still. You -think I don't know that? I do know, I do know, and that is the truth!" - -She raised her face to his, her trembling lips, her lashes wet with -tears. And his eyes were dazzled as by the glitter of deep waters, a -glitter that blinds and beckons, and the face he gazed into was not -the face of Agnes, nor the face of any woman on this earth,--it was -the face of Love itself. And he fell forward into her arms and kissed -her upon the mouth. - - - - -Chapter 12 - - -The world had ceased for Paul. He felt himself sinking slowly, -swept down by a whirlpool through luminous depths to some dazzling -iridescent place beneath the sea. Then he came to himself again and -drew his lips away from hers, and found himself, like a ship-wrecked -man upon the sand, safe though maimed, and shaking with fear and joy, -but more with fear than joy. And the enchantment that he thought -had been broken for ever, and for this very reason had seemed more -beautiful and dear, wove its spell over him afresh and held him again -in thrall. And again he heard the whisper of her voice: - -"I knew you would come back to me...." - -He wanted to hear no more, just as he had tried not to hear the -servant's tale in the house of Antiochus. He put his hand over -Agnes's mouth as she leaned her head upon his shoulder and then -gently caressed her hair, on which the lamplight threw golden gleams. -She was so small, so helpless in his grasp, and therein lay her -terrible power to drag him down to the bottom of the sea, to raise -him to the highest heights of heaven, to make of him a thing without -will or desire of his own. Whilst he had fled through the valleys and -the hills she had remained shut up within her prison-house, waiting -in the certainty that he would come back to her, and he came. - -"You know, you know...." She tried to tell him more; her soft breath -touched his neck like a caress, he placed his hand on her mouth -again and with her own she pressed it close. And so they remained -in silence for a while; then he pulled himself together and tried -to regain the mastery over his fate. He had come back to her, yes, -but not the same man she had expected. And his gaze still rested on -her gleaming hair, but as on something far away, as on the bright -sparkle of the sea from which he had escaped. - -"Now you are happy," he whispered. "I am here, I have come back and -I am yours for life. But you must be calm, you have given me a great -fright. You must not excite yourself, nor wander on any account from -the straight path of your life. I shall cause you no more trouble, -but you must promise me to be calm and good, as you are now." - -He felt her hands tremble and struggle between his own; he divined -that she was already beginning to rebel and he held them tightly, as -he would have liked to hold her soul imprisoned. - -"Dear Agnes, listen! You will never know all I have suffered to-day, -but it was necessary. I stripped off all the outward shell of me, -all that was impure, and I scourged myself until I bled. But now -here I am, yours, yours, but as God wills that I should be yours, in -spirit.... You see," he went on, speaking slowly and laboriously, as -though dragging his words up painfully from his inmost depths and -offering them to her, "it seems to me that we have loved each other -for years and years, that we have rejoiced and suffered the one for -the other, even unto hatred, even unto death. And all the tempests of -the sea and all its implacable life are within us. Agnes, soul of my -soul, what wouldst thou have of me greater than that which I can give -thee, my soul itself?" - -He stopped short. He felt that she did not understand, she could not -understand. And he beheld her ever more detached from him, as life -from death; but for this very reason he loved her still, yea, more -than ever, as one loves life that is dying. - -She slowly raised her head from his shoulder and looked him in the -face with eyes grown hostile again. - -"Now you listen to me," she said, "and tell me no more lies. Are we -or are we not going away together as we settled last night? We cannot -go on living here, in this way. That is certain!... That is certain!" -she repeated with rising anger, after a moment of painful silence. -"If we are to live together we must go away at once, this very -night. I have money, you know, it is my own. And your mother and my -brothers and every one else will excuse us afterwards when they see -that we only wanted to live according to the truth. We cannot go on -living like this, no, we cannot!" - -"Agnes!" - -"Answer me quick! Yes or no?" - -"I cannot go away with you." - -"Ah--then why have you come back?... Leave me! Get away, leave me!" - -He did not leave her. He felt her whole body shaking and he was -afraid of her; and as she bowed herself over their united hands he -expected to feel her teeth fasten in his flesh. - -"Go, go!" she insisted, "I did not send for you! Since we must be -brave, why did you come back? Why have you kissed me again? Ah, if -you think you can play with me like this you are mistaken! If you -think you can come here at night and write me humiliating letters in -the day you are mistaken again! You came back to-night and you will -come back to-morrow night and every night after that, until at last -you drive me mad. But I won't have it, I won't have it!" - -"We must be pure and brave, you say," she continued, and her face, -grown old and tragic, became now pale as death; "but you never said -that before to-night. You fill me with horror! Go away, far away, and -go at once, so that to-morrow I can wake up without the terror of -expecting you and being humiliated like this again." - -"O God, O God!" he groaned, bending over her, but she repulsed him -sharply. - -"Do you think you are speaking to a child?" she burst out now: "I -am old, and it is you who have made me grow old in a few hours. The -straight path of life! Oh, yes, it would be going straight if we -continued this secret intrigue, wouldn't it? I should find myself -a husband and you should marry me to him, and then we could go on -seeing each other, you and I, and deceiving every one for the rest of -our lives. Oh, you don't know me if that is your idea! Last night -you said, 'Let us go away, we will get married and I will work.' -Didn't you say that? Didn't you? But to-night you come and talk to me -instead about God and sacrifice. So now there is an end of it all: we -will part. But you, I say it again, you must leave the village this -very night, I never wish to see you again. If to-morrow morning you -go once more into our church to say Mass I shall go there too, and -from the altar steps I shall say to the people: 'This is your saint, -who works miracles by day and by night goes to unprotected girls to -seduce them!'" - -He tried in vain to shut her mouth with his hand, and as she kept -on crying aloud, "Go, go!" he seized her head and pressed it to his -breast, glancing with alarm at the closed doors. And he remembered -his mother's words and her voice, mysterious in the darkness: "The -old priest sat beside me and said, I will soon turn both you and your -son out of the parish." - -"Agnes, Agnes, you are mad!" he groaned, his lips close to her ear, -whilst she struggled fiercely to escape from him: "Be calm, listen -to me. Nothing is lost; don't you feel how I love you? A thousand -times more than before! And I am not going away, I am going to stay -near you, to save you, to offer up my soul to you as I shall offer -it up to God in the hour of death. How can you know all that I have -suffered between last night and now? I fled and I bore you with me: I -fled like one who is on fire and who thinks by fleeing to escape the -flames which only envelop him the more. Where have I not been to-day, -what have I not done to keep myself from coming back to you? Yet here -I am, Agnes, and how could I not be here?... Do you hear me? I shall -not betray you, I shall not forget you, I do not wish to forget you! -But, Agnes, we must keep ourselves unsoiled, we must keep our love -for all eternity, we must unite it with all that is best in life, -with renunciation, with death itself, that is to say, with God. Do -you understand, Agnes? Yes, tell me that you understand!" - -She fought him back, as though she wanted to break in his breast with -her head, till at last she freed herself from his embrace and sat -rigid and upright, her beautiful hair twisted like ribbons round her -stony face. With tight-shut lips and closed eyes, she seemed to have -suddenly fallen into a deep sleep, wherein she dreamed of vengeance. -And he was more afraid of her silence and immobility than of her -frenzied words and excited gestures. He took her hands again in his, -but now all four hands were dead to joy and to the clasp of love. - -"Agnes, can't you see that I am right? Come, be good; go to bed now -and to-morrow a new life will begin for us all. We shall see each -other just the same, always supposing you desire it: I will be your -friend, your brother, and we shall be a mutual help and support. My -life is yours, dispose of me as you wish. I shall be with you till -the hour of death, and beyond death, for all eternity." - -This tone of prayer irritated her afresh. She twisted her hands -slightly within his and opened her lips to speak. Then, as he set -her free, she folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head and her -face took on an expression of the deepest grief, but now a grief that -was desperate and determined. - -He continued to gaze steadfastly at her, as one gazes at the dying, -and his fear increased. He slid to his knees before her, he laid his -head in her lap and kissed her hands; he cared nothing now if he were -seen or heard, he knelt there at the feet of the woman and her sorrow -as at the feet of the Mother of Sorrows herself. Never before had he -felt so pure of evil thought, so dead to this earthly life; and yet -he was afraid. - -Agnes sat motionless, with icy hands, insensible to those kisses of -death. Then he got up and began to speak lies again. - -"Thank you, Agnes--that is right and I am very pleased. The trial has -been won and you can rest in peace. I am going now, and to-morrow," -he added in a whisper, bending nervously towards her, "to-morrow -morning you will come to Mass and together we will offer our -sacrifice to God." - -She opened her eyes and looked at him, then closed them again. She -was as one wounded to death, whose eyes had opened wide with a last -menace and appeal before they closed for ever. - -"You will go away to-night, quite away, so that I shall never see you -again," she said, pronouncing each word distinctly and decisively, -and he realized that for the moment at least it was useless to oppose -that blind force. - -"I cannot go like that," he murmured: "I must say Mass to-morrow -morning and you will come and hear it, and afterwards I will go away, -if necessary." - -"Then I shall come to-morrow morning and denounce you before all the -congregation." - -"If you do that it will be a sign that it is God's will. But you -won't do it, Agnes! You may hate me, but I leave you in peace. -Good-bye." - -Even yet he did not go. He stood quite still, looking down at her, -at her soft and gleaming hair, the sweet hair he loved and through -which so often his hands had strayed, and it awoke in him an infinite -pity, for it seemed like the black bandage round a wounded head. - -For the last time he called her by her name: - -"Agnes! Is it possible that we can part like this?... Come," he added -after a moment, "give me your hand, get up and open the door for me." - -She got up obediently, but she did not give him her hand; she went -direct to the door through which she had entered the room, and there -she stood still, waiting. - -"What can I do?" he asked himself. And he knew very well that there -was only one thing he could do to appease her: to fall at her feet -again, to sin and be lost with her for ever. - -And that he would not do, never never more. He remained firm, there -where he stood, and lowered his eyes that he might not meet her -look, and when he raised them again she was no longer there; she had -disappeared, swallowed up in the darkness of her silent house. - - * * * * * - -The glass eyes of the stags' and deer's heads upon the walls looked -down at him with mingled sadness and derision. And in that moment of -suspense, alone in the big melancholy room, he realized the whole -immensity of his wretchedness and his humiliation. He felt himself -a thief, and worse than a thief, a guest who takes advantage of the -solitude of the house that shelters him to rob it basely. He averted -his eyes, for he could not meet even the glassy stare of the heads -upon the wall: but he did not waver in his purpose for one moment, -and even if the death-cry of the woman had suddenly filled the house -with horror, he would not have repented having rejected her. - -He waited a few minutes longer, but nobody appeared. He had a -confused idea that he was standing in the middle of a dead world of -all his dreams and his mistakes, waiting till some one came and -helped him to get away. But nobody came. So at last he pushed open -the door that led into the orchard, traversed the path that ran -beside the wall and went out by the little gate he knew so well. - - - - -Chapter 13 - - -Once more Paul found himself ascending his own staircase; but now the -danger was past, or at least the fear of danger. - -Nevertheless he halted before his mother's door, deeming that it -would be advisable to tell her the result of his interview with Agnes -and of her threat to denounce him. But he heard the sound of regular -breathing and passed on; his mother had quietly fallen asleep, for -henceforth she was sure of him and felt that he was safe. - -Safe! He looked round his room as though he had just returned from a -long and disastrous journey. Everything was peaceful and tidy, and -he moved about on tiptoe as he began to undress, for the sake of not -disturbing that orderliness and silence. His clothes hanging from -their hooks, blacker than their shadows on the wall, his hat above -them, stuck forward on a wooden peg, the sleeves of his cassock -falling limply as though tired out, all had the vague appearance of -some dark and empty phantom, some fleshless and bloodless vampire -that inspired a nameless dread. It was like the shadow of that sin -from which he had cut himself free, but which was waiting to follow -him again to-morrow on his way through the world. - -An instant more, and he perceived with terror that the nightmare -obsessed him still. He was not safe yet, there was another night to -be got through, as the voyager crosses a last stretch of turbulent -sea. He was very weary and his heavy eyelids drooped with fatigue, -but an intolerable anxiety prevented him from throwing himself on his -bed, or even sitting down on a chair or resting in any way whatever; -he wandered here and there, doing small, unusual, useless things, -softly opening drawer after drawer and inspecting what there was -inside. - -As he passed before the mirror he looked at his own reflection and -beheld himself grey of face, with purple lips and hollow eyes. "Look -well at yourself, Paul," he said to his image, and he stepped back -a little so that the lamplight might fall better on the glass. The -figure in the mirror stepped back also, as though seeking to escape -him, and as he stared into its eyes and noted the dilated pupils he -had a strange impression that the real Paul was the one in the glass, -a Paul who never lied and who betrayed by the pallor of his face all -his awful fear of the morrow. - -"Why do I pretend even to myself a security which I do not feel?" was -his silent question. "I must go away this very night as she bade me." - -And somewhat calmer for the resolve he threw himself on his bed. And -thus, with closed eyes and face pressed into the pillow, he believed -he could search more deeply into his conscience. - -"Yes, I must leave to-night. Christ himself commands us to avoid -creating scandals. I had better wake my mother and tell her, and -perhaps we can leave together; she can take me away with her again -as she did when I was a child and I can begin a new life in another -place." - -But he felt that all this was mere exaltation and that he had not -the courage to do as he proposed. And why should he? He really felt -quite sure that Agnes would not carry out her threat, so why should -he go away? He was not even confronted with the danger of going back -to her and falling into sin again, for he had now been tried and had -overcome temptation. - -But the exaltation took hold of him again. - -"Nevertheless, Paul, you will have to go. Awaken your mother and -depart together. Don't you know who it is speaking to you? It is -I, Agnes. You really believe that I shall not carry out my threat? -Perhaps I shall not, but I advise you to go, all the same. You think -you have got rid of me? And yet I am within you, I am the evil genius -of your life. If you remain here I shall never leave you alone for -one single instant; I shall be the shadow beneath your feet, the -barrier between you and your mother, between you and your own self. -Go." - -Then he tried to pacify her, in order to pacify his own conscience. - -"Yes, I am going, I tell you! I am going--we will go together, you -within me, more alive than I myself. Be content, torment me no more! -We are together, journeying together, borne on the wings of time -towards eternity. Divided and distant we were when our eyes first -met and our lips kissed; divided were we then and enemies; only -now begins our real union, in thy hatred, in my patience, in my -renunciation." - - * * * * * - -Then weariness slowly overcame him. He heard a subdued, continuous -moaning outside his window, like a dove seeking her mate: and that -mournful cry was like the lament of the night itself, a night pale -with moonlight, a soft, veiled light, with the sky all flecked with -little white clouds like feathers. Then he became aware that it was -he himself who was moaning; but sleep was already stealing over him, -calming his senses, and fear and sorrow and remembrance faded away. -He dreamed he was really on a journey, riding up the mountain paths -towards the plateau. Everything was peaceful and clear; between the -big yellow elder trees he could see stretches of grass, of a soft -green that gave rest to the eyes, and motionless upon the rocks the -eagles blinked at the sun. - -Suddenly the keeper stood before him, saluted, and placed an open -book on his saddle-bow. And he began to read St. Paul's Epistle to -the Corinthians, taking it up at the precise point where he had left -off the previous night: "The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise and -that they are vain." - - * * * * * - -On Sundays Mass was later than on other days, but Paul always went -early to the church to hear the confessions of those women who wished -to attend Communion later. So his mother called him at the usual time. - -He had slept for some hours, a heavy dreamless sleep, and when he -woke his memory was a complete blank, he only had a supreme desire to -go to sleep again immediately. But the knocks on his door persisted, -and then he remembered. Instantly he was on his feet, numb with dread. - -"Agnes will come to church and denounce me before all the people," -was his one thought. - -He did not know why, but somehow whilst he slept the certainty -that she would carry out her threat had taken firm root in his -consciousness. - -He dropped down in his chair with trembling knees and a sense of -complete helplessness. His mind was clouded and confused: he wondered -vaguely if it would not be possible even now to avert the scandal--he -might feign illness and not say Mass at all, and thus gain time -in which he might endeavour to pacify Agnes. But the very idea of -beginning the whole thing over again, of suffering a second time all -his misery of the previous day, only increased his mental torment. - -He got up, and his head seemed to hit the sky through the glass -of his window, and he stamped his feet on the floor to dispel the -numbness that was paralysing his very blood. Then he dressed, -drawing his leather belt tightly round his waist and folding -his mantle round him as he had seen the hunters buckle on their -cartridge-belts and wrap themselves up in their cloaks before -starting out for the mountains. When at last he flung open his window -and leaned out he felt that only then were his eyes awaking to the -light of day after the nightmare of the dark hours, only then had -he escaped from the prison of his own self to make his peace with -external things. But it was a forced peace, full of secret rancour, -and it sufficed for him to draw in his head from the cool fresh air -outside to the warm and perfumed atmosphere of his room for him to -fall back into himself, a prey again to his gnawing dread. - -So he fled downstairs, wondering what he had better tell his mother. - -He heard her somewhat harsh voice driving off the chickens who were -trying to invade the dining-room, and the fluttering of their wings -as they scattered before her, and he smelt the fragrance of hot -coffee and the clean sweet scents from the garden. In the lane under -the ridge there was a tinkle of bells as the goats were driven to -their pasture, little bells that sounded like childish echoes of the -cheerful if monotonous chime wherewith Antiochus, up in the church -tower, summoned the people to wake from sleep and come to hear Mass. - -Everything around was sweet and peaceful, bathed in the rosy light of -early morning. And Paul remembered his dream. - -There was nothing to hinder him from going out, from going to church -and taking up his ordinary life again. Yet all his fear returned -upon him; he was afraid alike of going forward or of turning back. -As he stood on the step of the open door he felt as if he were on -the summit of some precipitous mountain, it was impossible to get -any higher and below him yawned the abyss. So he stood there for -unspeakable moments, during which his heart beat furiously and he had -the physical sensation of falling, of struggling at the bottom of a -gulf, in a swirl of foaming waters, a wheel that turned helplessly, -vainly beating the stream that swept on its relentless course. - -It was his own heart that turned and turned helplessly in the -whirlpool of life. He closed the door and went back into the house, -and sat down on the stairs as his mother had done the previous night. -He gave up trying to solve the problem that tortured him and simply -waited for some one to come and help him. - -And there his mother found him. When he saw her he got up -immediately, feeling somehow comforted at once, yet humiliated, too, -in the very depths of his being, so sure was he of the advice she -would give him to proceed upon his chosen way. - -But at the first sight of him her worn face grew pale, as though -refined through grief. - -"Paul!" she cried, "what are you doing there? Are you ill?" - -"Mother," he said, walking to the front door without turning into the -dining-room, "I did not want to wake you last night, it was so late. -Well, I went to see her. I went to see her...." - -His mother had already recovered her composure and stood looking -fixedly at him. In the brief silence that followed his words they -could hear the church bell ringing quickly and insistently as though -it were right over the house. - -"She is quite well," continued Paul, "but she is very excited and -insists that I shall leave the place at once: otherwise she threatens -to come to church and create a scandal by denouncing me before the -congregation." - -His mother kept silence, but he felt her at his side, stern and -steadfast, upholding him, supporting him as she had supported his -earliest steps. - -"She wanted me to go away this very night. And she said that ... if I -did not go, she would come to church this morning.... I am not afraid -of her: besides, I don't believe she will come." - -He opened the front door and a flood of golden light poured into the -dark little passage, as though trying to entice him and his mother -out into the sunshine. Paul walked towards the church without -turning round, and his mother stood at the door looking after him. - -She had not opened her lips, but a slight trembling seized her again, -and only with an effort could she maintain her outward composure. All -at once she went up to her bedroom and hurriedly dressed for church: -she was going too, and she, too, drew in her belt and walked with -firm steps. And before she left the house she remembered to drive -out the intruding chickens again, and to draw the coffee-pot to the -side of the fire; then she twisted the long end of her scarf over her -mouth and chin to hide the obstinate trembling that would persist in -spite of all her efforts to overcome it. - -So it was only with a glance of the eyes that she could return the -greetings of the women who were coming up from the village, and of -the old men already seated on the low parapet round the square before -the church, their black pointed caps standing out in sharp relief -against the background of rosy morning sky. - - - - -Chapter 14 - - -Meanwhile Paul had gone into the church. - -A few eager penitents were waiting for him, gathered round the -confessional; the woman who had arrived first was already kneeling -at the little grating, whilst the others waited their turn in the -benches close by. - -Nina Masia was kneeling on the floor under the holy-water stoup, -which looked as though it were resting on her wicked little head, -while several boys who were early astir were gathered in a circle -round her. Hurrying in with his thoughts elsewhere the priest knocked -up against them, and his anger rose instantly as he recognized the -girl, who had been placed there by her mother on purpose that she -might attract attention. She seemed to be always in his way, at once -a hindrance and a reproach. - -"Clear out of this instantly!" he bade them, in a voice so loud that -it was heard all over the church; and immediately the circle of boys -spread itself out and moved a little farther off, with Nina still -in the middle, but they grouped themselves round her in such a way -that she could be seen by every one. The women all turned their heads -to look at her, though without interrupting their prayers for an -instant: she really looked as if she were the idol of the barbaric -little church, redolent of the smell of the fields brought in by the -peasants and flooded with the rosy haze of a country morning. - -Paul walked straight up the nave, but his secret anguish grew ever -greater. As he passed, his cassock brushed against the seat where -Agnes usually sat; it was the old family pew, the kneeling-stool in -front of it richly carved, and with his eyes and measured paces he -calculated the distance between it and the altar. - -"If I watch for the moment when she rises to carry out her fatal -threat I shall have time to get into the sacristy," was his -conclusion, and he shivered now as he entered. - -Antiochus had hurried down from the belfry to help Paul robe himself, -and was waiting for him beside the open cupboard where his vestments -hung. He had a pale and serious, almost tragic air, as though already -over-shadowed by the future career which had been settled for him the -previous evening. But the gravity was transient and a smile flickered -over the boy's face, just fresh from the windswept belfry; his eyes -sparkled with joy beneath their decorously lowered lids, and he had -to bite his lips to check the ready laugh; his young heart responded -to all the radiance, the inspirations, the joyousness of that festal -morning. Then his eyes clouded suddenly as he was arranging the -lace of the alb over the priest's wrist and he shot a quick look at -his master, for he had perceived that the hand beneath the lace was -trembling and he saw that the beloved face was pallid and distraught. - -"Do you feel ill, sir?" - -Paul did feel ill, although he shook his head in denial. He felt as -though his mouth were full of blood, yet a tiny germ of hope was -springing up in the midst of his distress. - -"I shall fall down dead, my heart will break; and then, at least, -there will be an end of everything." - -He went down into the church again to hear the confessions of the -women, and saw his mother at the bottom of the nave near the door. -Stern and motionless she knelt there, keeping watch over all who -entered the church, over the whole church itself, ready, apparently, -to support and hold it up were it even to collapse upon her head. - -But he had no more courage left: only that tiny germ of hope within -his heart, the hope of death, grew and grew till the breath in him -stifled and failed. - -When he was seated inside the confessional he felt somewhat calmer; -it was like being in a grave, but at least he was hidden from view -and could look his horror in the face. The subdued whispering of the -women behind the gratings, broken by their little sighs and their -warm breath, was like the rustling of lizards in the long grass on -the ridge. And Agnes was there too, safe in the secret retreat where -he had so often taken her in his thoughts. And the soft breathing -of the young women, the scent of their hair and their gala dress, -all perfumed with lavender, mingled with his distress and further -inflamed his passion. - -And he gave them all absolution, absolved them from all their sins, -thinking that perhaps before many days had passed he himself would be -a suppliant to them for their compassion. - - * * * * * - -Then he was seized with the craving to get out, to see whether Agnes -had arrived. But her seat was empty. - -Perhaps she was not coming after all. Yet sometimes she remained -at the bottom of the church, kneeling on a chair which her servant -brought for her. He turned to look, but saw only his mother's rigid -figure, and as he knelt before the altar and began the Mass, he felt -that her soul was bending before God, clothed in her grief as he was -clothed in his alb and stole. - -Then he determined not to look behind him again, to close his eyes -each time he had to turn round to give the blessing. He felt as if -he were climbing ever higher up some steep and stony Calvary, and a -sensation of giddiness seized him whenever the ritual obliged him to -face the congregation. Then he closed his eyes to shut out the sight -of the abyss that yawned at his feet; but even through his closed -eyelids he saw the carven bench and the figure of Agnes, her black -dress standing out in relief against the grey wall of the church. - -And Agnes was really there, dressed in black with a black veil -round her ivory-white face; her eyes were fixed on her prayer-book, -the gilt clasp of which glittered in her black-gloved hands, but -she never turned a page. The servant with the head of a slave was -kneeling on the floor of the aisle beside the bench, and every now -and then she raised her eyes, like a faithful dog, to her mistress's -face, as though in silent sympathy with the sad thoughts that -possessed her. - -And he beheld everything from his place at the altar and hope died -within him; only from the bottom of his heart he told himself it was -impossible that Agnes would carry out her insane threat. He turned -the pages of the Gospel, but his faltering voice could scarcely -pronounce the words; he broke into a sweat of apprehension, and -caught hold of the book as he felt himself fainting. - -In a moment he pulled himself together. Antiochus was looking at him, -watching the awful change that came over his face as over the face -of a corpse, keeping close beside him to support him if he fell, -and glancing at the old men by the altar rails to see if they had -noticed the priest's distress. But nobody noticed it--even his mother -remained in her place, praying and waiting without seeing anything -amiss with her son. Then Antiochus drew still closer to him with a -protecting movement, so that Paul looked round startled, but the boy -gave him a reassuring glance out of his bright eyes, as much as to -say: - -"I am here, it's all right, go on----" - -And he went on, climbing that steep Calvary till the blood flowed -back into his heart and the tension of his nerves relaxed. But it was -the relaxation of despair, the abandonment to danger, the quiet of -the drowning man who has no more strength to battle with the waves. -When he turned again to the congregation he did not close his eyes. - -"The Lord be with you." - -Agnes was there in her place, bent over the page she never turned, -the gilt clasp of the book shining in the dim light. The servant was -crouching at her feet and all the other women, including his mother -at the bottom of the church, were sitting back on their heels on the -bare floor, ready to resume their kneeling position immediately the -priest should move the book. - -And he moved the book and went on with the prayers and the slow -gestures of the ritual. And a feeling of tenderness crept into his -despair at the thought that Agnes was bearing him company on his -road to Calvary, as Mary had followed too, that in another moment she -would mount the altar steps and stand beside him once again, having -overcome their transgression, to expiate together as together they -had sinned. How could he hate her if she brought his punishment with -her, if her hatred was only love disguised? - -Then came the Communion, and the few drops of wine went down into -his breast like quickening blood; he felt strong, revived, his heart -filled with the presence of God. - -And as he descended the steps towards the women the figure of Agnes -in her seat stood out prominent amidst the crowd of bowed heads. She, -too, had bowed her head upon her hands; perhaps she was summoning her -courage before she moved. And suddenly he felt infinite pity for her; -he would have liked to go down to her and give her absolution, and -administer the Communion as to a dying woman. He, too, had summoned -his courage, but his hands shook as he held the wafer to the women's -lips. - - * * * * * - -Immediately the Communion was ended an old peasant began to intone a -hymn. The congregation sang the verses after him in subdued voices, -and repeated the antiphons twice out loud. The hymn was primitive -and monotonous, old as the earliest prayers of man uttered in -forests where as yet scarcely man dwelt, old and monotonous as the -breaking of waves on a solitary shore; yet that low singing around -her sufficed to bring Agnes's thoughts back, as though she had been -rushing breathless by night through some primeval forest and had -suddenly emerged upon the seashore, amidst sandhills covered with -sweet flowers and golden in the light of dawn. - -Something stirred in the very depths of her being, a strange emotion -gripped her throat; she felt the world turning round with her as -though she had been walking head downwards and now resumed her -natural position. - -It was her past and the past of all her race that surged up and took -hold of her, with the singing of the women and the old men, with the -voices of her nurse and her servants, the men and women who had -built and furnished her house, and ploughed her fields and woven the -linen for her swaddling clothes. - -How could she denounce herself before all these people who looked up -to her as their mistress and held her even purer than the priest at -the altar? And then she, too, felt the presence of God around her and -within her, even in her passion itself. - -She knew very well that the punishment she meant to inflict upon the -man with whom she had sinned was her own punishment too; but now a -merciful God spoke to her with the voices of the old men and women -and the innocent children, and bade her beware of her own self, -counselled her to seek salvation. - -As her people round her sang the verses of the hymn, all the days of -her solitary life unrolled themselves before her inward vision. She -saw herself again a little child, then a young girl, then a grown -woman in this same church, on this same seat blackened and worn -by the elbows and knees of her forefathers. In a sense the church -belonged to her family; it had been built by one of her ancestors, -and tradition said that the image of the Madonna had been captured -from Barbary pirates and brought back to the village by a far-away -grandfather of hers. - -She had been born and brought up amidst these traditions, in an -atmosphere of simple grandeur that kept her aloof from the smaller -people of Aar, yet still in the midst of them, shut in amongst them -like a pearl in its rough shell. - -How could she denounce herself before her people? But this very -feeling of being mistress even of the sacred building rendered more -insufferable still the presence of the man who had been her companion -in sin, and who appeared at the altar wearing a mask of saintliness -and bearing the holy vessels in his hands--tall and splendid he stood -above her as she knelt at his feet, guilty in that she had loved him. - -Her heart swelled anew with rage and grief as the hymn rose and -fell around her, like a supplication rising from out some abyss, -imploring help and justice, and she heard the voice of God, dark and -stern, bidding her drive His unworthy servant out of His temple. - -She grew pale as death and broke into a cold sweat; her knees shook -against the seat, but she bowed no more and with head erect she -watched the movements of the priest at the altar. And it was as -though some evil breath went out from her to him, paralysing him, -enveloping him in the same icy grip that held her fast. - - * * * * * - -And he felt that mortal breath that emanated from her will, and -just as on bitter winter mornings, his fingers were frozen and -uncontrollable shivers ran down his spine. When he turned to give the -benediction he saw Agnes gazing at him. Their eyes met as in a flash, -and like a drowning man he remembered in that instant all the joy of -his life, joy sprung wholly and solely from love of her, from the -first look of her eyes, the first kiss of her lips. - -Then he saw her rise from her seat, book in hand. - -"Oh God, Thy will be done," he stammered, kneeling--and he seemed -to be actually in the Garden of Olives, watching the shadow of an -inexorable fate. - -He prayed aloud and waited, and midst the confused sound of the -people's prayers he thought he could distinguish Agnes's step as she -moved toward the altar. - -"She is coming--she has left her seat, she is between her seat and -the altar. She is coming ... she is here--every one is staring at -her. She is at my side!" - -The obsession was so strong that the words failed on his lips. He saw -Antiochus, who had already begun to extinguish the candles, suddenly -turn and look round, and he knew for certain that she was there, -close to him, on the chancel steps. - -He rose to his feet, the roof seemed to fall down upon his head and -fracture it; his knees scarcely upheld him, but with a sudden effort -he managed to get up to the altar again and take the pyx. And as he -turned to enter the sacristy he saw that Agnes had advanced from her -seat to the railing and was about to mount the steps. - -"Oh, Lord, why not let me die?" and he bowed his head over the pyx as -though baring his neck to the sword that was about to strike it. But -as he entered the sacristy door he looked again and perceived Agnes -bowed at the altar railing as she knelt on the lowest step. - - * * * * * - -She had stumbled at the lowest step outside the railing, and as -though a wall had suddenly risen up before her, she had dropped on -her knees. A thick mist dimmed her sight and she could go no further. - -Presently the dimness cleared and she could see the steps again, the -yellow carpet before the altar, the flowers upon the table and the -burning lamp. But the priest had disappeared, and in his place a ray -of sunlight smote obliquely through the dusk and made a golden patch -upon the carpet. - -She crossed herself, rose to her feet and moved towards the door. The -servant followed her and the old men, the women and the children -turned to smile at her and bless her with their eyes; she was their -mistress, their symbol of beauty and of faith, so far removed from -them and yet in the midst of them and all their misery, like a wild -rose amongst the brambles. - -At the church door the servant offered her holy water on the tips -of her fingers, and then stooped to brush off the dust of the altar -steps which still clung to her dress. As the girl raised herself -again she saw the ashen face of Agnes turned towards the corner where -the priest's mother had knelt through all the service. Then she saw -the mother sitting motionless on the ground, her head sunk forward -on her breast, her shoulders leaning against the wall as though she -had made a supreme effort to uphold it in a great collapse. Noticing -the fixed gaze of Agnes and the servant, a woman also turned to look, -then sprang quickly to the side of the priest's mother, spoke to her -in a whisper and raised her face in her hand. - -The mother's eyes were half-closed, glassy, the pupils upturned; the -rosary had dropped from her hand and her head fell sideways on to the -shoulder of the woman who held her. - -"She is dead!" shrieked the woman. - -And instantly the whole congregation was on its feet and crowding to -the bottom of the church. - -Meanwhile Paul had gone back into the sacristy with Antiochus, who -was carrying the book of the Gospel. He was trembling with cold and -with relief; he actually felt as though he had just escaped from a -shipwreck, and he wanted to energize and walk about to warm himself -and convince himself that it had all been a bad dream. - -Then a confused murmur of voices was heard in the church, at first -low, then growing quickly louder and louder. Antiochus put his head -out of the sacristy door and saw all the people collected together at -the bottom of the nave, as though there were some obstruction at the -entrance, but an old man was already hastening up the chancel steps -and making mysterious signs. - -"His mother is taken ill," he said. - -Paul, still robed in his alb, was down there at one bound and threw -himself on his knees that he might look more closely into his -mother's face as she lay stretched on the ground, with her head in a -woman's lap and hemmed in by the pressing crowd. - -"Mother, mother!" - -The face was still and rigid, the eyes half-closed, the teeth -clenched in the effort not to cry aloud. - -And he knew instantly that she had died of the shock of that same -grief, that same terror which he had been enabled to overcome. - -And he, too, clenched his teeth that he might not cry aloud when he -raised his head; and across the confused mass of the people surging -round, his eyes met the eyes of Agnes fixed upon him. - - * * * * * - - TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES - -Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. - -A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and -non-hyphenated variants. For those words, the variant more frequently -used was retained. - -Obvious punctuation errors were fixed. - -Other printing errors, which were not detected during the revision of -the printing process of the original book, have been corrected. - -A Table of Content was added before the Translator's Note. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Woman and the Priest, by Grazia Deledda - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMAN AND THE PRIEST *** - -***** This file should be named 53918-8.txt or 53918-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/1/53918/ - -Produced by Andrés V. Galia, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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 www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |