The Grip of Desire Part 54

--Ah, do not tell a falsehood. It is a mortal sin to tell a falsehood in confession. Who is your Confessor?

--He is Monsieur Matou.

--Ah, Matou! the Abbe Matou. Yes, yes, he has spoken to you about it, I know him; he must have spoken to you about it. Come, tell me all about that.

--Well, once he asked me....

--Ah, ah! well, well! do not stop. What is it he asked you?

--He asked me ... ah! it is a long time ago, before my first communion.

--Well?

--He asked me, if I did not go and play with the little boys.

--And then?

--If I had not culpable relations with them.

--Culpable relations with little boys, well! And what did you answer him?

--I answered him that I had not.

--That you had not! Was that quite true? Do not blush, and do not tell a falsehood. I shall see if you are going to tell a falsehood.

--Yes, Monseigneur, it was quite true; I did not even know what Monsieur Matou meant.

--And you know it now?

--Yes, he explained it to me.

--Oh, oh! he explained it to you. And how did he explain that to you?

--He told me....

--Let us see what he told you. Come, come, you most not hang down your head: see, lift up this pretty face and show me this little dimple; what did the Abbe Matou say to you?... Eh, eh! who is there! who is knocking at the door? Is it you, Gaudinet? Rise up, my little daughter, and go and sit down there, in the corner. Come in, Gaudinet, come in then.

Gaudinet put his head discreetly inside.

--Monseigneur, I came to inform you that the Cure of Althausen has been there for some time.

--There? where is that?

--In the cabinet.

--What! in the cabinet? Ah, are you mad, Gaudinet, to send people in this way into my cabinet? I do not approve of that, I do not approve of that at all. What does that Cure of Althausen want with me?

Lx.x.xVI.

SERIOUS TALK.

"Such were the words of the man of the Rock; his authority was too great, his wisdom too deep, not to obey him."

CHATEAUBRIAND (_Atala_).

Marcel had not heard these last words. At Gaudinet's first word, he had quickly vanished, foreseeing that a terrible tempest would burst upon his head, if the Bishop should suspect that he had been a witness of his way of hearing little girls' confessions, the usual way however of nearly all priests; I appeal to the memories of the Lord's sheep.

--Monsieur le Cure!... cried Gaudinet, opening the door. Ah, he is no longer there. He has gone away, Monseigneur. I had told him, in fact, that your Lords.h.i.+p was very busy, and, no doubt, he wished not to trouble you.

--I was, in fact, expecting him. He will return to-morrow. But, for G.o.d's sake, Gaudinet, never let anybody enter that room without warning me beforehand.

Marcel was already at the bottom of the stairs. A valet called him back, and Gaudinet, after bringing out the little girl, introduced him to Monseigneur's presence.

--Ah, there you are, said the latter in a harsh tone, looking him straight in the face. Why did you go away?

--I was told that Monseigneur was engaged, and I feared to disturb your Lords.h.i.+p.

--Who told you that?

--The Abbe Gaudinet.

--You are much changed. I should not have recognized you. I have received a letter from Monsieur le Cure of St. Nicholas, he added, searching on his desk. Here it is. He says that you have returned to better sentiments ...

that you are amended, humbled before G.o.d ... that you wish henceforth to follow the good way ... Is that so?

--That is my desire, Monseigneur.

--It is not enough to desire, sir, you must intend, firmly intend.

--I intend also.

--I intend to believe it. I ask nothing better than to oblige my old friend Ridoux by doing something for you. Sit down. We are in want of priests, that is to say, intelligent, hard-working, active priests, on whom we can absolutely rely. Times are becoming difficult. Evil doctrines are spreading. Faith is pa.s.sing away. Infamous writers, wretched pamphleteers are spreading everywhere, at so much a line, the seeds of doubt and perversity. And to crown the evil, imprudent and maladroit priests are indulging their vices and creating scandal. But we are not discouraged. Is the holy arch in danger because a few nails are rusty, because a few cords are rotten? Other nails and cords are supplied in their place, and the rottenness is cast away. But we must not hide from ourselves that we are pa.s.sing through a melancholy period. This is what priests for the greater part do not clearly see. They slumber in their priesthood, take their emoluments, grow fat, go their small way, and believe they have discharged their duty. That is not the case. When a man has the honour to be a priest, he must be active. It is necessary, as in the time of the persecutions, to make proselytes and win souls; to confront the irreligious propaganda with our propaganda; lampoons, with lampoons; speeches, with sermons; acts, with acts. In short, we must struggle. Can we remain still and idle, when our Holy Father is imprisoned in a den of thieves?

The time has come. We are fighting for our very existence, we must close the ranks, take count of ourselves, and above all see on what and on whom we can count. Let us see what we can expect from you? What do you ask? You wish to come to the town? I warn you that it will be hard, if you intend to do what I expect of you.

--The trouble does not frighten me, Monseigneur.

--You will have a difficult parish. You will have to run foul of a thousand different interests, and not give the slightest pretext for slander. You understand me? There are five or six influential Liberals whose wives or daughters you must win over adroitly, and at any cost--at any cost, you understand. Do you feel yourself qualified for this work? Are you the man we need?

--I will try, Monseigneur.

--You will try. That is not on answer. It is not enough to try; you most succeed. We are surrounded with men who commit nothing but follies, while intending to do well. h.e.l.l, you know, is paved with good intentions.

He looked at Marcel attentively, and the latter asked himself if this were really the man he had heard, only a few moments before, talking lightly with a little girl.

--You have good manners, continued the Bishop; you are intelligent, I know.