Part 14 (1/2)
”Yes,” replied the Bishop, ”you are called my brother.”
”Stop, Monsieur le Cure,” exclaimed the man. ”I was very hungry when I entered here; but you are so good, that I no longer know what has happened to me.”
The Bishop looked at him, and said,--
”You have suffered much?”
”Oh, the red coat, the ball on the ankle, a plank to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the convicts, the thras.h.i.+ngs, the double chain for nothing, the cell for one word; even sick and in bed, still the chain! Dogs, dogs are happier! Nineteen years! I am forty-six. Now there is the yellow pa.s.sport. That is what it is like.”
”Yes,” resumed the Bishop, ”you have come from a very sad place.
Listen. There will be more joy in heaven over the tear-bathed face of a repentant sinner than over the white robes of a hundred just men. If you emerge from that sad place with thoughts of hatred and of wrath against mankind, you are deserving of pity; if you emerge with thoughts of good-will and of peace, you are more worthy than any one of us.”
In the meantime, Madame Magloire had served supper: soup, made with water, oil, bread, and salt; a little bacon, a bit of mutton, figs, a fresh cheese, and a large loaf of rye bread. She had, of her own accord, added to the Bishop's ordinary fare a bottle of his old Mauves wine.
The Bishop's face at once a.s.sumed that expression of gayety which is peculiar to hospitable natures. ”To table!” he cried vivaciously. As was his custom when a stranger supped with him, he made the man sit on his right. Mademoiselle Baptistine, perfectly peaceable and natural, took her seat at his left.
The Bishop asked a blessing; then helped the soup himself, according to his custom. The man began to eat with avidity.
All at once the Bishop said: ”It strikes me there is something missing on this table.”
Madame Magloire had, in fact, only placed the three sets of forks and spoons which were absolutely necessary. Now, it was the usage of the house, when the Bishop had any one to supper, to lay out the whole six sets of silver on the table-cloth--an innocent ostentation. This graceful semblance of luxury was a kind of child's play, which was full of charm in that gentle and severe household, which raised poverty into dignity.
Madame Magloire understood the remark, went out without saying a word, and a moment later the three sets of silver forks and spoons demanded by the Bishop were glittering upon the cloth, symmetrically arranged before the three persons seated at the table.
CHAPTER IV--DETAILS CONCERNING THE CHEESE-DAIRIES OF PONTARLIER.
Now, in order to convey an idea of what pa.s.sed at that table, we cannot do better than to transcribe here a pa.s.sage from one of Mademoiselle Baptistine's letters to Madame Boischevron, wherein the conversation between the convict and the Bishop is described with ingenious minuteness.
”... This man paid no attention to any one. He ate with the voracity of a starving man. However, after supper he said:
”'Monsieur le Cure of the good G.o.d, all this is far too good for me; but I must say that the carters who would not allow me to eat with them keep a better table than you do.'
”Between ourselves, the remark rather shocked me. My brother replied:--
”'They are more fatigued than I.'
”'No,' returned the man, 'they have more money. You are poor; I see that plainly. You cannot be even a curate. Are you really a cure? Ah, if the good G.o.d were but just, you certainly ought to be a cure!'
”'The good G.o.d is more than just,' said my brother.
”A moment later he added:--
”'Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are going?'
”'With my road marked out for me.'
”I think that is what the man said. Then he went on:--