Part 9 (1/2)

Father Martin was the Cucugnan priest.

He was as wholesome as fresh bread, as good as gold, and he had a paternal love for his Cucugnanians. For him Cucugnan would have been the nearest thing to paradise on earth, if only the people had given him a little more, shall we say, business. But, sadly, his confessional remained unused except as a larder for spiders. On Easter day, the hosts remained secure in their holy ciborium. It hurt the good priest to the very centre of his soul, and every day he prayed that he would live to see his missing flock back in the fold.

Well, as you will see, the good Lord was listening.

One Sunday after the Gospels, monsieur Martin took his place in the pulpit.

--Bretheren, he said, believe me, or believe me not, the other night, I found myself, yes me, a miserable sinner, at the very gates of paradise.

”I knocked. St. Peter himself opened the gates!

”--Well! It's you, my dear monsieur Martin, he began, which fine wind...? And what can I do for you?

”--Dear St. Peter, keeper of the key and the great book, if I may be so bold, could you tell me how many Cucugnanians are in heaven?

”--I can refuse you nothing, monsieur Martin. Sit down, we will look it up together.

”St. Peter then took up his thick book, opened it, and put on his spec's:

”--Now then, let's see: Cucugnan, you say. Cu...Cu...Cucugnan. Here we are. Cucugnan.... My dear monsieur Martin, the page is purest white.

Not a soul.... There are no more Cucugnanians than there are fish bones in a turkey.

”--What! There's no one from Cucugnan here? No one? That's impossible!

Look again, more closely....

”--n.o.body, Oh, holy man. Look for yourself, if you think I am joking.

”--My, oh my! Dear, oh dear! I stamped my feet, clenched my hands and cried,--Mercy me!--Then, St Peter continued:

”--Believe me, monsieur Martin, you mustn't take on so, you could easily have a stroke. After all, it's not your fault. You see, your Cucugnanians must, without fear of contradiction, be doing their spell in purgatory.

”--Oh! for charity's sake, great St. Peter, make it so that I can at least see them to give them solace.

”--Willingly, my friend.... Here, put on these sandals, quickly, for the rest of the way is none too smooth.... That's right.... Now, keep going straight on. Can you see a turning over there, at the far end?

You will find a silver door completely covered with black crosses....

On the right hand side.... When you knock, it will be opened unto you.... Bye-bye! Be good and, above all, stay cheerful.”

”And I kept on going ... and kept on going. I was dead beat, and covered in goose flesh; there was nothing to take my mind off things. A small footpath, full of brambles, and s.h.i.+ning rubies and hissing snakes, led me to the silver door.

”I knocked twice.

”--Who is it? asked a hoa.r.s.e, deathly voice.

”--The priest of Cucugnan.