Part 26 (1/2)
”Ah! Torturer!” exclaimed the patient.
”Remember,” said the vicar, ”that our Lord forgave His torturers.”
”They were not barbarous,” said the abbe.
”That's a wicked word,” said the vicar.
”You must not torment a dying man for his jokes,” said my good master.
”But I suffer horribly; that man a.s.sa.s.sinates me and I die twofold. The first time was by the hands of a Jew.”
”What does he mean?” asked the vicar.
”It is best, reverend sir,” said the barber, ”not to trouble yourself about it. You must never want to hear the talk of a patient. They are only dreams.”
”Coquebert,” said the vicar, ”you don't speak well. Patients'
confessions must be listened to, and some Christians who never in all their lives said a good word may, at the end, p.r.o.nounce words which open Paradise to them.”
”I spoke temporally only,” said the barber.
”Monsieur le Cure,” I said, ”the Abbe Coignard, my good master, does not wander in his mind, and it is but too true that he has been murdered by a Jew of the name of Mosaide.”
”In that case,” replied the vicar, ”he has to see a special favour of G.o.d, who willed that he perishes by the hand of a nephew of those who crucified His Son. The behaviour of Providence is always admirable. M.
Coquebert, can I go to my vineyard?”
”You can, sir,” replied the barber. ”The wound is not a good one, but yet not of the kind by which one dies at once. It's one of those wounds which play with the wounded like a cat with a mouse, and with such play time may be gained.”
”That's well,” said the vicar. ”Let's thank G.o.d, my son, that He lets you live, but life is precarious and transitory. One must always be ready to quit it.”
My good tutor replied earnestly:
”To be on the earth without being of it, to possess without being in possession, for the fas.h.i.+on of this world pa.s.ses away.”
Picking up his shears and his basket, the vicar said:
”Better than by your cloak and shoes, which I see on yonder cupboard, I recognise by your speech that you belong to the Church and lead a holy life. Have you been ordained?”
”He is a priest,” I said, ”a doctor of divinity and a professor of eloquence.”
”Of which diocese?” queried the vicar.
”Of Seez in Normandy, a suffragan of Rouen.”
”An important ecclesiastical province,” said the vicar, ”but less important by antiquity and fame than the diocese of Reims, of which I am a priest.”
And he went away. M. Jerome Coignard pa.s.sed the day easily. Jahel wanted to remain the night with him. At about eleven o'clock I left the house of M. Coquebert and went in search of a bed at the inn of M. Gaulard.
I found M. d'Asterac in the market place. His shadow in the moonlight covered nearly all the surface. He laid his hands on my shoulder as he was wont to do, and said with his customary gravity: