Part 36 (1/2)

EMILE LECLERCQ (_Une fille du peuple_).

She had shown Marcel the portrait of her beloved Rose. ”Yes, she is very pretty,” he had replied, ”but I prefer dark girls ...” Suzanne blushed. He opened his breviary and drew out a card.

--Are you going to show me a dark girl? she said.

He handed it to her without answering.

It was the photograph of a man of about forty, with strongly-marked and characteristic features. The eyes, prominent and slightly veiled, were surrounded with a dark ring, a token of struggle, fatigue and deception. A profile out of a picture of Holbein in every-day dress.

--It is a priest, she cried.

--It is a priest, indeed, answered Marcel. We are recognized in any costume. We cannot conceal our ident.i.ty. Do you know who that is?

--Is it not that monk who has made such a noise? That Dominican who has married, and broken with the Church?

--Yes, Mademoiselle.

The young girl regarded it with curiosity.

--It must have been a violent pa.s.sion to come to that, she said.

--No, it was an idea well resolved upon and matured. No transport of youth carried him away. See, he is no longer young, and the companion he has chosen is very nearly his own age, and he had for her only a tender and holy feeling.

--Why then this uproar and scandal?

--In order to protest aloud against a rule which he did not approve. In our days there are so many cowardly and degenerate characters, that we cannot too greatly admire those who have the courage to proclaim their opinion in the presence of the mob, especially when those opinions shock the brutalized mob; for my part I admire this man; but what I admire still more is the woman who has dared to put her hand in his, and brave the derision of the vulgar, and the calumnies of hypocrites.

--But his vows?

--What is a vow when it is a question of the duty which your conscience dictates? I heard him say one day: ”If, after reaching middle age, I have decided after long reflection to choose a companion, it is not in response to the cry of the senses, but in order to sanctify my life.” He has taken back the word which he had given, as we all do, at an age when we are ignorant of the import, and the consequence of that word. Be a.s.sured that his conscience does not reproach him, for you can see on this fine countenance that his conscience is at rest. Besides, is it the case that G.o.d enjoins celibacy? The celibacy of priests dates only from the year 1010: Christ never speaks about it.

--And so he has broken with all his past, his relations, his world; he has ruined what you men call his future. He must begin his life again.

--And he begins it again in accordance with his inclinations, his needs and his heart: It is never too late to change the road when we discover that we have taken the wrong way. It takes longer time, there is more hards.h.i.+p, but what matters it, provided we attain happiness, the end which we all have in view. Ah, Mademoiselle, how many, like he, would wish to begin their life again, if they found a courageous soul who was willing to accompany them?

The future, do you say? But the future, the present, the past, the whole life lies in the sweet union of hearts. To devote oneself, to renounce everything, to give up everything, even one's illusions, one's beliefs, one's dreams for the loved object, is not a sacrifice: it is the sweetest of joys and the n.o.blest of duties.

He stopped, fearing that he had gone too far, and did not dare to look at Suzanne.

She answered coldly. ”Ah, Monsieur le Cure, you approve of that! I did not think you would have approved of Pere Hyacinth; truly, I am astonished.”

_Monsieur le Cure_! It was the first time Suzanne had called him _Monsieur le Cure_. That name wounded him like an affront. He remembered what he was, and what he must not cease to be in the eyes of the young girl: the Cure!

nothing but the Cure.

And he was sick at heart for several days.

But one fine morning, on coming out from Ma.s.s, his countenance lit up, he uttered a cry of joy and fell into the arms of Abbe Ridoux.

LXII.