Part 3 (2/2)

”These discussions are miserable, and the excuses I make for my filthinesses are odious,” he said to himself, and a flame of enthusiasm sprang up within him.

How doubt the truth of dogmas, how deny the divine power of the Church, for she commands a.s.sent?

First she has her superhuman art and her mysticism, then she is most wonderful in the persistent folly of conquered heresies. All since the world began have had the flesh as their spring-board. Logically and humanly speaking they should have triumphed, for they allowed man and woman to satisfy their pa.s.sions, saying to themselves there was no sin in these, even sanctifying them as the Gnostics, rendering homage to G.o.d by the foulest uncleanness.

All have suffered s.h.i.+pwreck. The Church, unbending in this matter, has remained upright and entire. She orders the body to be silent, and the soul to suffer, and contrary to all probability, humanity listens to her, and sweeps away like a dung-heap the seductive joys proposed to her.

Again, the vitality of the Church is decision, which preserves her in spite of the unfathomable stupidity of her sons. She has resisted the disquieting folly of the clergy, and has not even been broken up by the awkwardness and lack of ability in her defenders, a very strong point.

”No, the more I think of her,” he cried, ”the more I think her prodigious, unique, the more I am convinced that she alone holds the truth, that outside her are only weaknesses of mind, impostures, scandals. The Church is the divine breeding ground, the heavenly dispensary of souls; she gives them suck, nourishes them, and heals them; she bids them understand, when the hour of sorrow comes, that true life begins, not at birth, but at death. The Church is indefectible, before all things admirable, she is great--

”Yes, but then we must follow her directions and practise the sacraments she orders!”

And Durtal, shaking his head, gave himself no further answer.

CHAPTER III.

Before his conversion he had said like all unbelievers: ”If I believed that Jesus Christ is G.o.d, and that eternal life is not a decoy, I would not hesitate to change all my habits, to follow as far as possible the rules of religion, and, in any case, to live chaste.” And he was surprised that people he knew, who were in these conditions, did not maintain an att.i.tude higher than his own. He who had so long indulgently forgiven himself became singularly intolerant, so soon as he had to do with a Catholic.

He now understood the injustice of his judgments, and confessed that between faith and practice was a gulf difficult to overpa.s.s.

He did not like to discuss this question with himself, but it returned and took possession of him all the same, and he was obliged to admit the meanness of his arguments, the despicable reasons for his resistance.

He was still honest enough to say: ”I am no longer a child; if I have Faith, if I admit Catholicism, I cannot conceive it as lukewarm and unfixed, warmed up again and again in the saucepan of a false zeal. I will have no compromise or truce, no alternations of debauch and communions, no stages of licentiousness and piety, no, all or nothing; to change from top to bottom, or not change at all.”

Then he drew back in alarm, endeavoured to escape the part he was about to take, endeavoured to exculpate himself, cavilling for hours, invoking the most wretched motives for remaining as he was, and not budging a jot.

”What am I to do? If I do not obey orders, which I feel with increasing force, I am preparing for myself a life of uneasiness and remorse, for I know well I ought not to remain for ever on the threshold, but to penetrate into the sanctuary and stay there. And if I make up my mind--no indeed--for then I must bind myself to a heap of observances, bend to a series of rules, a.s.sist at ma.s.s on Sunday, abstain on Friday, live like a bigot, and look like a fool.”

And then to help his revolt, he thought of the air, the look of people who frequented the churches; for two men who looked intelligent and clean, how many were without doubt rascals and impostors!

Almost all had a side-long look, an oily voice, downcast eyes, immovable spectacles, clothes like sacristans as if of black wood, almost all told thin beads ostentatiously, and with more strategy and more knavery than the wicked, took toll from their neighbours on leaving G.o.d.

The devout women were still less rea.s.suring, they invaded the church, walking about as if quite at home, disturbing everybody, upsetting chairs, knocking against you without begging pardon; then they knelt down with much ado, in the att.i.tude of contrite angels, murmured interminable paternosters, and left the church more arrogant and sour than before.

”It is not encouraging to have to mix with this flock of pious geese,”

he exclaimed.

But soon, against his will, he made answer to himself: ”You have nothing to do with others, were you more humble, these people would certainly seem less offensive; at any rate they have the courage you lack, they are not ashamed of their faith, and are not afraid to kneel to G.o.d in public.”

And Durtal remained dumfounded, for he had to admit that the riposte struck home. It was clear his humility was at fault, but what was worse, he could not free himself from human respect.

He was afraid of being taken for a fool; the prospect of being seen on his knees, in church, made his hair stand on end; the idea, that, if he ever had to communicate, he would have to rise and go to the altar in the sight of all, was intolerable to him.

”If that moment ever come it will be hard to bear,” said he; ”and yet I am an idiot, for what have I to do with the opinion of people I do not know?” but much as he might repeat that his alarms were absurd, he could not get over them, or free himself from the fear of ridicule.

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