Chapter 10

"The fair Eglé chooses her part on a sudden In the twinkling of an eye, she becomes charming."

CHAMPFORT (_Contes_).

"Here is salvation," said Marcel to himself, "the solution of the problem, the end of my misery and shame, the blow which severs this infernal knot which enfolds me and was about to hurry me on to my ruin. God be blessed!" And he turned joyfully to his servant who was watching him:

--Good news! Veronica.

--I congratulate you, sir, she said, perplexed and disturbed. Are you nominated to a better cure? Does Monseigneur give notice of his visit?

--Better than that, Veronica. My excellent and worthy uncle, the Abbé Ridoux, gives notice of his.

--Monsieur le Curé of Saint Nicholas?

--Himself. Do you know him?

--Certainly. He came one day to see Monsieur Fortin (may God keep his soul) regarding a collection for his church. Ah, he has a fine church, it appears, and a famous saint is buried there. My poor defunct master was in the habit of saying that there was not a more agreeable man anywhere in the world, and I easily credited it, for he was always in a good temper. It's he then who has written to you. Well, if he comes here, it will make a little diversion, for we don't often laugh.

--That is wrong, Veronica. A gentle gaiety ought to prevail in the priest's house. Gaiety is the mark of a pure heart and a quiet conscience. Where there is hatred and division there is more room for the spirit of darkness. Our Saviour has said: "Every house divided against itself shall perish."

--He has said so, yes, Monsieur le Curé.

--We must not perish, Veronica.

--I have no wish to do so; therefore I do not cause the war.

--Listen, Veronica. It would be lamentable and scandalous that my uncle might possibly be troubled on his arrival here by our little domestic differences, and particularly that he might suspect the nature of them. We are both of us a little in the wrong; by our each ascribing it to oneself, it will be easy for us to come to an understanding; will it not, Veronica?

--Oh, Monsieur le Curé, we can come to an understanding directly, if you wish it. God says that we must forgive, and I have no malice.

--Then it is agreed, we will talk of our little mutual complaints after supper.

--I ask for nothing better; I am quite at your service.

--And we will celebrate the good news.

--I will take my share in the celebration. Ah, Monsieur le Curé, you do not know me yet; I hope that you will know me better, and you will see that I am not an ill-natured girl. My heart is as young as another's, and when we must laugh, provided that it is decent and without offence, I know how to laugh, and do not give up my share.

--Good, said Marcel to himself, let me flatter this woman. That is the only way of preventing any rumour. I must leave Althausen, I will pass her on to my successor, but I do not want to have an enemy behind me. If you have my secret, you old hypocrite, I will have yours, and I will know what there is at the bottom of your bag of iniquity.

XLIX.

CONFIDENCES.

"To thee I wish to confide this secret, Speak of it to no-one, we must be discreet They love too much to laugh in this unbelieving age."

BABILLOT (_La Mascarade humaine_).

That evening, contrary to his usual custom, the Curé of Althausen had coffee served after dinner, and told his servant to lay two cups.

--You have asked somebody then? she enquired.

--Yes, replied Marcel, I ask you, Veronica.

The woman smiled.

She went and assured herself that the door below was shut and that the shutters were quite closed, put together a bundle of wood which she placed partly on the hearth, and without further invitation, sat down facing her master.

--We are at home, and inquisitive people will not trouble us.

Marcel was offended at thus being placed on a footing of equality with his servant. Nevertheless he did not allow it to be seen. "It is my fault," he thought, and he answered quietly:

--We have no reason to dread inquisitive persons, we are not going to do anything wrong.

--Ah, Jesus, no. But, you know, if they saw your servant sitting at your table, they would not wait to look for the why and wherefore, they would begin to chatter.

--It is true.

--And one likes to be at home when one has anything to say, is it not so, Monsieur le Curé?

Marcel bent his head:

--You are a girl of sense, and that is why I can behave to you as one cannot usually with a ... common housekeeper. I am sure that you understand me. Then, after a moment's hesitation:

--Twice already I have flown into a passion with you, Veronica; it is a serious fault, and I hope you will consent to forgive it.

--Do not speak of that, Monsieur le Curé, I deserved everything that you have said to me. It is for me to ask your pardon for not behaving properly towards you.

--I acknowledge all that you do in my interest: I know how to appreciate all your good qualities, so I pardon you freely.

--Monsieur le Curé is too good.

--No, I am not too good. For if I were so, I should have behaved differently towards you. But you know, there is always a little germ of ingratitude at the bottom of a man's heart. After all, I have considered, and I believe that with a little good will on one side and on the other, we can come to an understanding.

--Yes, I am easy to accommodate.

--Let us save appearances, that is essential.

--You are talking to me like Monsieur Fortin. That suits me. No one could ever reproach me for setting a bad example.

--I know it, Veronica; your behaviour is full of decency and dignity: it is well for the outside world, and as Monsieur Fortin used to say to you, we must wash our dirty linen at home.

--Poor Monsieur Fortin.

--That is what we will do henceforth. Come, Veronica. I have made all my disclosures to you, or very nearly. I have confessed to you my errors, and you know some of my faults as well as I do. Will you not make your little confession to me in your turn? You have finished your coffee? Take a little brandy? There! now sit close to me.

--Monsieur le Curé, one only confesses on one's knees.

--At the confessional before the priest, yes; but it is not thus that I mean, it is not by right of this that I wish to know your little secrets, but by right of a friend.

--I am quite confused, Monsieur le Curé.

--There is no Curé here, there is a friend, a brother, anything you wish, but not a priest. Are you willing?

--I am quite willing.

--You were talking to me lately about my predecessors, and, according to you, their conduct was not irreproachable. What is there then to say regarding them? Oh, don't blush. Answer me.

--What do you want me to tell you?

--They committed faults then?...

--I have told you so, sir,--sometimes--like you.

--Ah, Veronica, the greatest saint is he who sins only seven times a day.

--Seven times!

--Seven times, quite as much. You find, no doubt, that I sin much more, but I am far from being a saint. As to my predecessors, were they no greater saints?

--Saints! Ah, Jesus! Do you wish me to tell you, sir? Well, between ourselves, I believe that there are none but in the calendar.

--Oh, Veronica, Veronica.

--Yes, sir, I believe it in my soul and conscience, and I can add another thing still. If, before they canonized all these saints, they had consulted their servant, perhaps they would not have found a single one of them.

--What! you, the pious Veronica, you say such things?

--One is pious and staid and everything you wish, but one sees what one sees. Monsieur Fortin was accustomed to say that no one is a great man to his _valet de chambre_; and I add, that no one is a saint to his cook. I tell you so.

--But that is blasphemy, Veronica.

--Blasphemy possibly, but it is the truth, Monsieur Marcel.

--Have you then surprised my predecessors in some act of culpable weakness?

--Oh, holy Virgin! I did not surprise them, it was they on the contrary who surprised me.

--You!... And how then?

--Monsieur le Curé, you don't understand me. You were speaking of their weakness, I meant to say that they had taken advantage of mine.

--Ah, here we are, thought Marcel. Is it possible? What! of your weakness? these ecclesiastics?

--Sir. You are an ecclesiastic too and yet ... if Mademoiselle Suzanne Durand....

--Don't go on, Veronica. I have asked you not to recall that remembrance to me. It is wrong of you to forget that.

--Sweet Jesus! I don't want to offend you. I wanted to make you understand that since you, you have erred, the others....

--And what have they done?

--Ah, it is very simple, Lord Jesus!

--Let us see.

--I hardly know if I ought to tell you that, I am quite ashamed of it.

--Come, let us see, speak ... you have nothing to be afraid of before me ... speak, Veronica, speak.

--Where must I begin?

--Where you like; at the beginning, I suppose.

--There are several of them.

--Several beginnings?

--Yes; I have had three masters, you know.

--Well, with the last one, with Monsieur Fortin, that worthy man whom I knew slightly.

--He was no better than the rest, Jesus! no.

--The Abbé Fortin?

--Lord God, yes, the Abbé Fortin!

--What has he done then?

--My God ... you know well, that which one does when one ... is a man ... and has a warm temperament.

--To you, Veronica, to you?

--Alas, sweet Jesus. Ah, Monsieur le Curé, I am so good-natured, I don't know how to resist. And then, you know, it is so hard for a poor servant to resist her master, particularly when he is a priest, who holds all your confidence, and possesses all your secrets, and with whom you live in a certain kind of intimacy; and besides a priest is cautious, and one may be quite sure that nothing of what goes on inside the parsonage, will get out through the parsonage door.

--Assuredly; he will not go and noise his faults abroad.

--And so with us, the priests' servants, who could be more cautious than we are? We have as much in it as our masters, have we not? and a sin concealed is a sin half pardoned.

--Yes, Veronica, it was said long ago: "The scandal of the world is what causes the offence. And 'tis not sinning to sin in silence."

--Those are words of wisdom; who is it who said so?

--A very clever man, called Monsieur Tartuffe.

--I see that. Be must have been a priest, at least?

--He was not an ecclesiastic, but he was somewhat of a churchman.

--That is just as I thought. Certainly we must hide our faults. Who would believe in us without that? I say _us_, for I am also somewhat a church-_woman_.

--Undoubtedly.

--I have spent my life among ecclesiastics. My father was beadle at St. Eprive's and my mother the Curé's housekeeper.

--That is your title.

--Is it not? Then I have the honour to be your maid-servant, and I am the head of the association of the Holy Virgin.

--No one could contest your claims, Veronica; add to that you are a worthy and cautious person, and let us return to Monsieur Fortin. Ah, I cannot contain my astonishment. Monsieur Fortin!... And how did he go to work to ... seduce you? He must have used much deceit.

--All the angels of heavens are witnesses to it, sir, and you shall judge.

L.

MAMMOSA VIRGO!

"The monk could not refrain from admiring the freshness and plumpness of this woman. For a long time he made his eyes speak, and he managed it so well that in the end he inspired the lady with the same desire with which he was burning."

BOCCACIO (_La Décaméron_).

Veronica took several sips of the brandy which remained at the bottom of the cup, collected her thoughts for a moment, and casting her eyes down with a modest air, she proceeded:

--The good Monsieur Fortin, as perhaps you know, used to drink a little of an evening.

--Oh, he used to drink!

--Yes, not every day, but every now and then; two or three times a week: but you know ... quite nicely, properly, without making any noise; he was gayer than usual, that was all. But when he reached that point, though he was ordinarily as timid as a lay-brother, he became as bold as a gendarme, and he was very ... how shall I say?... very enterprising. I may say that between ourselves, Monsieur le Curé, you understand that strangers never knew anything about it. If by chance anyone came and asked for him at these times, I used to say that he had gone out, or that he was ill. One day, I was finely put out. Christopher Gilquin's daughter came to call him to her mother who was at the point of death. He took it into his head to try and kiss her. The little one, who was hardly fifteen, did not know what it meant. I made her understand that it was to console her, and through pure affection for her and for her mamma. It passed muster. But when she had gone I gave it to him finely, and I made him go to bed ... and sharply too.

--And he obeyed you?

--I should think so, and without a word. He saw very well he was wrong. One evening then ... I had been in his service hardly six months--I must tell you first that he had looked at me very queerly for some time; I let him do so and said to myself: "Here is another of them who will do like the rest." And I waited for it to happen. I was better-looking then than I am now: I was ten years younger, Monsieur le Curé.

--Ten years younger! but you were thirty then. How could you be a Curé's servant at that age? Our rules are opposed to it.

--I passed as his relation. And that was tolerated. Besides, when Monseigneur made his visitation, I did not show myself ... for form's sake, for Monseigneur knew very well that I was there. I met him once on the stairs; he took hold of my chin, looked at me very hard, and said in a sly way: "Here is this little _spiritual sister_ then; faith, she is a pretty little rogue." I was so bashful. I asked Monsieur Fortin what a _spiritual sister_ was, and he told me that they used formerly to call women so who lived with priests. They say that all had two or three _spiritual sisters_. What indecency! I should not have allowed that.

--Spiritual sister is not exactly the expression, said Marcel, it is _adoptive sister_, because they were adopted.[1] Alas, Veronica, the clergy were slightly dissolute in former times: it is no longer so in our days, in which so many holy ecclesiastics give an example of the rarest virtues.

--Oh, three wives, Monsieur le Curé! three wives! sweet Jesus! they must have torn out each other's eyes.

--No, Veronica. They agreed very well among themselves. They had different ideas at that time to what we have now.

--One evening then Monsieur Fortin had drunk at table a little more than usual. I was going to bring the dessert and I leaned over to take up a dish which was before him. As the dish was heavy and rather far from my hand, I supported myself on the back of his chair, and involuntarily I rubbed against his body with my stomach. "Oh, oh," he said, "if that happens again I shall pinch that big breast."

--What! Monsieur Fortin used that expression?

--Yes, sir, and many others besides. I blush when I think of it.... Then I looked at him quite astounded. He began to laugh. I went to look for the cheese, and I passed again beside him on purpose, and supported myself on his chair again to place it on the table. "Ah," he cried, "she is beginning again. _O, mammosa virgo_!"--he repeated it so many times to me that I remember it--"so much the worse, I keep my promises." And he pinched me.

--Where?

--Where he had said. He made no error. I blushed for shame and drew back as quickly as possible: "How can he," I said to myself, "use Latin words to deceive poor women?" Then he cried: "Are you ticklish?"--Yes, sir. "Ah, you are ticklish. The big Veronica is ticklish! Who would have believed it?" And he laughed, but I saw clearly that his laugh was put on, and that something else preoccupied him. And from that moment, each time that I passed near him and stooped down to clear away, he tried to pinch me where he could: "And there," he said, "are you ticklish? are you ticklish there?" I was so stupefied that I could not get over it. "It is a little too much, Holy Mother of God," I said to myself, "a man like him! to pinch me in this way! who would believe it! One would not credit it, if one saw it! Ah, I will see how far he will go, and to-morrow I will give him an account." At last, when I saw that he would not stop it, and that he was going too far, I said to him severely: Monsieur le Curé, if you continue to tease me in this way, you shall see something.

--What shall I see? he said getting up suddenly, I want to see it directly. Ah, _mammosa virgo_! you threaten your master! Wait, wait, I will teach you respect.

And, pretending to punish me, he caught hold of as much as he could grasp with both hands; yes, sir, as much as he could. Ah, I was very angry, God can tell you so.

--And did he stop?

--Not at all, sir; quite the contrary. I escaped from his hands, and I turned round the table saying: "Ah, sweet Jesus, what is going to happen? Divine Saviour! How far will he dare to go?" To complete the misfortune, I let the lamp fall, and it went out. Then he put himself into a great passion, and soon caught me. "You have upset the oil," he cried. "I will teach you to spill the oil." He held me with all his might. Then I got angry in earnest, in earnest, you know.

--Well?

--Well, that was useless. I was taken like a poor fly. It was too late. It was all over.

--All over!

--All over. Monsieur Fortin let me go then. Ah! sir, if you knew how ashamed I was.

[Footnote 1: They are still called _sisters agapetae_ or _subintroduced_ women. Perhaps it is not unnecessary to recall the fact that Gregory VII was the first of the popes to impose celibacy on the clergy. He nullified acts performed by married priests and compelled them to choose between their wives and the priesthood. In spite of this, and in spite of excommunication with which he threatened them, many kept their wives secretly, the rest contented themselves with concubines. Besides, the majority of the bishops, who lived after the same manner, tolerated for bribes infractions of the rule by the lower and higher clergy. The Council of Paris, in 1212, forbade them to receive money, proceeding from this source. At the present time, however, the Catholic priests of the Greeks-United, those of Libar and different Oriental communions, all under papal authority, not only may, but must take wives.

St. Paul said: "Choose for priest him who shall have but one wife." Would he find many of them at the present time?]

LI.

CHAMBER MORALITY.

"Practise moderation and prudence with regard to certain virtues which may ruin the health of the body."

THE REV. FATHER LAURENT SCUPOLI (_Le Combat Spirituel_).

--What a strange story, said Marcel. Oh, Veronica. But did you not make more resistance?

--Resistance! I was lame from it for more than a fortnight. I walked like a duck. People said to me: "What is the matter with you, Mademoiselle Veronica? They say you have broken something!" Ah, if they had suspected what it was.

--What a scandal! Monsieur Fortin!

--He was stronger than I; but I don't give him all the blame. We must be just. It was my fault too. That is what comes of playing with fire.

--But it seems to me, Veronica, that you displayed a little willingness.

--Ah, Monsieur le Curé, you are scolding me for telling you all this so plainly. Was it not better for me to act thus, than to let Monsieur Fortin run right and left and expose himself to all sorts of affronts, as some do? That man had a temperament of fire. And that temperament must have expended itself on someone. The business about little Gilquin made me reflect. I sacrificed myself, and I acted as much in his interests as in the interests of religion.

--And does not temperament speak in you also, Veronica?

--Ah, that is only told in confession.

--Nevertheless it is fine to rule your passions, to be chaste.

--Ah, yes, as you were saying once when I came in: "Chaste without hope." All that is rubbish. God has well done all that he has done; I can't get away from that.

--How can you bring the holy name of God into these abominable things?

--Abominable! that is rubbish again. Monsieur Fortin and I often asked ourselves what evil that could do to God, when neither of us did any to other people. Monsieur Fortin used to say to me: "Are we doing evil to our neighbours, Veronica?" "Not that I know of, Monsieur le Curé." "Are we causing a scandal?" "Ah, Jesus, no, Monsieur le Curé." "Are we setting a bad example?" "No, Monsieur le Curé, no." "Are we populating the land with orphans?" "Oh, as to that, no." "Well then, in what way can we be offending God?" That was very well said all the same, the more so as his health depended on it.

--But, replied Marcel, wishing to change the conversation which was verging upon dangerous ground, have you not told me that you have been in the service of ecclesiastics for nearly five-and-twenty years. That appears to me to be very extraordinary for, after all, you are hardly forty.

--Thirty-nine, corrected Veronica, who was past forty-five.

--Reason the more.

--That is true, Monsieur le Curé, but I began early. At fifteen I went to the Abbé Braqueminet's.

--I was acquainted with a Braqueminet, who was Bishop _in partibus_. A very worthy prelate.

--That he is, sir; he went to America.

--Come! this is too much, Veronica; you want to make a fool of me. At fifteen, do you say, that is too much! At thirty you were with the Abbé Fortin. I have no objection to that, since you passed as his relation, although with regard to this, our rules are precise, and we cannot take a housekeeper, till she is over a certain age. Sometimes, it is true, they smuggle in a few years: but fifteen years!

--It is the exact truth, however, sir. I was fifteen years old, and no more at the Abbé Braqueminet's, and you will believe me, when I tell you that I was his niece.

-Monseigneur Braqueminet's niece! you, Veronica?

-Yes, sir, his niece; the Holy Virgin who hears me, will tell you that I was his niece, and I will explain to you how.

LII.

THE POSSET.

"This little maid, so fair, with teasing ways, Was made to be a lovely man's support. For many a foolish thing in former days He did to gain a face less fair than thine."

BÉRANGER (_la Célibataire_).