UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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 tre !3al?ac 
 
 COUNTRY LIFE 
 
 VOLUME II
 
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 . 7i a

 
 PUBLIC CONFESSION OF MADAME 
 GRASLIN 
 
 The dying woman appeared, ***** 
 She knelt upon a cushion, clasped her hands, 
 and was silent for a few moments, as if collecting 
 strength to speak front some spring supplied by 
 Heaven. At that moment there was something 
 indefinably terrifying in the silence.
 
 THE NOVELS 
 
 OF 
 
 HONORE DE BALZAC 
 
 NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME 
 COMPLETELY TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH 
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 BY G. BURNHAM IVES 
 
 WITH FIVE ETCHINGS BY CHARLES GIROUX, AFTER 
 PAINTINGS BY DANIEL HERNANDEZ 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME 
 
 PRINTED ONLY FOR SUBSCRIBERS BY 
 
 GEORGE BARRIE & SON, PHILADELPHIA
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY GEORGE BARRIE * SON
 
 
 o 
 
 
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 CO 
 
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 O 
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 189968
 
 VERONIQUE 
 
 In Lower Limoges, at the corner of Rue de la 
 Vieille-Poste and Rue de la Cite, there stood, thirty 
 years ago, one of those shops in which nothing 
 seems to have been changed since the Middle Ages. 
 Huge flagstones, broken in a thousand places, laid 
 upon the ground which showed damp in spots, would 
 have caused the fall of anybody who had failed to 
 notice the depressions and elevations of that strange 
 flooring. The dusty walls exhibited a curious mix- 
 ture of wood and brick, stone and iron, thrown to- 
 gether with a solidity due to age, perhaps to chance. 
 For more than a hundred years, the ceiling, consist- 
 ing of enormous timbers, had bent without breaking 
 beneath the weight of the upper floors. Those floors, 
 built en colombage, were covered on the outside with 
 slates nailed in such way as to represent geomet- 
 rical figures, and presented an ingenuous type of the 
 bourgeois structures of the olden time. Of the 
 windows, set in wooden frames and once embel- 
 lished with carvings, long since destroyed by the 
 vagaries of the weather, not one was perpendicular; 
 some bulged out, others retreated, others seemed to 
 
 (3)
 
 4 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 be falling apart; all of them had in their yawning 
 cracks dirt brought thither by the rain, Heaven 
 knows how, and in the spring a few sickly flowers 
 grew there, shrinking plants and slender grasses. 
 The roof and window-sills were velvety with moss. 
 The pillar at the corner, although built of composite 
 masonry, that is to say, of bricks mixed with stones 
 and flint, alarmed one by its curvature: it seemed 
 that it must give way some day under the weight of 
 the house, the gable of which overhung about six 
 inches. So that the municipal authorities, the de- 
 partments of streets and buildings, purchased the 
 building and pulled it down, in order to enlarge the 
 square. This pillar, situated at the junction of the 
 two streets, commended itself to persons interested 
 in the antiquities of Limoges by reason of a pretty 
 little carved niche, in which stood a Virgin, mutilated 
 during the Revolution. Bourgeois with archaeologi- 
 cal leanings discovered traces of the stone ledge in- 
 tended to hold the candelabra in which the public 
 piety placed its lighted tapers, its votive offerings 
 and flowers. 
 
 At the rear of the shop there was a decayed 
 wooden staircase leading to the two upper floors and 
 the garret above them. The house, which adjoined 
 the houses on each side, had no depth, and received 
 no light except through the windows. Each floor 
 contained only two small rooms, lighted each by one 
 window, which in one case looked on Rue de la 
 Cite and in the other on Rue de la Vieille-Poste. In 
 the Middle Ages no mechanic had a more comfortable
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 5 
 
 dwelling than that. It had evidently once belonged 
 to smiths, armorers, cutlers, to some masters whose 
 occupation did not dislike the open air; it was im- 
 possible to see there, unless the iron-bound shutters 
 were removed from both fronts, there being a door 
 on each side of the pillar, as in many shops located 
 at the corner of two streets. At each door, just in- 
 side the fine stone threshold, worn smooth by cen- 
 turies, began a low wall, breast-high, on top of which 
 was a groove, corresponding to a groove in the 
 timber above, upon which the upper walls rested. 
 From time immemorial, there had been heavy 
 shutters to slide in those grooves; they were 
 fastened, when closed, by enormous bands of iron 
 bolted on; and, when the doors were closed and 
 secured by similar means, the house was trans- 
 formed into a fortress. Upon examining the interior, 
 which, during the first twenty years of this century, 
 the people of Limoges were accustomed to see filled 
 with old iron, copper, springs, wheel-tires, bells, and 
 metal of all sorts from demolished buildings, those 
 persons who were interested in this relic of the old 
 city noticed the location of a forge flue, indicated by 
 a long streak of soot, a detail which confirmed the 
 conjectures of antiquarians as to the original destina- 
 tion of the shop. On the first floor were a bedroom 
 and the kitchen; the second had two bedrooms; the 
 garret was used as a store-room for more delicate 
 objects than those tossed pell-mell about the shop. 
 
 This house was at first rented, then sold to one 
 Sauviat, a travelling peddler, who, from 1792 to
 
 6 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 1796, covered the country within a radius of fifty 
 leagues about Auvergne, exchanging pottery, plat- 
 ters, plates, glasses, in a word, household articles 
 required by the poorest families, for old iron, copper, 
 lead, metal of any sort, whatever disguise it might 
 have assumed. The Auvergnat gave an earthen- 
 ware saucepan worth two sous for a pound of lead, 
 or for two pounds of iron, a broken spade, a broken 
 hoe, or an old cracked kettle; and, being always the 
 judge in his own cause, he weighed his junk himself. 
 After the third year, Sauviat added the trade of cop- 
 persmith to his other trade. In 1793 ne was able to 
 purchase a chateau sold as national property, and 
 pulled it to pieces; the profit he made by that trans- 
 action he duplicated doubtless at several points in his 
 sphere of operations; later, these first essays sug- 
 gested to him the idea of proposing to one of his 
 fellow-provincials in Paris a similar business on a 
 grand scale. Thus, the Black Band, so famous by 
 reason of its demolitions, originated in the brain of 
 old Sauviat the peddler, whom all Limoges saw for 
 twenty-seven years in that poor shop, among his 
 cracked bells, his balances, his chains, his iron rods, 
 his twisted leaden gutters, his old metal of all sorts; 
 we must do him the justice to say that he never 
 knew of the celebrity or the extensive operations of 
 that association; he profited by it only in proportion 
 to the funds entrusted by him to the famous house 
 of Brezac. 
 
 Tired of travelling about from fair to fair and 
 village to village, the Auvergnat settled down in
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 7 
 
 Limoges, where, in 1797, he married the daughter 
 of a widowed coppersmith named Champagnac. 
 When his father-in-law died, he bought the house 
 in which he had established himself permanently as 
 a dealer in junk, after carrying on the trade for 
 three years longer in the country, in company with 
 his wife. Sauviat was approaching his fiftieth year 
 when he married old Champagnac's daughter, who 
 was not less than thirty. Although she was not 
 beautiful, nor even pretty, La Champagnac was 
 born in Auvergne, and the patois was a mutual 
 attraction; then, too, she had the stout frame that 
 enables women to endure the severest toil, and she 
 accompanied Sauviat in his wanderings. She carried 
 iron or lead on her back, and drew the wretched cart 
 full of pottery with which her husband plied his 
 disguised usury. Of dark, swarthy complexion, in 
 perfect health, La Champagnac showed, when she 
 laughed, white teeth as broad and long as almonds; 
 she had, too, the bust and hips of those women 
 whom nature has formed for mothers. The failure 
 of that stout, healthy creature to be married earlier 
 in life must be attributed to the No dowry 1 of Har- 
 pagon, which her father practised, although he had 
 never read Moliere. Sauviat did not take fright at 
 the No dowry; a man of fifty was not likely to raise 
 questions of that sort, and then, his wife would save 
 him the expense of a servant. He made no addi- 
 tion to the furniture of his bedroom, where, from 
 the day of his wedding to the day he moved out, 
 there was never anything more than a four-poster
 
 8 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 bed with a fluted valance and curtains of green 
 serge, a chest, a commode, four armchairs, a table, 
 and a mirror, all brought from different localities. 
 The upper part of the chest contained a service of 
 pewter-plate of which no two pieces were alike. 
 Everyone can imagine the aspect of the kitchen 
 which adjoined the bedroom. 
 
 Neither husband nor wife knew how to read, a 
 trifling defect in their education, which did not 
 prevent their being wonderfully clever at figures, 
 and carrying on the most flourishing trade imagin- 
 able. Sauviat purchased nothing which he was not 
 certain of being able to dispose of at a profit of a 
 hundred per cent. To obviate the necessity of keep- 
 ing books and an office, he bought and sold exclu- 
 sively for cash. He had, moreover, such an accurate 
 memory that, if an object remained in his shop 
 five years, he, and his wife too, could give you, 
 almost to a sou, the price he paid for it, with 
 interest added each year. Except while she was 
 attending to her housekeeping duties, La Sauviat 
 was always seated on a rickety wooden chair with 
 her back against the corner pillar; there she 
 would sit and knit, watching the passers-by, keep- 
 ing an eye on her old junk, selling it, weighing 
 it, and delivering it herself, if Sauviat were away 
 upon a purchasing trip. At dawn the junk-dealer 
 would be heard working at his shutters; the dog 
 would run into the street, and soon La Sauviat 
 would appear and assist her man to place upon 
 the natural shelves formed by the low walls in
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 9 
 
 Rue de la Vieille-Poste and Rue de la Cite, bells 
 large and small, old springs, broken gun-barrels, the 
 small trash of their trade, which served as a sign 
 and gave a paltry aspect enough to that shop in 
 which there frequently was twenty thousand francs' 
 worth of lead, steel, and bell-metal. 
 
 The quondam peddler and his wife never spoke of 
 their wealth; they concealed it as a malefactor con- 
 ceals a crime; they were long suspected of clipping 
 louis d'or and silver crowns. When Champagnac 
 died, the Sauviats returned no inventory; they 
 searched, with the cunning of rats, every corner of 
 his house, left it as bare as a corpse, and sold 
 the coppersmith's stock in their own shop. Once 
 a year, in December, Sauviat went to Paris, always 
 by the public conveyance. So that his inquisitive 
 neighbors concluded that the junk-dealer made his 
 own investments in Paris, in order to conceal the 
 amount of his fortune. It was known later that, by 
 the advice of one of the most eminent dealers in 
 metals, an Auvergnat like himself, with whom he 
 had been very intimate in his youth, he placed his 
 funds advantageously with the house of Brezac, 
 the corner-stone of that famous association known 
 as the Black Band, which was formed, as we have 
 said, at Sauviat's suggestion, and of which he was 
 one of the founders. 
 
 Sauviat was a short, fat man, with a careworn 
 face, endowed by nature with an honest expres- 
 sion which charmed the customer, and which was 
 of great assistance to him in selling his wares
 
 10 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 to advantage. The lack of warmth in his asser- 
 tions, and the utter indifference of his bearing, 
 materially assisted his pretensions. His ruddy 
 complexion could hardly be distinguished beneath 
 the black metallic dust with which his pock-marked 
 face and his curly hair were covered. His fore- 
 head did not lack distinction, it resembled the clas- 
 sic forehead imputed by all painters to Saint Peter, 
 the least refined, the most plebeian, and also the 
 shrewdest of the apostles. His hands were those of 
 the untiring worker, large and thick and square- 
 fingered, and seamed by deep cracks. His chest 
 was a solid mass of muscle. He never laid aside 
 his peddler's costume: heavy hobnailed shoes, blue 
 stockings, knitted by his wife, and concealed be- 
 neath leather gaiters; bottle-green velvet breeches, 
 plaid waistcoat, from which depended the copper 
 key of his silver watch attached to an iron chain, 
 which use made as shiny and polished as steel, 
 a jacket with short skirts made of velvet like that 
 of the breeches, and around his neck a necktie of 
 figured cotton, frayed by the rubbing of his beard. 
 On Sundays and holidays Sauviat wore a frock-coat 
 of wine-colored cloth, so well cared for that he pur- 
 chased a new one only twice in twenty years. 
 
 The life of a galley-slave may be considered 
 luxurious compared with that of the Sauviats; they 
 ate meat only on church festival days. Before 
 giving up the money necessary for their daily sub- 
 sistence, La Sauviat would fumble in the two pockets 
 hidden between her skirt and her petticoat, and she
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE II 
 
 never produced aught but worn, clipped coins, 
 crowns of six francs or of fifty sous, which she gazed 
 at despairingly before changing one of them. Most 
 of the time the Sauviats contented themselves with 
 herring, red peas, cheese, hard-boiled eggs mixed 
 with lettuce, and vegetables cooked in the least 
 expensive way. They never laid in a supply of 
 anything, except a few bunches of garlic or onions, 
 which nothing could spoil and which cost almost 
 nothing. The little wood which they used in winter 
 La Sauviat bought from the itinerant dealers who 
 passed the door, a day's supply at once. At seven 
 o'clock in the winter, at nine in summer, the house- 
 hold was in bed, the shop closed, and guarded by a 
 huge dog, who stole his living in the kitchens of the 
 neighborhood. Mere Sauviat did not spend three 
 francs for candles in a year. 
 
 The sober, toilsome life of these people was 
 enlivened by a single joy, a joy that came to 
 them in due course of nature, and for which they 
 were guilty of their only known extravagance. 
 
 In May, 1802, La Sauviat had a daughter. She 
 brought the child into the world unaided, and at- 
 tended to her household duties five days later. She 
 nursed the child, sitting in her chair, in the open air, 
 and selling old iron with the little one at her breast. 
 As her milk cost nothing, the child was not weaned 
 for two years, and was the better for it. Veronique 
 became the loveliest child in all the lower town, the 
 passers-by stopped to look at her. Thereupon the 
 neighbors began to detect some traces of natural
 
 12 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 feeling in old Sauviat, whom they had supposed to 
 be entirely devoid of anything of the sort. While 
 his wife was preparing dinner, the junk-dealer would 
 hold the little one in his arms, and rock it, singing 
 snatches of Auvergnat ditties. Sometimes the work- 
 men noticed him standing perfectly motionless, 
 gazing at Veronique, asleep on her mother's lap. 
 For his daughter he softened his harsh voice, and 
 he wiped his hands on his breeches before taking 
 her. When Veronique tried to walk, her father 
 would stoop and station himself four or five steps 
 away from her, holding out his hands and making 
 grimaces that imparted a joyous expression to the 
 deep, metallic folds of his stern and forbidding 
 features. That man of lead and iron and copper 
 became a man of flesh and blood and bones once 
 more. If he were sitting with his back against his 
 pillar, motionless as a statue, a cry from Veronique 
 would make him start; he would rush through the 
 heaps of old iron to find her, for she passed her 
 childhood playing with the debris of demolished 
 chateaux piled in the dark recesses of that vast shop, 
 without ever injuring herself; she also went out to 
 play in the street or at the neighbors' houses, but 
 her mother never lost sight of her. 
 
 It may be as well to state that the Sauviats were 
 eminently religious. When the Revolution was at 
 its height, Sauviat observed Sundays and festivals. 
 On two occasions he nearly lost his head for going 
 to hear mass said by a priest who had not taken the 
 oath. At last he was imprisoned, justly accused of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 13 
 
 forwarding the flight of a bishop whose life he had 
 saved. Luckily, the travelling junk-dealer knew all 
 about files and iron bars, so that he was able to 
 escape; but he was condemned to death by default, 
 and, we may say parenthetically, he never appeared 
 to purge himself of the default, but died in his bed. 
 His wife shared his pious sentiments. The family 
 avarice yielded only to the voice of religion. The 
 old junk-dealers provided the consecrated bread with 
 scrupulous exactness, and contributed to the offer- 
 tory. If the vicar of Saint-Etienne came to them to 
 ask alms, Sauviat or his wife would go at once, 
 without discussion or wry faces, to fetch what they 
 considered their proper contribution for the poor of 
 the parish. The mutilated Virgin on their pillar was 
 always, after 1799, decorated with box at Easter. 
 In the flower season, those who passed the shop 
 would see her decked with fresh nosegays, in blue- 
 glass vessels, especially after Veronique was born. 
 On the days of religious processions, the Sauviats 
 were careful to have their house draped with black 
 cloth and flowers, and they contributed to the erec- 
 tion and decoration of the street altar, the pride of 
 their corner. 
 
 Veronique Sauviat therefore received the educa- 
 tion of a Christian. From the age of seven she 
 had for her teacher an Auvergnat Gray Nun, to 
 whom the Sauviats had rendered some trifling ser- 
 vices. Both of them, being very ready to oblige so 
 long as nothing but their personal efforts or their 
 time was concerned, were excellent neighbors, after
 
 14 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the manner of poor people, who generally give their 
 services with much warmth. The Gray Nun taught 
 Veronique to read and write, she instructed her in 
 the history of God's people, the catechism, the Old 
 and New Testament, and the rudiments of arith- 
 metic. That was all; the sister thought that it 
 would be enough, but it was too much. 
 
 At nine years of age, Veronique's beauty was a 
 source of amazement throughout the quarter. Every- 
 one admired a face which might some day be a wor- 
 thy subject for the brush of painters who were most 
 earnest in their quest of ideal beauty. She was 
 nicknamed the Little Virgin, and she promised to 
 be well-made and fair. Her madonna-like face 
 for the popular voice had well named her was com- 
 plemented by an abundance of fine light hair, which 
 set off the purity of her features. Whoever has 
 seen Titian's sublime little Virgin in his great picture 
 of the Presentation at the Temple, will understand 
 what Veronique was in her childhood: the same art- 
 less innocence, the same seraphic astonishment in 
 her eyes, the same noble yet simple manner, the 
 same infantile carriage. At the age of eleven she 
 had the small-pox, and owed her life solely to the 
 care of Sister Marthe. During the two months that 
 their child was in danger, the Sauviats allowed the 
 whole quarter to judge of the depth of their affec- 
 tion for her. Sauviat ceased to attend sales, he 
 passed all his time in the shop, going up to his 
 daughter's room and down again every moment, 
 and sitting up with her all night, in company with
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 15 
 
 his wife. His silent grief seemed so intense that no 
 one dared speak to him; the neighbors gazed com- 
 passionately at him, but confined their inquiries for 
 news to Sister Marthe. During the days when the 
 disease was at its height, the passers-by and the 
 neighbors saw, for the first and only time in Sauviat's 
 life, tears glistening for a long time between his eye- 
 lids and rolling down his hollow cheeks. He did not 
 wipe them away, he would sit for hours like one 
 dazed, afraid to go up to his daughter's room, looking 
 without seeing; he could easily have been robbed! 
 Veronique was saved, but her beauty died. That 
 face, with its smooth, harmoniously blended brown 
 and red complexion, was marked with innumerable 
 pits, which roughened the skin, playing havoc with 
 its fair, smooth surface. The brow could not escape 
 the ravages of the scourge, it became discolored, and 
 looked as if it had been dented with a hammer. 
 Nothing can be more discordant than that brick-red 
 skin against fair hair, it puts an end to pre-existing 
 harmony. Those deep, capricious ruptures of the 
 tissue marred the purity of the profile, the delicate 
 outline of the face, of the nose, whose Grecian shape 
 could hardly be distinguished, and of the chin, once as 
 delicate as the rim of a porcelain vase. The disease 
 respected only what it could not reach, the eyes and 
 the teeth. Nor did Veronique lose her bodily grace 
 and beauty, the rounded fulness of her outlines, or 
 the fine shape of her waist. She was, at fifteen, a 
 comely young woman, and a consideration that 
 comforted the Sauviats for the loss of her loveliness
 
 16 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 a devout, virtuous girl, active, hard-working, and 
 domestic in her tastes. 
 
 During her convalescence and after her first com- 
 munion, her father and mother gave her the two 
 rooms on the second floor for her private apart- 
 ments. At that period, Sauviat, harsh as he was to 
 himself and his wife, began to form some suspicions 
 of comfortable living; he conceived a vague idea of 
 consoling his daughter for a loss of which she as 
 yet knew nothing. The passing of the beauty that 
 was the pride of those two creatures made Vero- 
 nique even dearer and more precious to them. One 
 day Sauviat brought home a second-hand carpet on 
 his back, and nailed it on Veronique's floor with his 
 own hand. He laid aside for her, at the sale of a 
 chateau, a great lady's red damask bed, and the 
 curtains, armchairs, and common chairs covered 
 with the same material. He furnished the two 
 rooms occupied by his daughter with old articles of 
 furniture of whose value she had no idea. He 
 placed jars of mignonette on her window-sill, and 
 brought back with him from his trips sometimes 
 rose-bushes, sometimes pinks, flowers of all sorts, 
 given him in all probability by gardeners or inn- 
 keepers. If Veronique had been able to make 
 comparisons, and had realized the characters, the 
 manners, the ignorance of her parents, she would 
 have understood how much affection there was in 
 these trivial incidents; but she loved them with 
 charming naturalness and without reflection. Vero- 
 nique had the finest linen that her mother could find
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 17 
 
 at the drapers'. La Sauviat gave her daughter per- 
 mission to buy whatever materials she desired for 
 her dresses. Both father and mother were delighted 
 by the modesty of their daughter, who had no extrav- 
 agant tastes. Veronique contented herself with a 
 blue silk dress for fete-days, and wore, on working- 
 days, a coarse merino in winter and a striped calico in 
 summer. On Sundays she attended divine service 
 with her father and mother, and after vespers walked 
 along the Vienne or in the suburbs. On ordinary 
 days she remained in her room, occupied with tap- 
 estry, the price of which belonged to the poor; thus 
 it will be seen that her manners were of the simplest, 
 the most chaste, and most exemplary. Sometimes 
 she made linen for the hospital. She interspersed her 
 work with reading, and read only such books as were 
 lent her by the vicar of Saint-Etienne, a priest who 
 had been introduced to the Sauviats by Sister Marthe. 
 
 So far as Veronique was concerned, the laws of 
 domestic economy were entirely suspended. Her 
 mother took delight in serving her with choice food, 
 and cooked for her separately. The father and 
 mother continued to eat their nuts, their dry bread, 
 their herrings, their fricasseed peas with salted 
 butter, whereas nothing was fresh enough or good 
 enough for Veronique. 
 
 " Veronique must cost you a great deal," said a 
 hatmaker one day, whose shop was opposite the 
 Sauviats, and who had designs upon Veronique in 
 his son's behalf, estimating the old junk-dealer's 
 fortune at a hundred thousand francs.
 
 18 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "Yes, neighbor, yes, neighbor, yes!" replied old 
 Sauviat; " if she was to ask me for ten crowns, I'd 
 give 'em to her all the same. She has all she 
 wants, but she never asks for anything. She's as 
 gentle as a lamb!" 
 
 In fact, Veronique had no idea of the price of any- 
 thing; she had never needed anything; she never 
 .saw any gold pieces until the day of her wedding, 
 she never had a purse of her own; her mother 
 bought and gave her everything she wanted, so 
 that she felt in her mother's pocket for alms for a 
 beggar. 
 
 " Then she don't cost you much," said the hat- 
 maker. 
 
 " You think so, do you?" replied Sauviat. " You 
 wouldn't get out of it whole at forty crowns a year. 
 And her room! why, she has a good hundred crowns 
 in furniture in her room; but when a man has only 
 one daughter, he can afford to let himself out. 
 After all, the little we own will all be hers." 
 
 " Little? You must be a rich man, Pere Sauviat. 
 For forty years you've been carrying on a trade in 
 which there's no losses." 
 
 " Oh! no one would hit me hard for twelve hun- 
 dred francs," retorted the old junk-dealer. 
 
 From the day that Veronique lost the placid beauty 
 that won public admiration for her face as a young 
 girl, Pere Sauviat redoubled his activity. His trade 
 increased so rapidly, that he made several trips to 
 Paris each year thereafter. Everyone understood 
 that it was his purpose to make up in money for
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 19 
 
 what he called, in the language of the trade, the 
 waste caused by his daughter. When Veronique 
 was fifteen years old, a change took place in the do- 
 mestic habits of the family. The father and mother 
 went up every evening to their daughter's rooms, 
 and she read to them, by the light of the lamp placed 
 behind a glass globe filled with water, the Lives of 
 the Saints, Edifying Letters, in fact, all the books 
 lent her by the vicar. La Sauviat knitted, think- 
 ing that in that way she earned the price of the oil. 
 The neighbors could see from their houses the two 
 old people sitting bolt upright in their chairs, like 
 two Chinese figures, listening to their daughter and 
 admiring her with all the strength of intellects that 
 were obtuse to everything that was not business or 
 religious faith. Doubtless there have been in the 
 world girls as pure as Veronique, but never was 
 there a purer or more modest one. Her confession 
 must have astounded the angels and rejoiced the 
 heart of the Blessed Virgin. At sixteen she was 
 fully developed and showed what she was to be. 
 She was of medium height, neither her father nor 
 mother being tall; but her figure was noticeable for 
 its lithe grace, for those attractive sinuous outlines 
 which painters strive so laboriously to reproduce and 
 which nature draws with such delicacy of touch, their 
 graceful contours being always visible to the eye of 
 the connoisseur, despite the linen and the thickness 
 of the outer garments, which always adapt them- 
 selves and shape themselves to the nude figure, 
 whatever one may do. Genuine, simple, natural,
 
 20 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Veronique displayed her beauty to the utmost ad- 
 vantage by movements entirely free from affecta- 
 tion. It had its full force and effect, if we may be 
 allowed to borrow that emphatic expression from the 
 technical language of the law. She had the well- 
 rounded arms of the women of Auvergne, the plump, 
 red hand of a comely tavern girl, large feet, but well- 
 shaped and in proportion to her form. A phenome- 
 non was manifested in her, a fascinating, wonder- 
 ful phenomenon, which revealed to loving eyes 
 a woman who was hidden from all others' sight. 
 That phenomenon may have been one of the causes 
 of the admiration manifested by her father and 
 mother for her beauty, which they called divine, 
 to the vast amazement of the neighbors. The 
 first persons who noticed it were the priests at 
 the cathedral and the faithful who partook of the 
 sacrament. When any violent emotion made itself 
 manifest in Veronique, and the religious exalta- 
 tion that overcame her when she partook of com- 
 munion was certain to be among the most intense 
 emotions of so pure-minded a girl, it seemed that 
 the rays of an internal light effaced the marks of the 
 small-pox. The pure and radiant face of her child- 
 hood reappeared in its primitive loveliness. Although 
 slightly veiled by the rough surface spread over it by 
 the disease, it shone as a flower shines mysteriously 
 beneath the water of the sea, when the rays of the 
 sun penetrate it. For a few moments Veronique 
 was changed: the Little Virgin appeared and dis- 
 appeared like a celestial apparition. The pupils of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 21 
 
 her eyes, which were capable of contraction to an 
 extraordinary degree, seemed at such times to ex- 
 pand and pressed back the blue of the iris, which 
 then formed a very slight circle. This metamorpho- 
 sis of the eye, which became as keen and bright as 
 the eagle's, completed the singular change in her 
 face. Was it the tempest of restrained passions, 
 was it a force from the depths of the soul which 
 expanded the pupil in broad daylight, as with most 
 people it expands in the darkness, thus shading with 
 brown the azure hue of those heavenly eyes? What- 
 ever it may have been, it was impossible to gaze un- 
 moved upon Veronique when she returned from the 
 altar to her place after being made one with God, and 
 showed herself to the congregation in her former re- 
 splendent loveliness. At such times her beauty would 
 have outshone that of the most beautiful women. 
 What fascination to an enamored and jealous man in 
 that veil of flesh which would hide the. wife from all 
 eyes, a veil which the hand of love would raise and 
 let fall again upon legitimate joys! Veronique had a 
 pair of lips, beautifully curved, which seemed to have 
 been painted a bright vermilion, the pure, warm blood 
 so abounded in them. Her chin and the lower part of 
 her face were a little heavy, using the word in the 
 acceptation given it by painters, and that heaviness 
 is, according to the inexorable laws of physiognomy, 
 an indication of a quasi-morbid intensity of passion. 
 Above her well-modelled but almost imperious brow 
 was a superb diadem of luxuriant hair, which had 
 become a rich chestnut in color.
 
 22 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 From her sixteenth birthday to the day of her 
 marriage, Veronique's bearing was constantly pen- 
 sive and melancholy. In such profound solitude she 
 was certain to examine, as hermits do, the great 
 spectacle of what was taking place within herself: 
 the progress of her thoughts, the variety of the 
 images presented to her mind, and the upward flight 
 of emotions kindled by a pure life. Those persons 
 who raised their eyes, as they passed through Rue 
 de la Cite on a fine day, could see Sauviat's 
 daughter sitting at her window, sewing, embroider- 
 ing, or holding the needle over her canvas with a 
 dreamy air. Her head stood out sharply among the 
 flowers which gave a touch of poetry to the weather- 
 beaten, cracked sill of her windows, with their panes 
 set in a network of lead. Sometimes the reflection 
 of the red damask curtains added to the effect of that 
 face, already so richly colored; like a dark-hued 
 flower, she reigned over the aerial garden so sedu- 
 lously cared for by her upon her window-sill. 
 
 Thus that simple old house contained something 
 even more simple than itself: a portrait of a young 
 girl worthy of Mieris, Van Ostade, Terburg, or 
 Gerard Dow, framed in one of those old tumble- 
 down windows, defaced and dark with age, which 
 appealed so strongly to their brushes. When a 
 stranger, surprised at the appearance of the building, 
 stood gazing up in open-mouthed amazement at the 
 second floor, old Sauviat would protrude his head 
 until it was outside the line of the overhang, sure 
 of finding his daughter at her window. Then the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 23 
 
 junk-dealer would draw in his head, and say to his 
 wife, in the Auvergnat patois, rubbing his hands 
 gleefully: 
 
 "I say, old lady, he's admiring your daughter!" 
 
 In 1820, there occurred in Veronique's simple and 
 uneventful life an incident which would have been 
 of no consequence in the case of any other young 
 woman, but which may, perhaps, have exercised a 
 deplorable influence upon her future. On the day 
 of a former church festival, which had been sup- 
 pressed, a day which was a working-day for the 
 whole city, but on which the Sauviats closed their 
 shop, attended church, and went to walk, Veronique, 
 on her way to the open country, passed a book- 
 stall in which she saw the story of Paul et Virginie. 
 The whim seized her to purchase it, on account of 
 the illustrations; her father paid a hundred sous for 
 the fatal volume, and placed it in the capacious 
 pocket of his Sunday coat. 
 
 " Hadn't you better show it to monsieur le 
 vicaire?" said her mother, to whom every printed 
 book always had a slight flavor of magic. 
 
 " I was thinking of it!" replied Veronique, simply. 
 
 The child passed the night reading that romance, 
 one of the most touching books in the French 
 language. The description of that mutual passion, 
 semi-biblical, and worthy of the early ages of the 
 world, wrought havoc in Veronique's heart. A 
 hand, should we call it divine or diabolic, re- 
 moved the veil which had thus far concealed nature 
 from her. The Little Virgin buried in the lovely
 
 24 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 maiden found her flowers lovelier the next morning 
 than they were the day before, she understood their 
 symbolic language, she scrutinized the blue vault of 
 heaven with a fixed gaze overflowing with mental 
 exultation, and tears gathered in her eyes without 
 cause. In the lives of all women there comes a 
 moment when they realize their destiny, when their 
 temperament, hitherto mute, speaks in a tone of 
 authority; it is not always a man selected by an in- 
 voluntary, stealthy glance who awakens their slum- 
 bering sixth sense, but more frequently, perhaps, 
 an unexpected spectacle, a lovely view, a book, the 
 sight of a gorgeous religious ceremony, a blending of 
 natural perfumes, a beautiful morning with its veil 
 of delicate vapor, a strain of divine music with 
 notes that caress the ear, in a word, some unfore- 
 seen cause of emotion in the mind or in the body. 
 To that solitary girl, confined in that gloomy house, 
 reared by simple-minded, quasi-rustic parents, a girl 
 who had never heard an improper word, whose 
 innocent mind had never been approached by the 
 slightest evil thought; to the angelic pupil of Sister 
 Marthe and the good vicar of Saint-Etienne, the 
 revelation of love, which is woman's life, was made 
 by a lovely book, by the hand of genius. To any 
 other, the reading would have been free from danger; 
 to her, that book was worse than an obscene book. 
 Corruption is a relative term. There are sublime, 
 virgin natures which are corrupted by a single 
 thought; it causes the more damage because the 
 necessity of resistance is not anticipated.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 25 
 
 The next day Veronique showed the book to the 
 good priest, who approved the purchase, Paul et 
 Virginie being reputed to be so childlike, so innocent 
 and pure. But the heat of the tropics and the 
 beauty of the landscape, the almost childlike inno- 
 cence of an almost holy love, had had their effect 
 upon Veronique. She was led on by the sweet and 
 noble face of the author to the worship of the ideal, 
 that fatal human religion! She dreamed of having 
 for her lover a young man like Paul. Her thoughts 
 dwelt upon voluptuous pictures in an island filled 
 with sweet fragrance. In her childish fancy she 
 called an island in the Vienne, below Limoges, 
 almost opposite Faubourg Saint-Martial, He de 
 France. There her mind dwelt on the imaginary 
 world which all girls create for themselves, and 
 which they enrich with their own charms. She sat 
 long hours at her window, watching the mechanics 
 pass, the only class of men of whom she was allowed 
 to think, in view of her parents' modest station. Ac- 
 customed, doubtless, to the idea of marrying a man 
 of the people, she discovered in herself instincts 
 which repelled anything in the nature of vulgarity. 
 In that situation, she could not fail to amuse herself 
 by composing some of those romances which all 
 girls compose for themselves alone. She embraced, 
 perhaps with the ardor natural to a refined and 
 virgin imagination, the laudable idea of ennobling 
 one of those men, of raising him to the height to 
 which she was raised by her dreams: it may be 
 that she made a Paul of some young man selected
 
 26 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 by her glances, simply that she might fasten her 
 wild ideas upon a human being, as the vapors of 
 the damp atmosphere, when seized upon by the 
 frost, crystallize on the branches by the roadside. 
 She was likely to plunge into some deep abyss, for, 
 although she often seemed to be returning to earth 
 from a great height, with a luminous reflection upon 
 her brow, yet oftener she seemed to hold in her 
 hand flowers plucked on the bank of some mountain 
 stream which she had followed to the foot of a preci- 
 pice. On warm evenings she asked her old father 
 for his arm and never failed to walk along the banks 
 of the Vienne, where she would go into ecstasies 
 over the beauties of the country and the sky, 
 over the magnificent ruddy hues of the setting 
 sun, over the dainty beauties of the dewy morn- 
 ing. Her mind exhaled the perfume of natural 
 poesy. Her hair, which she formerly braided and 
 twisted simply on top of her head, she brushed 
 and curled with care. Her toilet denoted some 
 thought. The vine, which grew wild, and had 
 thrown itself naturally into the arms of the old elm, 
 was transplanted, trimmed, and trained over a neat 
 green trellis. 
 
 On returning from a trip to Paris, in December, 
 1822, old Sauviat, then seventy years of age, re- 
 ceived a visit from the vicar, who said to him, after 
 divers unimportant remarks: 
 
 "Sauviat, think about finding a husband for your 
 daughter! At your age, you should not longer post- 
 pone the performance of an important duty."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 27 
 
 " But does Veronique want to marry?'* exclaimed 
 the amazed old man. 
 
 "As you please, father," she replied, lowering 
 her eyes. 
 
 "We will marry her," cried old Mere Sauviat, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Why didn't you say something about it before 
 I went away, mother?" rejoined Sauviat. "I shall 
 have to go back to Paris." 
 
 Jean-Baptiste Sauviat, like a man in whose eyes 
 fortune seemed to constitute the whole of happiness, 
 who had never seen aught but need in love, and 
 in marriage aught but a method of transmitting 
 one's property to another self, had sworn to marry 
 Veronique to a rich bourgeois. That idea had long 
 since assumed the shape of a fixed purpose in his 
 brain. His neighbor, the hatmaker, who had an 
 income of two thousand francs, had already solic- 
 ited for his son, to whom he agreed to make over 
 his establishment, the hand of a maiden so re- 
 nowned as Veronique was throughout the neighbor- 
 hood, by reason of her exemplary behavior and her 
 Christian morals. Sauviat had politely refused, with- 
 out mentioning the subject to Veronique. On the 
 day following that on which the vicar, an import- 
 ant personage in the eyes of the Sauviat house- 
 hold, had spoken of the necessity of marrying 
 Veronique, whose spiritual director he was, the old 
 man shaved and dressed himself as if for a holiday, 
 and went out without saying a word to his daughter 
 or his wife. Both understood that the father had
 
 28 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 gone in search of a son-in-law. Old Sauviat called 
 upon his friend Graslin. 
 
 Monsieur Graslin, a wealthy banker of Limoges, 
 was, like Sauviat, a man who had started out from 
 Auvergne without a sou, had risen to the dignity 
 of messenger, and, obtaining employment as office- 
 boy in a banking establishment, had, like many 
 financiers, made his way by strict economy and 
 fortunate combinations. A cashier at the age of 
 twenty-five, and for ten years thereafter a partner 
 in the house of Ferret and Grosset&te, he had at 
 last become the head of the establishment after 
 purchasing the interest of those old bankers, both 
 of whom had retired and gone into the country, 
 leaving their funds in his hands in consideration 
 of a small amount of interest. Pierre Graslin, who 
 was forty-seven years of age at the time of which 
 we write, was reputed to be worth at least six 
 hundred thousand francs.' Common rumor in the 
 province had recently added to the amount of his 
 fortune: one and all had applauded his generosity, 
 which consisted in building for himself in the new 
 quarter of Place des Arbres, a quarter destined 
 to add to the external attractions of Limoges, a 
 fine house on the line of the square, its facade 
 conforming to that of a public building. Pierre 
 Graslin hesitated about furnishing that house, which 
 had been finished six months; it cost him so much 
 that he postponed the moment of taking up his 
 habitation in it. Possibly his pride had carried him 
 beyond the laws of prudence which had governed
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 29 
 
 his life hitherto. With the good sense of the man 
 of business, he realized that the interior of his 
 house should be in harmony with the style of its 
 facade. The furniture, the silver plate, and the 
 necessary accessories of the life he would lead in 
 his new mansion would, according to his reckon- 
 ing, cost as much as the building itself. Despite 
 the remarks of the town, and the jests of the 
 business world, despite the charitable conjectures 
 of his neighbor, he remained mewed up in the old, 
 damp, and dirty ground-floor in Rue Montantmanigne, 
 where his fortune had been made. The public 
 chattered, but Graslin had the approval of his 
 two old silent partners, who praised him for his 
 unusual firmness. A great fortune and an exist- 
 ence like Graslin's were certain to arouse the envy 
 of many persons in a provincial town. So that 
 more than one project of marriage had been hinted 
 at to Monsieur Graslin within ten years. But the 
 condition of bachelor was so well suited to a man 
 who was busy from morning to night, constantly 
 fatigued by travel, overburdened with work, and 
 as ardent in the pursuit of business as ever hunter 
 was in pursuit of game, that Graslin fell into none 
 of the traps set by ambitious mothers, who coveted 
 that brilliant position for their daughters. 
 
 Graslin, a Sauviat in a higher sphere, did not 
 spend forty sous a day, and went about dressed like 
 an under-clerk. Two clerks and an office-boy were 
 all he required in the conduct of his business, which 
 was immense in its multiplicity of details. One
 
 30 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 clerk attended to the correspondence, another acted 
 as cashier. But Pierre Graslin was the mind and 
 the body of the business. His clerks, taken from 
 his own family, were reliable, intelligent men, 
 inured to work, like himself. As for the office- 
 boy, he led the life of a cart-horse. Graslin rose 
 at five o'clock, the year round, and never retired 
 until eleven. He hired a woman, an old Auvergnat, 
 by the day, to do his cooking. The brown earthen- 
 ware dishes, the strong, coarse household linen, were 
 in harmony with the general character of the house- 
 hold. The Auvergnat had orders never to expend 
 more than three francs for the total daily expenses 
 of housekeeping. The boy-of -all-work acted as man- 
 servant. The clerks did their own chamber-work. 
 The blackened tables, the dilapidated straw-seated 
 chairs, the pigeon-holes, the wretched wooden beds, 
 in a word, all the furniture of the counting-room, 
 and the three chambers overhead, was not worth a 
 thousand francs, including a colossal iron safe set 
 into the wall, a legacy from his predecessors, in 
 front of which the boy slept with two dogs at his 
 feet. 
 
 Graslin did not go much into society, where he 
 was so much talked about. Two or three times a 
 year he dined with the receiver-general, with whom 
 he was constantly brought in contact in matters of 
 business. He sometimes dined at the prefecture: he 
 had been appointed a member of the general council 
 of the department, to his great regret. "It was a 
 waste of time," he said. Sometimes his business
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 31 
 
 associates, when he was negotiating transactions 
 with them, kept him to breakfast or to dinner. And 
 he was in duty bound to visit his former employers, 
 who passed their winters at Limoges. He cared so 
 little for social connections that, in twenty-five 
 years, he had not offered so much as a glass of 
 water to any man on earth. When Graslin passed 
 through the street, people pointed him out to one 
 another, saying: "There's Monsieur Graslin!" 
 which was equivalent to: " There's a man who 
 came to Limoges without a sou and has built up an 
 immense fortune!" The Auvergnat banker was 
 held up by more than one father as a model for his 
 child to follow, he was an epigram that more than 
 one wife threw in her husband's face. It is easy to 
 understand by what sequence of ideas this man, who 
 had become the pivot of all the financial machinery 
 of the Limousin, was led to reject the various pro- 
 posals of marriage which people did not tire of 
 making to him. The daughters of Messieurs Ferret 
 and Grossete"te had been married before Graslin 
 was in a position to marry them; but, as all of 
 those ladies had young daughters, Graslin was at 
 last left in peace, on the assumption that either 
 old Ferret or the crafty Grossete"te had arranged 
 beforehand for Graslin 's union with one of their 
 granddaughters. 
 
 Sauviat followed more closely and more seriously 
 than anyone the upward march of his compatriot; he 
 had known him at the time of his first settlement in 
 Limoges; but their respective positions changed so
 
 32 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 materially, at least in appearance, that their friend- 
 ship had become superficial and was rarely refreshed. 
 Nevertheless, in his capacity of compatriot, Graslin 
 never disdained to talk with Sauviat, when they 
 happened to meet. Both of them had retained their 
 primitive familiar form of address, but only in the 
 Auvergne patois. When the receiver-general at 
 Bourges, the youngest of the Grossete"te brothers, 
 married his daughter, in 1823, to the youngest son 
 of the Comte de Fontaine, Sauviat guessed that the 
 Grossete"tes did not choose to admit Graslin to their 
 family. 
 
 After his conference with the banker, Pere Sauviat 
 returned joyfully to dinner in his daughter's room, 
 and said to the two women: 
 
 " Veronique will be Madame Graslin." 
 
 "Madame Graslin!" cried Mere Sauviat, in utter 
 stupefaction. 
 
 " Is it possible?" said Veronique, to whom Graslin 
 was personally a stranger, but in whose imagination 
 he appeared as one of the Rothschilds appears in the 
 imagination of a Parisian grisette. 
 
 " Yes, it's all settled," said old Sauviat, solemnly. 
 " Graslin will furnish his house magnificently; he 
 will have the finest Paris carriage and the hand- 
 somest Limousin horses for our daughter; he will 
 buy an estate for five hundred thousand francs 
 for her, and make his house over to her; in fact, 
 Veronique will be the first woman in Limoges, the 
 richest in the department, and she will do what she 
 likes with Graslin!"
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 33 
 
 Her education, her religious ideas, her unlimited 
 affection for her father and mother, her ignorance, 
 prevented Veronique from imagining a single objec- 
 tion; it did not even occur to her that they had dis- 
 posed of her without her permission. The next day 
 Sauviat went to Paris and was absent about a week. 
 
 Pierre Graslin was, as you will imagine, little 
 inclined to talk; he went straight and speedily to 
 the fact. A thing determined upon was a thing 
 done. In February, 1823, a strange report burst 
 upon Limoges like a thunder-clap: the Graslin man- 
 sion was being sumptuously furnished, vans from 
 Paris passed through the gate in endless succession 
 and were unpacked in the courtyard. The town 
 was filled with gossip concerning the beauty and 
 taste of furniture, modern or antique, according to 
 the fashion. The house of Odiot sent down a mag- 
 nificent service of silver plate by the mail-coach. 
 And, lastly, three carriages, a caleche, a coupe, and 
 a cabriolet, arrived swathed in straw like jewels. 
 
 " Monsieur Graslin is to be married!" 
 
 Those words were uttered by every mouth in a 
 single evening, in the salons of the first society, in 
 the domestic circle, in the shops, in the suburbs, and 
 ere long throughout the Limousin. But whom was 
 he to marry? No one could answer. There was a 
 mystery at Limoges. 
 
 After Sauviat' s return, Graslin made his first 
 
 evening call, at half-past nine. Veronique, who 
 
 had been notified of his coming, was awaiting him, 
 
 dressed in her high-necked blue silk, over which fell 
 
 3
 
 34 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 a lawn neckerchief with a broad hem. Her hair, 
 divided into two smooth bandeaux, was gathered in 
 a knob behind her head, in the Grecian style. She 
 was sitting in an upholstered chair, beside her 
 mother, who sat at the corner of the hearth in a 
 capacious easy-chair with a carved back, covered 
 with red satin, a relic from some old chateau. A 
 fire was burning brightly on the hearth. On the 
 mantel, on each side of an old-fashioned clock, of 
 the value of which the Sauviats certainly had no 
 idea, were six candles in two old copper candlesticks 
 representing vine-branches, which lighted up that 
 dingy room and Veronique in all the flower of her 
 beauty. The old mother had put on her best dress. 
 In the silence of that retired quarter, at that silent 
 hour, from the semi-darkness of the old stairway, 
 Graslin appeared to the innocent and modest Vero- 
 nique, who was still under the spell of the sweet 
 thoughts of love inspired by Bernardin de Saint- 
 Pierre's book. 
 
 Graslin was short and thin, with a head of thick 
 black hair like the bristles in a hair-brush, which 
 brought out his face in bold relief, a face as red 
 as that of a drunkard emeritus, and covered with 
 angry-looking pimples, bleeding or ready to prick. 
 Although they indicated neither leprosy nor herpes, 
 those results of a blood heated by constant toil, by 
 anxiety, by the mad rush of business, by late hours, 
 by sobriety, by a virtuous life, seemed to partake of 
 the nature of both those diseases. Despite the 
 advice of his partners, his clerks, and his physician,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 35 
 
 the banker had never been able to subject himself 
 to the medical precautions which would have warded 
 off or mitigated that disease, which was very slight 
 at first, but grew worse from day to day. He wished 
 to be cured, he took baths for some days and drank 
 the remedies prescribed; but, carried away by the 
 swift current of business, he neglected his physical 
 welfare. He thought of suspending his operations 
 for a few days, of travelling, of going to the waters 
 for treatment; but what hunter of millions ever 
 pauses in the chase? In that eager face gleamed 
 two gray eyes, striped with greenish lines that radi- 
 ated from the pupil, and dotted with brown spots; 
 two covetous eyes, two keen eyes that pierced to 
 the depths of the heart, two implacable eyes, over- 
 flowing with determination, with uprightness, with 
 shrewdness. Graslin had a turned-up nose, thick 
 lips, a retreating forehead, glistening cheek-bones, 
 thick ears, with broad rims corroded by the impu- 
 rity of his blood; in short, he was the satyr of old, 
 the faun in a frock-coat and black satin waistcoat, 
 with a white cravat around his neck. The stout, 
 muscular shoulders, which had once carried heavy 
 loads, were already bent; below that over-developed 
 bust were slender legs, ill-fitted to short thighs. 
 The hands, which were thin and hairy, had the 
 hooked fingers of men accustomed to counting 
 money. The wrinkles extended from the cheek- 
 bones to the mouth in even furrows, as is the case 
 with all men intent upon material interests. The 
 habit of forming rapid decisions could be seen in the
 
 36 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 way in which the eyebrows were raised toward 
 each lobe of the forehead. Although unsmiling and 
 tightly closed, the mouth denoted hidden kindness, a 
 warm heart buried under the cares of business, 
 suffocated, perhaps, but capable of renewing its life 
 at a woman's touch. At his appearance Veronique's 
 heart contracted violently, a black cloud passed 
 before her eyes; she imagined that she cried out, 
 but she remained silent, staring at vacancy. 
 
 "Veronique, this is Monsieur Graslin," said old 
 Sauviat. 
 
 Veronique rose, bowed, fell back upon her chair 
 and glanced at her mother, who was smiling at the 
 millionaire, and who, as well as Sauviat himself, 
 seemed happy, oh! so happy, that the poor girl 
 found strength to conceal her surprise and her in- 
 tense feeling of repulsion. In the conversation which 
 ensued, Graslin's health was mentioned. The 
 banker surveyed himself artlessly in the mirror with 
 carved claws and ebony frame. 
 
 " I am not handsome, mademoiselle," he said. 
 
 And he explained the eruption on his face by 
 his busy life, he told how he disobeyed his doc- 
 tor's orders; he flattered himself that his appear- 
 ance would change as soon as a wife should 
 assume command in his household, and should take 
 better care of him than he was wont to take of him- 
 self. 
 
 " Does a woman marry a man for his face, old 
 fellow?" said the old junk-dealer, with a resounding 
 smack upon his compatriot's leg.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 37 
 
 Graslin's explanation was addressed to those 
 natural feelings with which every woman's heart 
 is more or less filled. Veronique reflected that her 
 own face had been marred by a horrible disease, 
 and her Christian modesty caused her to revise her 
 first impression. Hearing a whistle in the street, 
 Graslin went down, followed by Sauviat in some 
 alarm. Both speedily returned. The office-boy 
 brought the first bouquet of flowers, which was 
 somewhat behind time. When the banker exhibited 
 that bunch of exotic blossoms, whose perfume in- 
 vaded the room, and offered them to his future bride, 
 Veronique experienced emotions diametrically op- 
 posed to those which the first sight of Graslin had 
 caused; it was as if she were transported to the 
 ideal, visionary world of nature in the tropics. She 
 had never seen white camellias, she had never smelt 
 the Alpine clover, the garden-mint, the jasmine of 
 the Azores, the musk-roses, in a word, all those 
 divine odors which act as excitants of affection and 
 sing hymns of perfume to the heart. 
 
 Graslin left Veronique under the spell of that 
 emotion. After Sauviat's return, the banker, when 
 everyone in Limoges was asleep, would slink along 
 close against the walls to Pere Sauviat's house. He 
 would knock softly on the shutters, the dog would 
 not bark, the old man would go down and open the 
 door to his countryman, and Graslin would pass an 
 hour or two with Veronique in the dingy room. 
 There Graslin always found his Auvergnat supper, 
 served by Mere Sauviat. The strange lover never 
 
 189968
 
 38 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 appeared without bringing Veronique a bouquet of the 
 rarest flowers, gathered in the greenhouse of Mon- 
 sieur Grossetete, the only person in Limoges who 
 was in the secret of the marriage. The office-boy 
 went after dark to fetch the bouquet, which old 
 Grossetete put together with his own hands. In 
 two months, Graslin called about fifty times; every 
 time he brought some handsome present: rings, a 
 watch, a gold chain, a work-basket, etc. A single 
 word will explain this extraordinary lavishness. 
 Veronique's marriage portion consisted of almost the 
 whole of her father's fortune, seven hundred and 
 fifty thousand francs. The old man retained an 
 investment of eight thousand francs a year in the 
 public funds, representing an original investment of 
 sixty thousand francs in assignats, made for him by 
 his confrere Brezac, to whom he had entrusted the 
 certificate at the time of his imprisonment, and who 
 had always kept it for him, persuading him not to 
 sell it. That sixty thousand francs in assignats was 
 half of Sauviat's fortune at the time when he almost 
 met his death upon the scaffold. In that emergency, 
 Brezac had faithfully taken care of the balance, con- 
 sisting of seven hundred louis d'or, an enormous 
 sum, with which the Auvergnat resumed operations 
 as soon as he recovered his liberty. In thirty years 
 each of those louis had changed to a thousand-franc 
 note, with the assistance of the income from the in- 
 vestment in the Funds, the Champagnac inheritance, 
 the accumulated profits of his business, and of his 
 share in the association, which increased in value in
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 39 
 
 the hands of the house of Brezac. Brezac had an 
 honest friendship for Sauviat, such as Auvergnats 
 are wont to have for one another. 
 
 When Sauviat went and gazed at the facade of 
 the h6tel Graslin, he would say to himself: 
 " Veronique will live in that palace!" 
 He knew that there was no other girl in the 
 Limousin with a dowry of seven hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs, and two hundred and fifty thousand 
 in expectation. Wherefore Graslin, the son-in-law 
 of his choice, could not fail to marry Veronique. 
 Every evening Veronique had a bouquet, which 
 adorned her little salon the next day, and which she 
 concealed from the neighbors. She admired all the 
 dainty jewels, the pearls, the diamonds, the rubies, 
 the bracelets, in which all of Eve's daughters take 
 delight; she thought that she was less ugly when 
 arrayed in them. She saw that her mother was 
 overjoyed with the marriage, and she had no basis 
 of comparison; moreover, she knew nothing of the 
 duties, the object of marriage; and, lastly, she heard 
 the solemn voice of the vicar of Saint-Etienne ex- 
 tolling Graslin as a man of honor, with whom she 
 would lead an honorable life. Veronique consented 
 therefore to receive Monsieur Graslin's attentions. 
 When, in a solitary, meditative life like Veronique's, 
 there is a single person who comes every day, that 
 person cannot be indifferent; either he is hated, and 
 aversion justified by thorough acquaintance with 
 character is unendurable; or the habit of seeing him 
 benumbs the eyes, so to speak, so far as his bodily
 
 40 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 defects are concerned. The mind seeks compensa- 
 tions. A certain face keeps our curiosity employed; 
 the features become animated, perhaps, and some 
 fleeting charm becomes manifest in them. Then 
 you end by discovering the real substance that is 
 concealed beneath the outer form. In short, the 
 first impressions once overcome, the attachment 
 becomes the stronger because the heart clings ob- 
 stinately to it as a creation of its own. Love is 
 born. There is the secret of the passions conceived 
 by lovely young women for persons externally ugly. 
 Physical form, forgotten by affection, is no longer 
 visible in a being whose heart thenceforth is the 
 only subject of interest. Moreover, beauty, which 
 is so essential to a woman, assumes such a strange 
 character in man, that there is perhaps as much 
 difference of opinion between women concerning the 
 beauty of men as between men concerning the beauty 
 of women. 
 
 After much reflection, therefore, after many dis- 
 cussions with herself, Veronique consented to the 
 publication of the banns. Thereafter that incredi- 
 ble event was the sole subject of conversation in 
 Limoges. No one knew the secret: the enormous 
 figure of the dowry. If the amount of the dowry 
 had been known, Veronique might have chosen a 
 husband for herself; but perhaps she would have 
 been deceived! Graslin was supposed to be deeply 
 in love. Upholsterers came down from Paris to set 
 the house in order. The banker's lavish expendi- 
 ture was the all-absorbing topic in Limoges: people
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 41 
 
 estimated the value of the chandeliers, they de- 
 scribed the decorations of the salon, the subjects 
 represented by the clock-cases, the jardinieres, the 
 reclining-chairs, the lovely bric-a-brac, the novelties. 
 In the garden of the hotel Graslin, on top of an ice- 
 house, was a dainty bird-house, and everyone was 
 amazed to see therein rare birds, parroquets, Chi- 
 nese pheasants, and ducks of the unfamiliar breeds; 
 people came from far and near to see them. Mon- 
 sieur and Madame GrossetSte, elderly people, much 
 esteemed in Limoges, made several visits to the 
 Sauviats, accompanied by Graslin. Madame Grosse- 
 tete, a most respectable person, congratulated 
 Veronique upon her good fortune. Thus the Church, 
 the family, society, everybody and everything, 
 no matter how unimportant, were accessory to this 
 marriage. 
 
 In the month of April the official invitations were 
 distributed among all Graslin's acquaintances. At 
 eleven o'clock on a lovely day, a caleche and a coupe 
 drawn by the Limousin horses selected by old Grosse- 
 tte, harnessed in the English fashion, drew up in 
 front of the junk-dealer's modest shop, bringing 
 the bridegroom's former partners and his two clerks, 
 to the intense agitation of the neighborhood. The 
 street was filled with people who had assembled to 
 see Sauviat's daughter, upon whose lovely hair the 
 most renowned hair-dresser in Limoges had arranged 
 the bridal wreath, and a veil of the most expensive 
 English lace. Veronique was simply dressed in 
 white muslin. An imposing gathering of the most
 
 42 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 distinguished women of the town awaited the bridal 
 party at the cathedral, where the bishop, knowing 
 the sincere piety of the Sauviats, condescended to 
 marry Veronique. The bride was generally con- 
 sidered ugly. She entered her new home and pro- 
 ceeded from surprise to surprise. A State dinner was 
 to precede the ball, to which Graslin had invited al- 
 most all Limoges. The dinner, given to the bishop, 
 the prefect, the president of the court, the procureur- 
 general, the mayor, the general, and Graslin's former 
 partners and their wives, was a triumph for the bride, 
 who, like all simple and unaffected persons, displayed 
 unforeseen charms. As neither the bride nor the 
 groom knew how to dance, Veronique continued to 
 do the honors of her house, and won the esteem and 
 goodwill of the greater part of those persons whose 
 acquaintance she made, seeking information con- 
 cerning each of them from Grossetete, who con- 
 ceived a warm friendship for her. Thus she avoided 
 all mistakes. During this festivity, the two ex- 
 bankers made known the amount of the fortune 
 given by old Sauviat to his daughter, an immense 
 fortune in the Limousin. At nine o'clock the junk- 
 dealer went home to bed, leaving his wife to preside 
 at the bride's retiring. It was said in the town that 
 Madame Graslin was ugly but well-formed. 
 
 Old Sauviat settled up his business, and sold his 
 house in the town. He bought a country-house on 
 the left bank of the Vienne, between Limoges and 
 Cluzeau, ten minutes' walk from Faubourg Saint- 
 Martial, where he proposed to end his days in peace
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 43 
 
 with his wife. The two old people had apartments of 
 their own in the h6tel Graslin, and dined once or twice 
 a week with their daughter, who often made their 
 house the goal of her walks. That inactivity nearly 
 killed the old junk-dealer. Luckily, Graslin found a 
 means of employing his father-in-law. In 1823 the 
 banker was obliged to take over a porcelain manu- 
 factory, having advanced a large amount to the 
 owners, who were unable to pay him except by sell- 
 ing him their establishment. With the assistance of 
 his business connections, and by putting some money 
 into the concern, Graslin made it one of the leading 
 factories in Limoges, and sold it three years later at 
 a handsome profit. He entrusted the superintend- 
 ence of that large establishment, which was located 
 in Faubourg Saint-Martial, to his father-in-law, who, 
 notwithstanding his seventy-two years, was largely 
 responsible for the fortunate result of the affair, and 
 who grew younger in the process. Thus Graslin 
 was able to attend to his business in the town, with- 
 out concerning himself about an industry which, but 
 for the passionate activity of old Sauviat, might have 
 obliged him to take one of his clerks into partner- 
 ship and thus lose a portion of the profit which he 
 made, in addition to saving the capital involved. 
 
 Sauviat died in 1827, as the result of an accident. 
 While superintending the taking of an inventory at 
 the factory, he fell into a charasse, a sort of box 
 with no cover but a grating, in which porcelain is 
 packed. He wounded his leg slightly and did not attend 
 to it; gangrene set in, he refused to allow the leg to
 
 44 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 be amputated, and died. The widow gave up about 
 two hundred and fifty thousand francs, the amount 
 of Sauviat's property, contenting herself with an 
 annuity of two hundred francs a month, which was 
 amply sufficient for her needs, and which her son- 
 in-law agreed to pay her. She retained her little 
 country-house, where she lived alone, without a 
 servant; her daughter could not induce her to swerve 
 from that decision, in which she persisted with the 
 obstinacy peculiar to old people. Mere Sauviat went 
 to see her daughter almost every day, just as her 
 daughter continued to make the country-house the 
 goal of her walks. It commanded a lovely view of 
 the Vienne, and from it could be seen the little 
 island of which Veronique was so fond, and which 
 she had once called her He de France. 
 
 In order not to interrupt the history of the Graslin 
 household, it is necessary to bring the story of the 
 Sauviats to a close, anticipating the happening of 
 these events, a knowledge of which will be useful, 
 moreover, to a comprehension of the secret life led by 
 Madame Graslin. Her old mother, having remarked 
 how Graslin's avarice was likely to embarrass her 
 daughter, refused for a long while to relinquish the 
 balance of her fortune; but Veronique, who had no 
 reason to anticipate any one of those emergencies in 
 which women desire to have the disposal of their 
 own property, insisted, for reasons instinct with 
 nobility of sentiment, she desired to thank Graslin 
 for having restored the liberty she had had as a girl. 
 
 The unaccustomed splendor of Graslin's marriage
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 45 
 
 and the attendant festivities had disturbed all his 
 habits and fretted his nature. That great financier 
 had a very small mind. Veronique had had no op- 
 portunity to judge the man with whom she was to 
 pass her life. During his fifty-five visits, Graslin 
 had never allowed her to see anything but the man 
 of business, the tireless worker, who divined oppor- 
 tunities, who conceived and carried out great enter- 
 prises, and analyzed public affairs, reducing them all 
 to the scale of the Bank. Fascinated by the father- 
 in-law's million, the parvenu made a display of gen- 
 erosity as a matter of business; but, if he did things 
 on a grand scale, he was led on by the springtime of 
 marriage, and by what he called his folly by that 
 house which is called to this day the hotel Graslin. 
 Having provided himself with horses, a caleche, a 
 coupe, he naturally made use of them to return his 
 wedding calls, to attend the dinner-parties and balls, 
 known as retours de noces, at which the chief govern- 
 ment officials and the wealthy business men enter- 
 tained the newly-married couple. In obedience to the 
 impulse which carried him outside his natural sphere, 
 Graslin appointed a reception day and imported a 
 cook from Paris. For about a year he lived as a man 
 ought to live who possessed sixteen hundred thousand 
 francs, and who had three millions at his disposal, in- 
 cluding the funds that were placed in his hands. He 
 was at this time the most pronounced personage in 
 Limoges. During that year, he generously placed 
 twenty-five louis in Madame Graslin's purse each 
 month.
 
 46 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 The best society of the town was much interested 
 in Veronique in the first months succeeding her mar- 
 riage, which was a sort of windfall to the public 
 curiosity, generally without nourishment in the 
 provinces. Veronique was the more carefully ob- 
 served in that she appeared in society as a sort of 
 phenomenon; but she maintained the simple and 
 modest bearing of one who keeps a close watch upon 
 manners and customs and unfamiliar things, wishing 
 to conform to them. Having been previously pro- 
 claimed as ugly but well-formed, she was thence- 
 forth considered a good soul, but stupid. She was 
 learning so many things, she had so much to listen to 
 and to see, that her manner, her conversation, justi- 
 fied that judgment in a measure. She had, more- 
 over, a sort of torpor which resembled lack of intel- 
 lect. Marriage, that difficult trade, as she called it, 
 in connection with which the Church, the Code, and 
 her mother counselled the greatest resignation, the 
 most absolute obedience, under pain of violating all 
 human laws and of causing irreparable misfortune, 
 plunged her into a dazed condition which sometimes 
 bordered upon downright vertigo. Silent and pen- 
 sive, she listened to herself as much as she listened 
 to others. Feeling what Fontenelle calls the most 
 extreme difficulty in being, a difficulty which con- 
 stantly increased, she was terrified at herself. 
 Nature rebelled under the orders of the mind, and 
 the body lost touch with the will. The poor crea- 
 ture, caught in the snare, wept upon the bosom of 
 the mother of the poor and afflicted, she had recourse
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 47 
 
 to the Church, her piety redoubled in fervor, she 
 confided the wiles of the demon to her virtuous con- 
 fessor, she prayed. Never in her life did she per- 
 form her religious duties with more intense ardor 
 than at that time. Despair, caused by her inability 
 to love her husband, drove her to the altar's foot, 
 where divine, consoling voices bade her have patience. 
 She was patient and gentle, she continued to live, 
 awaiting the joys of maternity. 
 
 " Did you see Madame Graslin this morning?" the 
 women would say among themselves; " marriage is 
 not a success with her, she was green." 
 
 " True, but would you have given your daughter 
 to a man like Monsieur Graslin? A woman doesn't 
 marry such a monster with impunity!" 
 
 After Graslin was married, all the mothers who 
 had been hunting him for ten years overwhelmed 
 him with epigrams. Veronique lost flesh and be- 
 came really ugly. Her eyes lost their sparkle, her 
 features grew coarse, she seemed shamefaced and 
 embarrassed. Her expression was marked by that 
 sad indifference so often made a subject of reproach 
 to devout women. Her face assumed a grayish tinge. 
 She dragged herself languidly along during that first 
 year after her marriage, ordinarily such a brilliant 
 period for young wives. She soon sought distrac- 
 tion in reading, availing herself of the married 
 woman's privilege of reading everything. She read 
 Walter Scott's novels, Lord Byron's poems, the 
 works of Schiller and Goethe, the masterpieces of 
 ancient and modern literature. She learned to ride,
 
 48 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 to dance, and to draw. She painted in water-color 
 and sepia, seeking with ardor all the resources with 
 which women contend against the ennui of solitude. 
 In short, she gave herself that second education 
 which almost all women owe to a man, but which 
 she owed to herself alone. The superiority of a 
 free, open nature, reared as in a desert, but fortified 
 by religion, had imparted a sort of savage grandeur, 
 and awakened demands which provincial society 
 could not satisfy. All books described love, she 
 looked about for something to which to apply her 
 reading, and could discover no passion anywhere. 
 Love remained in her heart in the condition of a 
 seed awaiting a sunbeam. Her profound melan- 
 choly, engendered by constant meditations concern- 
 ing herself, led her back through obscure paths to 
 the brilliant dreams of the last days of her unmarried 
 life. More than once she recalled the romantic poems 
 she once composed, becoming both their scene and 
 their subject. Again she saw that flower-girt, per- 
 fumed island, bathed in light, where everything 
 caressed the heart. Often her lustreless eyes gazed 
 about the salons with eager curiosity: all the men 
 resembled Graslin, she studied them and seemed to 
 question their wives; but, as she discovered none of 
 her private griefs depicted upon their faces, she be- 
 came depressed and sad once more, anxious concern- 
 ing herself. The authors she had read in the morn- 
 ing responded to her most exalted sentiments, their 
 talent gave her pleasure; and in the evening she 
 listened to trite remarks which were not even
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 49 
 
 disguised beneath an appearance of wit, conversation 
 that was either foolish and vapid, or concerned en- 
 tirely with local, personal interests of no importance 
 to her. She was amazed at the warmth displayed 
 in discussions which involved no question of senti- 
 ment, to her the soul of life. Often she would sit 
 with eyes fixed on vacancy, as if in a stupor, think- 
 ing doubtless of the hours of her ignorant youth, 
 passed in that chamber filled with harmony, now 
 destroyed like herself. The thought of falling into 
 the gulf of petty interests in which the women dwelt 
 among whom she was compelled to live, was horribly 
 repugnant to her. This disdain, which was written 
 on her brow and lips, and ill-disguised, was taken 
 for the insolence of an upstart. Madame Graslin 
 noticed a cold expression upon every face, and felt 
 in everybody's speech a bitterness of which she did 
 not know the cause, for she had not as yet succeeded 
 in becoming sufficiently intimate with one of her own 
 sex to be enlightened or advised by her. Injustice, 
 which causes petty minds to rise in revolt, forces 
 lofty minds to retreat within themselves and imparts 
 to them a sort of humility: Veronique blamed herself, 
 sought to divine wherein she had done wrong; she 
 tried to be affable, she was called false; she became 
 doubly gentle in her manner, she was looked upon as 
 a hypocrite, and her piety furnished fresh ammunition 
 for calumny; she spent money, she gave balls and 
 dinner-parties, and she was accused of ostentation. 
 
 Unfortunate in all her attempts, misjudged, dis- 
 gusted by the mean, sordid pride that distinguishes 
 4
 
 JO THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 provincial society, where everyone is always armed 
 with prejudices and anxieties, Madame Graslin re- 
 turned to a life of absolute solitude. She rushed 
 joyfully back to the arms of the Church. Her 
 noble mind, surrounded by such weak flesh, caused 
 her to see in the numerous commandments of the 
 catechism so many stones planted along the brink 
 of the precipices of life, so many props brought 
 by charitable hands to sustain human weakness 
 during the journey; she performed, therefore, with 
 the utmost strictness, all the duties enjoined by the 
 Church, even the most trivial. Thereupon the 
 liberal party wrote Madame Graslin down among 
 the pious women of the town, she was classed 
 among the ultras. Thus, to the various grievances 
 which Veronique had innocently heaped up, party 
 spirit added its periodical irritations; but, as she lost 
 nothing by that ostracism, she abandoned society 
 and devoted herself to reading, which offered un- 
 limited resources. She reflected upon the books she 
 read, she compared the different styles, she ex- 
 panded immeasurably the range of her intellect and 
 the extent of her knowledge, and thus she opened 
 the door of her mind to curiosity. During that 
 period of persistent study, due to the influence of 
 religion upon her mind, she cultivated the friend- 
 ship of Monsieur Grossetete, one of those old men 
 whose superior faculties become somewhat rusted by 
 provincial life, but who, at the contact of a keen in- 
 tellect, strike fire now and again. The goodman be- 
 came deeply interested in Veronique, who rewarded
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 51 
 
 him for the flattering and kindly warmheartedness 
 peculiar to old men by exhibiting to him, first of all, 
 the treasures of her heart and the luxuriance of her 
 intellect, cultivated so secretly, and at that time 
 laden with flowers. A fragment of a letter written 
 to Monsieur Grossetgte during that period will de- 
 scribe the frame of mind of that woman, who was to 
 give proof thereafter of such a steadfast and lofty 
 character. 
 
 " The flowers you sent me for the ball were charming, but 
 they suggested cruel thoughts to me. Those pretty blossoms, 
 plucked by you and destined to die upon my bosom and in my 
 hair, as part of the decorations of a fete, made me think of 
 those that are born and die in your woods, unseen, their fra- 
 grance breathed by no one. I asked myself why I danced, why 
 I arrayed myself in fine clothes, just as I ask God why I am in 
 this world. You see, my friend, everything is a snare for the 
 unfortunate ; the most trivial things bring an invalid's mind 
 back to his disease ; but the greatest curse of certain diseases 
 is the persistence which makes them become fixed ideas. 
 Would not a constant pain be a divine thought? You love 
 flowers for themselves, whereas I love them as I love to hear 
 beautiful music. In like manner, as I told you, I miss the 
 secret of a multitude of things. You, my old friend, have a 
 passion, you are a horticulturist. On your return to town, 
 communicate your taste to me, so that I may fly, light of 
 foot, to my greenhouse, as you go to yours to watch the 
 development of the plants, to blossom and flower with them, 
 to admire what you have created ; to discover new, unhoped- 
 for combinations of color appear and multiply before your eyes 
 by virtue of your labors. I feel a heart-breaking ennui. My 
 greenhouse contains only suffering souls. The miseries which 
 I strive to lighten make my heart sad, and, when I make 
 them my own, when, after I have found some young wife
 
 52 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 without clothes for her new-born child, some old man without 
 bread, I have provided for their needs, the emotion caused by 
 the distress I have relieved is not enough for my heart. Ah ! 
 my friend, I feel within me a superb force, an evil force, 
 perhaps, which nothing can crush, which the sternest injunc- 
 tions of religion do not quell. When I go to see my mother, 
 and find myself alone in the fields, I am seized with a longing 
 to cry out, and I do cry out. It seems as if my body were a 
 prison in which some evil genie detains a groaning creature 
 who awaits the mysterious words which are destined to 
 shatter an importunate shape. But the comparison is not a 
 just one. In my case, on the contrary, it is the body that 
 suffers from ennui, if I may so express myself. Religion 
 engrosses my soul; reading and its treasures furnish never- 
 failing food for my mind. Why do I desire a sorrow which 
 will interrupt the enervating tranquillity of my life ? If some 
 sentiment, some mania to cultivate, does not come to my aid, I 
 feel that I shall plunge into an abyss where all ideas grow 
 stale, where the character shrinks, where the springs of life 
 relax, where the faculties lose their substance, where all the 
 mental forces become dissipated, and where I shall cease to be 
 the being that nature intended me to be. That is the mean- 
 ing of my outcries. I trust that they will not prevent your 
 sending me flowers. Your sweet and generous friendship 
 has reconciled me with myself these last months. Yes, I 
 am happy to know that you cast a friendly glance upon 
 my heart, at once a desert and a garden of flowers; that 
 you find a kindly word to welcome the return of the half- 
 crushed fugitive who has been riding the restive horse of 
 her dreams ! " 
 
 At the close of the third year of his married life, 
 Graslin, seeing that his wife no longer used her 
 horses, and finding a favorable opportunity, sold 
 them; he also sold the carriages, dismissed the coach- 
 man, allowed the bishop to take his man cook, and
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 53 
 
 filled his place with a woman. He ceased to give 
 his wife money, telling her that he would pay all 
 the bills. He was the most fortunate husband on 
 earth, meeting with no resistance to his will on the 
 part of the wife who had brought him a dowry of a 
 million. Madame Graslin, having been brought up 
 without any knowledge of money, without being 
 obliged to look upon it as an indispensable element 
 in life, deserved no credit for her self-abnegation. 
 Graslin found in a corner of the desk the sums he 
 had given his wife, less what she had expended in 
 alms and upon her dress, which had cost her but 
 little on account of the profusion with which her 
 wedding trousseau had been supplied. Graslin held 
 up Veronique to all Limoges as the model of wives. 
 He deplored the magnificence of his furniture and 
 had it all packed away. His wife's bedroom, boudoir, 
 and dressing-room were excepted from his eco- 
 nomical measures, which served no purpose, for 
 furniture wears out under coverings as quickly as 
 without coverings. He lived on the ground-floor of 
 his house, where his offices were established, and he 
 resumed his former mode of life, hunting for busi- 
 ness with the same energy as in the past. The 
 Auvergnat considered himself an excellent husband 
 because he partook of the breakfast and dinner pre- 
 pared under his wife's supervision; but he was so 
 unpunctual that he did not begin a meal with her 
 ten times in a month; with great delicacy he in- 
 sisted that she should not wait for him. Neverthe- 
 less, Veronique remained until he came, in order to
 
 54 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 wait upon him herself, wishing to fulfil her duties as 
 wife in some visible respect. 
 
 The banker, who was quite indifferent to the de- 
 tails of married life and in whose eyes his wife 
 simply stood for seven hundred and fifty thousand 
 francs, never noticed Veronique's feeling of repul- 
 sion. By insensible degrees he abandoned Madame 
 Graslin for his business. When he expressed a 
 wish to place a bed in a room adjoining his office, 
 she hastened to gratify him. Thus, three years 
 after her marriage, those two ill-assorted beings 
 found themselves once more in their original 
 spheres, and were equally happy to return to them. 
 The moneyed man, with his eighteen hundred thou- 
 sand francs, returned with the more ardor to his 
 miserly ways, because he had laid them aside for a 
 moment; his two clerks and his office-boy were 
 more comfortably lodged and a little better fed: that 
 was the difference between the present and the 
 past. His wife had a cook and a maid, two indis- 
 pensable servants; but nothing beyond what was 
 absolutely necessary went out of his strong-box 
 for household expenses. Veronique, overjoyed at 
 the turn affairs had taken, saw in the banker's 
 happiness the compensation for the separation for 
 which she would never have asked; it was not pos- 
 sible for her to be so disagreeable to Graslin as Gras- 
 lin was repulsive to her. This secret divorce made 
 her sad and joyous at once; she looked forward to 
 maternity to give an interest to her life, but, not- 
 withstanding their mutual resignation, the husband
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 55 
 
 and wife reached the year 1828 without having had 
 a child. 
 
 Thus, in her magnificent house, envied by a 
 whole town, Madame Graslin lived in the same 
 solitude as in her father's hovel, without the hope, 
 without the childlike joys of ignorance. She lived 
 there among the ruins of her castles in Spain, 
 enlightened by sad experience, upheld by her re- 
 ligious faith, devoted to the poor of the town, 
 whom she overwhelmed with benefactions. She 
 made layettes for the children, she gave mattresses 
 and sheets to those who lay on straw; she went 
 everywhere, attended by her maid, a young Au- 
 vergnat whom her mother procured for her, and 
 who was devoted to her, body and soul; she made 
 of her a virtuous spy, whose mission it was to 
 discover places where there was suffering to be 
 relieved, misery to be lightened. This active be- 
 nevolence, combined with the most scrupulous fulfil- 
 ment of her religious duties, was shrouded in the 
 deepest mystery, although it was carried on under 
 the direction of the cures of the town, with whom 
 Veronique planned all her good works, in order that 
 money which would be useful in relieving unde- 
 served misfortunes might not be wasted in the 
 hands of vice. During that period she won a 
 friendship that was quite as warm and quite as 
 precious to her as old Grossete'te's: she became 
 the beloved ewe-lamb of a priest of superior intel- 
 lect, persecuted for his unappreciated talent, one 
 of the grand vicars of the diocese, named Abbe
 
 56 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Dutheil. That priest belonged to that infinitesimal 
 fraction of the French clergy who lean toward some 
 concessions, who would be glad to have the Church 
 become associated with the interests of the common 
 people, so that it might regain, by the application of 
 the true doctrine of the Gospel, its former influence 
 over the masses, whom it could then bring to the 
 support of the monarchy. Whether because Abbe 
 Dutheil had become convinced of the impossibility 
 of enlightening the court of Rome and the upper 
 clergy, or because he had sacrificed his own opinions 
 to those of his superiors, he kept himself within the 
 limits of the strictest orthodoxy, knowing that the 
 bare enunciation of his principles would effectually 
 bar his path to a bishopric. That eminent priest 
 presented the combination of very great Christian 
 modesty with a strong character. Without arro- 
 gance or ambition, he remained at his post, perform- 
 ing his duties amid dangers. The liberals of the 
 town knew nothing of the motives of his conduct, 
 they based their judgment upon his opinions, and 
 reckoned him as a patriot, a word which signifies 
 revolutionist in the language of Catholics. Beloved 
 by his inferiors, who dared not proclaim his merit, 
 but feared by his equals, who kept a close watch 
 upon him, he was an embarrassment to the bishop. 
 His virtues and his great knowledge, envied per- 
 haps, warded off persecution; it was impossible to 
 complain of him, although he criticised the bungling 
 policy by which the throne and the clergy mutu- 
 ally compromised each other; he declared its results
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 57 
 
 in advance and without success, like poor Cas- 
 sandra, who was cursed with equal fervor before 
 and after the downfall of her country. In the 
 absence of a revolution, Abbe Dutheil was destined 
 to hold his place like one of those stones, out of 
 sight in the foundations, on which the whole struc- 
 ture rests. His usefulness was recognized, but he 
 was left where he was, like most of the eminent 
 minds whose accession to power is the bugbear of 
 mediocrities. If he had taken up the pen, like 
 Abbe de Lamennais, he would doubtless have called 
 down the anathemas of Rome as he did. 
 
 Abbe Dutheil was an imposing personage. His 
 external appearance indicated one of those profound 
 natures always placid and tranquil on the surface. 
 His great height, his spareness, did not impair the 
 general effect of his figure, which reminded one of 
 those which the genius of the Spanish artists has 
 most affected v to represent the great monastic 
 thinkers, and those which Thorwaldsen has recently 
 conceived for his Apostles. Those long, almost rigid 
 folds of the face, harmonizing with those of the cloth- 
 ing, have that charm which the Middle Ages empha- 
 sized in the mystic statues set up in the doorways of 
 its churches. Gravity of thought, of language, and 
 of accent were in perfect accord in Abbe Dutheil and 
 became him well. Looking at his black eyes, sunken 
 by mortification of the flesh and surrounded by dark 
 rings, his forehead as yellow as an old stone, his 
 almost fleshless face and hands, no one would have 
 expected a different voice or different sentiments
 
 58 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 from those which issued from his mouth. That 
 purely physical grandeur, in accord with his mental 
 grandeur, gave the priest a haughty, disdainful air, 
 which was instantly contradicted by his modesty 
 and by his words, but which did not prepossess 
 people in his favor. In a more exalted station, such 
 advantages would have caused him to obtain that 
 ascendency over the masses which is so necessary, 
 and which they allow men thus endowed to assume; 
 but superiors never forgive their inferiors the posses- 
 sion of the external appearance of grandeur, nor for 
 displaying that majesty of demeanor, so highly prized 
 by the ancients, which is so often lacking in the 
 mouthpiece of modern governments. 
 
 By virtue of one of those strange caprices, which 
 will seem natural only to the most accomplished 
 courtiers, the other vicar -general, Abbe de Grancour, 
 a short, stout man with a florid face and blue eyes, 
 whose opinions were contrary to Abbe Dutheil's, 
 lived on the most excellent terms with him, but 
 without making any public manifestation likely to 
 deprive him of the good graces of the bishop, to 
 whom he would have sacrificed everything. Abbe 
 de Grancour believed in his colleague's merit, he 
 recognized his talents, he subscribed to his doctrine 
 secretly and condemned it in public; for he was one 
 of those people whom mental superiority attracts 
 and intimidates, who hate it and nevertheless culti- 
 vate it. " He would embrace me as he pronounced 
 my condemnation," Abbe Dutheil said of him. Abbe 
 de Grancour had neither friends nor enemies, he was
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 59 
 
 likely to die a vicar-general. He said that he was 
 attracted to Veronique by the desire to advise so 
 pious and benevolent a person, and the bishop 
 approved; but, in his heart, he was delighted to be 
 able to pass an evening now and then with Abbe 
 Dutheil. 
 
 These two priests therefore called quite regularly 
 upon Veronique, in order to make a sort of report to 
 her concerning the objects of her bounty, and to dis- 
 cuss methods of combining moral instruction with 
 material assistance. But from year to year Monsieur 
 Graslin tightened the strings of his purse, when he 
 learned, notwithstanding the ingenious deceit of his 
 wife and Aline, that the money he was asked to fur- 
 nish was not expended upon the house or the toilet. 
 He was wroth when he reckoned how much his 
 wife's alms-giving cost his strong-box. He under- 
 took to keep an account with the cook, he went 
 into all the minutias of the household expenses, 
 and showed what an excellent manager he was by 
 making a practical demonstration of the fact that his 
 house could be kept up handsomely on three thou- 
 sand francs. Then he made an arrangement with 
 his wife, as between master and clerk, for her ex- 
 penses, allowing her a hundred francs a month, and 
 boasting of that allowance as a display of royal mu- 
 nificence. The garden connected with his house, 
 being turned over to him, was tended on Sundays 
 by his office-boy, who loved flowers. Having dis- 
 missed the gardener, Graslin transformed the con- 
 servatory into a store-room, in which he kept the
 
 60 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 merchandise deposited with him as security for loans. 
 He allowed the birds in the great aviary on the ice- 
 house to die of hunger, in order to cut off the expense 
 of feeding them. Finally, he took advantage of a 
 winter when there was no frost to refuse to pay the 
 charges for transportation of ice. 
 
 In 1828, there was not a single article of luxury 
 that was not condemned. Parsimony reigned unop- 
 posed in the h6tel Graslin. The master's face, 
 which had improved during the three years he had 
 passed in intimate relations with his wife, who 
 had made him follow the doctor's prescriptions with 
 scrupulous exactness, became redder, more inflamed, 
 more blotched than before. The business reached such 
 proportions that the office-boy was promoted, as his 
 master had once been, to the post of cashier, and it 
 became necessary to find an Auvergnat for the heavy 
 work of the Graslin establishment. Thus, four years 
 after her marriage, that woman, rich as she was, had 
 not a three-franc piece at her disposal. The avarice 
 of her parents was replaced by the avarice of her 
 husband. Madame Graslin did not realize the neces- 
 sity of money until her benevolence was balked. 
 
 At the beginning ot the year 1828, Veronique had 
 recovered the blooming health which was the charm 
 of the innocent girl sitting at her window in the old 
 house on Rue de la Cite; but she had meanwhile 
 acquired profound literary knowledge, she knew 
 how to think and to talk. Exquisite accuracy of 
 perception gave character to her features. Accus- 
 tomed as she was to petty social details, she wore
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 6 1 
 
 fashionable clothes with infinite grace. When she 
 chanced to appear in a salon, about that period, she 
 found herself, not without surprise, in an atmosphere 
 of respectful esteem. That feeling and that recep- 
 tion were due to the two vicars-general, and to old 
 Grossete"te. The bishop and some influential persons, 
 being made acquainted with the story of that lovely 
 hidden life and of her untiring benevolence, had 
 spoken of that flower of true piety, of that violet 
 perfumed with virtue, and there had taken place 
 thereupon, in Madame Graslin's favor, and unknown 
 to her, one of those reactions which are the more 
 solid and enduring because they are of slow growth. 
 This revulsion in feeling brought in its train the 
 influence of Veronique's salon, which, from that time 
 on, was frequented by the notabilities of the town; 
 and this is how it came about. The young Vicomte 
 de Granville was sent to the office of the king's 
 attorney at Limoges, in the capacity of deputy 
 attorney, toward the end of that year, preceded by 
 the reputation which is always manufactured in 
 advance in the provinces for all Parisians. A few 
 days after his arrival, at an evening party at the 
 prefecture, he answered an absurd question that was 
 asked him, with the statement that Madame Graslin 
 was the most agreeable, the most intellectual, and 
 the most distinguished woman in the town. 
 
 " Perhaps she is the most beautiful, too?" queried 
 the receiver-general's wife. 
 
 " I do not dare to say yes in your presence," 
 he replied. " Therefore I am in doubt. Madame
 
 62 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Graslin's beauty is of a sort that should cause you 
 no jealousy, it is never seen by daylight. Madame 
 Graslin is beautiful in the eyes of those whom she 
 loves, and you are beautiful in everybody's eyes. 
 In Madame Graslin, when the soul is once set in 
 motion by genuine enthusiasm, it imparts to her 
 face an expression which changes it completely. 
 Her face is like a landscape that is depressing 
 in winter, magnificent in summer; the world will 
 always see it in winter. When she talks with 
 friends upon some literary or philosophical subject, 
 upon religious questions in which she is interested, 
 her face lights up, an unknown woman of marvel- 
 lous beauty suddenly appears before you." 
 
 This declaration, based upon the speaker's ob- 
 servation of the phenomenon which formerly ren- 
 dered Veronique so beautiful as she walked away 
 from the communion table, made a great sensation 
 in Limoges, where, for the moment, the new deputy 
 attorney, who had been promised, so it was said, 
 the place of avocat-general, occupied a position of 
 much prominence. In all provincial towns, a man 
 who stands on a slightly higher level than other men 
 becomes for a greater or less time the object of a 
 passing admiration which resembles enthusiasm, and 
 which deceives its object. It is to this social caprice 
 that we owe the arrondissement geniuses, the un- 
 appreciated men and their imaginary talents con- 
 stantly humiliated. The man whom women thus 
 bring into fashion is more frequently a stranger than 
 a native of the province; but with regard to the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 63 
 
 Vicomte de Granville, this admiration, as rarely 
 happens, was not misplaced. Madame Graslin was 
 the only person with whom the Parisian had been 
 able to exchange his ideas and to carry on a conver- 
 sation upon different subjects. A few months after 
 his arrival, the deputy, attracted by the growing 
 charm of Veronique's conversation and manners, 
 proposed to Abbe Dutheil and some notabilities of 
 the town that they should play whist regularly at 
 Madame Graslin 's. Thereafter Veronique received 
 five times a week, for she wished to leave two days 
 free for her household duties, she said. When she 
 had about her the only men of superior parts in the 
 town, some other persons were not slow to award 
 themselves letters-patent of intellectual eminence by 
 joining the circle. Veronique received the three or 
 four most prominent officers of the garrison and the 
 commandant's staff. The freedom of speech which 
 her guests enjoyed, the absolute discretion to which 
 they were bound, without definite agreement, and 
 simply by adopting the manners of the best society, 
 made her extremely strict regarding the admission 
 of those who intrigued to obtain that honor. The 
 women of the town were not exempt from jealousy 
 at the sight of Madame Graslin surrounded by the 
 cleverest and most agreeable men in Limoges; but 
 her power gained in extent in proportion to the 
 reserve she showed; she admitted four or five 
 women who had come from Paris with their hus- 
 bands, and who held in horror the gossiping pro- 
 pensity of provincials. If any person outside of
 
 64 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 that select circle chanced to call, the subject of 
 conversation was changed at once by tacit agree- 
 ment, and the habitues of the salon talked on trivial 
 subjects only. 
 
 Thus the h6tel Graslin was an oasis where supe- 
 rior minds escaped the ennui of provincial life, 
 where men connected with the government could 
 open their hearts upon politics without having to 
 fear that their words would be repeated, where 
 everything that was laughable was laughed at in a 
 refined way, where everyone laid aside his pro- 
 fessional coat and allowed his true character to 
 assert itself. Thus, after having been the most 
 obscure girl in Limoges, after having been esteemed 
 foolish, ignorant, and ugly, Madame Graslin, at the 
 beginning of the year 1828, was considered the first 
 person in the town and the most illustrious of her 
 own sex. No one came to see her in the morning, 
 for everyone knew her benevolent habits, and the 
 punctuality with which she performed her religious 
 duties; she almost always went to the first mass, in 
 order not to delay her husband's breakfast, for, 
 although he was hopelessly irregular, she wished 
 always to wait upon him. Graslin had at last 
 become used to his wife in that trivial detail. He 
 never missed an opportunity to praise her, he con- 
 sidered her an accomplished woman; she never 
 asked him for anything, he could heap crown upon 
 crown and cut a broad swath in the business field; 
 he had begun to have transactions with the house of 
 Brezac, he was sailing constantly forward upon the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 65 
 
 commercial ocean; his over-excited selfishness kept 
 him in the frantic yet tranquil condition of a gambler 
 on the watch for important events on the green cloth 
 of speculation. 
 
 During that happy time, which lasted until the 
 beginning of 1829, Madame Graslin, in the eyes 
 of her friends, attained a veritably extraordinary 
 beauty, the causes of which were never satisfactorily 
 explained. The blue of the iris expanded like a 
 flower, and contracted the brown circle of the pupil, 
 seeming to be dipped in a moist, languishing light, 
 overflowing with love. Her forehead, illumined by 
 memories, by happy thoughts, grew white like a 
 mountain peak at dawn, and the lines of her face 
 were purified by some inward fire. Her face lost 
 those bright brown tints which denoted the begin- 
 ning of inflammation of the liver, the disease of vig- 
 orous constitutions or of persons whose hearts are 
 ill at ease, whose affections are thwarted. Her 
 temples became beautifully smooth and white. In 
 fact, her friends saw, at intervals, the divine face, 
 worthy of Raphael, which disease had blurred, as 
 time dims one of that great artist's canvases. Her 
 hands seemed whiter, her shoulders became de- 
 liciously plump and round; her graceful, animated 
 movements exhibited her lithe, flexible figure to 
 the best advantage. The women of the town 
 accused her of loving Monsieur de Granville, who 
 paid assiduous court to her, and against whom 
 she erected the barriers of a pious resistance. 
 The deputy attorney professed for her a respectful 
 5
 
 66 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 admiration which did not deceive the habitues of her 
 salon. The priests and the men of intellect were 
 well aware that that attachment, amorous though it 
 was on the part of the young magistrate, did not go 
 beyond proper limits in the case of Madame Graslin. 
 Weary of a resistance based upon the most pious 
 sentiments, the Vicomte de Granville, to the knowl- 
 edge of the members of that circle, formed more 
 compliant friendships, which, however, did not 
 interfere with his constant admiration and worship 
 of the fair Madame Graslin, for so was she called at 
 Limoges in 1829. 
 
 The most clear-sighted attributed the change of 
 features, which rendered Veronique more charming 
 than ever to her friends, to the secret delight that 
 every woman feels, even the most devout, in being 
 courted, in the satisfaction of living at last in the 
 environment best suited to her mind, in the pleasure 
 of exchanging her ideas, a pleasure that put an end 
 to the ennui of her life, in the joy of being sur- 
 rounded by agreeable, educated men, true friends 
 whose attachment waxed stronger from day to day. 
 Perhaps it would have required even more profound, 
 more keen-sighted or more suspicious observers 
 than the habitues of the hStel Graslin to divine 
 the savage grandeur, the strength characteristic of 
 the common people, which Veronique had forced 
 back into the depths of her being. If, as some- 
 times happened, she was taken by surprise when 
 absorbed in meditation, depressed, perhaps, or simply 
 pensive, her friends all knew that she carried the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 67 
 
 suffering of many others in her heart, that she 
 had probably been made acquainted that morning 
 with many new miseries, that she went into dens of 
 infamy where vice was appalling in its openness. 
 Often the deputy attorney, soon appointed avocat- 
 general, scolded her for some ill-advised benefaction, 
 which, in the course of preliminary investigations, 
 the authorities had found to be an encouragement of 
 projected crimes. 
 
 " Do you need money for any of your poor?" old 
 Grossetete would say to her at such times, taking 
 her hand; " in that case I will be a confederate in 
 your benevolence." 
 
 " It is impossible to make everybody rich!" she 
 would answer, with a sigh. 
 
 Early in the year 1829, the event occurred that 
 was to change Veronique's inward life completely 
 and to transform the superb expression of her face, 
 making it, by the way, a thousand times more inter- 
 esting in the eyes of painters. Being seriously 
 alarmed about his health, Graslin, to his wife's great 
 chagrin, refused to occupy longer his rooms on the 
 ground-floor; he went up to his wife's apartments, 
 where he required her to nurse him. Soon there 
 was gossip in Limoges concerning Madame Graslin's 
 condition; she was enceinte; her melancholy, mingled 
 with joy, preoccupied her friends, who then divined 
 that, despite her virtuous character, she had been 
 very happy to live apart from her husband. Per- 
 haps she had hoped for a more brilliant destiny, 
 since the day when the avocat-general paid court to
 
 68 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 her after refusing to marry the wealthiest heiress in 
 the Limousin. Thereafter the profound politicians 
 who play the police, as to sentiments and fortunes, 
 between two games of whist, had suspected the 
 magistrate and the young woman of founding upon 
 the banker's feeble health hopes that were well- 
 nigh ruined by that event. The serious mental 
 troubles that marked this period of Veronique's life, 
 the anxiety which a first confinement causes a 
 woman, and the fact that it is said to be attended 
 with danger when it happens after the first youth, 
 made her friends more assiduous in their atten- 
 tions; each of them showed in a thousand little 
 ways how warm and enduring their affection was.
 
 II 
 
 TASCHERON 
 
 In that same year Limoges enjoyed the terrible 
 spectacle and extraordinary drama of the Tascheron 
 case, in which the young Vicomte de Granville dis- 
 played the talents which led to his appointment 
 to the office of procureur-general at a later period. 
 
 An old man who lived in an isolated house in 
 Faubourg Saint-Etienne was assassinated. A large 
 orchard separates the house from the faubourg, 
 and it is separated from the open country by a 
 flower-garden, at the end of which are some old 
 abandoned greenhouses. The bank of the Vienne 
 slopes rapidly in front of the estate, being so steep 
 that the river can be seen from the house. The 
 courtyard extended on an inclined plane to the top 
 of the bank, where it was bounded by a low wall 
 with posts at equal intervals connected by a fence, 
 more for ornament than defence, for the rails were 1 
 of painted wood. This old man, named Pingret, 
 renowned for his avarice, lived with a single ser- 
 vant, a country-girl, whom he required to do his 
 ploughing. He himself tended his wall-fruits, 
 trimmed his trees, gathered his fruit, and sent it 
 (69)
 
 70 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 into the town to be sold, together with early vege- 
 tables, in the cultivation of which he excelled. The 
 old man's niece and sole heiress, married to a 
 small annuitant in the town, one Monsieur des 
 Vanneaulx, had many times entreated her uncle to 
 hire a man to watch his house, pointing out to 
 him that he would / save by it the crops that 
 might be raised on several pieces of land planted 
 with standard trees, where he himself sowed only 
 wretched grain, but he had persistently refused. 
 This inconsistency in a miser furnished food for 
 conjecture in the houses where the Des Vanneaulx 
 passed their evenings. More than once the games 
 of boston were interrupted by the most diverse com- 
 ments. Some cunning wags concluded that there 
 was a treasure hidden under the grass. 
 
 " If I were in Madame des Vanneaulx's place," said 
 one pleasant joker, " I would not worry my uncle; 
 if they murder him, why, they'll murder him. I 
 would take the inheritance." 
 
 Madame des Vanneaulx tried to make her uncle 
 provide for his safety, as the managers of the 
 Theatre-Italien beg their popular tenor to cover his 
 throat well, and lend him their cloaks when he has 
 forgotten his own. She had presented little Pingret 
 with a magnificent watch-dog, and the old man sent 
 him back by Jeanne Malassis, his servant. 
 
 "Your uncle don't want another mouth in the 
 house to feed," she told Madame des Vanneaulx. 
 
 The result proved how well founded were the 
 niece's fears. Pingret was murdered one dark
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 71 
 
 night, in the middle of a field of lucerne, where 
 he was probably adding a few louis to the contents 
 of a pot of gold. The servant, aroused by the 
 struggle, had the courage to run to the old miser's 
 assistance, and the murderer had found that he 
 must kill her in order to suppress her testimony. 
 That reflection, which almost always leads assassins 
 to add to the number of their victims, is inspired by 
 the capital punishment that looms before them. 
 This double murder was attended by curious cir- 
 cumstances, which were likely to aid the prosecu- 
 tion as much as the defence. When the neighbors 
 passed a whole morning without seeing little Pingret 
 or his servant; when, as they went and came, they 
 scrutinized his house through the wooden fence and 
 saw the doors and windows closed contrary to all 
 custom, there was a commotion in Faubourg Saint- 
 Etienne, which extended as far as Rue des Cloches, 
 where Madame des Vanneaulx lived. The niece's 
 thoughts were always filled with a possible disaster; 
 she notified the authorities, who burst in the doors. 
 They soon discovered, in the four plots of land, four 
 empty holes, surrounded by the debris of pots that 
 were filled with gold the night before. In two holes 
 that had been partly filled, the bodies of Pingret and 
 Jeanne Malassis had been buried in their clothes. 
 The poor girl had run to the spot, with bare feet, in 
 her chemise. 
 
 While the king's attorney, the commissioner of 
 police, and the examining magistrate were collecting 
 the elements of a prosecution, the unfortunate Des
 
 72 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Vanneaulx picked up the debris of the pots, and cal- 
 culated the amount stolen according to their capacity. 
 The magistrates admitted the accuracy of his calcu- 
 lations, estimating the vanished treasure at a thou- 
 sand pieces per pot; but were they pieces of forty- 
 eight or forty, twenty-four or twenty francs? All 
 those who were awaiting inheritances in Limoges 
 shared the grief of the Des Vanneaulx. The Limou- 
 sin imagination was intensely excited by the sight 
 of those broken pots of gold. As for little Pere Pin- 
 gret, who used often to come to market himself with 
 vegetables to sell, who lived on bread and onions, 
 who did not spend three hundred francs a year, who 
 never obliged or disobliged a human being, and who 
 had never done one sou's worth of good in Faubourg 
 Saint-Etienne, not the slightest regret was felt for 
 him. As to Jeanne Malassis, her heroism, which 
 the old miser had ill rewarded, was considered ill 
 judged; the number of people who admired her was 
 small in comparison to those who said: "For my 
 part, I'd have slept right on!" The law officers 
 found neither ink nor pen with which to draw up 
 their report in that bare, dilapidated, cold, uninviting 
 house. The curious bystanders and the heir-at-law 
 thereupon discovered evidences of the contrasts that 
 are noticeable in some misers. The little old man's 
 dismay at the thought of any additional expense was 
 manifest in the unrepaired roofs which showed their 
 open sides to the light, the rain, and the snow; in the 
 green cracks with which the walls were furrowed, in 
 the rotten doors ready to fall at the slightest touch,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 73 
 
 and in the windows stuffed with unoiled paper. 
 Everywhere curtainless windows, fireplaces without 
 mirrors or andirons, the clean hearths being furnished 
 with a single log or with small wood almost coated 
 with soot from the flue; broken-legged chairs, two 
 thin, flat couches, cracked kettles, mended plates, 
 one-armed armchairs; at Pingret's bed were curtains 
 which Time had embroidered with his audacious 
 hands; a worm-eaten desk, in which he kept his 
 seeds; linen thickened by darns and patches; and a 
 pile of rags which lived only when sustained by the 
 master's mind, and which, when he was dead, fell 
 in tatters, in dust, in chemical dissolution, in ruins, 
 in an indefinable nameless something, as soon as the 
 brutal hands of the frantic heir or the officers of the 
 law touched them. Those things disappeared as if 
 terrified by the thought of a public sale. The great 
 majority of the people in the capital of the Limousin 
 were deeply interested in the good Des Vanneaulx, 
 who had two children; but, when the authorities be- 
 lieved that they had found the presumed author of 
 the crime, that personage monopolized public atten- 
 tion, he became a hero, and the Des Vanneaulx 
 remained in the shadow of the picture. 
 
 Toward the close of the month of March, Madame 
 Graslin had experienced some of those discomforts 
 which are caused by a first pregnancy, and which 
 cannot be concealed. The authorities were still in- 
 vestigating the crime committed in Faubourg Saint- 
 Etienne, and the assassin had not been arrested. 
 Veronique received her friends in her bedroom and
 
 74 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 they played whist there. Madame Graslin had not 
 been out for several days; she had had several of 
 those curious caprices which are related of all women 
 in her condition; her mother came to see her almost 
 every day, and they remained together for hours at 
 a time. It was nine o'clock, the card-tables were 
 neglected, for everybody was talking about the mur- 
 der and the Des Vanneaulx. The avocat-general 
 appeared. 
 
 " We have Pere Pingret's murderer!" he said in a 
 tone of satisfaction. 
 
 "Who is it?" was asked on all sides. 
 
 "A workman in a porcelain factory, whose pre- 
 vious conduct has been exemplary, and who was in 
 a fair way to make a fortune. He worked in the 
 factory your husband formerly owned," he said, 
 turning to Madame Graslin. 
 
 " Who is he?" asked Veronique in a weak voice. 
 
 "Jean-Francois Tascheron." 
 
 " Poor fellow!" she cried. " Yes, I have seen 
 him'several times; my poor father recommended him 
 to me as a fine fellow." 
 
 "He left the factory before Sauviat died, and went 
 to work for the Philipparts, who did better by him," 
 observed old Mere Sauviat. " But is my daughter 
 well enough to listen to this conversation?" she 
 said, glancing at Madame Graslin, who had turned 
 as white as her sheets. 
 
 After that evening, Mere Sauviat left her house, 
 and constituted herself her daughter's nurse, despite 
 her sixty -six years. She never left the room;
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 75 
 
 Madame Graslin's friends found her at all hours 
 stationed heroically at her daughter's pillow, where 
 she devoted her time to her eternal knitting, shel- 
 tering Veronique with her glance, as at the time of 
 the small-pox, answering for her, and sometimes 
 turning visitors away. The maternal and filial love 
 of the mother and daughter was so well known in 
 Limoges that the old woman's actions surprised no 
 one. A few days later, when the avocat-general 
 attempted to give some details which the whole 
 town was intensely eager to know concerning Jean- 
 Francois Tascheron, thinking that it might amuse 
 the invalid, La Sauviat interrupted him abruptly, 
 saying that he would cause Madame Graslin to have 
 more bad dreams. But Veronique, gazing earnestly 
 at Monsieur de Granville, begged him to go on. 
 Thus Madame de Graslin's friends were the first to 
 learn, and at her house, from the mouth of the 
 avocat-general, the result of the investigation, which 
 was soon to be made public. These, succinctly 
 stated, are the main points of the indictment which 
 the prosecuting officers were then preparing: 
 
 Jean-Francois Tascheron was the son of a small 
 farmer burdened with a family, who lived in the 
 village of Montegnac. Twenty years before this 
 crime, famous in the annals of the Limousin, the 
 canton of Montegnac was notorious for its lax morals. 
 The prosecuting officers at Limoges used to say that 
 of every hundred criminals convicted in the depart- 
 ment, fifty were from the arrondissement which 
 included Montegnac. Since 1816, two years after
 
 76 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the arrival of the cure Bonnet, Montegnac had lost 
 its unsavory reputation, its people had ceased to 
 send their contingent to the assizes. That change 
 was generally attributed to the influence of Monsieur 
 Bonnet in the commune, formerly the breeding-place 
 of the scoundrels who ravaged the country-side. 
 
 The crime of Jean-Francois Tascheron suddenly 
 restored to Montegnac its old-time celebrity. By a 
 strange caprice of chance, the Tascheron family was 
 almost the only one in the district which had pre- 
 served the exemplary, old-fashioned morals and the 
 religious habits which careful observers see to be 
 disappearing more and more rapidly in the country 
 districts; it had, therefore, been the mainstay of the 
 cure, to whose heart its members were naturally 
 very dear. That family, remarkable for its probity, 
 its unity, and its fondness for work, had never set 
 aught but a good example to Jean-Francois Tasche- 
 ron. Led to Limoges by the praiseworthy ambition 
 to earn a fortune honestly in the manufacturing 
 industry, the boy had left the village to the regret 
 of his parents and his friends, who were very fond 
 of him. During his two years' apprenticeship, his 
 conduct was worthy of all praise; no visible back- 
 sliding had foreshadowed the horrible crime which 
 brought his life to an end. 
 
 Jean-Francois Tascheron had passed in study 
 and self-improvement the time that other workmen 
 devote to the wine-shop and to dissipation. The 
 most minute investigations of the provincial authori- 
 ties, who have much time to themselves, shed no
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 77 
 
 light upon the secrets of that existence. Upon 
 being closely questioned, the landlady of the mean, 
 furnished lodging-house where Jean-Francois lived 
 said that she had never had a young man in her 
 house whose morals were so pure. His disposition 
 was amiable and sweet, sometimes joyous. About 
 a year before the commission of the crime, his 
 humor seemed to have changed, he slept abroad 
 several times a month, often several nights in suc- 
 cession. In what part of the town did he pass those 
 nights? she had no idea. She thought sometimes, 
 however, from the condition of his boots, that her 
 lodger had been in the country. Although he evi- 
 dently went out of the town, instead of wearing hob- 
 nailed shoes, he wore pumps. Before he started, he 
 shaved, put on clean linen, and perfumed himself. 
 The magistrates carried their investigations into the 
 houses of ill-repute and among disorderly women, 
 but Jean-Francois Tascheron was unknown there; 
 they sought information among the working-girls 
 and grisettes, but not one of the women whose con- 
 duct was open to reproach had had any relations 
 with the accused man. 
 
 A crime without a motive is inconceivable, es- 
 pecially in the case of a young man whose leaning 
 toward self-improvement and whose ambition entitled 
 him to be accredited with ideas and common sense 
 on a higher plane than those of other workmen. The 
 prosecuting officers and the examining magistrate 
 attributed the crime committed by Tascheron to the 
 passion for play; but after searching investigation
 
 78 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 it was proved that the accused had never, gam- 
 bled. Jean-Francois took refuge at first in a sys- 
 tem of denial, which was likely to fail of its effect 
 before the jury, in the presence of proofs, but which 
 indicated the intervention of some person well ac- 
 quainted with judicial procedure or endowed with 
 unusual intelligence. The incriminating facts, of 
 which these were the principal ones, were, as in 
 many cases of murder, both important and trivial: 
 Tascheron's absence from home during the night of 
 the crime and his refusal to state where he was, for 
 he scorned to manufacture an alibi; a fragment of 
 his blouse, torn away without his knowledge by the 
 poor servant-girl in the struggle, and found in a tree, 
 where it had been carried by the wind; his presence 
 in the vicinity of the house during the evening, which 
 was noticed by passers-by and by the people of the 
 faubourg, and which none of them would ever have 
 remembered except for the crime; a false key made 
 by himself to enable him to enter by the door open- 
 ing on the fields, and adroitly buried in one of the 
 holes, two feet below the body, but found by Mon- 
 sieur des Vanneaulx, who dug down to see if the 
 treasure-house had not two floors. The investiga- 
 tion led to the discovery of the persons who fur- 
 nished the iron, and lent the vise and the file. That 
 key was the first clew, it directed suspicion to Tas- 
 cheron, who was arrested on the boundary line of 
 the department, in a wood where he was wait- 
 ing for a diligence to pass. An hour later, he 
 would have been on his way to America. Finally,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 79 
 
 notwithstanding the care with which the footprints 
 were effaced in the ploughed fields and in the muddy 
 road, the municipal keeper found prints of dancing 
 pumps, which were carefully removed and pre- 
 served. When Tascheron's room was searched, 
 the soles of his pumps were placed in those prints 
 and corresponded perfectly. This fatal coincidence 
 confirmed the observations of the inquisitive land- 
 lady. 
 
 The report of the preliminary investigation attrib- 
 uted the crime to some outside influence and not to 
 the initiative of the accused; it inclined to the con- 
 clusion that he had had an accomplice, which 
 conclusion was confirmed by the evident impossibil- 
 ity of one man carrying away the buried treasure. 
 However strong a man may be, he does not carry 
 twenty-five thousand francs in gold a very great 
 distance. If each pot had contained that sum, the 
 four would have necessitated four trips. Now there 
 was a singular circumstance that fixed the hour at 
 which the crime was committed. In the alarm 
 caused by her master's outcry, Jeanne Malassis, 
 springing from her bed, had overturned the night- 
 stand on which her watch lay; that watch, the only 
 present the old miser had given her in five years, 
 had its mainspring broken by the fall; it marked 
 two o'clock. In the middle of March, when the 
 crime was committed, the sun rises between five 
 and six o'clock. Thus, whatever distance the 
 money had been carried, Tascheron could not have 
 managed the transportation alone, according to the
 
 80 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 hypothesis adopted by the king's attorney and the 
 examining magistrate. The care with which Tasche- 
 ron had obliterated some footprints, while neglect- 
 ing his own, pointed to some mysterious assistance. 
 Being forced to invent a motive, the authorities 
 attributed the crime to a frantic passion, and as 
 they failed to find the object of that passion among 
 the lower classes, they looked higher. Perhaps 
 some bourgeoise, sure of the reticence of a young 
 man cast in the mould of a fanatic, had inaugurated a 
 romance of which this was the ghastly catastrophe. 
 That presumption was almost justified by the inci- 
 dents of the murder. The old man had been killed 
 by blows with a spade. Therefore the crime was 
 the result of a sudden, unlooked-for, accidental 
 fatality. The lovers might well have agreed to 
 commit theft and not murder. Tascheron the lover, 
 and Pingret the miser, two intractable passions, had 
 met upon the same spot, both drawn thither by gold, 
 in the dense darkness of the night. 
 
 In order to obtain some light upon this obscure 
 affair, the authorities resorted to the device of arrest- 
 ing a sister whom Jean-Francois loved dearly, and 
 placing her in solitary confinement, hoping to pene- 
 trate, through her, the mystery of her brother's 
 private life. Denise Tascheron took refuge in a 
 policy of silence enjoined by prudence, which caused 
 her to be suspected of having knowledge of the mo- 
 tives of the crime, of which she knew nothing. That 
 confinement blasted her life. The accused exhibited 
 a strength of character very rare among the common
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 8 1 
 
 people: he foiled the most adroit spies with whom he 
 was brought in contact, although he did not detect 
 their real character. Thus, in the view of the lead- 
 ing lights of the magistracy, Jean-Francois was a 
 criminal from passion, not from necessity, like the 
 majority of ordinary assassins, all of whom pass 
 through the police court and the galleys before 
 they arrive at their last stroke. An active and 
 shrewd investigation was instituted in the line of this 
 theory; but the criminal's unwavering reticence left 
 them with nothing to work upon. As soon as this 
 plausible romance of a passion for a woman in the 
 higher social spheres was adopted, Jean-Francois 
 was subjected to more than one artful examination, 
 but his discretion triumphed over all the moral tor- 
 tures which the skill of the examining magistrate in- 
 flicted upon him. When, in a supreme effort, the 
 magistrate told Tascheron that the woman for whom 
 he had committed the crime was known and arrested, 
 his expression did not change, and he contented him- 
 self with replying ironically: 
 
 " I should be very glad to see her!" 
 
 Upon learning these circumstances, many per- 
 sons shared the magistrate's suspicions, which the 
 moody silence maintained by the accused seemed 
 to confirm. The public were intensely interested 
 in a young man who was becoming a problem. 
 Everyone will readily understand how violently 
 these details aroused public curiosity, and with what 
 avidity the trial would be followed. Despite the 
 probing of the police, the prosecution had paused 
 6
 
 82 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 upon the threshold of hypothesis, not daring to 
 penetrate the mystery, it scented so many dangers 
 therein! In certain cases, semi-certainty is not 
 sufficient for the magistrate. It was hoped that 
 the truth would come forth into the light at the 
 Court of Assize, where many criminals contradict 
 themselves. 
 
 Monsieur Graslin was one of the jurors drawn 
 for the session, so that, from her husband or from 
 Monsieur de Granville, Veronique was certain to 
 learn the smallest details of the criminal trial which 
 kept the Limousin and all France in a state of 
 excitement for a fortnight. The attitude of the 
 accused justified the theory adopted by the town 
 in accordance with the conjectures of the authori- 
 ties; more than once his eyes were turned upon 
 the throng of privileged women who came to taste 
 the innumerable emotions of that drama in real life. 
 Each time that his glance embraced that fashionable 
 assemblage with a clear but inscrutable expression, 
 there was a violent commotion, everyone was so 
 afraid of seeming to be his accomplice to the search- 
 ing eyes of the prosecuting officers and the court. 
 
 The fruitless efforts of the authorities were made 
 public, and disclosed the precautions taken by the 
 accused to assure the perfect success of his crime. 
 Some months prior to the fatal night, Jean-Francois 
 had provided himself with a passport for North 
 America. Thus his plan of leaving France had 
 been formed long before, so that the woman must 
 be married, for it would be useless to flee the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 83 
 
 country with an unmarried woman. Perhaps the 
 purpose of the crime had been to place this un- 
 known in comfortable circumstances. The authori- 
 ties had found no record at the prefecture of any 
 passport for that country issued to a woman. The 
 records at Paris had been consulted, in case the 
 accomplice had provided herself with a passport 
 there; but in vain; and the same with the neigh- 
 boring prefectures. The most trivial details of the 
 trial disclosed the deep thought of a superior mind. 
 If the most virtuous Limousin ladies attributed the 
 inexplicable use of dancing shoes for travelling about 
 in the mud and the fields to the necessity of keeping 
 watch on old Pingret, the least stupid men were 
 enchanted to explain how useful pumps were for 
 walking about in a house, creeping through corridors 
 and climbing up to windows without noise. It was 
 evident, therefore, that Jean-Francois and his mis- 
 tress young, beautiful, romantic; everyone im- 
 agined her a superb creature had intended to 
 commit forgery, and to insert the words and his 
 wife in the passport. In the evening, in all the 
 salons, the games were interrupted by the malicious 
 comments of people who, going back to March, 
 1829, enumerated the women who were at that time 
 visiting in Paris, and others who might, ostensibly 
 or secretly, have made preparations for flight. 
 Limoges enjoyed a second Fualdes trial, embellished 
 with an unknown Madame Manson. Never was a 
 town more puzzled than Limoges every evening 
 after the session. People dreamed of the trial, in
 
 84 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 which everything tended to magnify the prisoner, 
 whose replies, cunningly repeated, extended and 
 commented on, gave rise to abundant discussion. 
 When one of the jurors asked why Tascheron had 
 procured a passport for America, he replied that he 
 intended to set up a porcelain factory there. Thus, 
 without compromising his system of defence, he 
 continued to shield his accomplice, making it possi- 
 ble for everyone to attribute his crime to the neces- 
 sity of obtaining money to accomplish an ambitious 
 scheme. When these discussions were at their 
 height, it was inevitable that Veronique's friends, 
 some evening, when she seemed somewhat better, 
 should attempt to explain the criminal's reticence. 
 The day before, the doctor had prescribed a walk 
 for Veronique. That very morning, therefore, she 
 had taken her mother's arm and walked around the 
 outskirts of the town as far as La Sauviat's country- 
 house, where she had rested. Upon her return she 
 had attempted to remain on her feet and had waited 
 for her husband. Graslin did not return from the 
 court until eight o'clock; she came from her room to 
 serve his dinner as usual; she necessarily heard the 
 discussion of her friends. 
 
 "If my poor father were still alive," Veronique 
 said to them, "we should have known more about 
 it, or perhaps this man would never have become a 
 criminal. But I see that you are all engrossed by a 
 strange idea! You insist that love was the moving 
 principle of the crime: so far I agree with you; but 
 why do you think that the unknown is a married
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 85 
 
 woman? May he not have loved some young girl 
 whose father and mother refused him her hand?" 
 
 " A young unmarried woman would have be- 
 longed to him legitimately sooner or later," replied 
 Monsieur de Granville. " Tascheron is a man who 
 does not lack patience, he would have had time to 
 make his fortune by honest means, pending the time 
 when every girl is free to marry against her parents' 
 will." 
 
 " I did not know that such marriages were pos- 
 sible," said Madame Graslin; "but how is it that 
 there never has been the slightest suspicion in a 
 town where everyone knows everyone else, where 
 everyone sees what is going on at his neighbor's? 
 If two people are in love, they must see each other, 
 or at least must have seen each other! What do 
 you magistrates think?" she inquired, gazing ear- 
 nestly into the avocat-general's eyes. 
 
 "We all believe that the woman belongs to the 
 bourgeois or the commercial class." 
 
 " I think differently," said Madame Graslin, " a 
 woman of that kind has not sufficiently lofty senti- 
 ments." 
 
 This remark caused all eyes to be concentrated 
 upon Veronique, and the whole company awaited an 
 explanation of the paradox. 
 
 " During the hours of the night when I cannot 
 sleep, and as I lie in bed during the day, I have 
 found it impossible not to think of this mysterious 
 affair, and I have fancied that I could divine Tas- 
 cheron's motives. This is why I concluded that it
 
 86 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 was an unmarried girl. A married woman has self- 
 ish interests, if not sentiments, which have some 
 hold upon her heart, and prevent its attaining that 
 condition of absolute exaltation which inspires such 
 a great passion. One must be without children to 
 be capable of a love which combines the sentiment 
 of maternity with those sentiments that proceed 
 from desire. Evidently this man was loved by a 
 woman who wished to be his staff. The unknown 
 must have put forth in her passion the genius to 
 which we owe the fine works of artists and poets, 
 and which exists in woman, but in another shape: it 
 is destined to create men, not things. Our works 
 are our children! Our children are our pictures, 
 our books, our statues. Are we not artists in their 
 early education? So that I would be willing to 
 wager my head that the unknown, even if she be 
 not unmarried, is not a mother. The prosecuting 
 officers need the cunning of women in order to detect 
 innumerable fine distinctions which escape them on 
 many occasions. If I had been your deputy," she 
 said to the avocat-general, " we would have found 
 the guilty woman, assuming that the unknown is 
 guilty. I agree with Monsieur 1'Abbe Dutheil, that 
 the lovers had conceived the idea of fleeing with 
 poor Pingret's treasure, for lack of money to live in 
 America. The theft led to the murder, by the fatal 
 logic which the death penalty inspires in criminals. 
 And so," she continued, with a suppliant glance at 
 the avocat-general, " it would be a noble thing for 
 you to abandon the charge of premeditation, you
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 87 
 
 would save the wretched man's life. That man is 
 great, notwithstanding his crime; perhaps he would 
 atone for his errors by a glorious repentance. The 
 works of repentance should count for something in 
 the estimation of the law. Is there no better way 
 to-day, than to lose his head, or to found, as was 
 once done, the cathedral of Milan, in expiation of 
 his offences?" 
 
 "Your ideas are sublime, madame," said the 
 avocat-general; " but, with the premeditation elim- 
 inated, Tascheron would still be liable to the death 
 penalty, because of the grave circumstances, estab- 
 lished by proof, with which the theft was attended: 
 scaling the wall, entering the house in the night, 
 etc." 
 
 " Then you think that he will be convicted?" she 
 said, lowering her eyes. 
 
 " I am certain of it, the prosecution will win." 
 
 A slight shudder caused Madame Graslin's dress 
 to rustle. 
 
 " I am cold!" she said. 
 
 She took her mother's arm and went to bed. 
 
 "She is much better to-day," her friends said. 
 
 The next day Veronique was at death's door. 
 When her doctor expressed his amazement at find- 
 ing her so critically ill, she said to him, with a 
 smile: 
 
 " Did I not tell you that that walk would do me 
 no good?" 
 
 From the opening of the trial, Tascheron 's con- 
 duct was equally free from swaggering and from
 
 88 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 hypocrisy. The doctor, to amuse the invalid, tried 
 to account for this attitude, of which his defenders 
 made the best possible use. His counsel's skill 
 deceived the accused as to the result; he believed 
 that he would escape death, said the doctor. At 
 times people noticed on his face a hope which 
 seemed to have reference to a joy greater than that 
 of living. The man's antecedents he was twenty- 
 three years old at this time were so at variance 
 with the actions with which his life ended, that his 
 defenders put forward his attitude as conclusive evi- 
 dence in his favor. In like manner, the proofs, 
 which were overwhelming according to the theory 
 of the prosecution, became so weak in the roman- 
 tic hypothesis of the defence, that the chances in 
 the contest for the man's head were considered to 
 favor his counsel. In order to save his client's life, 
 the advocate fought desperately on the subject of 
 premeditation; he admitted, hypothetically, the pre- 
 meditation of the theft, not that of the homicides, 
 which were the result of two unforeseen struggles. 
 Success seemed doubtful to the prosecuting officers 
 themselves, as well as to the bar. 
 
 After the doctor's visit, Veronique received a call 
 from the avocat-general, who came to see her every 
 morning before the session. 
 
 "I read the arguments yesterday," she said. 
 " To-day the rebuttal will begin; I am so deeply- 
 interested in the prisoner that I would like to see 
 him acquitted; can you not, for once in your life, 
 renounce a triumph? Allow the prisoner's counsel
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 89 
 
 to whip you. Come, make me a present of this 
 life, and perhaps you will have mine some day! 
 There is a doubt, according to the fine argument of 
 Tascheron's advocate; very good " 
 
 "Your voice is trembling," said the viscount, in 
 some surprise. 
 
 "Do you know why?" she replied. "My hus- 
 band has suggested a ghastly coincidence, which, in 
 my precarious condition, might well cause my death: 
 1 shall be confined just at the time that you give the 
 order to cut off that man's head!" 
 
 "Can I revise the Code?" said the avocat-gene- 
 ral. 
 
 " Ah! you do not know how to love!" she replied, 
 closing her eyes. 
 
 She let her head fall on the pillow, and dismissed 
 the magistrate with an imperious gesture. 
 
 Monsieur Graslin argued earnestly but ineffec- 
 tually for acquittal, giving a reason which his wife 
 had suggested to him, and which was adopted by 
 two jurors who were friends of his: "If we give 
 this man his life, the Des Vanneaulx family will 
 recover Pingret's money." That irresistible argu- 
 ment led to a division among the jurors, who stood 
 seven against five, which necessitated the interposi- 
 tion of the court; but the court agreed with the 
 minority of the jury. According to the law then 
 in force, that combination resulted in a conviction. 
 When his sentence was pronounced, Tascheron fell 
 into a frenzy of rage not unnatural in a man full of 
 vigor and life, but which, according to the common
 
 90 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 experience of judges, counsel, jury, and spectators, 
 is seldom seen in criminals unjustly convicted. It 
 was the universal opinion, therefore, that the drama 
 was not concluded by the sentence. That desperate 
 battle gave rise, as almost always happens in such 
 cases, to two diametrically opposite opinions con- 
 cerning the guilt of the hero, in whom some saw a 
 persecuted innocent, others a criminal justly con- 
 demned. The liberals maintained Tascheron's inno- 
 cence, less from conviction than as a means of 
 annoying the government. 
 
 "The idea," they said, "of convicting a man 
 because of a similarity between his foot and the 
 print of another foot! Or on account of his absence! 
 as if every young man would not prefer to die 
 rather than compromise a woman! Or was it be- 
 cause he borrowed tools and bought iron? for it 
 wasn't proved that he made the key. Or because 
 of a bit of blue cotton hung on a tree, perhaps by 
 old Pingret himself to scare away the sparrows, and 
 that happens to match a rent in one's blouse? What 
 is a man's life good for? And Jean-Francois denies 
 everything; the prosecution hasn't produced a single 
 witness who saw the crime!" 
 
 They approved, expanded, paraphrased the the- 
 ory and the arguments of the prisoner's coun- 
 sel. "What was old Pingret? A burst strong-box!" 
 said the wits. Some alleged radicals, disregarding 
 the sacred laws of property, which the Saint- 
 Simonians were already attacking in the abstract 
 order of economical ideas, went still further: " Pdre
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE QI 
 
 Pingret was the original author of the crime. That 
 man, by hoarding gold as he did, robbed his country. 
 How many enterprises might have been made pro- 
 ductive by his useless capital! He had blocked the 
 wheels of business, he was justly punished." The 
 servant? they were sorry for her. Denise, who, 
 after evading the wiles of the prosecution, did not 
 allow herself to make an answer at the trial until 
 she had reflected a long while upon what she should 
 say, aroused the keenest interest. She was trans- 
 formed into a figure comparable, in some sense, to 
 Jeanie Deans, whose grace and modesty, religious 
 principles and beauty, she possessed. Jean-Francois 
 Tascheron continued, therefore, to monopolize the 
 interest, not of the town alone, but of the whole 
 department, and some romantic women openly ac- 
 corded him their admiration. 
 
 "If there is a passion for a woman of higher 
 station than himself behind all this," they said, 
 "that man certainly is no ordinary man. You will 
 see that he will die bravely!" 
 
 The question: "Will he speak or will he not?" 
 gave rise to wagers. Since the frantic outbreak 
 with which he had received his sentence, and which 
 might have been fatal to some of the court officials 
 or spectators had it not been for the presence of 
 the gendarmes, the criminal threatened all who 
 approached him, indiscriminately, and with the fury 
 of a wild beast; the jailer was forced to put a 
 strait-jacket on him as much to prevent his attempt- 
 ing to take his own life, as to avoid the effects of his
 
 92 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 frenzy. When he was thus triumphantly rendered 
 incapable of any sort of violence, Tascheron gave 
 vent to his despair in convulsive movements which 
 frightened his keepers, in words and glances which 
 in the Middle Ages would have been attributed to 
 possession by a devil. He was so young that the 
 women were moved to pity touching that life so full 
 of love, which was to be cut short. The Last Day 
 of a Condemned, a gloomy elegy, a fruitless argument 
 against the death penalty, that great prop of society, 
 which had appeared a short time before, as if writ- 
 ten expressly for the occasion, was the order of the 
 day in all conversations. Lastly, who did not point 
 with his finger to the invisible unknown, standing 
 with her feet bathed in blood, upon the floor of 
 the court-room, as upon a pedestal, torn by horrible 
 agony and compelled to maintain a perfectly tranquil 
 demeanor in her own home? People almost admired 
 that Limousin Medea, with the white breast covering 
 a heart of steel, and the impenetrable mask. Per- 
 haps she was in this one's family or that one's, the 
 sister or the cousin, the wife or daughter of such a 
 one! What terror in the bosom of families! As 
 Napoleon sublimely said, it is especially in the do- 
 main of the imagination that the power of the 
 unknown is immeasurable. 
 
 As for the hundred thousand francs stolen from 
 Monsieur and Madame des Vanneaulx, which the 
 police had been absolutely unable to find, the crimi- 
 nal's unbroken silence was singularly discomfiting to 
 the prosecution. Monsieur de Granville, who acted
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 93 
 
 in the place of the procur cur-general, then in his 
 seat in the Chamber of Deputies, tried the common 
 method of giving the condemned man reason to hope 
 for commutation of sentence in case of full con- 
 fession; but when he made his appearance, the 
 criminal greeted him with fierce cries of redoubled 
 violence, with epileptic contortions, and glared at 
 him with eyes flaming with rage and expressing 
 regret at his inability to kill him. The authorities 
 did not call upon the Church for assistance until the 
 last moment. The Des Vanneaulx had been many 
 times to Abbe Pascal, the chaplain of the prison. 
 That priest was not lacking in the peculiar talent re- 
 quired to induce the prisoners to listen to him; he 
 defied, as in duty bound, Tascheron's passionate 
 outbreaks, he tried to interject a few words amid 
 the tempests of that powerful nature in a state of 
 convulsion. But the conflict of that spiritual father- 
 hood with the whirlwind of those unchained passions 
 crushed and wearied poor Abbe Pascal. 
 
 " That man has found his paradise here on earth," 
 said the old man, in an undertone. 
 
 Little Madame des Vanneaulx consulted her friends 
 as to whether she should venture to approach the 
 criminal. Monsieur des Vanneaulx talked of a com- 
 promise. In his despair, he went to Monsieur de 
 Granville to propose suing for the pardon of his 
 uncle's assassin if he would restore the hundred 
 thousand francs. The avocat-general replied that 
 the king's majesty did not stoop to such com- 
 promises. Then the Des Vanneaulx turned to
 
 94 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Tascheron's advocate, and offered him ten per cent, 
 of the amount if he could succeed in recovering it. 
 The advocate was the only man at sight of whom 
 Tascheron did not fly into a passion; the heirs 
 authorized him to offer the criminal another ten 
 per cent., which he could use for the benefit of his 
 family. Despite the incisions which those beavers 
 thus made in their inheritance, and despite his 
 eloquence, the advocate could obtain no concession 
 from his client. The Des Vanneaulx, in their rage, 
 cursed and anathematized the condemned man. 
 
 " Not only is he an assassin, but he has no sense 
 of delicacy!" cried Des Vanneaulx, in all seriousness, 
 ignorant of Fualdes's famous lament, when he learned 
 of Abbe Pascal's non-success, and realized that all 
 would be lost by the probable dismissal of the appeal. 
 "What good will our fortune do him where he is 
 going? As for a murder, one can conceive of that, 
 but useless robbery is inconceivable. What times 
 we live in, that society people should be interested 
 in such a cut-throat! There's nothing in his favor." 
 
 " He's anything but honorable," said Madame des 
 Vanneaulx. 
 
 " But suppose the restitution would compromise 
 his dear friend?" said an old maid. 
 
 "We would keep the secret!" cried Monsieur des 
 Vanneaulx. 
 
 " You would be guilty of concealing crime," sug- 
 gested a lawyer. 
 
 " Oh! the beggar!" was Monsieur des Vanneaulx's 
 conclusion.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 95 
 
 One of the women of Madame Graslin's circle, 
 who laughingly described to her the perplexities of 
 the Des Vanneaulx, a very bright woman, one of 
 those who dream of the ideally beautiful and wish 
 everything to be complete, regretted the frantic con- 
 duct of the condemned man; she would have liked 
 him to be cold and calm and dignified. 
 
 "Don't you see," Veronique said to her, "that 
 in that way he avoids and baffles all attempts to 
 change his determination? He has become a wild 
 beast for that purpose." 
 
 " Besides, he's not a man of refinement," rejoined 
 the exiled Parisian, " he's a workman." 
 
 "A man of refinement would soon have made 
 an end of the unknown woman!" replied Madame 
 Graslin. 
 
 These events, jumbled together and distorted in 
 salons and domestic circles, commented on in a thou- 
 sand ways, and dissected by the most skilful tongues 
 in the town, imparted a cruel interest to the execu- 
 tion of the criminal, whose appeal was dismissed by 
 the supreme court two months later. What would be 
 the murderer's attitude in his last moments, boasting 
 as he did that he would make the execution impos- 
 sible by fighting desperately? Would he speak? 
 would he break his word? who would win the bet? 
 Will you go? will you not go? how is one to go? 
 The location of the place of execution, which spares 
 the culprit the agony of a long ride, restricts the 
 number of fashionable spectators at Limoges. The 
 Palais de Justice, where the prison is, stands at the
 
 96 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 corner of Rue du Palais and Rue du Pont-Herisson. 
 Rue du Palais is continued in a straight line by a 
 short street, Rue de Monte-a-Regret, which leads to 
 Place d'Aine or des Arenes, where executions take 
 place, to which circumstance the square doubtless 
 owes its name. Thus the distance is short, conse- 
 quently there are few houses and few windows. 
 What man or woman of the upper class would care to 
 mix with the vulgar crowd who would fill the square? 
 But that execution, expected from day to day, was 
 postponed from day to day, to the great surprise of 
 the town; and for this reason. The pious resigna- 
 tion of great criminals on their way to their death 
 is one of the triumphs which the Church reserves-to 
 itself, and which rarely fail of their effect upon the 
 common herd; the repentance of men condemned to 
 death attests so strongly the power of religious ideas 
 that, aside from any Christian motive, although that 
 should be the principal aim of the Church, the clergy 
 are naturally heart-broken by failure on these con- 
 spicuous occasions. In July, 1829, matters were 
 aggravated by party spirit, which envenomed the 
 most trivial details of political life. The liberal 
 party rejoiced to observe the failure on such a public 
 occasion of the "priest party," an expression in- 
 vented by Montlosier, a royalist who had gone over 
 to the constitutionalists and was drawn on by them 
 further than he intended. Parties, en masse, commit 
 infamous deeds which would cover a man with oblo- 
 quy; and so, when a man personifies them all in the 
 eyes of the mob, he becomes Robespierre, Jeffries,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 97 
 
 Laubardemont, expiatory altars, so to speak, upon 
 which all their accomplices secretly hang ex-votos. 
 By agreement with the bishop's palace, the prose- 
 cuting office delayed the execution, in the hope of 
 finding out those circumstances of the crime which 
 were as yet unknown, no less than of allowing 
 religion to triumph. 
 
 However, the power of the prosecuting attorney 
 in that respect was not unlimited, and the sentence 
 must be executed sooner or later. The same lib- 
 erals who, in a spirit of opposition, looked upon 
 Tascheron as innocent, and who had tried to nullify 
 the sentence of the law, murmured now because 
 that sentence was not executed. Opposition, when 
 it is systematic, is guilty of such contradictions; for, 
 from its standpoint, it is not a question of right or 
 wrong, but of always railing at the government. 
 Thus, early in August, the prosecution's hand was 
 forced by that clamor, often utterly senseless, called 
 public opinion. The date of the execution was an- 
 nounced. In that emergency, Abbe Dutheil took it 
 upon himself to suggest to the bishop one last ex- 
 pedient, the success of which was to introduce in 
 this judicial drama the extraordinary individual who 
 serves to connect all the others, who is the grandest 
 of all the figures in this Scene, and who was des- 
 tined to lead Madame Graslin, by paths familiar to 
 Providence, to the stage where her virtues shone 
 forth with the greatest brilliancy, where she showed 
 herself a sublime benefactress and an angelic Chris- 
 tian woman. 
 
 7
 
 98 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 The episcopal palace at Limoges is situated on 
 a hill beside the Vienne, and its gardens, which 
 are supported by strong walls surrounded by bal- 
 ustrades, descend in terraces, following the natural 
 fall of the ground. The hill is so high that Fau- 
 bourg Saint-Etienne, on the other bank, seems 
 to lie at the foot of the last terrace. From there 
 the river unfolds itself, either in its length or in 
 its width, according to the direction in which you 
 walk, and always in the midst of a rich pano- 
 rama. Toward the west, beyond the gardens of 
 the palace, the Vienne rushes upon the town in 
 a graceful curve, skirting Faubourg Saint-Martial. 
 Beyond that faubourg, a short distance, is a pretty 
 country-house called Le Cluzeau, whose shrubbery 
 can be seen from the terraces nearest the river, and, 
 by an effect of perspective, blends with the steeples 
 of the faubourg. Opposite Le Cluzeau is that 
 sloping islet, covered with a growth of poplars, 
 which Veronique in her early youth called He de 
 France. To the, east, in the distance, lie hills in 
 the shape of an amphitheatre. The loveliness of the 
 location and the noble simplicity of the building 
 make that palace the most notable monument in the 
 town, where the buildings do not arouse admiration 
 either by choice of materials or by architectural 
 merit. 
 
 Having long been familiar with the views which 
 commend those gardens to persons who travel in 
 quest of the picturesque, Abbe Dutheil, who was 
 accompanied by Monsieur de Grancour, descended
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 99 
 
 from terrace to terrace, heedless of the bright red, 
 the orange, and violet tints which the setting sun 
 cast upon the old walls and the balustrades, upon 
 the houses in the faubourg, and the waters of the 
 river. He was in search of the bishop, who was 
 seated at that moment in the corner of the lowest ter- 
 race under an arbor of vines, where he had come to 
 eat his dessert, yielding to the charm of the evening. 
 The poplars on the island seemed to cleave the 
 waters with the lengthened shadows of their 
 branches, already turning yellow, to which the sun 
 gave the appearance of a mass of golden foliage. 
 The beams of the setting sun, reflected diversely 
 by the masses of varying greens, produced a mag- 
 nificent combination of melancholy tones. In the 
 depths of the valley the Vienne shivered in the 
 faint evening breeze, like a sheet of gold-spangled 
 bubbles, bringing out in relief the flat brown surfaces 
 presented by the roofs of Faubourg Saint-Etienne. 
 The steeples and roofs of Faubourg Saint-Martial, 
 bathed in light, blended with the vines on the trel- 
 lises. The gentle murmur of a provincial town, 
 half hidden in the curve of the river, the soft- 
 ness of the air, all contributed to plunge the prel- 
 ate into the tranquil frame of mind insisted upon by 
 all authors who have written upon the digestion; 
 his eyes were fixed mechanically on the right bank 
 of the river, at the spot where the long shadows of 
 the poplars on the island touched, on the Faubourg 
 Saint-Etienne shore, the walls of the field in which 
 the double murder of old Pingret and his servant
 
 100 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 had been committed; but when his petty, momen- 
 tary felicity was interrupted by the difficulties of 
 which his vicars-general reminded him, his looks 
 were filled with impenetrable thoughts. The two 
 priests attributed his distraction to ennui, whereas, 
 on the contrary, the prelate saw in the sands of the 
 Vienne the solution of the enigma which the Des 
 Vanneaulx and the officers of the law were then 
 seeking. 
 
 "Monseigneur," said Abbede Grancour, approach- 
 ing the bishop, " nothmg is of any avail, we shall 
 have the sorrow of seeing that unhappy Tascheron 
 die unshriven; he will utter the most horrible im- 
 precations against religion, he will overwhelm poor 
 Abbe Pascal with insults, he will spit upon the cru- 
 cifix, he will deny everything, even hell." 
 
 " He will terrify the people," said Abbe Dutheil. 
 " That great scandal and the horror he will -inspire 
 will cover our defeat and our helplessness. And 
 so, as I said to Monsieur de Grancour, on our way 
 hither, this spectacle will send more than one sinner 
 into the bosom of the Church." 
 
 Disturbed by these words, the bishop placed the 
 bunch of grapes at which he was picking upon a 
 rustic wooden table, and wiped his fingers, motion- 
 ing to his two vicars-general to be seated. 
 
 " Abbe Pascal is ill," he said, at last. 
 
 "He is ill as a result of his last scene at the 
 prison," said Abbe de Grancour. "Except for his 
 indisposition, we should have brought him to ex- 
 plain the difficulties which make it impossible to try
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE IOI 
 
 any of the expedients which monseigneur ordered us 
 to try." 
 
 " The condemned man sings obscene songs at the 
 top of his voice as soon as he sees one of us, and 
 drowns the words we try to say to him," said a 
 young priest who was seated near the bishop. 
 
 This young man, who had a charming face, rested 
 his right elbow on the table, his white hand played 
 carelessly with the bunches of grapes from which he 
 selected the ripest fruit with the ease and familiarity 
 of a member of the household or a favorite. He was 
 the younger brother of the Comte de Rastignac, at- 
 tached by family ties and by ties of affection to the 
 Bishop of Limoges, and was at once a member of his 
 household and his favorite. In consideration of the 
 pecuniary reasons which caused the young man to 
 enter the Church, the bishop had taken him as his 
 private secretary, pending an opportunity for promo- 
 tion. Abbe Gabriel bore a name which marked him 
 out for the most exalted dignities of the Church. 
 
 " Have you been there, my son?" said the bishop. 
 
 "Yes, monseigneur; as soon as I appeared, the 
 wretch poured forth the most disgusting insults to 
 you and myself; he acted in such a way as to make 
 it impossible for a priest to remain in his presence. 
 Will monseigneur allow me to give him some advice?" 
 
 " Let us listen to the wisdom which God some- 
 times puts in the mouths of children," said the 
 bishop, with a smile. 
 
 " Did He not make Balaam's ass speak?" replied 
 the young Abbe de Rastignac, quickly.
 
 102 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "According to some commentators, she had none 
 too clear an idea of what she was saying," laughed 
 the bishop. 
 
 The two vicars-general smiled; in the first place, 
 the jest was monseigneur's; and then it was mildly 
 sarcastic at the expense of the young abbe, of whom 
 the dignitaries and ambitious priests who surrounded 
 the prelate were jealous. 
 
 " My advice," said the young abbe, " would be to 
 request Monsieur de Granville to postpone the exe- 
 cution once more. When the condemned man knows 
 that he owes a reprieve for several days to our inter- 
 cession, perhaps he will make a pretence of listening 
 to us, and if he once listens to us " 
 
 " He will persist in his conduct, when he sees the 
 advantages it affords him," said the bishop, inter- 
 rupting his favorite. " Messieurs," he continued, 
 after a moment's silence, "does the town know of 
 these details?" 
 
 "Where is the house in which they are not dis- 
 cussed?" said Abbe de Grancour. "The state to 
 which his last effort has brought good Abbe Pascal 
 is the one subject of conversation at this mo- 
 ment." 
 
 "When is Tascheron to be executed?" inquired 
 the bishop. 
 
 "To-morrow, market-day," replied Monsieur de 
 Grancour. 
 
 "Messieurs, religion must never accept the under- 
 hand!" cried the bishop. "The more public atten- 
 tion is aroused by this affair, the more I desire to
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 103 
 
 obtain a notorious triumph. The Church is face 
 to face with a difficult crisis. We are compelled to 
 perform miracles in a manufacturing town, where 
 the spirit of sedition against religious and mon- 
 archical doctrines has put forth deep roots, where the 
 idea of close scrutiny, born of Protestantism and 
 to-day known as Liberalism, with liberty to adopt 
 another name to-morrow, extends to everything. 
 Go, messieurs, to Monsieur de Granville; he is with 
 us; tell him that we request a reprieve for a few 
 days. I will go to see this unhappy man." 
 
 "You, monseigneur!" said Abbe de Rastignac. 
 " If you fail, will you not have imperilled too many 
 things? You should not go unless you are sure of 
 success." 
 
 " If monseigneur will permit me to give my 
 opinion," said Abbe Dutheil, " I think that I shall 
 be able to suggest a method of assuring the triumph 
 of the religion in this deplorable affair." 
 
 The prelate replied with a somewhat cold sign of 
 assent, which showed how little credit the vicar- 
 general had with him. 
 
 " If any man can exert authority over that rebel- 
 lious soul and bring it back to God," continued Abbe 
 Dutheil, "that man is the cure of the village where 
 he was born, Monsieur Bonnet." 
 
 " One of your proteges," observed the bishop. 
 
 " Monseigneur, Monsieur le Cure Bonnet is one of 
 those men who protect themselves, both by their 
 militant virtues and by their works in furtherance of 
 the gospel."
 
 104 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 That reply, so modest and so simple, was greeted 
 by a silence that would have embarrassed any other 
 than Abbe Dutheil; it spoke of unappreciated people, 
 and the three priests chose to see in it one of those 
 humble but irreproachable, skilfully polished sar- 
 casms characteristic of ecclesiastics, who are accus- 
 tomed to observe the strictest rules, while saying 
 what they wish to say. But it was nothing of the 
 sort; Abbe Dutheil never thought of himself. 
 
 " I have heard of Saint Aristides too long," replied 
 the bishop, with a smile. " If I should leave that 
 light under a bushel, it would be either injustice or 
 prejudice on my part. Your liberals extol your Mon- 
 sieur Bonnet as if he belonged to their party, and I 
 wish to pass judgment myself upon this rural apostle. 
 Go to the procureur-general, messieurs, and ask in 
 my name for a reprieve; I will await his reply before 
 sending our dear Abbe Gabriel to Montegnac, whence 
 he will bring this holy man to us. We will place His 
 Beatitude in a position to perform miracles." 
 
 As he listened to that harangue of the nobleman 
 prelate, Abbe Dutheil blushed; but he did not choose 
 to take umbrage at what was offensive to himself in 
 his words. The two vicars-general saluted in silence, 
 and left the bishop with his favorite. 
 
 " The secrets of the confession which we seek to 
 obtain are, doubtless, buried there," said the bishop 
 to his young abbe, pointing to the shadows of the 
 poplars where they fell upon an isolated house be- 
 tween the islet and Faubourg Saint-Etienne. 
 
 "I have always thought so," replied Gabriel.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 105 
 
 " I am not a magistrate, I do not choose to be a 
 spy; but, if I had been a magistrate, I would have 
 learned the name of the woman who trembles at 
 every sound, at every word, and whose brow, never- 
 theless, must remain calm and untroubled on pain of 
 accompanying the condemned man to the scaffold. 
 But she has nothing to fear; I have seen the man, 
 he will carry the secret of his fervent love with him 
 into the darkness." 
 
 " Little fox!" said the bishop, pulling the secre- 
 tary's ear, and pointing to a spot between the island 
 and Faubourg Saint-Etienne, upon which the last red 
 flame of the setting sun shone brightly, and upon 
 which the young priest's eyes were fixed. " The 
 law should have searched there, eh?" 
 
 " I went to see the criminal to try the effect of my 
 suspicions upon him; but he is guarded by spies; by 
 speaking aloud, I should have compromised the per- 
 son for whom he is dying." 
 
 "Let us hold our peace," said the bishop, "we 
 are not the officers of man's law. One head is 
 enough. Besides, this secret will come to the 
 Church sooner or later." 
 
 The perspicacity which the habit of meditation 
 imparts to priests is far superior to that of prose- 
 cuting attorneys and police. By dint of contem- 
 plating the scene of the crime from the summit of 
 their terraces, the prelate and his secretary had, in 
 truth, at last discovered details still unknown, 
 despite the investigations of the examining magis- 
 trate and the trial in the Assize court.
 
 106 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Monsieur de Granville was playing whist at 
 Madame Graslin's, and they had to await his re- 
 turn; his decision was not known at the bishop's 
 palace until toward midnight. Abbe Gabriel, to 
 whom the bishop lent his carriage, started for Mon- 
 tegnac about two in the morning. That village, 
 about nine leagues from Limoges, lies in that part 
 of the Limousin which skirts the mountains of La 
 Corrze and adjoins La Creuse. The young abbe 
 left Limoges in the grasp of all the passions aroused 
 by the spectacle promised for the following day, 
 which was, however, to disappoint it once more.
 
 Ill 
 
 THE CURE OF MONTEGNAC 
 
 Priests and devotees have a tendency to observe 
 the strictest legal rules in the matter of expenditure. 
 Is it poverty? Is it a result of the selfishness to 
 which their isolation condemns them and which facil- 
 itates the inclination of mankind to avarice? Is it a 
 result of the parsimony compelled by the exercise of 
 charity? Each case presents a different explana- 
 tion. Concealed often beneath an attractive amia- 
 bility, often, too, entirely sincere, this repugnance 
 to putting the hand in the pocket is especially notice- 
 able in travelling. Gabriel de Rastignac, the pretti- 
 est youth whom the altars had seen for a long time 
 bending his head beneath their tabernacles, gave 
 only thirty sous pourboire to the postilions; conse- 
 quently, his progress was slow. Postilions treat 
 with great respect the bishops who only double 
 their wages, but they do no damage to the episco- 
 pal carriage for fear of incurring disgrace. Abbe 
 Gabriel, who was travelling alone for the first time, 
 said mildly at every station: 
 
 " Pray drive faster, Messieurs les Postilions!" 
 
 (107)
 
 108 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "We don't play with the whip," replied an 
 old postilion, " unless passengers play with their 
 thumbs!" 
 
 The young abbe buried himself in the corner of 
 the carriage, unable to understand that reply. As a 
 means of distraction, he studied the country he was 
 passing through, and he walked up several of the 
 hills over which the road from Bordeaux to Lyon 
 winds. 
 
 Five leagues from Limoges, the sunny sloping 
 shores of the Vienne, and the pleasant fields of 
 the Limousin, which remind one of Switzerland in 
 some places, especially at Saint-Leonard, are suc- 
 ceeded by a desolate and depressing region. There 
 are vast, untilled fields, and plains without grass or 
 horses, but bordered on the horizon by the heights 
 of La Correze. Those mountains present to the 
 traveller's eye neither the perpendicular cliffs of 
 the Alps and their sublime rents and fissures, nor 
 the gorges, warm with color, and desolate peaks 
 of the Apennines, nor the grandeur of the Pyre- 
 nees; their undulations, due to the movement of the 
 waters, indicate the subsidence of the great catas- 
 trophe, and the tranquillity with which the liquid 
 masses withdrew. This aspect of the country, com- 
 mon to most of the hilly regions in France, has con- 
 tributed, perhaps, as much as the climate to earn for 
 it the epithet of mild, which Europe has confirmed. 
 If that contrast between the uninteresting landscapes 
 of the Limousin and those of La Marche and Auvergne 
 presents to the thinker and the poet who pass that
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 109 
 
 way images of the infinite, the terror of some minds; 
 if it inclines to revive the woman who is suffering 
 from ennui in her carriage, to the native that region 
 is wild and rough and devoid of resource. The soil of 
 those vast grayish plains is ungrateful. The prox- 
 imity of a capital alone could duplicate the miracle 
 that has been wrought in Brie during the past two 
 centuries. But there are none of those great estates 
 which sometimes give life to those deserts where 
 the husbandman sees only waste places, where 
 civilization wrings its hands, where the tourist finds 
 neither inns nor that which most delights him, the 
 picturesque. Elevated minds do not dislike those 
 moors, essential shadows in the vast tableau of 
 nature. Within a short time, Cooper, that melan- 
 choly genius, has magnificently developed the poetic 
 character of these solitudes, in The Prairie. These 
 tracts, neglected by plant life, covered with un- 
 fruitful mineral rubbish, with smooth stones and 
 dead earth, are challenges to civilization. France 
 should accept the solution of these difficulties as the 
 English accept those presented by Scotland, where 
 their patient, their heroic toil has transformed the 
 barrenest moors into productive farms. If left in 
 their primitive wild state, these social fallow-lands 
 engender discouragement, sloth, weakness from lack 
 of sustenance, and crime when want speaks too 
 loud. 
 
 These few words tell the past history of Montegnac. 
 What was to be done with a vast untilled field, 
 neglected by the government, abandoned by the
 
 110 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 nobility, cursed by the manufacturing class? Make 
 war on society, which does not understand its 
 duties! And so the people of Montegnac formerly 
 subsisted by theft and murder, as the Scotch of the 
 Highlands used to do. From the very aspect of the 
 country, the thinking man can readily imagine why, 
 twenty years earlier, the people of that village were 
 at war with society. That great plateau, bounded 
 on one side by the valley of the Vienne, on the 
 other by the pretty dales of La Marche and by 
 Auvergne, and isolated by the mountains of La 
 Correze, resembles, agriculture aside, the plateau of 
 La Beauce, which separates the basin of the Loire 
 from the basin of the Seine, or those of Touraine 
 and Berri and so many others which are like facets 
 on the surface of France and numerous enough to 
 occupy the thoughts of the greatest administrators. 
 It is a most extraordinary thing that people should 
 complain of the constant upward movement of the 
 masses of the people toward the higher social levels, 
 and that a government should discover no remedy 
 for it in a country where statistics tell us that sev- 
 eral millions of acres of land are lying fallow, on 
 certain portions of which, as in Berri, for instance, 
 there are seven or eight feet of vegetable mould! 
 Many of these tracts, which would feed whole vil- 
 lages, which would produce immense crops, belong 
 to obstinate communes, which refuse to sell them to 
 speculators in order to retain the right to pasture a 
 few hundred cows there. Upon all this unproduc- 
 tive territory is written the word Incapacity. Every
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE III 
 
 soil has some special sort of fertility. Not arms 
 nor goodwill are lacking, but administrative con- 
 science and talent. In France, up to the present 
 time, these plateaus have been sacrificed to the 
 valleys; the government has given its assistance, 
 has expended its labors there, where its protection 
 was not needed. Most of these unfortunate soli- 
 tudes lack water, the first principle of all production. 
 The mists which might fertilize that dead, gray soil 
 by discharging their oxides upon it, sweep swiftly 
 by, borne onward by the wind, because of the 
 absence of trees which, everywhere else, check 
 their course and pump from them their nutritious 
 substance. In many places of this sort, to plant 
 would be like preaching the gospel. 
 
 Separated from the nearest large town by a dis- 
 tance which was too great for poor folk to travel, 
 and which placed a desert between it and them; 
 having no outlet for their produce if they had pro- 
 duced anything; planted beside an unexploited forest, 
 which provided them with wood and the uncertain 
 sustenance of poaching, the natives were hard 
 pressed by hunger in winter. As the soil was not 
 suited to the production of grain, the unfortunate 
 creatures had neither cattle nor farming-tools; they 
 lived on chestnuts. Those persons who, while 
 taking a general view, in a museum, of the zoolog- 
 ical products of the world, have experienced the 
 indescribable melancholy caused by the sight of 
 the brown tones which characterize the products 
 of Europe, will understand perhaps how great an
 
 112 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 influence the sight of those grizzly plains is likely to 
 exert upon one's mental condition, by virtue of the 
 depressing suggestion of barrenness which they con- 
 stantly present. There is neither freshness nor 
 shade nor contrast, none of the ideas, none of the 
 sights which rejoice the heart. There one would 
 embrace a poor stunted apple-tree as one would a 
 friend. 
 
 A departmental road, recently built, diverged from 
 the main road and crossed this plateau. A few leagues 
 away, at the foot of a hill, as its name indicated, lay 
 Montegnac, the chief town of a canton at which 
 one of the arrondissements of Haute-Vienne begin. 
 The hill belongs to Montegnac, which includes moun- 
 tain and plain within its limits. The commune is a 
 miniature Scotland, with its lowlands and highlands. 
 Behind the hill, at the foot of which lies the village, 
 and distant about a league, rises the first peak of the 
 Correze chain. In the interval lies the great forest, 
 called Montegnac forest, which begins on the hill of 
 Montegnac, descends it, fills the valleys and barren 
 hillsides, stripped bare in spots, climbs the mountain 
 and extends to the Aubusson road by a tongue of 
 woodland which comes to an end on a steep bank 
 beside that road. The bank overlooks a gorge 
 through which runs the high-road from Bordeaux to 
 Lyon. Carriages, travellers, and pedestrians had 
 often been stopped in the depths of that dangerous 
 gorge by robbers, whose depredations went unpun- 
 ished: the location favored their escape; they made 
 their way, by hidden paths, to the inaccessible parts
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 113 
 
 of the forest. Such a region offered little encourage- 
 ment to the investigations of the officers of the law. 
 No one passed that way. Without circulation, there 
 can be neither commerce, nor manufactures, nor 
 exchange of ideas, nor wealth of any sort; the mar- 
 vellous physical achievements of civilization are 
 always the result of an application of primitive 
 ideas. Thought is always the point of departure 
 and the point of arrival of every society. The 
 history of Montegnac affords a proof of that axiom of 
 social science. When the government was able to 
 give its attention to the urgent, material needs of 
 the district, it felled the tongue of forest, and sta- 
 tioned there a detachment of gendarmes, who es- 
 corted vehicles and travellers over the two stages; 
 but, to the shame of the gendarmerie, it was the 
 word and not the sword, Bonnet the cure and not 
 Brigadier Chervin, who won that civil battle by 
 changing the moral character of the people. That 
 priest, impelled by a religious affection for that im- 
 poverished country-side, tried to regenerate it and 
 accomplished his object. 
 
 After travelling about an hour across those bare 
 plains, alternately stony and dusty, where the par- 
 tridges went their way undisturbed in flocks, making 
 the familiar dull and heavy whirr with their wings, 
 as they rose at the approach of the carriage, Abbe 
 Gabriel, like all travellers who have taken that 
 journey, felt a thrill of pleasure as he caught sight 
 of the roofs of the village. At the entrance to Mon- 
 tegnac is one of those curious relay stations which 
 8
 
 114 T HE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 are seen only in France. Its sign consists of an oak 
 board whereon some ambitious postilion has written 
 the words Pauste o chevos Paste a chevaux in very 
 black ink, and nailed it with four nails over the door of 
 a wretched stable in which there is no horse. The 
 door, which is almost always open, has for a thresh- 
 old a plank set on its edge to keep the rain-water 
 from flooding the floor of the stable, which is lower 
 than the road. The despondent traveller spies 
 mildewed, worn-out, mended harnesses, ready to 
 give way at the first pull of the horses. The horses 
 are ploughing or in the hayfield, always somewhere 
 else than in the stable. If they do happen to be in 
 the stable, they are feeding; if they have had their 
 feed, the postilion is at his aunt's or his cousin's; he 
 is putting in hay or he is asleep; no one knows 
 where he is, you must wait until someone has 
 hunted him up, and he does not come until he has 
 finished what he is doing; when he finally arrives, 
 an interminable time passes before he has found his 
 jacket or his whip, or harnessed his horses. A 
 stout, good-humored woman, standing on the steps 
 of the house, is more annoyed than the traveller, 
 and, to prevent him from giving way to his temper, 
 moves about more actively than the horses will ever 
 do. She is the postmistress, whose husband is at 
 work in the fields. 
 
 Monseigneur's favorite left his carriage in front 
 of a stable of that description, the walls of which 
 resembled a map, while its thatched roof, blossom- 
 ing like a flower-bed, sagged under the weight of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 115 
 
 vegetation upon it. After requesting the mistress 
 to make everything ready for his departure, which 
 would take place in an hour, he inquired the way to 
 the rectory; the good woman pointed to a lane be- 
 tween two houses, which led to the church, and said 
 that the rectory was close by. 
 
 While the young abbe climbed the stony path, 
 enclosed by hedges, the postmistress questioned 
 the postilion. All the way from Limoges, each 
 postilion, on arriving at a relay station, had told his 
 confrere who was to continue the journey, of the 
 conjectures afloat at the bishop's palace, as promul- 
 gated by the postilion from the capital. So that, 
 while the people at Limoges were leaving their beds 
 and talking about the impending execution of Pere 
 Pingret's assassin, the country people all along the 
 road told of the innocent man's pardon, obtained by 
 the bishop, and chattered about the alleged errors of 
 human justice. If Jean-Francois should be executed 
 later, perhaps he would be regarded as a martyr. 
 
 After walking a few steps up the path, reddened 
 by the autumn leaves and black with wild rasp- 
 berries and plums, Abbe Gabriel turned in obedi- 
 ence to the instinctive impulse which leads us all to 
 look closely at places which we visit for the first 
 time, a sort of inborn physical curiosity which we 
 share with horses and dogs. The situation of Mon- 
 tegnac was explained to him by several streams 
 which ran down the hill, and by a small river 
 skirted by the departmental road which connects 
 the village with the prefecture. Like all the villages
 
 Il6 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 on that plateau, Montegnac is built of earth dried in 
 the sun and made into blocks. After a fire, a build- 
 ing might be found built of brick. The roofs are 
 of thatch. Everything indicated the prevalence of 
 poverty. Beside the road, before reaching the vil- 
 lage, were several fields of buckwheat, radishes, 
 and potatoes, rescued from the moor. On the 
 slope of the hill he descried some irrigated fields, in 
 which are raised the famous Limousin horses, said 
 to have been a legacy from the Arabs when they 
 descended from the Pyrenees into France, to fall, 
 between Poitiers and Tours, under the battle-axes 
 of the Franks commanded by Charles Martel. The 
 heights had a withered look. Scorched, reddish, glis- 
 tening spots denoted the arid land where the chestnut 
 flourishes. The water, carefully diverted for purposes 
 of irrigation, gave life only to the fields, bordered 
 by chestnut-trees and surrounded by hedges, where 
 the fine, sweet grass grew, short and sparse, which 
 produces that breed of fine-limbed, delicate horses, 
 unable to endure great fatigue, but showy, excellent 
 for use in the district in which they are born, and 
 likely to deteriorate when transplanted. Some mul- 
 berry-trees, recently imported, indicated a purpose to 
 cultivate the silk-worm. 
 
 Like most villages the world over, Montegnac had 
 but a single street, which was a continuation of the 
 departmental road. But there were an upper and a 
 lower Montegnac, each divided by lanes running into 
 the street at right angles. A row of houses on the 
 brow of the hill presented the lively spectacle of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 117 
 
 terraced gardens; to reach them from the street one 
 must ascend several steps; some of the flights were 
 of earth, others of loose stones; and here and there 
 the scene was enlivened by old women, who sat 
 spinning or watching children, and kept up a conver- 
 sation between upper and lower Montegnac, speak- 
 ing across the street, ordinarily perfectly quiet, and 
 despatching news swiftly from one end of the village 
 to the other. The gardens, full of fruit-trees, cab- 
 bages, onions, and other vegetables, all had bee- 
 hives along their terraces. Then there was another 
 row of houses with gardens overhanging the river, 
 whose course was marked by superb juniper-trees, 
 and by those fruit-trees that love damp soil; this 
 last row was parallel to the other; some of the 
 houses, like the post-house, were in a hollow, and 
 this encouraged the establishment of the weaving 
 industry; almost all of them were shaded by wal- 
 nuts, the tree of rich soil. In that direction, at the 
 opposite end of the village from the great plain, was 
 a house larger and in better condition than the 
 others, and around it was a group of houses equally 
 well kept. This hamlet, separated from the village 
 by its gardens, was called LES TASCHERONS, a name 
 which it bears to this day. The commune was a 
 small affair in itself, but it included some thirty 
 scattered farms. In the valley, in the direction of 
 the river, were thickets like those of La Marche and 
 Berri, indicating the course of small streams and 
 drawing a line of green fringe around the commune, 
 dropped there like a ship in mid-ocean.
 
 Il8 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 When a house, an estate, a village, a province, 
 have passed from a deplorable to a satisfactory state, 
 although they have attained neither splendor nor 
 even wealth, the new life seems so natural to the 
 living creatures there, that the spectator can never 
 conceive at first glance the tremendous efforts, infi- 
 nite in their minuteness, grand in their persistence, 
 the toil buried in the foundations, the forgotten labors 
 upon which the first changes rest. So it was that 
 this spectacle did not seem extraordinary to the 
 young abbe, when he cast an all-embracing glance 
 upon that attractive landscape. He knew nothing 
 of the condition of the country before the arrival of 
 the cure Bonnet. He walked on up the path a few 
 steps, and soon discovered, some five or six hundred 
 feet above the gardens of the houses of upper Mon- 
 tegnac, the church and the rectory, which he had 
 seen at first in the distance, confusedly mingled with 
 the imposing ruins and enveloped by the climbing 
 plants of the old chateau of Montegnac, one of the 
 residences of the house of Navarreins in the twelfth 
 century. The rectory, which was evidently built 
 originally for a head-keeper or a steward, attracted 
 attention by a long, high terrace planted with lindens, 
 whence the eye commanded a view of the whole sur- 
 rounding country. The stairs leading to this terrace 
 and the walls that supported it were of an antiquity 
 evidenced by the ravages of time. The stones of 
 the staircase, displaced by the imperceptible but 
 continuous force of vegetation, made room for tall 
 weeds and wild plants. The shallow moss that
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 119 
 
 clings to rocks had spread its dragon-green carpet 
 over the top of each stair. The numerous species 
 of pellitories, the camomile, the maiden-hair, grew 
 in abundant variegated clumps in the loopholes in 
 the wall, which was badly cracked notwithstanding 
 its thickness. Botany had spread there the loveliest 
 carpet of delicate ferns, violet snap-dragon with 
 golden pistils, blue bugloss and brown cryptogams, 
 so that the stone seemed to be a mere accessory and 
 appeared through that fresh, green tapestry only at 
 rare intervals. On the terrace was a flower-garden, 
 with geometrical figures described by borders of box, 
 and overlooked by the cure's house, above which 
 was the whitish mass of the cliff, with here and 
 there a sickly tree, drooping like a bird's tail-feathers. 
 The ruins of the castle overlooked the church and the 
 house. 
 
 This rectory, constructed of small stones and mor- 
 tar, had one floor above the ground-floor, surmounted 
 by a vast sloping roof with two gables, beneath which 
 were garret chambers, untenanted, doubtless, in view 
 of the dilapidated condition of the windows. The 
 ground-floor consisted of two rooms separated by a 
 corridor, at the end of which was a wooden staircase 
 giving access to the first floor, which also consisted 
 of two rooms. A small kitchen adjoined the build- 
 ing on the yard side, where there were a stable and 
 cow-shed, utterly deserted and useless. The kitchen 
 garden lay between the house and the church. A 
 half-ruined gallery led from the rectory to the sac- 
 risty. When the young abbe saw the four windows
 
 I2O THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 with lead sashes, the brown, mossy walls, the un- 
 painted door split like a bundle of matches, far 
 from being impressed by the admirable simplicity of 
 those details, by the graceful beauty of the vegeta- 
 tion on the roof, the rotten window-sills and the 
 cracks from which fantastic climbing plants emerged, 
 by the vines with their spiral tendrils and tiny 
 bunches of grapes peeping in through the windows 
 as if to suggest joyous thoughts, he was very happy 
 in the thought that he was a prospective bishop 
 rather than a village cure. That house, always 
 open, seemed to belong to one and all. 
 
 Abbe Gabriel entered the room which communi- 
 cated with the kitchen and found it but poorly 
 furnished: an old oak table with four twisted legs, an 
 easy-chair with upholstered seat, wooden chairs, 
 an old chest for a sideboard. There was no one 
 in the kitchen except a cat, which disclosed the 
 presence of a woman in the household. The other 
 room served as a salon. As he glanced around, the 
 young priest saw armchairs in natural wood with 
 upholstered seats. The wainscoting and the timbers 
 in the ceiling were chestnut and as black as ebony. 
 There was a clock in a green case with flowers 
 painted on it, a table covered with a worn green 
 cloth, a few common chairs, and upon the mantel 
 two candlesticks, with a child Jesus in wax be- 
 tween, under its glass globe. The fireplace, sur- 
 rounded by a wooden mantel with coarse carvings, 
 was hidden by a paper fireboard, the subject being the 
 Good Shepherd with his ewe-lamb on his shoulder,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 121 
 
 doubtless a gift from the daughter of the mayor or 
 of the justice of the peace, in acknowledgment of 
 the pains bestowed upon her education. The pitiful 
 condition of the house made one's heart ache: the 
 walls, once whitewashed, were discolored in spots 
 and marred by constant rubbing to the height of a 
 man's head; the staircase, with its wooden stairs 
 and ungraceful banisters, although spotlessly clean, 
 seemed as if it would shake under your feet. 
 
 At the rear, opposite the entrance-door, another 
 door, opening into the kitchen garden, enabled Abbe 
 de Rastignac to see the small size of that garden, 
 enclosed as if by the wall of a fortress cut from the 
 white, crumbling stone of the mountain, against 
 which were rich espaliers, and long, ill-kept trellises, 
 all the foliage being devoured by insects. He re- 
 traced his steps, and walked through the paths in 
 the first garden, where the magnificent spectacle of 
 the valley beyond the village lay spread before his 
 eyes, a veritable oasis on the edge of vast plains 
 which, veiled as they were by the light morning 
 mists, resembled a calm sea. Behind, on the one 
 hand, were the vast shadows of the bronze-hued 
 forest, and on the other the church, and the ruins 
 of the chateau, perched on the mountain side, but 
 standing out in bold relief against the blue sky. As 
 he walked along, making the gravel of the star- 
 shaped, round, and diamond-shaped paths crunch 
 beneath his feet, Gabriel looked alternately at the 
 village, where the natives, standing about in groups, 
 were already examining him, at the green valley
 
 122 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 with its thorn-lined roads, its willow-bordered stream, 
 so in contrast to the boundless expanse of the plains; 
 thereupon he was seized by emotions which changed 
 the current of his thoughts: he admired the tran- 
 quillity of that spot, he underwent the influence of 
 that pure air, of the peace inspired by the revela- 
 tion of a life reduced to the simplicity of biblical 
 times; he had a confused idea of the beauties of 
 that rectory, whither he returned to examine its de- 
 tails with serious interest. A little girl, evidently 
 left in charge of the house, but engaged in pilfering 
 in the garden, heard the footsteps of a man with 
 squeaking shoes on the great square tiles which 
 formed the floor of the two lower rooms: she ap- 
 peared. Abashed at being surprised with fruit in 
 her hand and between her teeth, she made no reply 
 to the handsome, elegant young abbe's questions. 
 The little one had never dreamed that there could 
 be such an abbe, resplendent in fine linen fault- 
 lessly neat, and dressed in fine black broadcloth 
 without a spot or a crease. 
 
 " Monsieur Bonnet?" she said at last; " Monsieur 
 Bonnet's saying mass and Mademoiselle Ursule's at 
 church." 
 
 Abbe Gabriel had not noticed the gallery connect- 
 ing the rectory with the church, so he went back to 
 the path in order to enter the church by the prin- 
 cipal door. That species of lean-to porch was on 
 the village side; it was reached by worn, disjointed 
 stone steps and overlooked a square gullied out by 
 the rain and embellished with the great elms which
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 123 
 
 were ordered to be planted by the Protestant Sully. 
 The church, one of the poorest in France, where 
 there are many very poor ones, resembled those 
 huge barns which have a roof overhanging the door 
 and supported by brick or wooden pillars. Built of 
 small stones and mortar, like the cure's house, 
 flanked by a square bell-tower without a spire, 
 and covered with great round tiles, that church 
 had for exterior decorations the richest creations 
 of sculpture, made richer by light and shade, re- 
 touched and massed and colored by Nature, that 
 understands art as well as Michael Angelo. On two 
 sides the ivy hugged the walls with its nervous 
 branches, displaying through its foliage as many 
 veins as are visible upon an ecorche. That cloak, 
 lent by time to cover the wounds it had made, 
 was sprinkled with autumn flowers born in the 
 crevices, and gave shelter to singing birds. The 
 rose-window, above the awning of the porch, was 
 enveloped in blue bell-flowers, like the first page of 
 a richly painted missal. The side next the rectory, 
 with a northern exposure, was less bright with 
 flowers, the gray and red wall could be seen there 
 in great patches which the moss did not cover; but 
 the other side and the apse, which were surrounded 
 by the cemetery, were bright with resplendent and 
 varied blossoms. A few trees, among others an 
 almond-tree, one of the emblems of hope, had taken 
 root in the cracks. Two gigantic pines, standing 
 close against the apse, served as lightning-rods. 
 The cemetery, surrounded by a low ruined wall,
 
 124 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 which was kept about waist-high by its own debris, 
 had for ornament an iron cross set in a socket, which 
 was dressed with consecrated box at Easter, in obe- 
 dience to one of those touching Christian thoughts 
 which are forgotten in cities. The village cure is 
 the only priest who says to his dead on the day of 
 the resurrection: "You will live again in joy!" A 
 few rotting crosses marked the grass-covered mounds 
 here and there. 
 
 The interior harmonized perfectly with the poetical 
 neglect of that humble exterior, whose only splendor 
 was furnished by time, charitable for once. Within, 
 the eye was first attracted by the ceiling, sheathed 
 in chestnut to which age had imparted the richest 
 tones of the old woods of Europe, and which was 
 supported, at equal intervals, by stout columns rest- 
 ing on transverse timbers. The four whitewashed 
 walls were without any decoration. Poverty made 
 the parish unwittingly iconoclastic. The church 
 had a tile floor and was supplied with benches and 
 lighted by four gothic windows, on the sides, with 
 lead sashes. The altar, which was in the shape of 
 a tomb, had for ornament a large crucifix above a 
 walnut tabernacle, embellished with some clean and 
 highly polished mouldings, with eight cheap wooden 
 taper-holders painted white, and with two vases 
 filled with artificial flowers, which a broker's porter 
 would have scorned, but with which God was con- 
 tent. The lamp of the sanctuary was a night-light 
 placed in what was once a portable holy-water vessel 
 in silvered copper, suspended by silk cords which
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 125 
 
 came from some demolished chateau. The baptismal 
 fonts were of wood, as were the pulpit, and a sort 
 of cage for the church-wardens, the patricians of 
 the village. An altar of the Virgin held up to the 
 public admiration two colored lithographs, framed 
 in small gilt frames. It was painted white, dec- 
 orated with artificial flowers in vases of gilded wood, 
 and covered with an altar-cloth of cheap, rusty lace, 
 hanging in festoons. At the rear of the church, a 
 long window veiled by a red calico curtain produced 
 a wonderful effect. That rich cloak of deep color 
 cast a reddish tinge upon the whitewashed walls: 
 it was as if a divine thought shone from the altar 
 and embraced the poor nave to warm it. The corri- 
 dor leading to the sacristy displayed upon one of its 
 walls the patron saint of the village, a great John the 
 Baptist with his lamb, carved from wood and shock- 
 ingly painted. 
 
 Notwithstanding its poor appearance, the church 
 did not lack the pleasant harmonies which delight 
 noble souls, and which bright colors bring out in 
 such bold relief. The rich brown tones of the wood- 
 work set off to admiration the pure white of the 
 walls, and blended perfectly with the triumphal 
 dark-red flush cast upon the apse. That severe 
 trinity of colors recalled the great thought of Cathol- 
 icism. If the first sensation at sight of that poor 
 house of God was one of surprise, it was succeeded 
 by admiration mingled with pity: did it not express 
 the poverty of the country round about? was it not 
 in accord with the artless simplicity of the rectory?
 
 126 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 It was clean, moreover, and well looked to. The 
 air was filled, as it were, with a perfume of rustic 
 virtues; nothing indicated neglect. Although rustic 
 and simple, it was inhabited by prayer, it had a 
 soul; one felt that it was so without understanding 
 how. 
 
 Abbe Gabriel, in order not to disturb the medi- 
 tations of two groups on the upper benches, glided 
 softly to a place beside the principal altar, which was 
 separated from the nave, just where the lamp hung 
 down, by a rail of coarse workmanship, also made of 
 chestnut, and covered with the cloth intended for the 
 communion. On each side of the nave, a score or 
 more of peasants, men and women, absorbed in the 
 most fervent prayer, paid no heed to the stranger as 
 he walked up the narrow passage between the two 
 rows of benches. When he reached a point under the 
 lamp, from which he could see the two small naves 
 which represented the branches of the cross, and one 
 of which led to the sacristy, the other to the ceme- 
 tery, Abbe Gabriel noticed, on the cemetery side, a 
 family dressed in black and kneeling on the floor; 
 there were no benches in those two portions of the 
 church. The young abbe prostrated himself on 
 the step leading to the rail that separated the choir 
 from the nave, and began to pray, glancing obliquely 
 meanwhile at that spectacle, which was soon made 
 clear to him. The Gospel was read. The cure laid 
 aside his chasuble and stepped down from the altar 
 to go to the rail. The young abbe, anticipating 
 that movement, drew back against the wall before
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 127 
 
 Monsieur Bonnet could see him. The clock struck 
 ten. 
 
 "My brethren," said the cure, in a voice that 
 trembled with emotion, " at this very moment a 
 child of this parish is about to pay his debt to the 
 laws of mankind by undergoing the last punishment; 
 we offer the blessed sacrifice of the mass for the 
 repose of his soul. Let us unite our prayers in 
 order that we may prevail upon God not to abandon 
 that child in his last moments, and that his repent- 
 ance may procure for him in heaven the pardon that 
 has been denied him on earth. The downfall of 
 that unhappy man, one of those upon whom we had 
 relied with the greatest assurance to set a worthy 
 example, can be attributed only to lack of knowl- 
 edge of the principles of religion " 
 
 The cure was interrupted by sobs from the family 
 in mourning, in whom the young priest, by reason 
 of their excessive grief, recognized the Tascheron 
 family, although he had never seen any of them. 
 First, there were two old people close against the 
 wall, seventy years of age at least, their faces 
 tanned like Florentine bronze, and seamed with 
 deep, motionless wrinkles. These two, standing 
 stoically there in their patched clothes, like statues, 
 were evidently the condemned man's grandfather 
 and grandmother. Their red, glassy eyes seemed 
 to weep blood; their arms trembled so that the 
 staves upon which they leaned made a slight noise 
 on the floor. After them were the father and 
 mother, weeping bitterly, their faces hidden in their
 
 128 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 handkerchiefs. Near by these four heads of the 
 family knelt two married sisters, accompanied by 
 their husbands. Then three sons, dazed with grief. 
 Five little kneeling children, the eldest of them only 
 seven, of course did not understand what the matter 
 was: they looked and listened with the apparently 
 torpid curiosity characteristic of the peasant, which 
 is in reality keen observation of material things 
 carried to its highest development. Lastly, there 
 was the poor girl who had been imprisoned at the 
 desire of the authorities, Denise, that martyr to her 
 sisterly love, who listened with an air that suggested 
 aberration and incredulity at once. In her view her 
 brother could not die. She represented admirably 
 that one of the three Marys who did not believe in 
 Christ's death, even while sharing its agony. Pale, 
 with dry eyes, like those of one who has had little 
 sleep, her fresh bloom was withered less by working 
 in the fields than by grief; but she had still a country- 
 girl's beauty, full, well-rounded outlines, fine red 
 arms, a round face, bright eyes, lighted at that 
 moment by the gleam of despair. At several points 
 below the neck, the firm, white flesh which the sun 
 had not bronzed announced a rich carnation, a con- 
 cealed whiteness. 
 
 The two married daughters were weeping; their 
 husbands, patient farmers, were grave and serious. 
 The three boys, profoundly sad, kept their eyes 
 fixed on the ground. In that lamentable picture of 
 resignation and hopeless grief, only Denise and her 
 mother showed any symptoms of revolt. The other
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 129 
 
 natives made themselves sharers in the affliction of 
 that family by a sincere and pious sympathy, which 
 imparted to all their faces the same expression, and 
 which became downright terror, when the few sen- 
 tences uttered by the cure brought home to their 
 minds the fact that the knife was falling at that 
 moment upon the head of the young man, whom 
 they had all known since his birth, and had looked 
 upon as incapable, beyond all question, of commit- 
 ting a crime. The sobs that interrupted the simple 
 and brief exhortation of the priest to his flock dis- 
 turbed him to such a point that he at once brought it 
 to an end, calling upon them to pray fervently. 
 
 Although that spectacle was not of a nature to 
 surprise a priest, Gabriel de Rastignac was too 
 young not to be deeply touched. He had never yet 
 put in practice the humble virtues of the priest, he 
 knew that he was destined for higher things, that it 
 was not for him to stand in all the social breaches 
 where the heart bleeds at sight of the miseries with 
 which they are filled; his mission was that of the 
 upper clergy, who keep alive the spirit of sacrifice, 
 represent the lofty intelligence of the Church, and 
 on brilliant occasions display those same virtues upon 
 a more extensive stage, like the illustrious bishops of 
 Marseilles and Meaux, like the archbishops of Aries 
 and Cambrai. That little assemblage of country 
 people weeping and praying for the man who, they 
 supposed, was being led out to execution in a great 
 public square, before thousands of people gathered 
 from all parts to add to the punishment by the 
 
 9
 
 130 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 immensity of the shame; that feeble counterpoise of 
 sympathy and prayer opposed to that vast assem- 
 blage of savage curiosities and deserved maledic- 
 tions, was of a nature to touch the hardest heart, 
 especially in that poor church. Abbe Gabriel was 
 tempted to go to the Tascherons and say: "Your 
 son, your brother, has obtained a reprieve!" but he 
 was afraid of disturbing the mass; moreover, he 
 knew that the reprieve would not prevent the execu- 
 tion. Instead of following the service, he was irre- 
 sistibly impelled to watch the pastor to whom they 
 looked to perform the miracle of converting the 
 criminal. 
 
 Gabriel de Rastignac had drawn a mental picture 
 of Monsieur Bonnet, based upon the appearance of 
 the rectory: a short, stout man, with a strong, red 
 face, a rough, hard-working, semi-peasant, tanned 
 by the sun. Far from such being the case, the abbe 
 found himself face to face with his equal. Short of 
 stature and in appearance far from strong, Monsieur 
 Bonnet impressed one at first sight by the rapt 
 countenance we imagine the apostles to have had: 
 an almost triangular face, beginning above with a 
 broad, wrinkled forehead, and extending from the 
 temples to the point of the chin in two gaunt lines 
 drawn by the hollow cheeks. In that face, of a 
 sickly yellow tinge, like the wax in a taper, gleamed 
 two blue eyes, luminous with faith, burning with 
 intense hope. It was divided in two equal parts by 
 a long, thin, straight nose with open nostrils, be- 
 neath which was a large mouth with prominent lips,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 131 
 
 which talked always, even when closed, and from 
 which came one of those voices which go to the 
 heart. The chestnut hair, thin and fine and combed 
 smoothly, denoted a weak constitution, sustained 
 only by sober living. All that man's strength lay 
 in his will. Such were his distinguishing features. 
 His short hands would have indicated in any other a 
 tendency toward sensual pleasures; perhaps he had, 
 like Socrates, conquered his evil thoughts. He was 
 so thin as to be ungraceful: his shoulder-blades were 
 too prominent, he looked knock-kneed. His chest, 
 over-developed compared with his limbs, gave him 
 the appearance of a hunchback without the hunch. 
 Taken all in all, he was likely to produce an un- 
 pleasant impression. Only those to whom the 
 miracles of thought and faith and art are known 
 could admire that flashing martyr's glance, that 
 pallor born of constancy, that voice of love which 
 distinguished the cure Bonnet. That man, worthy 
 of the early days of the Church, a type that has 
 no existence to-day save in the pictures of the six- 
 teenth century and the pages of the Martyrology, was 
 stamped with the seal of human grandeur, which most 
 nearly approaches divine grandeur, with the convic- 
 tion which embellishes the most ordinary faces by 
 the indefinable touch it imparts to them, and which 
 spreads a warm, golden tinge over the faces of men 
 whose lives are devoted to any cult, just as it 
 illumines the face of a woman glorified by an un- 
 selfish passion. Conviction is the human will in 
 its highest development. Effect and cause at once,
 
 132 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 it makes an impression on the least impressionable 
 minds, it is a sort of mute eloquence that lays hold 
 of the masses. 
 
 As he stepped down from the altar, the cure's 
 eyes met Abbe Gabriel's; he recognized him, and 
 when the bishop's secretary appeared in the sac- 
 risty, Ursule, who had received her orders from her 
 master, was there alone, and requested the young 
 abbe to follow her. 
 
 "Monsieur," said Ursule, a female of canonical 
 age, as she escorted Abbe de Rastignac through the 
 gallery into the garden, "Monsieur le Cure told me 
 to ask you if you had breakfasted. You must have 
 started from Limoges very early to be here at ten 
 o'clock, so I will go and prepare everything for 
 breakfast. Monsieur 1'Abbe will not find such a 
 table as monseigneur's here, but we will do our 
 best. Monsieur Bonnet will soon be back, he has 
 gone to comfort those poor people the Tascherons. 
 This is the day when their son is to meet with a 
 horrible accident " 
 
 " But where do those poor creatures live?" said 
 Abbe Gabriel, at last. " I am to take Monsieur 
 Bonnet back with me to Limoges instantly, by mon- 
 seigneur's order. The unhappy man will not be 
 executed to-day, monseigneur has obtained a re- 
 prieve " 
 
 "Ah!" said Ursule, whose tongue itched to go out 
 and spread that piece of news, " monsieur will have 
 time to go and carry them that consolation while 
 I am preparing breakfast; the Tascherons' house is
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 133 
 
 at the end of the village. Follow the path that runs 
 at the foot of the terrace; it will take you there." 
 
 When Ursule had watched Abbe Gabriel out of 
 sight, she went down to spread the news in the vil- 
 lage, while procuring the necessary materials for the 
 breakfast. 
 
 The cure had been abruptly informed at the 
 church of a desperate resolution to which the 
 Tascherons had been led by the dismissal of 
 the appeal. Those worthy people proposed to 
 leave the province, and were to receive that morn- 
 ing the price of their property, sold in anticipation 
 of that step. The sale had necessitated delays 
 and formalities unforeseen by them. Being com- 
 pelled to remain in the neighborhood after Jean- 
 Francois's conviction, each day had been to them 
 a bitter cup to drink. The plan they had carried 
 out so mysteriously did not transpire until the 
 day preceding that on which the execution was to 
 take place. The Tascherons had believed that they 
 would be able to leave before that fatal day; but the 
 purchaser of their property was a stranger to the 
 canton, a man from La Correze, who cared nothing 
 for their reasons for wishing to be gone, and who 
 had been delayed, too, in calling in his funds. Thus 
 the family was obliged to face its misery to the end. 
 The feeling that dictated this self-exile was so in- 
 tense in those simple hearts, unused to compromises 
 with their conscience, that the grandfather and 
 grandmother, the daughters and their husbands, 
 the father and mother, all who bore the name of
 
 134 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Tascheron or were allied to them were leaving the 
 province. The whole commune was grieved by this 
 emigration. The mayor had come to beg the cure 
 not to let the poor people go. 
 
 According to the new law, the father is not respon- 
 sible for the son, and the father's crime leaves no 
 stain on his family. This system, working in har- 
 mony with the various emancipations that have 
 done so much to weaken the paternal authority, 
 has brought about the triumph of the individualism 
 that is the bane of modern society. Thus the man 
 who thinks upon the things of the future sees family 
 spirit destroyed where the compilers of the new code 
 have established freedom of will and equality. The 
 family will always be the basis of societies. Neces- 
 sarily temporary, constantly divided, reconstituted 
 only to be dissolved anew, with no connecting-links 
 between the future and the past, the family of an 
 earlier day no longer exists in France. They who 
 have gone forward with the demolition of the ancient 
 structure have been logical in dividing the family 
 property equally, in diminishing the authority of the 
 father, in making of every child the head of a new 
 family, in suppressing burdensome responsibilities; 
 but is the social State as solidly constructed, with 
 its new laws, not as yet subjected to the test of time, 
 as the monarchy was, notwithstanding its long-stand- 
 ing abuses? In losing the solidarity of the family, 
 society has lost that fundamental force which Mon- 
 tesquieu discovered and called honor. It has isolated 
 everything in order to assert its power more firmly,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 135 
 
 it has divided everything in order to weaken. It 
 reigns over units, over ciphers heaped together like 
 grains of wheat in a bin. Can general interests ever 
 replace family interests? It is for time to solve that 
 question. Nevertheless, the old law exists, it has 
 taken such deep root that you find it flourishing 
 among the common people. There are still lost 
 corners in the provinces where what is called prej- 
 udice subsists, where the family suffers for the 
 crime of one of its children, or of one of its elders. 
 That idea made the province uninhabitable to the 
 Tascherons. Their profound religious faith had led 
 them to the church in the morning: was it possible 
 for them to refrain from participating in the sacrifice 
 offered up to God to beseech Him to inspire in their 
 son the repentance which would ensure him life ever- 
 lasting? and, must they not say farewell to their 
 village altar? But their plan was consummated. 
 When the cure, who followed them, entered the 
 principal room of their house, he found their bags 
 packed for the journey. The purchaser was waiting 
 with his money. The notary was just drawing up 
 the receipts. In the yard behind the house a carriole 
 stood ready to take the two old people and Jean- 
 Francois's mother, with the money. The rest of 
 the family intended to set out on foot, after dark. 
 
 When the young abbe entered the lower room in 
 which the whole family was assembled, the cure of 
 Montegnac had exhausted all the resources of his 
 eloquence. The two old people, insensible with 
 grief, were sitting on their bags in a corner, gazing
 
 136 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 at their old ancestral house, its furniture, and the 
 purchaser, then looking at each other as if to say: 
 " Could we ever have believed that such a thing 
 could happen?" Those old people, who had long 
 since resigned their authority to their son, the 
 criminal's father, had, like aged kings after their 
 abdication, resumed the passive role of subjects and 
 children. Tascheron was standing, listening to the 
 pastor, and answering him with monosyllables in an 
 undertone. He was a man of about forty-eight years, 
 with the beautiful face that Titian has given to all 
 his apostles: a face expressive of faith, of serious 
 and sedate uprightness; a stern profile, a nose at 
 right angles to the face, blue eyes, a noble forehead, 
 regular features, stiff, curly black hair, planted with 
 the symmetry that gives attractiveness to faces 
 bronzed by working in the open air. It was easy to 
 see that the cure's arguments were ineffectual against 
 an inflexible will. Denise was leaning against the 
 bread-chest, watching the notary, who was using 
 that article of furniture as a desk and sitting in the 
 grandmother's armchair. The purchaser sat on a 
 chair beside the notary. The two married sisters 
 were laying the cloth and preparing the last meal 
 which the ancestors were to offer and to partake of 
 in their house, in their province, before departing 
 for unknown regions. The men were half-sitting on 
 a great bed covered with green serge. The mother 
 was busy over the fire, making an omelet. The 
 grandchildren filled up the doorway, and the pur- 
 chaser's family stood outside.
 
 THE APPEAL TO THE CURE 
 
 At that moment the cure felt a hand pulling at hu- 
 cassock, he heard sobs, and, upon turning around, 
 saw the whole family kneeling. Old and young, 
 large and small, men and women, all were holding 
 out their hands imploringly.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 137 
 
 The old smoke-blackened room, with its dark 
 timbers, through the window of which could be seen 
 a carefully-tended garden where all the trees had 
 been planted by those two septuagenarians, har- 
 monized with their concentrated suffering, which 
 could be read in so many varying expressions upon 
 all those faces. The meal was prepared especially 
 for the notary, the purchaser, the children, and the 
 sons-in-law. The father and mother, Denise and 
 her sisters, were too sad at heart to satisfy their 
 hunger. There was a lofty and heart-rending resig- 
 nation in the fulfilment of these last duties of rustic 
 hospitality. The Tascherons, those men of an an- 
 tique type, ended as we begin, by doing the honors 
 of their house. That picture, simple yet full of so- 
 lemnity, met the glance of the bishop's secretary 
 when he arrived to inform the cure of Montegnac of 
 the bishop's purpose. 
 
 " This worthy man's son still lives," said Gabriel 
 to the cure. 
 
 At those words, plainly heard by all in the silence, 
 the two old people sprang to their feet as if the 
 trumpet had sounded for the last judgment. The 
 mother dropped her frying-pan into the fire. Denise 
 uttered a joyful cry. All the others remained in a 
 state of stupefaction which seemed to turn them to 
 stone. 
 
 " Jean-Francois is pardoned!" suddenly shouted 
 the whole village, the inhabitants having rushed 
 in a body to the Tascheron house. " Monseigneur 
 the bishop has "
 
 138 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " 1 knew that he was innocent!" said the mother. 
 
 " This won't prevent the trade, will it ?" said the 
 purchaser to the notary, who answered with an 
 assuring nod of the head. 
 
 Abbe Gabriel became in an instant the cynosure 
 of all eyes; his melancholy expression led some to 
 suspect a misapprehension, and in order not to ban- 
 ish the general joy himself, he went out, followed by 
 the cure, and stood outside to send away the crowd, 
 telling those who were nearest him that the execution 
 was only postponed. Thereupon the uproar was at 
 once replaced by a gloomy silence. When the abbe 
 and the cure returned to the house, there was an 
 expression of heart-rending grief on every face: the 
 silence of the village had been rightly interpreted. 
 
 " My friends, Jean-Francois has not received a 
 pardon," said the young abbe, seeing that the blow 
 had told; " but his frame of mind has so disturbed 
 monseigneur, that he has procured a postponement 
 of your son's last day on earth, hoping to save 
 him in eternity." 
 
 " Then he is alive?" cried Denise. 
 
 The young abbe took the cure aside to explain to 
 him the perilous plight in which his parishioner's 
 impiety placed the interests of the religion, and what 
 the bishop expected of him. 
 
 "Monseigneur demands my death," replied the 
 cure, " 1 have already refused the entreaties of this 
 afflicted family to go and assist that unhappy child. 
 The interview, and the spectacle which I should 
 have to witness, would shatter me like a glass. To
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 139 
 
 every man his work. The weakness of my consti- 
 tution, or rather the too great sensitiveness of my 
 nervous organism, forbids my exercising those func- 
 tions of our profession. I have remained a simple 
 village cure, in order to be useful to my fellow-men 
 in the sphere in which I can lead a Christian life. 
 I have reflected long and deeply, hoping to find a 
 way to gratify this virtuous family and to fulfil my 
 duties as pastor to that poor child; but, at the mere 
 thought of entering the criminals' cart with him, at 
 the mere thought of witnessing the fatal prepara- 
 tions, I feel a deathly shudder run through my 
 veins. You would not demand that of a mother, 
 and consider, monsieur, that he was born in the 
 bosom of my poor church " 
 
 " I understand, then, that you refuse to obey 
 monseigneur?" said Abbe Gabriel. 
 
 " Monseigneur does not know the condition of my 
 health, he does not know that in my case nature 
 itself forbids " said Monsieur Bonnet, glancing at 
 the young abbe. 
 
 " There are times when; like Belzunce at Mar- 
 seilles, we ought to dare certain death," Gabriel 
 interrupted. 
 
 At that moment the cure felt a hand pulling at his 
 cassock, he heard sobs, and, upon turning around, saw 
 the whole family kneeling. Old and young, large 
 and small, men and women, all were holding out their 
 hands imploringly. When he turned his glowing face 
 upon them, a single cry arose from every throat: 
 
 " Save his soul, at least!"
 
 140 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 The old grandmother had pulled the hem of his 
 cassock and wet it with her tears. 
 
 " I will obey, monsieur " 
 
 As he spoke, the cure was forced to sit down, 
 his legs trembled so. The young secretary de- 
 scribed Jean-Francois's frenzied condition. 
 
 " Do you believe," said Abbe Gabriel, in con- 
 clusion, "that the sight of his sister would make 
 him waver?" 
 
 "Surely, yes," replied the cure. " Denise, you 
 will go with us." 
 
 "And I, too," said the mother. 
 
 "No!" cried the father. "That child no longer 
 lives for us, as you know. No one of us will see 
 him." 
 
 "Do not prevent his salvation," said the young 
 abbe, "you would be responsible for his soul if 
 you should deny us the means of softening him. 
 At this moment his death may become more harm- 
 ful in its effects than his life has been." 
 
 "She shall go," said the father. "It will be her 
 punishment for having interfered to prevent me 
 whenever I wished to correct her boy!" 
 
 Abbe Gabriel and Monsieur Bonnet returned to 
 the rectory, where Denise and her mother were 
 told to come, when the two priests were ready to 
 start for Limoges. As they walked along the path 
 that followed the outskirts of upper Montegnac, 
 the young man was able to scrutinize less super- 
 ficially than at the church the man so highly 
 extolled by the vicar-general: he was at once
 
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 141 
 
 favorably impressed by the simple and dignified 
 manner, by that magical voice, and by words in 
 harmony with the voice. The cure had been but 
 once to the bishop's palace since the prelate had 
 taken Gabriel de Rastignac for his secretary, 
 and had barely caught a glimpse of that favorite 
 destined for a bishopric, but he knew how great 
 his influence was; nevertheless, he bore himself 
 with a dignified urbanity which betrayed his 
 appreciation of the sovereign independence the 
 Church accords to cures in their parishes. The 
 young abbe's sentiments, far from lighting up his 
 face, imprinted a stern expression upon it; it was 
 more than cold, it was freezing. A man capable 
 of transforming the moral character of a whole 
 village must be endowed with some power of ob- 
 servation, must be more or less of a physiogno- 
 mist; but, even if the cure had possessed nothing 
 more than the science of well-doing, he had just 
 given proof of a rare sensitiveness; he was struck, 
 therefore, by the coldness with which the bishop's 
 secretary received his advances and his civilities. 
 Compelled to attribute that disdain to some secret 
 displeasure, he tried to think how he could have 
 wounded him, wherein his conduct could be con- 
 sidered blameworthy in the eyes of his superiors. 
 There was a moment of embarrassing silence, 
 which Abbe de Rastignac broke by a question 
 overflowing with aristocratic pride: 
 
 "You have a very poor church, Monsieur le 
 Cure?"
 
 142 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " It is too small," Monsieur Bonnet replied. " On 
 the great festivals the old men put benches under 
 the porch, the young men stand about in a circle 
 on the square; but it is so perfectly still that those 
 outside can hear my voice." 
 
 Gabriel was silent for a moment. 
 
 " If the people are so religious, how happens it 
 that you allow the church to remain so bare?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Alas! monsieur, I have not the courage to spend 
 money which will assist the poor. The poor are the 
 church. However, I should not fear a visit from 
 Monseigneur on Corpus Christi day! On that day 
 the poor give all that they have to the Church! 
 Did you not notice, monsieur, the nails driven into 
 the walls at intervals? they are used to hold a 
 sort of trellis made of wire on which the women 
 hang bouquets. The church is then entirely clothed 
 with flowers that retain their bloom until the even- 
 ing. My poor church, which seems so bare to you, 
 is decked out like a bride, it perfumes the air, the 
 ground is strewn with leaves through which they 
 make a path of rose-leaves for the passage of the 
 Blessed Sacrament. On that day I would not fear 
 a comparison with the splendors of Saint Peter's at 
 Rome. The Holy Father has his gold; I have my 
 flowers: to each his miracle. Ah! monsieur, the 
 village of Montegnac is poor, but it is Catholic. 
 Formerly they robbed travellers here; to-day the 
 traveller may drop a bag full of gold-pieces, he will 
 find it at his home."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 143 
 
 " Such a result is your eulogy," said Gabriel. 
 
 "It has nothing to do with me," rejoined the 
 cure, blushing, for that sharpened epigram had 
 struck home, " but with God's word, with the con- 
 secrated bread." 
 
 " Bread that borders on the brown," said Abbe 
 Gabriel, with a smile. 
 
 " White bread is suited to the stomachs of none 
 but the rich," replied the cure, modestly. 
 
 At that the young abbe grasped Monsieur Bonnet's 
 hands and pressed them cordially. 
 
 " Pardon me, Monsieur le Cure," he said, making 
 his peace with him instantly by a glance from his 
 lovely blue eyes which went straight to the cure's 
 heart. " Monseigneur bade me put your patience 
 and your modesty to the test; but I can go no 
 further, for I see already how you have been slan- 
 dered by the praises of the liberals." 
 
 The breakfast was ready: fresh eggs, butter, 
 honey and fruit, coffee and cream, served by 
 Ursule, amid bouquets of flowers, upon a snowy 
 cloth spread upon the old-fashioned table in that old 
 dining-room. The window, which looked on the 
 terrace, was open. The sill was framed by clematis, 
 laden with its white stars with the yellow bunches 
 of curly stamens at the centre. A jasmin ran along 
 on one side, nasturtiums clambered up the other. 
 Above, the grapevine trained over a trellis; its 
 leaves, already turning ruddy, made a rich border 
 which a sculptor could not have reproduced, the 
 alternations of light and shade produced by the
 
 144 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 notching of the leaves gave it such fascinating 
 grace. 
 
 " Here you find life reduced to its simplest form," 
 said the cure, smiling, without laying aside the 
 melancholy manner due to the burden of sadness 
 upon his heart. " If we had known of your arrival, 
 but who could have foreseen its purpose? Ursule 
 would have obtained some mountain trout; there is 
 a stream in the forest in which there are some fine 
 ones. But I forget that this is August and the 
 Gabou is dry! My brain is rather confused." 
 
 "You are happy here?" queried the young abbe. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur. God willing, I shall die cure 
 of Montegnac. I could wish that my example might 
 be followed by some distinguished men who have 
 thought that they could do better by becoming 
 philanthropists. Modern philanthropy is the bane 
 of society, the principles of the Catholic religion 
 alone can cure the diseases that prey upon the 
 social body. Instead of describing the disease and 
 extending its ravages by plaintive elegies, everyone 
 should put his hand to the work and enter the Lord's 
 vineyard as a simple workman. My task here is 
 far from being finished, monsieur; it is not enough 
 to preach morality to people whom I found in a 
 frightful state of impiety, and I wish to die amid 
 a generation that is absolutely converted." 
 
 "You have done no more than your duty," said 
 the young man, in his former dry tone, for he was 
 bitten to the heart by jealousy. 
 
 "Oh! monsieur," rejoined the priest, modestly,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 145 
 
 after casting a shrewd glance at him, as if to ask: 
 "Is this another test?" "Every hour in the day 
 I pray that everyone in the realm may do his." 
 
 That sentence, profoundly significant as it was, 
 received added significance from the tone in which it 
 was spoken, which proved that that priest, who was 
 as great by reason of his mental powers, as by the 
 humility of his conduct, and who subordinated his 
 ideas to those of his superiors, had a keen insight 
 into the destiny of the monarchy and the Church. 
 
 When the two unhappy women had arrived, the 
 abbe, being most impatient to return to Limoges, left 
 them in the rectory, and and went to see if the horses 
 were harnessed. A few moments later he returned 
 to say that everything was ready for their departure. 
 The four set out in the presence of the whole popu- 
 lation of Montegnac, who stood grouped on the road 
 in front of the post-house. The mother and sister of 
 the condemned man did not speak. The two priests, 
 foreseeing shoals and quicksands in many subjects, 
 could neither seem indifferent nor be gay. Seeking 
 to discover some neutral ground for conversation, 
 they started across the plain whose aspect had its 
 effect upon the duration of their melancholy silence. 
 
 "What motives led you to embrace the clerical 
 profession?" Abbe Gabriel abruptly asked the cure, 
 impelled by a thoughtless curiosity which seized upon 
 him as they came out upon the main road. 
 
 " I did not look upon the priesthood as a profes- 
 sion," replied the cure, simply. " I do not under- 
 stand how any man can become a priest for any 
 
 10
 
 146 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 other reason than the indefinable force of vocation. 
 I know that some men have become workers in the 
 Lord's vineyard after wearing out their hearts in the 
 service of the passions; some have loved without 
 hope, others have been deceived; these have lost 
 the bloom of their lives when burying a cherished 
 wife or an adored mistress; those have become dis- 
 gusted with society at a time when uncertainty 
 hovers over everything, even the sentiments, when 
 doubt mocks at the sweetest certainties, calling them 
 beliefs. Some abandon politics at a time when 
 government seems to be an expiation, when the 
 governed look upon obedience as a fatality. Many 
 leave a society without standards, where opposing 
 parties join together to dethrone the right. I do not 
 imagine that men give themselves to God from mo- 
 tives of cupidity. Some men may see in the priest- 
 hood a means of regenerating our country; but, 
 according to my feeble judgment, the patriot priest 
 is an absurdity. The priest should belong to God 
 alone. I did not choose to offer to Our Father, 
 although he accepts everything, the broken fragments 
 of my heart and the remains of my will, I gave my- 
 self to him entire. In one of the touching theories of 
 the heathen religions, the victim destined for sacri- 
 fice to the false gods went to the temple flower- 
 crowned. That custom always appealed to me. A 
 sacrifice is nothing without grace. My life is simple 
 and devoid of the slightest touch of romance; if you 
 desire a full confession, I will tell you all. My family 
 is in more than easy circumstances, almost rich.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 147 
 
 My father, the sole artisan of his fortune, is a stern, 
 inflexible man; he treats his wife and his children as 
 he treats himself. I never detected the slightest 
 approach to a smile upon his lips. His iron hand, 
 his bronze face, his gloomy and fitful energy, re- 
 pressed us all, wife, children, clerks, and servants, 
 beneath a savage despotism. I might I speak for 
 myself alone have become reconciled to that life, if 
 the power that oppressed us had been even and 
 regular in its action; but it was moody and variable, 
 and the alternations were intolerable. We never 
 knew whether we were doing right or were at fault, 
 and the horrible suspense that resulted from that 
 uncertainty is unendurable in domestic life. Under 
 such circumstances one prefers to be in the street 
 rather than at home. If I had been alone in the 
 house, I would have endured anything from my 
 father without a murmur; but my heart was torn 
 by the poignant grief that gave no respite to a 
 mother whom I passionately loved, whose tears, 
 when I surprised her weeping, threw me into fits of 
 rage in which I lost control of my reason. The time 
 that I passed at school, usually a period of unhappi- 
 ness and hard labor to children, was like an age of 
 gold to me. I dreaded holidays. My mother was 
 happy when I came home. When I had finished my 
 schooling, when I was obliged to return to the pater- 
 nal roof and become a clerk for my father, I found it 
 impossible to remain there longer than a few months: 
 my reason, led astray by the mad impulses of youth, 
 might give way. One gloomy autumn evening, as I
 
 148 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 walked with my mother along Boulevard de Bourdon, 
 then one of the dreariest spots in Paris, I discharged 
 my heart into hers, and told her that I saw no possi- 
 ble life for myself, except in the Church. My in- 
 clinations, my ideas, my very loves were certain to 
 be thwarted so long as my father lived. He would 
 be compelled to respect me beneath the priest's cas- 
 sock, so that I could in that way become the pro- 
 tector of my family on certain occasions. My mother 
 wept bitterly. Just at that time, my elder brother, 
 who afterwards became a general and was killed at 
 Leipsic, enlisted as a simple soldier, for the same 
 reasons which decided my calling. 1 pointed out to 
 my mother, as a means of providing for her own 
 well-being, that she must select a son-in-law of 
 determined character and marry my sister to him as 
 soon as she was old enough to be settled in life; and 
 that she could make her home with that newly- 
 established household. Thus, on the pretext of 
 evading the conscription without cost to my father, 
 I entered the seminary of Saint-Sulpice in 1807, a * 
 the age of nineteen, declaring my vocation to the 
 priesthood. In those famous old buildings I found 
 peace and happiness, disturbed only by the presumed 
 suffering of my mother and sister; their domestic 
 sorrows evidently increased, for whenever they 
 saw me they encouraged my resolution. Initiated, 
 perhaps, by my past afflictions into the secrets of 
 charity, as defined by the great Saint Paul in his ador- 
 able Epistle, I determined to heal the wounds of the 
 poor in some out-of-the-way corner of the earth, and
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 149 
 
 to prove by my example, if God should vouchsafe to 
 bless my efforts, that the Catholic religion, in its 
 work among mankind, is the only true, the only 
 noble and worthy civilizing power. During the last 
 days of my diaconate, the divine grace enlightened 
 me. I freely forgave my father, in whom I saw 
 the instrument of my destiny. Notwithstanding 
 a long and loving letter, in which I explained 
 everything, pointing to the marks of God's finger 
 on every side, my mother shed many tears when 
 she saw my hair fall beneath the scissors of the 
 Church; she knew how many pleasures I renounced, 
 but did not know to what glorious achievements I 
 secretly aspired. Women are so affectionate! When 
 1 belonged to God, I experienced unbounded peace of 
 mind, I felt neither the wants nor the vanities nor 
 the anxieties concerning property that disturb the 
 tranquillity of so many men. I believed that Provi- 
 dence would take care of me as something of its own. 
 I entered a world whence fear is banished, where the 
 future is certain, and where everything is the work 
 of a divine hand, even the silence. That tranquillity 
 is one of the benefits of grace. My mother could 
 not conceive that a man may marry a church; never- 
 theless, when she saw me with a serene brow and 
 a happy expression, she was happy. After being 
 ordained, I came to the Limousin to see one of my 
 father's relatives, who, by chance, mentioned the 
 condition of the canton of Montegnac. A thought 
 burst upon my mind like a brilliant light, and said to 
 me: * There is your vineyard!' And I came here.
 
 150 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 So, monsieur, my story is quite simple and devoid of 
 interest, as you see." 
 
 At that moment, Limoges appeared in the rays of 
 the setting sun. At the sight, the two women could 
 not restrain their tears. 
 
 The young man whom those two different forms 
 of affection were about to seek, and who aroused 
 so much ingenuous curiosity, so much hypocritical 
 compassion and eager solicitude, lay upon a prison 
 pallet, in the cell set apart for men condemned to 
 death. A spy was on guard at the door to catch 
 any words that might escape him, either in his 
 sleep, or in his paroxysms of rage, so determined 
 was the law to exhaust all human means to dis- 
 cover Jean-Francois Tascheron's accomplice and 
 recover the stolen money. 
 
 The Des Vanneaulx had aroused the interest of 
 the police, and the police kept watch over that 
 absolute silence. When the man set to watch the 
 prisoner's mind looked at him through a loophole 
 made for the purpose, he found him always in the 
 same attitude, buried in his strait-jacket, and 
 with his head secured by a leather strap, since he 
 had tried to tear the material and the cords with 
 his teeth. Jean-Francois stared at the floor with 
 a glaring, desperate eye, an eye that glowed like 
 a coal and seemed inflamed by the over-abundance 
 of life kindled by terrible thoughts. He was like 
 a living statue of Prometheus of old, the thought 
 of some joy forever lost gnawed at his heart; so 
 that, when the second avocat-general went to see
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 151 
 
 him, that magistrate could not refrain from mani- 
 festing his amazement at his unvarying state. At 
 sight of every living being who was introduced into 
 his cell, Jean-Francois flew into a frenzy which 
 went beyond all that the previous experience of 
 the physicians had taught them to expect in such 
 cases. As soon as he heard the key turned in 
 the lock or the bolts drawn that secured the iron 
 door, a white foam gathered upon his lips. 
 
 Jean-Francois was at this time twenty-five years 
 old; he was small, but well-built. His coarse, curly 
 hair, growing well down over his forehead, denoted 
 great energy of character. His eyes, which were 
 a clear, luminous light-brown in color, were too 
 near the nose, a defect that made him resemble 
 birds of prey. He had the round, brown face that 
 distinguishes the people of the centre of France. 
 One feature corroborated an observation of Lavater 
 as to people predestined to commit murder; his front 
 teeth overlapped. Nevertheless, his face betokened 
 probity and childlike moral innocence: so that it did 
 not seem strange that a woman should have loved 
 him passionately. He had a pleasant mouth, em- 
 bellished with teeth of ivory whiteness. The red 
 of his lips was noticeable by reason of that tinge 
 as of red lead which indicates restrained ferocity, 
 and which, in many men, finds a free field in the 
 lusts of the flesh. His bearing showed no trace of 
 any of the bad habits to which mechanics are ad- 
 dicted. To the eyes of the women who followed 
 the trial, it seemed evident that a woman had
 
 152 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 softened those fibres accustomed to hard work, had 
 ennobled the countenance of that man of the fields 
 and imparted grace to his person. Women recog- 
 nize the traces of love in a man, just as men can 
 judge, in the case of a woman, whether, as the 
 phrase goes, love has passed that way. 
 
 That evening, Jean-Francois heard the noise made 
 by the bolts and the key in the lock; he quickly 
 turned his head and uttered the terrible low growl 
 with which his paroxysms began; but he trembled 
 violently when the beloved faces of his mother and 
 sister appeared in the soft twilight, and behind them 
 the face of the cure of Montegnac. 
 
 " The savages! this is what they had in store for 
 me!" he exclaimed, closing his eyes. 
 
 Denise, as one who had lived in prison, was 
 suspicious of everything; doubtless the spy had 
 hidden, meaning to return: she rushed to her 
 brother's side, laid her face, wet with tears, 
 against his, and whispered in his ear: 
 
 " Do you suppose they will listen to what we 
 say?" 
 
 " Otherwise, they wouldn't have sent you," he 
 replied, aloud. "A long while ago, I asked as a 
 favor not to see any of my family." 
 
 "How they have abused him!" said the mother 
 to the cure. " My poor child! my poor child!" 
 
 She fell on the foot of the pallet, burying her face 
 in the priest's cassock, as he stood near her. 
 
 " I didn't expect to see him bound and tied like 
 this, and put in a bag "
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 153 
 
 " If Jean will promise to be quiet, to make no 
 attempt on his life, and to behave properly while 
 we are with him," said the cure, "I will obtain 
 permission for him to be unbound; but the slight- 
 est departure from his promise will fall upon me." 
 
 " I feel so strongly the need of moving my arms 
 as I please, dear Monsieur Bonnet," said the con- 
 demned man, whose eyes were wet with tears, 
 "that I give you my word that I will do as you 
 wish." 
 
 The cure left the cell, the jailer came in, the 
 strait-jacket was removed. 
 
 "You won't kill me to-night, eh?" said the 
 jailer. 
 
 Jean made no reply. 
 
 " Poor brother," said Denise, offering him a 
 basket which had been carefully inspected, " here 
 are some of the things you like best, for of course 
 they feed you for love of God! " 
 
 She took out some fruit that she had picked as 
 soon as she had learned that she could go to the 
 prison, and a cake which her mother had taken 
 from the table. This attention, which recalled his 
 younger days, his sister's voice and gestures, his 
 mother's presence and the cure's, all combined to 
 bring about a reaction in Jean's mental condition: 
 he burst into tears. 
 
 "Ah! Denise," he said, " I haven't had a single 
 meal in six months. I have eaten when hunger 
 drove me to it, that's all! " 
 
 The mother and daughter went in and out of the
 
 154 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 cell. Animated by the spirit which leads all women 
 to attend to the comfort of men, they ended by pro- 
 viding their poor boy with a hearty supper. They 
 had assistance: orders had been given to aid them in 
 every way consistent with the prisoner's safe-keep- 
 ing. The Des Vanneaulx had had the melancholy 
 courage to contribute to the well-being of the man 
 from whom they still hoped to obtain their inherit- 
 ance. Thus Jean had one last gleam of the joys of 
 domestic life, joys made sad by the tinge of gloom 
 spread over them by the circumstances. 
 
 " Is my appeal rejected?" he said to Monsieur 
 Bonnet. 
 
 " Yes, my child. It only remains for you now to 
 die in a manner befitting a Christian. This life is 
 nothing in comparison with the life that awaits you; 
 you must think of your eternal welfare. You can 
 pay your debt by letting them have your life, but 
 God is not content with so little." 
 
 " Let them have my life? Ah! you do not know 
 all that I must leave!" 
 
 Denise glanced at her brother as if to say to him 
 that, even in religious matters, prudence is essen- 
 tial. 
 
 "Let us not speak of that," he said, eating fruit 
 with an avidity that denoted an inward fire of great 
 intensity. " When must I ?" 
 
 " No, do not speak of that again in my presence!" 
 exclaimed the mother. 
 
 " But I should be more easy in my mind," he said 
 in an undertone to the cure.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 155 
 
 "Still the same disposition!" cried Monsieur 
 Bonnet, as he leaned toward him to say in his ear: 
 " If you are reconciled to God to-night, and if your 
 repentance justifies me in giving you absolution, it 
 will be to-morrow. We have made great progress 
 already by calming you," he added aloud. 
 
 At the last words, Jean's lips turned pale, his eyes 
 contracted violently, and something like the first 
 gust of a storm passed over his face. 
 
 " Why am I calm?" he asked. 
 
 Luckily, he met Denise's tearful eyes, and he 
 recovered his self-control. 
 
 " Well, you are the only one I can listen to," he 
 said to the cure. " Well they knew the only way 
 in which they could conquer me!" 
 
 He threw himself upon his mother's bosom. 
 
 "Listen, my son," said his mother, through her 
 tears; " dear Monsieur Bonnet risks his own life by 
 undertaking to lead you " 
 
 She hesitated, then added: 
 
 " To everlasting life." 
 
 Then she kissed Jean's head and held it against 
 her heart for several moments. 
 
 "He will go with me?" asked Jean, looking at 
 the cure, who took it upon himself to answer by 
 inclining his head. " Very well, I will listen to him, 
 I will do whatever he wishes." 
 
 "Do you promise me?" said Denise; "for the 
 salvation of your soul is what we all long for. Do 
 you want it to be said in Limoges and all over the 
 province that a Tascheron couldn't die like a man?
 
 156 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Think that all you lose here you will find again in 
 heaven, where pardoned souls are reunited." 
 
 That superhuman effort parched the heroic girl's 
 throat. She followed her mother's example, she 
 held her peace, but she had triumphed. The crim- 
 inal, frantic hitherto at the thought of having his 
 happiness snatched from him by the law, felt an 
 involuntary thrill at the sublime Catholic idea so 
 artlessly expressed by his sister. All women, even 
 a young peasant like Denise, can, at need, perform 
 such delicate tasks; do they not all love to think of 
 love as eternal ? Denise had touched a very sensitive 
 chord. Awakened pride aroused the other virtues, 
 frozen by so much misery and struck dumb by 
 despair. Jean took his sister's hand, kissed it, and 
 pressed it to his heart in a profoundly significant 
 manner: he held it gently and powerfully at the 
 same time. 
 
 " Come," he said, " I must give up everything! 
 Here are the last heart-beat and the last thought, 
 Denise; take them!" 
 
 And he bestowed upon her one of those glances 
 by which, in great crises, man tries to impress an 
 image of his heart upon another heart. 
 
 Those words, that thought, were in themselves 
 a whole testament. All those unspoken legacies, 
 which were to be as faithfully transmitted as they 
 had been trustfully bequeathed, were understood so 
 well by the mother, the sister, Jean himself, and the 
 priest, that they all turned away from one another 
 in order not to disclose their tears, and to keep their
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 157 
 
 own counsel concerning their thoughts. Those few 
 words were the death-agony of a passion, the fare- 
 well of a loving heart to the fairest earthly things, in 
 anticipation of an orthodox renunciation. Thus did 
 the cure, overpowered by the majesty of all great 
 human things, even those that are criminal, judge 
 that hidden passion by the magnitude of the sin: he 
 raised his eyes as if to invoke God's forgiveness. 
 There were made manifest the touching consolation 
 and the infinite tenderness of the Catholic religion, 
 so human and so gentle in the hand that descends 
 even to man to explain to him the law of the 
 superior worlds, so divine, and so awe-inspiring in 
 the hand that it holds out to him to lead him to 
 Heaven. But Denise had mysteriously pointed out 
 to the cure the spot where the rock would give way, 
 the cleft from which the waters of repentance would 
 gush forth. Suddenly, disturbed anew by the mem- 
 ories they thus evoked, Jean uttered the blood- 
 curdling cry of the hyena surprised by hunters. 
 
 " No, no!" he cried, falling on his knees, " I wish 
 to live. Take my place, mother, give me your 
 clothes, I shall be able to escape. Mercy! mercy! 
 Go to the king, tell him " 
 
 He stopped, uttered a horrible roar, and clung to 
 the cure's cassock. 
 
 "Go," said Monsieur Bonnet in an undertone to 
 the two heart-broken women. 
 
 Jean heard the words; he raised his head, looked 
 at his mother and his sister, and kissed their feet. 
 
 " Let us say adieu, do not come again; leave me
 
 158 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 alone with Monsieur Bonnet, have no further anx- 
 iety about me," he said to them, straining them to 
 his heart in an embrace in which he seemed to put 
 his whole life. 
 
 " How can people help dying of such grief?" said 
 Denise to her mother, as they passed through the 
 wicket. 
 
 It was about eight o'clock in the evening when 
 this separation took place. At the door of the 
 prison the two women found Abbe de Rastignac, 
 who asked them concerning the prisoner. 
 
 " He will certainly be reconciled to God," said 
 Denise. " If repentance has not already come, it is 
 very near." 
 
 A few moments later the bishop was informed 
 that the clergy would triumph on that occasion, and 
 that the condemned man would go to his doom in 
 the most edifying, religious frame of mind. Mon- 
 seigneur the procureur-general was with him 
 expressed a wish to see the cure. Monsieur Bonnet 
 did not appear until midnight. Abbe Gabriel, who 
 went back and forth many times from the bishop's 
 palace to the jail, thought it best to take the cure in 
 the bishop's carriage, for the poor priest was in a 
 state of prostration which deprived him of the use of 
 his legs. The prospect of the hard day he was to 
 have on the morrow, and the secret struggles he 
 had witnessed, the spectacle of the full repentance 
 to which his long-rebellious lamb had come at last, 
 when the vast scheme of eternity was made clear 
 to him all combined to exhaust Monsieur Bonnet,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 159 
 
 whose nervous, magnetic nature readily took to 
 itself a full share in another's miseries. Hearts like 
 that noble heart espouse so eagerly the impressions, 
 the wretchedness, the passions, the suffering of 
 those in whom they are interested, that they really 
 feel them, but in a horrible way, in that they are 
 able to measure their extent, which escapes those 
 who are blinded by intensity of passion or by par- 
 oxysms of grief. In that respect, a priest like Mon- 
 sieur Bonnet is an artist who feels, instead of being 
 an artist who passes judgment. When the cure 
 found himself in the bishop's salon, surrounded by 
 the two vicars-general, Abbe de Rastignac, Mon- 
 sieur de Granville, and the procureur-general, he 
 thought that he could see that they expected some 
 information from him. 
 
 " Monsieur le Cure," said the bishop, " have you 
 obtained any disclosures which you can entrust to 
 the officers of the law, without proving false to your 
 duties?" 
 
 " Monseigneur, before giving absolution to that 
 poor wandering child, I not only waited until his 
 repentance was as sincere and complete as the 
 Church could wish, but I demanded that the money 
 should be restored." 
 
 "The matter of restitution," said the procureur- 
 general, " is what has brought me to Monseigneur 's 
 house; it must be made in such way as to throw 
 some light upon the unknown parties to this affair. 
 There certainly were accomplices " 
 
 "The interests of human justice," replied the
 
 160 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 cure, "are not the motives of my action. I do not 
 know where or how restitution will be made, but 
 made it will be. By calling me to one of my par- 
 ishioners, Monseigneur placed me in a position where 
 I am acting under the conditions which give to 
 cures within their parishes the same rights that 
 Monseigneur exercises in his diocese, except in cases 
 of ecclesiastical discipline and obedience." 
 
 " Very good," said the bishop. " But what is de- 
 sired is to obtain from the condemned man a volun- 
 tary confession in the presence of the law." 
 
 "My mission is to bring a soul back to God," 
 replied Monsieur Bonnet. 
 
 Monsieur de Grancour shrugged his shoulders 
 slightly, but Abbe Dutheil nodded his head as a 
 sign of approbation. 
 
 " Doubtless, Tascheron wishes to shield some- 
 one whose identity the restitution would disclose?" 
 said the procureur-general. 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the cure, "I know abso- 
 lutely nothing which would tend to contradict or 
 confirm your hypothesis. In any event, the se- 
 crecy of the confessional is inviolable." 
 
 " But the restitution will take place?" inquired 
 the man of law. 
 
 "Yes, monsieur," replied the man of God. 
 
 " That is enough for me," said the procureur- 
 general, who relied upon the skill of the police to 
 obtain information; as if passion and personal in- 
 terest were not more clever than all the police on 
 earth.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 161 
 
 Two days later, on a market-day, Jean-Francois 
 Tascheron was taken to his doom, as all the pious 
 and politic souls in the town desired. A pattern of 
 modesty and piety, he fervently kissed a crucifix 
 which Monsieur Bonnet held in a trembling hand. 
 The unhappy wretch was carefully scrutinized, his 
 glances were watched by every eye: would he look 
 at some one in the crowd, or at some house? His 
 discretion was absolute, inviolable. He died the 
 death of a Christian, repentant and absolved from 
 his sins. 
 
 The poor cure of Montegnac was taken away un- 
 conscious from the foot of the scaffold, although he 
 had not seen the fatal machine. 
 
 During the following night, three leagues from 
 Limoges, at a point on the road where the plain 
 was narrow and deserted, Denise, although ex- 
 hausted with fatigue and grief, begged her father 
 to allow her to return to Limoges with Louis-Marie 
 Tascheron, one of her brothers. 
 
 "What more do you want to do in that town?" 
 demanded the father, sharply, wrinkling his fore- 
 head and contracting his eyebrows. 
 
 "Father," she whispered in his ear, "not only 
 must we pay the lawyer who defended him, but we 
 must restore the money he hid." 
 
 "True," said the upright man, putting his hand 
 in a leather bag which he carried about him. 
 
 "No, no," said Denise,. "he is no longer your 
 son. It is not for those who cursed him, but for 
 those who blessed him, to pay the lawyer." 
 ii
 
 162 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 i 
 
 "We will wait for you at Havre," said the 
 father. 
 
 Denise and her brother re-entered the town, un- 
 seen, before dawn. When, subsequently, the police 
 learned of their return, they could never find out 
 where they had concealed themselves. About four 
 o'clock, Denise and her brother went up to the upper 
 town, keeping close to the walls. The poor girl 
 dared not raise her eyes for fear of meeting other 
 eyes that had seen her brother's head fall. After 
 they had sought out the cure, who, notwithstanding 
 his feeble condition, consented to act as Denise's 
 father and protector on this occasion, they went to 
 the house of the advocate, who lived on Rue de la 
 Comedie. 
 
 " Good morning, my poor children," said the ad- 
 vocate, saluting Monsieur Bonnet; " in what way 
 can I serve you? You wish, perhaps, to employ me 
 to demand your brother's body?" 
 
 " No, monsieur," said Denise, weeping at that 
 thought, which had not occurred to her; " I have 
 come to pay our debt to you, so far as money can 
 pay an everlasting debt." 
 
 "Be seated," said the advocate, noticing that 
 Denise and the cure remained standing. 
 
 Denise turned and took from her dress two five- 
 hundred-franc notes, which were pinned to her 
 chemise, and sat down after handing them to her 
 brother's defender. The cure cast upon the advo- 
 cate a flashing glance which soon became humid. 
 
 "Keep the money for yourself, my poor girl,"
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 163 
 
 said the advocate; "the rich do not pay so hand- 
 somely for a lost cause." 
 
 " Monsieur," said Denise, "it is impossible for 
 me to do as you say." 
 
 "Why, does not the money come from you?" 
 inquired the advocate, eagerly. 
 
 "Excuse me," she said, looking at Monsieur 
 Bonnet, to know if God would not be offended at 
 the falsehood. 
 
 The cure kept his eyes upon the floor. 
 
 "Very well," said the advocate, retaining one 
 five-hundred-franc note and handing the other to the 
 cure, "I will divide with the poor. Now, Denise, 
 exchange this, which certainly is mine," he said, 
 offering her the other note, "for your velvet ribbon 
 and your gold cross. I will hang the cross on my 
 mantel, in memory of the purest and best maiden's 
 heart that I shall ever meet in my professional life." 
 
 "I will give it to you for nothing," cried Denise, 
 taking off the cross and handing it to him. 
 
 "Very well, monsieur," said the cure, "I accept 
 the five hundred francs to be used in exhuming the 
 poor child's body and carrying it to the cemetery at 
 Montegnac. Surely God has forgiven him, and Jean 
 will be allowed to rise with all my flock on the great 
 day when the just and the repentant are summoned 
 to sit at the right hand of the Father." 
 
 " Doubtless," said the advocate. 
 
 He took Denise's hand and drew her toward him 
 to kiss her forehead; but that movement had another 
 object.
 
 164 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "My child, 1 ' he said to her, "no one has five- 
 hundred-franc notes at Montegnac; they are decid- 
 edly scarce at Limoges, where no one takes them 
 except at a discount; so that this money was given 
 to you you will not tell me by whom, nor do I ask 
 you, but listen to me: if you have anything more to 
 do in this town with reference to your brother, be- 
 ware! Monsieur Bonnet and your brother and your- 
 self will be watched by spies. They know that 
 your family has gone. When they find out that 
 you are here, you will be surrounded without sus- 
 pecting it." 
 
 "Alas!" she said, "I have nothing more to do 
 here!" 
 
 "She will be prudent," said the advocate to him- 
 self as he showed her out. " She is warned, let her 
 look to herself." 
 
 In the last days of September, which were as 
 warm as midsummer, the bishop invited the town 
 authorities to dinner. Among the guests were the 
 king's attorney and the avocat-general. The party 
 was enlivened by divers discussions, which prolonged 
 it unduly. There were whist and backgammon, the 
 game that bishops affect. About eleven o'clock the 
 king's attorney was standing on the upper terrace. 
 From the spot where he stood he could see a light on 
 that island, which on a certain evening had attracted 
 the attention of Abbe Gabriel and the bishop, 
 Veronique's island, in fact; that light reminded him 
 of the inexplicable mystery surrounding the crime 
 committed by Tascheron. As he could conceive no
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 165 
 
 reason why a fire should be burning on the Vienne 
 at that hour, the thought that had struck the bishop 
 and his secretary flashed through his mind with a 
 gleam as sudden as that of the light shining in the 
 distance. 
 
 "We have all been great fools!" he cried; "but 
 we have the accomplices." 
 
 He returned to the salon, sought out Monsieur de 
 Granville, and whispered a few words to him, where- 
 upon they both disappeared; but Abbe de Rastignac 
 followed them as a matter of courtesy, watched them 
 go out, saw that they went toward the terrace, and 
 noticed the fire on the edge of the island. 
 
 " She is lost!" he thought. 
 
 The messengers of justice arrived too late. Denise 
 and Louis-Marie, whom Jean had taught to dive, 
 were, in fact, on the shore of the Vienne, at a spot 
 Jean had described to them; but Louis-Marie had 
 already dived four times, and each time he had 
 brought back twenty thousand francs in gold. The 
 first sum was in a silk handkerchief tied together by 
 the four corners. That handkerchief, after being 
 wrung out, had been thrown into a great fire of dead 
 wood, which they had lighted beforehand. Denise 
 did not leave the fire until she saw that the handker- 
 chief was entirely consumed. The second wrapper 
 was a shawl, and the third a cambric handkerchief. 
 Just as she was tossing the fourth wrapper into 
 the fire, the gendarmes, with whom was a commis- 
 sioner of police, seized that important piece of testi- 
 mony, which Denise allowed them to take without
 
 166 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 manifesting the slightest emotion. It was a hand- 
 kerchief upon which, notwithstanding the length of 
 time it had been in the water, there were some 
 traces of blood. Being questioned on the spot as 
 to what she was doing there, Denise said that she 
 had taken the stolen money from the water, follow- 
 ing the directions given by her brother; the commis- 
 sioner asked her why she burned the wrappers, she 
 replied that she was carrying out one of the condi- 
 tions imposed by her brother. When she was asked 
 of what nature the wrappers were, she replied boldly 
 and with perfect truth: 
 
 "A silk handkerchief, a cambric handkerchief, and 
 a shawl." 
 
 The handkerchief that had been seized belonged 
 to her brother. 
 
 This fishing and its attendant circumstances made 
 a great sensation in Limoges. The shawl especially 
 confirmed the prevailing belief that Tascheron had 
 committed his crime through love. 
 
 "He still shelters her after his death," said a 
 lady, upon being informed of these latest disclosures, 
 so adroitly rendered of no avail. 
 
 " Perhaps some husband in Limoges will miss 
 a silk handkerchief, but he will be obliged to 
 hold his peace," said the procureur-general, with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Mistakes in the matter of toilet are becoming 
 so compromising, that I propose to look over my 
 wardrobe this very night," laughed old Madame 
 Ferret.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 167 
 
 " Whose are the pretty little feet whose imprints 
 were so thoroughly effaced?" queried Monsieur de 
 Granville. 
 
 "Bah! an ugly woman's, perhaps," replied the 
 second avocat-general. 
 
 " She has paid dearly for her sin!" observed Abbe 
 de Grancour. 
 
 " Do you know what this affair proves?" cried the 
 avocat-general. " It shows all that women lost in 
 the Revolution, which swept away social distinc- 
 tions. Such passions are no longer met with except 
 in men who see an immense distance between them- 
 selves and their mistresses." 
 
 "You attribute a great store of vanity to love," 
 rejoined Abbe Dutheil. 
 
 "What does Madame Graslin think?" inquired 
 the prefect. 
 
 "What do you suppose that she thinks? She 
 was confined during the execution, as she prophe- 
 sied to me, and she has seen no one since, for she is 
 dangerously ill," replied Monsieur de Granville. 
 
 In another salon in Limoges an almost comical 
 scene took place. The friends of the Des Vanneaulx 
 came to congratulate them on the restitution of their 
 inheritance. 
 
 "Ah! they ought to have pardoned that poor 
 man," said Madame des Vanneaulx. " Love, not 
 selfish greed, was what drove him to that crime: he 
 was neither vicious nor wicked." 
 
 " He acted in a most delicate way," said Monsieur 
 des Vanneaulx, " and, // / knew where his family were,
 
 168 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 / would do something for them. They are excellent 
 people, those Tascherons." 
 
 When, toward the close of the year 1829, Ma- 
 dame Graslin was able to leave her bed after the 
 long illness that followed her confinement and com- 
 pelled her to remain in absolute retirement and in 
 bed, she heard her husband speak of a transaction 
 of considerable magnitude, which he had in contem- 
 plation. The Navarreins family were thinking of 
 selling the forest of Montegnac and the wild lands 
 which they possessed in the vicinity. Graslin had 
 not as yet executed the clause in his marriage-con- 
 tract which bound him to invest his wife's dowry in 
 real estate; he had preferred to employ the money 
 in his banking business, and had already doubled it. 
 Upon hearing the subject mentioned, Veronique 
 seemed to remember the name of Montegnac, and 
 she requested her husband to carry out that stipula- 
 tion by purchasing the Navarreins estate for her. 
 Monsieur Graslin was very desirous to see Monsieur 
 le Cure Bonnet, in order to obtain some information 
 concerning the forest and the outlying lands which 
 the Due de Navarreins proposed to sell; for the 
 duke foresaw the terrible struggle which the Prince 
 de Polignac was making ready to bring about be- 
 tween liberalism and the house of Bourbon, and he 
 augured very ill from it; so that he was one of the 
 most fearless opponents of the Coup d'Etat. The 
 duke had sent his man of business to Limoges, 
 authorizing him to make concessions in consideration 
 of a handsome sum in cash, for he had too vivid a
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 169 
 
 recollection of the Revolution of 1789, not to turn to 
 advantage the lessons it had taught all the aristoc- 
 racy. That man of business had been fencing for 
 a month with Graslin, the shrewdest fox in the 
 Limousin, the only man who was pointed to by one 
 and all as being in a position to purchase and pay 
 cash for a considerable estate. 
 
 Upon receipt of a line from Abbe Dutheil, Mon- 
 sieur Bonnet went at once to Limoges and called at 
 the hotel Graslin. Veronique wished to invite the 
 cure to dine with her; but the banker did not allow 
 him to go up to his wife's apartments until he had 
 talked with him for an hour in his study, and had 
 obtained information which was so satisfactory to 
 him, that he at once concluded the purchase of the 
 forest and domains of Montegnac for five hundred 
 thousand francs. He acquiesced in his wife's wish, 
 stipulating that that purchase and all others con- 
 nected with it were made in pursuance of the clause 
 in his marriage-contract relating to the investment 
 of the dowry. Graslin made this arrangement the 
 more willingly because that act of probity cost him 
 nothing. At the time when the negotiations were 
 concluded, the property consisted of the forest of 
 Montegnac, which contained about thirty thousand 
 acres of wild land, the ruins of the chateau, the 
 gardens, and about five hundred acres in the un- 
 tilled plain before Montegnac. Graslin at once 
 made several purchases to cover the whole of the 
 first peak of the mountains of La Correze, where 
 the so-called forest of Montegnac ends. Since the
 
 170 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 establishment of imposts, the Due de Navarreins did 
 not receive fifteen thousand francs yearly from that 
 estate, formerly one of the richest dependencies in 
 the kingdom, which had escaped the sale ordered 
 by the Convention no less because of the barrenness 
 of the property than because of the admitted impos- 
 sibility of exploiting it. 
 
 When the cure saw the woman whose name he 
 had often heard, a woman celebrated for her piety 
 and her intellect, he could not restrain a gesture of 
 surprise. Veronique had then reached the third 
 phase of her life, that in which she was destined to 
 magnify herself by the practice of the most exalted 
 virtues, and during which she became an entirely 
 different woman. To the Madonna of Raphael, 
 shrouded for eleven years in the torn cloak of the 
 small-pox, had succeeded the noble, beautiful, im- 
 passioned woman; and that woman, bereaved by 
 secret suffering, was transformed into a saint. The 
 face had a yellowish tinge like that which suffuses 
 the austere faces of abbesses renowned for their 
 rigid mortification of the flesh. The chastened tem- 
 ples shone like gold. The lips had faded; they no 
 longer displayed the redness of the open pomegran- 
 ate, but the cold hues of the Bengal rose. In the 
 corner of the eyes, near the nose, grief had made 
 two pearly spots over which many secret tears had 
 rolled. Tears had effaced the marks of the small- 
 pox and worn the skin smooth. One's curiosity 
 was invincibly attracted to that spot, where the blue 
 network of small blood-vessels throbbed fiercely
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 171 
 
 and seemed swollen by the full stream of blood that 
 hurried thither, as if to supply nourishment for her 
 tears. The circle of the eyes alone retained the 
 brown tints, which had become black below the eyes 
 and a dark brown on the lids, now horribly wrinkled. 
 The cheeks were hollow, and their folds indicated 
 deep and serious thought. The chin, the muscles 
 of which were covered in her youth by an abundance 
 of flesh, had grown thin, to the disadvantage of the 
 expression: it disclosed an uncompromising rigidity 
 in religious matters, which she exercised upon her- 
 self alone. Veronique, although but twenty-nine, 
 was obliged to have a vast quantity of white hair 
 removed from her head, leaving only a few scat- 
 tered locks; her confinement had destroyed her 
 hair, formerly one of her loveliest ornaments. Her 
 thinness was terrifying. Notwithstanding her physi- 
 cian's orders to the contrary, she had insisted upon 
 nursing her son. The physician won a triumph in 
 the town when all the changes took place which he 
 had predicted in case she should disobey his orders. 
 
 "You see what result a single confinement may 
 have upon a woman!" he said. "Of course she 
 adores her child. I have always noticed that 
 mothers love their children in proportion to what 
 they cost them." 
 
 But Veronique's withered eyes were the only 
 feature that had retained their youth: the deep blue 
 of the iris emitted a flame of unearthly brilliancy, in 
 which life seemed to have taken refuge on deserting 
 that cold and motionless mask, which lighted up,
 
 172 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 however, with a kindly expression whenever the 
 welfare of her neighbor was in question. So it was 
 that the cure's surprise and dismay vanished as he 
 explained to Madame Graslin all the good that a 
 great land-owner might effect at Montegnac, by 
 residing there. Veronique became beautiful again 
 for a moment, as her face was illumined by the 
 beams of an unhoped-for future. 
 
 "I will go there," she said. " That shall be my 
 property. I will obtain some funds from Monsieur 
 Graslin and join you heartily in your religious work. 
 Montegnac shall be made fertile, we will find water 
 to irrigate your uncultivated plain. Like Moses, you 
 strike a rock, and tears will gush forth!" 
 
 The cure of Montegnac, when questioned concern- 
 ing Madame Graslin by his friends at Limoges, spoke 
 of her as a saint. 
 
 On the day following his purchase, Graslin sent 
 an architect to Montegnac. The banker proposed to 
 restore the chateau, the gardens, the terrace, and 
 the park, and to make inroads upon the forest by 
 felling trees and ploughing, and he set about the 
 work of restoration with a vainglorious energy. 
 
 Two years later, Madame Graslin suffered a great 
 misfortune. In August, 1830, Graslin, taken by 
 surprise by the general crash in commercial and 
 banking circles, was carried under despite his pru- 
 dence; he could not endure the thought of failure, or 
 of losing a fortune of three millions acquired by forty 
 years of toil; the mental disease resulting from his 
 anxiety aggravated the inflammatory trouble that
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 173 
 
 was always lurking in his blood, and he was obliged 
 to take to his bed. Since her confinement, Vero- 
 nique's affection for her husband had developed 
 wonderfully and had overturned all the hopes of her 
 admirer, Monsieur de Granville; she tried to save her 
 husband by her watchful care, she succeeded only in 
 prolonging his agony a few months; but that delay 
 was very useful to Grossetete, who, anticipating his 
 former clerk's demise, obtained from him the informa- 
 tion necessary for a speedy realization of the credits 
 of the firm. 
 
 Graslin died in April, 1831, and his widow's 
 despair yielded only to Christian resignation. Vero- 
 nique's first thought was to abandon her own fortune 
 to the creditors; but Monsieur Graslin's was more 
 than sufficient to pay them all. Two months later, 
 upon the settlement of her husband's affairs, which 
 were taken in charge by Grossetete, Madame Graslin 
 was left with the Montegnac estate and six hundred 
 and sixty thousand francs, the whole of her private 
 fortune; thus her son's name was without stain and 
 Graslin had impaired no one's property, not even 
 his wife's. Francis Graslin, the son, had about a 
 hundred thousand francs of his own. 
 
 Monsieur de Granville, to whom Veronique's 
 moral grandeur and eminent qualities were well 
 known, proposed marriage to her; but, to the 
 amazement of all Limoges, Madame Graslin re- 
 fused the new procureur-general, on the pretext 
 that the Church frowned upon second marriages. 
 Grossetete, who was a man of great good sense
 
 174 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 and of very keen perception, advised Veronique to 
 invest her surplus wealth and the balance of Mon- 
 sieur Graslin's fortune in the public funds, and he 
 at once effected that investment for her, in July, 
 in that class of funds which could be purchased 
 most advantageously, namely, the three per cents, 
 then selling at fifty. Thus Francis had six thou- 
 sand francs a year, and his mother about forty 
 thousand. Veronique's fortune was still the great- 
 est in the department. When everything was 
 settled, Madame Graslin made known her project 
 of leaving Limoges to take up her abode at Mon- 
 tegnac, with Monsieur Bonnet. She sent for the 
 cure once more, in order to consult him concerning 
 the work he had undertaken at Montegnac, in which 
 she proposed to co-operate with him; but he gener- 
 ously strove to turn her from that resolution, by 
 proving to her that her place was in society. 
 
 " I was born of the people and I propose to re- 
 turn to the people," she replied. 
 
 The cure, overflowing with affection for his vil- 
 lage, made the less opposition to Madame Graslin's 
 vocation, because she had voluntarily made it im- 
 possible for herself to remain at Limoges by con- 
 veying the hotel Graslin to Grossetete, who took 
 it at its full value, to reimburse himself for the sums 
 he had advanced. 
 
 On the day of her departure, late in the month of 
 August, 1831, Madame Graslin's friends proposed to 
 accompany her outside the limits of the town. Some 
 went as far as the first posting- station. Veronique
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 175 
 
 was in a caliche with her mother. Abbe Dutheil, 
 who had been recently appointed to a bishopric, sat 
 on the front seat of the carriage with old Grossetete. 
 As they drove across Place d'Aine, Veronique ex- 
 perienced a violent emotion: her face contracted so 
 that trie play of the muscles could be seen; she 
 pressed her child to her breast with a convulsive 
 movement which La Sauviat concealed by taking 
 him away from her at once, for the old mother 
 seemed to have anticipated her daughter's emotion. 
 Chance willed that Madame Graslin should pass the 
 spot where her father's house once stood: she 
 pressed La Sauviat's hand convulsively, great tears 
 gathered in her eyes and rolled rapidly down her 
 cheeks. When she had left Limoges, she cast a 
 last glance behind, and seemed to experience a 
 joyful sensation which was observed by all her 
 friends. When the procureur-general, that young 
 man of twenty-five whom she had refused to take 
 for her husband, kissed her hand with an earnest ex- 
 pression of regret, the newly-created bishop noticed 
 the strange phenomenon of the black pupil of Vero- 
 nique's eye encroaching upon the blue, which was 
 reduced to a narrow circle. The eye plainly indi- 
 cated a violent internal revolution. 
 
 " I shall never see him again!" she whispered to 
 her mother, who received that communication with- 
 out betraying the slightest emotion upon her old 
 face. 
 
 Grossetete was watching La Sauviat at that mo- 
 ment from his seat opposite her; but, with all his
 
 176 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 shrewdness, the former banker could not divine the 
 hatred that Veronique had conceived for that magis- 
 trate, although he was received at her house. In 
 that direction, churchmen possess a much more 
 extensive perspicacity than other men; so the 
 bishop surprised Veronique by a genuine priestly 
 glance. 
 
 "You will regret nothing that you leave behind 
 at Limoges?" said monseigneur to Madame Graslin. 
 
 "You are about to leave the town," she an- 
 swered. "And monsieur will go there much less 
 frequently now," she added, smiling at Grossete*te, 
 who was just saying farewell to her. 
 
 The bishop escorted Veronique to Montegnac. 
 
 " I ought to wear mourning over this road!" she 
 said in her mother's ear, as they walked up the hill 
 of Saint-Leonard. 
 
 The old woman, with her coarse, wrinkled face, 
 put her finger to her lips as she pointed to the 
 bishop, who was examining the child with alarming 
 attention. That gesture, but, above all, the prelate's 
 luminous gaze, caused Madame Graslin a sort of 
 shudder. At the sight of the vast moors which lay 
 like a gray sheet around Montegnac, Veronique's 
 eyes lost their fire: she became melancholy. At 
 that moment she spied the cure coming to meet her, 
 and took him into her carriage. 
 
 " There are your estates, madame," said Monsieur 
 Bonnet, pointing to the uncultivated moor.
 
 IV 
 
 MADAME GRASLIN AT MONTEGNAC 
 
 In a few moments the village of Montegnac and its 
 hill, where the eye was attracted by the new build- 
 ings, came in sight, gilded by the setting sun and 
 instinct with the poesy due to the contrast produced 
 by that pretty bit of nature, placed there like an 
 oasis in the desert. Madame Graslin's eyes filled 
 with tears; the cure pointed to a broad white track, 
 like a scar, on the mountain side. 
 
 " That is what my parishioners have done to tes- 
 tify their gratitude to their chatelaine," he said, as 
 he pointed to that rough road. "We can go up to 
 the chateau in the carriage. That road has been 
 built without costing you a sou; in two months we 
 will have it lined with trees. Monseigneur can 
 conceive the trouble and toil and devotion neces- 
 sary to effect such a change." 
 
 " They have done that!" exclaimed the bishop. 
 
 "And refuse to accept anything for it, monsei- 
 gneur. The very poorest have lent a hand, knowing 
 that one was coming who would be a mother to 
 them." 
 
 At the foot of the mountain the travellers saw all 
 
 12 (I 77 )
 
 1/8 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the inhabitants assembled; they discharged a few 
 bombs and guns; then the two prettiest girls came 
 forward, dressed in white, and offered Madame 
 Graslin flowers and fruit. 
 
 " To think of receiving such a welcome to this 
 village!" she cried, grasping Monsieur Bonnet's hand 
 as if she were falling over the brink of a precipice. 
 
 The crowd accompanied the carriage as far as the 
 main entrance. From there, Madame Graslin could 
 see her chateau, of which thus far she had seen 
 only the massive outlines. At the sight, she felt 
 something like a thrill of terror at the magnificence 
 of her estate. Stone is scarce in the province, the 
 granite that is found in the mountains is exceedingly 
 difficult to quarry: therefore the architect to whom 
 Graslin had entrusted the rebuilding of the chateau 
 had made brick the principal element in the vast 
 structure; and it was the more economical because 
 the forest of Montegnac furnished both the clay and 
 wood necessary for brickmaking. The timber and 
 the stone for all the buildings also came from the 
 forest. Had it not been for the savings effected in 
 that way, Graslin would have ruined himself. The 
 greater part of the outlay had consisted in transpor- 
 tation of material, in preparing it for use, and in 
 wages. Thus the money had remained in the vil- 
 lage and had revivified it. At the first glance, and 
 from a distance, the chateau seems to be an enor- 
 mous red mass striped with threads of black, repre- 
 senting the joints, and bordered with gray lines, for 
 the window and door frames, the entablatures, the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 179 
 
 corners, and the stone courses at each floor are of 
 granite, cut in diamond shape. The courtyard, 
 which is oval in shape and sloping, like that of the 
 chateau of Versailles, is surrounded by brick walls, 
 divided into sections by tablets framed in jutting, 
 uncut blocks of granite. At the base of the walls are 
 thickets, remarkable by reason of the arrangement 
 of the shrubs, all of different shades of green. Two 
 magnificent gates, facing each other, lead on one 
 side to a terrace that overlooks Montegnac, on the 
 other to the offices and a farmhouse. The great 
 main gateway, at which the road just finished ends, 
 is flanked by two pretty pavilions in the style of 
 the sixteenth century. The facade on the courtyard, 
 consisting of three pavilions, one in the centre and 
 separated from the other two by two wings, faces 
 the east. The facade on the gardens, arranged in 
 exactly the same way, faces the west. The pavil- 
 ions have only one window in front, and each wing 
 has three. The pavilion in the centre, shaped like 
 a bell-tower, and with vermiculated work at the 
 corners, is noticeable for the refined taste of divers 
 carvings, distributed with a sparing hand. Art is 
 timid in the provinces, and although, in 1829, deco- 
 ration had made great progress on paper, owners of 
 real estate were afraid of the expense, which the 
 absence of competition and of skilled workmen com- 
 bined to make most formidable. The pavilion at 
 each end, which is three windows deep, is sur- 
 mounted by very high, pointed roofs, adorned with 
 granite balustrades, and in each pyramidal section
 
 180 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 of the roof, cut by a graceful platform with beaded 
 edge and cast-iron railing, is a beautifully carved 
 window. The cornices of the doors and windows 
 on each floor are decorated with carvings copied 
 from those of certain houses in Genoa. The pa- 
 vilion with three windows facing south overlooks 
 Montegnac; the other, with a northern exposure, 
 overlooks the forest. 
 
 From the garden front, the eye commands that 
 part of Montegnac which includes Les Tascherons, 
 and the road leading to the chief town of the arron- 
 dissement. The courtyard front enjoys the view 
 afforded by the vast plains, bordered by the moun- 
 tains of La Correze in the direction of Montegnac, 
 but in the other direction extending to the invisible 
 line of the horizon. The wings have, above the 
 ground-floor, a single floor with sloping roofs above, 
 pierced by dormer-windows in the old style; but 
 the two pavilions at each end have two floors 
 above the ground-floor. The one in the centre is 
 crowned by a flattened dome, like that of the so- 
 called Pavilions d'Horloge at the Tuileries and 
 the Louvre, and containing a single room, which 
 forms a sort of lookout, and is embellished with a 
 clock. For the sake of economy, all the roofs 
 were covered with gutter-tiles, making an enormous 
 weight, which was easily supported by the heavy 
 timbers cut in the forest. Before he died, Graslin 
 had laid out the road which had just been finished 
 through gratitude; for that undertaking, which Gras- 
 lin called his folly, had put five hundred thousand
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE l8l 
 
 francs in circulation in the commune. As a result, 
 Montegnac had materially increased in size. Behind 
 the offices, on the hillside toward the north, which 
 sloped gently down to the plain, Graslin had begun 
 to build some immense farm buildings, which indi- 
 cated a purpose to turn the waste lands to some use. 
 Six under-gardeners were quartered in the offices, 
 and, under the direction of a concierge, who acted as 
 head-gardener, were engaged in planting and finish- 
 ing such work as Monsieur Bonnet deemed indis- 
 pensable. The ground-floor of the chateau, which 
 was intended entirely for reception-rooms, was 
 sumptuously furnished. The first floor was decid- 
 edly bare, as Monsieur Graslin's death had brought 
 the shipment of furniture to a standstill. 
 
 "Ah! monseigneur," said Madame Graslin to the 
 bishop, after she had made the tour of the chateau, 
 " I expected to live in a hovel! poor Monsieur Gras- 
 lin spent money foolishly " 
 
 "And you," added the bishop, after a pause, 
 noticing how Madame Graslin shuddered when he 
 spoke, " you are going to spend money in charity!" 
 
 She took her mother's arm, the old woman leading 
 Francis by the hand, and went with them to the long 
 terrace below which lie the church and the rectory, 
 and from which the houses in the village can be 
 seen on the different levels. The cure took posses- 
 sion of Monseigneur Dutheil to point out the different 
 aspects of the landscape. But the two priests soon 
 spied Veronique and her mother at the other end of 
 the terrace, standing as motionless as statues: the
 
 1 82 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 old woman had her handkerchief in her hand and 
 was wiping her eyes, the daughter had her hands 
 stretched out over the balustrade and seemed to 
 be pointing to the church below. 
 
 "What is the matter, madame?" the cure asked 
 La Sauviat. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Madame Graslin, as she turned 
 and walked a few steps to meet the priests. " I did 
 not know that the cemetery was to be under my very 
 eyes " 
 
 " You can have it removed; the law permits you." 
 . "The law!" she said, uttering the words like a 
 shriek. 
 
 Thereupon the bishop glanced at Veronique once 
 more. Fatigued by the threatening expression with 
 which that priest pierced the veil of flesh that covered 
 her mind and discovered the secret that lay hidden 
 in one of the graves of that cemetery, she cried: 
 
 " Well, yes!" 
 
 The bishop put his hand over his eyes, and stood 
 for some moments overwhelmed, lost in thought. 
 
 " Help my daughter!" cried the old woman, " she 
 is turning pale." 
 
 " The air is keen, it has given me a chill," said 
 Madame Graslin, falling in a swoon into the arms of 
 the two churchmen, who carried her to one of the 
 rooms of the chateau. 
 
 When she recovered consciousness, she saw the 
 bishop and the cure, both on their knees, praying 
 for her. 
 
 " May the angel who has visited you, never leave
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 183 
 
 you!" said the bishop, as he gave her his blessing. 
 ''Adieu, my daughter." 
 
 His words caused Madame Graslin to burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " Is she saved?" cried La Sauviat. 
 
 " In this world and in the other," replied the 
 bishop, turning once more before leaving the room. 
 
 The room to which La Sauviat had bade them 
 carry her daughter was on the first floor of the end 
 pavilion which overlooked the church, the cemetery, 
 and the southern portion of Montegnac. Madame 
 Graslin wished to remain there and installed her- 
 self as comfortably as possible with Aline and little 
 Francis. La Sauviat naturally remained with her 
 daughter. Madame Graslin required several days 
 to recover from the intense emotion which had 
 overcome her on her arrival, and her mother com- 
 pelled her to remain in bed every morning. In the 
 evening, Veronique sat on the bench on the terrace, 
 whence her eyes wandered from the church to the 
 rectory and the cemetery. Despite the dogged 
 opposition of La Sauviat, Madame Graslin seemed 
 bent upon adopting the maniacal habit of sitting 
 always in the same place and abandoning herself 
 to melancholy reflections. 
 
 "Madame is dying," said Aline to La Sauviat. 
 
 Warned by those two women, the cure, who was 
 loath to intrude, came assiduously to see Madame 
 Graslin, as soon as it was suggested to him that her 
 mind was diseased. That true shepherd was careful 
 to pay his visits at the hour when Veronique was
 
 1 84 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 accustomed to station herself at the corner of the 
 terrace with her son, both in mourning. October 
 had begun, nature was becoming gloomy and sad. 
 Monsieur Bonnet, who had realized, ever since her ar- 
 rival at Montegnac, that she was suffering from some 
 painful internal wound, deemed it wise to await the 
 unreserved confidence of this woman who was almost 
 certain to become his penitent. One evening, Madame 
 Graslin looked at the cure with eyes rendered almost 
 inanimate by the fatal indecision often observed in 
 those who cherish the thought of death. From that 
 moment, Monsieur Bonnet no longer hesitated, but 
 made it his duty to check the progress of that cruel 
 mental malady. At first, there ensued between 
 Veronique and the priest a conflict of empty words, 
 beneath which they concealed their real thoughts. 
 Notwithstanding the cold, Veronique was sitting 
 upon a stone bench with Francis on her knee. La 
 Sauviat was standing, leaning against the brick 
 balustrade, and purposely shut off the view of the 
 cemetery. Aline was waiting for her mistress to 
 give her the child. 
 
 "I thought, madame," said the cure, who was 
 then making his seventh call upon her, "that melan- 
 choly was your only trouble; but I see," he said in 
 her ear, "that you are suffering from despair. That 
 is neither a Christian nor a Catholic sentiment." 
 
 " Oh!" she rejoined, with a piercing glance at 
 the sky, and allowing a bitter smile to play about 
 her lips, "what sentiment does the Church leave to 
 the damned, if not despair?"
 
 ON THE TERRACE AT MONTEGNAC 
 
 "The air is keen, it has given me a chill," said 
 Madame Graslin, falling in a swoon into the arms 
 of the two churchmen, who carried her to one of the 
 rooms of the chateau.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 185 
 
 Those words enabled the holy man to detect pro- 
 found and extensive devastation in that heart. 
 
 "Ah! you make of this hill your hell, when it 
 should be the Calvary whence you could take your 
 flight to Heaven." 
 
 " I no longer have pride enough to place myself 
 upon such a pedestal," she replied, in a tone which 
 disclosed her profound contempt for herself. 
 
 Thereupon the priest, in one of those moments 
 of inspiration which are so natural and so plentiful 
 in such beautiful virgin minds, the man of God 
 took the child in his arms, kissed him on the fore- 
 head, and said: "Poor little fellow!" in a fatherly 
 tone; then handed him to the maid, who carried him 
 away. 
 
 La Sauviat glanced at her daughter and realized 
 how efficacious Monsieur Bonnet's impulse had 
 been, for Veronique's eyes, so long dry, were wet 
 with tears. The old Auvergnat made a sign to the 
 priest and disappeared. 
 
 "Let us walk," said Monsieur Bonnet to Vero- 
 nique, leading her the whole length of the terrace 
 from the other end of which Les Tascherons could 
 be seen. " You belong to me, I have to account to 
 God for your diseased mind." 
 
 " Let me recover from my prostration," she said. 
 
 " Your prostration is due to unhealthy medita- 
 tion," he replied, quickly. 
 
 "Yes, "she replied, with the ingenuousness of 
 sorrow that has reached the point where one throws 
 circumspection to the winds.
 
 1 86 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " I see, you have fallen into the abyss of indiffer- 
 ence!" he cried. " If there is a degree of physical 
 suffering at which modesty ceases to exist, there is 
 also a degree of moral suffering at which mental 
 energy disappears, as I well know." 
 
 She was amazed to find such subtlety of percep- 
 tion and such tender compassion in Monsieur Bon- 
 net; but, as we have already seen, the exquisite 
 delicacy of feeling, which no passion had perverted 
 in that man, gave him a woman's motherly affection 
 for the sorrows of his flock. That mens dimnior, 
 that apostolic tenderness, places the priest above 
 other men, makes of him a divine being. Madame 
 Graslin had not as yet seen enough of Monsieur 
 Bonnet to discover the beauty hidden in his heart 
 as in a spring, from which flow grace and fresh- 
 ness, and true life. 
 
 "Ah! monsieur!" she cried, surrendering to him 
 with the gesture and expression of a dying woman. 
 
 " I understand you!" he said. "What are you 
 to do? What is to become of you?" 
 
 They walked silently along the balustrade, down 
 toward the moor. That solemn moment seemed a 
 propitious season to the bearer of good tidings, to 
 that son of Jesus. 
 
 " Suppose that you were in God's presence," he 
 said, in a low, mysterious voice, "what would you 
 say to Him?" 
 
 Madame Graslin stopped as if struck by light- 
 ning, and shivered slightly. 
 
 " I would say to Him as Christ said: ' Father, thou
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 187 
 
 hast forsaken me!'" she replied simply, and in a 
 tone that brought tears to the cure's eyes. 
 
 " O Magdalen! those are the words I expected to 
 hear from you," cried he, unable to restrain his ad- 
 miration. "You see, you have recourse to God's 
 justice, you appeal to Him! Listen to me, madame. 
 Religion is, in anticipation, divine justice. The 
 Church has reserved to itself the trial of all causes 
 involving the soul. Human justice is a feeble image 
 of divine justice, it is naught but a colorless imita- 
 tion applied to the needs of society." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 "You are not judge in your own cause, you are 
 in God's hands," replied the priest; " you have not 
 the right to convict or to acquit yourself. God, my 
 child, is a great reviewer of causes." 
 
 "Ah!" she exclaimed. 
 
 " He sees the origin of things, where we see only 
 the things themselves." 
 
 Veronique stood still, impressed by these ideas, 
 which were new to her. 
 
 "To you," continued the courageous priest, "to 
 you, because of your grandeur of soul, I owe differ- 
 ent words from those I owe my humble parishioners. 
 You, whose mind is so cultivated, can exalt yourself 
 to the divine meaning of the Catholic religion, which 
 is expressed by images and by words to the ignorant 
 and the poor. Listen carefully to what I say, your 
 welfare is at stake; for, despite the great scope of 
 the point of view at which I propose to take my 
 stand for a moment, it will be your cause that I
 
 1 88 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 argue. The law, invented to protect society, is 
 based upon equality. Society, which is simply a 
 collection of facts, is based upon inequality. Thus 
 there is a lack of harmony between the fact and the 
 law. Should the progress of society be impeded or 
 favored by the law? In other words, should the law 
 oppose the internal social movement to maintain 
 society, or should it be made to conform to that 
 movement in order to guide society? Since the 
 existence of societies, no legislator has dared take 
 it upon himself to answer that question. All legis- 
 lators have contented themselves with analyzing 
 facts, pointing out those persons who seem to them 
 reprehensible or criminal, and establishing systems 
 of punishment and recompense. Such is the human 
 law: it has neither the means of preventing crimes, 
 nor the means of preventing their repetition by those 
 whom it has punished. Philanthropy is a sublime 
 error, it tortures the body to no purpose, it does not 
 produce the balm that cures the soul. The philan- 
 thropist evolves schemes, puts forth ideas, and en- 
 trusts their execution to man, to silence, to toil, to 
 orders, to dumb, helpless things. Religion knows 
 nothing of these imperfections, for it has extended 
 the confines of life beyond this world. By looking 
 upon all of us as fallen from a higher estate, and as 
 being in a state of degradation, it has opened an in- 
 exhaustible treasure of indulgence; we are all more 
 or less advanced toward our complete regeneration, 
 no one is infallible: the Church expects faults, 
 yes, even crimes. Where society sees a criminal to
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 189 
 
 pluck from its bosom, the Church sees a soul to be 
 saved. More than that! Inspired by God, whom it 
 studies and contemplates, the Church acknowledges 
 the inequality of men's powers, it takes into account 
 the disproportion of burdens. If it finds you unequal 
 in heart, in body, in mind, in ability, in merit, it 
 makes you all equal by repentance. Therein, 
 madame, equality is no longer an empty word, for 
 we can be, we are all equal by virtue of our senti- 
 ments. From the hideous fetich worship of savage 
 tribes to the gracious inventions of Greece, to the 
 profound and ingenious doctrines of the Egyptians 
 and the Hindoos, interpreted by pleasing or repulsive 
 forms of worship, there has always been in man one 
 fixed conviction, the conviction of his fall, of his sin, 
 whence the universal idea of sacrifice and redemp- 
 tion. The death of the Redeemer, who redeemed 
 the human race, is the image of what we ought to 
 do for ourselves: redeem our faults! redeem our 
 errors! redeem our crimes! Everything may be 
 redeemed those words are the essence of Cathol- 
 icism; thence come its adorable sacraments, which 
 assist in the triumph of grace and support the 
 sinner. To weep, madame, to groan like Magdalen 
 in the desert, is only the beginning; to act is the 
 end. The monasteries wept and acted, they prayed 
 and spread civilization; they were the active instru- 
 ments of our divine religion. They built, planted, 
 cultivated Europe, while saving the treasure-houses 
 of our knowledge and of human justice, politics, and 
 art. The location of those irradiating centres in
 
 190 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Europe will always be recognizable. The majority 
 of modern cities are daughters of some monastery. 
 If you believe that God is your Judge, the Church 
 says to you by my voice that everything may be 
 redeemed by the good works of repentance. God's 
 great hands weigh at once the evil that is done and 
 the value of the good accomplished. Be in yourself 
 the monastery, you may recommence here the age 
 of miracles. Your prayers should be good works. 
 From your good works will flow the happiness of 
 those above whom you are placed by your fortune, 
 your intellect, everything, even this natural situa- 
 tion, an image of your social position." 
 
 At that moment, the priest and Madame Graslin 
 turned to retrace their steps toward the plain below, 
 so that the cure could point at the same time to the 
 village at the foot of the hill and the chateau domi- 
 nating the landscape. It was then half-past four. 
 A golden sunbeam shone upon the balustrade and 
 the gardens, illuminated the chateau, gleamed on the 
 pedestals of gilded iron; it lighted up the long, flat 
 plain, divided by the road, a melancholy gray ribbon 
 which had not the garland formed of trees that we 
 see on both sides of other roads. When Veronique 
 and Monsieur Bonnet had passed the huge mass of 
 the chateau, they could see, above the courtyard, the 
 stables and the offices, the forest of Montegnac, over 
 which that sunbeam glided like a caress. Although 
 that last ray of the setting sun touched only the 
 highest points, it enabled them to see perfectly, 
 from the hill on which Montegnac lies to the first
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 191 
 
 peak of the chain of La Correze, the vagaries of 
 the superb tapestry that a forest displays in au- 
 tumn. The oaks were masses of Florentine bronze; 
 the walnuts and chestnuts exhibited their verdigris 
 tones; the early-blossoming trees were arrayed in 
 their golden foliage, and all those colors were soft- 
 ened by gray patches of unfilled land. The trunks 
 of the trees that were entirely stripped of leaves 
 were like white pillars. Those ruddy, tawny, gray 
 tints, artistically blended by the pale reflection of 
 the October sun, harmonized with that fertile oasis, 
 with that vast tract of fallow-land, of a greenish hue, 
 like stagnant water. It occurred to the priest to call 
 attention to that lovely, mute spectacle; not a tree, 
 not a bird, death on the plain, silence in the forest; 
 here and there a column of smoke from the cottages 
 in the village. The chateau seemed gloomy, like its 
 mistress. By virtue of a singular law, everything 
 about a house copies the person who holds sway 
 therein, and whose mind hovers over it. Madame 
 Graslin, who was impressed by the cure's words, 
 whose heart was moved by his intense conviction, 
 and whose womanly tenderness was appealed to by 
 the angelic quality of his voice, suddenly stopped. 
 The cure raised his hand and pointed to the forest; 
 Veronique looked that way. 
 
 "Do you not see in that forest a sort of vague 
 resemblance to social life? Every man to his des- 
 tiny! Observe the inequalities in that mass of trees. 
 Those that are perched highest lack nourishing soil 
 and water; they die first!"
 
 192 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "They are the ones that the bill-hook of the 
 woman who gathers wood cuts off in the flower of 
 their youth!" she said, bitterly. 
 
 " Do not recur to those sentiments," rejoined the 
 cure, sternly, albeit indulgently. "It is the misfor- 
 tune of this forest that it has never been cut; do 
 you see the phenomenon that those dense masses 
 present?" 
 
 Veronique, for whom the natural peculiarities of 
 forests had little interest, obediently rested her eyes 
 on the forest, then turned them softly on the cure. 
 
 "Do you not notice," he said, divining her igno- 
 rance from that glance, " lines below which the trees 
 of every sort are still green?" 
 
 "Ah! yes, 1 see," she cried. " Why?" 
 
 "There," replied the cure, "lies the fortune of 
 Montegnac and your own; a vast fortune which I 
 had pointed out to Monsieur Graslin. You see the 
 furrows formed by three valleys, the streams from 
 which empty into the Gabou. That stream sepa- 
 rates the forest of Montegnac from the commune 
 adjoining ours on that side. It is dry in September 
 and October, but carries a great deal of water in 
 November. The supply could easily be increased 
 by a little work in the forest in the direction of 
 saving it all and connecting the smallest springs, but 
 the water now serves no useful purpose; but build a 
 dam or two between the two hills, to keep it back 
 and store it, as Riquet did at Saint-Ferreol, where 
 immense reservoirs were built to feed the Langue- 
 doc canal, and you will fertilize that wild moor with
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 193 
 
 water judiciously distributed by trenches, and the 
 supply regulated by gates; water that can be used for 
 drinking, if necessary, and the overflow be directed 
 into our little stream. You will have handsome pop- 
 lars along your canals, and you will raise cattle in the 
 finest fields imaginable. What is grass? sun and 
 water. There is enough soil in these plains for the 
 roots of the grass; the streams will furnish dew 
 which will fertilize the soil, the poplars will feed 
 upon it and check the progress of the mists, so that 
 their nourishing elements will be pumped out by all 
 the plants: such are the secrets of the luxuriant 
 vegetation in the valleys. Some day you will see 
 life and joy and activity where silence now reigns, 
 where the glance is made sad by the prevailing 
 barrenness. Will not that be a beautiful prayer? 
 Will not such works employ your leisure better than 
 melancholy thoughts?" 
 
 Veronique pressed the cure's hand, and said only 
 these words, but they were sublime words: 
 
 " It shall be done, monsieur." 
 
 "You can plan this great undertaking," he con- 
 tinued, "but you cannot execute it. Neither you 
 nor I have the necessary knowledge for carrying out 
 an idea, which may occur to any man, but which 
 raises enormous difficulties, for, although simple and 
 hardly visible, those difficulties call for the applica- 
 tion of the most exact scientific principles. Begin 
 to-day, therefore, to look about for the human instru- 
 ments who will enable you to collect, twelve years 
 hence, an income of six or seven thousand louis from 
 13
 
 194 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the six thousand acres thus fertilized. That work will 
 some day make Montegnac one of the richest com- 
 munes in the department. The forest yields you 
 no revenue as yet, but sooner or later speculation 
 will come in quest of these magnificent trees, treas- 
 ures amassed by time, the only treasures whose 
 production cannot be hastened or replaced by man. 
 Some day perhaps the State will itself provide 
 means of transportation from this forest, for the 
 timber would be useful for its navy; but it will wait 
 until the population of Montegnac, increased tenfold, 
 demands its protection, for the State is like fortune, 
 it gives only to the rich. This estate will be, in 
 time, one of the finest in France; it will be the 
 pride of your grandson, who perhaps will consider 
 the chateau a paltry affair in comparison with the 
 revenues." 
 
 " That shall be my life-work," said Veronique. 
 
 "Such a work will atone for many sins," replied 
 the cure. 
 
 Seeing that he was understood, he tried to leave 
 one final impression upon that woman's mind: he 
 had guessed that, in her case, the mind led to the 
 heart; whereas, on the contrary, in most women 
 the heart is the pathway to the mind. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, after a pause, "in 
 what a state of error you are?" 
 
 She looked timidly at him. 
 
 "Your repentance is as yet only the feeling of a 
 defeat suffered; the despair of Satan is a horrible 
 thing, but such was, it may be, the repentance of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 195 
 
 men before Christ's coming; but repentance, as we 
 Catholics view it, is the terror of a soul that stum- 
 bles in the evil way, and to whom God reveals 
 himself in that shock! . You resemble the heathen 
 Orestes, become Saint Paul!" 
 
 "Your words have changed me completely," she 
 cried. " Now, oh! now, I long to live." 
 
 "The spirit has conquered," said the modest 
 priest to himself, as he took his leave with a glad 
 heart. 
 
 He had tossed food to the secret despair that was 
 devouring Madame Graslin, by giving to her repent- 
 ance the form of a noble and meritorious action. So 
 Veronique wrote to Monsieur Grossette the very 
 next day. A few days later, she received from 
 Limoges three saddle-horses sent by that old friend. 
 At Veronique's request, Monsieur Bonnet recom- 
 mended to her the postmaster's son, a young man 
 who was overjoyed to put himself at Madame Gras- 
 lin 's service and earn fifty crowns. He was a 
 chubby-faced boy, with black eyes and hair, short 
 and sturdily built, named Maurice Champion; Vero- 
 nique was pleased with him, and he assumed his 
 new duties at once. He was to accompany his 
 mistress on her excursions and take care of the 
 saddle-horses. 
 
 The head-keeper of Montegnac was an ex-quarter- 
 master in the Garde Royale, born at Limoges, 
 whom Monsieur le Due de Navarreins had sent to 
 Montegnac from one of his estates, to study its 
 value and transmit his views to him, so that he
 
 196 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 might ascertain what it could be made to yield. 
 Jerome Colorat saw nothing there but wild, unfruit- 
 ful plains, forests that could not be exploited because 
 of the difficulties of transportation, a ruined chateau, 
 and the necessity of an enormous outlay to make 
 the place habitable and restore the gardens. Dis- 
 mayed above all by the clearings, strewn with 
 granite boulders, which made dark patches in the 
 vast forest as seen from a distance, that honest but 
 unintelligent servitor was responsible for the sale of 
 the property. 
 
 "Colorat," said Madame Graslin to her keeper, 
 having summoned him to her presence, " beginning 
 to-morrow, I shall probably ride every morning. 
 You should be familiar with the various estates that 
 go to make up this domain, and with those that 
 Monsieur Graslin added to it; I propose to make a 
 tour of inspection, and you will point them out 
 to me." 
 
 The people at the chateau learned with joy of 
 the change that had taken place in Veronique's 
 mode of life. Aline, without waiting for orders, 
 hunted up her mistress's old black riding-habit 
 and put it in condition to wear. The next day, La 
 Sauviat, with inexpressible pleasure, saw her daugh- 
 ter dressed for riding. Under the guidance of her 
 keeper and Champion, who consulted their respec- 
 tive memories as they went along, for the paths in 
 those uninhabited mountains were hardly marked, 
 Madame Graslin set herself the task at first of 
 riding only over those summits to which her woods
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 197 
 
 extended, in order to make herself familiar with the 
 slopes and the ravines, natural roadways which cut 
 that long crest. She wished to measure her task, 
 to study the nature of the currents, and go down to 
 the foundations of the enterprise suggested by the 
 cure. She followed Colorat, who rode first, while 
 Champion rode a few steps behind her. 
 
 So long as their path lay through the thickly 
 wooded country, alternately ascending and descend- 
 ing the undulations that follow one another so rapidly 
 in the mountainous parts of France, Veronique was 
 absorbed by the marvels of the forest. There were 
 trees hundreds of years old, the first specimens of 
 which surprised her greatly, but to which she finally 
 became accustomed; then there were tall natural 
 hedges, or, in a clearing, a solitary pine of prodigious 
 height; and then, a much rarer thing, one of those 
 shrubs which are dwarfed everywhere else, but, 
 under peculiar conditions, reach gigantic proportions, 
 and are sometimes as old as the soil. She felt an in- 
 describable thrill at sight of a cloud rolling over bare 
 rocks. She noticed the white furrows made by the 
 streams of melted snow, which, at a distance, re- 
 semble scars. Beyond a gorge, devoid of vegetation, 
 she gazed in admiration at the centenary chestnuts, 
 as straight as Alpine firs, growing on a rock-strewn 
 hillside. The rapid pace at which they rode afforded 
 bird's-eye views, now of vast tracts of moving sand, 
 quagmires with a few trees growing here and there, 
 granite boulders, hanging rocks, dark valleys, great 
 fields of heather, some in bloom, others withered;
 
 198 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 now, of gloomy solitudes, where junipers and caper- 
 bushes grow; now, of meadows carpeted with short 
 grass, patches of ground enriched by venerable slime; 
 in a word, of the melancholies, the splendors, the 
 attractive and the rugged aspects, the curious spec- 
 tacles afforded by nature in the mountains of central 
 France. And, as she gazed upon those pictures, out- 
 wardly varying but instinct with the same thought, 
 the profound melancholy expressed by that exposi- 
 tion of nature, at once wild and deserted, ruined, 
 barren, gained upon her and harmonized with her 
 secret feelings. And when, looking down through a 
 notch, she saw the moors at her feet, when she had 
 to climb some arid ravine where stunted shrubs had 
 grown among the sand and rocks, and that spectacle 
 recurred from moment to moment, the spirit of that 
 rugged nature impressed her, suggested ideas that 
 were new to her and were aroused by the meaning 
 of that varied panorama. 
 
 There is not an acre of forest that has not its sig- 
 nificance; not a clearing, not a thicket that does not 
 suggest analogies to the labyrinth of human thoughts. 
 Who, among those whose minds have been cultivated 
 or whose hearts have been wounded, can walk in a 
 forest and not hear the forest speak to him? In- 
 sensibly there arises a voice, comforting or terrible, 
 but more frequently comforting than terrible. If we 
 should seek the causes of the sensation, at once 
 grave, soothing, simple, and mysterious, that seizes 
 us at such times, perhaps we should find them in the 
 sublime and ingenious spectacle of all those creatures
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 199 
 
 obedient and unchangeably resigned to their destiny. 
 Sooner or later the overwhelming consciousness of 
 the permanence of nature fills your heart, moves 
 you profoundly, and you end by being anxious con- 
 cerning God. 
 
 Thus Veronique, in the silence of those peaks, in 
 the perfumed woods, in the serenity of the air, ac- 
 quired, as she told Monsieur Bonnet that evening, 
 the certainty of august clemency. She caught a 
 glimpse of the possibility of an order of things more 
 elevated than that in which her reveries had there- 
 tofore revolved. She felt happy, in a measure. Not 
 for a long time had she experienced such peace of 
 mind. Was that feeling due to the similarity she 
 detected between those regions and the exhausted, 
 withered regions of her heart? Had she gazed upon 
 those disturbances of nature with a sort of delight, 
 reflecting that inert matter was chastised there, 
 although it had not sinned? Certainly she was most 
 profoundly moved; for Colorat and Champion called 
 each other's attention to her several times, as if she 
 seemed to them transfigured. At a certain point, 
 Veronique detected something indefinably stern 
 and rugged in the steep bed of the mountain tor- 
 rents. She surprised herself longing to hear the 
 water rushing in those ravines, brilliant with the 
 foliage of autumn. 
 
 "Always to love!" she thought. 
 
 Ashamed of that phrase, which was thrown at her 
 as if by a voice, she urged her horse fearlessly to- 
 ward the first peak of La Correze, and persisted in
 
 200 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 her purpose despite the advice of her two guides. 
 She was alone when she reached the summit of that 
 spur, called the Roche-five, and she remained there 
 a few moments, looking at the landscape spread out 
 before her. After hearing the secret voice of so 
 many created things asking to be endowed with life, 
 she received a blow within which decided her to dis- 
 play in her work the perseverance which was so 
 much admired and of which she had given so many 
 proofs. She tied her horse to a tree by the rein and 
 sat down upon a boulder, letting her eyes wander 
 over that expanse where nature played the part of 
 cruel step-mother, and she felt in her heart the same 
 maternal yearnings she had felt before as she gazed 
 at her child. Prepared to receive the sublime in- 
 struction which that spectacle afforded, by the 
 almost involuntary meditations which, to use her 
 own beautiful expression, had winnowed her heart, 
 she roused herself as if from a lethargy. 
 
 "I understood then," she told the cure, " that 
 our souls must be ploughed, as well as the earth." 
 
 That vast landscape was lighted up by the pale 
 November sun. A few grayish clouds were scud- 
 ding from the west before a cold wind. It was about 
 three o'clock, it had taken Veronique four hours to 
 reach that point; but, like all those who are con- 
 sumed by a profound secret grief, she paid no heed 
 to external circumstances. At that moment, her 
 life was in very truth ennobled by the sublime spec- 
 tacle of nature. 
 
 "Do not stay here any longer, madame," said a
 
 FARRABESCHE TO MADAME GRASLIN 
 
 Madame Graslin saw below her a face almost 
 black with sunburn, pierced by tivo eyes which re- 
 sembled tongues of fire. On each side of that face 
 a great mass of brown hair hung down, and a fan- 
 shaped beard beneath. The man respectfully raised 
 one of the huge broad-brimmed hats worn by the 
 peasants in the centre of France.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 2OI 
 
 man whose voice made her start; " soon you will 
 not be able to return, for you are more than two 
 leagues from any house; the forest is impassable 
 after dark; but dangers of that sort are nothing 
 compared to the risk you run here; in a few mo- 
 ments it will be deathly cold on this peak; the 
 cause of the cold is unknown, but it has killed 
 several people." 
 
 Madame Graslin saw below her a face almost 
 black with sunburn, pierced by two eyes which 
 resembled tongues of fire. On each side of that 
 face a great mass of brown hair hung down, and a 
 fan-shaped beard beneath. The man respectfully 
 raised one of the huge broad-brimmed hats worn by 
 the peasants in the centre of France, and uncovered 
 one of those wasted but noble foreheads by which 
 paupers sometimes compel the attention of the public. 
 Veronique was not in the least terrified; she was in 
 one of those positions in which all those petty consid- 
 erations which make women fearful lose their power. 
 
 " How do you happen to be here?" she asked. 
 
 " I live only a short distance away," replied the 
 unknown. 
 
 " And what are you doing in this desert?" 
 
 " 1 live here." 
 
 " How, and on what?" 
 
 " 1 receive a small sum for looking after this part 
 of the forest," he said, pointing to the opposite slope 
 of the mountain to that which overlooked the plains 
 of Montegnac. 
 
 Madame Graslin spied the barrel of a gun and a
 
 202 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 game-bag. If she had been afraid, she would have 
 been reassured then. 
 
 " You are a keeper?" 
 
 " No, madame, in order to be a keeper, one must 
 be able to take the oath, and to take the oath, one 
 must enjoy the rights of a citizen." 
 
 " Who are you, then?" 
 
 " I amFarrabesche," said the man, with profound 
 humility, looking at the ground. 
 
 Madame Graslin, to whom that name meant 
 nothing, looked at the man and observed in his 
 excessively mild face signs of concealed ferocity; 
 the uneven teeth gave to the mouth, with its blood- 
 red lips, an expression of irony and reckless wicked- 
 ness; the brown, protruding cheek-bones had an 
 indefinable touch of animalism. He was of medium 
 height, had stout shoulders, a very short, thick 
 neck, the broad, hairy hands of men of violent 
 temper, who are quite capable of abusing their 
 advantages in the way of brute force. His last 
 words, too, indicated some mystery, to which his 
 manner, his face, and his figure imparted a terri- 
 fying significance. 
 
 "Are you in my service?" said Veronique, in a 
 mild voice. 
 
 " Have I the honor of speaking to Madame Gras- 
 lin?" asked Farrabesche. 
 
 "Yes, my friend." 
 
 Farrabesche disappeared as swiftly as a deer, after 
 bestowing a fearful glance on his mistress. Vero- 
 nique lost no time in mounting and returning to her
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 203 
 
 two servants, who were beginning to be anxious 
 about her, for everyone in that region knew of 
 the inexplicable unhealthfulness of the Roche-Vive. 
 Colorat urged his mistress to ride down through a 
 small valley that led to the plain. "It would be 
 dangerous," he said, "to return by the heights, 
 where the roads, which were indistinctly marked at 
 best, crossed and recrossed each other, and where 
 he might go astray, notwithstanding his acquaintance 
 with the country." 
 
 As soon as they were on the level ground, Vero- 
 nique slackened her horse's pace. 
 
 "Who is this Farrabesche whom you employ?" 
 she asked her head-keeper. 
 
 " Did madame fall in with him?" cried Colorat. 
 
 "Yes, but he ran away." 
 
 " Poor man! perhaps he doesn't know how kind 
 madame is." 
 
 "Why, what has he done?" 
 
 "Why, madame, Farrabesche is an assassin," 
 said Champion, artlessly. 
 
 " Then he was pardoned?" Veronique asked, in a 
 voice that trembled with emotion. 
 
 " No, madame," replied Colorat. "Farrabesche 
 was tried at the assizes and sentenced to ten years 
 penal servitude; he did half of his time, then he 
 was pardoned and came back from the galleys in 
 1827. He owes his life to monsieur le cure, who 
 induced him to give himself up. If he had been 
 sentenced to death by default, he would have been 
 captured sooner or later, and his prospects would
 
 204 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 have been bad. Monsieur Bonnet went after him 
 all alone, at the risk of being killed. Nobody knows 
 what he said to Farrabesche. They were alone 
 together two days; the third day he brought him 
 back to Tulle, where he gave himself up. Monsieur 
 Bonnet went to see a good lawyer and urged him to 
 take Farrabesche's case. Farrabesche got off with 
 ten years' imprisonment, and monsieur le cure went 
 to see him in prison. That fellow, who was once 
 the terror of the country, became as gentle as a 
 girl, and let them take him to the galleys without a 
 word. On his release, he came here to live, under 
 monsieur le cure's direction. No one ever speaks 
 more than his name aloud; he goes to mass and to 
 service Sundays and holidays. Although he has his 
 place among us, he always sits alone at the end of a 
 long wall. He attends communion from time to time; 
 but he keeps apart at the holy table, just the same." 
 
 "And that man killed another man?" 
 
 "One?" said Colorat; "he has killed several! 
 But he's a good man, all the same!" 
 
 " Is it possible?" cried Veronique, letting her reins 
 fall on the horse's neck, in her amazement. 
 
 "You see, madame," continued the keeper, who 
 asked nothing better than an opportunity to tell the 
 story, " Farrabesche may have been right, in princi- 
 ple. He was the last of the Farrabesches, an old 
 family of La Correze! His older brother, Captain 
 Farrabesche, died ten years before, in Italy, at 
 Montenotte, a captain at twenty -two. Wasn't that' 
 hard luck? And a man of talent, too; who knew
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 205 
 
 how to read and write, and gave promise of being a 
 general! The family felt it sorely, and they had reason 
 to, upon my word ! I was with the other in those 
 days and I heard of that death! Oh! Captain Farra- 
 besche died a noble death: he saved the army and 
 the Little Corporal! I was serving under General 
 Steingel, a German, an Alsatian, that is, a famous 
 general, but he was short-sighted, and that was the 
 cause of his death, which happened some time after 
 Captain Farrabesche's. The youngest little fellow, 
 the one we are talking about, was six years old when 
 he heard them talking about his older brother's death. 
 The second brother was in the service, too, but as 
 a private; he died a sergeant, first regiment of the 
 guard, a fine place, at the battle of Austerlitz, where 
 they went through the manoeuvres, you know, ma- 
 dame, just as peacefully as they do at the Tuileries. 
 I was there, too! Oh! I was lucky, I was in every- 
 thing without getting a wound. Well, our Farra- 
 besche, although he's a brave fellow, took it into his 
 head that he wouldn't go. In fact, it did seem as if 
 the army had a grudge against that family. When 
 the sub-prefect went after him, in 1811, he ran away 
 into the woods; a refractory, as they used to call 
 them. Then he joined a party of chauffeurs,* it may 
 have been willingly or by force, but he burned! You 
 understand that no one but monsieur le cure knows 
 what he did with those blackguards, saving your pres- 
 ence! He had many a fight with the gendarmes, 
 
 * Burners marauders who compelled their victims to disclose the hiding-place 
 of their treasure by burning the soles of their feet before the fire.
 
 206 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 and with the line too! In fact, he was in seven 
 skirmishes." 
 
 "He is supposed to have killed two soldiers and 
 three gendarmes!" said Champion. 
 
 " Does anyone know the count ? he has never 
 told," rejoined Colorat. " At last, madame, almost 
 all the others were taken ; but he, young and active 
 as he was, and knowing the country better, always 
 escaped. Those chauffeurs used to stay in the neigh- 
 borhood of Brives and Tulle; they used to beat about 
 here often, because it was so easy for Farrabesche to 
 hide them. In 1814, they paid no more attention to 
 him, for the conscription was abolished; but he had 
 to pass the winter of 1815 in the woods. As he had 
 nothing of his own to live on, he helped to stop the 
 mail-coach in the gorge yonder; but at last, accord- 
 ing to monsieur le cure's advice, he gave himself up. 
 It wasn't easy to find witnesses, for no one dared to 
 testify against him. His lawyer and the cure worked 
 so hard that they got him off with ten years. He 
 was lucky, after burning, for he did burn!" 
 
 " But what was this burning?" 
 
 " If you wish, madame, I'll tell you what they did, 
 as far as I have learned from one and another, for I 
 never did it, you understand! It isn't a pretty thing 
 to do, but necessity knows no law. Well, seven or 
 eight of them would break into a farmer's house, or 
 a land-owner's, who was supposed to have money 
 about him; they'd light a fire and eat their supper in 
 the middle of the night; then, between the fruit and 
 the cheese, if the master of the house refused to give
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 207 
 
 them the sum of money they demanded, they'd tie 
 his feet to the pot-hook and not untie them till they 
 got their money: and there you are. They were 
 always masked. Some of their expeditions didn't 
 turn out well. Dame! there are always some obsti- 
 nate people, some misers. One farmer, Pere Coche- 
 grue, who was so close he'd skin a flint, let his feet 
 burn! Faith, it killed him! Monsieur David's wife, 
 near Drives, died of the fright those people gave her, 
 just from seeing them tie up her husband's feet. 'Give 
 them what you have!' she said, when she was dying. 
 He wouldn't, so she pointed to the hiding-place. The 
 burners were the terror of the neighborhood for five 
 years; but get it well into your head pardon the 
 expression, madame that more than one son of a 
 good family belonged to them, and they weren't the 
 ones that let themselves be nabbed !" 
 
 Madame Graslin listened without replying. There 
 was a moment's silence. Young Champion, eager to 
 entertain his mistress, undertook to tell what he knew 
 of Farrabesche. 
 
 " We ought to tell madame everything there is to 
 tell about him. Farrabesche hasn't his equal at run- 
 ning or riding. He can kill an ox with his fist! He 
 can lift seven hundred! There's no better shot than 
 he is. When I was little, they used to tell me about 
 Farrabesche's adventures. One day he was taken by 
 surprise with three of his companions; they fought, I 
 tell you! two were wounded and the third killed. 
 Farrabesche thought he was taken; nonsense! he 
 leaps on a gendarme's horse, behind the man, lashes
 
 208 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the horse and urges him to a dead run and disappears 
 with his arms round the gendarme's body; he hugged 
 him so tight that, after awhile, he was able to throw 
 him on the ground, remain alone on the horse and 
 make his escape master of him! And he had the 
 face to go and sell him ten leagues beyond Limoges. 
 That time he remained in hiding three months, 
 not to be found. They had offered a reward of a 
 hundred louis to the man who should bring him in." 
 "Another time," added Colorat, "speaking of the 
 hundred louis the prefect of Tulle offered for him, he 
 helped a cousin of his, Giriex of Vizay, to earn them. 
 His cousin betrayed him and gave him up! Oh, yes! 
 he gave him up! The gendarmes were very happy 
 to take him to Tulle. But he didn't go far; they had 
 to lock him up in the jail at Lubersac, and he escaped 
 the first night, taking advantage of a hole made by 
 one of his accomplices, one Gabilleau, a deserter 
 from the seventeenth, who was transferred the night 
 before he intended to escape, and was afterward 
 executed at Tulle. Those adventures gave Farra- 
 besche a famous name. The gang had its trusty 
 friends, you understand ! Besides, people liked the 
 burners. Dame! those fellows weren't like the ones 
 we have to-day; everyone of the rascals spent his 
 money royally. Fancy, madame, one night Farra- 
 besche was chased by gendarmes, d'ye see; well, 
 that time he escaped by staying twenty -four hours 
 in the horse-pond on a farm; he breathed through a 
 straw that he poked up to the surface of the muck. 
 What was that little inconvenience to a man who
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 20Q 
 
 had passed whole nights on slender tree-tops, where 
 the sparrows can hardly cling, watching the soldiers 
 who were looking for him pass back and forth below? 
 Farrabesche was one of the five or six burners that 
 the law never could catch; but, as he belonged in 
 the province and was forced to join them, and as his 
 only reason for running away was to avoid the draft, 
 the women were on his side, and that's half the 
 battle!" 
 
 "So Farrabesche has certainly killed several 
 men?" said Madame Graslin again. 
 
 "He certainly has," replied Colorat; "indeed, 
 they say he killed the passenger in the mail-coach 
 in 1812; but the courier and postilion, the only ones 
 who could identify him, were dead at the time of his 
 trial." 
 
 " To rob him?" asked Madame Graslin. 
 
 " Oh! they took everything; but the twenty-five 
 thousand francs they found belonged to the govern- 
 ment." 
 
 Madame Graslin rode a league without speaking. 
 The sun had set, the moon was shining upon the 
 gray moor; it seemed as if it were the sea at high 
 tide. For a moment, Champion and Colorat looked 
 at Madame Graslin, whose silence made them anxious; 
 they were shocked to see on her cheeks two glisten- 
 ing lines, produced by much weeping; her eyes were 
 red and filled with tears, which fell drop by drop. 
 
 "Oh! don't waste your pity on him, madame!" 
 said Colorat. " The fellow has had a good time, 
 he's had pretty mistresses; and now, although the 
 14
 
 210 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 police are keeping an eye on him, he's protected by 
 monsieur le cure's esteem and friendship; for he has 
 repented, his conduct at the galleys was most ex- 
 emplary. Everyone knows that he's as honest as 
 the honestest man among us; only he's proud, he 
 doesn't want to run the risk of being slighted, and 
 he lives quietly, doing good in his way. He's laid 
 out a nursery of ten acres for you on the other 
 side of the Roche-Vive, and he plants trees in the 
 forest wherever he sees a chance for one to grow; 
 then he prunes the trees and picks up the dead 
 wood, makes it into bundles and keeps it to give to 
 the poor. All the poor people, sure of finding wood 
 all cut and ready for them, go and ask him for it in- 
 stead of taking it themselves and trespassing in your 
 forest, so that, if he warms chauffe people to-day, 
 he does it in the right way! Farrabesche is fond of 
 your forest, and takes care of it as if it was his own 
 property." 
 
 "And he lives! all alone?" cried Madame Gras- 
 lin, hastily adding the last two words. 
 
 " I beg pardon, madame; he takes care of a little 
 boy, who's close on fifteen," said Maurice Cham- 
 pion. 
 
 "Faith, yes," added Colorat, "for La Curieux 
 had the child some time before Farrabesche gave 
 himself up." 
 
 " Is it his son?" asked Madame Graslin. 
 
 " Why, everyone thinks so." 
 
 " Why didn't he marry this girl?" 
 
 "How could he? they would have caught him!
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 211 
 
 When La Curieux learned that he was convicted, 
 she left the neighborhood." 
 
 "Was she pretty?" 
 
 "Oh!" said Maurice, " my mother declares that 
 she looked ever so much like let me see another 
 girl who's left the country, too, Denise Tascheron." 
 
 " Did she love him?" inquired Madame Graslin. 
 
 " Oh! just because he was a chauffeur!" replied 
 Colorat; " women love anything out of the common. 
 However, nothing ever astonished the neighborhood 
 more than that love-affair. Catherine Curieux was 
 as virtuous as the Blessed Virgin, she was consid- 
 ered a pearl of virtue in her village, Vizay, a fortified 
 village of La Correze, on the line between the two 
 departments. Her father and mother are farmers 
 for Messieurs Brezac. Catherine Curieux was about 
 seventeen at the time of Farrabesche's trial. The 
 Farrabesches were an old family of the same prov- 
 ince, who had settled on the Montegnac estate and 
 kept the village farm. Farrabesche's father and 
 mother are dead, but La Curieux has three married 
 sisters, one at Aubusson, one at Limoges, one at 
 Saint-Leonard." 
 
 "Do you think that Farrabesche knows where 
 Catherine is?" said Madame Graslin. 
 
 "If he knew, he would break his parole; oh! he 
 would go to her. On his return, he sent Monsieur 
 Bonnet to her father and mother to ask for the little 
 boy; they were bringing him up, but Monsieur 
 Bonnet got him. " 
 
 " Does no one know what has become of her?"
 
 212 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " Oh! the girl thought she was ruined; she was 
 afraid to remain in the neighborhood ! she went to 
 Paris. And what is she doing there? That's the 
 question. To look for her there is like trying to find 
 a marble among the stones of this plain." 
 
 As he spoke, Colorat pointed to the plain of Mon- 
 tegnac from the slope up which Madame Graslin 
 was then riding, within a few steps of the entrance 
 to the chateau. La Sauviat, Aline, and the servants 
 were waiting anxiously there, not knowing what to 
 think of such a prolonged absence. 
 
 "Well," said La Sauviat, assisting her daughter 
 to dismount, " you must be horribly tired." 
 
 " No, mother," said Madame Graslin, in such an 
 altered voice that La Sauviat looked at her daughter 
 and saw that she had been weeping bitterly. 
 
 Madame Graslin went to her own room with 
 Aline, who had her orders for everything connected 
 with her life within the chateau; she shut herself in 
 her room, refusing admission to her mother, and 
 when the old Auvergnat insisted upon entering, 
 Aline said to her: 
 
 "Madame is asleep." 
 
 The next morning Veronique set out on horseback, 
 attended only by Maurice. In order to reach the 
 Roche-Vive as speedily as possible, she took the path 
 by which she had returned the night before. As 
 they rode through the gorge separating that peak 
 from the last hill of the forest, for, as seen from 
 the plain, the Roche-Vive seemed to stand alone, 
 Veronique told Maurice to point out Farrabesche's
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 213 
 
 house to her and to wait for her with the horses; 
 she wished to go alone. Maurice guided her, there- 
 fore, to a path leading down the slope of the 
 Roche-Wve, opposite the plain, and pointed to the 
 thatch-covered roof of a dwelling half-hidden in 
 the mountain, with nurseries immediately below it. 
 It was then about noon. A faint line of smoke that 
 rose from the chimney indicated the location of the 
 house at which Veronique soon arrived; but she did 
 not show herself at first. At sight of that modest 
 abode, situated in the middle of a garden surrounded 
 by a hedge of dry brambles, she remained for some 
 moments lost in thoughts which were known only to 
 her. Below the garden was a field of several acres, 
 of irregular shape, with here and there the spread- 
 ing tops of apple, pear, and plum trees, the whole en- 
 closed by a quickset hedge. Above the house, toward 
 the top of the mountain, where the soil was sandy, 
 rose the yellowed heads of a grove of superb chest- 
 nuts. On opening the open-work gate, made of 
 boards that were almost rotten, that admitted to the 
 enclosure, Madame Graslin saw a cow-shed, a small 
 barnyard, and all the picturesque living accessories 
 of the dwellings of the poor, which certainly have a 
 poetic charm in the country. What human being can 
 look unmoved upon the linen spread upon the hedge, 
 the bunch of onions hanging from the ceiling, the iron 
 kettles drying, the wooden bench with its arbor of 
 honeysuckle, and the leeks upon the thatched roof, 
 which are a part of almost every hovel in France, and 
 disclose an humble, almost vegetative manner of life!
 
 214 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 It was impossible for Veronique to approach her 
 keeper's house unperceived, for two fine hunting- 
 dogs gave tongue as soon as they heard the rustling 
 of her habit among the dry leaves; she took the 
 ample skirt over her arm and walked toward the 
 house. Farrabesche and his child, who were sitting 
 on a wooden bench outside the house, rose and re- 
 moved their hats, assuming a respectful attitude, but 
 without the slightest trace of servility. 
 
 " I have been told," said Veronique, looking atten- 
 tively at the child, "that you have my interests at 
 heart: I wished to see for myself your house and the 
 nurseries, and to question you on the spot as to the 
 improvements it would be well to make." 
 
 " I am at madame's orders," Farrabesche replied. 
 
 Veronique was pleased with the appearance of 
 the child, who had a charming face, slightly sun- 
 burned, dark, but very regular, a perfect oval in 
 shape, with a brow of the purest outline, orange- 
 hued eyes of extreme vivacity, brown hair cut short 
 in front and long on each side of the face. He was 
 taller than most children of that age, being nearly 
 five feet. His trousers and shirt were of coarse 
 brown holland; his waistcoat, of threadbare blue 
 cloth, had horn buttons; he wore a jacket of the 
 cloth jocosely known as Maurienne velvet, which 
 Savoyards wear, heavy, hob-nailed shoes and no 
 stockings. His costume was exactly the same as 
 his father's, except that Farrabesche had on his 
 head a broad-brimmed peasant's felt hat, and the 
 little fellow a brown woollen cap. The child's face,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 21 5 
 
 although bright and animated, maintained without 
 effort the gravity peculiar to those who live in soli- 
 tude; he had been compelled to bring himself into 
 harmony with the silent life of the woods. Thus 
 Farrabesche and his son had developed especially 
 on the physical side, they possessed the remark- 
 able physical faculties of savages: keen sight, the 
 habit of constant attention, great self-control, sure 
 hearing, visible activity, intelligent dexterity. In 
 the first glance that the child bestowed upon his 
 father, Madame Graslin divined one of those attach- 
 ments without bounds, in which the instinct is 
 tempered by the mind, and in which the most 
 militant happiness confirms both the impulse of the 
 instinct and the scrutiny of the mind. 
 
 " Is that the child of whom I have heard?" said 
 Veronique, pointing to the boy. 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "Have you taken no steps to find the mother?" 
 she asked Farrabesche, leading him a few steps 
 apart by a gesture. 
 
 " Doubtless madame does not know that I am 
 forbidden to leave the commune in which I re- 
 side." 
 
 "And have you never had news of her?" 
 
 "At the expiration of my time," he replied, 
 "the commissioner handed me a thousand francs 
 which had been sent to me in small portions, every 
 three months, and which the rules did not permit 
 me to have until the day of my discharge. I have 
 thought that no one but Catherine could have
 
 216 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 thought of me, as it wasn't Monsieur Bonnet; so I 
 have kept the money for Benjamin." 
 
 "And Catherine's parents?" 
 
 " They have thought no more about her since 
 she went away. Indeed, they did enough in taking 
 care of the little one." 
 
 " Well, Farrabesche," said Veronique, turning to- 
 ward the house, " I will try to ascertain if Catherine 
 is still alive, where she is, and what sort of life she 
 is leading." 
 
 " Oh! whatever it is, madame," cried the man, 
 tenderly, " I shall consider it great good fortune to 
 have her for my wife. It is for her to make objec- 
 tions, not for me. Our marriage would legitimize 
 this poor boy, who does not as yet suspect his 
 position." 
 
 The look that the father bestowed upon the son 
 described the whole life of those two beings, aban- 
 doned, or, if you please, voluntarily isolated: they 
 were all in all to each other, like two fellow-country- 
 men in the midst of a desert. 
 
 " So you love Catherine?" asked Veronique. 
 
 " If I did not love her, madame," was his re- 
 ply, " in my position she is the only woman in the. 
 world to me." 
 
 Madame Graslin turned quickly and walked to the 
 grove of chestnuts, as if attacked by a sharp pain. 
 The keeper believed that her action was guided by 
 caprice and dared not follow her. Veronique stood 
 there for about a quarter of an hour, apparently gaz- 
 ing at the view. She had before her all that part
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 217 
 
 of the forest that covers the side of the valley 
 where the mountain torrent rushes down, at this 
 time without water, filled with stones and resem- 
 bling an immense moat, confined between the wooded 
 mountains of Montegnac and another parallel chain 
 of hills, very steep, bare of vegetation except for a 
 few intrusive trees along their summits. That other 
 chain, with its sparse birches, juniper-bushes, and 
 furze-broom of desolate aspect, belongs to an adja- 
 cent commune in the department of La Correze. A 
 country road, which follows the inequalities of the val- 
 ley, serves as a boundary line for the arrondissement 
 of Montegnac and the two estates. That unfertile 
 side of the mountain, with a northern exposure, is 
 bordered, as by an enclosing wall, by a fine piece of 
 woodland which extends over the other slope of that 
 long ridge, whose barrenness is in striking contrast 
 to that upon which Farrabesche's house is located. 
 On one side, angular, twisted shapes; on the other, 
 graceful shapes, swaying with a stately motion; on 
 the one side, the repellent, silent immobility of in- 
 ferior soil, maintained by horizontal blocks of stone, 
 by bare, denuded cliffs; on the other, trees of vary- 
 ing shades of green, at that season bare of foliage 
 for the most part, but with straight, shapely trunks 
 of divers hues, springing from every fold of the soil, 
 their branches waving gracefully at the pleasure of 
 the wind. A few trees more persistent than the 
 others, oaks, elms, beeches, and chestnuts, were still 
 clothed in yellow, brown, or violet-colored leaves. 
 Toward Montegnac, where the valley widens out
 
 218 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 tremendously, the two slopes form an immense 
 horseshoe, and, from the spot where Veronique 
 stood, leaning against a tree, she could see valleys 
 arranged like the benches of an amphitheatre, where 
 the tree-tops rise in rows above one another like 
 rows of spectators. That lovely landscape formed 
 the reverse side of her park, in which it was after- 
 ward included. In the direction of Farrabesche's 
 hut, the valley narrowed more and more, and ended 
 in a gorge about a hundred feet wide. 
 
 The beauty of that view, over which Madame 
 Graslin's eyes wandered mechanically, soon recalled 
 her to herself; she returned toward the house, where 
 the father and son were still standing silently, not 
 attempting to explain their mistress's strange absence. 
 She examined the house, which was built with more 
 care than the thatch roof would lead one to suppose, 
 but had been untenanted since the Navarreins had 
 ceased to take any interest in the estate. With the 
 cessation of hunting, the necessity for keepers came 
 to an end. Although the house was unoccupied for 
 more than a hundred years, the walls were sound; 
 but the ivy and other climbing plants had enveloped 
 it on all sides. When he had obtained leave to take 
 up his abode there, Farrabesche had covered the roof 
 with thatch, had floored the interior with flagstones 
 with his own hand, and had furnished it himself. 
 Veronique, as she entered, saw two peasants' beds, 
 a tall walnut wardrobe, a bread cupboard, a buffet, a 
 table, three chairs, a few brown earthenware dishes 
 on the buffet, and such utensils as were absolutely
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 2IQ 
 
 necessary. Over the fireplace were two rifles and 
 two game-bags. A number of things made by the 
 father for the child caused Veronique the deepest 
 emotion: a man-of-war, a shallop, a carved wooden 
 cup, a wooden box of magnificent workmanship, a box 
 inlaid with straw, and a beautiful crucifix and rosary. 
 The rosary was made of plum-stones, with a face of 
 exquisite delicacy upon each one: Jesus Christ, the 
 Apostles, the Madonna, Saint John the Baptist, Saint 
 Joseph, Saint Anne, and the two Magdalens. 
 
 " I do that to amuse the little fellow in the long 
 winter evenings," he said, apologetically. 
 
 In front of the house jasmine and rose-bushes were 
 trained against the wall and framed in blossoms the 
 windows of the first floor, which was occupied only 
 as a place of storage for provisions; he had hens, 
 ducks, two pigs; he bought only bread, salt, sugar, 
 and a few other groceries. Neither he nor his son 
 drank wine. 
 
 "All that I have been told about you, and what I 
 see here," said Madame Graslin to Farrabesche at 
 last, "leads me to take an interest in you which 
 will not fail to bear fruit." 
 
 " I recognize Monsieur Bonnet's hand in this!" 
 cried Farrabesche, in a melting tone. 
 
 "You are wrong; monsieur le cure has told me 
 nothing; chance, or God, perhaps, has done it all." 
 
 "Yes, madame, God 1 God alone can perform 
 miracles for an unhappy wretch like me." 
 
 " If you have been unhappy," said Madame Gras- 
 lin, in so low a tone that the child could not hear,
 
 220 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 displaying therein womanly delicacy which touched 
 Farrabesche, " your repentance, your conduct, and 
 monsieur le cure's esteem make you worthy to be 
 happy. I have given the necessary orders for com- 
 pleting the large farm buildings that Monsieur Gras- 
 lin had planned to erect near the chateau; you shall 
 be my farmer, you shall have an opportunity to ex- 
 ert your strength, your activity, and to employ your 
 son. The procureur-general at Limoges will learn 
 who you are, and the humiliating condition of your 
 parole, which hampers your life, will disappear, I 
 promise you." 
 
 At these words, Farrabesche fell upon his knees as 
 if overwhelmed by the realization of a vainly cher- 
 ished hope; he kissed the hem of Madame Graslin's 
 riding-habit, he kissed her feet. Benjamin, seeing 
 tears in his father's eyes, began to sob without 
 knowing why. 
 
 " Rise, Farrabesche," said Madame Graslin, " you 
 do not know how natural it is that I should do for 
 you what I promise to do. Did not you plant those 
 evergreens?" she said, pointing to clumps of fir- 
 trees, Northern pines, and larches at the foot of the 
 dry and barren hill opposite. 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "Then the soil is better there?" 
 
 " The water is constantly undermining those rocks 
 and bringing a little light soil over to your land; I 
 have made the most of it, for, all along the valley, 
 everything bdow the road belongs to you. The 
 road serves as a boundary line."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 221 
 
 " Does much water flow down through this long 
 valley?" 
 
 " Oh! madame," cried Farrabesche, " in a few 
 days, when the rainy weather comes, you may be 
 able to hear the roaring of the stream at the chateau! 
 but it will be nothing compared to what happens 
 when the snow is melting. The water rushes down 
 from those parts of the forest that are on the oppo- 
 site side of the mountain from Montegnac, those 
 long, steep, sloping walls of the mountain on which 
 your gardens are and the park; in fact, all the 
 streams from these hills flow into it and form a 
 deluge. Luckily for you, the trees hold back the 
 earth, the water rolls off the leaves, which are like 
 an oil-cloth carpet in autumn; if it weren't for that, 
 the soil would be washed down into the bottom of 
 the valley, but the pitch is very steep, and I don't 
 know if the earth would hold under a severe strain." 
 
 "Where does the water go?" asked Madame 
 Graslin, deeply interested. 
 
 Farrabesche pointed to the narrow gorge which 
 seemed to close the valley below his house. 
 
 " It spreads out over a chalky plateau that sepa- 
 rates the Limousin from La Correze, and remains 
 there in green patches several months; it sinks into 
 the pores of the soil but very slowly. So no one 
 lives in that unhealthy plain, where nothing will 
 grow. No cattle can eat the reeds and rushes that 
 grow in the brackish water. That great moor, 
 which is something like three thousand acres in 
 extent, is used as common land by three communes;
 
 222 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 but it's just the same as it is with the plain of Mon- 
 tegnac, nothing can be done with it. Even on your 
 territory there is sand and a little soil among your 
 rocks; but there it's pure tufa." 
 
 " Send for the horses, I want to go and see it all 
 for myself." 
 
 Benjamin started off, after Madame Graslin had 
 pointed out the place where Maurice was waiting. 
 
 "I am told that you are familiar with all, even 
 the most trifling peculiarities of this region," con- 
 tinued Madame Graslin; " will you explain why it is 
 that the wooded slopes of the mountain on the side 
 of the plain of Montegnac send down no streams at 
 all, not even the slightest thread of water, in the 
 rainy season or during the melting of the snow?" 
 
 "Ah! madame," replied Farrabesche, "monsieur 
 le cure, who is so interested in the prosperity of 
 Montegnac, guessed at the explanation, although he 
 had not the proof. Since your arrival, he has told 
 me to raise the beds of the streams here and there 
 in every ravine and all the valleys. I had just re- 
 turned yesterday from the foot of the Roche-Vive, 
 where I had been examining the formation of the 
 land, when I had the honor of meeting you. I heard 
 the horses' steps and was anxious to know 'who was 
 riding hereabout. Monsieur Bonnet is not merely 
 a saint, madame, he's a scientific man. ' Farra- 
 besche,' he said to me, I was working then on the 
 road up to the chateau that the commune fin- 
 ished; and from there monsieur le cure pointed to 
 the whole chain of hills from Montegnac to the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 223 
 
 Roche-Vive, nearly two leagues long, ' Farrabesche, 
 as that slope doesn't shed any water into the plain, 
 nature must have made a gutter that carries it some- 
 where else!' Well, madame, that is such a simple 
 idea that it seems foolish; a child could think of it! 
 But since Montegnac has been Montegnac, not a soul, 
 neither owners, nor stewards, nor keepers, nor rich, 
 nor poor, all of whom alike saw that the plain was 
 barren for lack of water, ever asked themselves 
 where the waters of the Gabou go. The three com- 
 munes that are infested with fever on account of 
 stagnant water never tried to find a remedy, and I 
 myself never thought about it; it needed the man 
 of'God." 
 
 Farrabesche's eyes were moist as he said the last 
 words. 
 
 "Whatever men of genius discover," said Ma- 
 dame Graslin, "is so simple that everyone thinks he 
 could have discovered it. But," she said to herself, 
 "there is this noble peculiarity in genius, that it 
 resembles everybody, and nobody resembles it." 
 
 " I understood Monsieur Bonnet at once," con- 
 tinued Farrabesche; "he didn't have to say much 
 to me to explain my task. The fact is all the 
 stranger, madame, because, on the side of your 
 plain, for every inch of it belongs to you, there 
 are fissures of considerable depth in the mountains, 
 which are cut by ravines and by very deep gorges; 
 but, madame, all these clefts, valleys, ravines, 
 gorges, trenches, down which the water flows, 
 empty into a little valley which is a few feet lower
 
 224 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 than the level of your plain. To-day I know the 
 explanation of that phenomenon, and this is it: all 
 along the base of the mountains, from the Roche- 
 Vive to Montegnac, there is a sort of bank varying 
 from twenty to thirty feet in height; it is a kind 
 of rock that Monsieur Bonnet calls schist, and there 
 isn't a break in it anywhere. The earth, being 
 softer than the stone, has yielded and become hol- 
 lowed out, so that the streams have naturally turned 
 aside into the Gabou, through the clefts in each of 
 the small valleys. The trees, the shrubs, the un- 
 derbrush hide that disposition of the ground from 
 sight; but, after following their direction and the 
 marks they leave behind them, it is easy enough 
 to convince yourself of the fact. So the Gabou re- 
 ceives the water from both slopes, that of the moun- 
 tains, at the top of which your park lies, and that 
 of the cliffs opposite us. According to monsieur le 
 cure's idea, that state of things will cease when the 
 natural conduits of the slope that overlooks your 
 plain are dammed up by the stone and earth that 
 the water carries down with it, and are made higher 
 than the bed of the Gabou. Then your plain will be 
 flooded like the common lands you wish to go and 
 see; but it will take hundreds of years. And is it 
 desirable after all, madame? If your soil should re- 
 fuse to absorb that mass of water, as these common 
 lands refuse, Montegnac also would have its stagnant 
 pools which would poison the whole neighborhood." 
 " If I understand you, the places monsieur le 
 cure pointed out to me a few days ago, lines of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 225 
 
 trees on which the leaves are still green, are the 
 natural conduits through which the streams flow 
 down into the Gabou?" 
 
 "Yes, madame. Between the Roche-Vive and 
 Montegnac, there are three mountains, consequently 
 three valleys through which the streams, turned 
 back by the wall of schist, flow into the Gabou. 
 The belt of green woods at the base, which seems 
 to be a part of your plain, indicates the location of 
 the gutter which monsieur le cure divined." 
 
 " In that case, the thing that is now Montegnac's 
 bane will become its blessing," said Madame Graslin 
 in a tone of profound conviction. "And as you have 
 been the first instrument of this work, you shall take 
 part in it, you shall seek out active, devoted work- 
 men, for the lack of money must be made good by 
 devotion and hard work." 
 
 Benjamin and Maurice arrived as Veronique fin- 
 ished that sentence; she grasped her horse's rein 
 and motioned to Farrabesche to mount Maurice's 
 horse. 
 
 "Take me," she said, "to the point where the 
 waters spread out over the common lands." 
 
 "It is the more advisable for madame to go 
 there," said Farrabesche, "because, by monsieur 
 le cure's advice, the late Monsieur Graslin bought 
 about three hundred acres at the outlet of that 
 gorge, and there the water leaves a deposit which 
 has ended by producing rich soil over a considerable 
 space. Madame will see the other side of the Roche- 
 Vixe, where there are some fine woods, and where 
 15
 
 226 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Monsieur Graslin would undoubtedly have built a 
 farm-house. The most suitable spot would be where 
 you lose sight of the stream that runs near my 
 house a stream that you could use to advantage." 
 Farrabesche rode first to show the way, and led 
 Veronique down a steep path to the spot where the 
 two hills came close together, then diverged, one to 
 the east, the other to the west, as if driven asunder 
 by a shock. The narrow gully between, piled high 
 with stones, among which tall weeds grew, was about 
 sixty feet wide. The Roche-Vive showed a perpen- 
 dicular wall of granite, upon which there were 
 absolutely no loose stones, but the summit of that 
 impregnable wall was crowned with trees, the roots 
 of which hung over the edge. Pines clung to the 
 soil with their forked feet and seemed to hold them- 
 selves there like birds clinging to a branch. The 
 opposite hill, hollowed out by time, had a lofty, yel- 
 low, sandy brow; there were caverns of little depth 
 and uncertain hollows; the soft, crumbling rock 
 was of the color of yellow ochre. A few plants 
 with prickly leaves, and at the base some burdocks, 
 rushes, and aquatic plants indicated the northern ex- 
 posure and the thinness of the soil. The bed of the 
 mountain stream was of hard, yellow stone. Evi- 
 dently the two chains, although they were parallel 
 and seemed to have been split apart at the time of the 
 catastrophe that changed the face of the globe, were, 
 by an inexplicable freak of nature, or for some un- 
 known reason, to be discovered by no one but a 
 genius, composed of entirely dissimilar elements.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 227 
 
 The contrast between the two was particularly strik- 
 ing at that point. From there, Veronique saw an 
 immense dry plateau, bare of vegetation, and with a 
 chalky soil, which explained the absorption of the 
 water, dotted with patches of brackish water and 
 with spots where the soil had scaled from the rock. 
 At her right, were the mountains of La Correze. 
 At the left, the view was bounded by the great 
 hump of the Roche-Vive, covered with the most 
 beautiful trees, and at its foot a level field of about 
 two hundred acres, where the vegetation was in 
 striking contrast to the dismal aspect of that deso- 
 late plateau. 
 
 "My son and I," said Farrabesche, "dug the 
 ditch you see down yonder, marked by the tall 
 grass; it joins the one that marks the boundary 
 of your forest. On this side, your estate is 
 bounded by a desert, for the nearest village is a 
 league away." 
 
 Veronique rode swiftly to that desolate plain, 
 followed by her keeper. She leaped the ditch, 
 galloped about the forbidding tract, and seemed 
 to take a sort of savage delight in contemplating 
 that vast image of desolation. Farrabesche was 
 right. No force, no power could produce anything 
 from that land; it rang under the horses' hoofs 
 as if it were hollow. Although that effect was 
 produced by the chalk, which is by nature very 
 porous, there were fissures, too, in which the water 
 vanished from sight, on its way, doubtless, to feed 
 distant springs.
 
 228 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "There are some hearts like that!" cried Vero- 
 nique, drawing rein after galloping for a quarter of 
 an hour. 
 
 She sat on her horse, lost in thought, in the midst 
 of that desert, where there were neither animals 
 nor insects, and which no birds flew across. In the 
 plain of Montegnac, there were at least loose stones 
 and sand, some little light or clayey soil, a crust 
 of a few inches in which roots could take hold; 
 but the tufa, a most unnutritious substance, which 
 had ceased to be earth and had not yet become 
 stone, roughly intercepted the glance; so that there 
 one had absolutely no choice but to turn his eyes 
 upon the boundless expanse of sky. Having in- 
 spected the limit of her forests and the field pur- 
 chased by Monsieur Graslin, Veronique rode slowly 
 back toward the point where the Gabou entered the 
 plain. She surprised Farrabesche looking at a sort 
 of ditch which might have led one to suppose that 
 some speculator had tried to probe that desolate 
 corner of the earth, imagining that nature concealed 
 treasure there. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Veronique, as she 
 detected a profoundly sad expression upon that 
 manly face. 
 
 " Madame, I owe my life to that ditch, or, to speak 
 more truly, I owe to it the time to repent and to atone 
 for my sins in men's eyes." 
 
 That method of defining life resulted in nailing 
 Madame Graslin beside the ditch, where she stopped 
 her horse.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 22Q 
 
 " I hid there, madame. The ground is so reso- 
 nant, that, by putting my ear to it, I could hear, more 
 than a league away, the gendarmes' horses or the 
 step of soldiers, which has a peculiar quality. I used 
 to escape by the Gabou to a place where I had a 
 horse, and 1 always kept five or six leagues between 
 me and those who were hunting me. Catherine 
 would bring me food there during the night; if she 
 didn't meet me, I always found bread and wine there 
 in a hole covered with a stone." 
 
 That reminiscence of his wandering, criminal life, 
 which might have had a bad effect upon Farrabesche, 
 aroused the most indulgent compassion in Madame 
 Graslin; but she rode quickly toward the Gabou, 
 whither the keeper followed her. While she was 
 measuring with her eye the opening, through which 
 the long valley could be seen, so bright and joyous 
 on the one side, so desolate on the other, and in the 
 background, more than a league away, the terraced 
 hills beyond Montegnac, Farrabesche said: 
 
 " In a few days, there will be some fine waterfalls 
 there!" 
 
 "And next year, at the same time, not a drop of 
 water shall pass this way. I own the land on both 
 sides, I will build a wall high enough and strong 
 enough to hold back the water. Instead of a valley 
 which produces no income, I will have a lake, twenty, 
 thirty, forty, or fifty feet deep, a square league in 
 area, an immense reservoir which will furnish water 
 for the irrigating canals with which I will fertilize the 
 whole plain of Montegnac."
 
 230 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " Monsieur le cure was right, madame, when he 
 said to us while we were finishing our road: ' You 
 are working for your mother.' May God bestow 
 his blessing on such an undertaking !" 
 
 " Say nothing about it, Farrabesche," said Madame 
 Graslin; "it is Monsieur Bonnet's idea." 
 
 Returning to Farrabesche's house, Veronique took 
 Maurice and rode back at once to the .chateau. When 
 her mother and Aline saw her, they were impressed 
 by the change in her countenance, for the hope of 
 conferring a lasting benefit upon that neighborhood 
 had restored the appearance of happiness. Madame 
 Graslin wrote to Grossete'te to ask Monsieur de 
 Granville to remove all restrictions from the liberty 
 of the poor pardoned convict, furnishing information 
 as to his conduct which was confirmed by a certifi- 
 cate from the mayor of Montegnac and a letter from 
 Monsieur Bonnet. She added to the letter some 
 facts concerning Catherine Curieux, urging Grosse- 
 tete to arouse the procureur-general's interest in 
 the good action she contemplated, and induce him to 
 write to the prefecture of police at Paris in order to 
 find the girl. The mere circumstance of the remit- 
 tance of funds to the galleys where Farrabesche had 
 undergone his punishment should furnish a sufficient 
 clue. Veronique was very desirous to know why 
 Catherine had failed to join her son and Farrabesche. 
 Then she told her old friend of her discoveries by 
 the Gabou, and insisted that he should select for her 
 the skilful man for whom she had already asked 
 him.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 231 
 
 The next day was Sunday, the first day since her 
 installation at Montegnac that Veronique had been 
 in a condition to hear mass at the church; she went 
 there and took possession of the bench that she 
 owned in the chapel of the Virgin. When she saw 
 how bare that poor church was, she promised herself 
 that she would set aside a certain sum each year for the 
 necessary repairs and for decorating the altars. She 
 listened to the sweet, fervid, angelic voice of the cure, 
 whose sermon, although his words were simple and 
 within the intellectual scope of his hearers, was truly 
 sublime. The sublime comes from the heart, the mind 
 does not find it, and religion is an inexhaustible source 
 of that sublimity which is free from false glitter; for 
 Catholicism, which penetrates and changes hearts, 
 is all heart. Monsieur Bonnet found in the epistle 
 for the day a text to enlarge upon, to the effect that 
 God, sooner or later, fulfils His promises, blesses His 
 people, and encourages the good. He dwelt upon the 
 great benefits that would accrue to the parish from 
 the presence of a rich and charitable woman, ex- 
 plaining that the duties of the poor to a benevolent, 
 wealthy person were as extensive as those of the 
 rich to the poor, that they should mutually assist 
 each other. 
 
 Farrabesche had spoken to some of those persons 
 who were friendly to him, as a result of the Chris- 
 tian charity which Monsieur Bonnet had inculcated 
 in the parish, of the generous treatment of which he 
 was the object. Madame Graslin's behavior toward 
 him was the subject of conversation of the whole
 
 232 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 commune, assembled on the church square before 
 mass, as the custom is in the country. Nothing 
 could have been better adapted to win for her the 
 friendship of those eminently sensitive minds. And 
 so, when Veronique came from the church, she 
 found almost the whole parish drawn up in two 
 lines. As she passed, everyone saluted her respect- 
 fully, amid a profound silence. She was touched by 
 that welcome, but she had no idea of the real cause; 
 she saw Farrabesche among the last, and said to 
 him: 
 
 " You are an expert hunter, do not forget to bring 
 us some game." 
 
 A few days later, Veronique walked with the cure 
 in that part of the forest that was nearest the 
 chateau, and suggested descending by the terraced 
 valleys she had seen from Farrabesche's house. 
 She then became absolutely certain of the location 
 of the higher affluents of the Gabou. As a result 
 of that examination, the cure noticed that the 
 streams that watered some parts of upper Mon- 
 tegnac came from the mountains of La Correze. 
 That chain was connected with the mountain at that 
 point by the sterile ridge parallel to the chain of the 
 Roclie-Vwe. The cure manifested a childish joy on 
 returning from that walk; with the ingenuous pleas- 
 ure of a poet he looked forward to the prosperity of 
 his dear village. Is not the poet the man who real- 
 izes his hopes beforehand? Monsieur Bonnet felt as 
 if he were already mowing his hay, as he pointed 
 from the terrace to the barren plain.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 233 
 
 The next day, Farrabesche and his son returned 
 laden with game. The keeper brought for Francis 
 Graslin a cup carved from a cocoanut, a veritable 
 masterpiece, representing a battle. At that moment, 
 Madame Graslin was walking on the terrace, on 
 the side overlooking Les Tascherons. She sat down 
 upon a bench, took the cup, and gazed a long while 
 at that marvellous piece of work. Tears came to 
 her eyes. 
 
 "You must have suffered much," she said to 
 Farrabesche, after a long moment's silence. 
 
 "What is a man to do, madame," he replied, 
 " when he finds himself in that place without the 
 idea of flight, which sustains the courage of almost 
 all convicts?" 
 
 "It is a horrible life!" she said, in a compas- 
 sionate tone, inviting Farrabesche to speak, with 
 gesture and glance alike. 
 
 Farrabesche mistook for intense and sympathetic 
 curiosity the convulsive trembling and all the evi- 
 dences of emotion which he noticed in Madame 
 Graslin. At that moment, La Sauviat appeared 
 in one of the paths and seemed inclined to join 
 them; but Veronique drew her handkerchief, shook 
 her head, and said, with an animation she had never 
 before shown with the old Auvergnat: 
 
 " Leave me, mother!" 
 
 " Madame," said Farrabesche, pointing to his leg, 
 " for five years I wore a chain fastened to my leg by 
 a great iron ring, and binding me to another man. 
 During my time, I was compelled to live with three
 
 234 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 different convicts. I slept on a wooden camp-bed. 
 I had to do an extraordinary amount of work to 
 procure a small mattress, called a serpentin. Each 
 room contains eight hundred men. Each of the beds, 
 called tolards, holds twenty -four men, chained two 
 by two. Every night and every morning the chain 
 of each couple is attached to a large chain, called 
 the filet de ramas. That chain runs along the foot of 
 the bed and holds all the couples by the feet. Even 
 after two years, I wasn't accustomed to the clanking 
 of that iron, which says to you every moment: ' You 
 are at the galleys!' If you go to sleep for a moment, 
 some evil-minded comrade moves or quarrels, and 
 reminds you where you are. One has to serve an 
 apprenticeship simply to learn to sleep. In fact, I 
 could not sleep until excessive fatigue exhausted my 
 strength. When I was able to sleep, I had the 
 nights, at least, to forget my surroundings. In that 
 place, madame, forgetfulness is something ! Once 
 there, a man must learn to satisfy his needs, even in 
 the merest trifles, in the manner fixed by pitiless 
 regulations. Imagine, madame, what effect that life 
 produced upon a young man like me, who had lived 
 in the woods, after the manner of kids and birds! If 
 I had not eaten my bread for six months between 
 the four walls of a jail, ah! madame, notwithstand- 
 ing Monsieur Bonnet's touching words, and I may 
 say that he was the father of my soul, I should 
 have thrown myself into the sea when I saw my 
 companions! In the open air, I was all right; but, 
 once in that room, whether to sleep or to eat, for we
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 235 
 
 ate there at troughs, each trough prepared for three 
 couples, I ceased to live; the fiendish faces and the 
 language of my companions were always unendura- 
 ble to me. Luckily, at five o'clock in the morning 
 in summer, and at half-past seven in winter, hot or 
 cold, wind or rain, we went out to the fatigue, that 
 is to say, to work. The greater part of that life is 
 passed in the open air, and the air seems very good 
 when you leave a room in which eight hundred 
 convicts swarm. That air, remember, is sea air! 
 You enjoy the sea breezes, you are on good terms 
 with the sun, you take deep interest in the clouds 
 that pass overhead, you hope that the day will be 
 fine. For my part, I was interested in my work." 
 
 Farrabesche paused; two great tears were rolling 
 down Veronique's cheek. 
 
 "Ah! madame, I have told you only of the roses 
 of that existence!" he cried, taking Madame Gras- 
 lin's expression to his own charge. " The terrible 
 precautions adopted by the government, the constant 
 inquisition practised by the guards, the inspection of 
 the irons night and morning, the coarse food, the 
 hideous clothes that humiliate you every instant, the 
 discomfort during sleep, the horrible noise of four 
 hundred pairs of chains in an echoing room, the 
 prospect of being fired at and riddled with bullets, 
 if it should please five or six villains to rebel, those 
 terrible details are nothing; they are the roses, as I 
 told you. A man, a bourgeois, who should have the 
 misfortune to go there, would die of chagrin in a 
 very short time. For you must live bound to another
 
 236 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 man ! You are forced to put up with the company of 
 five men at meals, and of twenty-three during sleep, 
 to listen to their conversation! That society, ma- 
 dame, has its secret laws; neglect to obey them, you 
 are murdered; but obey them and you become a mur- 
 derer! You must be either victim or executioner! 
 After all, if they would kill you at a single blow, they 
 would cure you of that life; but they are accomplished 
 in doing evil, and it is impossible to hold out against 
 the hatred of those men; they have absolute power 
 over a convict who offends them, and they can make of 
 his life a constant, never-ending torment, worse than 
 death. The man who repents and wants to behave is 
 the common enemy; first of all, he is suspected of in- 
 forming. Informing is punished with death on bare 
 suspicion. Each room has its tribunal, before which 
 they try crimes against the society. To refuse to 
 comply with the customs of the place is a crime, and 
 a man in that position is subject to trial: for ex- 
 ample, everyone must assist in all escapes; each 
 convict has his hour to escape, at which hour the 
 whole convict force owes him assistance and protec- 
 tion. To betray what a convict attempts in the 
 interest of his escape is a crime. I will not say any- 
 thing of the horrible morals of the galleys; it is liter- 
 ally true that a man doesn't belong to himself there. 
 The government, in order to neutralize attempts at 
 rebellion or escape, always couples two men who do 
 not agree, and thus makes the torture of the chain 
 unendurable; it puts men together who cannot endure 
 each other, or who are suspicious of each other."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 237 
 
 " How did you endure it?" asked Madame Gras- 
 lin. 
 
 "Ah! there you are," replied Farrabesche, " I 
 was fortunate: I wasn't drawn by lot to kill a 
 man who had been convicted, I never voted for 
 any man's death, I was never punished, I was 
 never found fault with, and I got along very well 
 with the three companions I had in succession; they 
 all three were afraid of me and liked me. But you 
 see, madame, I was famous at the galleys before I 
 got there. A chauffeur! for I was supposed to be 
 one of those devils. I have seen the burning done," 
 continued Farrabesche, after a pause, and in a low 
 tone, " but I would never take a hand in it or ac- 
 cept any of the stolen money. I was a refractory 
 conscript, that was all. I helped my comrades, I 
 kept watch, I fought, I did sentry duty in advance 
 of the main body or in the rear; but I never shed 
 a man's blood except in self-defence! Ah! I told 
 Monsieur Bonnet and my lawyer everything: and 
 the judges knew well that I was no assassin! But I 
 am a great criminal, all the same; nothing of what 
 I did is lawful. Two of my comrades had already 
 spoken of me as a man capable of the greatest 
 things. At the galleys, you see, madame, there is 
 nothing equal to a reputation of that sort, not even 
 money. To be left at peace in that republic of 
 misery, an assassination is a passport. I did nothing 
 to destroy that opinion. I was sad and resigned; it 
 was quite possible to be deceived by my face, and 
 they were deceived. My moody attitude, my silence,
 
 238 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 were taken for tokens of ferocity. Everybody, con- 
 victs, employes, young and old, respected me. I 
 presided over my room. No one ever disturbed my 
 sleep, and I was never suspected of informing. I 
 complied honestly with their rules; I never refused 
 to do one of them a service, I never showed the 
 least disgust; in fact, I howled with the wolves out- 
 wardly, and prayed God within. My last chain 
 companion was a soldier, twenty-two years old, who 
 had stolen and deserted after his theft; I had him 
 four years, we were friends, and wherever I may be, 
 I am sure of him when he comes out. The poor 
 devil, Guepin is his name, was 'not a criminal, he 
 was only a light-headed fool; his ten years will cure 
 him. Oh! if my fellows had discovered that I sub- 
 mitted to my punishment from religion; that, when 
 my time was out, I intended to live in a corner with- 
 out letting anyone know where I was, with the pur- 
 pose of forgetting that horrible society and of never 
 putting myself in the way of anyone of them, they 
 might have driven me mad." 
 
 "But, in that case, for a poor, tender-hearted 
 young man, impelled by passion, who, if the death 
 sentence were remitted " 
 
 " Oh! madame, there is no complete remission for 
 assassins! They begin by commuting the sentence 
 to twenty years at hard labor. But that is enough to 
 make any man shudder, especially a decent young 
 man! nobody can tell you of the life that awaits 
 you; it is a hundred times better to die! Yes, in such 
 a case, to die on the scaffold is good fortune."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 239 
 
 " I did not dare to think so," said Madame Gras- 
 lin. 
 
 Veronique had turned as pale as a taper. To hide 
 her face she rested her forehead on the balustrade 
 and remained in that position for a few moments. 
 Farrabesche did not know whether he ought to go or 
 stay. Madame Graslin rose, looked at Farrabesche 
 with an almost majestic expression and, to his un- 
 bounded amazement, said to him, in a voice that 
 stirred his heart: 
 
 " Thanks, my friend ! But whence did you derive 
 the courage to live and to suffer?" she asked, after a 
 pause. 
 
 "Ah! madame, Monsieur Bonnet had placed a 
 treasure in my heart! So that I love him better 
 than anybody on earth." 
 
 " Better than Catherine?" queried Madame Gras- 
 lin, smiling with a sort of bitterness. 
 
 "Ah! madame, almost as much." 
 
 " How did he set about it?" 
 
 " That man's voice and his words subdued me, 
 madame. Catherine brought him to the spot I 
 pointed out to you the other day in the common 
 lands, and he came to me alone. He was the new 
 cure of Montegnac, he told me; I was his parishioner; 
 he loved me, he knew that I was simply astray, not 
 lost as yet; he did not intend to betray me but to 
 save me; in short, he said things to me of the sort 
 that go to the bottom of your heart ! And you see, 
 madame, that man orders you to do good with the 
 power of those who want to make you do wrong.
 
 240 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 He told me, the poor, dear man, that Catherine was 
 a mother. I was going to abandon two creatures 
 to shame and misery! 'Oh! well,' I said to him, 
 'they will be like me, I have no future.' He 
 answered that I had two evil futures before me, 
 in this world and in the other, if I persisted in not 
 changing my mode of life. Here on earth I should 
 die on the scaffold. If I was taken, it would be im- 
 possible to defend me before the court. On the 
 other hand, if I should take advantage of the new 
 government's indulgence for offences growing out of 
 the conscription, if I should give myself up, he would 
 leave nothing undone to save my life: he would find 
 a good lawyer for me who would get me off with ten 
 years' penal servitude. Then Monsieur Bonnet spoke 
 to me about the other life. Catherine wept like a 
 Magdalen. See, madame," said Farrabesche, point- 
 ing to his right hand, " she had her face on that hand 
 and I found it all wet with tears. She begged me to 
 live! Monsieur le cure promised to arrange matters 
 so that I and my child could lead a peaceful, happy 
 life here, giving me his word that I should be free 
 from any sort of affront. Finally, he catechised me 
 like a little boy. After three visits at night, he made 
 me as supple as a glove. Would you like to know 
 why, madame?" 
 
 Farrabesche and Madame Graslin looked at each 
 other, neither rightly interpreting the other's curi- 
 osity. 
 
 "Well," continued the poor ex-convict, "when 
 he went away the first time, and Catherine went to
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 241 
 
 show him the way, I was left alone. I felt in my 
 heart a sort of refreshing calmness, a pleasant sen- 
 sation that I had not felt since my childhood. It re- 
 sembled the happiness poor Catherine had afforded 
 me. The love of that dear man who had sought me 
 out, his solicitude for me, for my future, for my soul, 
 all moved me deeply and made me a different man. 
 A light shone into my mind. So long as he spoke to 
 me, I resisted him. What could you expect? he was 
 a priest, and we outlaws didn't eat their bread. But 
 when the sound of his steps and Catherine's died 
 away, oh! then I was, as he told me two days later, 
 enlightened by grace; from that moment God gave 
 me strength to endure everything: imprisonment, 
 trial, chains, the journey and life at the galleys. I 
 relied on his word as if it had been the Gospel, 
 I looked upon my suffering as a debt to be paid. 
 When I suffered too keenly, I looked ahead ten 
 years, to that house in the woods, my little Ben- 
 jamin and Catherine. Good Monsieur Bonnet kept 
 his word. But I missed someone. Catherine was 
 not at the door of the prison nor on the common 
 lands. She must have died of grief. That is why 
 I am always sad. Now, thanks to you, I shall have 
 useful employment, and I will work at it, body and 
 soul, with my boy, whom I live for." 
 
 "You enable me to understand how monsieur le 
 cure has succeeded in changing this commune." 
 
 " Oh! no one can resist him," said Farrabesche. 
 
 " True, I know it," said Veronique, shortly, dis- 
 missing him with a farewell gesture. 
 16
 
 242 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Farrabesche retired. Veronique spent a great part 
 of the day walking up and down that terrace, not- 
 withstanding a fine rain that fell until evening. She 
 was in a sombre mood. When her face contracted 
 so, neither her mother nor Aline dared interrupt her. 
 She did not notice her mother, just at dusk, talking 
 with Monsieur Bonnet, who conceived the idea of 
 breaking in upon that fit of unhealthy melancholy 
 by sending her son to call her. Little Francis went 
 and took his mother by the hand, and she allowed him 
 to lead her away. When she saw Monsieur Bonnet, 
 she made a gesture of surprise in which there was 
 a little terror. The cure led her back to the terrace 
 and said to her: 
 
 "Well, madame, what were you talking about 
 with Farrabesche?" 
 
 To avoid a falsehood, Veronique did not choose to 
 reply; she questioned Monsieur Bonnet instead. 
 
 " Was that man your first victory?" 
 
 "Yes," he replied. "His conquest should give 
 me all Montegnac, I thought, and I was not mis- 
 taken." 
 
 Veronique pressed his hand, and said to him, in 
 a voice that was full of tears: 
 
 "From this day I am your penitent, monsieur le 
 cure. I will come to-morrow and make a general 
 confession." 
 
 That last sentence was the outcome of a great 
 internal effort, it signified that she had won a pain- 
 ful victory over herself. The cure, without reply- 
 ing, escorted her to the chateau, and stayed with
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 243 
 
 her until dinner-time, talking about the extensive 
 improvements projected in Montegnac. 
 
 "Agriculture is a question of time," he said, 
 "and the little I know about it has taught me what 
 profit there is in a winter advantageously spent. 
 The rains are just beginning, very soon our moun- 
 tains will be covered with snow and your opera- 
 tions will become impossible; so hurry Monsieur 
 Grossete-te." 
 
 Monsieur Bonnet, who bore the burden of the 
 conversation and gradually drew Madame Graslin 
 into it, to divert her mind, left her almost recovered 
 from the emotions of that day. Nevertheless, La 
 Sauviat found her daughter so excited that she 
 passed the night with her. 
 
 The next day, a messenger from Limoges, de- 
 spatched by Grossete"te to Madame Graslin, handed 
 her the following letters: 
 
 TO MADAME GRASLIN 
 
 "MY DEAR CHILD, 
 
 "Although it was difficult to find horses for you, 
 I hope that you are pleased with the three I sent 
 you. If you want plough-horses or draught-horses, 
 you must get them somewhere else. In any event, 
 it is much better to do your ploughing and hauling 
 with oxen. Every district where farm-work is done 
 with horses loses capital when a horse is used up; 
 whereas oxen, instead of causing a loss, afford a 
 profit to the farmers who use them.
 
 244 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "I approve your undertaking in every respect, 
 my child; you will employ in it that consuming 
 mental activity of yours which was turning against 
 you and wearing you out. But this thing that you 
 asked me to find for you in addition to the horses, 
 this man who is capable of seconding and, above all, 
 of understanding you, is one of those rarities that 
 we do not raise in the provinces or do not keep 
 here. The education of high-grade cattle of that 
 sort is a speculation that takes too much time" and 
 is too risky for us to indulge in. Moreover, people 
 of such superior mental endowment frighten us, and 
 we call them originals. In fact, the persons who 
 belong to the scientific category from which you 
 wish to take your collaborator are ordinarily so pru- 
 dent and lead such regular lives that I was reluc- 
 tant to write you how hopeless the quest seemed to 
 me to be. You asked me for a poet, or, if you prefer, 
 a fool; but our fools all go to Paris. I have mentioned 
 your plan to several young clerks in the land-reg- 
 istry office, to contractors for earth-work, and to 
 men who have built canals, and no one has discov- 
 ered any profit in what you propose. Suddenly, 
 chance threw me into the arms of the very man you 
 want, a young man upon whom I believed that I was 
 conferring a favor; but you will see from his letter 
 that benevolence should not be practised at random. 
 A good action is the one thing in this world that 
 should be most carefully considered. One never 
 knows if what has seemed a good thing to do will 
 not prove later to have been a mistake. To practise
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 245 
 
 benevolence is, as I know to-day, to create a destiny 
 for one's self." 
 
 After reading that sentence, Madame Graslin 
 dropped the letters, and sat for some moments lost 
 in thought. 
 
 " O my God !" she said, " when wilt Thou cease 
 to smite me by every hand?" 
 
 Then she took up the sheets once more and 
 read on: 
 
 "Gerard seems to me to have a cool head and 
 a warm heart, and that's the sort of man you 
 need. Paris is at this moment all upset with new 
 doctrines, and I should be overjoyed to prevent this 
 boy's falling into the traps laid by ambitious men to 
 deceive the instincts of our noble-hearted French 
 youth. Although I do not approve of the decidedly 
 benumbing life of the provinces, no more do I ap- 
 prove the life of excitement in Paris, this ardor for 
 renovating everything which urges young men into 
 new paths. You alone know my opinions: in my 
 view, the moral world revolves on its own axis like 
 the material world. My poor protege asks for impos- 
 sible things. No power could hold its own before 
 such intense, imperious, arbitrary ambition. I am 
 a believer in conservatism, in moderation in politics, 
 and I am not fond of the social upheavals to which 
 all these great minds subject us. I confide to you 
 the principles I hold, as an old, dyed-in-the-wool 
 monarchist, because you are discreet ! Here I hold
 
 246 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 my peace among a lot of excellent men who, the 
 deeper they plunge, the more they believe in prog- 
 ress; but I suffer when I see the irreparable misery 
 already inflicted on our dear country. 
 
 " So I answered this young man's letter by telling 
 him that a task worthy of him was all ready for him. 
 He will come to see you, and although his letter, 
 which I enclose, enables you to form a judgment con- 
 cerning him, you will want to study him further, will 
 you not? You women divine many things from the 
 appearance of people. Moreover, every man whom 
 you take into your service, even the most indifferent, 
 ought to be agreeable to you. If he does not suit 
 you, you can refuse to employ him; but if he should 
 suit you, my dear child, cure him of his ill-disguised 
 ambition, make him take up with the happy, peace- 
 ful life of the fields, where charity is never-ending, 
 where the qualities of great and strong minds can find 
 constant exercise, where one discovers every day in 
 the products of nature reasons for admiration, and 
 in genuine progress, in real improvements, an occu- 
 pation worthy of man. I am well aware that great 
 ideas engender great deeds; but as that class of ideas 
 is very rare, I think that, as a general rule, acts are 
 of more value than ideas. The man who fertilizes a 
 little plot of land, who brings a fruit-tree to perfec- 
 tion, who plants grass in ungrateful soil, is much 
 above those who seek theories for mankind. In what 
 respect did Newton's science change the lot of the 
 inhabitant of the fields? O my dear, I used to love 
 you, but to-day, understanding as I do what you are
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 247 
 
 about to undertake, I adore you. No one in Limoges 
 forgets you, everyone admires your noble resolution 
 to improve the condition of Montegnac. Be a little 
 grateful to us for having the spirit to admire what is 
 beautiful, without forgetting that the foremost of 
 your admirers is also your first friend, 
 
 " F. GROSSETETE." 
 
 GERARD TO GROSSETETE 
 
 " I am about to impose melancholy confidences 
 upon you, monsieur; but you were like a father to 
 me when you might have been no more than a pa- 
 tron. To you alone, therefore, to you who have made 
 me all that I am, can I say what I have to say. I 
 am suffering from a painful disease, a mental dis- 
 ease, by the way: I have sentiments in my heart 
 and thoughts in my mind which make me utterly 
 unfit for what the State or society demands of me. 
 This will, perhaps, seem to you like ingratitude, 
 whereas it is simply self -accusation. When I was 
 twelve years old, you, my generous godfather, dis- 
 covered in the son of a simple mechanic a certain 
 aptitude for the exact sciences and a precocious 
 ambition to succeed in life; therefore you assisted 
 me in my flight toward a higher sphere, when my 
 original destiny was to be a carpenter like my poor 
 father, who did not live long enough to enjoy my 
 elevation. Assuredly, monsieur, you did well, and 
 not a day passes that I do not bless you; so that, 
 perhaps, I am wrong. But whether 1 am wrong or
 
 248 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 right, I am suffering; and do I not place you on an 
 eminence by addressing my complaints to you? is it 
 not equivalent to taking you, like God, for a supreme 
 judge? In any event, I trust to your indulgence. 
 
 " Between sixteen and eighteen I devoted myself 
 to the study of the exact sciences in such a way 
 as to make myself ill, as you know. My future 
 depended upon my admission to the Polytechnic 
 School. In those days,, my work cultivated my 
 brain beyond all measure: I nearly killed myself, 
 I studied night and day, I presumed further upon 
 my strength, perhaps, than the nature of my organs 
 permitted. I was determined to pass such satis- 
 factory examinations that my position in the school 
 would be assured, and sufficiently advanced to en- 
 title me to remission of .the fees, which I wished to 
 spare you the necessity of paying. I triumphed ! 
 I shudder to-day when I think of the terrible con- 
 scription of brains turned over to the State every 
 year through family ambition, which, by imposing 
 such cruel study upon the young man when he is 
 just completing his growth in every direction, is 
 certain to produce indescribable misery, killing by 
 lamplight divers precious faculties which would de- 
 velop later and become great and powerful. The 
 laws of nature are pitiless, they do not yield at all to 
 the enterprises or wishes of society. In the moral 
 order as in the natural order, every abuse exacts 
 payment for itself. Fruit demanded prematurely 
 from a tree, in a greenhouse, comes at the expense 
 of the tree itself, or of the quality of its product.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 249 
 
 La Quintinie killed orange-trees in order to give 
 Louis XIV. a bouquet of flowers every morning 
 throughout the season. It is the same with intel- 
 lects. The exertion of brain-force demanded of a 
 growing youth is discounting his future. The one 
 essential thing that our epoch lacks is the legis- 
 lative spirit. Europe has had no true legislators 
 since Jesus Christ, who left His work incomplete 
 because He did not publish His political code. For 
 instance, before the establishment of special schools 
 and their method of recruiting pupils, was the prob- 
 lem considered by any of those great thinkers who 
 carry in their heads a conception of the vast extent 
 of the total relations of any institution with the 
 forces of humanity, who weigh its advantages and 
 inconveniences, who study the laws of the future 
 in the past? Did anyone make investigations as 
 to the fate of those exceptional men who, by a fatal 
 chance, became versed in the science of humanity 
 before their time? Was the scarcity of such men 
 taken account of? Was their end studied? Was 
 any attempt made to ascertain the means by which 
 they were enabled to endure the perpetual pressure 
 of thought? How many, like Pascal, have died 
 prematurely, worn out by their knowledge! Was 
 any inquiry made as to the age at which those who 
 lived many years began their studies? Even as I 
 write, has anyone ever ascertained, does anyone 
 know, the internal arrangement of the brains of those 
 who can endure the premature assault of human 
 knowledge? Does anyone suspect that that question
 
 2$0 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 depends upon the physiology of man, before every- 
 thing? Well, I believe, now, that the general rule 
 is to remain a long while in the vegetative state 
 of adolescence. In most of those exceptional cases 
 in which the organs are forced in adolescence, the 
 result is a shortening of life. In like manner, the 
 man of genius who objects to the precocious exer- 
 cise of his faculties must be an exception within 
 an exception. If I am in accord with social facts, 
 and the results of medical observation, the method 
 adopted in France for recruiting the technical schools 
 is a work of distinction after the manner of La 
 Quintinie's, but applied to the noblest subjects in 
 each generation. 
 
 " But I continue, and I will subjoin my doubts to 
 each division of facts. Having been admitted to the 
 School, I worked afresh and with much more ardor, 
 in order to end my course as triumphantly as I 
 began. From nineteen to twenty-one, therefore, 
 I developed all my aptitudes, fed my faculties by 
 constant exercise. Those two years were a fitting 
 crown to the first three, during which I had simply 
 prepared to do well. Imagine my pride, therefore, 
 when I had won the right to choose whichever career 
 suited me best, military or naval engineering, the 
 artillery or general staff, the department of mines or 
 of roads and bridges! By your advice, I selected 
 the roads and bridges. But how many young men 
 fail where I triumphed ! Do you know that, from 
 year to year, the State increases its scientific re- 
 quirements with relation to the School, that the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 251 
 
 studies become more difficult and less attractive, as 
 time goes on? The preparatory labor which I per- 
 formed so faithfully was nothing compared to the 
 unremitting study at the School, which is intended to 
 familiarize young men of nineteen to twenty-one 
 years with the whole range of the physical, mathe- 
 matical, astronomical, and chemical sciences, includ- 
 ing their nomenclature. The State, which, in France, 
 seems inclined to substitute itself for the paternal 
 power in many things, is without bowels or paternal 
 feeling; it makes its experiments in anima vili. It 
 never asks for the appalling statistics of the misery it 
 has caused; it has not for thirty-six years made any 
 investigations as to the number of brain fevers that 
 declare themselves, or as to the despair that bursts 
 forth among those young men, or the mental ruin 
 that decimates them. I dwell upon this painful side 
 of the question, for it is one of the precedent condi- 
 tions of the final result: for some weak brains the re- 
 sult is brought nearer instead of being postponed. You 
 know, too, that those youths in whom conception is 
 slow, or who are temporarily benumbed by excessive 
 work, may have to remain at the School three years 
 instead of two, and that they are viewed with a sus- 
 picion by no means complimentary to their capacity. 
 Lastly, there is a chance that young men, who may 
 later show themselves to possess superior attain- 
 ments, may leave the School without employment, 
 because they fail to show the requisite amount of 
 knowledge at the final examinations. They are 
 called dry fruit, and Napoleon made sub-lieutenants
 
 2$2 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 of them! To-day the dry fruit represents an enor- 
 mous loss in capital for families, and time lost for 
 the individual. But, at all events, I triumphed ! At 
 twenty-one I had mastered mathematical science to 
 the point to which men of genius have developed it, 
 and I was impatient to distinguish myself by con- 
 tinuing their work. That desire is so natural that 
 almost all the pupils, when they leave the School, 
 have their eyes fixed on that moral sun called glory! 
 The first thought of all of us is to be Newtons, La- 
 places, or Vaubans. Such are the efforts that France 
 demands of the young man who graduates from that 
 famous School ! 
 
 " Now let us follow the destinies of these men, 
 selected with so much care from the whole genera- 
 tion. At twenty-one years a young man dreams of 
 his whole life, he expects marvels of himself. I 
 entered the School of Roads and Bridges, I was a 
 pupil in engineering. I studied the science of bridge- 
 building, and with such zeal ! you surely remember. 
 I left the school in 1826, at the age of twenty- 
 four, as yet only a candidate for a position as 
 engineer; the State allowed me a hundred and fifty 
 francs a month. The humblest book-keeper earns 
 that amount at the age of eighteen, in Paris, work- 
 ing only four hours a day. By the most extraor- 
 dinary good luck, perhaps because of the distinction 
 my faithful study had earned for me, I was ap- 
 pointed an ordinary engineer in 1828, at the age of 
 twenty-six. I was sent to a certain sub-prefecture, 
 you know where, with a salary of twenty-five
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 253 
 
 hundred francs. The question of money is of no 
 importance. Certainly my lot is more brilliant 
 than could be anticipated for the son of a carpenter; 
 but what grocer's son, planted in a shop at sixteen, 
 would not be on the road to an independent fortune 
 at twenty -six? I understood then to what end that 
 cruel development of the intelligence, those hercu- 
 lean efforts demanded by the State, were directed. 
 The State set me to measuring paving-stones and 
 piles of rocks on the highways. I had to keep in 
 repair and sometimes to build culverts and small 
 one-arched bridges, to lay out driftways, to clean 
 out and sometimes to dig ditches. In the office I 
 had to answer questions concerning highway lines, 
 or the planting and felling of trees. Such are, in 
 fact, the principal and only occupations of ordinary 
 engineers, with the occasional addition of some- 
 thing in the way of levelling, which they compel us 
 to do ourselves, and which the least of our assist- 
 ants, with his experience alone, always does much 
 better than we, with all our scientific learning. 
 There are nearly four hundred of us ordinary engi- 
 neers and pupils in engineering, and as there are 
 only a little over a hundred engineers-in-chief, all 
 the ordinary engineers cannot rise to that higher 
 grade; nor is there any rank higher than engineer- 
 in-chief to absorb any of them; for we cannot count 
 as a means of absorption a dozen or fifteen general 
 or divisional inspectorships, officials almost as useless 
 in our corps as colonels are in the artillery, where 
 the battery is the unit. The ordinary engineer,
 
 254 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 like the captain of artillery, knows the whole sci- 
 ence; there should be nothing above him except a 
 departmental head to connect the eighty-six engi- 
 neers with the government; for a single engineer, 
 assisted by two students, is enough for a depart- 
 ment. The existence of a hierarchy in such corps 
 results in subordinating active talents to old, played- 
 out talents who, believing that they are improving 
 them, change, or ordinarily emasculate, ideas which 
 are submitted to them, perhaps with the sole pur- 
 pose of not having their own existence threatened; 
 for that seems to me to be the only object served by 
 the General Council of Roads and Bridges in France, 
 so far as its influence upon public works is concerned. 
 " Let us suppose, however, that when between 
 thirty and forty I become an engineer of the first- 
 class, and engineer-in-chief before I am fifty. Alas! I 
 can see my future, it is written so that my eyes can 
 read it. My engineer-in-chief is sixty years old; he 
 graduated with honor, as I did, from that famous 
 School; he has grown gray in two departments doing 
 what I am doing; he has become the most common- 
 place man it is possible to imagine; he has fallen from 
 the height to which he had raised himself; more than 
 that, he has not kept abreast of the science : the sci- 
 ence has progressed, he has remained stationary; nay, 
 more, he has forgotten what he knew! The man who 
 began at twenty-two, with all the internal symptoms 
 of superior talent, has to-day only the outward ap- 
 pearance of it. In the first place, being specially 
 directed toward the exact sciences and mathematics
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 255 
 
 by his education, he neglected everything that was 
 not part of his game. You cannot imagine how 
 utterly ignorant he is in the other branches of hu- 
 man knowledge. Figuring has withered his heart 
 and his brain. I do not dare whisper to anyone but 
 you the secret of his nonentity, sheltered as it is by 
 the renown of the Polytechnic School. This etiquette 
 is an imposing thing, and, on the faith of prejudice, 
 no one dares suggest a doubt concerning his capacity. 
 To you alone I will say that the loss of such talents 
 as he possessed was responsible for his making the 
 department spend a million instead of two hundred 
 thousand francs on a single contract. I wanted to 
 protest, to open the prefect's eyes; but an engineer 
 who is a friend of mine cited the example of one of 
 our comrades who has become the bete noire of the 
 administration for doing a thing of that sort. 'Would 
 you like it very well, if you were engineer-in-chief, 
 to have your mistakes shown up by your subor- 
 dinate?' he said. 'Your chief will soon be a divi- 
 sional inspector. As soon as one of us makes a 
 stupid blunder, the government, which can never be 
 in the wrong, withdraws him from active service and 
 makes him an inspector.' That is how the reward 
 due to talent falls to the lot of no talent. All France 
 saw the disaster that befell the first suspension- 
 bridge that an engineer, a member of the Academy 
 of Sciences, ever tried to construct; it was right in 
 the heart of Paris. It was a deplorable disaster, 
 caused by errors in construction which would not 
 have been made by the builder of the Briare Canal
 
 256 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 under Henri IV., nor by the monk who built Pont 
 Royal, and which the government smoothed over by 
 giving that engineer a seat in the General Council. 
 Are the special schools, then, naught but great fac- 
 tories of incapacity? This subject demands extended 
 consideration. If I am right, there should be a re- 
 form, in the method of procedure at least, for I dare 
 not suggest a doubt as to the usefulness of the 
 schools. But, if we look back at the past, do we 
 see that France in the old days ever lacked the 
 eminent talents essential for the welfare of the 
 State, such talents as the State would fain pro- 
 duce to-day by the Monge process? Did Vauban 
 graduate from any other School than the great 
 school called vocation? Who was Riquet's teacher? 
 When men of genius, prompted by vocation, rise 
 as they do above their social surroundings, they are 
 almost always completely equipped; in such cases 
 man is not simply a being created for a special 
 purpose, he has the gift of universality. I do not 
 believe that an engineer graduated from the School 
 could ever build one of those miracles of architec- 
 ture which we owe to Leonardo da Vinci, mechani- 
 cian, architect, painter, one of the inventors of the 
 science of hydraulics and an indefatigable builder of 
 canals. Trained in their early youth to the strict 
 simplicity of the theorem, the young men whom the 
 School sends out lose the perception of grace and 
 ornamentation; a column seems to them of no use, 
 they go back to the point where art begins, pinning 
 their faith to what is useful. But all this is nothing
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 257 
 
 compared to the disease that is undermining me! I 
 feel that the most appalling metamorphosis is taking 
 place within me; I feel that my strength and my facul- 
 ties are diminishing, that, having been stretched be- 
 yond endurance, they are giving way. I am allowing 
 the prosaic character of my life to get the better of me. 
 I, who, by the nature of my efforts, sought to create 
 for myself a great destiny, find myself face to face 
 with the most trivial duties, verifying the measure 
 of piles of stones, inspecting roads, checking in- 
 voices of supplies. I do not have work enough to 
 employ me two hours a day. I see my colleagues 
 marry, adopt a mode of life contrary to the spirit 
 of modern society. Is my ambition unbounded? I 
 would like to be useful to my country. The coun- 
 try called upon me to put forth my utmost strength; 
 it bade me become one of the representatives of all 
 the sciences, and here I am standing with folded 
 arms in thfe depths of a province! I am not allowed 
 to leave the district in which I am planted, in order 
 to exert my faculties by devising useful projects. 
 Concealed but real disfavor is the assured reward 
 of that one of us who, yielding to his inspirations, 
 goes beyond what his special service demands of 
 him. In such a case, the favor that a man of supe- 
 rior parts must expect is disregard of his talent, of 
 his presumption, and the interment of his project in 
 the archives at headquarters. What will be the 
 reward of Vicat, the man who is responsible for the 
 only real progress the science of practical construc- 
 tion has made? 
 17
 
 258 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " The General Council of Roads and Bridges, 
 composed in part of men worn out by long and 
 sometimes honorable services, but who have no 
 strength left except for negation and who strike 
 out what they are no longer able to understand, 
 is the extinguisher used to annihilate the projects 
 of ambitious minds. That council seems to have 
 been created to paralyze the arms of the noble 
 band of young men who simply ask to work, who 
 wish to serve France! Monstrous things are going 
 on in Paris; the future of a province depends upon 
 the visa of those centralizers who, by intrigues 
 which I have not time to describe, check the exe- 
 cution of the best plans; the best being those which 
 offer the most resistance to the avidity of companies 
 or speculators, which clash with or overturn the 
 greatest number of abuses, and abuses are always 
 stronger in France than reforms. Five years hence 
 I shall cease to be myself, I shall see the extinction 
 of my ambition, of my noble desire to employ the 
 faculties which my country has asked me to develop, 
 and which will rust in the obscure corner where I 
 live. Reckoning upon the most fortunate chances, 
 the future seems to me to have little in store. 
 
 " I have taken advantage of a furlough to come 
 to Paris; I wish to change my occupation, to find an 
 opportunity to employ my energy, my activity, and 
 my knowledge. I will send in my resignation, I 
 will go into the provinces where men of my special 
 class are lacking, and where such men may be able 
 to accomplish great things. If nothing of the sort
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 259 
 
 is possible, I will take hold of one of the new doc- 
 trines which seem likely to bring about important 
 changes in the present social order, by more judi- 
 cious direction of the workers. What are we, if 
 not workers without work, tools in a storehouse? 
 We are organized as if it were our province to move 
 the globe, and we have nothing to do! I feel within 
 me something great which is growing smaller, which 
 is at the point of death, and I tell you so with 
 mathematical frankness. 
 
 "Before changing my condition, I would like to 
 have your opinion; I look upon myself as your child, 
 and I shall never take any important step without 
 submitting it to you, for your experience equals 
 your kindness. I am perfectly well aware that the 
 State, after obtaining the men of special qualifica- 
 tions, cannot invent monuments to be reared for 
 their express benefit; it has not three hundred bridges 
 a year to be built, and it can no more order monu- 
 ments constructed for the benefit of its engineers 
 than it can declare war in order to make an oppor- 
 tunity for officers to win battles and blossom out as 
 great captains; but that being so, as the man of 
 genius has never failed to appear when circum- 
 stances called for him, as, whenever there is much 
 money to be spent or great things to be accom- 
 plished, one of those unique men always comes 
 forth from the crowd, and as, in that class especially, 
 one Vauban is enough, nothing shows more conclu- 
 sively the uselessness of the institution. And then, 
 too, when they have spurred such a man on by so
 
 2(50 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 many preparations, how can they fail to understand 
 that he will struggle manfully before allowing him- 
 self to be thrust out of sight? Is that a wise policy? 
 Is it not fanning ambitions already ablaze? Have 
 they told all those effervescing brains that they 
 must be able to calculate everything except their 
 own destinies? And so it is that, among those six 
 hundred young men, there are exceptions, strong 
 men who resist their demonetization, and I know 
 some of them; but, if I could describe their struggle 
 with men and things, when, armed with useful proj- 
 ects, with conceptions calculated to engender life 
 and wealth in lifeless districts, they encounter ob- 
 stacles where the State has supposed that it was 
 providing them with aid and protection, you would 
 consider the forceful man, the man of talent, the 
 man whose nature is a miracle, a hundred times 
 more unfortunate and more to be pitied than the 
 man whose debased nature lends itself to the degen- 
 eration of its faculties. So I prefer to direct a com- 
 mercial and industrial enterprise, to live upon little 
 or nothing, seeking to solve one of the numerous 
 problems which industry and society still need to 
 have solved, rather than remain in my present 
 position. You will tell me that there is nothing to 
 prevent me from employing my intellectual powers 
 where I am, from seeking in the silence of this un- 
 interesting life the solution of some problem of im- 
 portance to humanity. Ah! monsieur, do you not 
 know the influence of the provinces and the relaxing 
 effect of a life just enough employed to use up the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 261 
 
 time in almost futile efforts, and yet not enough to 
 call forth the rich resources our nature has created? 
 Do not, my dear protector, believe me to be devoured 
 by a longing to make my fortune or by any insensate 
 thirst for glory. I am too much of a calculator to be 
 ignorant of the emptiness of glory. Such energy as is 
 essential for this life does not make me wish to marry, 
 for, when I consider my present destiny, I have not 
 sufficient regard for existence to make any such 
 melancholy present to another myself. Although I 
 look upon money as one of the most potent means of 
 action given to man as a unit of society, it is, after 
 all, nothing more than a means of action. Therefore 
 my only pleasure consists in the certainty of beiog 
 useful to my country. My greatest joy would be to 
 act in an environment adapted to my faculties. If in 
 your neighborhood, in the circle of your acquaint- 
 ances, in the sphere in which you shine, you should 
 hear anyone mention an enterprise that demands any 
 of the acquirements you know me to possess, will 
 you let me know? I will wait six months for a reply 
 from you. 
 
 " Others think as I have written, monsieur and 
 dear friend. I have seen many of my comrades or 
 former pupils at the School caught, like myself, in 
 the trap of a specialty, engineer-geographers, cap- 
 tain-professors, captains in the military engineering 
 corps, who feel that they are captains for the rest of 
 their days, and who bitterly regret not having gone 
 into active service. In fact, on several occasions, 
 we have admitted to one another the long-continued
 
 262 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 mystification of which we have been made victims, 
 and which becomes evident when it is too late to 
 escape from its influence, when the animal has be- 
 come used to the machine which he turns round 
 and round, when the invalid is accustomed to his 
 disease. Having closely studied those deplorable 
 results, I put the following questions to myself and I 
 repeat them to you, a man of sound common sense 
 and capable of giving them mature consideration, 
 knowing that they are the fruit of meditations purged 
 in the fire of suffering. What end has the State in 
 view? Does it wish to obtain the services of men 
 of capacity? The means employed work directly 
 against the end: it has unquestionably created the 
 most downright mediocrities which a government 
 hostile to superior talent could desire. Does it wish 
 to provide a career for distinguished intellects? It 
 has provided a most mediocre position for them: 
 there is not one of the men graduated from the 
 schools who does not regret, between the ages of 
 fifty and sixty, that he ever fell into the snare con- 
 cealed by the promises of the State. Does the State 
 wish to obtain men of genius? What one man of 
 eminent talent have the schools produced since 
 1790? Except for Napoleon, would Cachin, the 
 engineering genius to whom we owe Cherbourg, 
 ever have been heard of? The imperial despotism 
 honored him, the constitutional regime would have 
 stifled him. Does the Academy of Sciences include 
 many men graduated from the special schools? Per- 
 haps there are two or three! The man of genius will
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 263 
 
 always make himself manifest outside of the special 
 schools. In the sciences to which those schools are 
 devoted, genius obeys no laws but its own, it is de- 
 veloped only by circumstances over which man has 
 no control: neither the State, nor the science of man- 
 kind, anthropology, knows anything of them. Ri- 
 quet, Perronet, Leonardo da Vinci, Cachin, Palladio, 
 Brunelleschi, Michael-Angelo, Bramante, Vauban, 
 Vicat, all owe their genius to unobserved, prelim- 
 inary causes, to which we give the name of chance, 
 the watchword of fools. Never do such sublime 
 workmen as they fail their generation, with or with- 
 out schools. Now, is it a fact that, by means of this 
 organization, the State is the gainer by the better or 
 less extravagant execution of works of public utility? 
 In the first place, private undertakings do very well 
 without engineers; furthermore, the works under- 
 taken by our government are executed in the most 
 expensive way, to say nothing of the cost of the 
 enormous staff of the department of Roads and 
 Bridges. In other countries, Germany, England, 
 Italy, where such institutions as these do not exist, 
 similar works are constructed at least as well and 
 at much less expense than in France. Those three 
 countries are renowned for novel and useful inven- 
 tions in that line. I know that it is fashionable, in 
 speaking of our schools, to say that Europe envies 
 us. But, for the last fifteen years, Europe, which is 
 constantly watching us, has established nothing of 
 the same sort. England, that shrewd reckoner, has 
 better schools among her artisan population, from
 
 264 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 which practical men suddenly step forth and become 
 great in a moment, when they proceed from practice 
 to theory. Stephenson and Macadam were not prod- 
 ucts of our famous schools. But of what use is it to 
 talk? When young and skilful engineers, full of fire 
 and ardor, have at the very outset of their career 
 solved the problem of keeping the highways of 
 France in condition, a problem which requires the 
 expenditure of hundreds of millions in a quarter of a 
 century, which highways are in a pitiable condi- 
 tion, it is of no use for them to publish learned 
 works and memorials; everything is swallowed at 
 general headquarters, in that Parisian centre where 
 everything goes in and from which nothing comes 
 out, where old men are jealous of young men, where 
 the higher positions are used as places of retirement 
 for the old engineers who have lost their wits. That 
 is why, with a thoroughly educated corps scattered 
 over the whole of France, a corps which forms one 
 of the wheels in tfie administrative machine, and 
 which ought to lead the country in such matters and 
 enlighten it upon the great questions within its juris- 
 diction, it will happen that we are still discussing the 
 question of railroads when other countries have fin- 
 ished building theirs. Now, if France had ever been 
 able to demonstrate the excellence of the institution 
 of special schools, would it not have been in its 
 treatment of that superb branch of public works, 
 destined to change the face of the globe, to double the 
 duration of human life by modifying the laws of time 
 and space? Belgium, the United States, Germany,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 265 
 
 England, none of which have a Polytechnic School, 
 will be covered with a network of railways when 
 our engineers are still laying out the lines of ours, 
 when shameful speculations, concealed behind proj- 
 ects for the construction of lines, will retard their 
 execution. Not a stone is laid in France until half 
 a score of Parisian scribblers have made foolish and 
 utterly useless reports. Thus, so far as the State is 
 concerned, it derives no profit from its special schools; 
 as for the individual, his fortune is mediocre, his life 
 a cruel disappointment. Certainly the talents that 
 the pupil has displayed between the ages of sixteen 
 and twenty-six prove that, if left to carve out his 
 own destiny, he would have made it greater and 
 richer than that to which the government has 
 doomed him. As merchant, scientist, soldier, that 
 master-mind would have acted in a wide sphere, if 
 his priceless faculties and his zeal had not been 
 idiotically and prematurely emasculated. Where is 
 the progress, then? The State and the man cer- 
 tainly lose by the present system. A half -century's 
 experience certainly demands changes in the method 
 of conducting an institution, does it not? What 
 priesthood sets forth the necessity of selecting from 
 a whole generation in France the men destined to 
 constitute the learned portion of the nation? What 
 studies ought not those great priests of fate to have 
 pursued ? It may be that mathematical knowledge is 
 not so necessary to them as physiological knowledge. 
 Does it not seem to you that there is an opening for a 
 little of that second-sight which is the magic of great
 
 266 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 men? The examiners are former professors, hon- 
 orable men grown old in toil, whose duties are 
 confined to discovering the best memories: they 
 are not capable of doing anything more than just 
 what is asked of them. Assuredly, their functions 
 should be considered the most important in the 
 State, and should call for men of extraordinary 
 merit. 
 
 " Do not think, monsieur and dear friend, that my 
 animadversions refer simply to the School of which 
 I am a graduate; they are aimed not only at the 
 institution itself, but also, and especially, at the 
 method employed to feed it. That method is 
 competition, a modern invention, essentially bad, 
 and bad not in science alone, but wherever it is 
 employed, in the arts, in every case of selection 
 between men, projects, or things. If it is unfor- 
 tunate for our famous schools that they have turned 
 out no larger numbers of superior men than any 
 other collection of young men would have done, it is 
 still more shameful that the first great prize com- 
 petitions of the institute have produced neither a 
 great painter, a great musician, a great architect, 
 nor a great sculptor; just as, for twenty years 
 past, the elections have not brought into the gov- 
 ernment, from among the flood of mediocrities, a 
 single great statesman. My observation has de- 
 tected an error which vitiates both education and 
 politics in France. That grave error rests upon the 
 following principle, which the organizers have failed 
 to understand:
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 267 
 
 "Nothing, either in past experience or in the nature 
 of things, affords a certainty that the intellectual quali- 
 ties of the youth will be those of the matured man. 
 
 "At this moment, I am on intimate terms with 
 several distinguished men who have made a study 
 of all the moral diseases by which France is con- 
 sumed. They have realized, as I have, that the 
 superior schools turn out men whose capabilities are 
 only temporary, because they are without employ- 
 ment or future prospects; that the knowledge im- 
 parted by the inferior schools is of no benefit to the 
 State, because its recipients are devoid of conviction 
 and feeling. Our whole system of public instruction 
 demands a thorough overhauling, which should be 
 presided over by a man of profound knowledge, of 
 a powerful will, and endowed with that genius for 
 legislation which no man of modern times has pos- 
 sessed, except, perhaps, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. It 
 may be that the overflow from the special schools 
 should be employed in elementary instruction, so 
 necessary to the welfare of a people. We have not 
 enough patient, devoted teachers to handle those 
 masses. The deplorable number of crimes and mis- 
 demeanors indicates a social sore whose source is 
 in that semi-instruction afforded the people, which 
 tends to destroy the social bond, by causing them to 
 reflect just enough to desert the religious beliefs 
 favorable to the government, and not enough to 
 educate them up to the theory of obedience and 
 duty, which is the last word of transcendental phi- 
 losophy. It is impossible to make a whole nation
 
 268 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 study Kant; so that belief and usage are much 
 better for the masses than study and argument. If 
 I had to begin life anew, I might, perhaps, enter a 
 seminary, and I would like to be a simple country 
 cure, or the school-teacher of a commune. I am too 
 far advanced now in my profession to be a simple 
 primary teacher, and I am fitted to act upon a more 
 extended circle than that of a country school or 
 curacy. The Saint-Simonians, whom I was tempted 
 to join, propose to take a course in which I could not 
 follow them; but, despite their errors, they have put 
 their fingers on several sore spots, the result of our 
 legislation, which no attempt is made to cure except 
 by insufficient palliatives, which will only serve to 
 postpone a great moral and political crisis in France. 
 Adieu, dear monsieur; I trust that you will find 
 herein the assurance of my respectful and faithful 
 attachment, which, notwithstanding these observa- 
 tions, can never do aught but increase. 
 
 "GREGOiRE GERARD." 
 
 According to his old banker's habit, Grossetete 
 had minuted the following reply on the back of the 
 letter, placing above what he had written the sacra- 
 mental word: "ANSWERED": 
 
 "It is quite useless, my dear Gerard, to discuss 
 the observations contained in your letter, because, by 
 a freak of chance, I use the watchword of fools, 
 I have a proposition to make to you, the result of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 269 
 
 which will be to relieve you from the situation in 
 which you are so unhappy. Madame Graslin, who 
 owns the forests of Montegnac and a very unproduc- 
 tive plateau which lies at the foot of the long chain 
 of hills which her forests cover, has conceived the 
 idea of turning that extensive property to some 
 profitable use, of exploiting its woods, and of culti- 
 vating its rocky plains. To carry out that idea, she 
 needs a man with your scientific knowledge and your 
 ardor, who will have at the same time your disinter- 
 ested devotion and your practical utilitarian ideas. 
 Little money and plenty of work to do! an immense 
 result to be achieved by small means! a whole dis- 
 trict to be revolutionized ! To cause the most barren 
 spot on earth to yield abundantly is not that what 
 you desire, you who long to construct a poem? In 
 view of the tone of sincerity that pervades your 
 letter, I do not hesitate to tell you to come to see 
 me at Limoges; but, my friend, do not send in your 
 resignation, simply obtain permission to leave your 
 corps, explaining to your superiors that you wish 
 to study questions connected with your profession 
 outside of government work. In that way you will 
 lose none of your rights, and you will have time to 
 make up your mind whether the project conceived 
 by the cure of Montegnac, which commends itself to 
 Madame Graslin, is practicable. I will explain to you 
 when I see you the advantages that may accrue to 
 you in case these vast changes are possible. Rely 
 always upon the friendship of your devoted 
 
 "GROSSETETE."
 
 2/0 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Madame Graslin wrote to Grossete'te in reply only 
 these few words: 
 
 " Thanks, my friend; I await your protege." 
 
 She showed the engineer's letter to Monsieur 
 Bonnet, saying: 
 
 " One more wounded man in search of the great 
 hospital !" 
 
 The cure read the letter, re-read it, walked up 
 and down the terrace two or three times in silence, 
 and returned it to Madame Graslin. 
 
 " That is the letter of a noble mind," he said, 
 "and a superior man! He says that the schools 
 invented by the revolutionary genius manufacture 
 incapacities; for my part, I call them factories of 
 unbelievers, for, if Monsieur Gerard is not an 
 atheist, he is a Protestant." 
 
 " We will ask him the question," she said, struck 
 by that rejoinder. 
 
 A fortnight later, in December, Monsieur Grosse- 
 tete came to the chateau of Montegnac, in spite of 
 the cold, to present his protege, whom Veronique 
 and Monsieur Bonnet were impatiently awaiting. 
 
 " You see how fond of you I must be, my child," 
 said the old man, taking both Veronique's hands in 
 his and kissing them with the old-fashioned gallantry 
 that never offends a woman, " yes, very fond, in- 
 deed, to leave Limoges in such weather; but I was 
 determined to present Monsieur Gregoire Gerard to 
 you with my own hand, and here he is. He is a
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 271 
 
 man after your own heart, Monsieur Bonnet," added 
 the ex-banker, saluting the cure affectionately. 
 
 Gerard's exterior was far from engaging. Of 
 medium height, thick-set, with his neck between his 
 shoulders, as the phrase goes, he had golden-yellow 
 hair, the red eyes of the albino, lashes and eye- 
 brows almost white. Although his complexion, like 
 that of all people of that sort, was of a dazzling white- 
 ness, marks of the small-pox and some very apparent 
 scars took away its original brilliancy; study had 
 evidently impaired his sight, for he wore spectacles. 
 When he threw off a heavy gendarme's cloak, the 
 costume that he disclosed did not redeem the unat- 
 tractiveness of his countenance. The way in which 
 his clothes were put on and buttoned, his shabby 
 cravat, his soiled shirt, plainly denoted that lack of 
 care of the person which is the common reproach of 
 scientific men, all more or less absent-minded. As 
 in almost all thinkers, his manner and his attitude, 
 the development of the bust and the thinness of the 
 legs indicated a sort of bodily weakness produced by 
 meditative habits; but the power of the heart and 
 the ardor of the intelligence, the proofs of which 
 were written in his letter, made themselves manifest 
 on his brow, which you would have taken to be 
 carved from Carrara marble. Nature seemed to 
 have set aside that place for the visible tokens of 
 the man's grandeur, constancy, and kindness of 
 heart. The nose, as in all men of the Gallic race, 
 was somewhat flattened. His firm, straight mouth 
 denoted absolute discretion and an economical bent;
 
 272 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 but the whole face, wearied by study, had grown 
 old prematurely. 
 
 "We have occasion to thank you already, mon- 
 sieur," said Madame Graslin, "for your willingness 
 to come and assume the direction of works in a re- 
 gion that will afford you no other pleasure than the 
 satisfaction of knowing that one can do good here." 
 
 "Madame," he replied, "Monsieur Grossetete 
 told me enough about you on the road to make 
 me more than happy to be of use to you, and to 
 make the prospect of living in your society and 
 that of Monsieur Bonnet delightful to me. Unless 
 I am driven away from the province, I expect to 
 pass the rest of my life here." 
 
 "We will try to give you no reason to change 
 your plan," said Madame Graslin, with a smile. 
 
 " Here," said Grossete"te to Veronique, taking 
 her aside, "are some papers the procureur-general 
 handed me; he was very much surprised that you 
 did not apply to him directly. All that you asked 
 has been done promptly and zealously. In the first 
 place, your protege will be restored to all his rights 
 as a citizen; and secondly, Catherine Curieux will 
 be sent to you within three months." 
 
 "Where is she?" Veronique asked. 
 
 "At the Saint-Louis hospital," replied the old 
 man. " They are waiting for her to be cured before 
 sending her away from Paris." 
 
 "Ah! the poor girl is ill!" 
 
 "You will find here all the information you desire," 
 said Grossetete, handing a package to Veronique.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 273 
 
 She returned to her guests to take them to the 
 superb dining-room on the ground-floor, to which she 
 led the way with Grossete"te and, Gerard, to each of 
 whom she gave an arm. She served the dinner 
 herself, taking no part in it. Since her arrival at 
 Montegnac, she had made it an invariable rule to 
 take all her meals alone, and Aline, who was the 
 only one who knew the secret of that reserve, kept 
 it religiously until the day that, her mistress was in 
 danger of death. 
 
 The mayor, the justice of the peace, and the phy- 
 sician of Montegnac had naturally been invited. 
 
 The physician, a young man of twenty-seven, 
 named Roubaud, was extremely anxious to know the 
 most famous woman in the Limousin. The cure was 
 the more pleased to introduce that young man at the 
 chateau, because he desired to form a sort of society 
 for Veronique, in order to divert her and to furnish 
 food for her mind. Roubaud was one of those thor- 
 oughly educated young doctors, of the sort that are 
 turned out to-day by the School of Medicine at Paris, 
 and would certainly have been able to make his 
 mark upon the vast stage of the capital; but, alarmed 
 by the scheming of ambitious practitioners there, 
 conscious, too, that he was better posted in medicine 
 than in intrigue, that he possessed more professional 
 skill than greed, his peaceable character had led him 
 to the narrow provincial stage, where he hoped to 
 be appreciated more speedily than in Paris. At Li- 
 moges, Roubaud jostled against habits long formed and 
 physicians whose practice was impregnable; so he 
 18
 
 274 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 allowed himself to be persuaded by Monsieur Bonnet 
 who judged from his sweet and attractive face that 
 he was one of those who ought to belong to him and 
 to co-operate in his work. 
 
 Roubaud was a small, fair-haired man, with a 
 decidedly insipid face; but his gray eyes betrayed 
 the profound meditation of the physiologist and the 
 tenacity of studious folk. Montegnac could boast 
 only of a regimental surgeon, who was more devoted 
 to his cellar than his patients, and, furthermore, 
 was too old to continue the exacting profession of 
 country doctor. At the time of which we write he 
 was dying. Roubaud had lived in Montegnac eight- 
 een months, and had made himself beloved there. 
 But the young pupil of Desplein and of the succes- 
 sors of Cabanis did not believe in Catholicism. On. 
 the subject of religion, he remained in a state of fatal 
 indifference, and did not choose to emerge from it. 
 So he drove the cure to despair; not that he did the 
 slightest harm, for he never talked religion, his occu- 
 pations justified his constant absence from church, 
 and, moreover, being quite incapable of proselyting, 
 he bore himself as the best of Catholics; but he had 
 forbidden himself to consider a problem which he 
 looked upon as beyond the reach of man. When he 
 heard the doctor say that pantheism was the religion 
 of all great minds, the cure concluded that he was 
 inclined toward the dogmas of Pythagoras concern- 
 ing transformations. 
 
 Roubaud, who then saw Madame Graslin for the 
 first time, was conscious of a most violent emotion
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 275 
 
 at her appearance; science enabled him to detect in 
 her expression, in her attitude, in her worn features, 
 incredible suffering, both mental and physical, a 
 character of superhuman strength, and the eminent 
 faculties which enable their possessor to endure the 
 most contrary vicissitudes, he saw everything, even 
 the obscure and designedly hidden spaces. And so 
 he discovered the disease that was devouring that 
 noble creature's heart; for just as the color of a fruit 
 causes us to suspect the presence of a worm, so cer- 
 tain hues of the face enable a physician to detect 
 a poisonous thought. From that moment, Monsieur 
 Roubaud became so deeply attached to Madame 
 Graslin that he was afraid of loving her beyond the 
 simple friendship permitted. Veronique's forehead, 
 her gait, and, more than all else, her glance had an 
 eloquence which men always understand, and which 
 said as emphatically that she was dead to love as 
 other women say the contrary by eloquence of a 
 contrary disposition; the doctor suddenly made a vow 
 of knightly devotion to her. He exchanged a swift 
 glance with the cure. Thereupon Monsieur Bonnet 
 said to himself: 
 
 "There is the thunderbolt that will transform 
 that poor unbeliever! Madame Graslin will be more 
 eloquent than I." 
 
 The mayor, an old countryman, agape at the 
 magnificence of that dining-room, and surprised at 
 being invited to dine with one of the richest men in 
 the department, had donned his best clothes, but 
 he was somewhat uncomfortable in them, and his
 
 276 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 mental discomfort steadily increased; Madame Gras- 
 lin, in her mourning, seemed to him an extremely 
 imposing personage, so that he was dumb. For- 
 merly a farmer at Saint-Leonard, he had purchased 
 the only habitable house in the village, and he him- 
 self cultivated the fields connected with it. Al- 
 though he knew how to read and write, he could not 
 perform the duties of his office except with the 
 assistance of the bailiff and the justice of the peace, 
 who laid out his work for him: so that he earnestly 
 desired the creation of a notarial office, in order to 
 unload the burden of his functions upon that minis- 
 terial officer; but the poverty of the canton of Mon- 
 tegnac made a notary almost useless there, and the 
 needs of the people were served by the notaries of 
 the chief town of the arrondissement. 
 
 The justice of the peace, one Clousier, was for- 
 merly an advocate at Limoges, where causes had 
 turned their backs upon him, for he attempted to put 
 in practice the excellent axiom that the lawyer is the 
 first judge of client and cause. About 1809 he ob- 
 tained the place he now held: its meagre salary af- 
 forded him a bare living. Thus he had arrived at the 
 most honorable but the most utter poverty. After a 
 residence of twenty-two years in that poor com- 
 mune, the good man had become a thorough rustic, 
 and, with the exception of his redingote, resembled 
 the farmers of the province. Beneath that semi- 
 coarse exterior, Clousier concealed a far-seeing 
 mind, devoted to lofty political meditations, but 
 fallen into an utter indifference due to his perfect
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 277 
 
 knowledge of men and their selfishness. That man, 
 who for a long time deceived the perspicacity of 
 Monsieur Bonnet, and who, in a higher sphere, 
 would have recalled the character of L'Hopital, 
 being utterly incapable of intrigue, like all men of 
 really profound mind, had at last reached the contem- 
 plative stage of the recluses of old days. Esteeming 
 himself rich, doubtless, in the privations he had 
 undergone, he allowed no consideration of self- 
 interest to act upon his mind: he knew the laws 
 and passed judgment impartially. His life, reduced 
 to the simplest necessaries, was pure and regular. 
 The peasants loved Monsieur Clousier and esteemed 
 him, because of the paternal disinterestedness with 
 which he adjusted their differences and gave them 
 his advice on the most trivial subjects. Goodman 
 Clousier, as all Montegnac called him, had had for 
 his clerk for two years past one of his nephews, a 
 young man of intelligence, who, later, contributed 
 materially to the prosperity of the canton. 
 
 The old man's face was remarkable for a broad, 
 expansive forehead. Two bushes of white hair grew 
 in disorder on each side of his bald head. His florid 
 complexion, his decided embonpoint would have led 
 one to believe, despite his sobriety, that he cultivated 
 Bacchus as ardently as Troplong and Toullier. His 
 almost inaudible voice denoted that he was a sufferer 
 from asthma. Perhaps the dry air of upper Mon- 
 tegnac had had something to do with his permanent 
 settlement in that district. He lived in a small house 
 arranged for his occupancy by a cobbler of some
 
 278 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 means, to whom it belonged. Clousier had pre- 
 viously seen Veronique at church and had made up 
 his mind concerning her, but had not communicated 
 his ideas to anyone, not even to Monsieur Bonnet, 
 with whom he was beginning to become somewhat 
 intimate. For the first time in his life, the justice 
 of the peace was with people who were capable of 
 understanding him. 
 
 When they were seated around a handsomely ap- 
 pointed table, for Veronique had had all her furniture 
 sent from Limoges to Montegnac, these six persons 
 experienced a momentary embarrassment. The doctor, 
 the mayor, and the justice of the peace knew neither 
 Grossetete nor Gerard. But, during the first course, 
 the old banker's good humor gradually melted the 
 ice of a first meeting. Then, too, Madame Graslin's 
 amiable manner drew out Gerard and encouraged 
 Monsieur Roubaud. Skilfully handled by her, those 
 minds, stored with excellent qualities, recognized 
 their kinship. Everyone soon felt that he was in 
 sympathetic surroundings. So that, when the des- 
 sert came on, when the glasses and the gilt-edged 
 porcelain gleamed in the candle-light, when choice 
 wines passed around the board, served by Aline, 
 Champion, and Grossetete's servant, the conversa- 
 tion became sufficiently general for those four first- 
 rate men, brought together by chance, to exchange 
 their real thoughts concerning the important matters 
 which people love to discuss when they feel that they 
 are all speaking in good faith. 
 
 " Your furlough coincided with the revolution of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 279 
 
 July," said Grossette to Gerard, in a tone which 
 seemed to ask him for his opinion of that event. 
 
 "Yes," replied the engineer. "I was in Paris 
 during the three famous days, I saw everything; I 
 formed some rather depressing conclusions." 
 
 "What were they?" said Monsieur Bonnet, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "There is no patriotism nowadays except under 
 soiled shirts," rejoined Gerard. " There is the mis- 
 fortune of France. July was the voluntary over- 
 throw of those men who are superior in name, for- 
 tune, and talent. The enthusiastic masses carried 
 the day over the rich and intelligent classes to whom 
 enthusiasm is antipathetic." 
 
 " To judge from what has happened since a year 
 ago," added Monsieur Clousier, the justice of the 
 peace, "that change is a premium offered to the 
 evil that is devouring us, individualism. Fifteen 
 years hence, every generous question will be trans- 
 lated: ' W 'hat difference does it make to me ?' the great 
 cry of free-will, descended from the religious heights 
 to which Luther, Calvin, Zwingle, and Knox raised 
 it in political economy. 'Chacun pour soi; chacun 
 che^ soi,'* those two horrible phrases, form, with the 
 ' W 'hat difference does it make to me?' the trinity of 
 wise precepts of the bourgeois and small landed pro- 
 prietor. This selfishness is the result of the vices of 
 
 * Literally, " every one for himself ; every one at home." These phrases are 
 contemptuously regarded as being the maxims of a selfish and narrow-minded 
 national policy. The latter, 'cbacun cbe% sot,' is particularly odious, Implying 
 that France should let other nations pull themselves out of the mire while she 
 should look on with indifference.
 
 280 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 our civil legislation, which was enacted a little too 
 hurriedly, and received a terrible consecration in the 
 revolution of July." 
 
 The justice of the peace relapsed into his custom- 
 ary silence after that speech, which was well adapted 
 to furnish food for thought to the guests. Embold- 
 ened by Clousier's words and by the look which 
 Gerard and Grossete'te exchanged, Monsieur Bonnet 
 ventured to go still further. 
 
 " The good King Charles X.," he said, "failed in 
 the most far-sighted and salutary enterprise that a 
 monarch ever conceived for the welfare of the people 
 entrusted to his care, and the Church may well be 
 proud of her part in his councils. But courage and 
 intelligence failed the upper classes, just as they had 
 failed them before, concerning the great question of 
 the law of primogeniture, the everlasting honor of the 
 only courageous statesman of the Restoration, the 
 Comte de Peyronnet. To reconstitute the nation by 
 the family, to take away from the press its venom- 
 ous activity by limiting its privileges to that of being 
 useful, to compel the elective Chamber to confine 
 itself to its proper attributes, to restore to religion 
 its power over the people, such were the four car- 
 dinal points of the domestic policy of the house of 
 Bourbon. And, twenty years hence, all France will 
 have recognized the necessity of that grand and 
 healthy policy. King Charles X. was, moreover, 
 more threatened in the position which he proposed 
 to abandon, than in that wherein his paternal power 
 perished. The future of our fair country, where
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 28 1 
 
 everything will be periodically discussed, where dis- 
 cussion will constantly take the place of action, 
 where the press, become the sovereign power, will 
 be the instrument of the vilest ambitions, will demon- 
 strate the wisdom of that king who has carried away 
 with him the true principles of government, and his- 
 tory will give him credit for the courage with which 
 he resisted his best friends after he had probed the 
 sore, had realized its extent and the necessity of 
 those curative methods which were not upheld by 
 those in whose interest he threw himself into the 
 breach." 
 
 " Well, well, monsieur le cure, you go to the point 
 frankly and without the slightest disguise," cried 
 Gerard; " but I will not contradict you. Napoleon, 
 in his Russian campaign, was forty years ahead of 
 the spirit of his age; he was not understood. The 
 Russia and the England of 1830 explain the campaign 
 of 1812. Charles X. suffered from the same misfor- 
 tune; twenty -five years hence his ordinances may 
 become laws." 
 
 "France," rejoined the justice of the peace, "a 
 too eloquent country not to be inclined to talk too 
 much, too full of vanity to enable one to discover 
 its real talents, is, notwithstanding the sublime 
 good sense of its language and the masses of its 
 people, the last country in the world in which the 
 system of two deliberative assemblies should be 
 adopted. At the very least, the disadvantages of 
 our character should be neutralized by the admirable 
 restrictions which Napoleon's experience led him to
 
 282 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 introduce. That system may still work well in a 
 country whose action is circumscribed by the nature 
 of its boundaries, as in England; but the law of 
 primogeniture, as applied to the descent of real 
 estate, is always essential, and when that law is set 
 aside, the representative system becomes sheer non- 
 sense. England owes its existence to the quasi- 
 feudal law which hands down the real estate and 
 the family homestead to the eldest son. Russia is 
 founded upon the feudal law of autocracy. So that 
 those two nations are making appallingly rapid prog- 
 ress to-day. Austria was able to resist our invasion 
 and to renew the war against Napoleon solely by 
 virtue of that same law of primogeniture, which 
 keeps the family influences at work and maintains 
 intact the great landed estates that are so essential 
 to the welfare of the State. The house of Bourbon, 
 feeling that it was being forced back into the third 
 rank of European powers through the fault of liber- 
 alism, tried to hold its place, and the country over- 
 threw it at the very moment that it was saving the 
 country. I do not know how far down the present 
 system will carry us." 
 
 " If war comes, France will be without horses as 
 Napoleon was in 1813, when, being reduced to the 
 product of France alone, he was unable to take ad- 
 vantage of the victories of Lutzen and Bautzen, and 
 was crushed at Leipsic !" cried Grossetete. " If 
 peace continues, the evil will increase all the time: 
 in twenty-five years cattle and horses will have 
 diminished by half in France."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 283 
 
 "Monsieur Grossete"te is right," said Gerard. 
 "And so, madame," he added, addressing Veronique, 
 "the work which you propose to undertake here 
 will be a great service to the country." 
 
 "Yes," said the justice of the peace, "because 
 madame has only one son. Will that fortunate con- 
 dition of things be perpetuated? During a consider- 
 able number of years, the great and magnificent 
 stock-farm which you will succeed, let us hope, in 
 establishing here, belonging to a single person, will 
 continue to produce horses and horned beasts. But, 
 in spite of everything, the day will come when 
 forests and fields will be either divided or sold in 
 lots. By successive subdivisions, the six thousand 
 acres of your plain will eventually belong to a thou- 
 sand or twelve hundred owners, and then no more 
 horses or cattle." 
 
 " Oh! when that time comes " began the mayor. 
 
 " Do you hear the 'What difference does it make to 
 me ?' that Monsieur Clousier referred to?" cried Mon- 
 sieur Grossete"te; "there it is, caught in the act. 
 Why, monsieur," he added, in a serious tone, ad- 
 dressing the stupefied mayor, "that time has come! 
 Within a radius of ten leagues around Paris the 
 country has been so divided and subdivided that 
 it will scarcely furnish pasturage for milch cows. 
 The commune of Argenteuil contains thirty-eight 
 thousand eight hundred and eighty-five distinct 
 parcels of land, some of which do not yield fifteen 
 centimes a year! If it were not for the rich manure 
 they get from Paris, which enables them to raise
 
 284 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 fodder of superior quality, I don't see how the milk- 
 men could get along. Even as it is now, that rich 
 food and keeping the cows in the shed make them 
 subject to inflammatory troubles. Cows are used 
 up in the neighborhood of Paris, just as horses are 
 used up in the streets. Crops more lucrative than 
 hay vegetables, fruit, nurseries, vineyards are 
 reducing the grass-fields to infinitesimal proportions. 
 A few years more and milk will come to Paris by 
 the mail-coach as fish comes now. The same 
 thing that is taking place around Paris is taking 
 place in the outskirts of all the large cities. The 
 evil of the excessive subdivision of estates prevails 
 around a hundred cities in France, and will soon 
 consume it altogether. According to Chaptal, there 
 were, in 1800, hardly two million hectares in vine- 
 yards; accurate statistics would show at least ten 
 millions to-day. Subdivided ad infinitum by our 
 system of succession, Normandie will lose half of 
 its output of horses and cattle; but it will have a 
 monopoly in milk in Paris, for its climate is fortu- 
 nately opposed to the cultivation of the vine. The 
 constant rise in the price of meat will be a curious 
 phenomenon. In 1850, twenty years hence, Paris, 
 which paid from seven to eleven sous a pound in 
 1814, will pay twenty sous, unless a man comes for- 
 ward who is able to carry out the idea of Charles X." 
 ' ' You have put your finger on the great sore of 
 France," said the justice of the peace. " The cause 
 of the trouble is to be found in the title Successions 
 of the Civil Code, which provides for the equal
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 285 
 
 distribution of property. There is the pestle whose 
 constant working crumbles up the territory, indi- 
 vidualizes fortunes by depriving them of the neces- 
 sary stability, and, by disintegrating without ever 
 reconstructing, will end by destroying France. The 
 French Revolution emitted a destructive virus to 
 which the three days of July have imparted renewed 
 activity. That morbific principle is the accession of 
 the peasant to land-ownership. If the chapter of Suc- 
 cessions is the active principle of the disease, the peas- 
 ant is its means of contagion. The peasant gives 
 back no part of what he has gained. When that ogre 
 has once taken a parcel of land in his always open 
 maw, he subdivides it so long as three furrows 
 remain. Even then he doesn't stop! He divides the 
 three furrows in their length, as monsieur has just 
 shown you by the example of the commune of 
 Argenteuil. The absurd value that the peasant 
 attaches to the smallest parcels makes the recon- 
 stitution of the original estate impossible. In the 
 first place, law and procedure are annulled by this 
 subdivision, property becomes an absurdity. But it 
 is nothing to see the treasury and the law lose their 
 power over parcels which make their wisest pro- 
 visions of no effect; there are much greater evils 
 than that. There are landed proprietors with in- 
 comes of fifteen and twenty -five centimes! Mon- 
 sieur," said Clousier, pointing to Grossete'te, "has 
 spoken of the diminution of horses and cattle: the 
 present laws are responsible for a great part of it. 
 The peasant proprietor has nothing but cows, he
 
 286 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 gets his living from them, he sells calves, he sells 
 butter; it does not occur to him to raise oxen, much 
 less horses, but, as he never raises enough fodder to 
 carry him through a year of drought, he sends his 
 cows to market when he can no longer feed them. 
 If, by a fatal chance, the hay-crop should fail two 
 years in succession, you would see extraordinary 
 changes in the price of beef, and even more in the 
 price of veal, in Paris, during the third year." 
 
 " In that case, how shall we be able to give patri- 
 otic banquets?" said the doctor, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh!" cried Madame Graslin, with a glance at 
 Roubaud, " cannot politics dispense with the petty 
 newspaper anywhere, even here?" 
 
 "The bourgeoisie," continued Clousier, "play 
 the part of the American pioneer in this horrible 
 condition of affairs. They purchase great estates, 
 with which the peasant can do nothing, and divide 
 them up among themselves; then, after they have 
 been well masticated and subdivided, sales by auc- 
 tion in small lots turn them over to the peasant 
 sooner or later. Everything is expressed in figures 
 to-day. I know none more eloquent than these: 
 France contains forty-nine millions of hectares which 
 it would be advisable to reduce to forty; we must 
 subtract from it the main highways and other roads, 
 sand-dunes, canals, unproductive and wild land, and 
 land deserted by capital, like the plain of Montegnac. 
 Now, in these forty millions of hectares for thirty- 
 two million inhabitants, there are one hundred and 
 twenty-five millions of separate parcels on the list of
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 287 
 
 taxed estates. I have omitted fractions. Thus we 
 have gone beyond the agrarian law and we are not 
 at the end either of destitution or discord ! The men 
 who divide the land into crumbs and diminish pro- 
 duction will have organs to cry out that true social 
 justice would consist in not giving to anyone more 
 than the usufruct of his estate. They will say that 
 perpetual ownership is a theft! The Saint-Simonians 
 have made a beginning." 
 
 "The magistrate has spoken," said Grossete"te; 
 "this is what the banker has to add to his coura- 
 geous observations. The throwing open of land 
 ownership to the peasant and the petty bourgeois 
 has done France an immense injury which the gov- 
 ernment does not even suspect. We may reckon 
 at three millions of families the great bulk of the 
 peasantry, making due allowance for paupers. Those 
 families live on wages. Wages are paid in money 
 instead of in kind " 
 
 "Another tremendous mistake in our laws!" cried 
 Clousier, interrupting him. " The right to pay in 
 kind could be established in 1790; but to pass such 
 a law to-day would be to risk a revolution." 
 
 "And so," continued Grossetete, " the proletariat 
 attracts all the money of the country. Now the 
 peasant has no other passion, no other longing, no 
 other wish, no other aim, than to die a landed pro- 
 prietor. That desire, as Monsieur Clousier has well 
 set forth, was born of the Revolution; it is the result 
 of the sale of national property. One can have no 
 idea of what is going on in the heart of the country
 
 288 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 districts, not to admit as a constant fact, that those 
 three millions of families hoard up fifty francs each 
 annually, and thus remove a hundred and fifty 
 millions of money from circulation. The science 
 of political economy has placed in the category of 
 axioms the fact that a five-franc piece, which passes 
 through a hundred hands in a day, is positively the 
 equivalent of five hundred francs. Now, it is cer- 
 tain to us old observers of the state of the coun- 
 try districts, that the peasant selects his land; he 
 watches it and attends to it, and never invests his cap- 
 ital. Purchases by peasants should be calculated by 
 periods of seven years. Thus peasants leave eleven 
 hundred millions unproductive and quiescent for 
 seven years; but, as the petty bourgeoisie hoards 
 as much more and acts in the same way with regard 
 to estates which are out of the peasant's reach, in 
 forty-two years France loses the interest on at least 
 two billions, that is to say, about a hundred millions 
 in seven years or six hundred millions in forty-two 
 years. But it does not lose simply those six hun- 
 dred millions, for it has failed to invest six hundred 
 millions in industrial or agricultural enterprises, 
 which failure represents a loss of twelve hundred 
 millions; for if the industrial product were not worth 
 twice its net cost in cash, commerce could not exist. 
 The common people deprive themselves of six hun- 
 dred millions in wages! Those six hundred millions 
 of clear loss which, to a strict economist, repre- 
 sent a loss of about twelve hundred millions because 
 of the benefit that would be derived from having the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 289 
 
 money in circulation explain the inferior condition 
 of our commerce, our agriculture, and our navy, 
 compared with those of England. Notwithstanding 
 the difference between the respective possessions of 
 the two countries, a difference in our favor in the 
 ratio of more than two to one, England could equip 
 the cavalry for two French army corps, and enough 
 fresh meat is produced there for the whole world. 
 But in that country, as the tax on real estate makes 
 its acquisition almost impossible for the lower classes, 
 every piece of money goes into business and circu- 
 lates. Thus, in addition to the curse of excessive 
 subdivision of estates and that of the diminution of 
 the output of cattle, horses, and sheep, the chapter 
 on Successions is also responsible for a loss of six 
 hundred millions by the hoarding of the capital of 
 the peasant and bourgeois, twelve hundred millions 
 in curtailment of production, or three billions of non- 
 circulation in a half-century!" 
 
 "The moral effect is worse than the material 
 effect!" cried the cure. "We manufacture land- 
 owners who go about begging among the people, 
 semi-learned men among the petty bourgeois; and 
 the 'Chacun che^ soi; chacun pour soi,' which had 
 produced its effect upon the upper classes in July of 
 last year, will soon have infected the middle classes. 
 A proletariat accustomed to do without feelings, with 
 no other god than envy, with no other fanaticism 
 than the despair caused by hunger, without faith or 
 belief, will come forward and put its foot on the 
 country's heart. The stranger, grown great under
 
 2QO THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 monarchical institutions, will find us with a kingdom 
 but no king, with legality but no laws, with property 
 but no proprietors, with elections but no govern- 
 ment, with freedom of will but no strength, with 
 equality but no happiness. Let us hope that, ere 
 that day comes, God will raise up a providential 
 man in France, one of those elect who impart a new 
 spirit to nations; and that, whether he be a Marius 
 or a Sylla, whether he rises from below or descends 
 from above, he will remodel society." 
 
 "We shall begin by sending him to the police 
 court or the assizes," rejoined Gerard. " The judg- 
 ment of Socrates and that of Jesus Christ would be 
 given against him in 1831, as in the old days at 
 Jerusalem and in Attica. To-day, as formerly, 
 jealous mediocrities leave thinkers to die in their 
 poverty, although they are the great political physi- 
 cians who have studied the diseases of France, and 
 who hold out against the spirit of their age. If they 
 do not succumb to want, we turn them to ridicule or 
 treat them as dreamers. In France it is fashionable 
 to rebel against the great man of the future in the 
 moral order, just as it is to rebel against the sov- 
 ereign in the political order." 
 
 " In the old days the sophists spoke to a small 
 number of men only; to-day the periodical press 
 enables them to lead a whole nation astray," cried 
 the justice of the peace; "and the portion of the 
 press that pleads for common sense finds no echo!" 
 
 The mayor gazed at Monsieur Clousier in profound 
 amazement. Madame Graslin, overjoyed to find in
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 291 
 
 a simple justice of the peace a man whose mind was 
 bent upon such serious questions, said to Monsieur 
 Roubaud, her neighbor: 
 
 " Would you know Monsieur Clousier?" 
 
 " I did not really know him until to-day. Madame, 
 you perform miracles!" he said in her ear. " But 
 look at his forehead: what a beautiful shape! Does 
 it not resemble the classic or traditional forehead 
 given by sculptors to Lycurgus and the sages of 
 Greece? Evidently the revolution of July has an 
 anti-political meaning," he said, aloud, having di- 
 gested the figures given by Grossetete, that former 
 student, who might, perhaps, have helped throw up 
 a barricade. 
 
 " It has a threefold meaning," said Clousier. 
 " You have covered its bearing upon law and finance, 
 but this is what it has to say concerning the govern- 
 ment. The royal power, weakened by the dogma 
 of national sovereignty, by virtue of which the elec- 
 tion of August 9, 1830, was held, will try to combat 
 that rival principle, which would leave to the people 
 the right to give themselves a new dynasty when- 
 ever they fail to grasp the purpose of their king: and 
 we shall have an internal struggle which certainly 
 will arrest the progress of France for a long time to 
 come." 
 
 " All these reefs have been wisely avoided by 
 England," observed Gerard; "I have been there, 
 and I admire that beehive which sends forth its 
 swarms over the universe and civilizes it; where 
 discussion is a political comedy intended to satisfy
 
 292 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the people and to conceal the action of the govern- 
 ment, which enjoys perfect freedom of motion in its 
 high sphere; and where elections are not in the 
 hands of the stupid middle class, as they are in 
 France. With the parcelling out of real estate, Eng- 
 land would have ceased to exist ere this. The great 
 land-owners, the peers, manage the social mechan- 
 ism there. Their navy seizes upon whole slices of 
 the globe, in the teeth of all Europe, to satisfy the 
 needs of their commerce and to provide places to put 
 the unfortunate and the discontented. Instead of 
 making war on men of capacity, of thrusting them 
 out of sight, of underrating them, the English aris- 
 tocracy constantly seeks them out, rewards them 
 and assimilates them. Among the English, speedy 
 action is the rule in everything relating to the govern- 
 ment, in the choice of men and things, whereas with 
 us everything is slow; and by nature they are slow 
 and we are impatient. With them money is enter- 
 prising and busy; with us it is timid and suspicious. 
 What Monsieur Grossetete says of the industrial 
 losses which the peasant causes France is con- 
 firmed by a picture which I will draw for you in two 
 words. English capital, by its continual movement, 
 has created industrial values and shares yielding in- 
 come to the amount of ten billions, whereas French 
 capital, superior in point of abundance, has not 
 created a tenth part of that amount." 
 
 "That is the more extraordinary," said Roubaud, 
 " because they are naturally sluggish, and we, as a 
 general rule, are impulsive or nervous."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 293 
 
 " There is a great question to be studied, mon- 
 sieur," said Clousier: " To discover what institutions 
 are best fitted to hold the temperament of a people 
 in check. Cromwell was unquestionably a great 
 legislator. He alone made the England of to-day by 
 devising the Navigation Act, which made the English 
 the enemies of all other nations, which inoculated 
 them with a fierce national pride, their mainstay. 
 But, notwithstanding their fortress of Malta, if 
 France and Russia should comprehend some day the 
 possibilities of the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, 
 the route through Asia by way of Egypt, or by way 
 of the Euphrates, perfected by means of new discov- 
 eries, will kill England, just as the discovery of the 
 Cape of Good Hope killed Venice." 
 
 "And God counts for nothing!" cried the cure. 
 " Monsieur Clousier and Monsieur Roubaud are indif- 
 ferent in the matter of religion. And monsieur?" 
 he said, in a questioning tone, to Gerard. 
 
 "Protestant," Grossete'te replied. 
 
 "You guessed as much!" cried Veronique, look- 
 ing at the cure, as she offered her hand to Clousier 
 to go up to her own apartments. 
 
 The unfavorable impression created by Gerard's 
 exterior was speedily dissipated, and the three nota- 
 bles of Montegnac congratulated themselves on such 
 an acquisition. 
 
 "Unfortunately," said Monsieur Bonnet, "there 
 exists between Russia and the Catholic countries 
 washed by the Mediterranean a cause of antagonism 
 in the unimportant schism which separates the
 
 294 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Greek Church from the Latin Church, a great mis- 
 fortune for the future of mankind." 
 
 " Everyone preaches for his own saint," said 
 Madame Graslin, with a smile. " Monsieur Grosse- 
 te"te thinks of the billions thrown away; Monsieur 
 Clousier, of the overturning of the law; the physi- 
 cian sees in legislation a question of temperaments; 
 monsieur le cure sees in religion an obstacle to a 
 perfect understanding between Russia and France." 
 
 "Add, madame," said Gerard, "that I see in the 
 locking up of capital by the petty bourgeoisie and the 
 peasantry the postponement of the building of rail- 
 roads in France." 
 
 " What would you have, pray?" she said. 
 
 " Oh! the admirable councillors of State, who, 
 under the Empire, devised the laws, and the Corps 
 Legislatif, chosen by the talented men of the country 
 as well as by the land-owners, and whose only func- 
 tion was to oppose bad laws and wars based upon 
 caprice! As it is constituted to-day, the Chamber of 
 Deputies, as you will see, will come to be the gov- 
 erning power, and the result will be anarchy under 
 the forms of law." 
 
 " O my God !" cried the cure, in a burst of devout 
 patriotism, "how does it happen that such enlight- 
 ened minds as these" and he pointed to Clousier, 
 Roubaud, and Gerard " see the evil, point out the 
 remedy, yet do not begin by applying it to them- 
 selves? All of you who represent the classes as- 
 sailed recognize the necessity of passive obedience 
 of the masses in the State, as among soldiers in war;
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 295 
 
 you desire unity of power, and you desire that it 
 should never be brought in question. What England 
 has obtained by the development of pride and 
 human selfishness, which are a sort of faith, can be 
 obtained here in France only by the sentiments 
 inspired by Catholicism, and you are not Catholics! 
 I, priest as I am, lay aside my proper character, I 
 argue with arguers. How can you expect that the 
 masses will become religious and obey, if they see 
 irreligion and insubordination above them? A people 
 united by a faith of any sort will always win an 
 easy victory over men of no faith. The law of 
 the general welfare, which engenders patriotism, is 
 instantly destroyed by the law of private interests, 
 which it justifies, and which engenders egotism. 
 Nothing is solid and enduring, save that which is 
 natural, and the natural thing in politics is the 
 family. The family should be the starting-point of 
 all institutions. A universal effect proves the exist- 
 ence of a universal cause; and the defects that you 
 have pointed to on all sides come from the social 
 principle itself, which is without strength because it 
 has taken free-will for its basis, and free-will is the 
 father of individualism. To make happiness depend 
 upon the safety, the intelligence, the capacity of all 
 is not so wise as to make it depend upon the safety 
 and intelligence of our institutions and the capacity 
 of a single man. It is an easier matter to find 
 wisdom in one man than in a whole nation. Nations 
 have hearts but no eyes, they feel and do not see. 
 Governments ought to see, and never be swayed by
 
 296 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 sentiment. There is, therefore, an evident contra- 
 diction between the first impulses of the masses and 
 the action of the ruling power, which should estab- 
 lish its strength and its unity. To fall in with a 
 great prince is a result of chance, to use your lan- 
 guage; but to trust to any assembly whatsoever, 
 even though it be composed of honorable men, is 
 madness. France is mad at this moment! Alas! 
 you are convinced of it as well as I. If all men of 
 good faith, like yourselves, should set the example 
 to those about them, if all intelligent hands should 
 help to exalt the altars of the great republic of souls, 
 of the only Church that has led mankind in the 
 right path, we might see again in France the mira- 
 cles that our ancestors performed here." 
 
 "What would you have, monsieur le cure?" 
 said Gerard; " if I must speak to you as if I were in 
 the confessional, I look upon faith as a lie that a 
 man tells himself, hope as a lie that he tells himself 
 concerning the future, and your charity as the strat- 
 agem of a child who behaves himself in order to get 
 some cake." 
 
 " And yet one sleeps very peacefully, monsieur," 
 said Madame Graslin, "when hope smoothes the 
 pillow." 
 
 Those words silenced Roubaud, who was about to 
 speak, and they were approved by a glance from 
 Grossete"te and the cure. 
 
 " Is it our fault," said Clousier, " if Jesus Christ 
 had not time to found a government in accordance 
 with his moral system, as Moses did and Confucius,
 
 MADAME GRASLIN, CATHERINE, AND 
 MONSIEUR GROSSETETE 
 
 "Here is your protegee" said the old man, pre- 
 senting to Veronique a woman of about thirty years 
 of age, ill and weak. 
 
 " You are Catherine Curieux ? " said Veronique. 
 
 "Yes, madame" 
 
 Veronique looked at her for a moment.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 297 
 
 the two greatest human legislators? for the Jews 
 and the Chinese exist to-day as nations, the former, 
 notwithstanding their dispersion over the face of the 
 earth; the latter, notwithstanding their isolation." 
 
 "Ah! you give me plenty of work to do," cried 
 the cure, ingenuously; " but I will triumph, I will 
 convert you all ! You are nearer to having faith 
 than you imagine. Truth crouches behind false- 
 hood; go forward a step and turn about!" 
 
 At that cry from the cure, the conversation took 
 a different turn. 
 
 The next day, before taking his leave, Monsieur 
 Grossetete promised Veronique to become a partner 
 in her projects as soon as their realization should be 
 decided to be possible. Madame Graslin and Gerard 
 rode beside his carriage and did not leave him until 
 they reached the junction of the Montegnac road 
 and the road from Bordeaux to Lyon. The en- 
 gineer was so impatient to go over the ground and 
 Veronique so desirous to show it to him, that they 
 had planned the excursion the day before. Hav- 
 ing bade the excellent old man farewell, they rode 
 across the vast moor and skirted the base of the 
 chain of hills, from the slope leading up to the 
 chateau to the peak of the Roche-Wve. The en- 
 gineer at once detected the continuous bank de- 
 scribed by Farrabesche, which formed, as it were, 
 the last layer of the foundation of the hills. Thus, 
 by directing the streams so that they would not 
 overflow the indestructible canal that nature had 
 itself made, and clearing it of the earth that had
 
 298 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 choked it up, the work of irrigation would be facili- 
 tated by that long conduit, raised about ten feet 
 above the level of the plain. The first calculation, 
 and the only decisive one to be made, was of the 
 quantity of water that flowed through the Gabou; 
 and it was advisable also to make sure whether 
 the sides of the valley would allow the water to 
 escape. 
 
 Veronique gave Farrabesche a horse and bade 
 him accompany the engineer and point out to him 
 everything he had noticed, to the most trifling de- 
 tail. After a few days' study, Gerard found that 
 the bases of the two parallel chains, although of 
 different composition, were sufficiently solid to hold 
 back the water. During the month of January, 
 which was rainy, he estimated the quantity of water 
 carried down by the Gabou. That quantity, in- 
 creased by the supply from three springs which 
 could be turned into the stream, was sufficient to 
 irrigate an area three times greater than that of 
 the plain of Montegnac. The damming of the 
 Gabou, the construction of the works required to 
 direct the water through the three valleys to the 
 plain, would not cost more than sixty thousand 
 francs, for the engineer discovered in the common 
 lands a calcareous deposit which would furnish 
 lime at a small expense, and the forest was close 
 at hand: stone and wood cost nothing and required 
 no outlay for carting. Pending the arrival of the 
 season when the Gabou would be dry, the only 
 time when these works could be undertaken, the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 299 
 
 necessary materials could be laid in and prepara- 
 tions made, so that the main work could go for- 
 ward rapidly. But the preparation of the plain to 
 receive the water would cost, in Gerard's opinion, 
 at least two hundred thousand francs, not including 
 sowing or planting. The plain would have to be 
 divided into rectangular plots of two hundred and 
 fifty acres each, where the ground was not to be 
 cleared, but only the largest stones removed. Ditch- 
 ers would have to be employed to dig a great num- 
 ber of ditches and stone them, so that the water 
 would not run off and could be made to flow or rise 
 at will. That work required the active and faithful 
 arms of conscientious laborers. Chance afforded a 
 location without obstacles, a level plain; the water, 
 which had a fall of ten feet, could be distributed 
 at pleasure; there was nothing to stand in the way 
 of obtaining the most satisfactory results, from an 
 agricultural standpoint, producing magnificent carpets 
 of verdure, like those which are the pride and the 
 fortune of Lombardy. Gerard sent to the province 
 in which he had previously been stationed for an old 
 and experienced assistant engineer, named Fresquin. 
 Madame Graslin wrote to Grossette to negotiate 
 for her a loan of two hundred and fifty thousand 
 francs, secured by her stock in the public funds, 
 the income of which, if allowed to accumulate for 
 six years, would suffice, according to Gerard's cal- 
 culations, to pay principal and interest. The loan 
 was negotiated in March. Gerard's plans, formu- 
 lated with the assistance of Fresquin, were by that
 
 300 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 time entirely perfected, as well as the taking of 
 levels, soundings, observations, and drawings. The 
 news of that vast undertaking, being circulated 
 through the whole district, had stimulated the 
 poorer part of the population. The indefatigable 
 Farrabesche, Colorat, Clousier, the Mayor of Mon- 
 tegnac, Roubaud, all those who were interested in 
 the welfare of the canton or in Madame Graslin, 
 selected workmen for her, or pointed out poor men 
 who deserved to be employed. Gerard purchased, 
 on his own account and Monsieur Grossetete's, a 
 thousand acres on the other side of the Montegnac 
 road. Fresquin, the assistant, also took five hun- 
 dred acres and sent for his wife and children to 
 come to Montegnac. 
 
 In the early part of April, 1833, Monsieur Grosse- 
 te"te came to inspect the land purchased by Gerard; 
 but his visit to Montegnac was due mainly to the ar- 
 rival of Catherine Curieux, whom Madame Graslin 
 was expecting, and who had come from Paris to 
 Limoges by diligence. He found Madame Graslin 
 about to start for church. Monsieur Bonnet was 
 to say mass to invoke Heaven's blessing upon the 
 work about to begin. All the laborers, all the 
 women and children were present. 
 
 " Here is your protegee," said the old man, pre- 
 senting to Veronique a woman of about thirty years 
 of age, ill and weak. 
 
 "You are Catherine Curieux?" said Veronique. 
 
 " Yes, madame." 
 
 Veronique looked at her for a moment. She saw
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 301 
 
 a tall, well-built, fair-haired girl, with features of 
 extreme gentleness, nor was their expression contra- 
 dicted by the lovely gray tint of her eyes. The 
 contour of the face, the shape of the forehead, were 
 of a noble cast, at once august and simple, which 
 is sometimes seen in the country in very young 
 girls, a sort of flower of beauty, which hard work 
 in the fields, the never-ending cares of housekeep- 
 ing, exposure to the sun, and lack of proper care, 
 cause them to lose with terrifying rapidity. Her 
 attitude denoted that ease of movement which char- 
 acterizes country girls, to which habits involuntarily 
 adopted in Paris gave additional charm. If she had 
 remained in La Correze, Catherine would certainly 
 have been already wrinkled and worn; her coloring, 
 formerly brilliant, would have become coarse; but 
 Paris, while lessening her color, had preserved her 
 beauty; sickness, fatigue, grief, had endowed her 
 with the mysterious gifts of melancholy, with that 
 secret depth of thought which is lacking in unfor- 
 tunate country-folk, accustomed to an almost ani- 
 mal life. Her costume, marked by the Parisian 
 good taste, of which all women, even the least 
 coquettish, learn the secret so quickly, distinguished 
 her even more from the ordinary peasant. Ignorant 
 as she was of what her fate was to be, and having 
 no means of judging Madame Graslin's character, 
 she seemed decidedly shamefaced. 
 
 " Do you still love Farrabesche?" Madame Graslin 
 asked her, when Grossete"te had left them alone for 
 a time.
 
 302 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "Yes, madame," she replied, with a blush. 
 
 "Why, if you cared enough for him to send him 
 a thousand francs while he was undergoing his pun- 
 ishment, did you not go to meet him when he was 
 released? Have you any feeling of repugnance for 
 him? Speak to me as to your mother. Were you 
 afraid that he had become altogether bad, that he no 
 longer cared for you?" 
 
 " No, madame; but I couldn't read or write; I 
 was working for a very exacting old lady, and she 
 fell sick so that she had to be nursed, and I had 
 to nurse her. Although I had figured that the day 
 for Jacques to be discharged was approaching, I 
 wasn't able to leave Paris until after the death of 
 that lady, who left me nothing in spite of my de- 
 votion to her interests and her person. Before 
 coming back, I was anxious to be cured of a trouble 
 caused by loss of sleep and the hard work I had done. 
 After I had used up all my savings, I had to make 
 up my mind to go to the Saint-Louis hospital, and I 
 have just been discharged, cured." 
 
 "Very good, my child," said Madame Graslin, 
 touched by that simple explanation. " But tell me, 
 now, why you deserted your parents without warn- 
 ing, why you left your child, why you have never 
 sent any word to them or asked someone to write." 
 
 For all reply, Catherine wept. 
 
 "Madame, "she said, at last, reassured by the 
 pressure of Veronique's hand, "I do not know 
 whether I was wrong, but it was beyond my 
 strength to remain in the province. I did not
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 303 
 
 doubt myself, but other people; 1 was afraid of 
 the gossip and idle talk. So long as Jacques was 
 in danger here, I was necessary to him; but when 
 he had gone, I felt as if I were helpless. To be 
 an unmarried girl, with a child and no husband ! 
 the vilest creature would have been better than I. 
 I do not know what would have become of me, 
 if I had heard the slightest word against Benjamin 
 or his father. I should have killed myself, I should 
 .have gone mad. My father or mother might have 
 reproached me in a moment of anger. I am too 
 quick-tempered to endure a reproach or an insult, 
 mild as I am! I have been well punished, for I have 
 never been able to see my child, although I have 
 not passed a single day without thinking of him ! I 
 wanted to be forgotten, and I was. No one has 
 thought of me. They have believed that I was dead, 
 and yet I have often longed to leave everything 
 and come here to pass a day, to see my child " 
 
 " See, Catherine, there is your child !" 
 
 Catherine spied Benjamin, and shivered as if she 
 had the ague. 
 
 "Benjamin," said Madame Graslin, "come and 
 kiss your mother." 
 
 "My mother?" cried Benjamin, in surprise. 
 
 He leaped upon Catherine's neck, and she pressed 
 him to her heart with fierce strength. But the 
 child made his escape and ran away, crying: 
 
 " I am going to look for him! " 
 
 Madame Graslin, as she was assisting Catherine, 
 who was almost swooning, to a seat, spied Monsieur
 
 304 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Bonnet, and could not restrain a blush when she 
 received from her confessor a piercing glance that 
 read her inmost thoughts. 
 
 " I hope, monsieur le cure," she said, trembling, 
 "that you will marry Catherine and Farrabesche 
 promptly? Do you not recognize Monsieur Bonnet, 
 my child? He will tell you that Farrabesche, since 
 his return, has borne himself like an honest man; 
 he has the esteem of the whole neighborhood; and 
 if there is a place in the world where you can live, 
 happily and well-considered, Montegnac is the place. 
 God willing, you will make your fortune here, for 
 you will be my farmers. Farrabesche has become 
 a citizen once more." 
 
 "All this is true, my child," said the cure. 
 
 At that moment, Farrabesche arrived, led by his 
 son; he stood pale and speechless in the presence of 
 Catherine and Madame Graslin. He realized how 
 active the kindly interest of the one had been, and 
 all that the other must have suffered in not coming 
 before. Veronique led away the cure, who, for his 
 part, was desirous to lead her away. As soon as 
 they were out of hearing, Monsieur Bonnet gazed 
 fixedly at his penitent and saw that she was blush- 
 ing; she lowered her eyes like a guilty creature. 
 
 "You degrade well-doing," he said, severely. 
 
 " How?" she asked, raising her head. 
 
 "To do good," replied Monsieur Bonnet, "is a 
 passion as superior to love, as mankind, madame, is 
 superior to the individual. Now, all this is not to be 
 accomplished by mere force and with the artlessness
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 305 
 
 of virtue. You fall from the grandeur of humanity 
 to the worship of a single creature! Your benevo- 
 lence to Farrabesche and Catherine is inspired by 
 memories and hidden motives which take away all 
 its merits in God's eyes. Tear from your heart the 
 remains of the dart that the spirit of evil planted 
 there. Do not thus deprive your good actions of 
 their value. Will you ever attain that blessed igno- 
 rance of the good you are doing, which is the crown- 
 ing grace of human actions?" 
 
 Madame Graslin had turned away to wipe her 
 eyes, but her tears told the cure that his words 
 touched a bleeding spot in her heart, where his 
 finger reopened a partly-closed wound. Farra- 
 besche, Catherine, and Benjamin came to thank 
 their benefactress; but she motioned to them to 
 go away and leave her with Monsieur Bonnet. 
 
 "You see how I grieve them!" she said, pointing 
 to their disappointed faces. 
 
 And the cure, who had a soft heart, motioned to 
 them to return. 
 
 " Be perfectly happy," she said to them. " Here 
 is the order restoring all your rights as a citizen, and 
 relieving you from the formalities that humiliated 
 you," she added, handing Farrabesche a paper that 
 she held in her hand. 
 
 Farrabesche kissed Veronique's hand respectfully, 
 and glanced at her with an expression at once affec- 
 tionate and submissive, calm and devoted, with 
 that devotion which nothing can change, like a dog's 
 for his master. 
 20
 
 306 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 " If Jacques has suffered, madame," said Cather- 
 ine, in whose beautiful eyes there was a smile, " I 
 hope to be able to give him as much happiness as he 
 has had misery; for, whatever he may have done, he 
 isn't wicked." 
 
 Madame Graslin turned away her head, she 
 seemed crushed by the sight of that family, now so 
 happy; and Monsieur Bonnet left her to go to the 
 church, whither she dragged herself along on Mon- 
 sieur Grossetete's arm. 
 
 After breakfast, they all went to witness the open- 
 ing of the works, which all the old people of Mon- 
 tegnac also came out to see. From the slope up 
 which the avenue to the chateau ran, Monsieur 
 Grossete'te and Monsieur Bonnet, with Veronique 
 between them, could see the location of the first four 
 roads to be opened, in the building of which the 
 stones taken from the plain were to be used. Five 
 men were carrying the good soil to the edge of the 
 fields, clearing a space eighteen feet wide, the width 
 fixed for each road. On each side, four men were 
 engaged in digging a ditch, with the earth from which 
 they raised an embankment along the fields. Behind 
 them came two men, digging holes in the artificial 
 banking, as it progressed, and planting trees in them. 
 In each field, thirty able-bodied paupers, twenty 
 women, and forty girls or children, in all, ninety 
 persons, were picking up stones, which the workmen 
 measured along the banking, in order to determine 
 the quantity picked up by each group. Thus all 
 branches of the work kept pace with one another,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 307 
 
 and progressed rapidly, the workmen being picked 
 men and full of zeal. Grossetete promised Madame 
 Graslin to send her some trees and to ask his friends 
 for some for her. It was evident that the chateau 
 nurseries would not furnish enough to be set out in 
 such numbers. 
 
 Toward the close of the day, which was to end 
 with a great dinner-party at the chateau, Farra- 
 besche begged Madame Graslin to grant him a 
 moment's audience. 
 
 "Madame," he said, making his appearance with 
 Catherine, " you have been kind enough to promise 
 me the chateau farm. Your purpose in granting me 
 such a favor is to give me an opportunity to save a 
 little money; but Catherine has certain ideas con- 
 cerning our future which I wish to lay before you. 
 If I make my fortune, some people will be jealous: a 
 word is quickly said, I may have disagreeable things 
 to bear, at all events I should dread them, .and Cath- 
 erine, too, would always be uneasy; in fact, we do 
 not like the idea of living near the world. So I have 
 come to ask you to give us the land to farm that lies 
 about the spot where the Gabou empties on the com- 
 mon lands, with a small part of the woods on the 
 further side of the Roche-Vive. You will have a great 
 many men at work there in July or thereabout; so 
 it will be a simple matter to build a farm-house in 
 a favorable position, on the high land. We shall 
 be happy there. I will send for Guepin. The poor 
 fellow will work like a horse. Perhaps I can find a 
 wife for him. My boy is not lazy; no one will come
 
 308 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 to look into the whites of our eyes, we will colonize 
 that little corner, and I will make it my ambition to 
 give you a fine farm there. I have a man to sug- 
 gest to you for farmer at your principal farm, a 
 cousin of Catherine's, who has some money and will 
 be better fitted than I am to carry on such an exten- 
 sive concern as that farm. If God wills that your 
 enterprise be successful, you will have in five years 
 five to six thousand cattle or horses on the moor 
 they're clearing up, and it will certainly take a 
 strong head to manage affairs." 
 
 Madame Graslin granted Farrabesche's request, 
 realizing the good sense that dictated it. 
 
 After the opening of the work on the plain, 
 Madame Graslin 's life was as regular as life in the 
 country commonly is. In the morning, she went to 
 hear mass, attended to her son, whom she idolized, 
 and went to overlook her workmen. After dinner, 
 she received her friends from Montegnac in her 
 small salon, on the first floor of the clock pavilion. 
 She taught Roubaud, Clousier, and the cure to play 
 whist, which Gerard knew. After the game, about 
 nine o'clock, everyone went home. The only 
 events in that peaceful life were the successful 
 termination of each part of the great enterprise. In 
 the month of June, the Gabou being dry, Monsieur 
 Gerard took up his quarters in the keeper's house. 
 Farrabesche's farm-house, by the Gabou, had al- 
 ready been built. Fifty masons, brought from Paris, 
 connected the two mountains by a wall twenty feet 
 in thickness upon a foundation of solid concrete
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 309 
 
 twelve feet deep. The wall, which was about sixty 
 feet high, gradually sloped from the base to the 
 crown, where it was only ten feet wide. On the side 
 toward the valley, Gerard backed it with a bank of 
 concrete twelve feet thick at its base. On the side 
 toward the common lands, a similar bank, covered 
 with several feet of vegetable mould, supported that 
 formidable structure, which the water could not dis- 
 turb. To provide against excessive rains, the engi- 
 neer arranged a waste weir at a suitable height. The 
 masonry was carried down to the tufa or granite in 
 each mountain, so that the water should find no 
 issue around the ends. This dam was finished 
 toward the middle of August. At the same time, 
 Gerard built three canals in the three main valleys, 
 and not one of the works reached the figure of his 
 estimates. Thus there was money enough to finish 
 the chateau farm-buildings. The work of irrigation 
 in the plain, carried on by Fresquin, corresponded 
 with the canal marked out by nature at the base of 
 the mountain chain on the side of the plain, from 
 which the irrigating trenches started. Gates were 
 fitted to the ditches, which the plentiful supply of 
 loose rocks had made it possible to line with stone, 
 in order to keep the water in the plain at the 
 proper level. 
 
 Every Sunday, after mass, Veronique, the engi- 
 neer, the cure, the doctor, and the mayor went 
 down by way of the park to watch the movement of 
 the waters. The winter of 1833 and 1834 was 
 very rainy. The water from the three streams
 
 310 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 which had been turned into the Gabou, and the rain- 
 water, converted the valley of the Gabou into three 
 ponds, which were prudently dammed up at different 
 levels, in order to provide a reserve for prolonged 
 droughts. At the points where the valley widened 
 out, Gerard took advantage of three small hills 
 which rose above the water, to make islands, which 
 were planted with trees of different kinds. This 
 extensive operation completely changed the land- 
 scape, but five or* six years must pass before it 
 would take on its permanent physiognomy. 
 
 " The country was all naked," said Farrabesche, 
 " and madame has clothed it." 
 
 After those great changes, Veronique was called 
 Madame throughout the whole region. When the 
 rains ceased, in June, 1834, they tried the effect of 
 irrigation in the part of the fields where grain had 
 been sown, and the young verdure thus nourished 
 produced a superior quality of the marcitis of Italy 
 and the Swiss fields. The system of watering, 
 modelled upon that in use on the farms of Lom- 
 bardy, moistened the whole tract equally, the sur- 
 face being as smooth as a carpet. The nitre in the 
 snow, being dissolved in the water, doubtless con- 
 tributed materially to the quality of the grass. The 
 engineer hoped to find in the crops some similarity 
 to those of Switzerland, where that substance is, as 
 is well known, an inexhaustible source of fruitful- 
 ness. The plantations along the sides of the roads, 
 being kept sufficiently moist by the water left in the 
 ditches, made rapid progress.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 311 
 
 Thus, in 1838, five years from the inception of Ma- 
 dame Graslin's enterprise at Montegnac, the wild, un- 
 cultivated moor, looked upon as unfruitful by twenty 
 generations, was green, planted in every part, and 
 productive. Gerard had laid out five farms of one 
 thousand acres each, in addition to the great estab- 
 lishment connected with the chateau. Gerard's 
 farm, Grossetete's, and Fresquin's, which received 
 the overflow of the water on Madame Graslin's do- 
 main, were arranged on the same plan and managed 
 by the same methods. Gerard built a lovely pa- 
 vilion on his property. When everything was 
 finished, the inhabitants of Montegnac, at the sug- 
 gestion of the mayor himself, who was overjoyed 
 to resign, elected Gerard mayor of the commune. 
 
 In 1840, the departure of the first herd of cattle 
 from Montegnac to the market at Paris was made 
 the occasion of a rustic fete. The farms on the 
 plain raised cattle and horses, for they had found, 
 on clearing the land, an average of seven inches of 
 vegetable mould, which was constantly enriched by 
 the annual felling of trees, by the manure left by 
 the beasts pastured there, and, above all, by the 
 snow-water in the basin of the Gabou. In that 
 year, Madame Graslin deemed it advisable to have 
 a tutor for her son, who was eleven years old; she 
 was unwilling to part with him, but wished none the 
 less to give him a thorough education. Monsieur 
 Bonnet wrote to the seminary. Madame Graslin, 
 on her side, mentioned her desire and her embar- 
 rassment to Monseigneur Dutheil, recently appointed
 
 312 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 archbishop. The selection of a man who would be 
 likely to live at least nine years at the chateau was 
 a great and momentous matter. Gerard had already 
 offered to teach his friend Francis mathematics; but 
 it was impossible for him to take a tutor's place, 
 and Madame Graslin was the more dismayed con- 
 cerning the selection she must make, because she 
 felt that her health was giving way. The more 
 her dear Montegnac increased in value, the more 
 she increased the 'secret austerity of her life. 
 Monseigneur Dutheil, with whom she still corre- 
 sponded, found for her the man she desired. He 
 sent from his diocese a young professor, twenty- 
 five years of age, named Ruffm, whose vocation 
 was private instruction; his knowledge was exten- 
 sive; he had an exceedingly sensitive heart, which 
 was not inconsistent with the severity essential for 
 him who seeks to guide a child; in his case, piety 
 in no way interfered with knowledge; last of all, 
 he was patient and had an attractive exterior. 
 
 " I am making you a gift of real value, my dear 
 daughter," wrote the archbishop, "this young man 
 is worthy to be entrusted with the education of a 
 prince. I rely upon you to assure his future, for 
 he will be your son's spiritual father." 
 
 Monsieur Ruffin impressed Madame Graslin 's 
 faithful friends so favorably, that his arrival made 
 no disturbance in the various friendships that were 
 grouped about that idol, whose hours, even her 
 moments, were sought by everyone with something 
 like jealousy.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 313 
 
 The year 1843 saw the prosperity of Montegnac 
 increase beyond all hopes. The farm of the Gabou 
 rivalled those of the plain, and the chateau farm led 
 the way in all the improvements. The other five, 
 the rent of which was to increase year by year until 
 it reached thirty thousand francs for each in the 
 twelfth year of the lease, yielded in 1843 a revenue 
 of sixty thousand francs. The farmers, who were 
 beginning to reap the fruit of their own and Ma- 
 dame Graslin's sacrifices, were able to improve the, 
 fields on the plain, where they raised grass of the 
 first quality which never feared a drought. The 
 farm of the Gabou joyfully paid an initial rent of 
 four thousand francs. 
 
 During that year a man from Montegnac estab- 
 lished a diligence from the chief town of the arron- 
 dissement to Limoges, starting from both places 
 every day. Monsieur Clousier's nephew sold his 
 clerkship and procured the creation of a notarial 
 office in his favor. The government appointed 
 Fresquin tax-collector of the canton. The new 
 notary built himself a pretty house in upper 
 Montegnac, planted mulberry-trees on the land 
 appurtenant to it, and became Gerard's deputy- 
 mayor. The engineer himself, emboldened by such 
 complete success, conceived a project calculated to 
 make Madame Graslin the possessor of a colossal 
 fortune; she regained possession, in that year, of 
 the securities pledged for her loan. He proposed 
 to turn the little river into a canal and divert the 
 surplus water of the Gabou into it. That canal,
 
 314 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 which would eventually reach the Vienne, would 
 throw into the market the whole twenty thousand 
 acres of the vast forest of Montegnac, which was 
 admirably kept up by Colorat, but produced no in- 
 come, for lack of means of transportation. They 
 could cut a thousand acres a year, making it last 
 twenty years, and ship valuable building timber to 
 Limoges. That was the original idea of Graslin, 
 who had paid but little heed to the cure's plans 
 relative to the plain, Hbut had given much more 
 thought to making a canal of the little river.
 
 VERONIQUE AT THE TOMB 
 
 Early in the following year, notwithstanding Ma- 
 dame Graslin's courageous bearing, her friends de- 
 tected in her the premonitory symptoms of impend- 
 ing death. To all Roubaud's observations, to the 
 most adroit questions of the most keen-sighted, 
 Veronique made the same reply: " she was wonder- 
 fully well." But, in the spring, when she went to 
 inspect her forests, her farms, her lovely fields, she 
 manifested a childish joy which betokened melan- 
 choly previsions. 
 
 When he found himself compelled to build a low 
 wall of concrete from the Gabou dam to the park of 
 Montegnac, along the whole length and at the base 
 of the hill called La Correze, Gerard had had the 
 idea of enclosing the forest and uniting it to the 
 park. Madame Graslin set aside thirty thousand 
 francs a year for that work, which required at least 
 seven years, but which withdrew that magnificent 
 forest from the operation of the rights exercised by 
 the government over the unenclosed woods of private 
 individuals. The three ponds in the valley of the 
 (3i5)
 
 316 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Gabou would then be in the park. Each of those 
 ponds, vaingloriously called lakes, had its island. 
 With the connivance of Grossetete, Gerard had 
 prepared a surprise for Madame Graslin's birthday 
 in that year. He had built on the largest of those 
 islands, the second, a small summer-house, with 
 a rustic exterior and perfectly charming within. 
 The ex-banker had taken part in the conspiracy, in 
 which Farrabesche, Clousier's nephew, Fresquin, 
 and the majority of the wealthy people of Montegnac 
 also had a hand. Grossetete sent a lovely suite of 
 furniture for the house. The bell-tower, copied 
 from that at Vevay, produced a charming effect in 
 the landscape. Six boats, two for each pond, had 
 been secretly built, painted, and rigged during the 
 winter by Farrabesche and Guepin, assisted by the 
 carpenter of Montegnac. 
 
 In the middle of May, therefore, after the break- 
 fast which Madame Graslin gave her friends, she 
 was escorted by them through the park, beautifully 
 laid out by Gerard, who for five years had given his 
 attention to it as architect and as naturalist, toward 
 the charming field in the valley of the Gabou, where 
 the two boats lay, near the shore of the first pond. 
 That field, watered by several limpid streams, had 
 been taken from the base of the beautiful amphi- 
 theatre at which the valley of the Gabou begins. 
 The woods, thinned out with true art and in such 
 way as to produce the most beautiful masses or 
 vistas pleasing to the eye, surrounded the field, 
 imparting to it an air of solitude soothing to the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 317 
 
 soul. Gerard had built upon an eminence a dupli- 
 cate of the cottage of the Valley of Sion, which 
 stands by the side of the road to Brieg, and which 
 all travellers admire. It was to be used to house the 
 cows and as the dairy of the chateau. From the bal- 
 cony, one could see the whole landscape created by 
 the engineer, which the lakes made worthy of com- 
 parison with the loveliest spots in Switzerland. It 
 was a superb day. Not a cloud in the blue sky; on 
 the earth a thousand charming contrasts of the sort 
 peculiar to the beautiful month of May. The trees 
 planted within ten years on the borders of the ponds: 
 weeping willows, elders, ash-trees, Holland white- 
 wood, poplars from Italy and Virginia, whitethorn 
 and roses, acacias, birches, choice varieties all, and 
 all arranged as the location and their shapes required, 
 retained amid their foliage a few clouds born upon 
 the waters and resembling faint columns of smoke. 
 The surface of the water, clear as a mirror and 
 placid as the sky, reflected the tall green masses of 
 the forest, whose tree-tops, sharply outlined in the 
 clear atmosphere, contrasted with the thickets below, 
 wrapped in their graceful veils. The lakes, sepa- 
 rated by strong causeways, displayed three mirrors 
 with varying reflections, and their waters flowed 
 from one into another in melodious cascades. The 
 causeways formed roads for going from side to side 
 without making the circuit of the valley. From the 
 cottage one could see through a vista the unfertile 
 expanse of the chalky common lands, which, seen 
 from the lower balcony, resembled the full sea, and
 
 318 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 contrasted strikingly with the fresh aspect of the 
 lake and its banks. 
 
 When Veronique noticed the joy on the faces of 
 her friends as they gave her their hands to assist 
 her into the larger of the boats, she had tears in 
 her eyes and let them fall in silence until they ap- 
 proached the first causeway. As she walked to the 
 top of it to embark on the second fleet, she spied the 
 summer-house^ and Grossetete sitting on a bench 
 with all his family. 
 
 " Do they wish to make me regret life?" she said 
 to the cure. 
 
 "We wish to keep you from dying," Clousier 
 replied. 
 
 "Life cannot be restored to the dead," she re- 
 joined. 
 
 Monsieur Bonnet cast a stern glance at his peni- 
 tent, whereat she withdrew within herself. 
 
 " Pray allow me to take charge of your health," 
 said Roubaud, in a gentle, imploring voice, " I am 
 certain of my ability to preserve to this canton its 
 living glory, and to all our friends the tie that binds 
 their lives together." 
 
 Veronique hung her head and Gerard guided the 
 boat slowly toward the island in the centre of that 
 lake, which was the largest of the three, and there 
 they could hear the roar of the first, then flowing 
 over the dam and giving a voice to that charming 
 landscape. 
 
 " You are quite right to arrange for me to bid adieu 
 to this fascinating scene!" she said, as she looked at
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 319 
 
 the trees, which were so thickly covered with leaves 
 that they concealed the two banks. 
 
 The only sign of disapprobation in which her 
 friends allowed themselves to indulge was a de- 
 pressing silence, and Veronique, at another glance 
 from Monsieur Bonnet, leaped lightly ashore, assum- 
 ing a cheerful manner, which she did not again lay 
 aside. Once more the chatelaine, she was charm- 
 ing, and the Grossetete family recognized in her the 
 lovely Madame Graslin of the old days. 
 
 "Assuredly, you can still live!" said her mother, 
 in her ear. 
 
 On that beautiful fete-day, amid that sublime 
 scene, created with no other means than those pro- 
 vided by nature, nothing seemed calculated to wound 
 Veronique, and yet she received her coup de grace on 
 that occasion. They were to return about nine 
 o'clock by way of the fields, where the roads, as 
 fine as English or Italian roads, were the engineer's 
 pride. The abundance of loose stone, laid aside in 
 piles at the time the moor was cleared, made it so 
 simple a matter to keep them in repair, that for five 
 years they had been practically macadamized. The 
 carriages were waiting at the outlet of the last valley 
 toward the plain, almost at the foot of the Roche- 
 Vme. The horses, all bred at Montegnac, were the 
 first of the stock old enough to be sold; the superin- 
 tendent of the stud had had ten of them raised for 
 the chateau stables, and their trial was a part of the 
 programme of the celebration. Madame Graslin's 
 caleche, a present from Grossetete, was drawn by
 
 320 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the four finest horses, simply harnessed, pawing and 
 tossing their heads. 
 
 After dinner, the happy party went to drink their 
 coffee in a small wooden kiosk, copied from one of 
 those on the Bosporus and situated on the point of 
 the island where the view embraced the last pond. 
 Colorat's house, for the keeper, unequal to duties 
 as difficult as those of head-keeper of Montegnac, 
 had succeeded to the post formerly held by Farra- 
 besche, and the old house restored, formed one of 
 the elements of that landscape, bounded by the great 
 Gabou dam, which arrested the glance at a lovely 
 mass of rich and sturdy vegetation. 
 
 From there, Madame Graslin thought that she 
 could see her son Francis in the vicinity of the nurs- 
 ery originally started by Farrabesche; she looked 
 for him, but did not see him until Monsieur Ruffin 
 pointed him out to her playing on the shores of 
 the pond with Grossete'te's granddaughters' children. 
 Veronique dreaded some accident. Heeding no re- 
 monstrances, she left the kiosk, leaped into one of 
 the boats, was set ashore on the causeway, and ran in 
 search of her son. That little incident led to a gen- 
 eral departure from the island. The venerable great- 
 grandfather, Grossetete, was the first to propose a 
 walk along the lovely path that skirted the last 
 two lakes, following the caprices of that moun- 
 tainous soil. Madame Graslin, from a distance, 
 saw Francis in the arms of a woman dressed in 
 mourning. Judging from the shape of the hat and 
 the cut of the clothes, the woman was a foreigner.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 321 
 
 Veronique, in dismay,j:alled her son, who came to 
 her. 
 
 " Who is that woman?" she asked the other chil- 
 dren, " and why did Francis leave you?" 
 
 " That lady called him by his name," said a little 
 girl. 
 
 At that moment, La Sauviat and Gerard, who had 
 hurried on in advance of the others, came up. 
 
 "Who is that woman, my dear child?" Madame 
 Graslin asked Francis. 
 
 " I don't know," he replied, " but nobody but 
 you and grandma kiss me lil'e that. She was cry- 
 ing," he said in his mother's ear. 
 
 "Would you like me to run after her?" asked 
 Gerard. 
 
 "No!" said Madame Graslin, with an abruptness 
 which was unfamiliar in her manner. 
 
 With a delicacy which Veronique appreciated, 
 Gerard led the other children away and went to 
 meet the rest of the party, leaving La Sauviat, 
 Veronique, and Francis alone. 
 
 "What did she say to you?" La Sauviat asked 
 her grandson. 
 
 " I don't know, she didn't speak French." 
 
 " Didn't you understand anything?" said Vero- 
 nique. 
 
 " Oh! yes, she said several times, and that's how 
 I remembered it: 'Dear brother!' " 
 
 Veronique grasped her mother's arm and kept her 
 son's hand in hers; but she had taken only a few 
 steps, when her strength abandoned her. 
 
 21
 
 322 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "What's the matter? what has happened?" they 
 asked La Sauviat. 
 
 "Oh! my daughter is in danger!" said the old 
 Auvergnat, in a deep, guttural voice. 
 
 It was necessary to carry Veronique to her car- 
 riage; she wanted Aline and Francis to get in with 
 her and asked Gerard to join them. 
 
 "You have been in England, I believe?" she said 
 to him when she had recovered her wits, " and you 
 know English? What do the words ' dear brother ' 
 mean?" 
 
 "Does not everybody know?" cried Gerard. 
 " That means: ' cher frere.' " 
 
 Veronique exchanged a glance with Aline and La 
 Sauviat that made them shudder, but they restrained 
 their emotion. The joyous shouts of all those who 
 witnessed the departure of the carriages, the splen- 
 dor of the sunset over the level fields, the perfect 
 gait of the horses, the laughter of her friends who 
 followed, the brisk gallop of those who accompanied 
 her on horseback nothing could arouse Madame 
 Graslin from her torpor. Her mother bade the 
 coachman drive faster, and their carriage was the 
 first to reach the chateau. When the company 
 had assembled there, they learned that Veronique 
 had locked herself in her room, and would see no 
 one. 
 
 "I fear," said Gerard to his friends, "that Ma- 
 dame Graslin has received some mortal blow." 
 
 "Where? How?" they asked him. 
 
 " In the heart," was his reply.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 323 
 
 Two days later, Roubaud set out for -Paris. He 
 had found Madame Graslin so seriously ill, that, in 
 order to snatch her from the jaws of death, he went 
 to obtain the opinion and the assistance of the best 
 physician in Paris. But Veronique had received 
 Roubaud only to put an end to the importunities of 
 her mother and Aline, who implored her to take care 
 of herself: she felt that she was stricken unto death. 
 She refused to see Monsieur Bonnet, sending word 
 to him that it was not yet time. Although all her 
 friends, who had come from Limoges for her birth- 
 day, wished to remain with her, she begged them 
 to excuse her for her failure to fulfil the duties of 
 hostess, but she wished to remain in the most pro- 
 found solitude. 
 
 After Roubaud's abrupt departure, the guests at 
 the chateau of Montegnac returned to Limoges, less 
 disappointed than despairing, for all of those whom 
 Grossetete had brought with him adored Veronique. 
 They lost themselves in conjectures as to what 
 could have caused that mysterious disaster. 
 
 One evening, two days after the departure of the 
 numerous Grossetete family, Aline introduced Cath- 
 erine into Madame Graslin's apartment. La Farra- 
 besche stood nailed to the spot at sight of the change 
 that had so suddenly taken place in her mistress, 
 whose face seemed to her almost distorted. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, madame!" she cried, "what a deal 
 of harm that poor girl did ! If we could have fore- 
 seen it, Farrabesche and I would never have re- 
 ceived her. She has just learned that madame is
 
 324 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 sick and has sent me to tell Madame Sauviat that 
 she wishes to speak to her." 
 
 "Still here!" cried Veronique. "Where is she 
 now?" 
 
 " My husband took her to the cottage." 
 
 " Very well," said Madame Graslin ; "leave us 
 and tell Farrabesche to go. Tell this woman that 
 my mother will go to see her, and let her wait." 
 
 When it was dark, Veronique, leaning on her 
 mother's arm, walked slowly through the park 
 toward the cottage. The moon was shining in all 
 its splendor, the air was mild, and the two women, 
 visibly moved, received encouragement, as it were, 
 from nature. La Sauviat stopped at short intervals 
 to allow her daughter to rest; her suffering was so 
 intense that it was midnight before they reached 
 the path that ran down from the woods to the 
 sloping field, where the silvery roof of the cottage 
 glistened. The moonlight gave to the tranquil sur- 
 face of the lake the color of peurl. The faint noises 
 of the night, that echo so loudly in the silence, 
 formed a soothing harmony. Veronique sat on the 
 bench outside the cottage, amid the lovely spectacle 
 of that starlit night. The murmuring of two voices 
 and the sound of the footsteps of two persons on the 
 sand, still at some distance, were brought to her ears 
 by the water, which, in the silence, transmits sounds 
 as faithfully as it reflects objects in calm weather. 
 Veronique recognized the cure's voice by its exquisite 
 sweetness, also the rustling of the cassock and of 
 some silk stuff, presumably a woman's dress.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 325 
 
 " Let us go in," she said to her mother. 
 
 La Sauviat and Veronique sat down on a manger 
 in the lower room, intended for a cow-barn. 
 
 " My child," the cure was saying, " I do not re- 
 proach you, you are excusable; but you may be the 
 cause of an irreparable misfortune, for she is the 
 soul of this whole region." 
 
 "Oh! monsieur, I will go away this very even- 
 ing," replied the stranger; " but, I can say it to you, 
 to leave my dear province again will be my death. 
 If I had remained another day in that horrible New 
 York, or in the United States, where there is neither 
 hope nor faith nor charity, I should have died with- 
 out being sick. The air I breathed gave me a pain 
 in my chest, the food ceased to nourish me, I was 
 dying, although I seemed full of life and health. 
 My suffering ceased as soon as I set foot on the 
 vessel. I thought I was in France. Oh! monsieur, 
 I saw my mother and one of my sisters-in-law die 
 of grief. My grandfather and grandmother Tascheron 
 are dead, dead, dear Monsieur Bonnet, for all the 
 unexampled prosperity of Tascheronville. Yes, my 
 father founded a village in the State of Ohio; that 
 village has become almost a city, and a third part 
 of the land included in it is tilled by our family, 
 for God has been good to us always: our farming 
 has been successful, our crops are magnificent, and 
 we are rich! We have been able to build a Catholic 
 church; the town is Catholic, we do not allow any 
 other form of worship there, and we hope to convert 
 by our example the thousand and one sects that
 
 326 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 surround us. The true religion is in the minority in 
 that land of money and selfishness, where souls are 
 cold. However, I would rather return there to die 
 than to do the least injury to our dear Francis's 
 mother, or cause her the slightest pain. Only, Mon- 
 sieur Bonnet, pray take me to the rectory to-night, 
 and let me pray by his grave, which is the only thing 
 that attracted me here;, for, as I approached the spot 
 where he is, I felt like another person. No, I did 
 not think I could be so happy here!" 
 
 "Very well," said the cure, "let us go. If the 
 day ever comes when you can return without in- 
 convenience, I will write you, Denise; but perhaps 
 this brief visit to your province will enable you to 
 live in peace over yonder." 
 
 "Oh! must I leave this country, which is so 
 beautiful now? Why, see what Madame Graslin 
 has done with the Gabou!" she said, pointing to the 
 lake lying in the moonlight. "Some time all this 
 property will belong to our dear Francis " 
 
 "You shall not go, Denise," said Madame Gras- 
 lin, appearing at the door of the cottage. 
 
 Jean-Francois Tascheron's sister clasped her hands 
 at the sight of the spectre who addressed her. 
 At that moment, the pallid Veronique, standing 
 in the moonlight, looked like a ghost outlined 
 against the dark background of the interior as seen 
 through the open door. Her eyes gleamed like 
 stars. 
 
 " No, my child, you shall not leave the country 
 you have come so far to see, and .you shall be happy
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 327 
 
 here, unless God should refuse to second my work, 
 and it is He, doubtless, who sends you!" 
 
 She took the astonished Denise by the hand, and 
 led her by a path to the other bank of the lake, 
 leaving her mother and the cure, who sat down 
 on the bench. 
 
 "We must let her do as she wishes," said La 
 Sauviat. 
 
 A few moments later Veronique returned alone, 
 and was taken back to the chateau by her mother 
 and the cure. Doubtless she had formed some plan 
 which demanded mystery, for no one in the neigh- 
 borhood saw Denise or heard her name. Madame 
 Graslin took to her bed once more and did not leave 
 it; she grew worse day by day, and seemed vexed 
 at not being able to rise, making several attempts to ? 
 walk in the park, but always in vain. But a few 
 days subsequent to this scene, early in June, she 
 made a superhuman effort one morning, left her bed, 
 and insisted upon dressing and arraying herself as for 
 a festal occasion; she begged Gerard to give her his 
 arm: for her friends came every day to inquire for 
 her; and, when Aline said that her mistress in- 
 tended to go to walk, they all hurried to the cha- 
 teau. Madame Graslin, who had summoned all her 
 strength, exhausted her last resources to take that 
 walk. She accomplished her purpose in a convul- 
 sive effort of the will, which was to be followed by 
 a terrible reaction. 
 
 "Let us go to the cottage, and alone," she said 
 to Gerard, in a soft voice, glancing at him with
 
 328 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 a sort of coquetry. " This is the last prank I 
 shall play, for I dreamed last night that the doctors 
 arrived." 
 
 " Do you want to see your woods?" said Gerard. 
 
 "For the last time," she replied. "But I have 
 some strange propositions to make to you," she 
 said, in an insinuating voice. 
 
 She forced Gerard to embark with her on the 
 second lake, to which she went on foot. When the 
 engineer, surprised that she should undertake such 
 an excursion, took up the oars, she indicated the 
 summer-house as their goal. 
 
 " My friend," she said to him, after a long pause, 
 during which she gazed at the sky, the water, the 
 hills, the shores of the lake, " I have the strangest 
 request to make of you, but I believe that you are 
 the man to obey me." 
 
 " In everything, sure that you can wish for 
 nothing that is not good," he cried. 
 
 " I want you to marry," she replied, " and you will 
 thereby gratify the wish of a dying woman who is 
 certain that she is assuring your happiness." 
 
 " I am too ugly!" said the engineer. 
 
 "The person 1 have in mind is pretty, she is 
 young, she wishes to live at Montegnac, and, if you 
 marry her, you will help to make my last moments 
 peaceful. Let there be no question of her qualities 
 between us; I give her to you as a woman in a 
 thousand; and, as the first sight will be enough, 
 so far as youth and beauty and personal charm 
 are concerned, we are going to see her at the
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 329 
 
 summer-house. On our return, you will say no or 
 yes in all seriousness." 
 
 After this confidence, the engineer rowed more 
 rapidly, whereat Madame Graslin smiled. Denise, 
 who lived in entire seclusion in the summer-house, 
 recognized Madame Graslin, and made haste to open 
 the door. Veronique and Gerard entered. The poor 
 girl could not restrain a blush as she met the glance 
 of the engineer, who was agreeably surprised by 
 her beauty. 
 
 "La Curieux lets you want for nothing?" Vero- 
 nique asked her. 
 
 " Look, madame," she said, pointing to her break- 
 fast. 
 
 " This is Monsieur Gerard, whom I have men- 
 tioned to you," continued Veronique; "he will be 
 my son's guardian, and after my death you will 
 live together at the chateau until he attains his 
 majority." 
 
 " Oh! do not speak so, madame." 
 
 " Why, look at me, my child !" she said to Denise, 
 detecting instantly the tears in her eyes. "She 
 comes from New York," she said to Gerard. 
 
 That was a means of breaking the ice between 
 the two. Gerard questioned Denise, and Veronique 
 let them talk as she sat gazing at the last lake of the 
 Gabou. At six o'clock, Gerard and Veronique rowed 
 back in their boat toward the cottage. 
 
 "Well?" she said, inquiringly, looking at her 
 friend. 
 
 " You have my word."
 
 330 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "Although you are a man without prejudices," 
 she continued, " you must not be left in ignorance of 
 the painful circumstances which compelled that poor 
 child to leave the province, to which she has been 
 led back by homesickness." 
 
 "A misstep?" 
 
 " Oh, no!" said Veronique; "if so, should I intro- 
 duce her to you? She is the sister of a mechanic 
 who died on the scaffold." 
 
 "Ah! Tascheron," he exclaimed, " Pere Pingret's 
 murderer!" 
 
 " Yes, she is a murderer's sister!" echoed Madame 
 Graslin, with cutting irony; "you can take back 
 your word." 
 
 She could not go on; Gerard was obliged to carry 
 her to the bench outside the cottage, where she lay 
 unconscious for a few moments. She found Gerard 
 on his knees, and he said to her when she opened 
 her eyes: 
 
 " I will marry Denise!" 
 
 Madame Graslin raised Gerard, took his head in 
 her hands, and kissed him on the forehead; observ- 
 ing his amazement at the warmth of her gratitude, 
 Veronique pressed his hand and said: 
 
 "You will soon know the solution of this enigma. 
 Try to take me back to the terrace, where we shall 
 find our friends. It is very late, and I am very weak, 
 and yet I wish to bid farewell to this dear plain from 
 afar!" 
 
 Although the day had been insufferably hot, the 
 storms that ravaged Europe and France during that
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 331 
 
 year, but respected the Limousin, raged in the basin 
 of the Loire, and the air was beginning to grow cool. 
 The sky was so cloudless that the eye grasped the 
 slightest details on the horizon. What words can 
 describe the delightful concert produced by the 
 softened noises of the village, enlivened by the 
 workmen returning from the fields! That scene, to 
 be fittingly reproduced, demands the brush of one 
 who is a great landscape painter and a painter of the 
 human face at the same time. Is there not, in very 
 truth, a curious similitude, and difficult to reproduce, 
 between the weariness of nature and that of man? 
 The tempered heat of the dog-days and the rarefac- 
 tion of the air give to the slightest sounds produced 
 by living things their full significance. Women sit- 
 ting at their doors awaiting their husbands, who fre- 
 quently bring the children with them, chatter among 
 themselves and work on. From the roofs ascend 
 wreaths of smoke which announce the preparation 
 of the last meal of the day, the most cheerful among 
 the peasants; after it, they sleep. The bustle ex- 
 presses the happy thoughts of those who have fin- 
 ished their day. You hear singing, certainly of a 
 very different character from that you hear in the 
 morning. In that respect, the villagers imitate the 
 birds, whose warbling toward evening bears no re- 
 semblance to their shrill notes at dawn. All nature 
 sings a hymn to repose, as it sings at sunrise a 
 hymn to activity. The most trivial actions of ani- 
 mate beings seem to be tinged with the soft harmoni- 
 ous hues which the setting sun casts athwart the
 
 332 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 fields, and which give a placid aspect to the gravel 
 in the roads. If anyone should dare deny the influ- 
 ence of that hour, the loveliest of the day, the flowers 
 would put him to shame, intoxicating him with their 
 most pungent odors, which they then exhale and 
 mingle with the softest chirping of the insects and 
 the amorous cooing of the birds. 
 
 The trenches that cross and recross the plain 
 beyond the village were veiled with delicate, light 
 vapors. In the great fields, divided by the de- 
 partmental road, at this time shaded by poplars, 
 acacias, and Japanese varnish-trees, symmetrically 
 arranged and all so well grown that they already 
 provided shade, could be seen the vast and celebrated 
 herds of fat cattle, scattered about or in groups, 
 some chewing the cud, others still grazing. Men, 
 women, and children were finishing the most attrac- 
 tive of a farmer's occupations, hay-making. The 
 evening air, sharpened by the sudden coolness due 
 to the storms, brought the fragrance of the new- 
 mown grass and the trusses of hay already made 
 up. The slightest details of that lovely panorama 
 could be distinctly seen: those who, fearing a storm, 
 were finishing in hot haste the hayricks, around 
 which the hay-makers were running with laden 
 forks, and those who were loading the wagons 
 among the trussers, and those who were still mow- 
 ing in the distance, and the women who were 
 turning the long lines of grass, lying like hatched 
 lines over the fields, preparatory to raking them 
 up, and those who were hastily raking the hay into
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 335 
 
 piles. One could hear the laughter of those who 
 were playing, mingled with the joyous cries of the 
 children as they pushed one another into the hay. 
 One could distinguish the pink or red or blue skirts, 
 the neckerchiefs, the bare legs and arms of the 
 women, all with the broad-brimmed hats of cheap 
 straw on their heads, and the shirts of the men, 
 almost all of whom wore white trousers. The last 
 rays of the sun filtered through the long lines of 
 poplars planted along the ditches that divide the 
 plain into fields of unequal size, and touched caress- 
 ingly the groups of horses, wagons, men, women, 
 children, and horned beasts. The drovers and shep- 
 herdesses were beginning to collect their flocks, 
 calling them together to the notes of rustic horns. 
 The scene was at once noisy and silent, a curious 
 antithesis which will astonish none but those to 
 whom the splendors of the country are unknown. 
 On both sides of the village, wagon-trains of green 
 fodder followed one another. 
 
 There was a something indefinably soothing in the 
 spectacle. And so Veronique walked silently along 
 between Gerard and the cure. When, through a 
 gap made by a country lane running between the 
 houses below the terrace, the rectory, and the 
 church, they were able to look down into the high 
 street of Montegnac, Gerard and Monsieur Bonnet 
 saw that the eyes of men, women, and children, of 
 all the different groups, were turned upon them, 
 gazing more particularly, doubtless, at Madame 
 Graslin. How great affection and gratitude were
 
 334 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 expressed by the attitudes! What blessings were 
 showered upon Veronique! With what reverential 
 attention were the glances of one and all fixed upon 
 those three benefactors of a whole canton! Thus 
 man added a hymn of gratitude to all the other even- 
 ing songs. And, although Madame Graslin's eyes, 
 as she walked on, were fixed upon those long, mag- 
 nificent carpets of verdure, her dearest creation, the 
 priest and the mayor did not take their eyes from 
 the groups below, for it was impossible to misinter- 
 pret their expression: grief, melancholy, regret min- 
 gled with hope, were depicted therein. Everyone at 
 Montegnac knew that Roubaud had gone to consult 
 eminent physicians at Paris, and that the bene- 
 factress of the canton was drawing near the end of 
 a fatal sickness. At all the markets within a radius 
 of ten leagues, the peasants asked those from Mon- 
 tegnac: " How is your bourgeoise?" Thus the 
 solemn thought of death was hovering over those 
 fields, in the midst of that rustic tableau. Far off in 
 the hayfield, more than one mower as he sharpened 
 his scythe, more than one young girl resting her 
 arm on her fork, more than one farmer from the 
 top of his hayrick, when they saw Madame Graslin, 
 stood pensively gazing at that noble woman, the 
 glory of La Correze, eagerly seeking something 
 upon which to base a favorable augury, or looking 
 simply to admire, impelled by a sentiment stronger 
 than the inclination to work. "She is taking a 
 walk, so she must be better!" That simple phrase 
 was on every lip.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 335 
 
 Madame Graslin's mother, sitting on the cast- 
 iron bench which Veronique had had placed at the 
 end of the terrace, at the corner from which the 
 cemetery could be seen through the balustrade, 
 studied her daughter's movements and watched her 
 closely as she walked, and the tears gathered in 
 her eyes. Accustomed as she was to the exertions of 
 that superhuman courage, she knew that Veronique 
 at that moment was already suffering the pangs 
 of a horrible death-agony, and kept herself upon 
 her feet by a heroic effort of her will. Those 
 tears, almost red, which rolled down over that 
 septuagenarian face, tanned and wrinkled, whose 
 parchment-like surface seemed unlikely to soften 
 under any emotion, aroused the tears of young 
 Graslin, who was standing between Monsieur Ruf- 
 fm's legs. 
 
 "What's the matter, my child?" said the tutor, 
 quickly. 
 
 " My grandma is crying," he replied. 
 
 Monsieur Ruffin, whose eyes were fixed upon Ma- 
 dame Graslin as she came toward them, looked at 
 Mere Sauviat and was deeply touched at the sight of 
 that old Roman matron's face, petrified by grief and 
 wet with tears. 
 
 "Why did you not prevent her going out, ma- 
 dame?" said the tutor to the old woman, whose 
 mute grief made her august and sacred. 
 
 While Veronique came forward with majestic, 
 wonderfully graceful carriage, La Sauviat, impelled 
 by despair at the thought of surviving her daughter,
 
 336 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 disclosed the secret of many things that aroused 
 curiosity. 
 
 " To think," she exclaimed, " of walking, when 
 one wears a hair-cloth vest that punctures the skin 
 at every step!" 
 
 That exclamation appalled the young man, who 
 had not failed to notice the exquisite grace of 
 Veronique's movements, and who shuddered at the 
 thought of the terrible, constant domination that 
 the mind must have acquired over the body. The 
 Parisian woman most renowned for ease of car- 
 riage, for her figure and gait, would have been 
 outdone by Veronique at that moment. 
 
 " She has worn it thirteen years, she put it on 
 after she finished nursing her boy," said the old 
 woman, pointing to Francis. "She has done mira- 
 cles here; but, if her life were known, she might 
 well be canonized. Since she has been here, no 
 one has ever seen her eat: do you know why? 
 Three times a day Aline carries her a piece of dry 
 bread on a large plate covered with ashes, and a few 
 beans cooked in water, without salt, on a plate of 
 red earthenware, like those used to give dogs their 
 food! Yes, that is how the woman who has given 
 life to this canton lives. She prays, kneeling on 
 the edge of her hair-cloth. If it weren't for those 
 austerities, she says, she never could have the 
 pleasant smile on her face that you have seen 
 there. I tell you this," continued the old woman, 
 in an undertone, "so that you can tell the doctor 
 Monsieur Roubaud is going to bring down from
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 337 
 
 Paris. If they prevent my daughter from going on 
 with her penances, perhaps they might yet save 
 her, although the hand of death is already on her 
 head. Look at her! Ah! I must be very strong to 
 have been able to endure all these things fifteen 
 years!" 
 
 The old woman took her grandson's hand and 
 passed it over her forehead and her cheeks, as if 
 that tiny hand spread a refreshing balm; then she 
 imprinted a kiss upon it, overflowing with the affec- 
 tion of which the secret belongs to grandmothers as 
 well as to mothers. 
 
 Meanwhile, Veronique had arrived within a few 
 steps of the bench, accompanied by Clousier, the 
 cure, and Gerard. In the mellow rays of the set- 
 ting sun she shone resplendent with a ghastly beauty. 
 Her yellow forehead, furrowed by long wrinkles 
 piled upon one another like clouds, revealed one 
 fixed thought amid all her inward troubles. Her 
 face, absolutely devoid of color, white with the dead, 
 sallow whiteness of plants that have no sun, pre- 
 sented a contour that was thin without being sharp, 
 and bore traces of the terrible physical pain produced 
 by mental suffering. She combated the mind with 
 the body, and vice -versa. She was such an utter 
 wreck that she resembled her former self only as an 
 aged woman resembles her portrait as a girl. The 
 ardent gleam of her eyes betrayed the despotic em- 
 pire exerted by a Christian will over the body, re- 
 duced to what religion wishes it to be. In that 
 woman the mind drew the flesh in its train, as the 
 
 22
 
 338 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Achilles of profane poetry drew Hector around the 
 walls of Troy; it dragged it triumphantly over the 
 stony pathways of life, it had forced it to wander 
 for fifteen years around the heavenly Jerusalem, 
 where it hoped to be admitted, not by fraud, but 
 amid triumphant acclamations. Never was one of 
 the anchorites who lived in the dry and barren Afri- 
 can deserts more completely master of his passions, 
 than was Veronique in that superb chateau, in the 
 heart of that fertile country, with its placid, vo- 
 luptuous landscapes, beneath the protecting mantle 
 of that vast forest, whence science, the inheritor of 
 Moses' staff, had caused abundance, prosperity, and 
 happiness for a whole canton to gush forth. She 
 contemplated the results of twelve years of pa- 
 tience a work which would have been the pride 
 of a man of superior talents with the gentle 
 modesty which Pontormo's pencil gave to the 
 face of his Christian Purity Caressing the Divine 
 Unicorn. The devout chatelaine, whose silent mood 
 was respected by her two companions when they 
 saw that her eyes were fixed on the vast plain, 
 once sterile, now fruitful, walked with her arms 
 folded and her eyes fixed on the road where it met 
 the horizon. 
 
 Suddenly she stopped, within two steps of her 
 mother, who gazed at her as the Mother of Christ 
 must have gazed at her Son on the cross; she 
 raised her hand and pointed to the junction of the 
 Montegnac road and the main highway. 
 
 "Do you see," she said, with a smile, "that
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 339 
 
 caleche, drawn by four post-horses? That is Mon- 
 sieur Roubaud returning. We shall soon know how 
 many hours 1 have to live." 
 
 " Hours!" said Gerard. 
 
 " Did I not tell you that I was taking my last 
 walk?" she rejoined. " Did I not come here to look 
 for the last time at this lovely scene in all its 
 splendor?" 
 
 She pointed to the village, where the entire popu- 
 lation was assembled at that moment on the square 
 in front of the church; then to the beautiful fields, 
 illumined by the sun's last rays. 
 
 "Ah!" she continued, "let me see God's blessing 
 in the peculiar atmospheric condition to which we 
 owe the preservation of our crops. All about us, 
 tempests, rain, hail, lightning, have smitten without 
 respite or mercy. The people think so; why should 
 not I think as they do? I feel so strongly the need 
 of finding in this a good omen of what awaits me 
 when my eyes are closed!" 
 
 The child rose, took his mother's hand, and placed 
 it upon his head. Veronique, deeply touched by 
 that eloquent gesture, seized her son, and, with 
 superhuman strength, lifted him, placed him on her 
 left arm as if he were still at the breast, kissed him, 
 and said: 
 
 "Do you see all this land, my son? When you 
 are a man, continue your mother's work." 
 
 "There are a very few strong and highly-priv- 
 ileged beings who are permitted to contemplate 
 death face to face, to fight a long duel with it, and
 
 340 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 to display a courage and address that compel our 
 admiration; you afford us that awe-inspiring specta- 
 cle, madame," said the cure, in a grave voice; " but 
 perhaps you lack pity for us: allow us at least to 
 hope that you are mistaken, and that God will 
 permit you to finish all that you have begun." 
 
 " I have done nothing except with your assist- 
 ance, my friends," she said. " I have been able to 
 be of use to you, but I am so no longer. Everything 
 is green about us; there is no desolation anywhere 
 save in my heart. As you know, my dear cure, I 
 can find peace and pardon nowhere but there." 
 
 She put out her hand toward the cemetery. She 
 had not said as much about it since the day of her 
 arrival, when she had swooned at that spot. The 
 cure looked at his penitent, and he had been accus- 
 tomed so long to read her mind, that he saw that in 
 those simple words of his he had won a new tri- 
 umph. Veronique must have been moved beyond 
 measure, to break her silence, after twelve years, 
 with a sentence which said so much. So the cure 
 clasped his hands with a gesture that he often used, 
 instinct with religious fervor, and glanced, in pro- 
 found emotion, at the group formed by that family, 
 all of whose secrets had passed into his heart. 
 Gerard, to whom the words peace and pardon must 
 have seemed most strange, was speechless with 
 amazement. Monsieur Ruffin, his eyes fastened on 
 Veronique, was like one stupefied. 
 
 At that moment, the caleche was rapidly ap- 
 proaching them, passing tree after tree.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 341 
 
 "There are five of them!" said the cure, who 
 stood where he could see and count the travellers. 
 
 " Five!" cried Monsieur Gerard. " Will five know 
 any more than two?" 
 
 "Ah!" muttered Madame Graslin, who was lean- 
 ing on the cure's arm, "the procureur-general is 
 there! Why has he come here?" 
 
 " And Papa Grossetete, too!" cried Francis. 
 
 "Madame," said the cure, who was supporting 
 Madame Graslin, leading her a few steps away, 
 " have courage, and be worthy of yourself !" 
 
 " What does he want?" she replied, leaning over 
 the balustrade." Mother!" 
 
 Old La Sauviat ran to her with an agility that 
 belied her years. 
 
 " I shall see him again!" said Veronique. 
 
 "If he comes with Monsieur Grossetete," replied 
 the cure, "doubtless his intentions are good." 
 
 "Ah! monsieur, my daughter is dying!" cried La 
 Sauviat, watching the effect of those words on 
 Madame Graslin's face. " Can her heart endure 
 such painful emotions? Until now, Monsieur Grosse- 
 tte has kept that man from seeing Veronique." 
 
 Madame Graslin's face was on fire. 
 
 " Do you hate him so bitterly?" Monsieur Bonnet 
 asked his penitent. 
 
 " She left Limoges in order not to let all Limoges 
 into her secrets," said La Sauviat, dismayed by the 
 rapid change that was taking place in Madame Gras- 
 lin's already distorted features. 
 
 " Don't you see that he will poison my few
 
 342 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 remaining hours, during which I ought to think of 
 nothing but Heaven? He nails me to the earth," 
 cried Veronique. 
 
 The cure took her arm once more, and compelled 
 her to walk a few steps with him; when they were 
 alone, he bestowed upon her one of those angelic 
 glances by which he soothed the most violent im- 
 pulses of the heart. 
 
 " If that is so," he said, " as your confessor, I bid 
 you to receive him, to be kind and affectionate to 
 him, to lay aside this vestment of wrath, and to 
 forgive him as God will forgive you. So there is 
 still a remnant of passion in this heart which I 
 thought purified. Burn this last grain of incense on 
 the altar of repentance, else everything about you 
 will be a falsehood." 
 
 " There was still that last effort to be made, and 
 it is made," she replied, wiping her eyes. " The 
 devil still occupied that last fold of my heart, and 
 doubtless God suggested to Monsieur de Gran- 
 ville the thought that brings him here. How many 
 more times will God smite me?" she cried. 
 
 She paused, as if to offer up a silent prayer; she 
 went back to La Sauviat, and said, in a low voice: 
 
 " My dear mother, be kind and amiable to mon- 
 sieur le procureur-general." 
 
 The old Auvergnat shuddered as if with the fever. 
 
 " There is no more hope," she said, seizing the 
 cure's hand. 
 
 At that moment, the caleche, announced by the 
 postilion's whip, was ascending the hill; the gate
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 343 
 
 was thrown open, the carriage entered the court- 
 yard, and the travellers at once came out on the 
 terrace. There were the illustrious Archbishop 
 Dutheil, who had come to consecrate Monseigneur 
 Gabriel de Rastignac; the procureur-general, Mon- 
 sieur Grossete"te, and Monsieur Roubaud, on whose 
 arm was one of the most celebrated physicians in 
 Paris, Horace Bianchon. 
 
 " Welcome," said Veronique to her guests. "And 
 you, above all," she said, offering her hand to the 
 procureur-general, and pressing his warmly. 
 
 The amazement of Monsieur Grossetete, the arch- 
 bishop, and La Sauviat was so great, that it carried 
 the day over the profound acquired discretion which 
 distinguishes the old. They exchanged glances. 
 
 " I relied upon Monseigneur's intervention, and 
 that of my friend, Monsieur Grossetete," replied 
 Monsieur de Granville, "to obtain a favorable re- 
 ception from you. It would have been a lifelong 
 grief to me not to have seen you again." 
 
 " I thank him who brought you here," she re- 
 plied, looking at the Comte de Granville for the 
 first time in fifteen years. " I have borne you much 
 ill-will for a long while; but I have recognized the 
 injustice of my feelings toward you, and you shall 
 know why, if you will remain at Montegnac until 
 the day after to-morrow. Monsieur," she said, 
 turning to Horace Bianchon, and saluting him, "will 
 confirm my apprehensions, I doubt not. It was God 
 who sent you, monseigneur," she added, bowing 
 before the archbishop. "You will not refuse, in
 
 344 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 memory of our old friendship, to assist me in my 
 last moments? What a privilege to me to have 
 about me the beings who have loved me and sus- 
 tained me throughout my life!" 
 
 At the word laved, she turned with a gracious 
 smile to Monsieur de Granville, who was affected to 
 tears by that mark of affection. The most profound 
 silence ensued. The two physicians glanced at each 
 other as if to ask by what magical power that 
 woman stood erect, suffering what she must suffer. 
 The other three were so terrified by the alteration 
 her sickness had produced in her, that they ex- 
 changed their thoughts only with their eyes. 
 
 " Permit me to go with these gentlemen," she 
 said, with her usual charm of manner, "it is an 
 urgent matter." 
 
 She saluted all her guests, took an arm of each 
 physician, and walked toward the chateau at a slow 
 and painful gait that foreboded an impending catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 " Monsieur Bonnet," said the archbishop to the 
 cure, "you have performed miracles!" 
 
 " Not I, but God, monseigneur," he replied. 
 
 " They said she was dying," cried Monsieur 
 Grossetete, "but she is dead! there is nothing left 
 but a mind." 
 
 "A soul," said Monsieur Gerard. 
 
 "She is still the same!" cried the procureur- 
 general. 
 
 "She is a stoic after the manner of the philoso- 
 phers of the Portico," said the tutor.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 345 
 
 They all walked in silence along the balustrade, 
 looking at the landscape, over which the flames of 
 the setting sun cast the most beautiful bright red 
 beams. 
 
 " To me, who saw this country thirteen years 
 ago," said the archbishop, pointing to the fertile 
 plains, the valley, and the mountain of Montegnac, 
 " this miracle is as extraordinary as the other I have 
 just witnessed: for how is it that you allow Madame 
 Graslin to be up? she should be in bed." 
 
 "So she was," said La Sauviat. "After ten 
 days, during which she did not once leave her bed, 
 she insisted on getting up to see the country for the 
 last time." 
 
 " I can understand that she wished to bid adieu to 
 her own creation," said Monsieur de Granville, " but 
 she ran the risk of dying on this terrace." 
 
 Monsieur Roubaud advised us not to contradict 
 her," said La Sauviat. 
 
 "What a prodigy!" cried the archbishop, whose 
 eyes did not tire of wandering over the landscape. 
 "She has made the desert bring forth fruit! But 
 we know, monsieur," he added, looking at Gerard, 
 "that your knowledge and your labors have had 
 much to do with it." 
 
 "We have been only her workmen," replied 
 the mayor; " yes, we are only hands, she is the 
 thought!" 
 
 La Sauviat left the group to go to learn the decision 
 of the physician from Paris. 
 
 " It will require heroism on our part," said the
 
 346 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 procureur-general to the archbishop and the cure, 
 "to witness her death." 
 
 "True," said Monsieur Grossetete, "but we 
 must be willing to do great things for such a friend." 
 
 After they had walked back and forth several 
 times, all absorbed in the gravest thoughts, they 
 saw two of Madame Graslin's farmers coming toward 
 them; they said that they were sent by the whole 
 village to express their painful anxiety to know the 
 verdict of the doctor from Paris. 
 
 " They are in consultation, and we know nothing 
 as yet, my friends," the archbishop replied. 
 
 At that moment, Monsieur Roubaud came running 
 toward them, and his hurried gait made them all 
 quicken theirs. 
 
 "Well?" said the mayor. 
 
 "She has not forty-eight hours to live!" replied 
 Monsieur Roubaud. " In my absence the disease 
 has reached its fullest development. Monsieur Bian- 
 chon cannot understand how she can walk. Such 
 rare phenomena as that are always due to intense 
 excitement. So, messieurs," he said to the arch- 
 bishop and the cure, "she belongs to you; science 
 is of no avail, and my illustrious confrere is of the 
 opinion that you have hardly time for your cere- 
 monies." 
 
 "Let us go and say the forty hours' prayers," 
 said the cure to his parishioners, preparing to with- 
 draw. " His Grace will, doubtless, deign to admin- 
 ister the last sacraments?" 
 
 The archbishop bowed; he could not speak, his eyes
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 347 
 
 were filled with tears. They all sat down, resting 
 their elbows on the balustrade, and abandoned them- 
 selves to their thoughts. The church-bells tolled 
 sadly. Thereupon they heard the footsteps of the 
 whole population flocking to the porch. The rays 
 of the candles shone through the trees in Monsieur 
 Bonnet's garden, the chants arose. Over all the 
 country-side naught was to be seen save the reddish 
 gleams of the twilight; all the birds had ceased their 
 singing; only the tree-toad uttered his long, clear, 
 melancholy note. 
 
 " Let us go and do our duty," said the arch- 
 bishop, walking slowly and as if overwhelmed by 
 grief. 
 
 The consultation was held in the large salon of 
 the chateau. That enormous apartment communi- 
 cated with a state bedroom furnished in red damask, 
 where the ostentatious Graslin had displayed the 
 proverbial magnificence of financiers. Veronique 
 had not entered the room six times in fourteen 
 years, the great apartments were utterly useless to 
 her, for she never received there; but the effort she 
 had made to fulfil her last obligation and to subdue 
 her last revolt had taken away her strength, she 
 could not go up to her own room. When the illus- 
 trious physician had taken the sick woman's hand 
 and felt her pulse, he glanced at Monsieur Roubaud 
 and made a sign; together they lifted her and carried 
 her to the bed in that room. Aline quickly opened 
 the doors. Like all beds kept for purposes of show, 
 that bed had no sheets; the doctors laid Madame
 
 348 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 Graslin on the red damask coverlid and stretched 
 her out there. Roubaud opened the windows, pushed 
 up the blinds, and called. The servants and old 
 La Sauviat ran at his call. They lighted the yellow 
 candles in the candelabra. 
 
 " It is written," cried the dying woman, smiling, 
 "that my death shall be what death should be to 
 every Christian soul: a fete!" 
 
 During the consultation, she said: 
 
 " Monsieur le procureur-general did his duty, I 
 went away, he drove me to it " 
 
 The old mother looked at her daughter and placed 
 her finger on her lips. 
 
 " I will speak, mother," replied Veronique. "The 
 finger of God is in all this, I tell you! I am going to 
 die in a red chamber." 
 
 La Sauviat left the room, terrified by her words. 
 
 "Aline," she said, "she is speaking! she is 
 speaking!" 
 
 "Ah! madame is out of her senses," cried the 
 faithful servant, who was bringing the sheets. " Go 
 and find monsieur le cure, madame." 
 
 " You must undress your mistress," said Bianchon 
 to the maid, when she entered the room. 
 
 "That will be very difficult, for madame wears a 
 hair-cloth vest." 
 
 "What! such horrible things are still done in 
 the nineteenth century?" cried the great doctor. 
 
 " Madame Graslin has never allowed me to touch 
 her stomach," said Monsieur Roubaud. " I have had 
 no opportunity to find out anything concerning her
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 349 
 
 disease, except by the condition of her face, by her 
 pulse, and by such information as I obtained from 
 her mother and her maid." 
 
 They had placed Veronique on a couch while they 
 were preparing the state bed that stood at the end of 
 uie room. The doctors talked together in under- 
 tones. La Sauviat and Aline made the bed. The 
 faces of the two Auvergnats were ghastly to look 
 upon; their hearts were torn by the thought: 
 "We are making her bed for the last time, she 
 will die here!" 
 
 The consultation was not long. First of all, 
 Bianchon peremptorily ordered Aline and La Sauviat 
 to cut off the hair-cloth vest and put on a chemise, 
 despite the patient's remonstrances. During that 
 operation the two doctors went into the salon. When 
 Aline passed through, carrying that terrible instru- 
 ment of penance in a napkin, she said to them: 
 
 " Madame's body is nothing but one great sore!" 
 
 The doctors returned to the bedroom. 
 
 "Your will is stronger than Napoleon's, ma- 
 dame," said Bianchon, after various questions, 
 which Veronique answered clearly : " you retain 
 your mind and your faculties in the last stage of 
 the disease in which the Emperor lost his marvel- 
 lous intelligence. From what I know of you, I think 
 it best to tell you the truth." 
 
 "On my knees I beg you to do so," she said; 
 " you have the power to mete out to me what little 
 strength I still have, and I need all my life for a few 
 hours."
 
 350 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 "Think now of your salvation, nothing else," 
 said Bianchon. 
 
 " If God does me the favor to allow me to die 
 utterly," she replied, with a celestial smile, "pray 
 believe that that favor will be useful to the glory of 
 His Church. My presence of mind is necessary to 
 carry out a thought suggested by God, whereas 
 Napoleon had accomplished his whole destiny." 
 
 The two physicians stared at each other in amaze- 
 ment, when they heard her utter those words as 
 easily as if she were in her own salon. 
 
 "Ah! there is the doctor who will cure me," she 
 said, as she saw the archbishop enter. 
 
 She put forth all her strength to sit up in bed, to 
 bow graciously to Monsieur Bianchon and beg him 
 to accept something besides money for the good news 
 he had given her; she whispered a few words to her 
 mother, who led the doctor away; then she asked 
 the archbishop to excuse her until the cure should 
 come, and manifested a desire to take a little rest. 
 Aline sat up with her mistress. At midnight, Ma- 
 dame Graslin woke and asked for the archbishop and 
 the cure, and her maid pointed to them where they 
 knelt praying for her. She made a sign to her 
 mother and the servant to leave the room, and at 
 a second sign the two priests came to her pillow. 
 
 " Monseigneur, and you, monsieur le cure, I have 
 nothing to tell that you do not know. You were the 
 first, monseigneur, to cast your eye into my con- 
 science, you read my whole past there, and what 
 you saw was enough for you. My confessor, this
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 351 
 
 angel whom God placed by my side, knows some- 
 thing more: I have confessed everything to him. I 
 wish to consult you, whose minds are illumined by 
 the spirit of the Church, as to the manner in which, 
 as a true Christian, I should leave this earth. Do 
 you think, austere and holy men that you are, that, 
 if Heaven deigns to forgive the most perfect, the 
 most profound repentance that ever stirred a human 
 soul, do you think that I have fulfilled all my duties 
 here on earth?" 
 
 " Yes," said the archbishop, " yes, my daughter." 
 " No, father, no," she said, raising herself to a 
 sitting posture, while her eyes gleamed brightly. 
 "A few steps from here there is a grave in which 
 lies the body of an unfortunate man who bears the 
 weight of a horrible crime; in this sumptuous abode 
 there is a woman crowned with a high reputation for 
 benevolence and virtue. People bless that woman; 
 that poor young man is cursed! The criminal is 
 crushed with general reprobation, I enjoy general 
 esteem; I am mainly responsible for the crime, he is 
 largely responsible for the well-doing which has 
 earned for me so much renown and gratitude; cul- 
 prit that I am, I have the credit; he, a martyr to his 
 silence, is covered with shame! I shall die in a few 
 hours, knowing that a whole canton weeps for me, 
 that a whole department extols my benefactions, my 
 piety, my virtues; whereas he died amid insults, 
 before the eyes of a whole population that thronged 
 to the spot impelled by detestation of murderers! 
 You, my judges, are indulgent; but I hear a voice
 
 352 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 within me, an imperious voice that leaves me no 
 rest. Ah! God's hand, less gentle than yours, has 
 smitten me from day to day, as if to warn me that 
 my atonement was not complete. My faults can be 
 redeemed only by a public confession. He is happy! 
 Culpable, he gave up his life with ignominy in the 
 face of Heaven and earth. And I, I am still deceiving 
 society as I deceived the laws of mankind. I have 
 not received one word of homage that has not been 
 an insult to me, not a word of praise that has not 
 burned my heart. Do you not see, in the coming of 
 the procureur-general, a command from Heaven in 
 accord with the voice that cries out to me: 'Con- 
 fess!' " 
 
 The two priests, the prince of the Church and the 
 humble cure, those two great lights, kept their eyes 
 on the ground and did not speak. Too deeply moved 
 by the grandeur and the resignation of the culprit, 
 the judges were unable to pronounce sentence. 
 
 " My child," said the archbishop, after a time, 
 raising his fine head, wasted by the austere habits 
 of his devout life, "you go beyond the command- 
 ments of the Church. It is the Church's glory to 
 make its dogmas harmonize with the manners of 
 every epoch, for the Church is destined to traverse 
 centuries of centuries in company with mankind. 
 Secret confession has, according to its decisions, 
 taken the place of public confession. That substi- 
 tution makes the new law. The suffering you have 
 endured is sufficient. Die in peace: God has heard 
 you."
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 353 
 
 " But is not the wish of the criminal in conformity 
 with the laws of the early Church, which enriched 
 Heaven with as many saints and martyrs and con- 
 fessors as there are stars in the sky?" rejoined 
 Veronique, vehemently. "Who wrote: 'Confess ye 
 one to another"? was it not our Saviour's immediate 
 disciples? Let me confess my shame publicly, on 
 my knees. In that way I shall set right my offences 
 against the whole world, against a family outlawed 
 and almost exterminated by my fault. The world 
 must know that my benefactions are not an offering, 
 but a debt that I am paying. Suppose that, after I 
 am dead, some disclosure tears away the lying veil 
 that covers me? Ah! that thought hastens the final 
 hour." 
 
 "I see selfish thoughts in this, my child," said 
 the archbishop, gravely. " Very strong passions 
 are still alive in you; the passion that I thought 
 extinct is " 
 
 "Oh! I swear to you, monseigneur," she said, 
 interrupting the prelate and gazing at him with eyes 
 that were paralyzed with horror, "my heart is as 
 purified as that of a guilty and repentant woman can 
 be: there is no longer anything in my whole being 
 save the thought of God." 
 
 " Monseigneur, let us allow divine justice to take 
 its course," said the cure, in a voice broken with 
 emotion. "For four years I have been struggling 
 with this idea, it has been the subject of the only 
 disputes that have arisen between my penitent and 
 myself. My eyes have looked into the very bottom 
 23
 
 354 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 of that heart, the earth has no further claim there. If 
 the tears, the groans, the contrition of fifteen years 
 have dwelt upon a fault shared by two beings, do 
 not think that there has been the slightest trace of 
 carnal feeling in that long and terrible remorse. 
 Memory long since ceased to mingle its flames 
 with those of the most fervent penitence. Yes, 
 such floods of tears have extinguished that fire, 
 fierce as it was. I answer," he said, extending his 
 hand over Madame Graslin's head, and showing his 
 own eyes filled with tears, " I answer for the purity 
 of this archangelic soul. Moreover, I see in this 
 desire a purpose to make reparation to an absent 
 family, which is represented here to-day, by one of 
 those coincidences in which God's providence makes 
 itself manifest." 
 
 Veronique took the cure's trembling hand and 
 kissed it. 
 
 "You have very often been harsh to me, dear 
 pastor, but at this moment I see where your apos- 
 tolic gentleness was stored away! Do you," she 
 said, looking at the archbishop, " do you, the su- 
 preme head of this corner of God's kingdom, be my 
 staff in this hour of ignominy. I shall kneel the 
 lowest of women; you will raise me, forgiven and, 
 it may be, the equal of those who have never fallen." 
 
 The archbishop remained silent, evidently weigh- 
 ing all the arguments that his eagle eye discerned. 
 
 " Monseigneur," said the cure, "the religion has 
 received some heavy blows. Will not this return to 
 the ancient customs, necessitated by the magnitude
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 355 
 
 of the sin and the repentance, be a triumph which 
 will redound to our credit?" 
 
 "They will say that we are fanatics! they will 
 say that we demanded that this cruel scene should 
 be enacted!" 
 
 And the archbishop resumed his meditation. 
 
 At that moment, Horace Bianchon and Roubaud 
 returned to the room after knocking at the door. 
 When the door opened, Veronique saw her mother, 
 her son, and the whole household praying. The 
 cures from two neighboring parishes had come to 
 assist Monsieur Bonnet, and perhaps also to salute 
 the great prelate, whom the French clergy unani- 
 mously supported for the cardinalate, hoping that the 
 light of his essentially Gallican intellect would illu- 
 mine the Holy College. Horace Bianchon was about 
 to start for Paris; he came to bid the dying woman 
 adieu, and to thank her for her munificence. He 
 entered the room slowly, divining from the attitude 
 of the two priests that they were deliberating con- 
 cerning the method of treating the disease of the 
 heart which had caused that of the body. He took 
 Veronique's hand, placed it on the bed, and felt her 
 pulse. The scene was made doubly solemn by the 
 most profound stillness, the stillness of a summer 
 night in the country. The great salon, the folding- 
 doors of which were left open, was lighted for the 
 benefit of the small gathering of people who were 
 praying there, all on their knees, except the two 
 priests, who were sitting and reading their brevia- 
 ries. Beside the magnificent state bed were the
 
 356 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 prelate, in his violet robes, the cure, and the two 
 men of science. 
 
 "She is excited even in death!" said Horace 
 Bianchon, who, like all men of great talent, often 
 uttered words that were as grand as the spectacles 
 he witnessed. 
 
 The archbishop rose, as if impelled by an inward 
 impulse; he called Monsieur Bonnet and walked to- 
 ward the door; they passed through the chamber 
 and the salon and went out on the terrace, where 
 they walked back and forth for some moments. 
 When they returned, after discussing this case of 
 ecclesiastical discipline, Roubaud came to meet them. 
 
 " Monsieur Bianchon sends me to bid you make 
 haste; Madame Graslin is dying in a state of excite- 
 ment not due to the excessive suffering caused by 
 the disease." 
 
 The archbishop quickened his pace, and said, as 
 he entered the room, to Madame Graslin, who looked 
 anxiously into his face: 
 
 " You shall be gratified !" 
 
 Bianchon still had his hand on the patient's wrist; 
 he uttered an exclamation of surprise and glanced at 
 Roubaud and the two priests. 
 
 " Monseigneur, this body is no longer in our 
 domain: your words have restored life where death 
 had entered. You would make one believe in mira- 
 cles!" 
 
 "For a long time madame has been all soul!" 
 said Roubaud, and Veronique thanked him with a 
 glance.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 357 
 
 At that moment, a smile, in which was depicted the 
 happiness caused by the thought of a complete atone- 
 ment, restored to her face the innocent expression it 
 had worn at eighteen years. All the painful emotions 
 inscribed in the deep wrinkles, the leaden coloring, 
 the livid marks, all the details that made her face 
 beautiful with such a ghastly beauty when it ex- 
 pressed grief alone, in a word, the changes of every 
 sort disappeared; it seemed to all who saw her that 
 Veronique had worn a mask hitherto and that that 
 mask had fallen. For the last time occurred this 
 marvellous phenomenon whereby that woman's face 
 expressed her life and her feelings. Everything in 
 her was purified, illumined, and there was upon her 
 features something like a reflection of the flaming 
 swords of the guardian angels who surrounded her. 
 Once more she was what she was when Limoges 
 called her the fair Madame Graslin. The love of 
 God made itself manifest, more powerful than guilty 
 love had ever been: the latter formerly placed in 
 relief all the forces of life, the other put aside all 
 the weakness of death. A stifled cry was heard: 
 La Sauviat appeared and rushed to the bedside, 
 exclaiming: 
 
 "At last I see my child once more!" 
 
 The old woman's expression as she uttered those 
 words, " my child," recalled so vividly the primitive 
 innocence of children, that the spectators of that 
 noble death turned their heads away to conceal their 
 emotion. The illustrious physician took Madame 
 Graslin's hand and kissed it, then went away. The
 
 358 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 sound of his carriage wheels broke the profound 
 silence, saying that there was no hope of preserving 
 the soul of that country-side. The archbishop, the 
 cure, the physician, all those who were conscious 
 of fatigue, went to take a little rest when Madame 
 Graslin herself fell asleep for a few hours. She 
 awoke at dawn, asking that her windows might be 
 opened. She wished to see the rising of her last 
 sun. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the archbishop, clad in his pon- 
 tifical robes, came to Madame Graslin's chamber. 
 The prelate and Monsieur Bonnet had such abso- 
 lute confidence in that woman, that they said 
 nothing to her as to the limits within which 
 she should confine her disclosures. Veronique no- 
 ticed an assemblage of clergymen more numerous 
 than the church of Montegnac could accommodate, 
 for those from all the neighboring communes had 
 come to the village. Monseigneur was to be as- 
 sisted by four cures. The magnificent altar orna- 
 ments, presented by Madame Graslin to her beloved 
 parish, gave great brilliancy to the ceremony. Eight 
 choir boys, in their red and white costumes, were 
 drawn up in two lines from the bed to the salon, 
 each of them holding one of the enormous candle- 
 sticks of gilded bronze that Veronique had had sent 
 from Paris. The cross and banner of the church 
 were held by two white-haired sacristans on each 
 side of the platform on which the bed stood. 
 Thanks to the zeal of the servants of the chateau, 
 the wooden altar, taken from the sacristy, was
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 359 
 
 placed beside the door of the salon, all decorated 
 and prepared, so that monseigneur could say mass 
 there. Madame Graslin was touched by these at- 
 tentions, which the Church accords only to royal- 
 ties. 
 
 The two wings of the door opening into the dining- 
 room were thrown open, so that she could see the 
 whole ground-floor of her chateau filled with a large 
 part of the population of the village. Her friends 
 had provided for everything, for the salon was occu- 
 pied exclusively by the servants of her household. 
 In front, grouped before the door of her bedroom, 
 were her chosen friends and those persons upon 
 whose discretion reliance could be placed. Mes- 
 sieurs Grossetete, De Granville, Roubaud, Gerard, 
 Clousier, and Ruffin took their places in the first 
 row. They were all to rise at the proper moment 
 and remain standing to prevent the voice of the 
 penitent being heard by any others than themselves. 
 There was another circumstance, fortunate for the 
 dying woman: her friends' sobs drowned her words. 
 
 In front of all the others were two persons who 
 presented an imposing spectacle. The first was 
 Denise Tascheron: her garments of quaker-like sim- 
 plicity made her unrecognizable to those of the vil- 
 lagers who could see her; but to the other personage 
 she was an acquaintance not easily forgotten, and 
 her appearance was a terrifying gleam of light. The 
 procureur-general caught a glimpse of the truth; he 
 suddenly became aware of the role he had played 
 with Madame Graslin in all its significance. Less
 
 360 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 dominated than the others by the religious question, 
 in his capacity of child of the nineteenth century, 
 the magistrate was conscious of a pang of intense 
 horror at his heart, for he was able then to compre- 
 hend the drama of Veronique's secret life at the 
 hotel Graslin during the Tascheron trial. That 
 tragic epoch recurred to his memory, illumined by 
 old La Sauviat's eyes, which, gleaming with hatred, 
 fell upon him like two streams of molten lead; that 
 old woman, standing within ten steps of him, forgave 
 nothing. That man, the representative of human 
 justice, shuddered. Pale, wounded to the heart, he 
 dared not turn his eyes to the bed where the woman 
 he had loved so well, lying livid under the hand of 
 death, derived the strength to hold the death-agony 
 at bay from the very magnitude of her sin; and 
 Veronique's emaciated profile, standing sharply out 
 against the red damask, gave him the vertigo. At 
 eleven o'clock the mass began. When the epistle 
 had been read by the cure of Vizay, the archbishop 
 laid aside his dalmatic and took his stand in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Christians, gathered together here to witness 
 the ceremony of extreme unction which we are about 
 to confer upon the mistress of this house," he said; 
 " you who add your prayers to those of the Church, 
 to intercede for her with God, and to obtain her 
 everlasting salvation, are now informed that she 
 does not deem herself worthy, at this supreme hour, 
 to receive the blessed viaticum until she has made, 
 for the edification of her neighbor, public confession
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 361 
 
 of the greatest of her sins. We have resisted her 
 pious wish, although that act of contrition was long 
 customary in the early days of Christianity; but as 
 this poor woman has told us that the rehabilita- 
 tion of an unhappy child of this parish is involved 
 herein, we leave her at liberty to follow the inspira- 
 tion of her repentance." 
 
 Having uttered these words with fervent pastoral 
 dignity, the archbishop turned to give place to Vero- 
 nique. The dying woman appeared, supported by 
 her aged mother and the cure, two grand and vener- 
 able images: did she not owe her body to her earthly 
 mother and her soul to her spiritual mother, the 
 Church? She knelt upon a cushion, clasped her 
 hands, and was silent for a few moments, as if col- 
 lecting strength to speak from some spring supplied 
 by Heaven. At that moment there was something 
 indefinably terrifying in the silence. No one dared 
 to glance at his neighbor. All eyes were cast down. 
 But Veronique's eyes, when she raised them, met 
 those of the procureur-general, and the expression 
 upon that face, now perfectly white, made her blush. 
 
 " I could not die in peace," said Veronique, in a 
 trembling voice, " if I should leave behind me the 
 false image of myself which each one of you who 
 listen to me may have formed. You see in me a 
 great criminal, who commends herself to your 
 prayers, and who seeks to make herself worthy 
 of forgiveness by the public confession of her sin. 
 That sin was so grave, it had such fatal results, 
 that no penance, perhaps, will atone for it. But
 
 362 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the more humiliations I undergo upon this earth, 
 the less reason I shall have to dread the divine 
 wrath in the heavenly kingdom to which I aspire. 
 My father, who had such perfect confidence in me, 
 commended to my favor, nearly twenty years ago, 
 a child of this parish, in whom he had discovered 
 a desire to behave well, an aptitude for study, and 
 many excellent qualities. That child was the un- 
 fortunate Jean-Francois Tascheron, who became at- 
 tached to me as his benefactress. How did the 
 affection I bore him become guilty? that is some- 
 thing which I think I may be excused from explain- 
 ing. Perhaps you would see the purest sentiments 
 that guide our actions here on earth insensibly turned 
 aside from their natural bent by extraordinary sacri- 
 fices, by reasons due to our weakness, by a multitude 
 of causes which might seem to lessen the magnitude 
 of my sin. Even if the noblest sentiments were my 
 accomplices, am I the less guilty for that? I prefer 
 to admit that I, who by reason of my education and 
 my rank in society might deem myself superior to 
 the child whom my father entrusted to me, and from 
 whom I was separated by the delicacy natural to our 
 sex, that. I, to my undoing, listened to the voice of 
 the demon. I soon found myself far too much that 
 young man's mother, to be insensible to his silent, 
 unobtrusive admiration. He was the first to appre- 
 ciate me at my true worth. Perhaps I was myself 
 led astray by arguments horrible to think of: I 
 thought how discreet a young man who owed every- 
 thing to me would surely be, a young man, too,
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 363 
 
 whom chance had placed so far beneath me, although 
 we were equals in point of birth. In a word, I found 
 in my reputation for benevolence and my pious occu- 
 pations a cloak to shelter my conduct. Alas! and 
 that was unquestionably one of my greatest sins 
 I concealed my passion in the shadow of the altar. 
 The most virtuous actions, the love I bear my 
 mother, acts of genuine and sincere piety amid so 
 much straying from the straight path I made them 
 all serve the miserable triumph of an insane passion, 
 and they were so many bonds that held me fast. 
 My poor, adored mother, who hears me now, was 
 for a long time an unwitting, innocent accomplice of 
 my wrong-doing. When she opened her eyes, too 
 many dangerous steps had been taken for her not 
 to seek in her mother-heart strength to keep silent. 
 Thus, in her case, silence became the most exalted 
 of virtues. Her love for her daughter triumphed 
 over her love for God. Ah! I solemnly relieve her 
 from the heavy burden she has borne. She will end 
 her days without a lie in her eyes or on her brow. 
 May her mother-love be free from reproach, may her 
 noble and sanctified old age, crowned with virtues, 
 shine with all its splendor, and be relieved from the 
 link by which she has been indirectly connected with 
 so much infamy!" 
 
 At this point, tears choked Veronique's voice for a 
 moment ; Aline gave her salts to smell. 
 
 " Not anyone, even the devoted servant who ren- 
 ders me this last service, has failed to be kinder 
 to me than I deserve, and to pretend, at least, not to
 
 364 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 know what she knew; but she has been in the secret 
 of the austerities by which I have subdued this flesh, 
 which was weak. Therefore I ask pardon of society 
 for having deceived it, impelled as I was by the terri- 
 ble logic of society. Jean-Francois Tascheron was 
 not so guilty as society believed. Ah! I implore all 
 you who hear me to consider his youth and a passion 
 inflamed no less by the remorse that seized me, than 
 by involuntary fascinations. More than that ! It was 
 uprightness, but uprightness ill applied, that caused 
 the greatest of all our misfortunes. We could neither 
 X)f us endure that constant deception. He appealed 
 from it, poor fellow, to my own pride, and sought to 
 render that fatal love as little injurious as possible 
 to another. Thus I was the cause of his crime. Im- 
 pelled by necessity, the unhappy man, guilty of too 
 great devotion to an idol, selected among all possible 
 reprehensible acts that one of which the consequences 
 were irreparable. I knew nothing of it until the mo- 
 ment that it happened. In its execution, the hand of 
 God overthrew that whole scaffolding of false calcu- 
 lations. I returned home, having heard shrieks that 
 still echo in my ears, having divined a murderous 
 struggle which it was not in my power to prevent 
 I, the cause of that madness. Tascheron had gone 
 mad, I swear to you." 
 
 At that point, Veronique looked at the procureur- 
 general, and a profound sigh issued from Denise's 
 breast. 
 
 " His reason left him when he saw what he be- 
 lieved to be his happiness destroyed by unforeseen
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 365 
 
 circumstances. The unhappy youth, led astray by 
 his heart, marched on from a fault to a crime, and 
 from a crime to a double murder. It is certain that 
 he left my mother's house an innocent man, he re- 
 turned there guilty. I alone in all the world knew 
 that there was no premeditation nor any of the aggra- 
 vating circumstances which led to his death-sentence. 
 A hundred times I started to give myself up to save 
 him, and a hundred times a ghastly heroism, neces- 
 sary and masterful, caused the words to die upon 
 my lips. It may be that my presence within a few 
 steps contributed to inspire in him the hateful, the 
 infamous, the ignoble courage of assassins. Had he 
 been alone he would have fled. I had shaped that 
 soul, trained that mind, filled that heart; I knew 
 him, he was incapable of cowardice or baseness. 
 Do justice to that innocent arm, do justice to him 
 whom God in His clemency allows to sleep in peace 
 in the grave you have watered with your tears, 
 divining the truth, I doubt not ! Punish, curse the 
 culprit who is here before you ! Dismayed by the 
 crime when it had been committed, I did everything 
 to conceal it. I had been charged by my father, I 
 who had no children, to lead one of them to God; 
 I led him to the scaffold. Ah! pour out all your re- 
 proaches upon me, crush me, now is the time !" 
 
 As she spoke, her eyes gleamed with savage pride. 
 The archbishop, standing behind her and protecting 
 her with his pastoral cross, laid aside his impassive 
 attitude and covered his eyes with his right hand. 
 A muffled shriek was heard, as if someone were
 
 366 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 dying. Gerard and Roubaud caught Denise Tasche- 
 ron in their arms, as she fell in a swoon, and carried 
 her from the room. That spectacle partially ex- 
 tinguished the fire in Veronique's eyes; she was dis- 
 turbed, but her martyr's serenity soon reappeared. 
 
 " You know now," she continued, " that I deserve 
 neither praise nor benedictions for my conduct here. 
 To obtain admission into Heaven, I have led a secret 
 life of agonizing penances which Heaven will esti- 
 mate at what they are worth! My outward life has 
 been one great reparation for the evil I have caused. 
 I have written my repentance in ineffaceable lines 
 upon this estate; it will endure almost forever. It 
 is written in the fertilized fields, in the greater size 
 of the village, in the streams guided from the moun- 
 tains to this plain, formerly wild and untilled, now 
 green and fruitful. Not a tree will be cut here for a 
 hundred years to come that the people will not re- 
 member the remorse to which they owe its shade! 
 Thus this repentant soul, which would have ani- 
 mated a long life, beneficial to this canton, will long 
 breathe among you. All that you would have owed 
 to his talents, to a fortune worthily acquired, has 
 been performed by the heir of his repentance, by 
 her who caused his crime. Everything that con- 
 cerns society has been atoned for; I alone bear the 
 burden of that life, cut off in its flower, which had 
 been entrusted to me and for which I am to be held 
 responsible!" 
 
 Again tears dimmed the flame of her glance. She 
 paused.
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 367 
 
 " There is a man among you, who, because he did 
 his duty strictly, has been to me the object of a 
 detestation which I believed to be undying," she 
 resumed. " He was the first instrument of my 
 punishment. I was too near the deed, my feet were 
 too deep in blood for me not to hate the law. So 
 long as that seed of wrath flourished in my heart, I 
 realized that there was a remnant of blameworthy 
 passion there; I had nothing to forgive, I simply 
 purged that corner where the Evil One was hiding. 
 Painful as the victory has been, it is complete." 
 
 The procureur-general showed Veronique a face 
 wet with tears. Human justice seemed to be suffer- 
 ing from remorse. When the penitent turned her 
 head in order to continue, she met the tear-bedewed 
 face of an old man, Grossete'te, who put out his 
 hands imploringly, as if to say: " Enough!" At that 
 moment, that sublime creature heard such a concert 
 of weeping, and was so moved by such an outpour- 
 ing of sympathy, that she could not endure the 
 balm of that general pardon, but was seized with an 
 attack of faintness; seeing that the source of her 
 strength had failed her, her old mother recovered 
 her youthful strength once more to carry her to the 
 bed. 
 
 "Christians," said the archbishop, "you have 
 heard this penitent's confession; she confirms the 
 sentence of the law, and her words may set at rest 
 the scruples or the anxiety of its officers. You must 
 have found herein fresh motives for adding your 
 prayers to those of the Church, which offers to God
 
 368 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 the blessed sacrifice of the mass in order to implore 
 His pity in favor of such a signal repentance." 
 
 The service was resumed; Veronique followed it 
 with an expression which denoted such inward satis- 
 faction, that she seemed to all eyes to be a different 
 woman. There was an innocent look upon her face, 
 worthy of the pure and ingenuous maiden she had 
 been in the old paternal home. The dawn of eter- 
 nity was already whitening her forehead and gilding 
 her face with celestial tints. Doubtless she heard 
 bursts of mystic melody, and gathered strength 
 to live from her longing to be united to God at 
 last; the cure Bonnet came to the bedside and 
 gave her absolution; the archbishop administered 
 the consecrated oil with a paternal affection that 
 revealed to all those present how dear to his heart 
 was that wandering lamb now returned to the 
 fold. With blessed ointment the priest closed to the 
 things of this earth those eyes that had done so 
 much harm, and placed the seal of the Church on 
 the too eloquent lips. The ears, through which evil 
 suggestions had found their way, were closed for- 
 ever. All the senses, benumbed by penance, were 
 thus sanctified, and the spirit of evil was left with- 
 out power over that soul. Never did spectators 
 more fully understand the grandeur and solemnity 
 of a sacrament than those who saw the labors of the 
 Church justified by that dying woman's confession. 
 Thus prepared, Veronique received the body of 
 Jesus Christ with an expression of hope and joy 
 which melted the ice of incredulity which had so
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 369 
 
 often baffled the cure: Roubaud, abashed, became a 
 Catholic in a moment ! That spectacle was at once 
 touching and awful ; but it was made so solemn by 
 virtue of the arrangement of the accessories that the 
 painter's art might have found there a subject for a 
 genuine masterpiece. 
 
 When, after that sorrowful episode, the dying 
 woman heard the words of the Gospel of Saint John 
 commenced, she motioned to her mother to bring her 
 son, who had been led into the room by his tutor. 
 When she saw Francis kneeling on the platform, the 
 pardoned mother thought that she was entitled to 
 place her hands upon his head to bless him; then 
 she breathed her last. Old La Sauviat was there, at 
 her post, as for twenty years past. That woman, 
 heroic in her way, closed the eyes of her daughter, 
 who had suffered so, and kissed them one after 
 the other. All the priests, followed by the clergy, 
 surrounded the bed. By the bright light of the 
 tapers, they intoned the awe-inspiring De Profundis, 
 the strains of which informed the people kneeling 
 in front of the chateau, the friends who were pray- 
 ing in the various rooms, and all the servants, that 
 the mother of that canton was no more. The chant 
 was accompanied by universal lamentations and 
 weeping. That noble woman's confession had not 
 been heard beyond the doorway of the salon, and 
 had had only friendly ears for auditors. When the 
 peasants from the neighborhood, mingled with those 
 of Montegnac, came, praying and weeping, one by 
 one, to bid their benefactress a last adieu, with a 
 24
 
 370 THE VILLAGE CURE 
 
 green branch, they saw an officer of the law over- 
 whelmed with grief, holding the cold hand of the 
 woman whom he had so unwittingly, but so justly, 
 wounded. 
 
 Two days later, the procureur-general, Grossette, 
 the archbishop, and the mayor, holding the four 
 corners of the pall, escorted Madame Graslin's body 
 to its last resting-place. It was laid in the grave 
 amid a profound silence. Not a word was spoken, 
 no one had strength to speak, every eye was filled 
 with tears. " She is a saint !" was a remark made 
 on all sides as they went away along the roads built 
 by her in the canton she had enriched a remark 
 made to her creations as if to give them life. No one 
 thought it strange that Madame Graslin should be 
 buried beside the body of Jean-Francois Tascheron; 
 she did not ask it; but the old mother, with a remnant 
 of loving pity, had requested the sacristan to place 
 together those whom earth had so violently separated, 
 and who were united, by repentance for the same 
 sin, in purgatory. 
 
 Madame Graslin's will realized all anticipations con- 
 cerning it. She endowed scholarships at the College 
 of Limoges, and beds at the hospital, for the benefit of 
 workingmen alone; she set aside a considerable sum, 
 three hundred thousand francs in six years, for the 
 purchase of that part of the village called Les Tas- 
 cherons, where she provided that a hospital should be 
 built. That hospital, for the indigent old people of 
 the canton, for the sick, for women in want at the 
 time of their confinement, and for foundlings, was to
 
 THE VILLAGE CURE 371 
 
 be called the hospital of Les Tascherons; Veronique 
 wished it to be carried on by the Gray Sisters, and 
 fixed the salaries of the physician and the surgeon 
 at four thousand francs. She requested Roubaud to 
 be the first physician of the institution, entrusting 
 him to select the surgeon and to superintend the 
 carrying out of her plan, conjointly with Gerard, 
 who was to be the architect. She gave, in addition, 
 to the commune of Montegnac, an amount of tillage 
 land sufficient to pay its taxes to the State. The 
 Church, endowed with a relief fund, to be used in cer- 
 tain exceptional cases, was to exercise oversight over 
 young men, and to be on the watch for natives of 
 Montegnac who manifested an inclination for the arts, 
 sciences, or manufacturing. The judicious benevo- 
 lence of the testatrix provided what sum was to be 
 taken from that fund to encourage such inclinations. 
 
 The news of her death, which was everywhere 
 received as a calamity, was accompanied by no in- 
 sinuations insulting to her memory. That reserve 
 was an act of homage rendered to such eminent 
 virtue by that hard-working Catholic people, who 
 are beginning anew in that corner of France the 
 miracles of the Edifying Letters. 
 
 Gerard, appointed guardian of Francis Graslin, 
 and required by the will to live at the chateau, took 
 up his abode there, but not until three months after 
 Veronique's death did he marry Denise Tascheron, 
 in whom Francis found a second mother. 
 
 Paris, January 1837 March 1845.
 
 LIST OF ETCHINGS 
 
 VOLUME XXXIX 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PUBLIC CONFESSION OF MME. GRASLIN . . Fronts. 
 
 THE APPEAL TO THE CURE 136 
 
 ON THE TERRACE AT MONTEGNAC 184 
 
 FARRABESCHE TO MME. GRASLIN 200 
 
 MME. GRASLIN, CATHERINE, AND M. GROSSETETE . 296 
 
 39 C. H., The Cure, N. & R. 373
 
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