the village rector-第54节

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attention　were　the　three　benefactors　of　a　whole　community　regarded！
Man　was　adding　a　hymn　of　gratitude　to　the　other　chants　of　evening。

While　Madame　Graslin　walked　on　with　her　eyes　fastened　on　the　long；
magnificent　green　pastures；　her　most　cherished　creation；　the　priest
and　the　mayor　did　not　take　their　eyes　from　the　groups　below；　whose
expression　it　was　impossible　to　misinterpret；　pain；　sadness；　and
regret；　mingled　with　hope；　were　plainly　on　all　those　faces。　No　one　in
Montegnac　or　its　neighborhood　was　ignorant　that　Monsieur　Roubaud　had
gone　to　Paris　to　bring　the　best　physician　science　afforded；　or　that
the　benefactress　of　the　whole　district　was　in　the　last　stages　of　a
fatal　illness。　In　all　the　markets　through　a　circumference　of　thirty
miles　the　peasants　asked　those　of　Montegnac；

〃How　is　your　good　woman　now？〃

The　great　vision　of　death　hovered　over　the　land；　and　dominated　that
rural　picture。　Afar；　in　the　fields；　more　than　one　reaper　sharpening
his　scythe；　more　than　one　young　girl；　her　arms　resting　on　her　fork；
more　than　one　farmer　stacking　his　hay；　seeing　Madame　Graslin；　stood
mute　and　thoughtful；　examining　that　noble　woman；　the　blessing　of　the
Correze；　seeking　some　favorable　sign　or　merely　looking　to　admire　her；
impelled　by　a　feeling　that　arrested　their　work。

〃She　is　out　walking；　therefore　she　must　be　better。〃

These　simple　words　were　on　every　lip。

Madame　Graslin's　mother；　seated　on　the　iron　bench　which　Veronique　had
formerly　placed　at　the　end　of　the　terrace；　studied　every　movement　of
her　daughter；　she　watched　her　step　in　walking；　and　a　few　tears　rolled
from　her　eyes。　Aware　of　the　secret　efforts　of　that　superhuman　courage；
she　knew　that　Veronique　at　that　moment　was　suffering　the　tortures　of　a
horrible　agony；　and　only　maintained　herself　erect　by　the　exercise　of
her　heroic　will。　The　tearsthey　seemed　almost　redwhich　forced　their
way　from　those　aged　eyes；　and　furrowed　that　wrinkled　face；　the
parchment　of　which　seemed　incapable　of　softening　under　any　emotion；
excited　those　of　young　Graslin；　whom　Monsieur　Ruffin　had　between　his
knees。

〃What　is　the　matter；　my　boy？〃　said　the　tutor；　anxiously。

〃My　grandmother　is　crying；〃　he　answered。

Monsieur　Ruffin；　whose　eyes　were　on　Madame　Graslin　as　she　came　toward
them；　now　looked　at　Madame　Sauviat；　and　was　powerfully　struck　by　the
aspect　of　that　old　head；　like　that　of　a　Roman　matron；　petrified　with
grief　and　moistened　with　tears。

〃Madame；　why　did　you　not　prevent　her　from　coming　out？〃　said　the　tutor
to　the　old　mother；　august　and　sacred　in　her　silent　grief。

As　Veronique　advanced　majestically　with　her　naturally　fine　and
graceful　step；　Madame　Sauviat；　driven　by　despair　at　the　thought　of
surviving　her　daughter；　allowed　the　secret　of　many　things　that
awakened　curiosity　to　escape　her。

〃How　can　she　walk　like　that；〃　she　cried；　〃wearing　a　horrible　horsehair
shirt；　which　pricks　into　her　skin　perpetually？〃

The　words　horrified　the　young　man；　who　was　not　insensible　to　the
exquisite　grace　of　Veronique's　movements；　he　shuddered　as　he　thought
of　the　constant　and　terrific　struggle　of　the　soul　to　maintain　its
empire　thus　over　the　body。

〃She　has　worn　it　thirteen　years；ever　since　she　ceased　to　nurse　the
boy；〃　said　the　old　woman。　〃She　has　done　miracles　here；　but　if　her
whole　life　were　known　they　ought　to　canonize　her。　Since　she　came　to
Montegnac　no　one　has　ever　seen　her　eat；　and　do　you　know　why？　Aline
serves　her　three　times　a　day　a　piece　of　dry　bread；　and　vegetables
boiled　in　water；　without　salt；　on　a　common　plate　of　red　earth　like
those　they　feed　the　dogs　on。　Yes；　that's　how　the　woman　lives　who　has
given　new　life　to　this　whole　canton。　She　kneels　to　say　her　prayers　on
the　edge　of　that　hair…shirt。　She　says　she　could　not　have　that　smiling
air　you　know　she　always　has　unless　she　practised　these　austerities。　I
tell　you　this；〃　added　the　old　woman；　sinking　her　voice；　〃so　that　you
may　repeat　it　to　the　doctor　that　Monsieur　Roubaud　has　gone　to　fetch。
If　they　could　prevent　my　daughter　from　continuing　these　penances；
perhaps　they　might　still　save　her；　though　death　has　laid　its　hand　upon
her　head。　See　for　yourself！　Ah！　I　must　be　strong　indeed　to　have　borne
so　many　things　these　fifteen　years。〃

The　old　woman　took　her　grandson's　hand　and　passed　it　over　her　forehead
and　cheeks　as　if　the　child's　touch　shed　a　healing　balm　there；　then　she
kissed　it　with　an　affection　the　secret　of　which　belongs　to
grandmothers　as　much　as　it　belongs　to　mothers。

Veronique　was　now　only　a　few　feet　from　the　bench；　in　company　with
Clousier；　the　rector；　and　Gerard。　Illuminated　by　the　glow　of　the
setting　sun；　she　shone　with　a　dreadful　beauty。　Her　yellow　forehead；
furrowed　with　long　wrinkles　massed　one　above　the　other　like　layers　of
clouds；　revealed　a　fixed　thought　in　the　midst　of　inward　troubles。　Her
face；　devoid　of　all　color；　entirely　white　with　the　dead；　greenish
whiteness　of　plants　without　light；　was　thin；　though　not　withered；　and
bore　the　signs　of　terrible　physical　sufferings　produced　by　mental
anguish。　She　fought　her　soul　with　her　body；　and　/vice　versa/。　She　was
so　completely　destroyed　that　she　no　more　resembled　herself　than　an　old
woman　resembles　her　portrait　as　a　girl。　The　ardent　expression　of　her
eyes　declared　the　despotic　empire　exercised　by　a　devout　will　over　a
body　reduced　to　what　religion　requires　it　to　be。　In　this　woman　the
soul　dragged　the　flesh　as　the　Achilles　of　profane　story　dragged
Hector；　for　fifteen　years　she　dragged　it　victoriously　along　the　stony
paths　of　life　around　the　celestial　Jerusalem　she　hoped　to　enter；　not
by　a　vile　deception；　but　with　acclamation。　No　solitary　that　ever　lived
in　the　dry　and　arid　deserts　of　Africa　was　ever　more　master　of　his
senses　than　was　Veronique　in　her　magnificent　chateau；　among　the　soft；
voluptuous　scenery　of　that　opulent　land；　beneath　the　protecting　mantle
of　that　rich　forest；　whence　science；　the　heir　of　Moses'　wand；　had
called　forth　plenty；　prosperity；　and　happiness　for　a　whole　region。　She
contemplated　the　results　of　twelve　years'　patience；　a　work　which　might
have　made　the　fame　of　many　a　superior　man；　with　a　gentle　modesty　such
as　Pontorno　has　painted　in　the　sublime　face　of　his　〃Christian　Chastity
caressing　the　Celestial　Unicorn。〃　The　mistress　of　the　manor；　whose
silence　was　respected　by　her　companions　when　they　saw　that　her　eyes
were　roving　over　those　vast　plains；　once　arid；　and　now　fertile　by　her
will；　walked　on；　her　arms　folded；　with　a　distant　look；　as　if　to　some
far　horizon；　on　her　face。



XX

THE　LAST　STRUGGLE

Suddenly　she　stopped；　a　few　feet　from　her　mother；　who　looked　at　her　as
the　mother　of　Christ　must　have　looked　at　her　son　upon　the　cross。　She
raised　her　hand；　and　pointing　to　the　spot　where　the　road　to　Montegnac
branched　from　the　highway；　she　said；　smiling：

〃See　that　carriage　with　the　post…horses；　Monsieur　Roubaud　is　returning
to　us。　We　shall　now　know　how　many　hours　I　have　to　live。〃

〃Hours？〃　said　Gerard。

〃Did　I　not　tell　you　I　was　taking　my　last　walk？〃　she　replied。　〃I　have
come　here　to　see　for　the　last　time　this　glorious　scene　in　all　its
splendor！〃　She　pointed　first　to　the　village　where　the　whole　population
seemed　to　be　collected　in　the　church　square；　and　then　to　the　beautiful
meadows　glowing　in　the　last　rays　of　the　setting　sun。　〃Ah！〃　she　said；
〃let　me　see　the　benediction　of　God　in　the　strange　atmospheric
condition　to　which　we　owe　the　safety　of　our　harvest。　Around　us；　on　all
sides；　tempests；　hail；　lightning；　have　struck　incessantly　and
pitilessly。　The　common　people　think　thus；　why　not　I？　I　do　so　need　to
see　in　this　a　happy　augury　for　what　awaits　me　after　death！〃

The　child　stood　up　and　took　his　mother's　hand　and　laid　it　on　his　head。
Veronique；　deeply　affected　by　the　action；　so　full　of　eloquence；　took
up　her　son　with　supernatural　strength；　seating　him　on　her　left　arm　as
though　he　were　still　an　infant　at　her　breast；　saying；　as　she　kissed
him：

〃Do　you　see　that　land；　my　son？　When　you　are　a　man；　continue　there　your
mother's　work。〃

〃Madame；〃　said　the　rector；　in　a　grave　voice；　〃a　few　strong　and
privileged　beings　are　able　to　contemplate　their　coming　death　face　to
face；　to　fight；　as　it　were；　a　duel　with　it；　and　to　display　a　courage
and　an　ability　which　challenge　admiration。　You　show　us　this　terrible
spectacle；　but　perhaps　you　have　too　little　pity　for　us；　leave　us　at
least　the　hope　that　you　may　be　mistaken；　and　that　God　will　allow　you
to　finish　that　which　you　have　begun。〃

〃All　I　have　done　is　through　you；　my　friends；〃　she　said。　〃I　have　been
useful；　I　can　be　so　no　longer。　All　is　fruitful　around　us　now；　nothing
is　barren　and　desolated　here　except　my　heart。　You　well　know；　my　dear
rector；　that　I　can　only　find　peace　and　pardon　/there/。〃

She　stretched　her　hand　toward　the　cemetery。　Never　had　she　said　as　much
since　the　day　of　her　arrival；　when　she　was　taken　with　sudden　illness
at　the　same　spot。　The　rector　looked　attentively　at　his　penitent；　and
the　habit　of　penetration　he　had　long　acquired　made　him　see　that　in
those　simple　words　he　had　won　another　triumph。　Veronique　must　have
made　a　mighty　effort　over　herself　to　break　her　twelve　years'　silence
with　a　speech　that　said　so　much。　The　rector　clasped　his　hands　with　a
fervent　gesture　that　was　natu