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Part 1 Book 1 Chapter 10 The Bishop in the Presence of an Unknown Light

Word Count: 4648    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

n was to be believed, was even more hazardous than his trip across the mountains infested with bandits. In the country near

man was almost a monster. He had not voted for the death of the king, but almost. He was a quasi-regicide. He had been a terrible man. How did it happen that such a man had not been brought before a provost's court, on the return of the legitimate princ

city in this solitude of his. As he had not voted for the death of the king, he ha

ne knew exactly where. He had there, it was said, a sort of field, a hole, a lair. There were no neighbors, not even passers-by. Since he had dwelt in tha

at the horizon at a point where a clump of trees marked the valley of the former

in his own mind, "I

, and almost repulsive. For, at bottom, he shared the general impression, and the old member of the Convention inspired him, without his bei

sheep cause the shepherd to

. Sometimes he set out in tha

mber of the Convention in his hovel, had come in quest of a doctor; that the old wretch was dying,

s too threadbare cassock, as we have mentioned, and because o

ized the fact that he was near the lair. He strode over a ditch, leaped a hedge, made his way through a fence of dead boughs, entered a neglected paddock,

he arm-chair of the peasants, there was

boy, the shepherd lad. He was of

oke: "Thank you," he said, "I need nothing." And

, the old man turned his head, and his face expressed the sum tot

been here," said he, "that any one

hop ans

s Bienvenu

at name. Are you the man whom the

with a half-smile. "In tha

that sort."

to the Bishop, but the Bishop did not take it

e been misinformed. You certain

the old man, "I am

, and the

e three hou

contin

not? I had myself wheeled out here to take a last look at things. You can talk to me; it does not fatigue me. You have done well to come and look at a man who is on the point of death. It is well that there should be witnesses at that moment. One has one's c

rned to the sh

wert awake all last n

entered

h his eyes, and added, as th

leeps. The two slumbers

, was so fond of laughing at "His Grace," was rather shocked at not being addressed as Monseigneur, and he was almost tempted to retort "citizen." He was assailed by a fancy for peevish familiarity, common enough to doctors and priests, but whic

est cordiality, in which one could have distinguished, possibly, that hum

m, his body almost upright, his voice vibrating, was one of those octogenarians who form the subject of astonishment to the physiologist. The Revolution had many of these men, proportioned to the epoch. In this old man one was conscious of a man put to the proof. Though so near to his end, he preserved all the gestures of health. In his clear glance, in his firm tone, in the robust movement of his shoulders, there was something calculated to disconcert death. Azrael, the Mo

. The Bishop sat down.

hich one uses for a reprimand. "You did not

e the bitter meaning underlying the words "after all." H

o much, sir. I did vote fo

usterity answering t

an to say?" res

rant. That tyrant engendered royalty, which is authority falsely understood, while

nce," added

ce is the quantity of innate sc

some astonishment to this langu

the Conventi

for woman, the end of slavery for man, the end of night for the child. In voting for the Republic, I voted for that. I voted for fraternity, concord, the dawn. I have aided in the overthrow of prejudices and errors

," said th

Alas! The work was incomplete, I admit: we demolished the ancient regime in deeds; we were not able to suppress it entirely i

use to demolish, but I distrust a d

portant step of the human race since the advent of Christ. Incomplete, it may be, but sublime. It set free all the unknown social quantities; it softened spirits, it c

d not refrain f

? '9

his chair with an almost lugubrious solemnity, and excla

orming for the space of fifteen hundred years; at the end of fifteen

something within him had suffered extinction. Neverth

ich is nothing but a more lofty justice. A thunderbolt should commit no error." And

hed forth his hand and g

n. To me, the brother of Cartouche, an innocent child who was hung up by the armpits in the Place de Greve, until death ensued, for the sole crime of having been the brother o

shop, "I like not this

V.? To which of the

almost regretted having come, and yet

ntionary

sh speaker of truths. When he cried, `Sinite parvulos,' he made no distinction between the little children. It would not have embarrassed him to bring together the Dau

said the Bishop

ll martyrs, all children, the lowly as well as the exalted? I agree to that. But in that case, as I have told you, we must go back further than '93, and our

all," said

the balance must incline, let it be on the side

t of his cheek between his thumb and his forefinger, as one does mechanically when one interrogates and judges

have left it yonder, behind the coppice at the fork of the roads, no doubt. I do not know you, I tell you. You have told me that you are the Bishop; but that affords me no information as to your moral personality. In short, I repeat my question. Who are you? You are a bishop; that is to say, a prince of the church, one of those gilded men with heraldic bearings and revenues, who have vast prebends,--the bishopric of D---- fifteen thousand francs settled income, ten thousand in perquisites; total, twenty-five thousand francs,-- who have kitchens, who have liveries, who make good cheer

ead and replied, "Ver

in a carriage?" growl

turn to be arrogant, and

p resumed

how my good table and the moor-hens which I eat on Friday, how my twenty-five thousand francs incom

hand across his brow, as th

u courtesy. You discuss my ideas, and it becomes me to confine myself to combating your arguments. Your riches and your pleasures are advantages wh

ou," said

resu

What were you saying to me? That '93 was inexorable?" "Inexorable; yes," said

e directness of a point of steel. The Bishop quivered under it; no reply occurred to him; but he was offended by this mode of allud

e? Maillard is terrible; but Saulx-Tavannes, if you please? Duchene senior is ferocious; but what epithet will you allow me for the elder Letellier? Jourdan-Coupe-Tete is a monster; but not so great a one as M. the Marquis de Louvois. Sir, sir, I am sorry for Marie Antoinette, archduchess and queen; but I am also sorry for that poor Huguenot woman, who, in 1685, under Louis the Great, sir, while with a nursing infant, was bound, naked to the waist, to a stake, and the child kept at a distance; her breast swelled with milk and her heart with anguish; the little one, hungry a

the conventionary concluded his t

hen they are over, this fact is recognized,--that the human

Bishop. One remained, however, and from this intrenchment, the last resource of Monseigneur Bienven

have an impious servitor. He who is an athe

heaven, and in his glance a tear gathered slowly. When the eyelid was full, the tear trickled down his livid c

eal! Thou alo

rienced an inde

man raised a finger h

uld be without limit; it would not be infinite; in other words, it woul

e had spoken, his eyes closed. The effort had exhausted him. It was evident that he had just lived through in a moment the few hour

treme coldness he had passed by degrees to extreme emotion; he gazed at those closed e

you not think that it would be r

again. A gravity mingled with gloo

such a degree that we were forced to shore up the walls, which were on the point of bursting beneath the weight of gold and silver; I dined in Dead Tree Street, at twenty-two sous. I have succored the oppressed, I have comforted the suffering. I tore the cloth from the altar, it is true; but it was to bind up the wounds of my country. I have always upheld the march forward of the human race, forward towards the light, and I have sometimes resisted progress without pity. I have, when the occasion offered, protected my own adversaries, men of your profession. And there is at Peteghem, in Flanders, at the very spot where the Merovingian kings ha

ing," said

knelt

n, the face of the conventionary had

e whole night in prayer. On the following morning some bold and curious persons attempted to sp

tenderness and brotherly feeling t

tion. No one could say that the passage of that soul before his, and the reflection of th

shed an occasion for a murmur of comm

conversion to be expected. All those revolutionists are backsliders. Then why go there? What was th

, "Monseigneur, people are inquiring when Your Greatness will receive the red cap!"--"Oh! oh! that's a

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