Madame de Bonmont had no difficulty in bringing Raoul Marcien and M.
l’Abbé Guitrel together at her house. The meeting was all that could
be desired, for on his part M. l’Abbé Guitrel was full of unction, and
Raoul, being a society man, knew what was due to the Church.
“Monsieur l’Abbé,” he said, “I come of a family of priests and
soldiers. I have been a soldier myself, and that means----”
He did not finish his sentence, for M. Guitrel held out his hand with a
smile, saying:
“We may call it the alliance of the sword and the aspersorium.” Then
immediately resuming his priestly gravity: “And that is the most
natural and the best of all alliances. We priests are soldiers too, and
as far as I am concerned I am very fond of the army.”
Madame de Bonmont gazed with sympathetic eyes at the Abbé, who
continued:
“In the diocese to which I belong we have started clubs, where the
soldiers can read good books as they smoke their cigars. The work is
under the patronage of Monseigneur Charlot, and is both flourishing and
useful. Let us not be unjust toward the age in which we live; if it
contains much evil it also holds much that is good. We are engaged in
a great fight, and that is, perhaps, to be preferred to the lukewarm
state of those whom a great Christian poet has described as being shut
out from both Heaven and Hell.”
Raoul approved of this speech, but ventured no reply. He did not
answer, by virtue of the fact that he had few ideas upon the subject,
and also because his whole mind was absorbed in the thought of the
three charges of cheating brought against him during the past week,
which made it impossible for him to follow any abstract or general
train of ideas.
Madame de Bonmont but dimly divined the real reason of his silence, and
M. Guitrel did not understand it at all. With an honest desire to do
the right thing, and keep the ball of conversation going, he asked M.
Marcien if he knew Colonel Gandouin.
“He is an excellent man in every way,” added the priest. “A fine
example of the Christian and the soldier. He is respected by every
right-thinking man in our diocese.”
“Do I know Colonel Gandouin!” cried Raoul. “I know him only too well.
I’ve had enough of him! I can’t bear the man!”
This outburst grieved Madame de Bonmont and startled M. Guitrel.
Neither of them knew that four years before Colonel Gandouin, with six
other officers, had ordered Captain Marcien to be placed on half-pay
for habitual dereliction of duty, that offence, selected from many
others, being the reason assigned.
From this moment the gentle Elizabeth gave up hoping that any good
would come of the interview which she had arranged to calm her Raoul,
to turn him away from thoughts of violence and bring him back to
thoughts of love. She opened her heart, however, and in a tearful voice
said to the Abbé:
“Don’t you think, M. l’Abbé, that when a man is young and has a fine
future before him, he ought not to give way to discouragement and
depression? Ought he not, on the contrary, to avoid all sad thoughts?”
“Certainly, Madame la Baronne, certainly,” replied M. l’Abbé Guitrel.
“We must never give way to discouragement, or abandon ourselves to
grief without cause. A good Christian never encourages gloomy thoughts,
Madame la Baronne, that is quite certain.”
“Do you hear, M. Marcien?” asked Madame de Bonmont.
But Raoul did not hear, and so the conversation dropped. Then Madame de
Bonmont, being a kind-hearted woman, and anxious in the midst of her
own worries to give a little pleasure to M. Guitrel, turned the topic
of conversation.
“And so, M. l’Abbé,” she said, “your favourite stone is the amethyst.”
Guessing the drift of her remark, the priest answered severely and even
harshly:
“Do not speak of that, Madame, I beg. Do not speak of that!”