"Make haste, reverend father, and open the door; a poor, despairing,
sick man is in need of your spiritual ministrations."
The good, kind man put on his trousers as quickly as he could and came
down without his cassock. I told him in a breathless voice that my uncle,
the freethinker, had been taken suddenly ill. Fearing it was going to be
something serious he had been seized with a sudden fear of death, and
wished to see a priest and talk to him; to have his advice and comfort,
to make up with the Church, and to confess, so as to be able to cross the
dreaded threshold at peace with himself; and I added in a mocking tone:
"At any rate, he wishes it, and if it does him no good it can do him
no harm."
The old Jesuit, who was startled, delighted, and almost trembling,
said to me:
"Wait a moment, my son, I will come with you."
But I replied: "Pardon me. Father, if I do not go with you; but my
convictions will not allow me to do so. I even refused to come and fetch
you, so I beg you not to say that you have seen me, but to declare that
you had a presentiment--a sort of revelation of his illness."
The priest consented, and went off quickly, knocked at my uncle's door,
was soon let in, and I saw the black cassock disappear within that
stronghold of Free-thought.
I hid under a neighbouring gateway to wait for events. Had he been well,
my uncle would have half murdered the Jesuit, but I knew that he would
be unable to move an arm, and I asked myself, gleefully, what sort of a
scene would take place between these antagonists--what fight, what
explanation would be given, and what would be the issue of this situation,
which my uncle's indignation would render more tragic still?
I laughed till I had to hold my sides, and said to myself, half
aloud: "Oh! what a joke, what a joke!"
Meanwhile it was getting very cold. I noticed that the Jesuit stayed
a long time, and thought: "They are having an explanation, I suppose."
One, two, three hours passed, and still the reverend Father did not
come out. What had happened? Had my uncle died in a fit when he saw
him, or had he killed the cassocked gentleman? Perhaps they had mutually
devoured each other? This last supposition appeared very unlikely, for
I fancied that my uncle was quite incapable of swallowing a grain more
nourishment at that moment.
At last the day dawned. I was very uneasy, and not venturing to go into
the house myself, I went to one of my friends who lived opposite. I roused
him, explained matters to him, much to his amusement and astonishment, and
took possession of his window.
At nine o'clock he relieved me and I got a little sleep. At two
o'clock I, in my turn, replaced him. We were utterly astonished.
At six o'clock the Jesuit left, with a very happy and satisfied look
on his face, and we saw him go away with a quiet step.
Then, timid and ashamed, I went and knocked at my uncle's door. When
the servant opened it I did not dare to ask her any questions, but went
upstairs without saying a word.
My uncle was lying pale, exhausted, with weary, sorrowful eyes and
heavy arms, on his bed. A little religious picture was fastened to one of
the bed-curtains with a pin.
"Why, uncle," I said, "you in bed still? Are you not well?"
He replied in a feeble voice:
"Oh! my dear boy, I have been very ill; nearly dead."
"How was that, uncle?"
"I don't know; it was most surprising. But what is stranger still,
is that the Jesuit priest who has just left--you know, that excellent
man whom I have made such fun of--had a divine revelation of my state,
and came to see me."
I was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh, and with
difficulty said: "Oh, really!"
"Yes, he came. He heard a Voice telling him to get up and come to me,
because I was going to die. It was a revelation."
I pretended to sneeze, so as not to burst out laughing; I felt inclined
to roll on the ground with amusement.
In about a minute I managed to say, indignantly: "And you received him,
uncle, you? You, a freethinker, a freemason? You did not have him thrown
out?"
He seemed confused, and stammered:
"Listen a moment, it is so astonishing--so astonishing and providential!
He also spoke to me about my father; he knew him formerly."
"Your father, uncle? But that is no reason for receiving a Jesuit."
"I know that, but I was very ill, and he looked after me most devotedly
all night long. He was perfect; no doubt he saved my life; those men are
all more or less doctors."
"Oh! he looked after you all night? But you said just now that he had
only been gone a very short time."
"That is quite true; I kept him to breakfast after all his kindness. He
had it at a table by my bedside while I drank a cup of tea."
"And he ate meat?"
My uncle looked vexed, as if I had said something very much out of
place, and then added:
"Don't joke, Gaston; such things are out of place at times. He has
shown me more devotion than many a relation would have done and I expect
you to respect his convictions."
This rather upset me, but I answered, nevertheless: "Very well, uncle;
and what did you do after breakfast?"
"We played a game of bezique, and then he repeated his breviary while
I read a little book which he happened to have in his pocket, and which
was not by any means badly written."
"A religious book, uncle?"
"Yes, and no, or rather--no. It is the history of their missions in
Central Africa, and is rather a book of travels and adventures. What these
men have done is very good."
I began to feel that matters were going badly, so I got up. "Well,
good-bye, uncle," I said, "I see you are going to leave freemasonry for
religion; you are a renegade."
He was still rather confused, and stammered:
"Well, but religion is a sort of freemasonry."
"When is your Jesuit coming back?" I asked.
"I don't--I don't know exactly; to-morrow, perhaps; but it is not
certain."