“If,” I said, “this resolve of Brother Nepomucene, as you call him, is
as fixed as you say; if the only one care he has in the world is for his
own salvation, will you explain to me how the attractions of temporal
wealth can possibly turn him from it? There seems to be a contradiction
in this which I fail to understand.”
The prior was somewhat embarrassed by the piercing glance I turned
on him, but he immediately started on one of those exhibitions of
simplicity which are the supreme resource of rogues:
“Mon Dieu! my dear son,” he exclaimed, “you do not know, then, the
immense consolation a pious soul can derive from the possession of
worldly wealth? Just as perishable riches must be despised when they
represent vain pleasures, even so must they be resolutely defended by
the upright man when they afford him the means of doing good. I will
not hide from you that if I were the holy Trappist I would not yield my
rights to any one; I would found a religious society for the propagation
of the faith and the distribution of alms with the wealth which, in the
hands of a brilliant young nobleman like yourself, is only squandered on
horses and dogs. The Church teaches us that by great sacrifices and
rich offerings we may cleanse our souls of the blackest sins. Brother
Nepomucene, a prey to holy fear, believes that a public expiation is
necessary for his salvation. Like a devout martyr, he wishes to satisfy
the implacable justice of men with blood. But how much sweeter for you
(and safer, at the same time) to see him raise some holy altar to the
glory of God, and hide in the blessed peace of the cloister the baleful
lustre of the name he has already abjured! He is so much swayed by the
spirit of his order, he has conceived such a love for self-denial, for
humility and poverty, that it will need all my efforts and much help
from on high to make him agree to this change of expiations.”
“It is you, then, prior, who from sheer goodness of heart are
undertaking to alter this fatal resolution? I admire your zeal, and I
thank you for it; but I do not think there will be any need of all these
negotiations. M. Jean de Mauprat claims his share of the inheritance;
nothing can be more just. Even should the law refuse all civil rights
to a man who owed his safety only to flight (a point which I will pass
over), my relative may rest assured that there would never be the least
dispute between us on this ground, if I were the absolute possessor
of any fortune whatever. But you are doubtless aware that I owe the
enjoyment of this fortune only to the kindness of my great-uncle, the
Chevalier Hubert de Mauprat; that he had enough to do to pay the debts
of the family, which amounted to more than the total value of the
estate; that I can alienate nothing without his permission, and that,
in reality, I am merely the depositary of a fortune which I have not yet
accepted.”
The prior stared at me in astonishment, as if dazed by an unexpected
blow. Then he smiled with a crafty expression, and said:
“Very good! It appears that I have been mistaken, and that I must apply
to M. Hubert de Mauprat. I will do so; for I make no doubt that he will
be very grateful to me for saving his family from a scandal which may
have very good results for one of his relatives in the next world, but
which, for a certainty, will have very bad ones for another relation in
the present world.”
“I understand, sir,” I replied. “This is a threat. I will answer in the
same strain: If M. Jean de Mauprat ventures to importune my uncle and
cousin, it is with me that he will have to deal; and it will not be
before the courts that I shall summon him to answer for certain outrages
which I have by no means forgotten. Tell him that I shall grant no
pardon to the Trappist penitent unless he remains faithful to the role
he has adopted. If M. Jean de Mauprat is without resources, and he asks
my help, I may, out of the income I receive, furnish him with the means
of living humbly and decently, according to the spirit of the vows he
has taken; but if ecclesiastical ambition has taken possession of his
mind, and he thinks, by stupid, childish threats, to intimidate my
uncle to such an extent that he will be able to extort from him the
wherewithal to satisfy his new tastes, let him undeceive himself--tell
him so from me. The old man’s peace of mind and his daughter’s future
have only myself as guardian, and I shall manage to guard them, though
it be at the risk of my life and my honour.”
“And yet honour and life are of some importance at your age,” replied
the abbe, visibly irritated, but feigning a suaver manner than ever.
“Who knows into what folly religious fervour may lead the Trappist?
For, between ourselves be it said, my child--you see, I am a man of
moderation--I knew the world in my youth, and I do not approve of these
violent resolves, which are more often dictated by pride than piety.
For instance, I have consented to temper the austerity of our rules; my
friars look well-fed, and they wear shirts. Rest assured, my good sir, I
am far from approving of your uncle’s design, and I shall do all that
is possible to hinder it. Yet, if he still persists, how will my efforts
profit you? He has obtained his superior’s permission, and may, after
all, yield to his fatal inspiration. You may be seriously compromised by
an affair of this kind; for, although reports say that you are a worthy
young gentleman, though you have abjured the errors of the past, and
though, perhaps, your soul has always hated iniquity, you have certainly
been involved in many misdeeds which human laws condemn and punish. Who
can tell into what involuntary revelations Brother Nepomucene may
find himself drawn if he sets in motion the machinery of criminal
proceedings? Can he set it in motion against himself without at the same
time setting it in motion against you? Believe me, I wish for peace--I
am a kindly man.”
“Yes, a very kindly man, father,” I answered, in a tone of irony. “I see
that perfectly. But do not let this matter cause you needless anxiety;
for there is one very clear argument which must reassure both of us. If
a veritable religious impulse urges Brother John the Trappist to make a
public reparation, it will be easy to make him understand that he ought
to hesitate before he drags another than himself into the abyss; the
spirit of Christ forbids him to do this. But, if the truth is, as I
presume, that M. Jean de Mauprat has not the least wish to hand himself
over to justice, his threats are but little calculated to terrify me,
and I shall take steps to prevent them from making more stir than is
desirable.”
“So that is the only answer I am to give him?” asked the prior, darting
a vindictive glance at me.
“Yes, sir,” I replied; “unless he would prefer to come here and receive
the answer from my own mouth. I came with a determination to conquer
the disgust which his presence arouses in me; and I am astonished that,
after expressing so much eagerness to see me, he should remain in the
background when I arrive.”
“Sir,” answered the prior, with ridiculous majesty, “my duty is to see
that the peace of our Lord reigns in this holy place. I must,
therefore, set myself against any interview which might lead to violent
explanations . . .”
“You are much too easily frightened, sir,” I replied. “There is nothing
to arouse passion in this matter. However, as it was not I who called
for these explanations, and as I came here out of pure compliance, I
most willingly refrain from pushing them further, and I thank you for
having been good enough to act as intermediary.”
With that, I made a profound bow and retired.