“Make haste, reverend sir, 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, and fearing it was
going to be something serious, he had been seized with a sudden dread of
death, and wished to see the priest and talk to him; to have his advice
and comfort, to make his peace 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, reverend 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,
and was soon let in; and I saw the black cassock disappear within that
stronghold of Free Thought.
I hid under a neighboring gateway to wait results. Had he been well,
my uncle would have half-murdered the Jesuit, but I knew that he would
scarcely be able to move an arm, and I asked myself gleefully what sort
of a scene would take place between these antagonists, what disputes,
what arguments, what a hubbub, and what would be the issue of the
situation, which my uncle's indignation would render still more tragic?
I laughed till my sides ached, and said half aloud: “Oh, what a joke,
what a joke!”
Meanwhile it was getting very cold, and I noticed that the Jesuit stayed
a long time, and I thought: “They are having an argument, 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 broke.
I was very uneasy, and, not venturing to go into the house myself,
went to one of my friends who lived opposite. I woke him up, 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 the door of my uncle's
house; and 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 and 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, “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. I 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, a Freethinker, a Freemason? You did
not have him thrown out of doors?”
He seemed confused, and stammered:
“Listen a moment, it is so astonishing--so astonishing and providential!
He also spoke to me about my father; it seems 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 all
know a little of medicine.”
“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 uncalled for, 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 to
have his convictions respected.”
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 grand.”
I began to feel that matters were going badly, so I got up. “Well,
good-by, uncle,” I said, “I see you are going to give up 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.”