Abbe Mouret's Transgression: Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Brother Archangias, aroused from his slumber, stood erect in the breach,
striking the stones with his stick and swearing abominably.

'May the devil break their legs for them! May he drag them to hell by
their feet, with their noses trailing in their abomination!'

But when he saw Albine driving away the priest, he stopped for a moment
in surprise. Then he struck the stones yet more vigorously, and burst
into a roar of laughter.

'Good-bye, you hussy! A pleasant journey to you! Go back to your mates
the wolves! A priest is no fit companion for such as you.'

Then, looking at Abbe Mouret, he growled:

'I knew you were in there. I saw that the stones had been
disturbed. . . . Listen to me, Monsieur le Cure. Your sin has made
me your superior, and God tells you, through my mouth, that hell has
no torments severe enough for a priest who lets himself succumb to
the lusts of the flesh. If He were to pardon you now, He would be too
indulgent, it would be contrary to His own justice.'

They slowly walked down the hill towards Les Artaud. The priest had not
opened his lips; but gradually he raised his head erect: he was no
longer trembling. As in the distance he caught sight of the Solitaire
looming blackly against the purplish sky, and the ruddy glow of the
tiles on the church, a faint smile came to his lips, while to his calm
eyes there rose an expression of perfect serenity.

Meantime the Brother was every now and then giving a vicious kick at the
stones that came in his way. Presently he turned to his companion:

'Is it all over this time?' he asked. 'When I was your age I was
possessed too. A demon was ever gnawing at me. But, after a time, he
grew weary of it, and took himself off. Now that he has gone I live
quietly enough. . . . Oh! I knew very well that you would go. For three
weeks past I have been keeping watch upon you. I used to look into the
garden through the breach in the wall. I should have liked to cut the
trees down. I have often hurled stones at them; it was delightful to
break the branches. Tell me, now, is it so very nice to be there?'

He made Abbe Mouret stop in the middle of the road, and glared at him
with a terrible expression of jealousy. The thought of the priest's life
in the Paradou tortured him. But the Abbe kept perfect silence, so
Archangias set off again, jeering as he went. Then, in a louder voice,
he said:

'You see, when a priest behaves as you have done, he scandalises every
other priest. I myself felt sullied by your conduct. However, you are
now behaving more sensibly. There is no need for you to make any
confession. I know what has happened well enough. Heaven has broken your
back for you, as it has done for so many others. So much the better! So
much the better!'

He clapped his hands triumphantly. But Abbe Mouret, immersed in deep
reverie, with a smile spreading over his whole face, did not even hear
him. When the Brother quitted him at the parsonage door, he went round
and entered the church. It was grey and gloomy, as on that terrible
rainy evening when temptation had racked him so violently. And it still
remained poverty-stricken and meditative, bare of all that gleaming gold
and sighing passion that had seemed to him to sweep in from the
countryside. It preserved solemn silence. But a breath of mercy seemed
to fill it.

Kneeling before the great Christ and bursting into tears, which he let
flow down his cheeks as though they were so many blessings, the priest
murmured:

'O God, it is not true that Thou art pitiless. I know it, I feel it:
Thou hast already pardoned me. I feel it in the outpouring of Thy grace,
which, for hours now, has been flowing through me in a sweet stream,
bringing me back, slowly but surely, perfect peace and spiritual health.
O God, it was at the very moment when I was about to forsake Thee that
Thou didst protect me most effectually. Thou didst hide Thyself from me,
the better to rescue me from evil. Thou didst allow my flesh to run its
course, that I might be convinced of its nothingness. And now, O God, I
see that Thou hast for ever marked me with Thy seal, that awful seal,
pregnant with blessings, which sets a man apart from other men, and
whose mark is so ineffaceable that, sooner or later, it makes itself
manifest even upon those who sin. Thou hast broken me with sin and
temptation. Thou hast ravaged me with Thy flames. Thou hast willed that
there should be nought left of me save ruins wherein Thou mightest
safely descend. I am an empty tabernacle wherein Thou may'st dwell.
Blessed art Thou, O God!'

He prostrated himself and continued stammering in the dust. The church
triumphed. It remained firm and unshaken over the priest's head, with
its altars and its confessional, its pulpit, its crosses, and its holy
images. The world had ceased to exist. Temptation was extinguished like
a fire that was henceforth unnecessary for the Abbe's purification. He
was entering into supernatural peace. And he raised this supreme cry:

'To the exclusion of life and its creatures and of everything that be in
it, I belong to Thee, O God; to Thee, Thee alone, through all eternity!'

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