Original Short Stories — Volume 06Maupassant, Guy de
General
Original Short Stories — Volume 06
Maupassant, Guy de
Short stories, French -- Translations into English
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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