The Three Cities Trilogy: Lourdes, CompleteZola, Émile
General
The Three Cities Trilogy: Lourdes, Complete
Zola, Émile
Catholics -- Fiction; Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages -- Fiction; Clergy -- Fiction; Lourdes (France) -- Fiction
Henceforth he was at the seminary. The classrooms, the recreation ground
with its trees, rose up clearly before him. But all at once he only
beheld, as in a mirror, the youthful face which had then been his, and he
contemplated it and scrutinised it, as though it had been the face of a
stranger. Tall and slender, he had an elongated visage, with an unusually
developed forehead, lofty and straight like a tower; whilst his jaws
tapered, ending in a small refined chin. He seemed, in fact, to be all
brains; his mouth, rather large, alone retained an expression of
tenderness. Indeed, when his usually serious face relaxed, his mouth and
eyes acquired an exceedingly soft expression, betokening an unsatisfied,
hungry desire to love, devote oneself, and live. But immediately
afterwards, the look of intellectual passion would come back again, that
intellectuality which had ever consumed him with an anxiety to understand
and know. And it was with surprise that he now recalled those years of
seminary life. How was it that he had so long been able to accept the
rude discipline of blind faith, of obedient belief in everything without
the slightest examination? It had been required of him that he should
absolutely surrender his reasoning faculties, and he had striven to do
so, had succeeded indeed in stifling his torturing need of truth.
Doubtless he had been softened, weakened by his mother’s tears, had been
possessed by the sole desire to afford her the great happiness she dreamt
of. Yet now he remembered certain quiverings of revolt; he found in the
depths of his mind the memory of nights which he had spent in weeping
without knowing why, nights peopled with vague images, nights through
which galloped the free, virile life of the world, when Marie’s face
incessantly returned to him, such as he had seen it one morning, dazzling
and bathed in tears, while she embraced him with her whole soul. And that
alone now remained; his years of religious study with their monotonous
lessons, their ever similar exercises and ceremonies, had flown away into
the same haze, into a vague half-light, full of mortal silence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account