Death -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
Delbos had listened attentively. 'At all events,' said he, 'I cannot
defend Simon without carrying the battle into the enemy's camp. Bear in
mind, too, that the only help from which you may derive some advantage
will perhaps come to you from the Church itself. The old quarrel
between our Bishop, Monseigneur Bergerot, and Father Crabot, the Rector
of Valmarie, is taking a very serious turn, by reason, precisely,
of the Simon affair. My own belief is that the crafty mind and the
invisible hand, which seem to you to be directing the whole business,
are those of Father Crabot. I certainly do not accuse him of the crime,
but it is he who is protecting the culprit. And if we attack him we
shall strike the head of the band, besides which the Bishop will be on
our side--not openly, of course; but is not such assistance something,
even if it be secret?'
A smile of doubt appeared on Marc's face, as if he felt that one never
had the Church on one's side when human truth and justice were at
stake. However, he likewise regarded Father Crabot as the enemy, and
to trace the developments of the case back to him and to endeavour to
destroy him was the right course. So they spoke of Father Crabot and
of his past life, which a somewhat mysterious legend poetised. He was
thought to be the illegitimate grandson of a famous general, a prince
of the First Empire, which relationship, in the estimation of patriotic
souls, endued his pious ministry with some of the resounding glory of
battle and conquest. But the romantic circumstances in which he had
taken orders touched people more deeply. At thirty years of age he had
been a rich, handsome, gallant cavalier, on the point of marrying a
beautiful widow, a Duchess with a great name and a great fortune; but
brutal death had struck her down in her flower. That blow, as Father
Crabot often said, had shown him the bitter nothingness of human joys,
and cast him into the arms of religion. He had gained thereby the
tremulous tenderness of all women's hearts; they were well pleased,
indeed, that he should have sought a refuge in heaven, for love of the
one woman whom he had adored.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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