Death -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
In this respect, perhaps, however contrary to the truth his vehement
declarations might be, Brother Fulgence, in the first instance, made
them in all good faith, for he lived very much in another world,
far from mere reason. But he soon found himself caught beneath the
millstone of falsehood; it became necessary that he should lie
knowingly and deliberately, and he did so at last with a kind of devout
rage, for the very love of God. Was he not, himself, chaste? Had he
not always wrestled against temptation? That was so; and he therefore
made it his duty to guarantee the absolute chastity of his entire
Order; he answered for the Brothers who stumbled by the way, he denied
to laymen the right of judging them, for the laymen belonged merely to
the flock, they knew nought of the temple. If, then, Brother Gorgias
had sinned, he owed account of it to God only, not to man. As a member
of a religious Order he had ceased to be liable to human justice. In
this way, consumed by his craving to thrust himself forward, Brother
Fulgence went on and on, impelled by skilful and discreet hands which
piled all responsibilities upon his shoulders.
It was not difficult to divine that Father Philibin stood behind him
in the gloom--Father Philibin, who, in his turn, was the instrument of
Father Crabot. But how supple and how powerful a one, retaining his
personality even amidst his obedience! He willingly exaggerated the
characteristics of his peasant origin, affecting the heavy _bon-homie_
of some rough-hewed son of the soil; yet he was full of the shrewdest
craft, endowed with the patience needed for long enterprises, which he
conducted with wonderful dexterity. He was always striving to attain
some mysterious object, but he made no stir, he showed no personal
ambition; the only joy he coveted was that of seeing his work prosper.
Supposing him to be possessed of faith, it must have been a desire to
serve his superiors and the Church that impelled him to fight on like
an unknown unscrupulous soldier. As Prefect of the Studies at Valmarie
he there kept a watch over everything, busied himself with everything;
for, however massive his build, he was very active. Mingling with the
pupils of the college, playing with them, watching them, studying them,
diving to the very depths of their souls, ascertaining everything
he could about their relatives and their friends, he possessed the
master's all-seeing eye, the mind which stripped the brains and hearts
of others.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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