the vicar of tours-第12章
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rapidity of events which found him defenceless; by the ease with which
his friends were settling the most cherished matters of his solitary
life; that he remained silent and motionless as if moonstruck;
thinking of nothing; though listening and striving to understand the
meaning of the rapid sentences the assembled company addressed to him。
He took the paper Monsieur Caron had given him and read it; as if he
were giving his mind to the lawyer's document; but the act was merely
mechanical。 He signed the paper; by which he declared that he left
Mademoiselle Gamard's house of his own wish and will; and that he had
been fed and lodged while there according to the terms originally
agreed upon。 When the vicar had signed the document; Monsieur Caron
took it and asked where his client was to send the things left by the
abbe in her house and belonging to him。 Birotteau replied that they
could be sent to Madame de Listomere's;that lady making him a sign
that she would receive him; never doubting that he would soon be a
canon。 Monsieur de Bourbonne asked to see the paper; the deed of
relinquishment; which the abbe had just signed。 Monsieur Caron gave it
to him。
〃How is this?〃 he said to the vicar after reading it。 〃It appears that
written documents already exist between you and Mademoiselle Gamard。
Where are they? and what do they stipulate?〃
〃The deed is in my library;〃 replied Birotteau。
〃Do you know the tenor of it?〃 said Monsieur de Bourbonne to the
lawyer。
〃No; monsieur;〃 said Caron; stretching out his hand to regain the
fatal document。
〃Ha!〃 thought the old man; 〃you know; my good friend; what that deed
contains; but you are not paid to tell us;〃 and he returned the paper
to the lawyer。
〃Where can I put my things?〃 cried Birotteau; 〃my books; my beautiful
book…shelves; and pictures; my red furniture; and all my treasures?〃
The helpless despair of the poor man thus torn up as it were by the
roots was so artless; it showed so plainly the purity of his ways and
his ignorance of the things of life; that Madame de Listomere and
Mademoiselle de Salomon talked to him and consoled him in the tone
which mothers take when they promise a plaything to their children。
〃Don't fret about such trifles;〃 they said。 〃We will find you some
place less cold and dismal than Mademoiselle Gamard's gloomy house。 If
we can't find anything you like; one or other of us will take you to
live with us。 Come; let's play a game of backgammon。 To…morrow you can
go and see the Abbe Troubert and ask him to push your claims to the
canonry; and you'll see how cordially he will receive you。〃
Feeble folk are as easily reassured as they are frightened。 So the
poor abbe; dazzled at the prospect of living with Madame de Listomere;
forgot the destruction; now completed; of the happiness he had so long
desired; and so delightfully enjoyed。 But at night before going to
sleep; the distress of a man to whom the fuss of moving and the
breaking up of all his habits was like the end of the world; came upon
him; and he racked his brains to imagine how he could ever find such a
good place for his book…case as the gallery in the old maid's house。
Fancying he saw his books scattered about; his furniture defaced; his
regular life turned topsy…turvy; he asked himself for the thousandth
time why the first year spent in Mademoiselle Gamard's house had been
so sweet; the second so cruel。 His troubles were a pit in which his
reason floundered。 The canonry seemed to him small compensation for so
much misery; and he compared his life to a stocking in which a single
dropped stitch resulted in destroying the whole fabric。 Mademoiselle
Salomon remained to him。 But; alas; in losing his old illusions the
poor priest dared not trust in any later friendship。
In the 〃citta dolente〃 of spinsterhood we often meet; especially in
France; with women whose lives are a sacrifice nobly and daily offered
to noble sentiments。 Some remain proudly faithful to a heart which
death tore from them; martyrs of love; they learn the secrets of
womanhood only though their souls。 Others obey some family pride
(which in our days; and to our shame; decreases steadily); these
devote themselves to the welfare of a brother; or to orphan nephews;
they are mothers while remaining virgins。 Such old maids attain to the
highest heroism of their sex by consecrating all feminine feelings to
the help of sorrow。 They idealize womanhood by renouncing the rewards
of woman's destiny; accepting its pains。 They live surrounded by the
splendour of their devotion; and men respectfully bow the head before
their faded features。 Mademoiselle de Sombreuil was neither wife nor
maid; she was and ever will be a living poem。 Mademoiselle Salomon de
Villenoix belonged to the race of these heroic beings。 Her devotion
was religiously sublime; inasmuch as it won her no glory after being;
for years; a daily agony。 Beautiful and young; she loved and was
beloved; her lover lost his reason。 For five years she gave herself;
with love's devotion; to the mere mechanical well…being of that
unhappy man; whose madness she so penetrated that she never believed
him mad。 She was simple in manner; frank in speech; and her pallid
face was not lacking in strength and character; though its features
were regular。 She never spoke of the events of her life。 But at times
a sudden quiver passed over her as she listened to the story of some
sad or dreadful incident; thus betraying the emotions that great
sufferings had developed within her。 She had come to live at Tours
after losing the companion of her life; but she was not appreciated
there at her true value and was thought to be merely an amiable woman。
She did much good; and attached herself; by preference; to feeble
beings。 For that reason the poor vicar had naturally inspired her with
a deep interest。
Mademoiselle de Villenoix; who returned to Tours the next morning;
took Birotteau with her and set him down on the quay of the cathedral
leaving him to make his own way to the Cloister; where he was bent on
going; to save at least the canonry and to superintend the removal of
his furniture。 He rang; not without violent palpitations of the heart;
at the door of the house whither; for fourteen years; he had come
daily; and where he had lived blissfully; and from which he was now
exiled forever; after dreaming that he should die there in peace like
his friend Chapeloud。 Marianne was surprised at the vicar's visit。 He
told her that he had come to see the Abbe Troubert; and turned towards
the ground…floor apartment where the canon lived; but Marianne called
to him:
〃Not there; monsieur le vicaire; the Abbe Troubert is in your old
apartment。〃
These words gave the vicar a frightful shock。 He was forced to
comprehend both Troubert's character and the depths of the revenge so
slowly brought about when he found the canon settled in Chapeloud's
library; seated in Chapeloud's handsome armchair; sleeping; no doubt;
in Chapeloud's bed; and disinheriting at last the friend of Chapeloud;
the man who; for so many years; had confined him to Mademoiselle
Gamard's house; by preventing his advancement in the church; and
closing the best salons in Tours against him。 By what magic wand had
the present transformation taken place? Surely these things belonged
to Birotteau? And yet; observing the sardonic air with which Troubert
glanced at that bookcase; the poor abbe knew that the future vicar…
general felt certain of possessing the spoils of those he had so
bitterly hated;Chapeloud as an enemy; and Birotteau; in and through
whom Chapeloud still thwarted him。 Ideas rose in the heart of the poor
man at the sight; and plunged him into a sort of vision。 He stood
motionless; as though fascinated by Troubert's eyes which fixed
themselves upon him。
〃I do not suppose; monsieur;〃 said Birotteau at last; 〃that you intend
to deprive me of the things