the vicar of tours-第3章

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well　selected。　The　least　little　things　are　excellent。　In　fact；

Mademoiselle　Gamard　keeps　an　incessant　watch　over　my　wants。　I　can't

remember　having　rung　twice　for　anythingno　matter　whatin　ten　years。

That's　what　I　call　living！　I　never　have　to　look　for　a　single　thing；

not　even　my　slippers。　Always　a　good　fire；　always　a　good　dinner。　Once

the　bellows　annoyed　me；　the　nozzle　was　choked　up；　but　I　only　mentioned

it　once；　and　the　next　day　Mademoiselle　gave　me　a　very　pretty　pair；

also　those　nice　tongs　you　see　me　mend　the　fire　with。〃



For　all　answer　Birotteau　would　say；　〃Smelling　of　orris…root！〃　That

〃smelling　of　orris…root〃　always　affected　him。　The　canon's　remarks

revealed　ideal　joys　to　the　poor　vicar；　whose　bands　and　albs　were　the

plague　of　his　life；　for　he　was　totally　devoid　of　method　and　often

forgot　to　order　his　dinner。　Therefore；　if　he　saw　Mademoiselle　Gamard

at　Saint…Gatien　while　saying　mass　or　taking　round　the　plate；　he　never

failed　to　give　her　a　kindly　and　benevolent　look；such　a　look　as　Saint

Teresa　might　have　cast　to　heaven。



Though　the　comforts　which　all　creatures　desire；　and　for　which　he　had

so　often　longed；　thus　fell　to　his　share；　the　Abbe　Birotteau；　like　the

rest　of　the　world；　found　it　difficult；　even　for　a　priest；　to　live

without　something　to　hanker　for。　Consequently；　for　the　last　eighteen

months　he　had　replaced　his　two　satisfied　passions　by　an　ardent　longing

for　a　canonry。　The　title　of　Canon　had　become　to　him　very　much　what　a

peerage　is　to　a　plebeian　minister。　The　prospect　of　an　appointment；

hopes　of　which　had　just　been　held　out　to　him　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；

so　completely　turned　his　head　that　he　did　not　observe　until　he　reached

his　own　door　that　he　had　left　his　umbrella　behind　him。　Perhaps；　even

then；　if　the　rain　were　not　falling　in　torrents　he　might　not　have

missed　it；　so　absorbed　was　he　in　the　pleasure　of　going　over　and　over

in　his　mind　what　had　been　said　to　him　on　the　subject　of　his　promotion

by　the　company　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；an　old　lady　with　whom　he

spent　every　Wednesday　evening。



The　vicar　rang　loudly；　as　if　to　let　the　servant　know　she　was　not　to

keep　him　waiting。　Then　he　stood　close　to　the　door　to　avoid；　if　he

could；　getting　showered；　but　the　drip　from　the　roof　fell　precisely　on

the　toes　of　his　shoes；　and　the　wind　blew　gusts　of　rain　into　his　face

that　were　much　like　a　shower…bath。　Having　calculated　the　time　necesary

for　the　woman　to　leave　the　kitchen　and　pull　the　string　of　the　outer

door；　he　rang　again；　this　time　in　a　manner　that　resulted　in　a　very

significant　peal　of　the　bell。



〃They　can't　be　out；〃　he　said　to　himself；　not　hearing　any　movement　on

the　premises。



Again　he　rang；　producing　a　sound　that　echoed　sharply　through　the　house

and　was　taken　up　and　repeated　by　all　the　echoes　of　the　cathedral；　so

that　no　one　could　avoid　waking　up　at　the　remonstrating　racket。

Accordingly；　in　a　few　moments；　he　heard；　not　without　some　pleasure　in

his　wrath；　the　wooden　shoes　of　the　servant…woman　clacking　along　the

paved　path　which　led　to　the　outer　door。　But　even　then　the　discomforts

of　the　gouty　old　gentleman　were　not　so　quickly　over　as　he　hoped。

Instead　of　pulling　the　string；　Marianne　was　obliged　to　turn　the　lock

of　the　door　with　its　heavy　key；　and　pull　back　all　the　bolts。



〃Why　did　you　let　me　ring　three　times　in　such　weather？〃　said　the　vicar。



〃But；　monsieur；　don't　you　see　the　door　was　locked？　We　have　all　been　in

bed　ever　so　long；　it　struck　a　quarter　to　eleven　some　time　ago。

Mademoiselle　must　have　thought　you　were　in。〃



〃You　saw　me　go　out；　yourself。　Besides；　Mademoiselle　knows　very　well　I

always　go　to　Madame　de　Listomere's　on　Wednesday　evening。〃



〃I　only　did　as　Mademoiselle　told　me；　monsieur。〃



These　words　struck　the　vicar　a　blow；　which　he　felt　the　more　because

his　late　revery　had　made　him　completely　happy。　He　said　nothing　and

followed　Marianne　towards　the　kitchen　to　get　his　candlestick；　which　he

supposed　had　been　left　there　as　usual。　But　instead　of　entering　the

kitchen　Marianne　went　on　to　his　own　apartments；　and　there　the　vicar

beheld　his　candlestick　on　a　table　close　to　the　door　of　the　red　salon；

in　a　sort　of　antechamber　formed　by　the　landing　of　the　staircase；　which

the　late　canon　had　inclosed　with　a　glass　partition。　Mute　with

amazement；　he　entered　his　bedroom　hastily；　found　no　fire；　and　called

to　Marianne；　who　had　not　had　time　to　get　downstairs。



〃You　have　not　lighted　the　fire！〃　he　said。



〃Beg　pardon；　Monsieur　l'abbe；　I　did；〃　she　said；　〃it　must　have　gone

out。〃



Birotteau　looked　again　at　the　hearth；　and　felt　convinced　that　the　fire

had　been　out　since　morning。



〃I　must　dry　my　feet；〃　he　said。　〃Make　the　fire。〃



Marianne　obeyed　with　the　haste　of　a　person　who　wants　to　get　back　to

her　night's　rest。　While　looking　about　him　for　his　slippers；　which　were

not　in　the　middle　of　his　bedside　carpet　as　usual；　the　abbe　took　mental

notes　of　the　state　of　Marianne's　dress；　which　convinced　him　that　she

had　not　got　out　of　bed　to　open　the　door　as　she　said　she　had。　He　then

recollected　that　for　the　last　two　weeks　he　had　been　deprived　of

various　little　attentions　which　for　eighteen　months　had　made　life

sweet　to　him。　Now；　as　the　nature　of　narrow　minds　induces　them　to　study

trifles；　Birotteau　plunged　suddenly　into　deep　meditation　on　these　four

circumstances；　imperceptible　in　their　meaning　to　others；　but　to　him

indicative　of　four　catastrophes。　The　total　loss　of　his　happiness　was

evidently　foreshadowed　in　the　neglect　to　place　his　slipppers；　in

Marianne's　falsehood　about　the　fire；　in　the　unusual　removal　of　his

candlestick　to　the　table　of　the　antechamber；　and　in　the　evident

intention　to　keep　him　waiting　in　the　rain。



When　the　fire　was　burning　on　the　hearth；　and　the　lamp　was　lighted；　and

Marianne　had　departed　without　saying；　as　usual；　〃Does　Monsieur　want

anything　more？〃　the　Abbe　Birotteau　let　himself　fall　gently　into　the

wide　and　handsome　easy…chair　of　his　late　friend；　but　there　was

something　mournful　in　the　movement　with　which　he　dropped　upon　it。　The

good　soul　was　crushed　by　a　presentiment　of　coming　calamity。　His　eyes

roved　successively　to　the　handsome　tall　clock；　the　bureau；　curtains；

chairs；　carpets；　to　the　stately　bed；　the　basin　of　holy…water；　the

crucifix；　to　a　Virgin　by　Valentin；　a　Christ　by　Lebrun；in　short；　to

all　the　accessories　of　this　cherished　room；　while　his　face　expressed

the　anguish　of　the　tenderest　farewell　that　a　lover　ever　took　of　his

first　mistress；　or　an　old　man　of　his　lately　planted　trees。　The　vicar

had　just　perceived；　somewhat　late　it　is　true；　the　signs　of　a　dumb

persecution　instituted　against　him　for　the　last　three　months　by

Mademoiselle　Gamard；　whose　evil　intentions　would　doubtless　have　been

fathomed　much　sooner　by　a　more　intelligent　man。　Old　maids　have　a

special　talent　for　accentuating　the　words　and　actions　which　their

dislikes　suggest　to　them。　They　scratch　like　cats。　They　not　only　wound

but　they　take　pleasure　in　wounding；　and　in　making　their　victim　see

that　he　is　wounded。　A　man　of　the　world　would　never　have　allowed

himself　to　be　scratched　twice；　the　good　abbe；　on　the　contrary；　had

taken　several　blows　from　those　sharp　claws　before　he　could　be　brought

to　believe　in　any　evil　intention。



But　when　he　did　perceive　it；　he　set　to　work；　with　the　inquisitorial

sagacity　which　priests　acquire　by　directing　consciences　and　burrowing

into　the　nothings　of　the　confessional；　to　establish；　as　though　it　were

a　matter　of　religious　controversy；　the　following　proposition：

〃Admitting　that　Mademoiselle　Gamard　did　not　remember　it　was　Madame　de

Listomere's　evening；　and　that　Marianne　did　think　I　was　home；　and　did

really　forget　to　make　my　fire；　it　is　impossible；　inasmuch　as　I　myself

took　down　my　candlestick　this　morning；　that　Mademoiselle　Gamard；

seeing　it　in　her　salon；　could　have　supposed　I　had　gone　to　bed。　Ergo；

Mademoiselle　Gamard　intended　that　I　should　stand　out　in　the　rain；　and；

by　carrying　my　candlestick　upstairs；　she　meant　to　make　me　understand

it。　Wh