'Poor Compan! it is all over with him! he is dying! I am going upstairs, I must see Faujas at once.'
When Marthe showed him his fellow priest, who, according to his wont4, was walking to and fro at the bottom of the garden, reading his breviary, he ran up to him, tottering5 on his short legs. He tried to speak and tell the other the sad news, but his grief choked him, and he could only throw his arms round Abbé Faujas's neck, while sobbing6 bitterly.
'Hullo! what's the matter with the two parsons?' cried Mouret, who had hastily rushed out of the dining-room.
'The Curé of Saint-Saturnin's is dying,' Marthe replied, showing much distress.
[Pg 121]
Mouret assumed an expression of surprise, and, as he went back into the house, he murmured:
'Pooh! that worthy7 Bourrette will manage to console himself to-morrow when he is appointed Curé in the other's place. He counts on getting the post; he told me so.'
Abbé Faujas disengaged himself from the old priest's embrace, quietly closed his breviary, and listened to the sad news with a grave face.
'Compan wants to see you,' said Abbé Bourrette in a broken voice; 'he will not last the morning out. Oh! he has been a dear friend to me! We studied together. He is anxious to say good-bye to you. He has been telling me all through the night that you were the only man of courage in the diocese. For more than a year now he has been getting weaker and weaker, and not a single Plassans priest has dared to go and grasp his hand; while you, a stranger, who scarcely knew him, you have spent an afternoon with him every week. The tears came into his eyes just now as he was speaking of you; you must lose no time, my friend.'
Abbé Faujas went up to his room for a moment, while Abbé Bourrette paced impatiently and hopelessly about the passage; and then at last they set off together. The old priest wiped his brow and swayed about on the road as he talked in disconnected fashion:
'He would have died like a dog without a single prayer being said for him if his sister had not come and told me about him at eleven o'clock last night. She did quite right, the dear lady, though he did not want to compromise any of us, and even would have foregone the last sacraments. Yes, my friend, he was dying all alone, abandoned and deserted8, he who had so high a mind, and who has only lived to do good!'
Then Bourrette became silent; but after a few moments he resumed again in a different voice:
'Do you think that Fenil will ever forgive me for this? Never, I expect! When Compan saw me bringing the viaticum, he was unwilling9 to let me anoint him and told me to go away. Well, well! it's all over with me now, and I shall never be Curé! But I am glad that I did it, and that I haven't let Compan die like a dog. He has been at war with Fenil for thirty years, you know. When he took to his bed he said to me, "Ah! it's Fenil who is going to carry the day! Now that I am stricken down he will get the better of[Pg 122] me!" So think of it! That poor Compan, whom I have seen so high-spirited and energetic at Saint-Saturnin's! Little Eusèbe, the choir-boy, whom I took to ring the viaticum bell, was quite embarrassed when he found where we were going. He kept looking behind him at each tinkle10, as if he was afraid that Fenil would hear it.'
Abbé Faujas, who was stepping along quickly with bent11 head and a preoccupied12 air, kept perfectly13 silent, and did not even seem to hear what his companion was saying.
'Has the Bishop14 been informed?' he suddenly asked.
But Abbé Bourrette in his turn now appeared to be buried in thought and made no reply; however, just as they reached Abbé Compan's door he said to his companion:
'Tell him that we met Fenil and that he bowed to us. It will please him, for he will then think that I shall be appointed Curé.'
They went up the stairs in silence. The Curé's sister came to the landing, and on seeing them burst into tears. Then she stammered between her sobs15:
'It is all over! He has just passed away in my arms. I was quite alone with him. As he was dying, he looked round him and murmured, "I must have the plague since they have all deserted me." Ah! gentlemen he died with his eyes full of tears.'
They went into the little room where Abbé Compan, with his head resting on his pillow, seemed to be asleep. His eyes had remained open, and tears yet trickled16 down his white sad face. Then Abbé Bourrette fell upon his knees, sobbing and praying, with his face pressed to the counterpane. Abbé Faujas at first remained standing17, gazing at the dead man; and after having knelt for a moment, he quietly went away. Abbé Bourrette was so absorbed in his grief that he did not even hear his colleague close the door.
Abbé Faujas went straight to the Bishop's. In Monseigneur Rousselot's ante-chamber he met Abbé Surin, carrying a bundle of papers.
'Do you want to speak to his lordship?' asked the secretary, with his never-failing smile. 'You have come at an unfortunate time. His lordship is so busy that he has given orders that no one is to be admitted.'
'But I want to see him on a very urgent matter,' quietly said Abbé Faujas. 'You can at any rate let him know that I am here; and I will wait, if it is necessary.'
[Pg 123]
'I am afraid that it would be useless for you to wait. His lordship has several people with him. It would be better if you came again to-morrow.'
But the Abbé took a chair, and just as he was doing so the Bishop opened the door of his study. He appeared much vexed18 on seeing his visitor, whom at first he pretended not to recognise.
'My son,' he said to Surin, 'when you have arranged those papers, come to me immediately; there is a letter I want to dictate20 to you.'
Then turning to the priest, who remained respectfully standing, he said:
'Ah! is it you, Monsieur Faujas? I am very glad to see you. Perhaps you want to say something to me? Come into my study; you are never in the way.'
Monseigneur Rousselot's study was a very large and rather gloomy room, in which a great wood fire was kept burning in the summer as well as the winter. The heavy carpet and curtains kept out all the air, and the room was like a warm bath. The Bishop, like some dowager shutting herself up from the world, detesting21 all noise and excitement, lived a chilly22 life there in his armchair, committing to Abbé Fenil the care of his diocese. He delighted in the classics, and it was said that he was secretly making a translation of Horace. He was equally fond of the little verses of the Anthology, and broad quotations23 occasionally escaped from his lips, quotations which he enjoyed with the na?veté of a learned man who cares nothing for the modesty24 of the vulgar.
'There is no one here, you see,' said he, sitting down before the fire; 'but I don't feel very well to-day, and I gave orders that nobody was to be admitted. Now you can tell me what you have to say; I am quite at your service.'
His general expression of amiability25 was tinged26 with a kind of vague uneasiness, a sort of resigned submission27. When Abbé Faujas had informed him of the death of Abbé Compan, he rose from his chair, apparently28 both distressed29 and alarmed.
'What!' he cried, 'my good Compan dead! and I was not able to bid him farewell! No one gave me any warning! Ah, my friend, you were right when you gave me to understand that I was no longer master here. They abuse my kindness.'
'Your lordship knows,' said Abbé Faujas, 'how devoted30 I am to you. I am only waiting for a sign from you.'
[Pg 124]
The Bishop shook his head as he murmured:
'Yes, yes; I remember the offer you made to me. You have an excellent heart; but what an uproar31 there would be, if I were to break with Abbé Fenil! I should have my ears deafened32 for a whole week! And yet if I could feel quite sure that you could really rid me of him, if I was not afraid that at a week's end he would come back and crush your neck under his heel——'
Abbé Faujas could not repress a smile. Tears were welling from the Bishop's eyes.
'Yes, I am afraid, I am afraid,' the prelate resumed, as he again sank down into his chair. 'I don't feel equal to it yet. It is that miserable33 man who has killed Compan and has kept his death agony a secret from me so that I might not go and close his eyes. He is capable of the most terrible things. But, you see, I like to live in peace. Fenil is very energetic and he renders me great services in the diocese. When I am no longer here, matters will perhaps be better ordered.'
He grew calmer again and his smile returned.
'Besides, everything is going on satisfactorily at present, and I don't see any immediate19 difficulty. We can wait.'
Abbé Faujas sat down, and calmly resumed:
'No doubt: but still you will have to appoint a Curé for Saint-Saturnin's in succession to the Abbé Compan.'
Monseigneur Rousselot lifted his hands to his temples with an expression of hopelessness.
'Indeed, you are right!' he ejaculated. 'I had forgotten that. Poor Compan doesn't know in what a hole he has put me, by dying so suddenly without my having had any warning. I promised you that place, didn't I?'
The Abbé bowed.
'Well, my friend, you will save me by letting me take back my word. You know how Fenil detests34 you. The success of the Home of the Virgin35 has made him quite furious, and he swears that he will prevent you from making the conquest of Plassans. I am talking to you quite openly, you see. Recently, when reference was made to the appointment of a Curé for Saint-Saturnin's, I let your name fall. But Fenil flew into a frightful36 rage and I was obliged to promise that I would give the place to a friend of his, Abbé Chardon, whom you know, and who is really a very worthy man. Now, my friend, do this much for me, and give up that idea. I will make you whatever recompense you like to name.'
[Pg 125]
The priest's face wore a grave expression. After a short interval37 of silence during which he seemed to be taking counsel of himself, he spoke38:
'You know very well, my lord,' he said, 'that I am quite without personal ambition. I should much prefer to lead a life of privacy, and it would be a great relief to me to give up this appointment. But I am not my own master, I feel bound to satisfy those patrons of mine who take an interest in me. I trust that your lordship will reflect very seriously before taking a step which you would probably regret afterwards.'
Although Abbé Faujas spoke very humbly39, the Bishop was not unconscious of the menace which his words veiled. He rose from his chair and took a few steps about the room, a prey40 to the painful perplexity.
'Well, well,' he said, lifting his hands, 'here's trouble and no mistake, for a long time. I should much have preferred to avoid all these explanations, but, since you insist, I must speak frankly41. Well, my dear sir, Abbé Fenil brings many charges against you. As I think I told you before, he must have written to Besan?on and learnt all the vexatious stories you know of. You have certainly explained those matters to me, and I am quite aware of your merits and of your life of penitence42 and solitude43; but what can I do? Fenil has weapons against you and he uses them ruthlessly. I often don't know what to say in your defence. When the Minister requested me to receive you into my diocese, I did not conceal44 from him that your position would be a difficult one; but he continued to press me and said that that was your affair, and so in the end I consented. But you must not come to-day and ask me to do what is impossible.'
Abbé Faujas had not lowered his head during the Bishop's remarks. He now raised it still higher as he looked the prelate straight in the face and said in his sharp voice:
'You have given me your promise, my lord.'
'Certainly, certainly,' the Bishop replied. 'That poor Compan was getting weaker every day and you came and confided45 certain matters to me, and I then made the promise to you. I don't deny it. Listen to me, I will tell you everything, so that you may not accuse me of wheeling round like a weathercock. You asserted that the Minister was extremely desirous for you to be appointed Curé of Saint-Saturnin's. Well, I wrote for information on the subject, and a friend of[Pg 126] mine went to the Ministry46 in Paris. They almost laughed in his face there, and they told him that they didn't even know you. The Minister absolutely denies that he is your supporter, do you hear? If you wish it, I will read you a letter in which he makes some very stern remarks about you.'
He stretched his arm towards a drawer, but Abbé Faujas rose to his feet without taking his eyes off him, and smiled with mingled47 irony48 and pity.
'Ah, my lord! my lord!' said he.
Then, after a moment's silence, as though he were unwilling to enter into further explanations, he said:
'I give your lordship back your promise; but believe that in all this I was working more for your own advantage than for mine. By-and-by, when it will be too late, you will call my warnings to mind.'
He stepped towards the door, but the Bishop laid his hand upon him and brought him back, saying with an expression of uneasiness:
'What do you mean? Explain yourself, my dear Monsieur Faujas. I know very well that I have not been in favour at Paris since the election of the Marquis de Lagrifoul. But people know me very little if they suppose that I had any hand in the matter. I don't go out of my study twice a month. Do you imagine that they accuse me of having brought about the marquis's return?'
'Yes, I am afraid so,' the priest curtly49 replied.
'But it is quite absurd! I have never interfered50 in politics; I live amongst my beloved books. It was Fenil who did it all. I told him a score of times that he would end by compromising me in Paris.'
He checked himself and blushed slightly at having allowed these last words to escape him. Abbé Faujas sat down again and said in a deep voice:
'My lord, by those words you have condemned51 your vicar-general. I have never said otherwise than you have just said. Do not continue to make common cause with him or he will lead you into serious trouble. I have friends in Paris, whatever you may believe. I know that the Marquis de Lagrifoul's election has strongly predisposed the Government against you. Rightly or wrongly, they believe that you are the sole cause of the opposition52 movement which has manifested itself in Plassans, where the Minister, for special reasons, is most anxious to have a majority. If the Legitimist candidate[Pg 127] should again succeed at the next election, it would be very awkward, and I should be considerably53 alarmed for your comfort.'
'But this is abominable54!' cried the unhappy Bishop, rocking himself in his chair; 'I can't prevent the Legitimist candidate from being returned! I haven't got the least influence, and I never mix myself up in these matters at all. Really, there are times when I feel that I should like to shut myself up in a monastery55. I could take my books with me, and lead a quiet, peaceful life there. It is Fenil who ought to be Bishop instead of me. If I were to listen to Fenil, I should get on the very worst terms with the Government. I should hearken only to Rome, and tell Paris to mind its own business. But that is not my nature, and I want to die in peace. The Minister, then, you say, is enraged56 with me?'
The priest made no reply. Two creases57 which appeared at the corners of his mouth gave his face an expression of silent scorn.
'Really,' continued the Bishop, 'if I thought it would please him if I were to appoint you Curé of Saint-Saturnin's, I would try to manage it. But I can assure you that you are mistaken. You are but little in the odour of sanctity.'
Abbé Faujas made a hasty movement of his hands, as he broke out impatiently:
'Have you forgotten that calumnies58 are circulated about me, and that I came to Plassans in a threadbare cassock? When they send a compromised man to a post of danger, they deny all knowledge of him till the day of triumph. Help me to succeed, my lord, and then you will see that I have friends in Paris.'
Then, as the Bishop, surprised to find in a priest such a bold adventurer, continued to gaze at him in silence, Faujas lapsed59 into a less assertive60 manner and continued:
'These, however, are suppositions, and what I mean is, that I have much to be pardoned. My friends are waiting to thank you till my position is completely established.'
Monseigneur Rousselot kept silence for a moment longer. He was a man of sharp understanding, and he had gained a knowledge of human failings from books. He was conscious of his own yielding character, and he was even a little ashamed of it; but he consoled himself for it by judging men for what they were worth. In the life of a learned epicurean, which he led, there were times when he felt supreme61 disdain[Pg 128] for the ambitious men about him, who fought amongst themselves for a few stray shreds62 of his power.
'Well,' he said, with a smile, 'you are a pertinacious63 man, my dear Monsieur Faujas, and since I have made you a promise I will keep it. Six months ago, I confess, I should have been afraid of stirring up all Plassans against me, but you have succeeded in making yourself liked, and the ladies of the town often speak to me about you in very eulogistic64 terms. In appointing you Curé of Saint-Saturnin's, I am only paying the debt which we owe you for the Home of the Virgin.'
The Bishop had recovered his usual pleasant amiability and charming manner. Just at this moment Abbé Surin put his handsome head through the doorway65.
'No, my child,' said the Bishop to him, 'I shall not dictate that letter to you. I have no further need of you, and you can go.'
'Abbé Fenil is here,' muttered the young priest.
'Oh, very well, let him wait!'
Monseigneur Rousselot winced66 slightly; but he spoke to his secretary with an almost ludicrous expression of decision, and looked at Abbé Faujas with a glance of intelligence.
'See! go out this way,' he said to him, as he opened a door that was hidden behind a curtain.
He kept the priest standing on the threshold for a moment, and continued to look at him with a smile on his face.
'Fenil will be furious,' said he; 'but you will promise to defend me against him if he is too hard upon me! I am making him your enemy, I warn you of that. I am counting upon you, too, to prevent the re-election of the Marquis de Lagrifoul. Ah! it is upon you that I am leaning now, my dear Monsieur Faujas.'
He waved his white hand to the Abbé, and then returned with an appearance of perfect unconcern to the warmth of his study. The priest had remained bowing, feeling surprised at the quite feminine ease with which the Bishop changed his master and yielded to the stronger side. And only now did he begin to feel that Monseigneur Rousselot had been secretly laughing at him, even as he laughed at Abbé Fenil in that downy armchair of his where he read his Horace.
About ten o'clock on the following Thursday, just when the fashionable folks of Plassans were treading on each other's toes in the Rougons' green drawing-room, Abbé Faujas[Pg 129] appeared at the door. He looked tall and majestic67, there was a bright colour on his cheeks, and he wore a delicate cassock that glistened68 like satin. His face was still grave, though there was a slight smile upon it, just the pleasant turn of the lips that was necessary to light up his stern countenance69 with a ray of cheerfulness.
'Ah! here is the dear Curé!' Madame de Condamin gaily70 exclaimed.
The mistress of the house eagerly hastened up to him; she grasped one of his hands within both her own, and drew him into the middle of the room, with wheedling71 glances and a gentle swaying of her head.
'This is a surprise! a very pleasant surprise!' she cried. 'It's an age since we have seen you! Is it only when good fortune visits you that you can remember your friends?'
Abbé Faujas bowed with easy composure. All around him there was a flattering ovation72, a buzzing of enthusiastic women. Madame Delangre and Madame Rastoil did not wait till he came up to them, but hastened to congratulate him upon his appointment, which had been officially announced that morning. The mayor, the justice of the peace, and even Monsieur de Bourdeu, all stepped up to him and shook his hand heartily73.
'Ah, he's a fine fellow and will go a long way!' Monsieur de Condamin murmured into Doctor Porquier's ear. 'I scented74 him from the first day I saw him. That grimacing75 old Madame Rougon and he tell no end of lies. I have seen him slipping in here at dusk half a score of times. They must be mixed up in some queer things together.'
Doctor Porquier was terribly afraid of being compromised by Monsieur de Condamin, so he hurried away from him, and came like the others to grasp Abbé Faujas's hand, although he had never previously76 spoken to him.
The priest's triumphal entry was the great event of the evening. He had now seated himself and was hemmed77 in by a triple circle of petticoats. He talked with charming good nature on all sorts of subjects, but avoided replying to any hints or allusions78. When Félicité directly questioned him, he merely said that he should not occupy the parsonage, as he preferred remaining in the lodgings79 where he had found himself so comfortable for nearly three years. Marthe was present among the other ladies, and was, as usual, extremely reserved. She had only just smiled at the Abbé, watching him from a[Pg 130] distance, and looking the while a little pale and rather weary and uneasy. When he signified his intention of not quitting the Rue80 Balande, she blushed and rose to go into the small drawing-room as if she felt incommoded by the heat. Madame Paloque, beside whom Monsieur de Condamin had seated himself, said to him quite loud enough to be heard:
'It's very decorous, isn't it? She certainly might refrain from making assignations with him here, since they have the whole day to themselves!'
Only Monsieur de Condamin laughed; everyone else received the sally very coldly. Then Madame Paloque, recognising that she had made a mistake, tried to turn the matter off as a joke. Meantime in the corners of the room the guests were discussing Abbé Fenil. Great curiosity was manifested as to whether he would put in an appearance. Monsieur de Bourdeu, who was one of his friends, said with an air of authority that he was indisposed—a statement which was received by the company with discreet81 smiles. Everyone was quite aware of the revolution that had taken place at the Bishop's. Abbé Surin gave the ladies some very interesting details of the terrible scene that had taken place between his lordship and the grand-vicar. The latter, on getting the worst of the struggle, had caused it to be reported that he was confined to his room by an attack of gout. But the fight was not over, and Abbé Surin hinted that a good deal more would happen yet, a remark which was whispered about the room with many little exclamations82, shakings of heads and expressions of surprise and doubt. For the moment, at any rate, Abbé Faujas was carrying everything before him and so the fair devotees sunned themselves pleasantly in the rays of the rising luminary83.
About the middle of the evening Abbé Bourrette arrived. Conversation ceased and people looked at him with curiosity. They all knew that he had expected to be appointed Curé of Saint-Saturnin's himself. He had taken over the Abbé Compan's duties during the latter's long illness, and he had a lien84 upon the appointment. He lingered for a moment by the door, a little out of breath and with blinking eyes, without being aware of the interest which his appearance excited. Then, catching85 sight of Abbé Faujas, he eagerly hastened up to him, and seizing both his hands with a show of much pleasure exclaimed:
[Pg 131]
'Ah! my dear friend, let me congratulate you! I have just come from your rooms, where your mother told me that you were here. I am delighted to see you.'
Abbé Faujas had risen from his seat, and notwithstanding his great self-control, he seemed annoyed, taken by surprise, as it were, by this unexpected display of affection.
'Yes,' he murmured, 'I felt bound to accept his lordship's offer in spite of my lack of merit. I refused it, indeed, at first, mentioning the names of several more deserving priests than myself. I mentioned your own name.'
Abbé Bourrette blinked, and taking Abbé Faujas aside he said to him in low tones:
'His lordship has told me all about it. Fenil, it seems, would not hear of me. He would have set the whole diocese in a blaze if I had been appointed. Those were his very words. My crime is having closed poor Compan's eyes. He demanded, as you know, the appointment of Abbé Chardon, a pious86 man, no doubt, but not of sufficient reputation. Fenil counted on reigning87 at Saint-Saturnin's in his name. It was then that his lordship determined88 to give you the place and checkmate him. I am quite avenged89, and I am delighted, my dear friend. Did you know the full story?'
'No, not in all its details.'
'Well, it is all just as I have told you, I can assure you. I have the facts from his lordship's own lips. Between ourselves, he has hinted to me of a very sufficient recompense. The deputy vicar-general, Abbé Vial, has for a long time been desirous of settling in Rome, and his place will be vacant, you understand. But don't say anything about this. I wouldn't take a big sum of money for my day's work.'
He continued pressing both Abbé Faujas's hands, while his broad face beamed with satisfaction. The ladies around them were smiling and looking at them in surprise. But the worthy man's joy was so frank and unreserved that it communicated itself to all in the green drawing-room, where the ovation in the new Curé's honour took a more familiar and affectionate turn. The ladies grouped themselves together and spoke of the cathedral organ which wanted repairing, and Madame de Condamin promised a magnificent altar for the procession on the approaching festival of Corpus Christi.
Abbé Bourrette was sharing in the general triumph when Madame Paloque, craning out her hideous90 face, touched him on the shoulder and murmured in his ear:
[Pg 132]
'Your reverence91 won't, I suppose, hear confessions92 to-morrow in Saint-Michael's chapel93?'
The priest, while taking Abbé Compan's duty, had occupied the confessional in Saint-Michael's chapel, which was the largest and most convenient in the church and was specially94 reserved for the Curé. He did not at first understand the force of Madame Paloque's remark, and he looked at her, again blinking his eyes.
'I ask you,' she continued, 'if you will resume your old confessional in the chapel of the Holy Angels, to-morrow.'
He turned rather pale and remained silent for a moment longer. Then he bent his gaze to the floor, and a slight shiver coursed down his neck, as though he had received a blow from behind. And, seeing that Madame Paloque was still there staring at him, he stammered out:
'Certainly; I shall go back to my old confessional. Come to the chapel of the Holy Angels, the last one on the left, on the same side as the cloisters95. It is very damp, so wrap yourself up well, dear madame, wrap yourself up well.'
Tears rose to his eyes. He was filled with regretful longing96 for that handsome confessional in the chapel of Saint-Michael, into which the warm sun streamed in the afternoon just at the time when he heard confessions. Until now he had felt no sorrow at relinquishing97 the cathedral to Abbé Faujas; but this little matter, this removal from one chapel to another, affected98 him very painfully; and it seemed to him that he had missed the goal of his life. Madame Paloque told him in her loud voice that he appeared to have grown melancholy99 all at once, but he protested against this assertion and tried to smile and look cheerful again. However he left the drawing-room early in the evening.
Abbé Faujas was one of the last to go. Rougon came up to him to offer his congratulations and they remained talking earnestly together on a couch. They spoke of the necessity of religious feeling in a wisely ordered state. Each lady, on retiring from the room, made a low bow as she passed in front of them.
'You know, Monsieur le Curé,' said Félicité graciously, 'that you are my daughter's cavalier.'
The priest rose from his seat. Marthe was waiting for him at the door. When they got out into the street, they seemed as if blinded by the darkness, and crossed the Place of the Sub-Prefecture without exchanging a word; but in the[Pg 133] Rue Balande, as they stood in front of the house, Marthe touched the priest's arm at the moment when he was about to insert the key in the lock.
'I am so very pleased at your success,' she said to him, in a tone of great emotion. 'Be kind to me to-day, and grant me the favour which you have hitherto refused. I assure you that Abbé Bourrette does not understand me. It is only you who can direct and save me.'
He motioned her away from him, and, when he had opened the door and lighted the little lamp which Rose had left at the foot of the staircase, he went upstairs, saying to her gently as he did so:
'You promised me to be reasonable—well, I will think over what you have asked. We will talk about it.'
Marthe did not retire to her own room until she had heard the priest close his door on the upper floor. While she was undressing and getting into bed she paid no attention whatever to Mouret, who, half asleep, was retailing100 to her at great length some gossip that was being circulated in the town. He had been to his club, the Commercial Club, a place where he rarely set foot.
'Abbé Faujas has got the better of Abbé Bourrette,' he repeated for the tenth time as he slowly rolled his head upon the pillow. 'Poor Abbé Bourrette! Well, never mind! it's good fun to see those parsons devouring101 one another. The other day when they were hugging each other in the garden—you remember it, don't you?—anyone would have thought that they were brothers. Ah! they rob each other even of their very penitents102. But why don't you say anything, my dear? You don't agree with me, eh? Or is it because you are going to sleep? Well, well, good-night then, my dear.'
He fell asleep, still muttering disjointed words, while Marthe, with widely opened eyes, stared up into the air and followed over the ceiling, faintly illumined by the night-light, the pattering of the Abbé's slippers103 while he was retiring to rest.
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betokening
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的现在分词 ) | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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stammered
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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sobbing
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worthy
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deserted
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unwilling
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10
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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13
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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14
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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15
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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17
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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19
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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20
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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21
detesting
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的现在分词 ) | |
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22
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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23
quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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24
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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25
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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26
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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28
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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29
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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30
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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31
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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32
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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34
detests
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的第三人称单数 ) | |
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35
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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36
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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37
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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38
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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39
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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40
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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41
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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42
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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45
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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46
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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47
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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48
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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49
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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50
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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51
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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52
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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53
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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54
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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55
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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56
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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57
creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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58
calumnies
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| n.诬蔑，诽谤，中伤（的话）( calumny的名词复数 ) | |
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59
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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60
assertive
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| adj.果断的，自信的，有冲劲的 | |
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61
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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62
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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63
pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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64
eulogistic
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| adj.颂扬的，颂词的 | |
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65
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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66
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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68
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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70
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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71
wheedling
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
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72
ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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73
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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74
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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75
grimacing
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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76
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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77
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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78
allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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79
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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80
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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81
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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82
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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83
luminary
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| n.名人，天体 | |
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84
lien
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| n.扣押权，留置权 | |
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85
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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86
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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87
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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88
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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89
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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90
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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91
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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92
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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93
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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94
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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95
cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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96
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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97
relinquishing
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的现在分词 )； 放弃 | |
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98
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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99
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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100
retailing
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| n.零售业v.零售(retail的现在分词) | |
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101
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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102
penitents
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| n.后悔者( penitent的名词复数 )；忏悔者 | |
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103
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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