The Village Rector by Honoré de Balzac (tohfa e dulha read online TXT) 📖

to Monsieur de Grandville."

The old woman clasped her hands with a feverish shudder.

"There is no longer any hope," she said, seizing the rector's hand.

The carriage, announced by the postilion's whip, was now coming up the last slope; the gates were opened, it entered the courtyard, and the travellers came at once to the terrace. They were the illustrious Archbishop Dutheil, who was on his way to consecrate Monseigneur Gabriel de Rastignac, the _procureur-general_, Monsieur de Grandville, Monsieur Grossetete, Monsieur Roubaud, and one of the most celebrated physicians in Paris, Horace Bianchon.

"You are very welcome," said Veronique, advancing toward them,--"you particularly," she added, offering her hand to Monsieur de Grandville, who took it and pressed it.

"I counted on the intervention of Monseigneur and on that of my friend Monsieur Grossetete to obtain for me a favorable reception," said the _procureur-general_. "It would have been a life-long regret to me if I did not see you again."

"I thank those who brought you here," replied Veronique, looking at the Comte de Grandville for the first time in fifteen years. "I have felt averse to you for a very long time, but I now recognize the injustice of my feelings; and you shall know why, if you can stay till the day after to-morrow at Montegnac." Then turning to Horace Bianchon and bowing to him, she added: "Monsieur will no doubt confirm my apprehensions. God must have sent you, Monseigneur," she said, turning to the archbishop. "In memory of our old friendship you will not refuse to assist me in my last moments. By whose mercy is it that I have about me all the beings who have loved and supported me in life?"

As she said the word _loved_ she turned with a gracious look to Monsieur de Grandville, who was touched to tears by this mark of feeling. Silence fell for a few moments on every one. The doctors wondered by what occult power this woman could still keep her feet, suffering as she must have suffered. The other three men were so shocked at the ravages disease had suddenly made in her that they communicated their thoughts by their eyes only.

"Allow me," she said, with her accustomed grace, "to leave you now with these gentlemen; the matter is urgent."

She bowed to her guests, gave an arm to each of the doctors, and walked toward the chateau feebly and slowly, with a difficulty which told only too plainly of the coming catastrophe.

"Monsieur Bonnet," said the archbishop, looking at the rector, "you have accomplished a miracle."

"Not I, but God, Monseigneur," he replied.

"They said she was dying," said Monsieur Grossetete, "but she is dead; there is nothing left of her but spirit."

"A soul," said Gerard.

"And yet she is still the same," cried the _procureur-general_.

"A stoic after the manner of the Porch philosophers," said the tutor.

They walked in silence the whole length of the balustrade, looking at the landscape still red with the declining light.

"To me who saw this scene thirteen years ago," said the archbishop, pointing to the fertile plain, the valley, and the mountains of Montegnac, "this miracle is as extraordinary as that we have just witnessed. But how comes it that you allow Madame Graslin to walk about? She ought to be in her bed."

"She was there," said Madame Sauviat; "for ten days she did not leave it; but to-day she insisted on getting up to take a last look at the landscape."

"I can understand that she wanted to bid farewell to her great creation," said Monsieur de Grandville; "but she risked expiring on this terrace."

"Monsieur Roubaud told us not to thwart her," said Madame Sauviat.

"What a stupendous work! what a miracle has been accomplished!" said the archbishop, whose eyes were roving over the scene before him. "She has literally sown the desert! But we know, monsieur," he added, turning to Gerard, "that your scientific knowledge and your labors have a large share in it."

"They have been only the workmen," replied the mayor. "Yes, the hands only; she has been the thought."

Madame Sauviat here left the group, to hear, if possible, the decision of the doctors.

"We need some heroism ourselves," said Monsieur de Grandville to the rector and the archbishop, "to enable us to witness this death."

"Yes," said Monsieur Grossetete, who overheard him, "but we ought to do much for such a friend."

After several turns up and down the terrace, these persons, full of solemn thoughts, saw two farmers approaching them, sent as a deputation from the village, where the inhabitants were in a state of painful anxiety to know the sentence pronounced by the physician from Paris.

"They are still consulting, and as yet we know nothing, my friends," said the archbishop.

As he spoke, Monsieur Roubaud appeared coming toward them, and they all hurried to meet him.

"Well?" said the mayor.

"She cannot live forty-eight hours longer," replied Monsieur Roubaud. "During my absence the disease has fully developed; Monsieur Bianchon does not understand how it was possible for her to have walked. Such phenomenal exhibitions of strength are always caused by great mental exaltation. So, gentlemen," said the doctor to the priests, "she belongs to you now; science is useless, and my illustrious fellow-physician thinks you have barely time enough for your last offices."

"Let us go now and say the prayers for the forty hours," said the rector to his parishioners, turning to leave the terrace. "His Grace will doubtless administer the last sacraments."

The archbishop bowed his head; he could not speak; his eyes were full of tears. Every one sat down, or leaned against the balustrade, absorbed in his own thought. The church bells presently sent forth a few sad calls, and then the whole population were seen hurrying toward the porch. The gleam of the lighted tapers shone through the trees in Monsieur Bonnet's garden; the chants resounded. No color was left in the landscape but the dull red hue of the dusk; even the birds had hushed their songs; the tree-frog alone sent forth its long, clear, melancholy note.

"I will go and do my duty," said the archbishop, turning away with a slow step like a man overcome with emotion.

The consultation had taken place in the great salon of the chateau. This vast room communicated with a state bedchamber, furnished in red damask, in which Graslin had displayed a certain opulent magnificence. Veronique had not entered it six times in fourteen years; the grand apartments were quite useless to her, and she never received her friends there. But now the effort she had made to accomplish her last obligation, and to overcome her last repugnance had exhausted her strength, and she was wholly unable to mount the stairs to her own rooms.

When the illustrious physician had taken the patient's hand and felt her pulse he looked at Monsieur Roubaud and made him a sign; then together they lifted her and carried her into the chamber. Aline hastily opened the doors. Like all state beds the one in this room had no sheets, and the two doctors laid Madame Graslin on the damask coverlet. Roubaud opened the windows, pushed back the outer blinds, and called. The servants and Madame Sauviat went in. The tapers in the candelabra were lighted.

"It is ordained," said the dying woman, smiling, "that my death shall be what that of a Christian should be--a festival!"

During the consultation she said:--

"The _procureur-general_ has done his professional duty; I was going, and he has pushed me on."

The old mother looked at her and laid a finger on her lips.

"Mother, I shall speak," replied Veronique. "See! the hand of God is in all this; I am dying in a red room--"

Madame Sauviat went out, unable to bear those words.

"Aline," she said, "she will speak! she will speak!"

"Ah! madame is out of her mind," cried the faithful maid, who was bringing sheets. "Fetch the rector, madame."

"Your mistress must be undressed," said Bianchon to the maid.

"It will be very difficult to do it, monsieur; madame is wrapped in a hair-cloth garment."

"What! in the nineteenth-century can such horrors be revived?" said the great doctor.

"Madame Graslin has never allowed me to touch her stomach," said Roubaud. "I have been able to judge of the progress of the disease only from her face and her pulse, and the little information I could get from her mother and the maid."

Veronique was now placed on a sofa while the bed was being made. The doctors spoke together in a low voice. Madame Sauviat and Aline made the bed. The faces of the two women were full of anguish; their hearts were wrung by the thought, "We are making her bed for the last time--she will die here!"

The consultation was not long. But Bianchon exacted at the outset that Aline should, in spite of the patient's resistance, cut off the hair shirt and put on a night-dress. The doctors returned to the salon while this was being done. When Aline passed them carrying the instrument of torture wrapped in a napkin, she said:--

"Madame's body is one great wound."

The doctors returned to the bedroom.

"Your will is stronger than that of Napoleon, madame," said Bianchon, after asking a few questions, to which Veronique replied very clearly. "You keep your mind and your faculties in the last stages of a disease which robbed the Emperor of his brilliant intellect. From what I know of you I think I ought to tell you the truth."

"I implore you to do so," she said. "You are able to estimate what strength remains to me; and I have need of all my vigor for a few hours."

"Think only of your salvation," replied Bianchon.

"If God has given me grace to die in possession of all my faculties," she said with a celestial smile, "be sure that this favor will be used to the glory of his Church. The possession of my mind and senses is necessary to fulfil a command of God, whereas Napoleon had accomplished all his destiny."

The doctors looked at each other in astonishment at hearing these words, said with as much ease as though Madame Graslin were still presiding in her salon.

"Ah! here is the doctor who is to cure me," she said presently, when the archbishop, summoned by Roubaud, entered the room.

She collected all her strength and rose to a sitting posture, in order to bow graciously to Monsieur Bianchon, and beg him to accept something else than money for the good news he gave her. She said a few words in her mother's ear, and Madame Sauviat immediately led away the doctors; then Veronique requested the archbishop to postpone their interview till the rector could come to her, expressing a wish to rest for a while. Aline watched beside her.

At midnight Madame Graslin awoke, and asked for the archbishop and rector, whom Aline silently showed her close at hand, praying for her. She made a sign dismissing her mother and the maid, and, at another sign, the two priests came to the bedside.

"Monseigneur, and you, my dear rector," she said, "will hear nothing you do not already know. You were the first, Monseigneur, to cast your eyes into my inner self; you read there nearly all my past; and what you read sufficed you. My confessor, that guardian angel whom heaven placed near me, knows more; I have told him all. You, whose minds