Letters From My Windmill Alphonse Daudet (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📖

be heard. This was the onlyreaction you would get out of these workmen of the sea who were just aspatient and accepting of their own misfortune. No rebellions, nostrikes. Only sighs. Just sighs. And yet, perhaps I'm kidding myself.One of them, on his way to putting wood on the fire, whispered almostapologetically to me:

—You see, monsieur, there can be much suffering in our line of work….

THE CUCUGNANIAN PRIEST

Every year, at the feast of the presentation of Jesus, the Provencalpoets publish a wonderful little book overflowing with beautiful verseand great stories. I've only just received this year's copy, and insideI found this adorable little fable which I am going to try to translatefor you, albeit in a slightly abridged version…. Men of Paris,prepare yourselves for a treat. The finest flowering of Provencal flouris to be laid before you, right now….

* * * * *

Father Martin was the Cucugnan priest.

He was as wholesome as fresh bread, as good as gold, and he had apaternal love for his Cucugnanians. For him Cucugnan would have beenthe nearest thing to paradise on earth, if only the people had givenhim a little more, shall we say, business. But, sadly, his confessionalremained unused except as a larder for spiders. On Easter day, thehosts remained secure in their holy ciborium. It hurt the good priestto the very centre of his soul, and every day he prayed that he wouldlive to see his missing flock back in the fold.

Well, as you will see, the good Lord was listening.

One Sunday after the Gospels, monsieur Martin took his place in thepulpit.

* * * * *

—Bretheren, he said, believe me, or believe me not, the other night, Ifound myself, yes me, a miserable sinner, at the very gates of paradise.

"I knocked. St. Peter himself opened the gates!

"—Well! It's you, my dear monsieur Martin, he began, which finewind…? And what can I do for you?

"—Dear St. Peter, keeper of the key and the great book, if I may be sobold, could you tell me how many Cucugnanians are in heaven?

"—I can refuse you nothing, monsieur Martin. Sit down, we will look itup together.

"St. Peter then took up his thick book, opened it, and put on hisspec's:

"—Now then, let's see: Cucugnan, you say. Cu…Cu…Cucugnan. Here weare. Cucugnan…. My dear monsieur Martin, the page is purest white.Not a soul…. There are no more Cucugnanians than there are fish bonesin a turkey.

"—What! There's no one from Cucugnan here? No one? That's impossible!

Look again, more closely….

"—Nobody, Oh, holy man. Look for yourself, if you think I am joking.

"—My, oh my! Dear, oh dear! I stamped my feet, clenched my hands andcried,—Mercy me!—Then, St Peter continued:

"—Believe me, monsieur Martin, you mustn't take on so, you couldeasily have a stroke. After all, it's not your fault. You see, yourCucugnanians must, without fear of contradiction, be doing their spellin purgatory.

"—Oh! for charity's sake, great St. Peter, make it so that I can atleast see them to give them solace.

"—Willingly, my friend…. Here, put on these sandals, quickly, forthe rest of the way is none too smooth…. That's right…. Now, keepgoing straight on. Can you see a turning over there, at the far end?You will find a silver door completely covered with black crosses….On the right hand side…. When you knock, it will be opened untoyou…. Bye-bye! Be good and, above all, stay cheerful."

* * * * *

"And I kept on going … and kept on going. I was dead beat, andcovered in goose flesh; there was nothing to take my mind off things. Asmall footpath, full of brambles, and shining rubies and hissingsnakes, led me to the silver door.

"I knocked twice.

"—Who is it? asked a hoarse, deathly voice.

"—The priest of Cucugnan.

"—Of…?

"—Of Cucugnan.

"—Ah!… Come in.

"I entered. A great, beautiful angel, with wings as dark as the night,a robe as radiant as the day, and a diamond key hanging at his waist,was scratching something into a great book even thicker thanSt.Peter's….

"—Well, what do you want; do you have a question? said the angel.

"—Dear angel of the Lord, I would like to know, I am dying to know, infact, if you have the Cucugnanians here?

"—The?…

"—The Cucugnanians, the people from Cucugnan…. I am their prior.

"—Ah! Abbot Martin, is it?

"—At your service, monsieur angel."

* * * * *

"—Cucugnan, you say….

"The angel then opened his great book and leafed through it, lickinghis finger to turn the page….

"—Cucugnan, he gave a long sigh…. Monsieur Martin, we have no onehere in purgatory from Cucugnan.

"—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! No one from Cucugnan! Oh, Good Lord! So,where, forgive me, in heaven's name, are they, then?

"—Well! holy man, they are in paradise. Where on earth did you expectthem to be?

"—But I've just come from there.

"—You've come from there!… And?

"—And! They're not there!… Oh, dear Mother of God!

"—What can I do monsieur priest? If they're neither in paradise notpurgatory, there is no half way house, they are….

"—Holy Cross of Jesus, son of David! No, no, no, can it be?… Couldit be that the great St. Peter himself lied to me?… I never heard thecock crow. Oh, we are lost! How can I possibly go to heaven if my flockaren't there?

"—Listen, my poor monsieur Martin, as you want to be sure about allthis, no matter what, and to see for yourself what you have to do toturn things round, take that footpath, and run along it, if you knowhow to run…. You will come across a large gate on the left. There, itwill all be made clear to you. And by God himself!

"And the angel closed the door."

* * * * *

"It was a long pathway covered in red-hot embers. I staggered as if Ihad been drinking; I stumbled at every single step; I was covered insweat, a drop on every single hair of my body, and I was gasping forsomething to drink…. But, thanks to the sandals St. Peter lent me, Ididn't burn my feet.

"After stumbling and limping along for some time, I saw a door on theleft…. No, it was more a gate, an enormous,