The Grip of Desire Part 19

He lost his presence of mind, his will wavered and sank in the molten lava of his desires; he lost perception of his surroundings, of all those formidable things which until then had bound him with the strong bands of moral authority; he thought no longer of anything, he paused no longer at anything, he saw nothing but this fair young girl whom he coveted, who was alone with him, her hand in his, sitting by his fire-side, in the silence and the mystery of the night. His clasp became convulsive. Under the fire of his burning gaze Suzanne raised her head, and a second time fell back in dismay. She tried to release her imprisoned hand, but he bent over it, and pressed it to his lips.

The door opened wide.

--Don't get impatient, said Marianne, there is the hot wine. I have been a long time, but the wood was green. Are you better?

But Suzanne, trembling all over, remained silent.

x.x.xIX.

THE DEVIL IN PETTICOATS.

"I know an infallible means of drawing you back from the precipice on which you stand."

CHARLES (_Des Ill.u.s.tres Francaises_).

--Wretch that I am. I have defiled a pure confiding child, who came in all loyalty to sit at my fire-side. Vile and cowardly nature, like some base Lovelace, I have grossly abused the confidence which was placed in me. My priestly robe, far from being a safeguard, is but a cloke for my iniquities. I have reached that pitch of cowardice that I am no longer master of myself.

Incapable of commanding my feelings; become the slave and the plaything of my shameful desires and of my l.u.s.tful pa.s.sions!... It must have happened.

Yes, it must have happened. Sooner or later I was obliged to fall: it is the chastis.e.m.e.nt of my presumption and pride. Ah! wretch, you wish to subdue the flesh, you wish to reform nature, you wish to be wiser than G.o.d.

They tried at the seminary by means of _nenuphar_ and _infusions of nitre_ to quench in you the desires of youth and its rebellious pa.s.sion. Vain efforts, senseless attempts, which served only to r.e.t.a.r.d your fall. In vain you try, in vain you struggle, in vain you invoke the angels and call G.o.d to your aid; there comes a time, a moment, a minute, a second, in which all your life of struggles and efforts is lost. The angry flesh subdues you in its turn, baffled nature revolts, and the Creator, whose laws you have not recognized, abandons the worthless creature and lets him roll over, falling into an abyss of iniquity.

Oh! my G.o.d! where is all this going to bring me? What will become of me?

How can I show my brow all covered with shame? Is not my infamy written there?... She, she, what will she think of me?... To kiss her hand, her soft perfumed hand. Oh G.o.d, G.o.d all-powerful, where am I? where am I going?

I said it; martyrdom or shame! It is shame which awaits me.

So spoke the Cure, when Marianne had taken away her young mistress, and his conscience exaggerated the gravity and the consequences of his imprudent rapture.

--Yes, it is shame, it is shame.

--Do not despair in this way, said a jeering voice.

Marcel turned round, terror-struck.

His servant was behind him.

She had approached, noiselessly, and was looking at him with her strange, green eyes.

--Shame lies in scandal, she added sententiously. Rea.s.sure yourself; that pretty young lady will hold her tongue.

She spoke low, slowly, with perfect calm, and each word penetrated the priest's heart like a steel blade.

Like all persons ashamed of having been caught, he put himself in a pa.s.sion.

--You! he cried. You here? Who called you? You were not gone to bed then?

What do you want? What have you just been doing? You are always listening then at the doors?

--That is useful sometimes, the woman said sententiously.

--What, you dare to admit that wretched fault without blus.h.i.+ng at it?

--There are many others who ought to blush and yet don't blush.

--What do you mean? Come, speak? what do you want?

--Only to talk with you. You have had a long talk with Mademoiselle Suzanne Durand! you can well listen to me a little in my turn.

--What do you say? wicked creature! what do you say?

--Oh, Monsieur le Cure, you are wrong to call me wicked, I am not so.

--You are, at the very least, most indiscreet.

--Oh, sir, it is not my fault; it is quite involuntarily that I have been a witness of what pa.s.sed.

--Eh! what has pa.s.sed then?

--Sir, don't question me, she said in a pitying tone, _I have heard and seen_.

--You have seen! cried the priest in a stifled voice. What have you seen then, wretched woman?

And mad with anger, with blazing eyes and clenched fists, he sprang upon the servant, who was afraid and retreated to the door.

--Please, Monsieur le Cure, she implored, don't hurt me.

These words recalled the priest to himself.

--No, he said as he sat down again, no, Veronica, I shall not hurt you. I flew into a pa.s.sion, I was wrong; pardon me. Rea.s.sure yourself; see, I am calm; come closer and let us talk. Come closer. Sit here, in front of me.

--I will do so. Ah! you frighten me....

--It is your fault, Veronica; why do you put me into such pa.s.sion?

--It was not my intention; far from it. I wanted to talk with you very peaceably, like the _other_, it is so nice.

--Please, enough of that subject.

--Oh, Monsieur le Cure, it is just about that I want to speak to you.

--Do not jest, Veronica. You have been, thanks to your culpable indiscretion, witness of a momentary error, which will not be repeated any more.

--A momentary error, which would have led you to some pretty things, Monsieur le Cure. Good G.o.d! if Marianne had not arrived in time, who knows what might have happened.

--It is not for you to blame me, Veronica. There is only G.o.d who is without sin.