XX
MAN OR WOMAN
Kilometres succeeded kilometres in endless procession. Ceaselessly thelandscapes unrolled themselves like views on a cinema film. Swiftly,regularly, relentlessly, the car sped forward. Again the priest, withhalf-closed eyes, snuggled into his cushions.
Fandor felt strangely drowsy. This was due, he thought, to the longjourney in the open air, and to a nervous fatigue induced by the tenseemotions of the day.
"The nuisance is," thought he, "that no sooner shall I lay my head onthe pillow to-night than I shall be snoring like the Seven Sleepers."
The car continued to advance.
After a sharp descent, the car turned to the right: the road now woundalong the side of a hill, bordered by the Seine on one side, and onthe other by perpendicular cliffs. High in the grey distance,dominating the countryside, rose the venerated sanctuary ofRouen--Notre Dame de Bon Secours.
"We have only six more kilometres to cover," remarked the abbe.
Soon they were moving at a slower pace through the outskirts of Rouen.
Jolted on the cobbles of the little street, thrown against each otherevery time the car side-slipped on the two rails running along themiddle of the roadway, Fandor and the little abbe were knocked wideawake.
"We are not going to stop?" asked Fandor.
"Yes. We must recruit ourselves: besides, I have to call at a certaingarage."
"Attention!" said Fandor to himself. "The doings of this little priestare likely to have a peculiar interest for me! At the least sign ofdanger, my Fandor, I give thee two minutes to cut and run!"
Our journalist knew Rouen well. He knew that to reach Barentin, thecar, passing out of the great square, surrounded by the new barracks,would follow the quay, traverse the town from end to end, pass nearthe famous transshipping bridge, and join the high road again.
"If we pull up at one of the garages along the quays, all will bewell," thought Fandor.... "In case of an alarm, a run of a hundredyards or so would bring me to one of the many electric tramways.... Ishould board a tram--devil take them, if they dared to chase and catchme!"
The car had reached the bridge which prolongs the rue Jeanne d'Arcacross the Seine. They were now in the heart of Rouen. The chauffeurturned:
"Can I stop, Monsieur? I need petrol and water."
The priest pointed to a garage.
"Stop there!"
The chauffeur began to supply the wants of his machine with the helpof an apprentice. The priest jumped out and entered the garage. Fandorfollowed on his heels, saying:
"It does one good to stretch one's legs!"
The abbe seemed in no wise disturbed. He walked up to the owner of theplace.
"Tell me, my friend, have you, by chance, received a telegramaddressed to the Abbe Gendron?"
"That is so, Monsieur. It will be for you?"...
"Yes, for me. I asked that a message should be sent to me here, ifnecessary."
Whilst the priest tore open his telegram, Fandor lit a cigarette....By hook or by crook, he must see the contents of this telegram whichhis travelling companion was reading with frowning brows. But Fandormight squint in the glass for the reflection of the message, passbehind the abbe to peep over his shoulder while pretending to examinethe posters decorating the garage walls: he had his pains for hisreward: it was impossible to decipher the text.... He must awaitdevelopments.
When the car was ready to start he decided to speak.
"You have not received vexatious instructions, I hope, Monsieurl'Abbe?"
"Not at all!"
"There is always something disquieting about a telegram!"
"This one tells me nothing I did not know already--at least,suspected! The only result is that instead of going to Havre we shallnow go to Dieppe."
"Why this change of destination?" was Fandor's mental query. "And whatdid this precious priest suspect?"
The abbe was giving the chauffeur instructions.
"You will leave Rouen by the new route.... You will draw up at anhotel which you will find on the right, named, if my memory does notplay me false, _The Flowery Crossways_."
"A pretty name!" remarked Fandor.
"A stupid name," replied the abbe. "The house does not stand at anycross-roads, and the place is as flowerless as it is possible to be!"There was a pause. "That matters little, however, Corporal: thequarters are good--the table sufficient. You shall judge for yourselfnow: here is the inn!"
Under the skillful guidance of the chauffeur, the car turned sharply,and passed under a little arch which served as a courtyard entrance.The car came to a stand-still in a great yard, crowded withunharnessed carts, stablemen, and Normandy peasants in their Sundaybest.
A stout man came forward. His head was as hairless as a billiard ball.This was the hotel-keeper. To every question put by the little abbe hereplied with a broad grin which displayed his toothless gums. Hisvoice was as odd as his appearance, it was high-pitched and quavering.
"You can give us dinner?"
"Why, certainly, Monsieur le Cure."
"You have a coach-house where the car can be put up?"
With a comprehensive sweep of his arm, mine host of _The FloweryCrossways_ indicated the courtyard. The carts of his regular clientswere left there in his charge: he could not see why the motor-car ofthese strangers could not pass the night there also.
"And you can reserve three rooms for us?" was the little abbe's finaldemand.
This time the face of mine host lost its jovial assurance.
"Three rooms? Ah, no, Monsieur le Cure--that is quite impossible!...But we can manage all the same.... I have an attic for your chauffeur,and a fine double-bedded room for you and Monsieur the corporal....That will suit you--I think?"
"Yes, quite well! Very well, indeed!" declared Fandor, delighted atthis opportunity of keeping his queer travelling companion under hiseye.
The little abbe was far from satisfied.
"What! You have not two rooms for us?" he expostulated. "I have ahorror of sharing a room with anyone whatever! I am not accustomed toit; and I cannot sleep under those conditions!"
"Monsieur le Cure, it's full up here! I have a wedding party on myhands!"
"Well, then is there no hotel near by, where I can."...
"No, Monsieur le Cure: I am the only hotel-keeper about here!"
"Is it far to the parsonage?"
"But, my dear Abbe!" protested Fandor: "I beg of you to take the room!I can sleep anywhere ... on two chairs in the dining-room!"
"Certainly not!" declared the little priest. He turned to thehotel-keeper: "Tell me just how far the parsonage is from here?"
"At least eight kilometres."
"Oh, then, it is out of the question! What a disagreeable businessthis is!... We shall pass a dreadful night!"
The abbe was greatly put out.
"No, no! I will leave the room to you!" again protested Fandor.
"Do not talk so childishly, Corporal! We have to be on the road againto-morrow. What good purpose will it serve if we allow ourselves to beover-fatigued and so fit for nothing?... After all, a bad night will notlast forever!... We must manage to put up with the inconvenience."
Fandor nodded acquiescence. Things were going as he wished.
"Dinner at once!" ordered the abbe.
An affable Normandy girl laid their table in a small room: a profusionof black cocks with scarlet combs decorated the paper on its walls.The effect was at once bewildering and weirdly funereal.
Meanwhile the abbe walked up and down in the courtyard; to judge byhis expression he was in no pleasant frame of mind.
When he came to table, Fandor noticed that he forgot to pronounce theBenedicite. He was still more interested when the ecclesiasticattacked a tasty chicken with great gusto.
"This is certainly the 1st of December, therefore a fast day accordingto the episcopal mandate, which I have read ... and behold my littlepriest is devouring meat! The hotel-keeper offered us fish just now,and I quite understood why,
but it seems fasting is not obligatory forthis priest--unless this priest is not a priest!"
Whilst the abbe was enjoying his chicken in silence, with eyes fixedon his plate, Fandor once again subjected him to a minute examination.He noted his delicate features, his slim hands, his gracefulattitudes: he was so impressed by this and various little details,that when the abbe, after dessert and a last glass of cider, rose andproposed that they should go up to their room for the night, Fandordeclared to himself:
"My head on a charger for it! I bet that little abbe is a woman, thenmore mystery, and a probable husband or lover who may come on thescene presently! Fandor, my boy, beware of this baggage! Not an eyemust you close this night!"
The priest had had the famous package taken upstairs and placed at thefoot of his bed.
Fandor and the abbe wished each other good night.
"As for me," declared Fandor, unlacing his boots, "I cannot keep myeyes open!"
"I can say the same," replied his companion.
Fandor's next remark had malice in it.
"I pity you, Monsieur l'Abbe! No doubt you have long prayers torecite--especially if you have not finished your breviary!"
"You are mistaken," answered the abbe, with a slight smile: "I amdispensed from a certain number of religious exercises!"
"A fig for you, my fine fellow!" said Fandor to himself. "The deuce isin if I do not catch you out over one of your lies!"
The little abbe was seated on a chair attending to his nails.
Fandor walked to the door, explaining:
"I have a horror of sleeping in an hotel bedroom with an unlockeddoor!... You will allow me to turn the key?"
"Turn it, then!"
Locking the door, Fandor drew the key and threw it on to the priest'slap.
"There, Monsieur l'Abbe, if you like to put it on your bedside table!"
Fandor's action had a purpose. Ten to one you settle the sex of adoubtful individual by such a test. A man instinctively draws hisknees together when an object is thrown on them: a woman draws themapart, to make a wider surface of the skirt for the reception of anarticle and thus prevent its fall to the ground.
Fandor was not surprised to see the little priest instinctively act aswould a woman.... But, would not a priest, accustomed to wear acassock, act as a woman would? Fandor realised that, in this instance,the riddle of sex was still unsolved.
Fandor-Vinson began to undress: the priest continued to polish hisnails.
"You are not going to bed, Monsieur l'Abbe?"
"Yes, I am."
The ecclesiastic took off his shoes; then his collar. Then he lay downon the bed.
"You will sleep with all your clothes on?" asked Fandor-Vinson.
"Yes, when I have to sleep in a bed I am not accustomed to!... ShouldI blow out the candle, Corporal?"
"Blow it out, Monsieur l'Abbe."
Fandor felt sure the little priest was a woman disguised. He dare nottake off his cassock because he was she!
Wishing his strange companion a good night's rest, Fandor snuggledunder the bedclothes. Determined to keep awake and alert, he tried topass the dark hours by mentally reciting _Le Cid_!