attentively. Filled with shame of myself, I let my head fallupon my breast and covered my face with my hands.
'Romuald, my friend, something very extraordinary is transpiring withinyou,' observed Serapion, after a few moments' silence; 'your conduct isaltogether inexplicable. You--always so quiet, so pious, so gentle--youto rage in your cell like a wild beast! Take heed, brother--do notlisten to the suggestions of the devil The Evil Spirit, furious that youhave consecrated yourself for ever to the Lord, is prowling around youlike a ravening wolf and making a last effort to obtain possession ofyou. Instead of allowing yourself to be conquered, my dear Romuald,make to yourself a cuirass of prayers, a buckler of mortifications, andcombat the enemy like a valiant man; you will then assuredly overcomehim. Virtue must be proved by temptation, and gold comes forth purerfrom the hands of the assayer. Fear not. Never allow yourself to becomediscouraged. The most watchful and steadfast souls are at moments liableto such temptation. Pray, fast, meditate, and the Evil Spirit willdepart from you.'
The words of the Abbe Serapion restored me to myself, and I became alittle more calm. 'I came,' he continued, 'to tell you that you havebeen appointed to the curacy of C------. The priest who had charge ofit has just died, and Monseigneur the Bishop has ordered me to have youinstalled there at once. Be ready, therefore, to start to-morrow.'I responded with an inclination of the head, and the Abbe retired. Iopened my missal and commenced reading some prayers, but the lettersbecame confused and blurred under my eyes, the thread of the ideasentangled itself hopelessly in my brain, and the volume at last fellfrom my hands without my being aware of it.
To leave to-morrow without having been able to see her again, to add yetanother barrier to the many already interposed between us, to losefor ever all hope of being able to meet her, except, indeed, through amiracle! Even to write to her, alas! would be impossible, for by whomcould I dispatch my letter? With my sacred character of priest, to whomcould I dare unbosom myself, in whom could I confide? I became a prey tothe bitterest anxiety.
Then suddenly recurred to me the words of the Abbe Serapion regardingthe artifices of the devil; and the strange character of the adventure,the supernatural beauty of Clarimonde, the phosphoric light of her eyes,the burning imprint of her hand, the agony into which she had thrownme, the sudden change wrought within me when all my piety vanished in asingle instant--these and other things clearly testified to the workof the Evil One, and perhaps that satiny hand was but the glove whichconcealed his claws. Filled with terror at these fancies, I again pickedup the missal which had slipped from my knees and fallen upon the floor,and once more gave myself up to prayer.
Next morning Serapion came to take me away. Two mules freighted withour miserable valises awaited us at the gate. He mounted one, and I theother as well as I knew how.
As we passed along the streets of the city, I gazed attentively at allthe windows and balconies in the hope of seeing Clarimonde, but it wasyet early in the morning, and the city had hardly opened its eyes. Minesought to penetrate the blinds and window-curtains of all the palacesbefore which we were passing. Serapion doubtless attributed thiscuriosity to my admiration of the architecture, for he slackened thepace of his animal in order to give me time to look around me. At lastwe passed the city gates and commenced to mount the hill beyond. Whenwe arrived at its summit I turned to take a last look at the place whereClarimonde dwelt. The shadow of a great cloud hung over all the city;the contrasting colours of its blue and red roofs were lost in theuniform half-tint, through which here and there floated upward, likewhite flakes of foam, the smoke of freshly kindled fires. By asingular optical effect one edifice, which surpassed in height all theneighbouring buildings that were still dimly veiled by the vapours,towered up, fair and lustrous with the gilding of a solitary beam ofsunlight--although actually more than a league away it seemedquite near. The smallest details of its architecture were plainlydistinguishable--the turrets, the platforms, the window-casements, andeven the swallow-tailed weather-vanes.
'What is that palace I see over there, all lighted up by the sun?' Iasked Serapion. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and having looked inthe direction indicated, replied: 'It is the ancient palace which thePrince Concini has given to the courtesan Clarimonde. Awful things aredone there!'
At that instant, I know not yet whether it was a reality or an illusion,I fancied I saw gliding along the terrace a shapely white figure,which gleamed for a moment in passing and as quickly vanished. It wasClarimonde.
Oh, did she know that at that very hour, all feverish and restless--fromthe height of the rugged road which separated me from her, and which,alas! I could never more descend--I was directing my eyes upon thepalace where she dwelt, and which a mocking beam of sunlight seemed tobring nigh to me, as though inviting me to enter therein as its lord?Undoubtedly she must have known it, for her soul was too sympatheticallyunited with mine not to have felt its least emotional thrill, and thatsubtle sympathy it must have been which prompted her to climb--althoughclad only in her nightdress--to the summit of the terrace, amid the icydews of the morning.
The shadow gained the palace, and the scene became to the eye onlya motionless ocean of roofs and gables, amid which one mountainousundulation was distinctly visible. Serapion urged his mule forward, myown at once followed at the same gait, and a sharp angle in the road atlast hid the city of S------ for ever from my eyes, as I was destinednever to return thither. At the close of a weary three-days' journeythrough dismal country fields, we caught sight of the cock upon thesteeple of the church which I was to take charge of, peeping abovethe trees, and after having followed some winding roads fringed withthatched cottages and little gardens, we found ourselves in front of thefacade, which certainly possessed few features of magnificence. A porchornamented with some mouldings, and two or three pillars rudely hewnfrom sandstone; a tiled roof with counterforts of the same sandstone asthe pillars--that was all. To the left lay the cemetery, overgrown withhigh weeds, and having a great iron cross rising up in its centre; tothe right stood the presbytery under the shadow of the church. It was ahouse of the most extreme simplicity and frigid cleanliness. We enteredthe enclosure. A few chickens were picking up some oats scattered uponthe ground; accustomed, seemingly, to the black habit of ecclesiastics,they showed no fear of our presence and scarcely troubled themselves toget out of our way. A hoarse, wheezy barking fell upon our ears, and wesaw an aged dog running toward us.
It was my predecessor's dog. He had dull bleared eyes, grizzled hair,and every mark of the greatest age to which a dog can possibly attain.I patted him gently, and he proceeded at once to march along beside mewith an air of satisfaction unspeakable. A very old woman, who had beenthe housekeeper of the former cure, also came to meet us, and afterhaving invited me into a little back parlour, asked whether I intendedto retain her. I replied that I would take care of her, and the dog, andthe chickens, and all the furniture her master had bequeathed her athis death. At this she became fairly transported with joy, and theAbbe Serapion at once paid her the price which she asked for her littleproperty.
As soon as my installation was over, the Abbe Serapion returned to theseminary. I was, therefore, left alone, with no one but myself to lookto for aid or counsel. The thought of Clarimonde again began to hauntme, and in spite of all my endeavours to banish it, I always found itpresent in my meditations. One evening, while promenading in my littlegarden along the walks bordered with box-plants, I fancied that I sawthrough the elm-trees the figure of a woman, who followed my everymovement, and that I beheld two sea-green eyes gleaming through thefoliage; but it was only an illusion, and on going round to the otherside of the garden, I could find nothing except a footprint on thesanded walk--a footprint so small that it seemed to have been madeby the foot of a child. The garden was enclosed by very high walls. Isearched every nook and corner of it, but could discover no one there.I have never succeeded in fully accounting for this circumstance, which,after all, was nothing compared with the strange things which happenedto me afterward
.
For a whole year I lived thus, filling all the duties of my callingwith the most scrupulous exactitude, praying and fasting, exhorting andlending ghostly aid to the sick, and bestowing alms even to the extentof frequently depriving myself of the very necessaries of life. But Ifelt a great aridness within me, and the sources of grace seemed closedagainst me. I never found that happiness which should spring from thefulfilment of a holy mission; my thoughts were far away, and the wordsof Clarimonde were ever upon my lips like an involuntary refrain. Oh,brother, meditate well on this! Through having but once lifted my eyesto look upon a woman, through one fault apparently so venial, I have foryears remained a victim to the most miserable agonies, and the happinessof my life has been destroyed for ever.
I will not longer dwell upon those defeats, or on those inward victoriesinvariably followed by yet more terrible falls, but will at once proceedto the facts of