angered me that he should say so. My heart was sore as if my friendhad forsaken me. And then it was that the worst step was taken in thiscrusade of false religion. It was from my mother that I heard of itfirst. One day she came home in great excitement, saying that now indeeda real light was to be shed upon all that had happened to us.
'It appears,' she said, 'that Pierre Plastron was in the hospital allthe time, and heard and saw many wonderful things. Sister Genevieve hasjust told me. It is wonderful beyond anything you could believe. He hasspoken with our holy patron himself, St. Lambert, and has receivedinstructions for a pilgrimage--'
'Pierre Plastron!' I cried; 'Pierre Plastron saw nothing, ma mere. Hewas not even aware that anything remarkable had occurred. He complainedto us of the Sisters that they neglected him; he knew nothing more.'
'My son,' she said, looking upon me with reproving eyes, 'what have thegood Sisters done to thee? Why is it that you look so unfavourably uponeverything that comes from the community of St. Jean?'
'What have I to do with the community?' I cried--'when I tell thee,Maman, that this Pierre Plastron knows nothing! I heard it from thefellow's own lips, and M. le Cure was present and heard him too. He hadseen nothing, he knew nothing. Inquire of M. le Cure, if you have doubtsof me.'
'I do not doubt you, Martin,' said my mother, with severity, 'when youare not biassed by prejudice. And, as for M. le Cure, it is well knownthat the clergy are often jealous of the good Sisters, when they are notunder their own control.'
Such was the injustice with which we were treated. And next day nothingwas talked of but the revelation of Pierre Plastron. What he had seenand what he had heard was wonderful. All the saints had come and talkedwith him, and told him what he was to say to his townsmen. They told himexactly how everything had happened: how St. Jean himself had interferedon behalf of the Sisters, and how, if we were not more attentive to theduties of religion, certain among us would be bound hand and foot andcast into the jaws of hell. That I was one, nay the chief, of thesedenounced persons, no one could have any doubt. This exasperated me; andas soon as I knew that this folly had been printed and was in everyhouse, I hastened to M. le Cure, and entreated him in his next Sunday'ssermon to tell the true story of Pierre Plastron, and reveal theimposture. But M. le Cure shook his head. 'It will do no good,' he said.
'But how no good?' said I. 'What good are we looking for? These arelies, nothing but lies. Either he has deceived the poor ladies basely,or they themselves--but this is what I cannot believe.'
'Dear friend,' he said, 'compose thyself. Have you never discovered yethow strong is self-delusion? There will be no lying of which they areaware. Figure to yourself what a stimulus to the imagination to knowthat he was here, actually here. Even I--it suggests a hundred things tome. The Sisters will have said to him (meaning no evil, nay meaning theedification of the people), "But, Pierre, reflect! You must have seenthis and that. Recall thy recollections a little." And by degrees Pierrewill have found out that he remembered--more than could have beenhoped.'
'_Mon Dieu_!' I cried, out of patience, 'and you know all this, yet youwill not tell them the truth--the very truth.'
'To what good?' he said. Perhaps M. le Cure was right: but, for my part,had I stood up in that pulpit, I should have contradicted their lies andgiven no quarter. This, indeed, was what I did both in my private andpublic capacity; but the people, though they loved me, did not believeme. They said, 'The best men have their prejudices. M. le Maire is anexcellent man; but what will you? He is but human after all.'
M. le Cure and I said no more to each other on this subject. He was abrave man, yet here perhaps he was not quite brave. And the effect ofPierre Plastron's revelations in other quarters was to turn the awe thathad been in many minds into mockery and laughter. '_Ma foi_,' said Felixde Bois-Sombre, 'Monseigneur St. Lambert has bad taste, mon ami Martin,to choose Pierre Plastron for his confidant when he might have hadthee.' 'M. de Bois-Sombre does ill to laugh,' said my mother (even mymother! she was not on my side), 'when it is known that the foolish areoften chosen to confound the wise.' But Agnes, my wife, it was she whogave me the best consolation. She turned to me with the tears in herbeautiful eyes.
'Mon ami,' she said, 'let Monseigneur St. Lambert say what he will. Heis not God that we should put him above all. There were other saintswith other thoughts that came for thee and for me!'
All this contradiction was over when Agnes and I together took ourflowers on the _jour des morts_ to the graves we love. Glimmering amongthe rest was a new cross which I had not seen before. This was theinscription upon it:--
A PAUL LECAMUS PARTI LE 20 JUILLET, 1875 AVEC LES BIEN-AIMES
On it was wrought in the marble a little branch of olive. I turned tolook at my wife as she laid underneath this cross a handful of violets.She gave me her hand still fragrant with the flowers. There was none ofhis family left to put up for him any token of human remembrance. Whobut she should have done it, who had helped him to join that company andarmy of the beloved? 'This was our brother,' she said; 'he will tell myMarie what use I made of her olive leaves.'
THE END
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