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Updated: June 2, 2025
From afar, too, the faint breeze wafted the sounds of the rocks splitting in their passion beneath the burning heat, while near them the spiky plants loved in a tragic fashion of their own, unrefreshed by the neighbouring springs, which themselves glowed with the love of the passionate sun. 'What do they say? asked Serge, half swooning, as Albine pressed him to her bosom.
Are you a brute beast to go coursing through the woods with that female? She has led you far astray, has she not? She has besmeared you with filth, and now you are hairy like a goat.... Pluck a branch from the trees wherewith to smite her on the back. Again Albine whispered in an ardent, prayerful voice: 'Do you love me? Do you love me?
He raised his head and called: 'Albine! Albine! Then with a shrug of his shoulders, he added: 'Yes, my word, she is a nice hussy.... Well, till next time, Monsieur le Cure. I'm always at your disposal. Abbe Mouret, however, had no time to accept the Philosopher's challenge.
'If you still love me, go away.... O Lord, pardon her, and pardon me too, for thus defiling this Thy house. Should I go with her beyond the door, I might, perhaps, follow her. Here, in Thy presence, I am strong. Suffer that I may remain here, to protect Thee from insult. Albine remained silent for a moment. Then, in a calm voice, she said: 'Well, let us stay here, then. I wish to speak to you.
Serge ended by climbing the highest of the ruinous masses; and, looking round at the park which unfolded its vast expanse of greenery, he sought the grey form of the pavilion through the trees. Albine was standing silent by his side, serious once more. 'The pavilion is yonder, to the right, she said at last, without waiting for Serge to ask her. 'It is the only one of the buildings that is left.
In their depths the sun beat against the sand in a breathing living dust of light. And they darted out of their basin like arms of purest white, they rebounded like nude infants at play, and then suddenly leapt down in a waterfall whose curve suggested a woman's breast. 'Dip your hands in, cried Albine; 'the water is icy cold at the bottom. They were indeed able to refresh their hot hands.
Serge, entranced, lingered upon the threshold, with a hesitating desire to feel that luminous lake with his foot. 'One would think you were afraid of wetting yourself, said Albine. 'Don't be frightened, the ground is safe enough. He had ventured to take one step, and was astonished at encountering the soft resistance of the gravel.
Serge had insisted on Albine closing the shutters. By lamplight he was no longer troubled by the gloom of the pallid curtains, he no longer felt the greyness of the sky glide in through the smallest chinks, and flow up to him like a cloud of dust intent on burying him.
Albine thereupon began to scold him, and threatened that she would not nurse him if he made himself ill again. 'Stuff! he cried, 'it's done me good. When I have grown quite strong again, I will carry you about all day. But where are you taking me? 'Here, she said, as she seated herself beneath a huge pear-tree. They were in the old orchard of the park.
One of the four peasants who had carried the coffin, wanted to lead him away, conduct him home; but he refused with a gesture and remained where he was, fierce and sullen, wishing to see Albine lowered into the pit. 'There! it's our turn at last! said Rosalie with a little sigh.
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