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Updated: June 21, 2025
He had just remembered the feeling he had long ago experienced in the chapel of the seminary. That was the icy robe enwrapping his shoulders and turning him to stone. And then his life as a priest took complete possession of his thoughts. The vague recollections which had haunted him as he walked from Les Artaud to the Paradou became more and more distinct and assumed complete mastery over him.
When he had got through Les Artaud, his fear became so lively that he hesitated, full of trepidation, and wondered if it would not be better to go round and reach the parsonage by way of the church. But, while he deliberated, La Teuse herself appeared on the doorstep of the parsonage, her cap all awry, and her hands on her hips.
The big black dog watching over Les Artaud had determined to come up to Abbe Mouret, and now sat upon its haunches at the priest's feet; but the unconscious man remained absorbed amidst the sweetness of the morning. On the previous evening he had begun the exercises of the Rosary, and to the intercession of the Virgin with her Divine Son he attributed the great joy which filled his soul.
See also, for an account of it, Salleugre, M.m. de Litt., ii. 6, 203; and Schelhorn, Amoen. Pasquin himself has hardly said a shrewder saying than this. Artaud de Montor, Hist. des Pont. Ant. My ear is full of summer sounds, With summer sights my languid eye; Beyond the dusty village bounds I loiter in my daily rounds, And in the noon-time shadows lie.
Since Serge's return to Les Artaud, the Brother had thus spent most of his evenings at the parsonage; but never before had he imposed his presence upon the other in so rough a fashion.
Never, then, had the country disturbed him, as it did at this hour of night, with its giant bosom, its yielding shadows, its gleams of ambery skin, its lavish goddess-like nudity, scarce hidden by the silvery gauze of moonlight. The young priest lowered his eyes, and gazed upon the village of Les Artaud. It had sunk into the heavy slumber of weariness, the soundness of peasants' sleep.
It's a shame to allow women to rustle their dresses so near the holy relics. The Abbe made an apologetic gesture. He had only been at Les Artaud a little while, he must follow the customs. 'Whenever you like, Monsieur le Cure, we're ready! now called out La Teuse. But Brother Archangias detained him a minute. 'I am off, he said.
'I am as tall as the trees; all the leaves that fall are kisses, replied the voice now mellowed by distance, so musical, so merged into the rippling whispers of the park, that the young priest was thrilled. The road grew better. On coming down the slope Les Artaud reappeared in the midst of the scorched plain.
Few garden flowers grew on the rocks of Les Artaud, so the custom was to decorate the Lady altar with a greenery which might last throughout the month of May. Thereto La Teuse would add a few wallflowers whose stems were thrust into old decanters. 'Will you let me do it, Monsieur le Cure? she asked. 'You are not used to it Come, stand there in front of the altar.
'What a hole this village is! she grumbled. 'Not a hundred and fifty people in it! There are days, like to-day, when you wouldn't find a living soul in Les Artaud. Even the babies in swaddling clothes are gone to the vineyards! And goodness knows what they do among such vines vines that grow under the pebbles and look as dry as thistles! A perfect wilderness, three miles from any highway!
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