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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Well, our friend, are you dreaming?" said Madame Bavoil, tapping him on the shoulder. "This Carmelite convent you see is a very austere house," said she, "and as you may suppose, grace abounds;" and when Durtal murmured, "What a contrast between this dead spot and the railway that runs past it, always in a stir!" she exclaimed,
He was silent; then, changing the subject, he said, "And do you still hold communion with Heaven, Madame Bavoil?" "No," she answered, sadly. "I no longer have any converse or any visions. I am deaf and blind. God is silent to me." She shook her head, and, after a pause, she added, speaking to herself, "Such a little thing is enough to displease Him.
Why, what is this vegetable?" he inquired, as he tasted a curious stew of greens. "Dandelions cut up and boiled with shreds of bacon," replied Madame Bavoil. "Do you like the dish, our friend?" "Indeed I do. Your dandelions are to garden spinach and chicory what the wild duck is to the tame, or the hare to the rabbit.
"At any rate," said Durtal, "it would be vain to erect a chapel to him, since it would always be empty; no one would come to entreat him, poor saint! for the essential mark of an idiot is not to think himself one!" "A saint out of work!" remarked Madame Bavoil. "And who is not likely to find any," said Durtal, as he left them.
He can give all the introductions you can wish to that convent." "Good; that is worth thinking about. I will consult the Abbé," said Durtal, rising to take leave of the old priest. "The Black Dog is troubling you, our friend," observed Madame Bavoil, who had overheard the two men's conversation from the next room, the door between being open; and she came in, her breviary in her hand.
The Abbé Plomb, in a mood for teasing, gave his spectacles a push, settling the arch above his nose, and rubbing his hands, remarked, very seriously, "Madame Bavoil, flowers and vegetables are but of trivial importance from the decorative and culinary point of view; the only rule that should guide you in your selection is the symbolical meaning, the virtues and vices ascribed to plants.
They are sealed against every generous idea, regarding the intercourse they hold with the Redeemer as beseeming their rank and in good style; but they never seek to know Him more nearly, and restrict themselves, of deliberate purpose, to calls of politeness." "Such visits as we pay to an aged parent on New Year's Day," said Durtal. "No, at Easter," corrected Madame Bavoil.
Your Chartres will no doubt smell like that Pah!" "Oh, oh!" cried Madame Bavoil. "But you cannot know much about it, since you have never been to the place." "Let him be!" said the Abbé, laughing. "He will get over his prejudices." And he went on,
Why, he is poorer than you or I!" "But then Chartres is the fag end of Church preferment, a mere raft for the shipwrecked and starving." "Thou hast said! Bishop, canons, priests, everybody here is poverty-stricken." The bell rang, and Madame Bavoil showed in the Abbé Plomb. Durtal recognized him.
"But She does not often choose to exert here, I believe; this cathedral mirrors rather Her inexhaustible sweetness, Her indivisible glory." "Ah! Much shall be forgiven you because you have loved much," cried Madame Bavoil. And Durtal having risen to say good-bye, she kissed him affectionately, maternally, and said,
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