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Updated: May 27, 2025
He seated himself, a few yards away, on the body of an overturned cart, where he waited for the Abbe with dog-like patience. 'Ah! here is Monsieur le Cure! cried all the company of Bambousses and Brichets as Serge entered. They filled their glasses once more. Abbe Mouret was compelled to take one, too.
There was the mayor, Bambousse, returning from Les Olivettes, calculating how much the approaching vintage would yield him; there were the Brichets, the husband crawling along, and the wife moaning with misery. There was Rosalie flirting with big Fortune behind a wall.
'Oh, that's it, is it? muttered the old man, with a bantering look. 'Many thanks for the message. The Brichets sent you, didn't they? Mother Brichet goes to mass, and so you give her a helping hand to marry her son it's all very fine. But, I've got nothing to do with that. It doesn't suit me. That's all.
Unless an angel comes down to serve your mass, your reverence, you've only got me to help you, on my honour! or one of Mademoiselle Desiree's rabbits, no offence to your reverence! Just at that moment, however, Vincent, the Brichets' younger son, gently opened the door of the sacristy. His shock of red hair and his little, glistening, grey eyes exasperated La Teuse. 'Oh! the wretch! she cried.
And as he lingered at table she sat down opposite him and repeated gently, like a woman tortured by curiosity: 'Where have you been, Monsieur le Cure? 'Well, he answered with a smile, 'I have seen the Brichets, I have spoken to Bambousse. Thereupon he had to relate to her what the Brichets had said, what Bambousse had decided, and how they looked, and where they were at work.
I am just on my way to see old Bambousse to speak to him about it; it is desirable that they should be married as soon as possible. The child's father, it seems, is Fortune, the Brichets' eldest son. Unfortunately the Brichets are poor. 'That Rosalie, now, continued the Brother, 'is just eighteen. Not four years since I still had her under me at school, and she was already a gadabout.
Abbe Mouret then said that he would be back about eleven for luncheon, and as he started, La Teuse, who had followed him to the doorstep, shouted after him her last injunctions. 'Don't forget to see Brother Archangias. And look in also at the Brichets'; the wife came again yesterday about that wedding. Just listen, Monsieur le Cure! I met their Rosalie.
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