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In a couple of days at the latest, I shall be on my way back;" and this had made the worthy Ridoux quite happy. They were alone in the coupé, and could converse at their ease. Look at this lovely country, that valley, those little hills, and away there the large woods, and do you not think that I shall feel some regret at leaving this part?
I congratulate you, sir, she said, perplexed and disturbed. Are you nominated to a better cure? Does Monseigneur give notice of his visit? Better than that, Veronica. My excellent and worthy uncle, the Abbé Ridoux, gives notice of his. Monsieur le Curé of Saint Nicholas? Himself. Do you know him? Certainly. Ah, he has a fine church, it appears, and a famous saint is buried there.
He dressed with the prudent delays of a man who says to himself: Let us see, let us consider carefully what we must do. You don't look satisfied, resumed Ridoux; I bring you honour, fortune and success, and you look sulky. Honour, fortune and success. Those are very fine words! It is with fine words that we do fine things, and one of them is, it appears, to unmoor you from this place.
Thus Monsieur Ridoux lorded it amongst his curates, younger, handsomer, fresher, more tasty than himself, and eclipsed them by all the brilliancy of his good-sense, his tact, and his experience. He had certainly his little failings!... Who can say that he is exempt from them? But his mind was sound. A good companion, besides, and of a cheerful disposition.
Vincent Voiture, who had, as he confessed himself, the silly face of a dreaming sheep, used to say that nature usually likes to place the most precious souls in ill-favoured, puny bodies, as jewellers set the richest diamonds in a small quantity of gold. Accordingly, the pitiful wrapper of the Abbé Ridoux covered an excellent soul.
"Devotion is the sole resource of coquettes: when they are become old, God becomes the last resource of all women who know not aught else to do." As his uncle had foreseen, the young Curé pleased the old lady greatly. She examined him with satisfaction and predicted that he would make his way. You have not deceived me, she said to Ridoux, here is a priest such as we require.
I suppose, said Ridoux severely, that when the interest of religion is in question, there is no reason to hesitate. Madame la Comtesse, pardon this young priest, he comes out from his village and he is still imbued with certain prejudices. Which we will root out, said the old lady smiling; that shall be the task for us women.
You will succeed, my dear fellow, you will succeed. Oh, oh, you are a master. A gray-beard like I cannot teach you anything. Jesus, Mary, Joseph! That is my nephew! My dear old Ridoux, Curé of St. Nicholas, allow me to congratulate you. Monsieur le Curé of Althausen, I swear you will become a bishop. Monseigneur, I drink your health!
Or perhaps miraculous properties are like all other faculties, as they grow old they become worn-out, and an elect who has stoutly brought the dead to life when he was only an aspirant for honours, is now only capable of curing the ringworm. But, as I have said, it was a zealous candidate that the Abbé Ridoux had in his church.
But one fine morning, on coming out from Mass, his countenance lit up, he uttered a cry of joy and fell into the arms of Abbé Ridoux.
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