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Updated: April 30, 2025
That would be well worth the two thousand francs that had been demanded of the church administration. Theodule Sabot could not sleep for thinking about it. Never, in all the memory of man, had a country carpenter undertaken a similar piece of work.
Bettina makes a desperate effort, abandons her umbrella, finds her little sabot, fastens it on as well as she can, and starts off running, with a deluge descending on her head. At last, she is in the wood, the trees protect her a little. Another blast, nearer this time. Bettina fancies she hears the rolling of the gun-carriages.
From the moment you pay, without anyone seeing or knowing you, no one can get you into trouble." The cure did not insist, and gave him absolution. Theodule Sabot did the work on the chancel, and goes to communion every month. Quartermaster Varajou had obtained a week's leave to go and visit his sister, Madame Padoie.
She had a hand as small and plump as a baby's, and a pretty foot which, to the disgust of some mothers and maidens of greater degree, was encased in a red French slipper, instead of the wooden sabot stuffed with straw, while her ankles were nicely dressed in soft black stockings, in place of the woolen native hose, as became her station.
Bettina makes a desperate effort, abandons her umbrella, finds her little sabot, fastens it on as well as she can, and starts off running, with a deluge descending on her head. At last, she is in the wood, the trees protect her a little. Another blast, nearer this time. Bettina fancies she hears the rolling of the gun-carriages.
Sabot felt ill at ease in there, as though he were in the house of his greatest enemy, but the greed of gain was gnawing at his heart. He drew nearer, holding his cap in his hand, and not paying any attention to the "demoiselles de la Vierge," who remained standing startled, astonished, motionless on their chairs. He faltered: "Good morning, monsieur le cure."
The carpenter felt he was growing pale, and without replying, he asked: "And the benches, are they going to be renovated?" The abbe replied with confidence: "Yes, but later on." Sabot resumed: "I do not say, I do not say. I am not calling it off, I am consenting to religion, for sure. But what rubs me the wrong way is, putting it in practice; but in this case I will not be refractory."
The priest replied without looking at him, all occupied as he was with the altar: "Good morning, Mr. Carpenter." Sabot, nonplussed, knew not what to say next. But after a pause he remarked: "You are making preparations?" Abbe Maritime replied: "Yes, we are near the month of Mary." "Why, why," remarked Sabot and then was silent.
"Did you ever desire, or live with, any other woman than your wife?" Sabot exclaimed with sincerity: "As to that, no; oh, as to that, no, m'sieu le Cure. My poor wife, deceive her! No, no! Not so much as the tip of a finger, either in thought or in act. That is the truth."
Then the priest turned round and looking him straight in the eyes, said: "Do you mean the repairs in the chancel of my church?" At the tone of the abbe, Theodule Sabot felt a chill run down his back and he once more had a longing to take to his heels. However, he replied humbly: "Why, yes, monsieur le cure."
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