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Updated: June 3, 2025
Tournier was a gentleman, and therefore repressed the exclamation that was rising to his lips, and simply said, "Oh!" in a very languid sort of way. But it was true. The chaplain to the prisoners had been asking after Tournier, expressing a very great desire to see him; and the Chaplain was none other than the Bishop of Moulines.
"Well," said Tournier, greatly interested, and looking round with admiration on the noble building, with its beautiful windows and four fine chapels, "if my village church in France were anything like this, I would take a pride in doing my utmost to preserve and beautify it. It is a glorious gift. But, excuse me, my dear friend, it does not look cared for."
It was a pretty sight, and as Tournier drove away amid their joyful greetings, he could not help for the moment envying him, and contrasting the scene with that which was awaiting himself, with only one welcome only one but then that was the welcome of a mother! He had to pass a well-known house; but as he drew near, he dashed down the blind, and turned away fiercely, till it was passed.
Tournier took no more notice of her than any gentleman would naturally do to the lady of the house at a party of four. Almost all his conversation was addressed to Cosin, and consisted chiefly of references to happy days gone by, during their intercourse with each other. Each allusion ended with a sort of sigh, as if to say, "Ah, there will be no more of that now!"
From his mother's letters he could not hide from himself the fact that his absence from her, under such melancholy circumstances, was prejudicially affecting her health. The dear old soul always tried to make the best of it, but nature would out, although it was more from indirect remarks than from any positive complaints, that Tournier gathered the true state of the case.
Perhaps you do not know the meaning of the word." The nose went down, and the temper went up. "I do, sir, quite as much as you. But I don't call truckling to the enemy honour." "Nor do I," said Tournier. The perfect quietness of his manner provoked the other more than any angry words would have done. "But that's what you are doing truckling to the English." The malcontents applauded.
Tournier stoutly, but in the most respectful language, refused to comply, and the bishop refused to grant him absolution. But Tournier was most unhappy. Let those who remonstrate with another, apparently in vain, remember to their comfort, that oftentimes the remonstrance has not been entirely thrown away. The first blow of the hammer does not drive home the nail, but it begins to do so.
He died Feb. 23, 1813, aged 53 years." When all was over, Tournier remained behind to view the sacred edifice with his friend Cosin. "What a magnificent church," he exclaimed, after he had looked round. "Why, it is a small cathedral! Are all your parish churches like this?" "No," said Cosin, smiling, "this is the finest in the neighbourhood." "Oh, that is where we sit and worship." "How droll!"
Next morning he went to the barracks, and sent in his name to the commandant, asking for an interview. Major Kelly looked surprised; it was not the usual way of approach. "I am very sorry, sir," said Tournier, "to trouble you in this irregular way; but the fact is, I am in great perplexity as to what I ought to do, and could not explain myself first to anyone else."
"Then your brother has actually suffered what I am only dreading I may have to suffer. He can never, by any possibility, see his wife again." Poor Alice was sorely puzzled. She could only wonder what he was coming to, and acquiesce. "But was he really fond of her?" "I cannot imagine, Captain Tournier, why you should ask such a question. I am glad you did not ask him."
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