Abbe Mouret's Transgression

he roof tiles. The sunlit ruin was steeped in happy quietude. When the doctor had opened the gate of the narrow garden, which was enclosed by a lofty quickset hed

you humbug?' exclaimed

you?' growled the old man harshly.

priest, and assumed so threatening an expre

good fellow, too. Devil take it, we haven't been bowling ove

calmed dow

ake one croak. Mind, doctor, no priests, and no physics when I go off

itaire, with scorched, brick-tinted face, and limbs all withered and twisted like a bundle of ropes, who seemed to bear the burden

fool of a peasant who disturbed you? The doctor here, and the priest as well, why not the mutes

e brought out into the shade. Then, having filled the glasses to the brim, he

y word, however, this is the first time I ever clinked a glass with a cassock, but no offen

pledged himself that he would prove to me that God exists. So, whenever I me

st!' cried Abbe Mouret,

re some thousands of books in one of the rooms upstairs, which were rescued from the fire at the Paradou: all the philosophers of the eighteenth century, a whole heap of old

to the earth and to the sky, and repeating solemnly: 'There's nothing,

was curiously observing the old man and nodding approvingly in order

th forgot me; and I had to make myself a burrow. If one lives all alone, look you, one gets to see things in rather a queer fashion. The trees are no longer trees, the earth puts on the ways of a living being, the stones seem to tell you tales. A parcel of rubbish, eh? But I know some secrets that would fairly stagger you. Be

orizon and added: 'You hear, nothing

al began

a deceiver. I suspect you are in love, in spite of your affectation of bei

was stupid enough to love all sorts of things I came across in that huge liar, the country. Fortunately, the old volumes have killed all that. I only wis

rounds in the park?

might break one's neck at every step. The last time I went in there, it was so dark under the trees, there was such a stink of wild flowers, and such queer breezes blew along the paths, that I felt almost afraid. So I have shut myself up to prevent the park coming in here. A patch of sunlight, three

o call out to Abbe Mouret: 'Come, just another glass, your reveren

s stories vaguely floated in his memory. He rose, making a sign to the doctor that he wished to leave this house, where he seemed to inhale an odour of damnation. But, in spite of his covert fears, a strange feeling of curiosity made him linger. He simply walked to the end of the garden, throwing a searching glance into

well?' asked the doct

never here. She often disappears all day lo

of his shoulders, he added: 'Yes, my word, she is a nice hussy....

great depth of woodland, beneath a flood of sunbeams. In that sudden blaze of light the priest distinctly perceived certain far-away things: a large yellow flower in the middle of a lawn, a sheet of water falling from a lofty rock, a colossal tre

Jeanbernat, 'she was

ike some gipsy in holiday garb. And she went on laughing, her head thrown back, her bosom swelling with mirth, delighted with her flowers, wild flowers which sh

'You smell of weeds enough to poison one-wo

ughed still more heartily. Doctor Pascal,

rightened in the

walls are too high, no one can get in. There's only myself. It is my garden,

ls?' interrupt

hey don't hurt; the

ery dark und

, the sun would burn my face up. It is ver

ad smiled at Abbe Mouret without trace of shyness, without heed of the astonished look with which he observed her. The priest had stepped aside. That fair-haired ma

ird nestlings; would you like

hould give them to the Cure's sister; she i

r, had fastene

ave a sister? I'll go and see her. Only you must no

shower of flowers behind her, she disappeared. The slam of a door was heard, and from behind the house came bursts

eeping in the Paradou,' muttere

one of these fine days, doctor, just do me the favour of pitching me

med once more its aspect of happy peacefulness in the noonday sunlight, amidst