The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [139]
“A rondeau!” the Jesuit said contemptuously.
“A rondeau!” the Curé repeated mechanically.
“Do let us hear it, my dear Aramis!” D’Artagnan begged, welcoming an opportunity to take part in the discussion. “It will at least clear the air a bit!”
“I fear not, D’Artagnan, for it is a highly religious piece; it is theology expressed in verse.”
“The devil you say, Aramis!”
“Well, anyhow, here it is, since you asked for it,” Aramis said with a diffidence not exempt of a shade of hypocrisy. And he read:
Vous qui pleurez un passé plein de charmes
Et qui traînez des jours infortunés,
Tous vos malheurs se verront terminés
Quand à Dieu seul vous offrirez vos larmes—
Vous qui pleurez!
All ye who weep for dulcet pleasures past,
Your lives unfortunate and unbefriended,
Soon shall your chronicle of woe be ended
When that God greets your proferred tears at last,
All ye who weep!
D’Artagnan and the Curé evinced a certain satisfaction at the recitation but the Jesuit persisted in his opinion:
“Beware of a profane taste in theological style,” he warned. “Remember Saint Augustine’s dictum: Severus sit clericorum sermo, let the preacher speak strictly to the point.”
“Ay, let the sermon be clear!” the Curé approved.
“And,” the Jesuit hastened on, aware that his acolyte misunderstood his Latin, “I am sure your thesis will please the ladies. I foresee the sort of success Maître Patru obtains when he pleads a cause in the law courts to the delight of an audience of sighing women.”
“Please God you speak true,” cried Aramis delighted.
“There, you see,” the Jesuit scolded, “the world still speaks through you, altissima voce, loud as it can. You follow the world, my young friend, and I much fear Grace has not visited you.”
“Rest easy, Father, I can answer for myself.”
“With all the arrogance of worldly presumption!”
“I know what I am about, Father; I have made up my mind!”
“Yet you persist in supporting that thesis, my son?”
“I feel called upon to support that thesis and no other. I shall therefore continue to work on it tomorrow, Father, and I hope you will be satisfied with the corrections I shall bring to it, thanks to your advice.”
“Work slowly and diligently,” the Curé counseled. “I am sure we are leaving you in the best possible frame of mind to carry you successfully along the path you have chosen.”
“Yes, the ground of the Lord is richly sown,” said the Jesuit. “We need not fear lest one portion of the seed fall upon stone or another upon the highway nor lest the birds of Heaven have eaten of the rest, aves coeli comederant illam!”
D’Artagnan, at the end of his tether, muttered: “God choke, stifle and plague you with your Latin!”
“Farewell, my son,” said the Curé. “I shall come back tomorrow.”
“Farewell until tomorrow, my rash young friend,” said the Jesuit. “You give promise of becoming a light of the Church; God grant that this light prove not to be a consuming fire.”
For over an hour D’Artagnan had been gnawing furiously at his nails; now he was down to the quick. The two men in black rose stiffly, bowed ceremoniously to Aramis and D’Artagnan, and moved toward the door. Bazin, who had been standing by, overhearing the entire controversy with pious jubilation, sped forward toward them, picked up the breviary the Curé had left on a chair and the missal the Jesuit had forgotten, and ushered the clerics out with much respectful consideration. Aramis accompanied his guests to the foot of the stairs, then rejoined D’Artagnan who was still lost in thought.
Left alone at last the two friends were lost in an embarrassed silence; one or the other must perforce break it and D’Artagnan appeared set upon leaving this honor to his comrade. Aramis therefore broke the ice.
“As you see,” he volunteered, “I have reverted to my original ideas.”
“So I perceive, Aramis; Grace has indeed visited you in all its power,