I am at ease, because I know that if anything were to happen to him, it would be the end of me.
I should go to the good God with my brother and my bishop.
It has cost Madam Magloire more trouble than it did me to accustom herself to what she terms his imprudences.
But now the habit has been acquired.
We pray together, we tremble together, and we fall asleep.
If the devil were to enter this house, he would be allowed to do so.
After all, what is there for us to fear in this house?
There is always some one with us who is stronger than we.
The devil may pass through it, but the good God dwells here.
This suffices me.
My brother has no longer any need of saying a word to me.
I understand him without his speaking, and we abandon ourselves to the care of Providence.
That is the way one has to do with a man who possesses grandeur of soul.
I have interrogated my brother with regard to the information which you desire on the subject of the Faux family.
You are aware that he knows everything, and that he has memories, because he is still a very good royalist.
They really are a very ancient Norman family of the generalship of Caen.
Five hundred years ago there was a Raoul de Faux, a Jean de Faux, and a Thomas de Faux, who were gentlemen, and one of whom was a seigneur de Rochefort.
The last was Guy-Etienne-Alexandre, and was commander of a regiment, and something in the light horse of Bretagne.
His daughter, Marie-Louise, married Adrien-Charles de Gramont, son of the Duke Louis de Gramont, peer of France, colonel of the French guards, and lieutenant-general of the army.
It is written Faux, Fauq, and Faoucq.
Good Madame, recommend us to the prayers of your sainted relative, Monsieur the Cardinal.
As for your dear Sylvanie, she has done well in not wasting the few moments which she passes with you in writing to me.
She is well, works as you would wish, and loves me.
That is all that I desire.
The souvenir which she sent through you reached me safely, and it makes me very happy.
My health is not so very bad, and yet I grow thinner every day.
Farewell; my paper is at an end, and this forces me to leave you.
A thousand good wishes.
BAPTISTINE.
P.S.
Your grand nephew is charming.
Do you know that he will soon be five years old?
Yesterday he saw some one riding by on horseback who had on knee-caps, and he said,
“What has he got on his knees?”
He is a charming child!
His little brother is dragging an old broom about the room, like a carriage, and saying,
“Hu!”
As will be perceived from this letter, these two women understood how to mould themselves to the Bishop’s ways with that special feminine genius which comprehends the man better than he comprehends himself.
The Bishop of D——, in spite of the gentle and candid air which never deserted him, sometimes did things that were grand, bold, and magnificent, without seeming to have even a suspicion of the fact.
They trembled, but they let him alone.
Sometimes Madame Magloire essayed a remonstrance in advance, but never at the time, nor afterwards.
They never interfered with him by so much as a word or sign, in any action once entered upon.
At certain moments, without his having occasion to mention it, when he was not even conscious of it himself in all probability, so perfect was his simplicity, they vaguely felt that he was acting as a bishop; then they were nothing more than two shadows in the house.
They served him passively; and if obedience consisted in disappearing, they disappeared.
They understood, with an admirable delicacy of instinct, that certain cares may be put under constraint.
Thus, even when believing him to be in peril, they understood, I will not say his thought, but his nature, to such a degree that they no longer watched over him. They confided him to God.
Moreover, Baptistine said, as we have just read, that her brother’s end would prove her own. Madame Magloire did not say this, but she knew it.
CHAPTER X—THE BISHOP IN THE PRESENCE OF AN UNKNOWN LIGHT
At an epoch a little later than the date of the letter cited in the preceding pages, he did a thing which, if the whole town was to be believed, was even more hazardous than his trip across the mountains infested with bandits.
In the country near D—— a man lived quite alone.