It was about this time that Julien thought he could exploit, for the benefit of his own reputation, his knowledge of De Maistre's book on the Pope.
In point of fact, he did astonish his comrades, but it was only another misfortune.
He displeased them by expounding their own opinions better than they could themselves.
Chelan had acted as imprudently for Julien as he had for himself.
He had given him the habit of reasoning correctly, and of not being put off by empty words, but he had neglected to tell him that this habit was a crime in the person of no importance, since every piece of logical reasoning is offensive.
Julien's command of language added consequently a new crime to his score.
By dint of thinking about him, his colleagues succeeded in expressing the horror with which he would inspire them by a single expression; they nicknamed him Martin Luther, "particularly," they said, "because of that infernal logic which makes him so proud."
Several young seminarists had a fresher complexion than Julien, and could pass as better-looking, but he had white hands, and was unable to conceal certain refined habits of personal cleanliness.
This advantage proved a disadvantage in the gloomy house in which chance had cast him.
The dirty peasants among whom he lived asserted that he had very abandoned morals.
We fear that we may weary our reader by a narration of the thousand and one misfortunes of our hero.
The most vigorous of his comrades, for example, wanted to start the custom of beating him. He was obliged to arm himself with an iron compass, and to indicate, though by signs, that he would make use of it.
Signs cannot figure in a spy's report to such good advantage as words. _____
CHAPTER XXVIII
A PROCESSION _____
All hearts were moved.
The presence of God seemed to have descended into these narrow Gothic streets that stretched in every direction, and were sanded by the care of the faithful.—Young. _____
It was in vain that Julien pretended to be petty and stupid. He could not please; he was too different.
Yet all these professors, he said to himself, are very clever people, men in a thousand.
Why do they not like my humility?
Only one seemed to take advantage of his readiness to believe everything, and apparently to swallow everything.
This was the abbe Chas-Bernard, the director of the ceremonies of the cathedral, where, for the last fifteen years, he had been given occasion to hope for a canonry. While waiting, he taught homiletics at the seminary.
During the period of Julien's blindness, this class was one of those in which he most frequently came out top.
The abbe Chas had used this as an opportunity to manifest some friendship to him, and when the class broke up, he would be glad to take him by the arm for some turns in the garden.
"What is he getting at," Julien would say to himself.
He noticed with astonishment that, for hours on end, the abbe would talk to him about the ornaments possessed by the cathedral.
It had seventeen lace chasubles, besides the mourning vestments.
A lot was hoped from the old wife of the judge de Rubempre. This lady, who was ninety years of age, had kept for at least seventy years her wedding dress of superb Lyons material, embroidered with gold.
"Imagine, my friend," the abbe Chas would say, stopping abruptly, and staring with amazement, "that this material keeps quite stiff. There is so much gold in it.
It is generally thought in Besancon that the will of the judge's wife will result in the cathedral treasure being increased by more than ten chasubles, without counting four or five capes for the great feast.
I will go further," said the abbe Chas, lowering his voice,
"I have reasons for thinking the judge's wife will leave us her magnificent silver gilt candlesticks, supposed to have been bought in Italy by Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, whose favourite minister was one of the good lady's ancestors."
"But what is the fellow getting at with all this old clothes business," thought Julien.
"These adroit preliminaries have been going on for centuries, and nothing comes of them.
He must be very suspicious of me.
He is cleverer than all the others, whose secret aim can be guessed so easily in a fortnight.
I understand. He must have been suffering for fifteen years from mortified ambition."
Julien was summoned one evening in the middle of the fencing lesson to the abbe Pirard, who said to him.
"To-morrow is the feast of Corpus Domini (the Fete Dieu) the abbe Chas-Bernard needs you to help him to decorate the cathedral. Go and obey."
The abbe Pirard called him back and added sympathetically.
"It depends on you whether you will utilise the occasion to go into the town."
"Incedo per ignes," answered Julien. (I have secret enemies).
Julien went to the cathedral next morning with downcast eyes.
The sight of the streets and the activity which was beginning to prevail in the town did him good.
In all quarters they were extending the fronts of the houses for the procession.
All the time that he had passed in the seminary seemed to him no more than a moment.
His thoughts were of Vergy, and of the pretty Amanda whom he might perhaps meet, for her cafe was not very far off.
He saw in the distance the abbe Chas-Bernard on the threshold of his beloved cathedral.
He was a big man with a jovial face and a frank air.
To-day he looked triumphant.