A Simple Soul | Page 8

latter on the left-hand side
of the church, filled the stalls of the choir; the priest stood beside the
reading-desk; on one stained window of the side-aisle the Holy Ghost
hovered over the Virgin; on another one, Mary knelt before the Child
Jesus, and behind the alter, a wooden group represented Saint Michael
felling the dragon.
The priest first read a condensed lesson of sacred history. Felicite
evoked Paradise, the Flood, the Tower of Babel, the blazing cities, the
dying nations, the shattered idols; and out of this she developed a great
respect for the Almighty and a great fear of His wrath. Then, when she
had listened to the Passion, she wept. Why had they crucified Him who
loved little children, nourished the people, made the blind see, and who,
out of humility, had wished to be born among the poor, in a stable? The
sowings, the harvests, the wine-presses, all those familiar things which
the Scriptures mention, formed a part of her life; the word of God
sanctified them; and she loved the lambs with increased tenderness for
the sake of the Lamb, and the doves because of the Holy Ghost.
She found it hard, however, to think of the latter as a person, for was it

not a bird, a flame, and sometimes only a breath? Perhaps it is its light
that at night hovers over swamps, its breath that propels the clouds, its
voice that renders church-bells harmonious. And Felicite worshipped
devoutly, while enjoying the coolness and the stillness of the church.
As for the dogma, she could not understand it and did not even try. The
priest discoursed, the children recited, and she went to sleep, only to
awaken with a start when they were leaving the church and their
wooden shoes clattered on the stone pavement.
In this way, she learned her catechism, her religious education having
been neglected in her youth; and thenceforth she imitated all Virginia's
religious practices, fasted when she did, and went to confession with
her. At the Corpus-Christi Day they both decorated an altar.
She worried in advance over Virginia's first communion. She fussed
about the shoes, the rosary, the book and the gloves. With what
nervousness she helped the mother dress the child!
During the entire ceremony, she felt anguished. Monsieur Bourais hid
part of the choir from view, but directly in front of her, the flock of
maidens, wearing white wreaths over their lowered veils, formed a
snow-white field, and she recognised her darling by the slenderness of
her neck and her devout attitude. The bell tinkled. All the heads bent
and there was a silence. Then, at the peals of the organ the singers and
the worshippers struck up the Agnes Dei; the boys' procession began;
behind them came the girls. With clasped hands, they advanced step by
step to the lighted altar, knelt at the first step, received one by one the
Host, and returned to their seats in the same order. When Virginia's turn
came, Felicite leaned forward to watch her, and through that
imagination which springs from true affection, she at once became the
child, whose face and dress became hers, whose heart beat in her
bosom, and when Virginia opened her mouth and closed her lids, she
did likewise and came very near fainting.
The following day, she presented herself early at the church so as to
receive communion from the cure. She took it with the proper feeling,
but did not experience the same delight as on the previous day.

Madame Aubain wished to make an accomplished girl of her daughter;
and as Guyot could not teach English or music, she decided to send her
to the Ursulines at Honfleur.
The child made no objection, but Felicite sighed and thought Madame
was heartless. Then, she thought that perhaps her mistress was right, as
these things were beyond her sphere. Finally, one day, an old fiacre
stopped in front of the door and a nun stepped out. Felicite put
Virginia's luggage on top of the carriage, gave the coachman some
instructions, and smuggled six jars of jam, a dozen pears and a bunch
of violets under the seat.
At the last minute, Virginia had a fit of sobbing; she embraced her
mother again and again, while the latter kissed her on the forehead, and
said: "Now, be brave, be brave!" The step was pulled up and the fiacre
rumbled off.
Then Madame Aubain had a fainting spell, and that evening all her
friends, including the two Lormeaus, Madame Lechaptois, the ladies
Rochefeuille, Messieurs de Houppeville and Bourais, called on her and
tendered their sympathy.
At first the separation proved very painful to her. But her daughter
wrote her three times a week and the other days she, herself, wrote to
Virginia. Then she walked