the vicar of tours-第2部分

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course　of　two　years　the　liberality　of　devout　persons；　and　legacies；

though　small　ones；　from　pious　penitents；　filled　the　shelves　of　the

bookcase；　till　then　half　empty。　Moreover；　Chapeloud's　uncle；　an　old

Oratorian；　had　left　him　his　collection　in　folio　of　the　Fathers　of　the

Church；　and　several　other　important　works　that　were　precious　to　a

priest。



Birotteau；　more　and　more　surprised　by　the　successive　improvements　of

the　gallery；　once　so　bare；　came　by　degrees　to　a　condition　of

involuntary　envy。　He　wished　he　could　possess　that　apartment；　so

thoroughly　in　keeping　with　the　gravity　of　ecclestiastical　life。　The

passion　increased　from　day　to　day。　Working；　sometimes　for　days

together；　in　this　retreat；　the　vicar　could　appreciate　the　silence　and

the　peace　that　reigned　there。　During　the　following　year　the　Abbe

Chapeloud　turned　a　small　room　into　an　oratory；　which　his　pious　friends

took　pleasure　in　beautifying。　Still　later；　another　lady　gave　the　canon

a　set　of　furniture　for　his　bedroom；　the　covering　of　which　she　had

embroidered　under　the　eyes　of　the　worthy　man　without　his　ever

suspecting　its　destination。　The　bedroom　then　had　the　same　effect　upon

the　vicar　that　the　gallery　had　long　had；　it　dazzled　him。　Lastly；　about

three　years　before　the　Abbe　Chapeloud's　death；　he　completed　the

comfort　of　his　apartment　by　decorating　the　salon。　Though　the　furniture

was　plainly　covered　in　red　Utrecht　velvet；　it　fascinated　Birotteau。

From　the　day　when　the　canon's　friend　first　laid　eyes　on　the　red　damask

curtains；　the　mahogany　furniture；　the　Aubusson　carpet　which　adorned

the　vast　room；　then　lately　painted；　his　envy　of　Chapeloud's　apartment

became　a　monomania　hidden　within　his　breast。　To　live　there；　to　sleep

in　that　bed　with　the　silk　curtains　where　the　canon　slept；　to　have　all

Chapeloud's　comforts　about　him；　would　be；　Birotteau　felt；　complete

happiness；　he　saw　nothing　beyond　it。　All　the　envy；　all　the　ambition

which　the　things　of　this　world　give　birth　to　in　the　hearts　of　other

men　concentrated　themelves　for　Birotteau　in　the　deep　and　secret

longing　he　felt　for　an　apartment　like　that　which　the　Abbe　Chapeloud

had　created　for　himself。　When　his　friend　fell　ill　he　went　to　him　out

of　true　affection；　but　all　the　same；　when　he　first　heard　of　his

illness；　and　when　he　sat　by　his　bed　to　keep　him　company；　there　arose

in　the　depths　of　his　consciousness；　in　spite　of　himself；　a　crowd　of

thoughts　the　simple　formula　of　which　was　always；　〃If　Chapeloud　dies　I

can　have　this　apartment。〃　And　yetBirotteau　having　an　excellent

heart；　contracted　ideas；　and　a　limited　mindhe　did　not　go　so　far　as

to　think　of　means　by　which　to　make　his　friend　bequeath　to　him　the

library　and　the　furniture。



The　Abbe　Chapeloud；　an　amiable；　indulgent　egoist；　fathomed　his

friend's　desiresnot　a　difficult　thing　to　doand　forgave　them；　which

may　seem　less　easy　to　a　priest；　but　it　must　be　remembered　that　the

vicar；　whose　friendship　was　faithful；　did　not　fail　to　take　a　daily

walk　with　his　friend　along　their　usual　path　in　the　Mail　de　Tours；

never　once　depriving　him　of　an　instant　of　the　time　devoted　for　over

twenty　years　to　that　exercise。　Birotteau；　who　regarded　his　secret

wishes　as　crimes；　would　have　been　capable；　out　of　contrition；　of　the

utmost　devotion　to　his　friend。　The　latter　paid　his　debt　of　gratitude

for　a　friendship　so　ingenuously　sincere　by　saying；　a　few　days　before

his　death；　as　the　vicar　sat　by　him　reading　the　〃Quotidienne〃　aloud：

〃This　time　you　will　certainly　get　the　apartment。　I　feel　it　is　all　over

with　me　now。〃



Accordingly；　it　was　found　that　the　Abbe　Chapeloud　had　left　his　library

and　all　his　furniture　to　his　friend　Birotteau。　The　possession　of　these

things；　so　keenly　desired；　and　the　prospect　of　being　taken　to　board　by

Mademoiselle　Gamard；　certainly　did　allay　the　grief　which　Birotteau

felt　at　the　death　of　his　friend　the　canon。　He　might　not　have　been

willing　to　resuscitate　him；　but　he　mourned　him。　For　several　days　he

was　like　Gargantus；　who；　when　his　wife　died　in　giving　birth　to

Pantagruel；　did　not　know　whether　to　rejoice　at　the　birth　of　a　son　or

grieve　at　having　buried　his　good　Babette；　and　therefore　cheated

himself　by　rejoicing　at　the　death　of　his　wife；　and　deploring　the

advent　of　Pantagruel。



The　Abbe　Birotteau　spent　the　first　days　of　his　mourning　in　verifying

the　books　in　HIS　library；　in　making　use　of　HIS　furniture；　in　examining

the　whole　of　his　inheritance；　saying　in　a　tone　which；　unfortunately；

was　not　noted　at　the　time；　〃Poor　Chapeloud！〃　His　joy　and　his　grief　so

completely　absorbed　him　that　he　felt　no　pain　when　he　found　that　the

office　of　canon；　in　which　the　late　Chapeloud　had　hoped　his　friend

Birotteau　might　succeed　him；　was　given　to　another。　Mademoiselle　Gamard

having　cheerfully　agreed　to　take　the　vicar　to　board；　the　latter　was

thenceforth　a　participator　in　all　those　felicities　of　material　comfort

of　which　the　deceased　canon　had　been　wont　to　boast。



Incalculable　they　were！　According　to　the　Abbe　Chapeloud　none　of　the

priests　who　inhabited　the　city　of　Tours；　not　even　the　archbishop；　had

ever　been　the　object　of　such　minute　and　delicate　attentions　as　those

bestowed　by　Mademoiselle　Gamard　on　her　two　lodgers。　The　first　words

the　canon　said　to　his　friend　when　they　met　for　their　walk　on　the　Mail

referred　usually　to　the　succulent　dinner　he　had　just　eaten；　and　it　was

a　very　rare　thing　if　during　the　walks　of　each　week　he　did　not　say　at

least　fourteen　times；　〃That　excellent　spinster　certainly　has　a

vocation　for　serving　ecclesiastics。〃



〃Just　think；〃　the　canon　would　say　to　Birotteau；　〃that　for　twelve

consecutive　years　nothing　has　ever　been　amiss；linen　in　perfect

order；　bands；　albs；　surplices；　I　find　everything　in　its　place；　always

in　sufficient　quantity；　and　smelling　of　orris…root。　My　furniture　is

rubbed　and　kept　so　bright　that　I　don't　know　when　I　have　seen　any　dust

did　you　ever　see　a　speck　of　it　in　my　rooms？　Then　the　firewood　is　so

well　selected。　The　least　little　things　are　excellent。　In　fact；

Mademoiselle　Gamard　keeps　an　incessant　watch　over　my　wants。　I　can't

remember　having　rung　twice　for　anythingno　matter　whatin　ten　years。

That's　what　I　call　living！　I　never　have　to　look　for　a　single　thing；

not　even　my　slippers。　Always　a　good　fire；　always　a　good　dinner。　Once

the　bellows　annoyed　me；　the　nozzle　was　choked　up；　but　I　only　mentioned

it　once；　and　the　next　day　Mademoiselle　gave　me　a　very　pretty　pair；

also　those　nice　tongs　you　see　me　mend　the　fire　with。〃



For　all　answer　Birotteau　would　say；　〃Smelling　of　orris…root！〃　That

〃smelling　of　orris…root〃　always　affected　him。　The　canon's　remarks

revealed　ideal　joys　to　the　poor　vicar；　whose　bands　and　albs　were　the

plague　of　his　life；　for　he　was　totally　devoid　of　method　and　often

forgot　to　order　his　dinner。　Therefore；　if　he　saw　Mademoiselle　Gamard

at　Saint…Gatien　while　saying　mass　or　taking　round　the　plate；　he　never

failed　to　give　her　a　kindly　and　benevolent　look；such　a　look　as　Saint

Teresa　might　have　cast　to　heaven。



Though　the　comforts　which　all　creatures　desire；　and　for　which　he　had

so　often　longed；　thus　fell　to　his　share；　the　Abbe　Birotteau；　like　the

rest　of　the　world；　found　it　difficult；　even　for　a　priest；　to　live

without　something　to　hanker　for。　Consequently；　for　the　last　eighteen

months　he　had　replaced　his　two　satisfied　passions　by　an　ardent　longing

for　a　canonry。　The　title　of　Canon　had　become　to　him　very　much　what　a

peerage　is　to　a　plebeian　minister。　The　prospect　of　an　appointment；

hopes　of　which　had　just　been　held　out　to　him　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；

so　completely　turned　his　head　that　he　did　not　observe　until　he　reached

his　own　door　that　he　had　left　his　umbrella　behind　him。　Perhaps；　even

then；　if　the　rain　were　not　falling　in　torrents　he　might　not　have

missed　it；　so　absorbed　was　he　in　the　pleasure　of　going　over　and　over

in　his　mind　what　had　been　said　to　him　on　the　subject　of　his　promotion

by　the　company　at　Madame　de　Listomere's；an　old　lady　with　whom　he

spent　every　Wednesday　evening。



The　vicar　rang　loudly；　as　if　to　let　the　servant　know　she　was　not　to

keep　him　waiting。　Then　he　stood　close　to　the　door　to　avoid；　if　he

could；　getting　showered；　but　the　drip　from　the　roof　fell　precisely　on

the　toes　of　his　shoes；　and　the　wind　blew　gusts　of　rain　into　his　face

that　were　much　like　a　shower…bath。　Having　calculated　the　time　necesary

for　the　woman　to　leave　the　kitchen　and　pull　the　string　of　the　outer

door；　he　rang　again；　this　time　in　a　manner　that　resulted　in　a　very

significant　peal　of　the　bell。



〃They　can't　be　out；〃　he　said　to　himself；　not　hearing　any　movement　on

the　premises。



Again　he　rang；　producing　a　sound　that　echoed　sharply　through　the　house

and　was　taken　up　and　repeated　by　all　the　echoes　of　the　cathedral；　so

that　no　one　could　avoid　waking　up　at　the　remonstrating　racket。

Accordingly；　in　a　few　moments；　he　heard；　not　without　some　pleasure　in

his　wrath；　the　wooden　shoes　of　the　servant…woman　clacking　along　the

paved　path　which　led　to　the　outer　door。　But　even　then　the　discomforts

of　the　gouty　old　gentleman　were　not　so　quickly　over　as　he　hoped。

Instead　of　pulling　the　string；　Marianne　was　obliged　to　turn　the　lock

of　the　door　with　its　heavy　key；　and　pull　back　all　the　bolts。



〃Why　did　you　let　me　ring　three　times　in　such　weather？〃　said　the　vicar。



〃But；　monsieur；　don't　you　see　the　door　was　locked？　We　have　all　been　in

bed　ever　so　long；　it　struck　a　quarter　to　eleven　some　time　ago。

Mademoiselle　must　have　thought　you　were　in。〃



〃You　saw　me　go　out；　yourself。　Besides；　Mademoiselle　knows　very　well　I

always　go　to　Madame　de　Listomere's　on　Wednesday　evening。〃



〃I　only　did　as　Mademoiselle　told　me；　monsieur。〃



These　words　struck　the　vicar　a　blow；　which　he　felt　the　more　because

his　late　revery　had　made　him　completely　happy。　He　said　nothing　and

followed　Marianne　towards　the　kitchen　to　get　his　candlestick；　which　he

supposed　had　been　left　there　as　usual。　But　instead　of　entering　the

kitchen　Marianne　went　on　to　his　own　apartme