Droll Stories — Volume 1 by Honoré de Balzac
page 55 of 203 (27%)
page 55 of 203 (27%)
|
"A thing that cannot be explained, and which one ought to believe
without enquiring into it." "Well then," said she, "cannot I perform a mystery?" "This one," said the Abbot, "only happened once, because it was the Son of God." "Alas! my father, is it then the will of God that I should die, or that from wise and sound comprehension my brain should be turned? Of this there is a great danger. Now in me something moves and excites me, and I am no longer in my senses. I care for nothing, and to find a man I would leap the walls, dash over the fields without shame and tear my things into tatters, only to see that which so much excited the monk of the Carneaux; and during these passions which work and prick my mind and body, there is neither God, devil, nor husband. I spring, I run, I smash up the wash-tubs, the pots, the farm implements, a fowl-house, the household things, and everything, in a way that I cannot describe. But I dare not confess to you all my misdeeds, because speaking of them makes my mouth water, and the thing with which God curses me makes me itch dreadfully. If this folly bites and pricks me, and slays my virtue, will God, who has placed this great love in my body, condemn me to perdition?" At this question it was the priest who scratched his ear, quite dumbfounded by the lamentations, profound wisdom, controversies and intelligence that this virginity secreted. "My daughter," said he, "God has distinguished us from the beasts and made us a paradise to gain, and for this given us reason, which is a |
|