“So good a lady!” cried the women.
Pity began to predominate. Cold water was thrown upon Grandier, without his being taken from the court, and he was tied to his seat. The Judge-Advocate went on:
“We are directed to read the beginning of this book to the court,” and he read as follows:
“‘It is for thee, dear and gentle Madeleine, in order to set at rest
thy troubled conscience, that I have described in this book one
thought of my soul. All those thoughts tend to thee, celestial
creature, because in thee they return to the aim and object of my
whole existence; but the thought I send thee, as ‘twere a flower,
comes from thee, exists only in thee, and returns to thee alone.
“‘Be not sad because thou lovest me; be not afflicted because I
adore thee. The angels of heaven, what is it that they do? The
souls of the blessed, what is it that is promised them? Are we less
pure than the angels? Are our souls less separated from the earth
than they will be after death? Oh, Madeleine, what is there in us
wherewith the Lord can be displeased? Can it be that we pray
together, that with faces prostrate in the dust before His altars,
we ask for early death to take us while yet youth and love are ours?
Or that, musing together beneath the funereal trees of the
churchyard, we yearned for one grave, smiling at the idea of death,
and weeping at life? Or that, when thou kneelest before me at the
tribunal of penitence, and, speaking in the presence of God, canst
find naught of evil to reveal to me, so wholly have I kept thy soul
in the pure regions of heaven? What, then, could offend our
Creator? Perhaps—yes! perhaps some spirit of heaven may have
envied me my happiness when on Easter morn I saw thee kneeling
before me, purified by long austerities from the slight stain which
original sin had left in thee! Beautiful, indeed, wert thou! Thy
glance sought thy God in heaven, and my trembling hand held His
image to thy pure lips, which human lip had never dared to breathe
upon. Angelic being! I alone participated in the secret of the
Lord, in the one secret of the entire purity of thy soul; I it was
that united thee to thy Creator, who at that moment descended also
into my bosom. Ineffable espousals, of which the Eternal himself
was the priest, you alone were permitted between the virgin and her
pastor! the sole joy of each was to see eternal happiness beginning
for the other, to inhale together the perfumes of heaven, to drink
in already the harmony of the spheres, and to feel assured that our
souls, unveiled to God and to ourselves alone, were worthy together
to adore Him.
“‘What scruple still weighs upon thy soul, O my sister? Dost thou
think I have offered too high a worship to thy virtue? Fearest thou
so pure an admiration should deter me from that of the Lord?’”
Houmain had reached this point when the door through which the witnesses had withdrawn suddenly opened. The judges anxiously whispered together. Laubardemont, uncertain as to the meaning of this, signed to the fathers to let him know whether this was some scene executed by their orders; but, seated at some distance from him, and themselves taken by surprise, they could not make him understand that they had not prepared this interruption. Besides, ere they could exchange looks, to the amazement of the assembly, three women, ‘en chemise’, with naked feet, each with a cord round her neck and a wax taper in her hand, came through the door and advanced to the middle of the platform. It was the Superior of the Ursulines, followed by Sisters Agnes and Claire. Both the latter were weeping; the Superior was very pale, but her bearing was firm, and her eyes were fixed and tearless. She knelt; her companions followed her example. Everything was in such confusion that no one thought of checking them; and in a clear, firm voice she pronounced these words, which resounded in every corner of the hall:
“In the name of the Holy Trinity, I, Jeanne de Belfiel, daughter of the Baron de Cose, I, the unworthy Superior of the Convent of the Ursulines of Loudun, ask pardon of God and man for the crime I have committed in accusing the innocent Urbain Grandier. My possession was feigned, my words were dictated; remorse overwhelms me.”
“Bravo!” cried the spectators, clapping their hands. The judges arose; the archers, in doubt, looked at the president; he shook in every limb, but did not change countenance.
“Let all be silent,” he said, in a sharp voice; “archers, do your duty.”
This man felt himself supported by so strong a hand that nothing could affright him—for no thought of Heaven ever visited him.
“What think you, my fathers?” said he, making a sign to the monks.