The Treasurer used to join him and spoke to him humbly….
With these adulations ringing in his ears, the Father walked on, mopping his brow, and placed his wide brimmed tricorne hat on the back of his head, where it gave all the appearance of a halo, and looked complacently around at the great courtyard planted with orange trees, and the new working weathercocks on the blue roofs. In the sparklingly white cloister—between the elegant columns decorated with flowers—the Canons, in new clothes, were filing past in pairs, in renewed health and well-being.
—It's thanks to me they can enjoy all that! the Reverend thought; and each time he did, he flushed with pride.
But, the unfortunate man was to be well punished for his pride, as you will see….
* * * * *
Who would have thought, that one evening, during the service, he would come to church in an extraordinarily agitated state: red-faced, out of breath, his cowl askew, and so beside himself, that as he took the holy water, he wet his sleeves up to the elbow. At first, it was thought it was the embarrassment of coming late, but he was then seen bowing deeply to the organ and the gallery instead of genuflecting to the high altar, and then breezing quickly across the church, and wandering about for five minutes looking for his stall. After all this, once seated, he turned to right and left, smiling beatifically, prompting a murmur of astonishment that spread down the three naves. From prayer book to prayer book the whisper went,
—What on earth is the matter with Father Gaucher?… What's wrong with
Father Gaucher?
Twice, the Prior struck his crosier impatiently on the flagstones to command silence…. Over at the back of the choir, the psalms were still echoing out, but without any responses….
Suddenly, right in the middle of the Ave Verum, Father Gaucher slumped back into his stall and began singing in a piercing voice:
In Paris, there was a White Canon,
Who went all the way with a black nun….