Had Mr. Beaubien been left to himself, he was naturally too much of a gentleman to ask such questions. But no doubt he had read Liguori, Dens, Debreyne, authors approved by the Pope, and he was obliged to take darkness for light, and vice for virtue.
Chapter IV
THE SHEPHERD WHIPPED BY HIS SHEEP.
Shortly after the trial of auricular confession, my young friend, Louis Cazeault, accosted me on a beautiful morning and said, “Do you know what happened last night?”
“No,” I answered. “What was the wonder?”
“You know that our priest spends almost all his evenings at Mr. Richards’ house. Everybody thinks that he goes there for the sake of the two daughters. Well, in order to cure him of that disease, my uncle, Dr. Tache, and six others, masked, whipped him without mercy as he was coming back at eleven o’clock at night. It is already known by every one in the village, and they split their sides with laughing.”
My first feeling on hearing that news, was one of joy. Ever since my first confession I felt angry every time I thought of that priest. His questions had so wounded me that I could not forgive him. I had enough of self-control, however, to conceal my pleasure and I answered my friend:
“You are telling me a wicked story; I can’t believe a word of it.”
“Well,” said young Cazeault, “come at eight o’clock this evening to my uncle’s. A secret meeting is to take place then. No doubt they will speak of the pill given to the priest last night. We shall place ourselves in our little room as usual and shall hear everything, our presence not being suspected. You may be sure that it will be interesting.”
“I will go,” I answered, “but I do not believe a word of that story.”