In this supreme moment he was a believer. What mattered the hypocrisies of the priests? Could they abate one whit of the truth and sublimity of the idea of God?
It was only then that Julien began to repent of the crime that he had committed. By a coincidence, which prevented him falling into despair, it was only at the present moment that the condition of physical irritation and semi-madness, in which he had been plunged since his departure from Paris for Verrières came to an end.
His tears had a generous source. He had no doubt about the condemnation which awaited him.
“So she will live,” he said to himself. “She will live to forgive me and love me.”
Very late the next morning the gaoler woke him up and said, “You must have a famous spirit, M. Julien. I have come in twice, but I did not want to wake you up. Here are two bottles of excellent wine which our curé, M. Maslon, has sent you.”
“What, is that scoundrel still here?” said Julien.
“Yes, monsieur,” said the gaoler, lowering his voice. “But do not talk so loud, it may do you harm.”
Julien laughed heartily.
“At the stage I have reached, my friend, you alone can do me harm in the event of your ceasing to be kind and tender. You will be well paid,” said Julien, changing his tone and reverting to his imperious manner. This manner was immediately justified by the gift of a piece of money.
M. Noiraud related again, with the greatest detail, everything he had learnt about madame de Rênal, but he did not make any mention of mademoiselle Elisa’s visit.