But our poor abbé was not inhuman. The fact was, he had completely forgotten the formula used on such occasions; and if the truth must be told, as he was careless and indifferent in religious matters, rather than hypocritical, his conscience reproached him for going to absolve or condemn a fellow-creature when he inwardly felt how utterly unworthy he was himself of judging others at the tribunal of the confessional.
Necessity, however, prevailed over his just scruples; which scruples, however, be it said, could not be made use of as excuses to his vassals: so, with downcast eyes and his reversed fowling-piece under his arm, he permitted himself to be led to the cottage where lay the old man, who was unwilling to render his last sigh without having made the official avowal of his sins.
The villagers knelt in a circle before the door, whilst the abbé seated himself by the side of the dying man, in order the better to receive his confession.
Since the unlucky moment in which the Abbé de Voisenon had been balked of his morning's sport, he had lost—for he had at times his intervals of superstitious terror—the proud determination he had formed of not believing himself ill on that day. But then, what signs of evil augury had greeted him! He had tripped and fallen on leaving home; he had seen flocks of crows; a weeping girl had dragged him to the bedside of a terrified sinner—even now they were repeating the prayers for the dying around him. The Abbé de Voisenon was overcome; his former temerity oozed palpably away, he felt sick at heart, his ears tingled, his asthma groaned within his chest.
"I am ill," thought he. "I was in the wrong to come out; why did I not take my old servant's advice, and remain at home?"
Finally he lent an ear to the old man's confession.
"You were born the same day as myself!" exclaimed the abbé, at the patient's first confidential communication; "you were born the same day as myself!"
The old man continued, and here a new terror arose for our abbé.
"You have never heard mass to the end! And I," thought he, "have never heard even the beginning for these last thirty years!"
The penitent continued:—