The Woman and the Priest

mething ghostly, undefinable in the wind. It buffeted him about and chilled him through and through after his ardent dream of love, an

before the blast, one hand holding on his hat and the other clutching his coat together. He had no breath l

was born in him at that moment: for the first time he realized clearly and unmist

ho had first let her gaze linger upon him, that from their earliest meeting her eyes had sought his with a look that implored his help and his love. And litt

ey had kissed. And now his blood, which had flowed quietly so many years, rushed through hi

tle their plans. But now the reality of the outside world, and that wind that seemed trying to strip him bare, tore away the veil of self-deception. Breathless, he stood before the church door; he was icy cold, and

ant and dissuade her; he actually walked a few steps beside the wall where his mother had passed shortly before, then turned back in despair and fell on his knees in front of the church

an that of the wind on those high hills; it was the supreme struggle

recognized the real nature of his motives, confessing to himself that what swayed him most, more than the fear and the lo

n as to life itself, that her image would be with him in his house, that he would walk at her side by day and at night sleep entangled in the inextricable meshes of her long

oss the little dining-room into the entrance hall. Then he saw his mother sitting by the dead ashes, as though wat

ltered a second at the kitchen door, and then advanced to the hear

t gone to bed?"

eathly pale; yet she was steady and quiet, almost stern, and whi

for you, Paul. Whe

not strictly true would be only a useless farce

a sick person,"

eam; for an instant only, and the mother's face was transfig

ing of shame, but with no hesitation in her speech, "P

her, she went on speaking in a lo

ve heard you go out, and to-night I followed you and

and straight above her, pale as death, his shadow cast by the lamp upon the wall behind him, motionless as

t her knee and implore her to lead him away from the village, then and there, immediately; and at the same time he was shaking with rage and humiliation, humiliation at finding his weakness exp

placing his hand on her head, "I tell you

body ill in

ck persons

I tell you that sin is an illness worse than any other, because it attacks the soul. Moreover," she added, taking his hand and drawing him down towards her that he might he

pring. His mother had cut him to the quick. Yes, it was true; during all that ho

d been arrested and were being led bound to prison. Then his thoughts turned again to God; it was God who had bound him, therefore

his hand away by force, "I am no longer a bo

e were turned to stone, for he ha

g you have done. If you did see i

w should

t that is just what you don't tell me, because you cannot do so conscientiously, and therefore it is better y

s mother's side and stood in the middle of t

, and I have no wish to say anything mor

de with blazing eyes as thoug

o speak of this again, neither to me nor to a

d forced him to look her straight in the eyes; then she let him go

t himself caught in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, even that silken rustle seemed to speak and warn him that henceforth his life would be but a maze of errors and light things and vileness. Everything spoke to him; the wind outside, that recalled the long loneliness of his youth, and inside the house the mournful figure of his mother

eing that she did not move but sat with head bowed as though asleep, he bent do

the

or to anyone else. But I shall not stir from this place except to leave the presbytery and the v

a flood of bitter words rose to his lips, and he wanted to cry out upon his mother, to throw the blame on her and reproach her for having brought him from his native village and set his feet upon a way that was not his. But what would be the use? She would not ev

u that I will never en

ything. He was saved. But as he crossed the adjoining dining-room he heard

im afresh. He moved here and there without any reason, opened the window and thrust his head out into the wind, feeling as helpless as one of the million leaves whirled about in

us be

of approval granted to the willing servant. He asked nothing from anyone; he wanted only to go forward in the straight way, alone and hopeless. Yet he was afraid of going to bed and putting out the light, and instead he sat down and began to read St. Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians: but the printed words fle

ead his face, and he raised hi

ful smile, "the really strong man never swears. Whoever takes an o

eginning, and so great was his consternation that he rose

thou wilt not give thyself wholly to Him, then the s

urst into tears. He wept silently that his mother might not hear him, and that he might not

me, bring me

ief, as though he had found a plank of sal

a married man and had no right to betray his wife. Why he had fallen in love with that woman and still loved her he did not exactly know. Perhaps he had reached a sort of physical crisis, when the youth and strength of his twenty-eight year

tion of love between them drew them together: nobody entertained the faintest suspicion of their relationship to each other, and they met without emotion, without fear and w

that from the first glance he had desired the woman, from the first glance he had possessed her in his hea

ed the true meaning of that anguish: it was the bitterness of death, for to renounce love and the possession of Agnes was to renounce life itself. Then his thoughts went further: "Was not even this vain and futile? When the momentary pleasure of love is past, the spirit resumes mastery over itself, and, with a more intense longing for solitude than befor

a reed in the stream; he whispered sweet words into the little hollow behind her ear, covered his face with her loosened hair, warm and scented like the flowers of the wild saffron. And biting hard into his pillow, he repeated to her all the Song of Songs, and when this was ende