Chapter XXIII: Controversy on Important Points (3)

Robert covered with kisses and with tears the words traced by the failing hand of his mother; then, when he was a little calmed, it made him happy to know that she had conceived a plan which was precisely the same he had thought of, and that she was solicitous for him to go. The rest of the night passed slowly enough to the young orphan. At daybreak he came down from the mountain and knocked at the door of the rectory. The virtuous and worthy curé, who preached to the inhabitants of the village of Bains, received him with the utmost kindness, for he had known him long and well, and had already initiated him into the {644} mysteries of our divine religion, and from his pure and touching morals he had been led to give him his first communion. When he saw the poor child in such distress he could scarcely utter a word, so much did he feel for his bleeding heart, either could he ask him the questions he knew he ought relative to his leaving the isolated place in which he had lived, nor could Robert have answered them so full was he of emotion; but he said to him in a paternal tone and full of interest: "Let us see, my child, what is to be done with your effects. Don't you think that you should leave the place, now that you are alone? What do you intend to do? Have you formed any project? If you have confidence in me, tell me your ideas, speak to me openly, and all that I can possibly do for you I will with pleasure I have no occupation but to do good to others, to console them in their sorrows, and take them by the hand with a need assistance." "Thank you, good curé," replied Robert, with sweetness and respect. "I desire to obey the wishes of my mother, who tells me to go to Paris. See what she says to me--this dear, good mother--before she dies," holding to him with the trembling hand the precious paper containing the interpretation of his mothers wishes. He then said: "Is it not a sacred duty I owe my mother, that of accomplishing her last request?" "Yes, my dear child, but you are very young to make so long a journey on foot to Paris. Do you know any one there?" "No, sir; but my mother said I must go, and no matter how I get there I must do it." "Your resolution is praiseworthy my child, yet it seems to me that you should reflect a little, before undertaking what seems so much for you. But if you really must attempt it, I will give you a letter to a friend of mine, who is now curé of the Church of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois. This recommendation, I hope, will be of great assistance to you, for my friend is a man of rare virtues and inexhaustible charity Place your cell under his protection, and I do not doubt but you will soon be out of embarrassment. I think you should sell your furniture, the proceeds would in large your funds very much. But, my child, your extreme youth frightens me. I am afraid you will never get to Paris." "Oh! be tranquil, good father. I trust so much to God as my guide that I know I shall arrived without accident, and with but little fatigue." "Go, my child, I have no longer any objection; and since you desire it so much, I will do all I can to facilitate your project. While I am gone refresh yourself; take something to eat, it will strengthen your body, which cannot but be feeble under the sufferings of your soul. Do you hear, my child? I want you to take some nourishment, if it is only a little you will feel better after it. I will return directly," and, looking kindly at him, the venerable curé went out, to see which of his parishioners would purchase the furniture belonging to the orphan.