nt. Heaven preserved that hopeless silence
which suppliants at times encounter. Then he once more sat down on the
altar steps, heart-crushed and with ashen face, pressing his elbows to
his sides, as though he were trying to reduce his flesh to the smallest
proportions possible.

'My God! Thou deserted me!' he murmured. 'Nevertheless, Thy will be
done!'

He spoke not another word, but sat there, panting breathlessly, like a
hunted beast that cowers motionless in fear of the hounds. Ever since
his sin, he had thus seemed to be the sport of the divine grace. It
denied itself to his most ardent prayers; it poured down upon him,
unexpectedly and refreshingly, when he had lost all hope of winning it
for long years to come.

At first he had been inclined to rebel against this dispensation of
Heaven, complaining like a betrayed lover, and demanding the immediate
return of that consoling grace, whose kiss made him so strong. But
afterwards, after unavailing outbursts of anger, he had learned to
understand that humility profited him most and could alone enable him to
endure the withdrawal of the divine assistance. Then, for hours and for
days, he would humble himself and wait for comfort which came not. In
vain he cast himself unreservedly into the hands of God, annihilated
himself before the Divinity, wearied himself with the incessant
repetition of prayers. He could not perceive God's presence with him;
and his flesh, breaking free from all restraint, rose up in rebellious
desire. It was a slow agony of temptation, in which the weapons of faith
fell, one by one, from his faltering hands, in which he lay inert in
the clutch of passion, in which he beheld with horror his own ignominy,
without having the courage to raise his little finger to free himself
from the thraldom of sin.

Such was now his life. He had felt sin's attacks in every form. Not
a day passed that he was not tried. Sin assumed a thousand guises,
assailed him through his eyes and ears, flew boldly at his throat,
leaped treacherously upon his shoulders, or stole torturingly into
his bones. His transgression was ever present, he almost always beheld
Albine dazzling as the sunshine, lighting up the greenery of the
Paradou. He only ceased to see her in those rare moments when the divine
grace deigned to close his eyes with its cool caresses. And he strove to
hide his sufferings as one hides those of some disgraceful disease. He
wrapped himself in the endless sile