which he let
flow down his cheeks as though they were so many blessings, the priest
murmured:

'O God, it is not true that Thou art pitiless. I know it, I feel it:
Thou hast already pardoned me. I feel it in the outpouring of Thy grace,
which, for hours now, has been flowing through me in a sweet stream,
bringing me back, slowly but surely, perfect peace and spiritual health.
O God, it was at the very moment when I was about to forsake Thee that
Thou didst protect me most effectually. Thou didst hide Thyself from me,
the better to rescue me from evil. Thou didst allow my flesh to run its
course, that I might be convinced of its nothingness. And now, O God,
I see that Thou hast for ever marked me with Thy seal, that awful seal,
pregnant with blessings, which sets a man apart from other men, and
whose mark is so ineffaceable that, sooner or later, it makes itself
manifest even upon those who sin. Thou hast broken me with sin and
temptation. Thou hast ravaged me with Thy flames. Thou hast willed
that there should be nought left of me save ruins wherein Thou mightest
safely descend. I am an empty tabernacle wherein Thou may'st dwell.
Blessed art Thou, O God!'

He prostrated himself and continued stammering in the dust. The church
triumphed. It remained firm and unshaken over the priest's head, with
its altars and its confessional, its pulpit, its crosses, and its holy
images. The world had ceased to exist. Temptation was extinguished like
a fire that was henceforth unnecessary for the Abbe's purification. He
was entering into supernatural peace. And he raised this supreme cry:

'To the exclusion of life and its creatures and of everything that be in
it, I belong to Thee, O God; to Thee, Thee alone, through all eternity!'

XIV

At that moment Albine was still wandering about the Paradou with all
the mute agony of a wounded animal. She had ceased to weep. Her face was
very white and a deep crease showed upon her brow. Why did she have to
suffer that deathlike agony? Of what fault had she been guilty, that
the garden no longer kept the promises it had held out to her since
her childhood's days? She questioned herself as she walked along, never
heeding the avenues through which the gloom was slowly stealing. She
had always obeyed the voices of the trees. She could not remember having
injured a single flower. She had ever been the beloved daughter of the
greenery, hearkening to it submissively, yielding to it with ful