CHAPTER IV
Since Friday night the good Cure, in his calm, philosophical way, had
brooded much over the talk in the garden upon France, the Revolution, and
Napoleon. As a rule, his sermons were commonplace almost to a classical
simplicity, but there were times when, moved by some new theme, he talked
to the villagers as if they, like himself, were learned and wise. He
thought of his old life in France, of two Napoleons that he had seen, and
of the time when, at Neuilly, a famous general burst into his father's
house, and, with streaming tears, cried:
"He is dead--he is dead--at St. Helena--Napoleon! Oh, Napoleon!"
A chapter from Isaiah came to the Cure's mind. He brought out his Bible
from the house, and, walking up and down, read aloud certain passages.
They kept singing in his ears all day
He will surely violently turn and toss thee like a ball into a large
country: there shalt thou die, and there the chariots of thy glory
shall be the shame of thy lord's house. . . .
And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will call my servant
Eliakim the son of Hilkiah
And I will clothe him with thy robe, and strengthen him with thy
girdle, and I will commit thy government into his hand. . . .
And I will fasten him as a nail in a sure place; and he shall be for
a glorious throne to his father's house.
And they shall hang upon him all the glory of his father's house,
the offspring and the issue.
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