Diary of a Country Priest Page #2

I could have a choirboy take it

to old Mrs. Ferrant. She'd be delighted.

Father, I approve of all your ideas.

Oh, my ideas.

But I warn you against

putting them into practice.

I don't follow.

The people here are malicious.

Believe me, I know.

If I may offer a bit of advice,

well, don't be in too much of a hurry.

Don't show your hand at once.

Let them take the first step.

There is no urgency.

It's just that these things

are dear to my heart.

As for my land and my barn,

I wouldn't discourage you.

We'll discuss them later

when we get down to working out

something practical together.

You're not looking at all well.

You should take care of your health.

My stomach is very temperamental.

I hesitate, sir,

to mention your daughter.

My daughter?

What is the matter?

I'm concerned about her sadness.

Her face is far from cheerful.

There is something hard

and rigid in her expression

far beyond her years.

Chantal sad?

You must be joking.

Could someone be rubbing her

the wrong way?

Would a little more understanding

from Miss Louise -

You're mad.

The mention of Miss Louise's name

seemed to upset him terribly.

His face hardened.

Why?

I seized the first opportunity

to return to the manor...

a decision I had arrived at quickly.

The servant was

several moments in coming.

I was sure I'd meet the count,

who was usually at the manor

Thursday afternoons.

But I met the countess instead.

I must have surprised her.

Am I disturbing you?

Not at all.

I knew she was withdrawn

and entirely absorbed

in the memory of her dead child.

She approached,

motioning to a chair.

On seeing you, I felt you had come

with some purpose in mind.

None other than to pay a call.

And that you also meant

to keep it to yourself.

I assure you.

I see I was wrong.

Your parishioners worry you

a good deal, Father.

Yet it's such a small parish.

Small on the map, madam.

It's a strange task

you've been entrusted with.

Yes, madam.

How little we know

what a human life really is.

Though I'd arrived feeling fine,

I found myself suddenly incapable

of holding a conversation

or even answering questions.

It's true that I'd walked

very quickly.

I'd lost a lot of time

with the ill Mrs. Ferrant.

Father!

Heavens, what's the matter?

You seem to be suffering terribly.

Where is the pain?

Here, in the pit of my stomach.

But it's nothing.

Nothing at all.

Forgive me, madam,

I must take my leave.

I'm seriously ill.

I was first struck

by this disease six months ago.

I went to see Dr. Delbende.

He's an old man, rumored

to be brutal, who's now retired.

The priest of Torcy

informed him I would be coming.

He palpated my stomach at length

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