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.“Bravo!” said Mr.Jeufroy, entering.“Marriage having been established by Jesus…”Pécuchet interrupted him: “In which Gospel? In apostolic times, it was placed so low that Tertullian compared it to adultery.”“Oh, now really!”“Seriously! And it’s not a sacrament! For a sacrament, you need a sign.Show me the sign in marriage!” The priest tried answering that it represented the alliance of God and the Church, but to no avail.“You don’t understand Christianity! And the law…”“The law shows traces of the sacrament,” said Mr.de Faverges.“Without Christianity, the law would sanction polygamy!”A voice responded, “What’s wrong with that?” It was Bouvard, half hidden by a curtain.“One could have several wives, like the patriarchs, the Mormons, or the Muslims, and still be an honest man!”“Never!” cried the priest.“Honesty consists in rendering what is due.We owe our homage to God.He who isn’t Christian is not honest!”“He’s as honest as anyone else,” said Bouvard.The count, hearing this retort as an attack on religion, took up its defense.It had freed the slaves.Bouvard cited several sources that proved the opposite: “Saint Paul advises them to obey their masters as they obey Jesus.Saint Ambrose calls servitude a gift from God.Leviticus, Exodus, and the councils ratify it.Bossuet lists it among the rights of men.And Monsignor Bouvier approves of it.”The count objected that Christianity had helped spread civilization, no less.“As well as laziness, by making a virtue of poverty!”“And what, sir, about the morality of the Gospel?”“Oh! Oh! It’s hardly as moral as all that! Workers are paid the same at the end as at the beginning.Charity goes to those who already possess and is taken away from those in need.As for the precept of turning the other cheek and letting oneself be robbed, it encourages only the impudent, the cowardly, and the arrogant.”The uproar doubled when Pécuchet declared he preferred Buddhism.The priest burst out laughing: “Buddhism? Ha, ha, ha!”Mme.de Naoris threw her arms in the air: “Buddhism!”“What? Buddhism?” repeated the count.“Do you know it?” Pécuchet asked Mr.Jeufroy, who sputtered in confusion.“Well, then, get to know it! More than Christianity, and well before it, it recognized the vanity of earthly things.Its practices are austere, its believers outnumber all the Christians, and as for incarnation, Vishnu is not one but nine! See for yourself!”“Travelers’ tales!” said Mme.de Naoris.“Supported by Freemasons,” the priest added.And everyone spoke at once: “Go on!” “Oh please!” “That’s a good one!” “You’ve got to be joking!” “That’s not possible”—to the point where Pécuchet, exasperated, declared that he was becoming a Buddhist.“You are offending these good Christian women!” said the baron.Mme.de Naoris collapsed into a chair.The countess and Yolande fell silent.The count rolled his eyes.Hurel awaited his orders.The priest, to calm himself, read his breviary.His example appeased Mr.de Faverges.And glaring at his two visitors: “Before casting aspersions on the Gospel, there are certain reparations one should make when one has stains in one’s own life…”“What reparations?”“What stains?”“Come, gentlemen, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about!” Then, to Foureau: “Sorel has been notified.Get going!” And Bouvard and Pécuchet took their leave without a word of goodbye.At the end of the alleyway, the three of them vented their resentment.“They treat me like a servant,” grumbled Foureau, and the others agreed.Despite the memory of his hemorrhoids, he felt a kind of sympathy for them.A road crew was working beside the fields.The foreman came up to them: it was Gorgu.They started talking.He was overseeing the pebbling of the road they’d voted in 1848, and owed his job to Mr.de Mahurot, the engineer.“The one who’s planning to marry Mlle.de Faverges.You’ve just come from there, right?”“For the last time!” Pécuchet said harshly.Gorgu put on an innocent face.“A quarrel? You don’t say.”And if they had seen his expression when they turned on their heels, they would have realized he’d divined the cause.A bit farther on they stopped before a trellised enclosure, inside of which were dog kennels and a small house covered in red tiles.Victorine was at the doorway.The air was loud with barking.The gamekeeper’s wife appeared.Knowing why the mayor had come, she called for Victor.Everything was prepared in advance, their belongings bundled in two handkerchiefs held shut with pins.“Safe journey!” she said, happy to be rid of those vermin.Was it their fault they had a criminal for a father? On the contrary, they seemed very sweet, not even concerned with where they were being taken.Bouvard and Pécuchet watched them walking in front.Victorine sang words they couldn’t make out, her bundle over her arm, like a dressmaker’s assistant carrying a package.Sometimes she looked back, and Pécuchet, seeing her blond curls and her comely gait, regretted not having a child like that.Raised in other conditions, she would have been a charmer.What joy to watch her grow up, to hear her birdlike song every day, to give her kisses whenever he wanted—and a feeling of tenderness rose from his heart to his lips, moistened his eyelids, made him feel oppressed.Victor had put his bundle on his back, like a soldier.He whistled, threw stones at the crows in the furrows, strayed under the trees to cut himself a walking stick.Foureau called him back; and Bouvard, holding him by the hand, was delighted to feel those childish fingers, so robust and vigorous.All the poor little devil wanted was to grow freely, like a flower in the great outdoors! He would rot between walls, with lessons, punishments, a heap of stupidities! Bouvard was seized by a jolt of pity, a flare of indignation against fate, one of those rages that make you want to pull down the government.“Go on!” he said.“Have fun.Enjoy the time you’ve got left!”The boy ran off.He and his sister would sleep at the inn [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]