Chapter 35

Disturbances at night. My doubts about the honesty of men.

That night, I said my prayers as usual. I went to bed, happy with myself, pleased that Etienne understood that I had such extensive knowledge. I couldn’t sleep for dwelling on these happy thoughts, and went to a late mass to get a head start on the next day, making sure there was time to speak to Prieur and keep him from leaving without me in my absence. That was the sort of thing he’d use as an excuse to break his word, and certainly fit the behavior he’d shown me. So it was early when I returned and found him in still bed. 

“How can you still be sleeping at this hour?” I asked.

“My god, do you ever sleep? Or do you dream when you’re awake? I know you like the dawn, but I know when it’s late and it is not late. Please let me rest.” 

“But you were going to take me to the priest of Quinze-Vingts, yes?” 

He laid down, rubbing his eyes, and swore under his breath. One of his regular visitors came to the house, and stayed to chat so long that it put me in a foul mood, I was willing to send him to the devil myself. Their conversation did not involve me, but then another stranger arrived. And this is how bad luck follows me wherever I go. 

They kissed and talked to each other like old friends after a long absence. The visit had already stretched half past too long, and at last I said to Prieur, “I see you’re clearly not ready to keep the promise you made to me regarding M. Cazin.”

At that name, this new stranger said, “I was talking to Cazin yesterday. He had left to go pick up some materials for his parish, but we didn’t know where he was going and couldn’t find him. I asked about for his old address, maybe someone there would know his new one.” 

Etienne was irritated by this news. The priest should have told him where he was going, he said. I shall avenge myself by sending him a string of insults when we next write. Cazin must know that December 17 was the day we’d set to end this entire affair.” His friends pretended to share his feigned annoyance, but I could see they were playing me.

“You know, if you’d taken me to the priest when I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” I said. “I’ll just comfort myself with having his address. I should be able to find the town where he’s gone to get my cure.” The late guest seemed to approve of this, also giving his apology for not being able to get the cure to me, and save me the trip.

I said my goodbyes, this time with a joking edge to my voice, and went to the shops in Saint-Antoine to clear my head of all this. I stopped by my home first, amused at having won one against the people that had thought they would play me. It was sad to think that there were people so perverse, base enough to abuse the good faith of honest people. How will society move forward if we can no longer trust the people who seem to speak with the most sincerity? May I never defile the divine truth as it passes through my mouth. I will prove to any of those who hear me: I am pure innocence. 

There are souls that are hardened by their dealings with evil spirits, who only exist to deceive. I must count myself blessed at having been given the wisdom to repel these curses, see through the deceptions of my enemies, and avoid falling into their seductive traps!

Something that supported this line of thought: all the delays Prieur had put into Father Imbert’s workings. This supposed departure of the priest, all the pretensions of irritation, every bit of this fed my suspicion. I congratulated myself on knowing the human heart in such depth, and putting this generous god-given gift to such good use. 

Outside, I heard Baptiste Prieur at the door. I let him in, and told him everything that had happened. Here are the characters of the men, spread before us. How can we ignore this? 

He said that this did not speak well of Cazin, and he had much to say to him soon, but beyond that, I needed to be calm. He had some influence over his brother, and would have a serious talk with him. He wouldn’t be able to heal me without this priest. Then the conversation turned to this or that before he left. 

As soon as he’d departed, I set out for the hospice of Quinze-Vingts. I asked the doorman there for the address of the priest Cazin. The doorman wasn’t able to find the address, but gave it to one of the attendants, who found it immediately.

Ah, now let’s see how they treat me when I return with my cure! I had the address, I had the letter, I will go to the post office myself, no more delays, everything according to a plan. I savored my moment of triumph on the way back to Saint-Roch. The wickedness of my enemies had not diverted me from my path. 

Back at my house, Jacques Prieur [1] knocked on my door, asking what I had done. I showed him the priest’s address, and he pretended to look satisfied, and promised to write me. We talked about his family and mine, various things from the past. I mentioned the conversation I’d had with his brother Baptiste,  and what I’d learned about Cazin’s departure.

“All of this is useless, Berbiguier. My brother can cure you, on his own.”

“How?”

“It’s true, Etienne told me so. He can do it without the help of this priest you’ve put so much confidence in. I can prove it. We’re going to get rid of this–” 

He took the five packets of verbena, and threw them out the window.

“And you will sleep peacefully.” He went on to say that treatments his cousin Lomini had given me would work in opposition to my cure, and they had to be abandoned, they’d do more harm than good. 

He left promising to write to Cazin, if only to find out if the priest would keep his word. 

It was one in the morning. I was tied in knots, thinking about everything I’d seen, everything I’d done that day. And yet I still could hear the strange noises that prowled my room every night. How could these promises, these cures, promised to me be carried out? 

But if I had to, I would continue to sacrifice my happiness for the love of God, and I had become used to this sort of thing by now. I would talk more about it tomorrow, only with Jacques. 

[1] This paragraph was a confusing mix of references to Baptiste and Etienne, and a “Mr. Prieur” who seems to be separate from the other two. I’m assuming this is the oldest brother, the pharmacist, who I’ve dubbed Jacques to try to clear up confusion between the three Prieur boys and their father, also, Prieur.