Chapter 18

Several other spells used by my enemies

I left Avignon to return to Carpentras, where family matters held me back for the space of a year.  My enemies used this time to make my life unbearable, with new trials and apparitions each more extraordinary than the one that came before. This may astonish you, my reader, but have faith, these a glimpse of the torments we experience when we are pursued by diabolical spirits. These are my experiences.

I had a guitar and violin in my room, and from the moment I went to bed to escape my painful existence for a time, the strings of the two instruments were plucked hard enough to deprive me of sleep, but I dared not complain about it for fear of waking the people separated from me by only a thin divider. 

A few days later, as I walked with some friends in the countryside, I separated from them for a moment, to appreciate the beauty of the vast prairie where I found myself, admiring the colors of the flowers produced by simple nature, whose dazzling paints delighted me, producing such magnificent effects. This beauty mingled with the call of the nightingale and the plaintive sound of doves, their cooing in harmony with my sad state. Everything made me reflect on the  beauty of nature and the supreme power of the Almighty. 

It was not part of the infernal plan for my enemies to allow their victim to enjoy rest and repose. They invented new persecutions. The beautiful, sacred thoughts that had occupied my mind were not to their taste. Suddenly, a mere six steps from me, I heard a frightening sound like a ferocious beast, heading my way. I looked around for the sound that seemed so vivid and clear, but it was shrouded in the shadow of mystery. Fear now dominating my soul, I struggled to rejoin my companions. But a breath like wind rushed around me, blocking me on all sides, making my steps unsure. I looked for weapons, something to defend myself, and saw two stones in front of me, and armed myself with both hands. The strange breath stopped, and I went back to my friends, though I did not share what had happened, convinced they would not believe me. 

Even despite this event, I spent the day in cheerfulness, returning to Carpentras. I had nothing better to do than to write Dr. Bouge, telling him what had happened to me. As always, he urged me to be patient and take courage, that everything had to happen in its own time. A few days later I fell ill. I learned that my uncle Berbiguier, in Paris, was on trial with his family. I made plans to go and find him, though I was not entirely recovered. Despite the protests of my doctor and family, I set out to brave the dangers, to travel to an uncle I loved. I needed to learn about the trial, and help him with the proceedings, as best I could.