not ask you for proofs, I ask you if you believe in it.”
“I believe that the apparition depends very much on the person who sees it,” said the curé, still teasing the unbeliever.
“My friend, I am not laying a trap for you; what do you believe in all this?”
“I believe the power of God to be infinite,” said the abbé.
“When I am dead, if I become reconciled with God, I will pray Him to let me appear to you,” said the doctor, laughing.
“That is precisely the agreement made between Cardan and his friend,” replied the curé.
“Ursule,” said Minoret, “if ever any danger threatens you, call me and I will come.”
“You have just said in one word the touching elegy entitled Néère, by André Chénier,” replied the curé. “But poets are only great because they know how to clothe facts or the sentiments of eternally living pictures.”
“Why do you speak of your death, dear godfather?” said the young girl in a mournful tone. “We Christians do not die, our tomb is the cradle of our soul.”
“Well,” said the doctor, smiling, “we must some day leave this world, and when I am no longer here, you will be very much astonished at your good fortune.”
“When you are no more, my beloved friend, my only consolation will be to devote my life to you.”
