A Beleaguered City eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 173 pages of information about A Beleaguered City.

M. le Cure came down the altar steps when his mass was ended.  Together we put away the vestments and the holy vessels.  Our hearts were soft; the weight was taken from them.  As we came out the bells were dying away in long and low echoes, now faint, now louder, like mingled voices of gladness and regret.  And whereas it had been a pale twilight when we entered, the clearness of the day had rolled sweetly in, and now it was fair morning in all the streets.  We did not say a word to each other, but arm and arm took our way to the gates, to open to our neighbours, to call all our fellow-citizens back to Semur.

If I record here an incident of another kind, it is because of the sequel that followed.  As we passed by the hospital of St. Jean, we heard distinctly, coming from within, the accents of a feeble yet impatient voice.  The sound revived for a moment the troubles that were stilled within us—­but only for a moment.  This was no visionary voice.  It brought a smile to the grave face of M. le Cure and tempted me well nigh to laughter, so strangely did this sensation of the actual, break and disperse the visionary atmosphere.  We went in without any timidity, with a conscious relaxation of the great strain upon us.  In a little nook, curtained off from the great ward, lay a sick man upon his bed.  ‘Is it M. le Maire?’ he said; ’a la bonne heure!  I have a complaint to make of the nurses for the night.  They have gone out to amuse themselves; they take no notice of poor sick people.  They have known for a week that I could not sleep; but neither have they given me a sleeping draught, nor endeavoured to distract me with cheerful conversation.  And to-day, look you, M. le Maire, not one of the sisters has come near me!’

‘Have you suffered, my poor fellow?’ I said; but he would not go so far as this.

’I don’t want to make complaints, M. le Maire; but the sisters do not come themselves as they used to do.  One does not care to have a strange nurse, when one knows that if the sisters did their duty—­But if it does not occur any more I do not wish it to be thought that I am the one to complain.’

‘Do not fear, mon ami,’ I said.  ’I will say to the Reverend Mother that you have been left too long alone.’

‘And listen, M. le Maire,’ cried the man; ’those bells, will they never be done?  My head aches with the din they make.  How can one go to sleep with all that riot in one’s ears?’

We looked at each other, we could not but smile.  So that which is joy and deliverance to one is vexation to another.  As we went out again into the street the lingering music of the bells died out, and (for the first time for all these terrible days and nights) the great clock struck the hour.  And as the clock struck, the last cloud rose like a mist and disappeared in flying vapours, and the full sunshine of noon burst on Semur.


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A Beleaguered City from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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