EASTER EGGS."

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XVII, Issue 9, 21 June 1889, Page 23

EASTER EGG S."

(Adapted from the French of Charles Baint-Martin for the New York Freeman's Journal.) Pir was Holy Saturday in the ye»r 1888, about three o'clock in the afternoon. Captain Benaud, retired from the Twentieth Regimeut of the Line, was leaning out of the winiow, smoking his pipe and looking at the passers-by. The old soldier had come to spend his closing day among the peasants of his native village, whom he no longer knew, and who did not know him, although bo me old patriarchs remembered having seen him about the year 1825, wben he waß a child at his mother's knee. Ec occupied the home of his par-nts but lived there alone, with an old housekeeper— for everybody belonging to him had been long dead. His solitude was sometimes enlivened by the visit, almost always ■elfish, of some worthless scamps, who came for their dinner, and paid their reckoning by relating idiotic old tales, in which priests played a ridiculous and odious part. For tne captain was impious, impiousto the marrow of bis bones. His was not the florid scepticism of certain talons, nor the indifference of the besotted debauchb , nor the lofty disdain of the village politician ; it was the hatred, oDen, avowed and persevering, of the Church, religion, priests and every religious ceremony. You should have heard him jeer at the cures, the monks, and, above all, at the poor Christian Brothers I The way to obtain everything from bim waß by flattering his sectarian passions and applauding bis barrack scandals. The parish, which happened te) be a very Christian one, where all the men, nearly without exception, were in the habit of fulfilling their Easter duties, was scandalised by the presence of this man, who never put his foot within the church, had always a blasphemy on his lips, kept bis hat or kepi on his head when the procession passed by bim, and spoke of nothing lesathaa strangling their good pastor I "Strangle om cur 6," said the worthy damas of the village. "The man is possessed I And Rosalie consents to keep house for him What has come over her ?" But Rosalie answered, smiling : ! "It is Monsie jr le cure who has forced me to do so. He has his idea, I have no doubt." The idea of the old priest was very simple. He wanted to convert Captain Renaud, whom he had known when quite young and whose mother had died thq death of a saint. But all his attempts had failed I In vain had he kept vacant the two seats in the church, lately occupied by M. and Mme. Renaud ; they were still empty. In vain had he been the first to call on the captain ; the gruff old soldier refused to see him. In vain had he multiplied the kindly attentions, the smiles and little affectionate phrases that one flings at the passer-by in order to engage him in a conversation ; the terrible man repulsed all his advances, and the more the aged priest, loved by all his parishioners, venerated as a father, redoubled his efforts, the more the truculent veteran redoubled hia impieties. "This time, Monsieur le cui6," said the sacristan, "you are caught I He will escape you for sure ! Well, he will be the first." "We mu9t wait, my good Buron," replied the holy man. •' We must wait for the hour of God." Now, on that day, the sun in all his splendour, was warming the earth, and the spring-tide flowers were bursting into glorious tints. The heavens were blue, of that lovely azure blue which one is never weary of admiring. There was not a cioud. The insects were humming as if it were the month of July. No other sound was heard from the country. In Christian parishes there is no work on Holy Saturday ; the people go to confession, to divine service, and prepare for the great festival of the morrow. It is this that gives so much charm and poetry to those beautif al paschal days. The captain felt himself stirred by a singular emotion in the presence of nature — nature revived, rejuvenated, as it were, brought to life again. Without knowing it, he was taking part in the universal festival, and believiog that he heard the far-off echo of a forgotten alleluia. He suddenly recalled that his mother had died on the same day and about the same hour, and he felt his forehead redden with shame at the thought that he had never seen her grave. At that very moment, he heard the two bells of the church — dumb tor the last two days — ringing out a full and joyous peal. Soon the bells of the neighbouring villages answered to the first, and the sweet and majestic concert made his soul vibrate with certain chords he had thought long since broken. '■A huadred thousand devils ' " he growled, "no matter how old one grows, he st'll allows himself to be caught by that kind of thing ? " Half an hour later, the roid was filled with a joyous and excited throng. It was tae people returning to their homes, singing 0 filii et jihee. Thn rays of the settinz sun gave the scene a tint so warm, golden and luminous that the eyes were enraptured. Suddenly, the litile voices of the children were raised in the distance, shrill and piercing as the clarions of th<; Twentieth Regiment of the Line ; they were singing the burden of a local song The capraia b arted. Ho knew the uir uf that gay chorus, but he had for gotten the wurds. Nothing could be imagined fresher, more gracious a"d penetrating than thesis distant voices in unison, coutrulling ihe light sounii of country life and the murmurs of the evening breiZis. The voicea drew neanr. Thu captain soon perceived the chil uren. There were four of them, and each had a basket gaily adornec with red roses. Their beaJs were wreathed with garlands of lila< blossoms. They looked like four cherubim descended from heaven but four very gay and polite cherubim, for they thanked, smiling with good grace, the farmers who filled their baskets with duck egg: and hen eggs.

The four children, when passing before the house of Captain Renand, seemed to deliberate for a moment, but the reputation of the captain evidently frightened them. They did not venture to sing their simple Christian song before the enemy of the priest and of God, and, hastening their steps, they gained a farm-house at some distance. The captain felt the blow and stamped on the ground. " Holy thunder," he ciiad, " I'm not the devil 1 It ia the cord, I'm sure, that has excited these caildren against me." Sime minntes afier, Captain Renaud was about shutting the window and going down to his dining-room, when a small voice, I fresher even than the preceding ones, was heard just beneath him. He bent hid eyes and saw a little boy of the Christian Brothers 'school, scarcely ten years old, little Guillaume, whom he bad lately saved f rum a furious beating at the hands of some five or six young scapegraces of the neighbourhood. Since that event the child showed himself grateful, and never failed to salute the old soldier when passing. The captain had learned that the mother of little Guillaume had been dead for the last two years, and that she was a distant cousin of his own. This, very naturally, increased hia sympathy for the boy. The latter had a garland of lilac like his friends, as well as ft basket decked with flowers on his right arm. Smiling and looking at the captain, be sang as follows : " Easter eggs we come te claim, Give them in the Saviour's name, And your hens throughout the year, Shall lay yon plenty far and near." The captain told the child tv come in. The old traditional song returned to his memory. He recollected that he used to go himself on the quest for Easter eggs in hia youth, when he had his mother still with him. " I thank you for coming," he said to little Guillaume. " You haven't done like your comrades. You haven't been afraid of me. But I am not a bad man, by any means. Put this in your basket. Your mother will buy eggs for you. But, as I think of it, you are like myself, poor child ; you have no longer either father or mother. You are an orphan, Who takes care of you ? who feeds you ? who clothes you ? " " Monsieur le cure," replied the child. The captain was pensive for a moment ; then abruptly : " Tell me, my little fellow, do you know where the cemetery is? " " Yes, captain." " Will you bring me to it 1 " "With pleasure," replied Guillaume, without hesitation. The captain and the boy took their way across the fields. In a few minutes they reached the boundary wall, which was surmounted oy a large wooden cross. " We must go to the gate," said Guillaume. " No," returned the captain,; " I don't care to be seen. I will climb over the wall and help you over afterwards, if you will follow ! me." The captain stood oa tip-toe and cast his eyes o»er the cemetery. His further progress was arrested for the moment by an unexpected sight. The old priest was kneeling piously on a tomb and praying ! with fervour. Captain Renaud waited until he left ; then, with extraordinary agility, he scaled the wall, while carrying in bis robust arms little Guillaume, still with the lilac garland on his head, and i holding hia flower-wreathed basket. "Do you know," asked the captain, trembling, "where my i mother's grave is ? " " Yes, captain, it's beside the big'cross yonder, under the willow." " Bring me to it, my child." The boy took the captain's hand without ceremony and led him ! to the grave, where, some minutes before, tha cure of the parish had ' been pray iug. The captain remarked the coincidence, perceived that a branch of palm ha l been lately placed on the headstone, and strongly moved, ' troubled even to the depths of his soul, began gnawing his moustache. ■ A remains of human respect prevented him yet from praying. But i the child had more courage, or, at least, more faith. He kneltjquietly *- and recited his Pater. 1 Hearing this little voice, the captain felt himself conquered. He t fell subbing on the moss on the grave. r " My poor mother ! " he cried in a voice of anguiah, " you are 8 then here ! " 1 But the child looked at him with surprise. 1 " You know well, captain, that's not so ; she is in heaven with the good God ! " i The next day, Easter Sunday at ten o'clock, the parish, gathered 'f together in its entirety to celebrate the glorious resurrection of the Saviour cf the world, Was very much surprised indeed to see Captain 3 Benaud enter in his full uniform as a French officer, with three '■'>> crosses on his breast, his head high and lofty, as becomes a soldier, but without pride and without haughtiness. With his milin tary step he crossed the nave and sat, hiding as well as he could his deep emotion, in the first row, in the place of his mother, c Near him sat little Guillaume, whom he seimed to have adopted. i- A joyful thrill ran through the crowd, Sacristan Buron, in his '« agitation, made mistakes in ringing the bell. It is tuch a great joy, r- oven here below, in a Christian, parish, when a sinner reconciles himself frankly with his God 1 i- After the Holy Office, the cur 6, whose emotion waß visible to all, la made a short discourse on the resurrection, and announced that a Mass would ba Bung after the festivals for the repose of the soul of 1- Mme. Renaud. d When the sacred ceremonies were concluded, the captain, always ie attended by his little protege, appeared on the public square, and n, shook hands joyfully with a crowd of worthy people, who up to this g feared and avoided him. The old cur 6 came, m his turn. Captain ?s Renaud rushed to meet him with outstretched hands and tears of jay in his eyes.

♦' Ah 1 Monsieur le cure t " ha cried, " when God wills the happiness of arrogant men like me, see what little means he employs— this child, the burden of an old song, and a prayer on a grave." " That is His great secret, captain," replied the old priest. " Let us thank and bless Him, and then eat our Easter egg?.