The Bishop Bogged Down and The Ghost

THE BISHOP BOGGED DOWN

It is a rather peculiar thing that some pious people have the idea that certain letters of the alphabet arranged in such and such a way can both, in one of these senses, infinitely please the Lord, and taken in the other, cruelly offend Him; and this idea is undoubtedly one most pleasing to all those who offend the devout gentleman.

Among these people was a former bishop of Mirepoix who passed for a saint at the beginning of this century; going one day to see the bishop of Damiers, his carriage ran into the horrible roads that separate these two cities: no matter how hard one tried, the horses no longer would move.

"My lord," said the fulminant coachman at the end, "as long as you are there, my horses will not advance."

"And why not?" said the bishop.

"It is because I must swear, and Your Grandeur is opposed to it; but we will lie here if He will not allow me to do so."

"Well, well," said the gentle bishop, making a sign of the cross, "swear then, my child...but just a little."

The coachman swears, the horses pull, the bishop arrives at his destintion without accident.

THE GHOST

Of all the things in the world in which philosophers profess the least faith, the first and foremost is ghosts; however, the extraordinary experience I am going to report, a report bearing the signature of several witnesses and recorded in respectable archives, if this happening, I say (and according to these titles and according to the authenticity it had in its time, can become capable of being believed), well then: it will be necessary, in spite of the scepticism of our Stoics, to persuade oneself that, even if all the tales of ghosts are not true, at least there are some very extraordinary things about this tale, rendering it very likely a real occurrence.

A fat woman, Madame Dallemand, whom all Paris knew at the time as a gay, frank, naive and good companion to have, had been living for more than twenty years as a widow with a certain Ménou, a businessman who lived near Saint-Jean-en-Grève. Mrs. Dallemand was one day at dinner at the home of a Mrs. Duplatz, a woman of her station with whom she kept company, when in the middle of a game that had begun when she was leaving the table, a lackey came to ask Mrs. Dallemand to go to a neighbouring room, as a person of her acquaintance urged her to speak to him on a matter as pressing as it was consequent; Mrs. Dallemand says that she would wait, that she did not want to disturb her party; the lackey comes back, and insists so much that the mistress of the house is the first to urge Mrs. Dallemand to go and see what hhe wants. She goes out and recognizes Ménou.

"What business, in such a hurry," she tells him, "can commit you to come and disturb me like this, in a house where you are not known?"

"Very essential business, madam," replied the broker, "and you must believe that it must so be, for me to have obtained from God permission to come and speak to you for the last time in my life..."

At these words, which did not betoken a very sensible man, Mrs. Dallemand became confused and, staring at her friend whom she had not seen for a few days, she became even more frightened when she saw he was pale and disfigured.

"What have you, sir," she said to him, "what are your motives and the state in which I see you, and the sinister things you say to me? Make clear to me as soon as you can, what has happened to you?"

"I have paid to nature the tribute that all men owe her, and I only complain that I have forgotten you in my last moments, and it is this fault, madam, for which I come to ask your pardon."

"But, sir, you are flogging a dead horse! There is no example of such folly!"

"Do not leave, madam, this unwelcome visit will not be long; I am near the term that the Lord has given me; therefore hear my last words, and we will leave each other for ever... I said to you, madam, I am dead, and soon you shall know the truth of what I am telling you. I have forgotten you in my will, and I have come to make amends for my fault. Take this key, and go to my house at once, and behind the wallpaper of my bed you will find an iron door, and you will open it with the key I give you, and you will take the money out of the cupboard which is locked by that door, which is unknown to my heirs, and is yours, and no one will dispute with you. Farewell, madam, do not follow me..."

And Menou disappeared.It is easy to imagine how troubled Mrs. Dallemand entered her friend's living room; it was impossible for her to hide the subject...

"The thing deserves to be recognized," said Mrs. Duplatz, "let's not waste a moment."

Picture, if you can: We ask for horses, we get in the car, we transport ourselves to Ménou's house...

He was lying in his coffin, just inside the door; the two women went up to the apartment; the master's friend, too well known to be refused, went through all the rooms she wanted, until she arrived at the one indicated. She found the iron door, opened it with the key that had been given to her, and recognized the treasure within.

These are undoubtedly proofs of friendship and gratitude, examples of which are not frequent and which, if those who return from the grave frighten us, must at least make us forgive the fears they may cause, in favor of their motives that lead them to those for whom they make an earthly appearance. .