Wichita eagle., 1889-07-11
THE son OF A WIDOW.

One evening of the last winter the Able
Faber, the worthy cure of the old church
OF Saint Medard, Paris, struggled agains
the furious blasts under spread UNI
brella and painfully fought his way along
the Rue Mouffetard on his road to the
holy sanctuary. Very sure in his OWL
mind that he was uselessly disturbing
himself on this stormy night, he was
deeply regretting the heap Of blazing logs
he had quilted in his little lodging in the
Rue Lhomonde, also that Bollaadist folio
lying open upon the table By the side
Of his horn trimmed spectacies.
But it was Saturday evening, the day
of all days when the old widows and
work women OF his parish, who gained
their living by cleaning in the neighbor-
hood or collecting their little pensions,
came TO seek absolUtion from him in
order to commune on the morrow. He
could not, therefore, this honest priest,
dispense with the necessity that required
him to install himself in his oaken box
and TO open, like a prompt cashier, the
wicket to his faithful flock The confes-
sional, as every one knows, is kind of
paradisaical savings bank for the weekly
depositing of veniai sins.
The Able Faber was all the more
averse to going out on this special Satur-
day evening because il was the weekly
pay day of all the world, and generally,
at such times, the Rue Mouffetard was
an ant hill Of people, and Of people but
iii disposed to the priestly soutane. It
was good to be a man of God, ga holy
man" as his parishioners called him, but
the Able Faber did not find it the less
ldispleasing to lower his eyes before pain
ful sights or to have in his ears the oaths
and foul language caught in passing.
There was, moreover, a certain liquor
shop which the good able particularly
detested, shop all red and afanne with
gas jets, sending out hot and alcoholic
odors through its open door, and with
row upon row of casks and barrels orna-
nlented with placarSs labeled ''Ab-
sinthe," ''Bitters," Madeira" '.Ver-
mouth" eau de Vie," whilst upright
before the counter band of drinkers in
cap and blouse saluted him as he filed
along the pavements with a Here!
Herei Your Holinessl" distinctly of
fensive.
! Thiseyening, however, the bad weather
had made the streets deserted, and the
able arrived at the threshold Of the
church without disturbance, dipped his
finger IN the waiting benitier, made the
sign of the cross, and with a brief rev.
erence to the main altar turned his face
In the direction OF the confessional.
No, it was not for nothing that he had
come out in the wind and rama peni-
tent was there before him.
/ a male penitent! A most rare and in
frequent visitor to the confessional of
Saint Medardl But this time it was no
illusion of the senses with the worthy
able, he saw him plainly under the red
light of the lamp swinging from the
nave of the chapel, and still more clearly
the short white blouse and the nail stud
ded sandals of this kneeling man.
3 Some workman, doubtless, who had
kept his simple peasants faith and the
proper habits Of practical religion.
Nevertheless, and of this the Able Faber
was very sure, the confession he was go
ing to hear would be like all the others.
as commonplace as that of the cook of
the Rue de Ia Monge, who accused her
self of padding the bottom of her ba6-
kets, but did not dream of restitution.
The priest even smiled a little rs he
recalled the usual formula of the young
faubourgienne who came TO demand a
billet of confession preparatory to mar
riage on the morrow:
Il have not killed, have not stolen;
as for the rest, my father, question me.'
Naturally the Able Faber passed into
his box with peaceful tranquility, and
with no other emotion drew aside the
little curtain of green serge that screened
the wicket
M. lie Cure" began deep voice that
sought in vain to soften the harshness of
tone, IN. lie Cure"-
Il am no longer q cure, my friend"
the able in return, "begin
with your confiteor and call me my
The kneeling figure, whose face, bathed |
In shadow, the able was unable TO see, |
obeyed instructions, stumbled through /
the prayer. which he seemed 10 find diff .
Guilty in recalling, and then, after mo-
ments silence, and as if struggling with .
some strange emotion, commenced his +
confession.
Pardon me, NJ. lie Cure" said he, "my /
father. should say, if do not speak, as /
l should, but it is twenty years since last /
] l1nelt in the confessional. You know
how it is with q man in Paris and who
Is not bad like the others. told myself
that God knows all, need not go. But
today, tonight, NJ. lie Cure, l have that
upon my conscience too heavy to bear
alone. have come, then, TO you-you
must share it with me, this burden, for
have killed man.'
Killed a man, The able started upon
his stool 4 murderer! this man before
him! Then there would be no more dis
fractions of mind for him during the COM
inc mountaineering, Nop,ore listanin,