‘We will go away,’ she answered humbly and sadly. ‘Indeed, I want to go. Man or ghost, whatever you are, have patience for a few days and we shall be gone.’

‘And where can you go?’ said the old priest. ‘Wherever you go it will be the same thing. Take rather the advice of one who knows what he is talking about and let your Paul follow his destiny. Let him know the woman, otherwise the same thing will befall him that befell me. When I was young I would have nothing to do with women, nor with any other kind of pleasure. I only thought of winning Paradise, and I failed to perceive that Paradise is here on earth. When I did perceive it, it was too late: my arm could no longer reach up to gather the fruit of the tree and my knees would not bend that I might quench my thirst at the spring. So then I began to drink wine, to smoke a pipe and to play cards with all the rascals of the place. You call them rascals, but I call them honest lads who enjoy life as they find it. It does one good to be in their company, it diffuses a little warmth and merriment, like the company of boys on a holiday. The only difference is that it is always holiday for them, and therefore they are even merrier and more careless than the boys, who cannot forget that they must soon go back to school.’

While he was talking thus the mother thought to herself:

‘He is only saying these things in order to persuade me to leave my Paul alone and let him be damned. He has been sent by his friend and master, the Devil, and I must be on my guard.’

Yet, in spite of herself, she listened to him readily and found herself almost agreeing with what he said. She reflected that, in spite of all her efforts, Paul too might ‘take a holiday,’ and instinctively her mother’s heart instantly sought excuses for him.

‘You may be right,’ she said with increased sadness and humility, which now, however, was partly pretence. ‘I am only a poor, ignorant woman and don’t understand very much: but one thing I am sure of, that God sent us into the world to suffer.’

‘God sent us into the world to enjoy it. He sends suffering to punish us for not having understood how to enjoy, and that is the truth, you fool of a woman! God created the world with all its beauty and gave it to man for his pleasure: so much the worse for him if he does not understand! But why should I trouble to explain this to you – all I mind about is turning you out of this place, you and your Paul, and so much the worse for you if you want to stop!’

‘We are going, never fear, we are going very soon. That I can promise you, for it’s my wish, too.’