Therefore, the impression was terrible and
profound; on the day following the execution, and on many succeeding days, the
Bishop appeared to be crushed.
The almost
violent serenity of the funereal moment had disappeared; the phantom of social
justice tormented him.
He, who
generally returned from all his deeds with a radiant satisfaction, seemed to be
reproaching himself. At times he talked to himself, and stammered lugubrious
monologues in a low voice.
This is one
which his sister overheard one evening and preserved:
"I did
not think that it was so monstrous. It is wrong to become absorbed in the
divine law to such a degree as not to perceive human law.
Death
belongs to God alone. By what right do men touch that unknown thing?"
In course of
time these impressions weakened and probably vanished. Nevertheless, it was
observed that the Bishop thenceforth avoided passing the place of execution.
M. Myriel
could be summoned at any hour to the bedside of the sick and dying.
He did not
ignore the fact that therein lay his greatest duty and his greatest labor.
Widowed and
orphaned families had no need to summon him; he came of his own accord.
He
understood how to sit down and hold his peace for long hours beside the man who
had lost the wife of his love, of the mother who had lost her child.
As he knew
the moment for silence he knew also the moment for speech.
Oh,
admirable consoler!
He sought
not to efface sorrow by forgetfulness, but to magnify and dignify it by hope.
He said:--
"Have a
care of the manner in which you turn towards the dead. Think not of that which
perishes.
Gaze
steadily.
You will
perceive the living light of your well-beloved dead in the depths of
heaven." He knew that faith is wholesome.
He sought to counsel and
calm the despairing man, by pointing out to him the resigned man, and to
transform the grief which gazes upon a grave by showing him the grief which
fixes its gaze upon a star.
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