One day Mrs. Bagot told Trilby that her brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas Bagot, would much like to come and talk to her.

"Was that the gentleman who came with you to the studio in Paris?"

"Yes."

"Why, he's a clergyman, isn't he? What does he want to come and talk to _me_ about?"

"Ah! my dear child ..." said Mrs. Bagot, her eyes filling.

Trilby was thoughtful for a while, and then said: "I'm going to die, I suppose. Oh yes! oh yes! There's no mistake about that!"

"Dear Trilby, we are all in the hands of an Almighty Merciful G.o.d!" And the tears rolled down Mrs. Bagot's cheeks.

After a long pause, during which she gazed out of the window, Trilby said, in an abstracted kind of way, as though she were talking to herself: "Apres tout, c'est pas deja si raide, de claquer! J'en ai tant vus, qui ont pa.s.se par la! Au bout du fosse la culbute, ma foi!"

"What are you saying to yourself in French, Trilby? Your French is so difficult to understand!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon! I was thinking it's not so difficult to die, after all! I've seen such lots of people do it. I've nursed them, you know--papa and mamma and Jeannot, and Angele Boisse's mother-in-law, and a poor ca.s.seur de pierres, Colin Maigret, who lived in the Impa.s.se des Taupes St. Germain. He'd been run over by an omnibus in the Rue Vaugirard, and had to have both his legs cut off just above the knee.

They none of them seemed to mind dying a bit. They weren't a bit afraid!

_I'm_ not!

"Poor people don't think much of death. Rich people shouldn't either.

They should be taught when they're quite young to laugh at it and despise it, like the Chinese. The Chinese die of laughing just as their heads are being cut off, and cheat the executioner! It's all in the day's work, and we're all in the same boat--so who's afraid!"

"Dying is not all, my poor child! Are you prepared to meet your Maker face to face? Have you ever thought about G.o.d, and the possible wrath to come if you should die unrepentant?"

"Oh, but I sha'n't! I've been repenting all my life! Besides, there'll be no wrath for any of us--not even the worst! _Il y aura amnistie generale!_ Papa told me so, and he'd been a clergyman, like Mr. Thomas Bagot. I often think about G.o.d. I'm very fond of Him. One _must_ have something perfect to look up to and be fond of--even if it's only an idea!

"Though some people don't even believe He exists! Le pere Martin didn't--but, of course, _he_ was only a chiffonnier, and doesn't count.

"One day, though, Durien, the sculptor, who's very clever, and a very good fellow indeed, said:

"'Vois-tu, Trilby--I'm very much afraid He doesn't really exist, le bon Dieu! most unfortunately for _me_, for I _adore_ Him! I never do a piece of work without thinking how nice it would be if I could only please _Him_ with it!'

"And I've often thought, myself, how heavenly it must be to be able to paint, or sculpt, or make music, or write beautiful poetry, for that very reason!

"Why, once on a very hot afternoon we were sitting, a lot of us, in the court-yard outside la mere Martin's shop, drinking coffee with an old Invalide called Bastide Lendormi, one of the Vieille Garde, who'd only got one leg and one arm and one eye, and everybody was very fond of him.

Well, a model called Mimi la Salope came out of the Mont-de-piete opposite, and Pere Martin called out to her to come and sit down, and gave her a cup of coffee, and asked her to sing.

"She sang a song of Beranger's, about Napoleon the Great, in which it says:

"'Parlez-nous de lui, grandmere!

Grandmere, parlez-nous de lui!'

I suppose she sang it very well, for it made old Bastide Lendormi cry; and when Pere Martin _blague'd_ him about it, he said,

"'C'est egal, voyez-vous! to sing like that is _to pray_!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'TO SING LIKE THAT IS _TO PRAY_!'"]

"And then I thought how lovely it would be if _I_ could only sing like Mimi la Salope, and I've thought so ever since--just to _pray_!"

"_What!_ Trilby? if _you_ could only sing like--Oh, but never mind, I forgot! Tell me, Trilby--do you ever pray to Him, as other people pray?"

"Pray to Him? Well, no--not often--not in words and on my knees and with my hands together, you know! _Thinking's_ praying, very often--don't you think so? And so's being sorry and ashamed when one's done a mean thing, and glad when one's resisted a temptation, and grateful when it's a fine day and one's enjoying one's self without hurting any one else! What is it but praying when you try and bear up after losing all you cared to live for? And very good praying too! There can be prayers without words just as well as songs, I suppose; and Svengali used to say that songs without words are the best!

"And then it seems mean to be always asking for things. Besides, you don't get them any the faster that way, and that shows!

"La mere Martin used to be always praying. And Pere Martin used always to laugh at her; yet he always seemed to get the things _he_ wanted oftenest!

"_I_ prayed once, very hard indeed! I prayed for Jeannot not to die!"

"Well--but how do you _repent_, Trilby, if you do not humble yourself, and pray for forgiveness on your knees?"

"Oh, well--I don't exactly know! Look here, Mrs. Bagot, I'll tell you the lowest and meanest thing I ever did...."

(Mrs. Bagot felt a little nervous.)

"I'd promised to take Jeannot on Palm-Sunday to St. Philippe du Roule, to hear l'abbe Bergamot. But Durien (that's the sculptor, you know) asked me to go with him to St. Germain, where there was a fair, or something; and with Mathieu, who was a student in law; and a certain Victorine Letellier, who--who was Mathieu's mistress, in fact. And I went on Sunday morning to tell Jeannot that I couldn't take him.

"He cried so dreadfully that I thought I'd give up the others and take him to St. Philippe, as I'd promised. But then Durien and Mathieu and Victorine drove up and waited outside, and so I didn't take him, and went with them, and I didn't enjoy anything all day, and was miserable.

"They were in an open carriage with two horses; it was Mathieu's treat; and Jeannot might have ridden on the box by the coachman, without being in anybody's way. But I was afraid they didn't want him, as they didn't say anything, and so I didn't dare ask--and Jeannot saw us drive away, and I _couldn't_ look back! And the worst of it is that when we were half-way to St. Germain, Durien said, 'What a pity you didn't bring Jeannot!' and they were all sorry I hadn't.

"It was six or seven years ago, and I really believe I've thought of it almost every day, and sometimes in the middle of the night!

"Ah! and when Jeannot was dying! and when he was dead--the remembrance of that Palm-Sunday!

"And if _that's_ not repenting, I don't know what is!"

"Oh, Trilby, what nonsense! _that's_ nothing; good heavens!--putting off a small child! I'm thinking of far worse things--when you were in the quartier latin, you know--sitting to painters and sculptors.... Surely, so attractive as you are...."

"Oh yes.... I know what you mean--it was horrid, and I was frightfully ashamed of myself; and it wasn't amusing a bit; _nothing_ was, till I met your son and Taffy and dear Sandy McAlister! But then it wasn't deceiving or disappointing anybody, or hurting their feelings--it was only hurting myself!

"Besides, all that sort of thing, in women, is punished severely enough down here, G.o.d knows! unless one's a Russian empress like Catherine the Great, or a grande dame like lots of them, or a great genius like Madame Rachel or George Sand!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'THE REMEMBRANCE OF THAT PALM-SUNDAY!'"]

"Why, if it hadn't been for that, and sitting for the figure, I should have felt myself good enough to marry your son, _although_ I was only a blanchisseuse de fin--you've said so yourself!

"And I should have made him a good wife--of that I feel sure. He wanted to live all his life at Barbizon, and paint, you know; and didn't care for society in the least. Anyhow, I should have been equal to such a life as that! Lots of their wives are blanchisseuses over there, or people of that sort; and they get on very well indeed, and n.o.body troubles about it!

"So I think I've been pretty well punished--richly as I've deserved to!"

"Trilby, have you ever been confirmed?"

"I forget. I fancy not!"

"Oh dear, oh dear! And do you know about our blessed Saviour, and the Atonement and the Incarnation and the Resurrection...."