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the least: it is Providence which has done it all; it is because
it wishes it so to be, evidently. Have I the right to disarrange
what it has arranged? What do I ask now? Why should I
meddle? It does not concern me; what! I am not satisfied:
but what more do I want? The goal to which I have aspired
for so many years, the dream of my nights, the object of
my prayers to Heaven,—security,—I have now attained; it is
God who wills it; I can do nothing against the will of God,
and why does God will it? In order that I may continue what
I have begun, that I may do good, that I may one day be
a grand and encouraging example, that it may be said at
last, that a little happiness has been attached to the pen-
ance which I have undergone, and to that virtue to which I
have returned. Really, I do not understand why I was afraid,
a little while ago, to enter the house of that good cure, and
to ask his advice; this is evidently what he would have said
to me: It is settled; let things take their course; let the good
God do as he likes!’
Thus did he address himself in the depths of his own
conscience, bending over what may be called his own abyss;
he rose from his chair, and began to pace the room: ‘Come,’
said he, ‘let us think no more about it; my resolve is taken!’
but he felt no joy.
Quite the reverse.
One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an
idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore: the
sailor calls it the tide; the guilty man calls it remorse; God
upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.
After the expiration of a few moments, do what he