Chapter 25 Chapter 25 The Seminary

He saw the gilded iron cross on the door from a distance, approached slowly, and his legs seemed to be out of order. "This is the hell on earth from which you can't get out!" Finally he rang the doorbell.The bell seemed to echo in a remote place.Ten minutes later, a pale man in black came to open the door for him.Julien looked at him, and immediately lowered his eyes.The gatekeeper had a strange appearance.The eyeballs were protruding, green, and round like cat's eyes; the lids around the eyelids did not move, implying the impossibility of any sympathy; the lips were thin, semicircular, and wrapped around the protruding teeth.However, this appearance does not show evil, but the kind of utter indifference, which is far more terrifying to young people than evil.The only emotion that Julien could guess from a quick glance at this long, sincere face was an extreme contempt for what people might say to him that had nothing to do with the interests of heaven.

Julien cheered up, raised his eyes, and said in a voice trembling with the beating of his heart that he would like to see Monsieur Pirard, the director of the seminary.The man in black didn't speak, but motioned to follow him.They climbed two flights of stairs, wide stairs with wooden balustrades, warped stair-boards that sloped in the exact opposite direction from the wall as if they were about to collapse, and a small door with a cemetery sign on it. Large cross in white wood painted black.The door opened with difficulty, and the porter let him into a low, gloomy room with whitewashed walls and two large paintings, blackened with age.Julien was left alone; he was petrified, his heart beating violently; he would have been happy if he had dared to cry, and a deathly silence reigned over the house.

A quarter of an hour later, after what seemed to him a whole day, the porter with a hideous face appeared at a doorway at the other end of the room, still refusing to speak, but beckoning him to go on, and he entered a room even worse than the one just before. Big and poorly lit.The walls are also painted white, but there is no furniture.Only in the corner near the door, as Julien passed, there was a white wooden bed, two straw chairs, and a small firwood armchair without a cushion.At the other end of the room, by a small window with yellowed glass and a dirty vase on the sill, he found a man in a worn priest's robe sitting at a table; There were a lot of square pieces of paper, and he picked them up one by one, wrote a few words on them, and arranged them on the table.He did not notice that Julien had entered, and Julien stood still in the middle of the room, while the porter left him there for a few days, and then went out and closed the door.

Ten minutes passed like this, the man in the rags kept writing.Julien was so excited and frightened that he seemed about to collapse at once. A philosopher will say, perhaps he is mistaken: it is the strong impression that ugliness makes on a soul born to love beauty. The writer raised his head; Julien noticed it after a while, and even after he saw it, he remained motionless, as if he could not bear the terrible look on him, and his soul was driven away.Julien's eyes were dim, and he could vaguely see a long face, which was covered with red spots, but the forehead still showed a deathly pallor.Between the red cheeks and the white forehead gleamed two small, black eyes that would have scared the courage of the most courageous minds.The broad outline of the forehead was framed by a thick, straight, jet-black hair.

"Come closer, please, is that okay?" the man finally spoke, impatiently. Julien walked forward unsteadily, looking as if he was about to fall, with a paler face than ever before, and finally got down three steps away from the small white wooden table covered with square papers. "Closer," said the man. Julien walked forward again, stretching out his hands as if looking for something to support him. "your name?" "Julien Sorel." "You are very late," said the man, fixing him again with that terrible look. Julien couldn't stand the look, stretched out his hand as if to support something, and fell straight on the floor.

The man rang the bell.Julien could only use his eyes, he had no strength to move, and he could hear footsteps approaching. Someone picked him up and seated him in a small white wood armchair.He heard the terrible man say to the porter: "It looks like he's suffering from epilepsy, and it's all over now." Julien opened his eyes, the red-faced man wrote again, and the porter had disappeared. "I must take courage," says our hero, "and above all to hide my feelings (he felt a strong nausea); and God knows what people will think of me if something happens to me." At last the man stopped writing Yes, looking sideways at Julien:

"Can you answer my question?" "Yes, sir," replied Julien feebly. "Ah! This is wonderful." The man in black stood up halfway, opened the drawer of the vertical wooden table with a squeak, and looked impatiently for a letter.He found it, sat down slowly, and looked at Julien again with an air that seemed to take away what was left of Julien's life: "You were recommended by Mr. Chelan. He is the best parish priest in the parish, the only virtuous person in the world, and my friend for thirty years." "Ah! I have the honor of speaking with M. Pirard," said Julien in a half-dead voice.

"That goes without saying," the dean of the seminary gave him a nod, and looked at him angrily. His small eyes suddenly doubled in brightness, and the muscles at the corners of his mouth moved involuntarily.That's what a tiger looks like when it savors the pleasure of devouring its prey beforehand. "Chelan's letter is very short," he seemed to be talking to himself. "Smart people don't need to talk too much. People nowadays can't write short messages." He read aloud: "I present to you Julien Sorel of our parish, whom I have baptized for almost twenty years, the son of a wealthy carpenter who gave him nothing. Julien will be the grape of God An excellent worker in the garden. Not lacking in memory, understanding, and intellect. Will his ambitions be enduring? Sincere?"

"Sincerely!" repeated the Abbe Pirard, looking at Julien with an air of astonishment, but the abbe's eyes were not so inhuman as before. "Sincerely!" he repeated in a low voice, and read again: "I beg you to give Julien a fellowship; he will get it by passing the necessary examinations. I have taught him a little theology, the old and salutary theology of Boschucam, Arnaud, Fleury. If the man does not If it suits, please send it back to me immediately; the director of the beggar's asylum you know well offers eight hundred francs to hire him as tutor to the children.—My heart is at peace, thank God. I am used to Terrible blow. Valeetme ama."

Father Pilar read the signature, slowed down his voice, sighed, and pronounced the word "Cheran". "He is calm," said he, "and indeed his virtue deserves the reward; and may God reward me in the same way in that day." He looked up at the sky and made the sign of the cross.At this holy gesture, Julien felt that the extreme terror which had chilled him as soon as he entered the house began to ease. "I have three hundred and twenty-one men who desire the most sacred profession," said Father Pirard at last, sternly but not viciously; "only seven or eight were recommended by men like the Abbe Chélan, You will therefore be the ninth of these three hundred and twenty-one. My protection, however, is neither favoritism nor appeasement, but redoubled concern and severity for iniquity. Go and lock the door."

Julien walked with difficulty, but managed not to fall.He noticed a small window next to the door, which opened out onto the fields.He looked at the trees, as if seeing old friends, and felt very comfortable. "Loquerisenlinguamlatinam? (Can you speak Latin?)" asked the Abbe Pirard when he returned. "Ita, pateroptime (yes, my illustrious priest)," replied Julien, recovering a little.Of course, for the past hour he had felt that there was no one in the world less brilliant than Father Pirard. Conversation continued in Latin.Gradually the expression of the priest's eyes softened, and Julien regained some composure. "How weak I am," thought he, "to be overwhelmed by the appearance of virtue: this man is nothing but a liar like M. Maslon." Julien was glad to have almost all his money hidden in his boot. . The Abbe Pirard examined Julien's theology and was amazed at the breadth of his knowledge.I was even more surprised when I asked about the Bible in particular.But when he asked about the teachings of those popes, he found that Julien was almost ignorant of the names of St. Jerome, St. Augustine, St. Bonaventure, St. Basil, and others. "In fact," thought the Abbe Pirard, "that is the fatal Protestantism I have always accused Cheran of. A deep knowledge of the Bible, too deep." (Julien has just touched on this subject without asking, on the actual date of writing of Genesis and the Pentateuch.) "This endless debate on the Bible," thought the Abbe Pirard, "leads to nothing but personal study, the most abominable Protestant doctrine? And besides this frivolous learning, Nothing is known about popes who can counteract this tendency." When asked about the authority of the Pope, the dean of the seminary was even more astonished. He thought that Julien would answer some precepts of the ancient French church, but who would have thought that the young man would betray Mr. de Meistre to him? Book. "This Chéran is a queer man," thought the Abbe Pirard; "is he being shown this book in order to teach him how to laugh at it?" He questioned Julien to see if he really believed M. de Maistre's theory, but in vain.The young man answered only from memory.From this moment Julien was indeed very good, and he felt himself in control.After a long examination, he felt that Mr. Pilar's harshness towards him was only a show.In fact, the dean of the seminary has set himself the principle of being solemn and stern when dealing with students of theology for fifteen years, otherwise he would have embraced Julien in the name of logic. How clear, accurate and clear did he think Julien's answer . "A man of spirit and soundness, indeed," he said to himself, "only cor-pusdebile." "Do you often fall like this?" he asked Julien in French, pointing to the floor. "For the first time in my life, the face of the porter frightens me," said Julien, blushing like a child. Father Pirard was almost smiling. "Such is the effect of pomp in the world; it seems you have grown accustomed to the smiling face, which is the real theater of lies. The truth is grim, sir. And is not our task here grim? You must take care that your Conscience is wary of this weakness: too sensitive to the useless beauty of appearances. "If I recommend you," said the Abbe Pirard, returning to the Latin with evident pleasure, "if you are not recommended by someone like the Abbe Chélan, I will use the pompous manner to which you in this world are too accustomed. Words have spoken to you. I will tell you that the full bursary you are asking for is the hardest thing in the world to get. But the abbe Chelan worked apostolicly for fifty-six years, if he could not command a whole in the seminary A bursary, then he gets paid too little." Having said these words, the Abbe Pirard warned Julien not to join any society or secret order without his consent. "On my honor," said Julien, with the ecstasy of an honest man. For the first time the dean of the seminary smiled. "The word is inappropriate here," he said, "it reminds too much of the vanity of men in the world, which leads them to commit so many mistakes and often sins. According to St. Pius V's Unam Ecclesiam The seventeenth paragraph of the decree, you should have the obligation of absolute obedience to me. I am the elder in your church. In this house, I hear, my dear son, that is to obey. How much money do you have?" "As expected," Julien thought, "that's why I called my dear son." "Thirty-five francs, my abbe." "Write down carefully how the money is used, and report to me." This difficult interview lasted three hours; Julien called for the porter. "Put Julien Sorel in room 103," said the Abbe Pirard to the man. Out of great respect, he let Julien live alone in a room. "Carry his trunk," he added. Julien lowered his eyes, and saw that his trunk was at the door; he had been looking at it for three hours without recognizing it. Arriving at Room 103, which was a small room 18 feet square on the top floor of the house, Julien noticed that the room was facing the city wall, and beyond the city wall one could see the beautiful plain, with the River Doub flowing between it and the city. . "What a charming sight!" exclaimed Julien; thus he was talking to himself, but could not feel what the words expressed.During the short time he had been in Besançon, his sensations had been so strong that they had exhausted him physically.He sat down on the only wooden chair in the small room near the window, and immediately fell asleep soundly.He heard neither the supper bell nor the beatitude bell; others had forgotten him. The next morning, when the first rays of sunlight woke him up, he found himself lying on the floor.