That worthy priest was the brother of a warden of Saint-Sulpice, who had often observed this man gazing at his child, and the scar on his cheek, and the large tears in his eyes.
That man, who had so manly an air, yet who was weeping like a woman, had struck the warden. That face had clung to his mind.
One day, having gone to Vernon to see his brother, he had encountered Colonel Pontmercy on the bridge, and had recognized the man of Saint-Sulpice. The warden had mentioned the circumstance to the cure, and both had paid the colonel a visit, on some pretext or other.
This visit led to others.
The colonel, who had been extremely reserved at first, ended by opening his heart, and the cure and the warden finally came to know the whole history, and how Pontmercy was sacrificing his happiness to his child''s future. This caused the cure to regard him with veneration and tenderness, and the colonel, on his side, became fond of the cure.
And moreover, when both are sincere and good, no men so penetrate each other, and so amalgamate with each other, as an old priest and an old soldier. At bottom, the man is the same.
The one has devoted his life to his country here below, the other to his country on high; that is the only difference.∴本∴作∴品∴由∴思∴兔∴網∴提∴供∴線∴上∴閱∴讀∴
Twice a year, on the first of January and on St. George''s day, Marius wrote duty letters to his father, which were dictated by his aunt, and which one would have pronounced to be copied from some formula; this was all that M. Gillenormand tolerated; and the father answered them with very tender letters which the grandfather thrust into his pocket unread.