— a faint, indefinable shadow of dread was all that
remained of his unreasoning terror. And although
this indefinable shadow ^ of dread did not leave him,
as had done the more violent emotion, he persuaded
himself that it might very well be that everyone felt
such a dread at Communion —so solemn arid so
spiritually vital an event, and those who received
their Lord, so unworthy. But one did not care to
speak of such things, they were far too private and
far too sacred.
His terror — that was not quite so easy to explain;
yet he strove with all his might to explain it. He had
felt very tired; perhaps he had been ill, perhaps he
had even had a high fever . . . Loup would get a
high fever at times and feel queer . . . perhaps he,
Christophe, had been just feeling queer and had not
known that he was actually ill because he was so
unaccustomed to illness. Then would come that
thought of the divinity of Christ, so familiar and in
consequence so reassuring. Jesus Christ, true man
. . . yes, but also true God; and he, Christophe
Benedit, less than nothing, a schoolboy born and
brought up in Provence, impossible therefore that
the Crucifixion in the church should have any personal
meaning beyond the promise of spiritual salvation.
That was how he had always seen it before, and that
was how he must see it again — as a symbol of his
spiritual salvation.
'Jesus Christ/ he would mutter, cthe Son of God
. . . not as I am, but the veritable Son of God . . .
Ah yes, that undoubtedly makes all the difference!5
But one day he must suddenly catch his breath,
while his heart seemed to stumble and then stand
still, for clear and distinct as the notes of a bugle,
as the warning of the triple Communion bell, there
leapt into his combative, unwilling' mind the mo-
mentous words: 'But as many as received Him, to
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