Free Letters From My Windmill by Alphonse Daudet, Frederick Davies Page A

see a turning over there, at the far end?
You will find a silver door completely covered with black crosses….
On the right hand side…. When you knock, it will be opened unto
you…. Bye-bye! Be good and, above all, stay cheerful."
    * * * * *
    "And I kept on going … and kept on going. I was dead beat, and
covered in goose flesh; there was nothing to take my mind off things. A
small footpath, full of brambles, and shining rubies and hissing
snakes, led me to the silver door.
    "I knocked twice.
    "—Who is it? asked a hoarse, deathly voice.
    "—The priest of Cucugnan.
    "—Of…?
    "—Of Cucugnan.
    "—Ah!… Come in.
    "I entered. A great, beautiful angel, with wings as dark as the night,
a robe as radiant as the day, and a diamond key hanging at his waist,
was scratching something into a great book even thicker than
St.Peter's….
    "—Well, what do you want; do you have a question? said the angel.
    "—Dear angel of the Lord, I would like to know, I am dying to know, in
fact, if you have the Cucugnanians here?
    "—The?…
    "—The Cucugnanians, the people from Cucugnan…. I am their prior.
    "—Ah! Abbot Martin, is it?
    "—At your service, monsieur angel."
    * * * * *
    "—Cucugnan, you say….
    "The angel then opened his great book and leafed through it, licking
his finger to turn the page….
    "—Cucugnan, he gave a long sigh…. Monsieur Martin, we have no one
here in purgatory from Cucugnan.
    "—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! No one from Cucugnan! Oh, Good Lord! So,
where, forgive me, in heaven's name, are they, then?
    "—Well! holy man, they are in paradise. Where on earth did you expect
them to be?
    "—But I've just come from there.
    "—You've come from there!… And?
    "—And! They're not there!… Oh, dear Mother of God!
    "—What can I do monsieur priest? If they're neither in paradise not
purgatory, there is no half way house, they are….
    "—Holy Cross of Jesus, son of David! No, no, no, can it be?… Could
it be that the great St. Peter himself lied to me?… I never heard the
cock crow. Oh, we are lost! How can I possibly go to heaven if my flock
aren't there?
    "—Listen, my poor monsieur Martin, as you want to be sure about all
this, no matter what, and to see for yourself what you have to do to
turn things round, take that footpath, and run along it, if you know
how to run…. You will come across a large gate on the left. There, it
will all be made clear to you. And by God himself!
    "And the angel closed the door."
    * * * * *
    "It was a long pathway covered in red-hot embers. I staggered as if I
had been drinking; I stumbled at every single step; I was covered in
sweat, a drop on every single hair of my body, and I was gasping for
something to drink…. But, thanks to the sandals St. Peter lent me, I
didn't burn my feet.
    "After stumbling and limping along for some time, I saw a door on the
left…. No, it was more a gate, an enormous, yawning gate, like a huge
oven door. What a fantastic sight, my children! No one asked my name,
even there at the reception area. I went through the cavernous door in
batches, my brothers, just like you sinners as you go to the cabaret on
Sunday night.
    "I was sweating profusely, and yet frozen to the spot, I was trembling
fearfully. My hair stood on end. I smelt burning, roasting flesh,
something like the smell that spread around Cucugnan when Eli, the
marshal, burned the hoof of an old ass while shoeing it. I couldn't
breathe in that foetid, burning air; I heard a frightful clamour. There
was moaning, howling, cursing.
    "—You there! Are you coming in, or are you staying outside? scorned a
horned devil, prodding me with his fork.
    "—Me? I'm not going in. I am a friend of Almighty God.
    "—So, you're a friend of God…. Eh! You damned fool! What are you
doing here?…
    "—I have come…. Oh! don't bother me, I can hardly stand up…. I
have come … I have come from a far away … to humbly ask … if …
if, by any chance, you have someone here from