A Kiss From The Governess

I must shudder at my own foolishness from time to time and right now in this moment is no different. I had started this diary with the hopes that it would help me concentrate my thoughts, which have a tendency to wander when I have a moment to myself to think a little. Perhaps it would become an extension of prayer, if you will, a way of easing the difficulties of verbal expressions that cause me to stumble so much. Instead I have been made to realize how much of my life is taken up by pitiful trifles that, at one time, I might have been able to dismiss much more easily. The Lord will take on all of our troubles and scorn nothing but why bother recording the banal day-to-day happenings that are undeserving of serious thought? In any case, I will continue writing and be done with diary keeping for good once this notebook has been filled.

I have long been hesitate to write of Mlle. Louise, the governess of the Château, in this diary save for the few conversations we've had concerning Mlle. Chantal's brutish manners and ill treatment of the aforementioned lady. She comes to Mass every day in distress though she'll quickly flee the church before I have a chance to speak to her and has chosen another priest (Curé de Heuchin) as her confessor. Loneliness is a terrible burden, it is something I am well acquainted with and I feel compelled to say something to her. In a silly but overwhelming desire to comfort her, I wish to speak but my words fail. I think it is a mighty joke that God so chose me to be one of His priests and yet He has chosen one who is cursed with an inability to express himself clearly with words. The depth of distress I feel over being unable to help Mlle. Louise disturbs me. I would feel sympathy for anyone in her shoes and try to counsel them, it is part and parcel of my vocation, but I take Mlle. Louise's pain so personally and this unnerves me.

I admit that I am fond of Mlle. Louise and enjoy her company immensely. I had always thought my colleagues overly paranoid for the way that they keep women at arm's-length away, somehow fearing that being friends with a woman would spell their fall from grace. Perhaps they were right all along and I, in my naivete, left my heart unguarded. Now I must contend with thoughts and feelings that certainly are unbecoming of one of the Lord's servants.

Mlle. Louise has occupied my thoughts for some time and now she invades my dreams and whatever peace and quiet that I try to devote to God. I think of her eyes, her hair, the cadence of her voice, the way she walks, her hands which have never seen a day of hard work, her devotion to her late mother and God, her perfume, her interest in poetry, her terrible loneliness and her compassion. Sometimes I swear her eyes become lively and bright when she sees me and her voice softens when speaking to me but then I wonder if I am just imagining all of this. There are times I suspect that her dedication to the parish is partially due to my presence but then realize how selfish and ridiculous of a thought that is.

I am terrified of lust, that demon that causes the fall of so many men and women, but I am more terrified of the way Mlle. Louise overwhelms my thoughts beyond my lustful imaginings. The carnality of the body will fade away but the whims of the hearts will linger painfully long after they had lost their welcome. Even if I may desire to become one with her, it is her affection and approval that I find myself pathetically vying for the most. I have no business concerning myself with hers or anyone else's opinions for my focus should be on God and this reminder oft sends me to bed at night feeling quite angry and frustrated with myself.

Is this what falling in love feels like?

My first instinct is to push her away, cut off as much contact as humanly possible and be done with these wretched feelings but that would be selfish and cruel of me. I cannot hurt her and send her reeling away into the world, wounded and resentful. I may be a weak man but I am a priest above all else and my obligations to my parish must come first. I cannot turn anyone away simply because of my selfish, greedy desires. I cannot bear the idea of being yet another source of anguish in Mlle. Louise's life when she already has enough on her plate as it is.

Mlle. Louise had come to visit me unannounced at the presbytery yesterday and it is this visit that has prompted me to write in this infernal diary of my mine. I am glad that no living soul shall ever see these pages for the humiliation and scandal I would face is something I would likely never recover from. My reputation, though poor as it is already, would be beyond redemption in the eyes of decent, Catholic society. I would end up disgraced like my old schoolmate Louis Dufréty or worse off than him!

The lady came to my door with a sombre disposition. I was pleased that she had appeared on my doorstep unexpectedly but my joy gave way to concern as I quickly realized that she likely wasn't here for social pleasantries. I wondered if something terrible had happened at the Château or if Mlle. Chantal and Mme. la Comtesse were fighting again.

"I'm sorry for bothering you M. le Curé," Mlle. Louise said breathlessly. "But there's been a lot on my mind lately and I feel the need to tell you."

Her shoes were scuffed and dirty and she had not put the usual care that she typically put forward into her appearance. Her hair looked uncombed and her blouse and skirt had wrinkles in them like she had hastily thrown them on and hurried out of the house. She still looked beautiful to me (she always does) but I was alarmed at her uncharacteristic presentation.

I invited the lady in, against my better judgement, and immediately was struck with a ridiculous sense of insecurity once she saw my modest home and means of living. I am nothing but a peasant's son and regardless of the higher education I received from seminary, my old, lower class habits still remain with me. My pride, it seems, will rear its beastly head at the worst moments. I worried terribly of what Mlle. Louise would think of my worn out cassock and my sparse surroundings seeing that she had come from a life of prominence. To my relief she appeared unbothered and gladly accepted the mulberry wine I had offered her.

Once we were seated in my sitting room, she told me, in a flurry of words that was difficult to keep up with at times, that she had been having difficulty eating and sleeping for some time now due to a certain man that she knew. She sat rigidly as she spoke and kept looking around the room at everything but me.

"Who is this man, mademoiselle?" I tried to make my question sound light hearted as though she were a young child admitting a school crush to me, though I dreaded the answer. I know anything between Mlle. Louise will be doomed from the start but the thought of the one I adore falling in love with someone else hurt beyond words. I am a self centred man.

Mlle. Louise hesitated and stole a glance at me before looking away at her hands in her lap.

"He's a priest, Father."

My mind immediately flew to Curé de Heuchin and I swallowed the nasty surge of jealousy that his visage brought. M. le Curé de Heuchin was much older than either Mlle. Louise and myself but he was kind, intelligent and handsome; a much better priest than I in many ways. I could understand her interest in such a man, though I could not condone it.

"There are many priests in this region of France, mademoiselle, who is he?" I asked again. "I assure you that whatever you say to me will be kept in confidence."

I had meant it sincerely, not only because we priests often must keep secrets but I would never dream of betraying Mlle. Louise's trust in me.

Mlle. Louise finally looked at me and I met her gaze. I have a tendency to never look women directly in the face, not because I dislike them or think myself better than them but because of a damnable shyness that I have never been able to shake. Nonetheless, I often find myself looking at Mlle. Louise directly far more than I probably should and I often have worried that someone in the parish will or has already noticed the excessive eye contact.

I half-expected her to look away the longer we looked at each other but she didn't and I found myself unable to avert my gaze.

"You know him quite well." She said cryptically.

I quickly ran through every priest I knew and how she might know them in my mind. There was Curé de Torcy, Curé de Norenfontes, Curé d'Eutichamps and Curé de Heuchin but as for the rest in our diocese, it is unlikely she would ever have had enough close contact with them to develop even the most innocent of crushes. She was being purposefully vague and this frustrated me.

"Please, speak plainly. I have no mind for riddles."

Mlle. Louise took a breath. "It's you, monsieur."

I scrambled for something to say only to find nothing, my words failed me once again. I feared my stunned reaction might have been interpreted as rejection but Mlle. Louise must have saw something in my face that encouraged her to stay. She moved closer and I, without thinking much of it, tilted my face towards hers and closed my eyes as she closed the distance between us.

I have thought of kissing Mlle. Louise far more than I would care to admit, some of my imaginings far more scandalous than others. I would imagine that I would be the one to initiate anything between us but there's a reason why that has remained nothing but a fancy in my mind. The reality of what her kiss felt and tasted like was far better than anything my own imagination could have conjured anyway.

With her kiss, I could feel my resolve weaken and I wanted nothing more then to lose myself in her and tell her every silly, romantic thought I had of her. If I did not have my 'black sheath' (as Olivier called it) then I might have done just that. Instead I have found my strength and pulled away. I glanced at her and fought the urge to look away.

"M. le Curé?" Mlle. Louise said softly.

I love her voice and an impulsive part of me told her my name in some frivolous desire to hear her say it. "Josselin. My name is Josselin."

"Josselin, did you think that I never noticed the way you look at me?"

I wish the heavens would have opened up and that an angel or even God Himself whisked me away, to spare me the embarrassment I felt. Of course she would have noticed some callow clergyman rudely staring at her; I should have been more mindful of my actions. If she had noticed then who else had? She had caught me in my own stupidity and she knew it.

"Mademoiselle, I never considered that you'd be aware or have any interest." I said dumbly.

Mlle. Louise laughed and the sound made me smile despite myself. How stupid I have been!

"How long have I been so ignorant?" I asked.

"Since you first got here. So a few months at most," Mlle. Louise played with a lose thread in the hem of her skirt. "I just enjoyed talking to you and I quickly realized that my interest in you wasn't entirely platonic."

She blushed. "It's only recently that I began to suspect that you felt that same and I decided to come here. Quite impulsively might I add. I'm supposed to be home right now but M. la Comtesse doesn't know I left the Château."

"Mademoiselle..." I began.

"There's no need to be so formal with me now."

"Louise," I corrected myself. "I-I don't know how to proceed from here."

"I'll give you some time to think about it. I understand if you refuse me," I caught a small crack in her voice as she spoke. "But I wanted to tell you how I felt."

I reached out and gently touched one of her hands and she gladly grasped it within hers. I raised it to my mouth and kissed her wrist before resting our intertwined hands in my lap. I was fairly certain that I loved her or at least was falling in love with her but I didn't know what to say in the face of such an overwhelming realization. Beneath the confusion and fear was a sense of childish giddiness and adoration for the one seated next to me.

Mlle. Louise (or should I exclude the honorific now?) went away shortly thereafter and I was left broiling in my own shame and guilt. I had felt young and euphoric in the moment and now that she was gone and I was alone with my thoughts, the weight of my wrongdoing settled on my shoulders. God made man and woman for each other and I suppose it's only natural that a priest, no matter how pious, may find himself in a similar situation but we, and our religious brothers and sisters, vow to sacrifice such companionship.

The good lady did show up to Mass this morning as expected and since she was the only one there, she walked down the aisle and kissed me in the sacristy as I took off my vestments and left the church. How terrible a thing to do but yet my heart tries to deceive me and tell that it wasn't as bad as my mind tells me it is. The heart is deceitful above all things and I mustn't listen to it but it is so difficult and painful.

Louis Dufréty left the priesthood for a woman he loved would I be willing to do the same? I most certainly cannot carry on with her as long as I am vowed to God, it would be unfair and cruel, nor do I think I am willing to disgrace myself by abandoning my vocation, by becoming a failure.

I must deter her from pursuing me further, apologize for ever leading her on and part ways with her. This is what I must do and yet the thought of doing so hurts. What if I regret it? I fear that I will not sleep much tonight. My mind is in turmoil and the longer I abstain from voicing my thoughts, the more difficult it's going to be for me to reject her and the more painful it's going to be for her. I should not lead her on and allow her to move on with her life, find someone whose much more worthy of her attention. She'll forget about me eventually.

Regardless, I must give her an answer.