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| this, the young man began
to tremble and whimper. He said that his priest had told him that
Protestants had a third eye in the middle of their foreheads. He
said he wanted to go home. Farmer Besson showed him that he, a Protestant,
had no third eye. But the lad would not heed reason. He left
the next morning, never to be heard from again.
One of the most important tasks of a minister was to visit his parishioners at least once a year. I rationed my visits, however, for every farmer in the Lasalle valley made his own brandy. Some flavored it with nuts, others with fruits, and others with herbs. Each farmer's brandy was unique, and it was therefore necessary that the Pastor taste it. One glass was refreshing and flavorful. But by the third visit of an afternoon one's legs would be a little bit unsteady. I thus decided to limit the number of my visits to two per day, lest I become like the postmen, whom the farmers would invite for a glass of their "gnole" any time they delivered a money order. The postmen were all notorious alcoholics, and it was well known that they could no longer deliver mail after two in the afternoon. One of the most important lessons I learned in Lasalle was of a sociological nature. For the church included not only farmers, but also the owners of the castles which ringed the town on the slopes above. There was Cornelly, a 16th-century fortress which watched over the entrance to the town, and which belonged to Monsieur Mérueys, a Protestant from Montpellier who had brought all of his best 18th-century furniture to the castle, as he feared for the safety of his prized possessions in the city. There was Madame de la Tour, who lived in another, even older castle, once inhabited by the fiancée of Cavalier, the leader of the Camisard rebellion, who had, at least once, entered the drawing room of the castle on horseback. Other more recent constructions, all owned by Protestants who had made good in the industrial revolution of the last century, dotted the landscape. These cultivated parishioners were inclined to confiscate the pastor for their exclusive profit. Not a week passed without an invitation to lunch or dinner at one of the castles, usually with the eligible daughter of the family, as ministerial marriages were prized among the HSP (the High Protestant Society). These trips to the higher level did not escape the farmers, who saw me pedaling by on my bicycle. Occasional snide remarks showed me that I would need to navigate prudently between these strata of society. I made a particular effort to show the farmers and small merchants of the town how much I appreciated them, shaking hands on every occasion, entering the shops and houses whenever possible to mark my interest in their families. I knew that I had succeeded when one of my farmers once mentioned to me with a large grin, "You are certainly not proud, Monsieur le Pasteur!" That was the highest compliment he could pay me and my efforts at a sociological equilibrium in my parish. One of my apparent achievements
- but only apparent, indeed - in the church of Lasalle during my stay of
six months, was the revival of the young peoples' group, which had not
functioned well under Georges Crespy. Even his wife Aline had tried
her hand at it, but without great success. I had succeeded rapidly,
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