by Gale Sears
Albertina leaned close to Madeleine and whispered. “Imagine what my family would say to that.”
Elder Woodard stepped forward, extending his hand to Monsieur Bose. “How are you doing this morning, Jean?”
“I am doing well, Elder Woodard. I have prayed for peace concerning my decision.”
Lorenzo was next to shake his hand. “And how are you feeling?”
“I am calm, Elder Snow. All night I pondered the words Elder Woodard shared with me, and I found nothing amiss. My desire is still strong to join with you.”
Lorenzo smiled. “Then let’s take you into the water and prepare you to become a member of the Lord’s Church.”
The two men removed their shoes, socks, and suit coats and walked out into the cold waters of the Pellice River. Lorenzo thought of the Savior standing with John in the waters of Jordan, of Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery baptizing each other in the Susquehanna River, having just received their priesthood commissions from that same John. He thought of himself in Kirtland, Ohio, being immersed by Elder Boynton, an apostle of God. And now he, as an apostle, took the hand of Jean Antoine Bose, and while his two companions stood as witnesses and the two young women looked on, Lorenzo spoke the words in the soft sounds of Italian that would open a door that no man could shut.
Note
The dream of the boat and the fish was an actual dream experienced by Elder Snow and recorded in his writings.
Chapter Twenty-One
Torre Pellice
November 1, 1850
“Another log on the fire! This cold is cracking my bones!”
Albertina laid down the book and went to fulfill her great-uncle’s command. “Stop growling. You nearly made my friend jump out of her chair.”
Father Andrew turned to Madeleine Cardon. “Please forgive me, Mademoiselle Cardon. The cold makes me grumpy.”
“Don’t worry, Father Andrew. I’ve become used to your grumbling.”
Albertina laughed. “See there? There is someone who will stand up to you.”
“Well, it’s not difficult to stand up to an old dog without sharp teeth.”
The fire blazed in the grate and tendrils of warmth drifted into the library. Father Andrew sighed. There were still a few pleasant things about the world: a warm room, a cherished face, and prayers at eventide.
“Uncle?”
“Yes, my dear one?”
“Do you think you will be able to come to the singing competition in Pinerolo?”
“Singing competition? What singing competition?”
“The singing competition at . . . Oh! You are teasing me!” Andrew chuckled at his great-niece’s pique. “That is not funny, Uncle! I should stop reading to you for that.”
“Oh, no!” Andrew protested. “We were just at the eventful part where the mad priest is going to tell Dantes about the hidden treasure!”
Albertina sat down and closed the book. “You know this story from end to end anyway.”
“But I don’t know it,” Madeleine said.
“See, your friend wants to know what will happen to the mistreated Dantes. What kind of friend are you to keep it from her?”
“All right, you trickster. I’ll read, but first you have to answer my question about the singing competition.”
Andrew gazed at her fondly. “I would not miss it for anything. I will make it to Pinerolo even if they have to drag me along on Joseph’s little sledge.”
“Well, that would be an amusing sight,” Albertina said, opening the book.
“And you will not give me the slightest hint as to what you’re singing?”
“No.”
Andrew looked crestfallen, and Madeleine giggled.
“Oh, all right,” Albertina said with a sigh. “It is a song . . . by . . . a . . . very great composer.”
“Pshaw!” Andrew grunted. “Now who is teasing?”
“Enough of this,” Albertina said, stifling her laughter. “If you want to hear about the hidden treasure, then we must get to it before Madeleine and I have to leave.”
“Leave? Where are you going? I thought you might stay for the midday meal. After all, you did bring your mother’s stew.”
“Sorry, Uncle, but Madeleine is helping the Mormon missionaries this afternoon at one of their ‘re-unions.’”
Andrew turned to the girl. “Helping?”
“Yes. The missionaries are preaching today to a group of Waldenese who have come down from the high mountains. One of the missionaries speaks French and Italian very well, but is unfamiliar with this mountain dialect.”
“And so you will translate for them.”
“Yes.”
“Your family is listening to their message, little daughter of the Waldenese?”
Madeleine nodded. “And many of our neighbors also.”
Andrew put his hands together and leaned forward. “I bet that is causing a stir in the churches.”
Madeleine nodded again. “More than a stir. Many of the ministers are upset.”
Andrew eyebrows raised. “I’m sure.” He gave the girls a half grin. “I have heard their preaching, you know, these Mormons.”
“Really?” Madeleine said, her eyes widening. “Won’t you be in trouble for that?”
A gentle smile covered Andrew’s face as he sat back in his chair. “Me? What could they do to me?”
“Put you in a dungeon? Toss you out into the snow?” There was genuine concern in her voice.
“Toss me out into the snow?” Andrew laughed. “Well, I am quite sure Father Pious would like to see that, but actually I think I’m safe from retribution.” He glanced to the fire and back. “How could I not listen to their words? Albertina and I both saw a miracle at their hands.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Madeleine replied. “The healing of your little Joseph.”
“Yes. And Albertina has shared with me the story of your dream when you were six.”
Madeleine looked quickly over at her friend. “She did?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” Albertina said. “I knew he would be fascinated by it.”
“And so I was. I find it all fascinating.”
Madeleine looked at Father Andrew straight on. “Still, you are taking a chance.”
Father Andrew grinned at her and nodded. “I guess we are both taking a chance.”
“And I am taking a chance too,” Albertina said quickly.
“How is that?” Andrew asked, looking to her.
Albertina hesitated. “I have been attending several of the re-unions with Madeleine.”
Andrew frowned at her. “I see. Do your mother and father know?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And?”
“They . . . they allow me to go because of their gratitude to the missionaries for Joseph’s life, but . . .”
“But?”
“We are Catholic. Our family has always been Catholic.” Tears came into her voice. “And we honor you.” She came and knelt by his chair. “I wouldn’t do anything to make you unhappy. You are a priest.”
Father Andrew put his hand gently on her head. “Ah, but haven’t you heard? I am a different kind of priest.” Albertina laid her head on the arm of the chair and cried. Andrew patted her. “This has been bothering you, hasn’t it?”
Madeleine stood quickly. “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” she said. “I invited her to a meeting, and during the meeting Elder Woodard asked her to read from the Bible. She liked reading from the Bible. Then the other day we watched as Elder Snow baptized a man. It was like Jesus’ baptism, and—”
“But we are Catholic,” Albertina blubbered.
“Look at me,” Andrew said. Albertina did not respond. “Look at me, little sparrow.” She looked up. “I think you are brave. And if you are brave you must seek for knowledge;
if you are brave you will ask questions and not be fearful of the answers.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “One can find truth in many places. You can take the little bit of knowledge the Mormons have to offer and put it with the truth you already know. It doesn’t mean you have to change anything.”
Albertina sat back and stared at her great-uncle. “That’s right. I don’t have to change anything.” She hugged him. “I have already been baptized.”
“Exactly. You can listen to their words and read from their Bible, but nothing has to change.” Albertina took a deep breath, and he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “So—enough of this worry and sadness, yes?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Now, you two should be on your way.” He gave them each a serious look. “It seems you are abandoning me and poor Dantes.” The girls began to protest, but he waved them off. “No, no, no! It seems you will just have to come another time for more of the story. Now, off with you. You have work to do.”
Albertina stood and kissed his cheek. “Old bear.” She stepped back and Madeleine joined her. “Is there anything we can do before we go, Uncle?”
“One more log for the fire?”
The girls grinned as each went to secure a log. “There, that should keep you,” Albertina said, brushing off her hands. She handed him the book and picked up her coat.
“Yes, I think I will survive. Now, off with you! You do not want the missionaries to worry.”
“I think they would manage without me,” Madeleine answered, putting on her coat. “Thank you for the exciting book, Father Andrew.”
“Promise you will come again to read more.”
“Of course! We must find out what happens.”
Andrew watched the girls as they moved into the shadowed expanse of the library. Not girls anymore, he thought with a twinge of sadness. At seventeen they were nearing womanhood, which meant different interests—interests that would probably not include spending time with a doddering old priest. Andrew chided himself for such melancholy thoughts.
“We do not know the end of the story,” he said out loud. “We must wait and see what happens.”
He heard the library door close, and turned his face to the fire.
“Where are those wolves in sheep’s clothing?”
“Let’s bring them out!”
“Drag them out!”
“Where is the young lady who is helping them?”
Madeleine closed her Bible and looked over at Elder Woodard, for whom she’d been translating. Elder Snow and Elder Stenhouse stood from the congregation and Elder Snow moved quickly towards the door as the shrieks and yelling outside the house continued.
“Wait! Wait, Elder Snow!” Madeleine yelled. “Let me go!” She strode to his side. “Let me go out!”
“I can’t let you do that!” Lorenzo said firmly.
“But I know one of the voices. He is my pastor, Pastor Monastier. He will not harm me.” Madeleine reached for the latch, but Lorenzo pressed his hand against the door.
“This is a mob. I have seen mobs, Madeleine, and you do not know what men can do when their feelings are overtaken.”
Albertina now stood at her friend’s side. “Listen to him, Madeleine. It is dangerous.”
“I am a daughter of the Waldenese, Elder Snow. I know what men can do; I have heard the stories all my life, but I know the Lord will be with me. Let me go out.”
The fervor of her commitment forced Lorenzo to the side. Madeleine opened her Bible and stepped out to face the gathering of angry men. They were quiet for a moment, surprised by the appearance of the slight girl, but then the jeering and ridicule began anew.
“Here is one whose spirit is black!”
“Helper of the wolves in sheep’s clothing!”
“She carries a false bible written by the Mormon elders to deceive the people!”
Madeleine walked directly to her pastor and laid the Bible in his hands. “You confirmed me when I was fifteen. Here is the same Bible I studied from at that time—the holy Bible used by the Mormon elders to preach the words of Christ!” Her voice was strong and calm. It carried such power that the cacophony diminished.
Pastor Monastier scowled at her. “You are disloyal! You have violated your oath to the church!”
“I am loyal to the truth!” she called out, laying her hand on the open Bible. “I believe in this Bible, but now I understand it better than before.” She looked intently into the eyes of her pastor. “You taught me that it was the duty of all of God’s children to learn and walk in the true way of salvation. That is what I am doing.”
“Blasphemer,” he hissed. He raised his voice. “They have stolen her soul!”
The yells of the mob burst forth.
“Bring out those wolves!”
“Make them pay for their treachery!”
The men surged forward, but Madeleine held her ground. She grabbed her Bible from the pastor’s hands and thrust it into the air.
“You will leave this place! The elders are under my protection and you will not harm one hair on their heads!”
The mob stopped as if they’d run into a wall, the Satanic oaths strangling in their throats. Madeleine knew that God was with her, filling her with calm as she looked at the strong, ferocious body of men standing helpless before a weak, trembling—yet fearless—girl. The combat was on. The spirit of Satan had struck the first blow, but now the Spirit of God assumed control.
Pastor Monastier stared at her, then turned and instructed the mob to depart. Some dispersed with sullen faces, some in fear and shame, some broken in pride and remorseful in spirit. The pastor waited until he was alone with the girl.
“I am sorry for you and your family, Madeleine. You are being led away by deceivers. I will pray that you will be guided back to the truth. If not, may God have mercy on your soul.” He turned to go.
“Pastor Monastier,” Madeleine called softly after him. He turned back. “I pray also that you may find the truth.” Her voice was soft and sincere, and for a moment the stern resolve on the man’s face flickered. He lowered his head, turned, and walked away.
As the door to the house slowly opened, Madeleine fell to her knees. Albertina was immediately by her side.
“Madeleine! Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
Elder Snow knelt down and took Madeleine by the arms, glancing over his shoulder as the last of the retreating men disappeared over the slope of the hill. “Sister Cardon, what have you done?”
Madeleine looked up into his face and gave him a weak smile. “God placed words in my mouth,” she said meekly.
“And, it would seem, the sword of truth in your hand,” Elder Stenhouse added, looking down at the young woman with admiration.
Elder Woodard helped Elder Snow lift Madeleine onto her feet. He leaned close. “We can close the meeting now, Sister Cardon, unless you desire to tell these anxious people the story of your encounter.”
Madeleine looked over at the members of the gathering, noting their worried expressions. She stood straighter, holding the Bible against her chest. “I think I should like to stand as a witness, Elder Woodard, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Elder Woodard shared a look with his leader. “What say you, Elder Snow? Would we mind if Sister Cardon stands as a witness?”
“I think it would be fitting.”
With Madeleine Cardon in front, the Mormon missionaries led their small flock back into the house to finish the meeting.
Note
The story of this mob attack at the re-union was recorded in Madeleine Cardon’s journal (Reminiscences). Many of the words are exactly as she wrote them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Torre Pellice
November 24, 1850
Madame Guy stood at the doorway of the inn, calling after her child. �
�Run! Run quickly, Albertina! They won’t be far up the road. Run and catch them!”
Albertina waved the letter in the air and called back. “I will!”
Joseph pushed past his mother into the cold autumn morning. He wore his coat and a pair of mittens. “I want to go with her, Mother.”
Francesca laid her hand over her heart. “Oh! Well, I don’t think you can catch her, little rabbit.”
“I can catch her! I can! Let me go.”
“All right then, run fast!”
Joseph ran. “Sister! Sister, wait! Don’t leave me behind.”
Albertina heard his small voice and slowed so he could catch up. “What are you doing here?”
Joseph panted. “I wanted to go too. Mother said I could carry the letter.”
“Oh, she did?” Albertina smiled, knowing her little brother’s propensity for big stories. “And I suppose she said that we should go to the bakery after we deliver the letter and get a scone.”
Joseph’s eyes widened. “No, she didn’t say that, but . . . could we?”
“Yes, if you can keep up.”
“I will!” he said, breathing hard. “I want a scone.”
The two moved around the side of the barn and immediately saw the three missionaries hiking along the track.
“Wait!” Joseph yelled. “Wait! Monsieur Snow! A letter!” His small voice went unheard, so he began running.
Albertina followed. She soon outpaced him, quickly narrowing the gap between herself and the missionaries. “Monsieur Snow!” Lorenzo stopped and turned. When he saw who had called his name, he smiled and waved. Albertina came panting to his side. “My brother . . . my brother has a letter for you, Monsieur.”
Lorenzo brightened. “A letter?” He looked down the path, watching with delight as Joseph’s wobbly run brought him closer and closer. “He is serious about his duty, isn’t he?”
“He is, Monsieur.”
At the final distance, Joseph waved the letter in the air. He arrived at Lorenzo’s side red-faced and gulping for air. He held out the letter. “A . . . a . . . a—”
