Listen to a curious story that happened one day in a small village near Reims. You might be wondering what the name of this village was? Really, I don’t know, because years and years, many decades and even centuries have passed since then. Maybe this village has now become a city, or maybe it has completely disappeared from the face of the earth. Who knows? However, it's not about the name.
So, there once stood in this village an old church, in which a decrepit curé, that is, a priest, officiated services. He had no assistants, except for the old sexton, who was devoted to him with all his soul. Despite his venerable age, the sexton managed everywhere: he rang the bell, was a watchman, a gravedigger, a singer, and, among other things, helped the curate with the housework, because, due to poverty, he did not have a maid. And where would it come from, if his parish was insignificant, and the parishioners were entirely poor. But that's not the point, however...
The priest and the sexton lived like this leisurely, without complaining about their bleak fate. And to tell the truth: what is there to be happy about? The day passed - and thank God... However, so as not to lie, the sexton had one great consolation in his life: his beloved dog. Well, judge for yourself: can you blame him for such weakness? Of course not. Moreover, his dog was the best in the world.
Oddly enough, the sexton’s dog obeyed him unquestioningly. She woke him up early so that he had time to ring back for the morning service, guarded him at night, conscientiously barked at all the beggars and passers-by, joyfully wagged her tail, and so on. Moreover, sometimes she went into the forest on her own initiative and brought from there her sexton, and therefore the curate, something from the game. Both of them, of course, doted on this amazing dog and, in gratitude, threw her a bone, or even two, during lunch. Good-natured people, to be sure.
One day a dog brought home a huge hare, from which the sexton and curé made an excellent stew. They sat down at the table and started eating the roast. However, they didn’t forget about the dog: they threw her a marrow bone. She grabbed the bone and immediately choked on it. She choked and died overnight. The sexton howled in grief, tearing out his hair, banging his head against the wall, but there was nothing to do: the dog lay lifeless at the threshold. In a word, the sexton cried, cried, and was consoled: the soul of his dog, they say, went straight to dog heaven, no less.
Well... She got hit, but her body still had to be buried. However, where should she be buried? After all, she was not an ordinary dog, but the best of all dogs.
“Eh, your reverence,” sighed the sexton, “I don’t want to part with her forever.”
“What’s true is true,” the priest agreed with him, “the dog was loyal.” Let's think of something.
They thought and thought and finally came up with an idea. And guess what?
You'll never guess! They decided to bury the dog in that patch of cemetery where the sexton grew cabbage and celery. Let her, they say, rest not far from her beloved owner. This is how the sexton’s dog took its rightful place in the cemetery. Some time passed, and the news of the extraordinary funeral reached the ears of Mr. Bishop. The bishop was indignant:
- How! Bury some mangy dog next to people! But this is blasphemy! Hey, send the priest after this blasphemer. I’ll explain to him what’s what!
What can I say! The bishop was a man of strong character and strictly monitored the behavior of his students and assistants. And he had no shortcomings, except for one single thing: Mr. Bishop was overcome by great greed.
The bishop's messenger galloped up to the poor priest and ordered:
- May you be sure to visit Mr. Bishop in the morning!
- Don’t you know what I did wrong? - The curé turned pale with fear.
“I can’t say for sure,” the messenger replies. “They say that you buried the dog in a holy place where only people are buried.”
- Oh, woe is me! But it's true! “- the priest was horrified. “Tell Mr. Bishop that tomorrow morning I will fall at his feet.”
The messenger left, and only then did the priest understand what he had done.
- What a misfortune! - the old man was horrified. “But he can throw me into prison for my great sin.” Where can I find salvation?
The priest spent the whole day in prayer, repenting, crying...
Meanwhile, the sexton, who knew nothing about what had happened, was digging in the cemetery garden, not far from the dog’s grave, and suddenly... What a surprise!
Like the wind, the sexton burst into the priest's room without knocking.
- Monsieur curé! Mister curé! - Almost choking with joy, the sexton screamed and handed the curé an old, mossy box that he had just dug up in a cabbage patch. “Look, Mister curé, look what I found in the ground!”
The priest rose from his knees and asked sadly:
- Well, what else is there?
- Just look!
The curate opened the box and immediately sat down on a chair in surprise: the box was full of gold crowns. Forgetting for a moment about all his troubles and sins, the old priest broke into a satisfied smile and even closed his eyes. He closed it and suddenly heard the sexton’s voice:
“Monsieur curé, all these crowns belong to you.”
“No, no...” the priest finally opened his eyes. “They are yours.”
After all, you found them, not me.
- If so, I’ll give them to you.
- No, my friend, keep them for yourself.
- Why do I need them? Think for yourself.
- OK. So be it: let's divide them equally.
They divided the gold crowns equally. After that, the curate divided his ecus into two equal piles: he put one in the closet, and poured the second into a bag. The next morning he set off early to the city, to the formidable bishop.
He was already waiting for him and, without even inviting him to sit down, he rained down thunder and lightning on the poor curé’s head. He scolded him with such fervor and eloquence that the priest understood only one thing: he, poor fellow, had committed a hundred mortal sins, and therefore he would have to spend the rest of his days in prison. However, our curé did not forget about the great weakness of Mr. Bishop - his greed. And therefore he humbly said to him:
- Mister Bishop, I am guilty. I made a terrible mistake, but... but forgive me, a sinner. After all, this dog was the best of dogs, and I thought that it would not be a great sin if I buried it in holy ground. Oh, Mr. Bishop, if you knew her, you would certainly fall in love with her and you yourself would say: no, this dog cannot be buried in God knows where.
- Why is this? - the bishop was surprised.
- But because before his death the dog made a will.
- What nonsense! - The bishop was angry again.
“This is not nonsense, Mister Bishop, but the true truth.” Judge for yourself: she refused you one hundred gold crowns in her will. Here they are!
And the priest poured out a hundred shiny gold crowns from the bag directly onto the bishop's table.
“Hmm...” the bishop said thoughtfully and stroked the gold coins with a trembling hand.
Then, turning to the priest, he graciously said:
“Perhaps you’re right... It was indeed a smart dog.” Well, let it rest where it is buried.
She, of course, will not desecrate the holy place in any way. Amen.
This is how this amazing story ended about the dog who bequeathed one hundred gold crowns to the father of the church.
To tell the truth, I was also looking for the same dog, but I never found it.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru