For Isidor Tranche Mollet, the first of January was an important date. He woke with a feeling of excitement, like that which a child feels on its birthday morning. He had decided to give himself a one-day holiday, to go to see his sister, a farmer’s wife, in a village of the Jura; and he would make this journey in the car he had just purchased. The little hunchback was longing to show his relatives his new acquisition, which years of persevering work had allowed him to get. He had dreamed of this car for months, and the dream had been realized only three days! Every time he glanced at “her” from across the road, his heart beat faster. At night his last look was at “her”, and in the morning his first concern was to make sure that “she” was still waiting his pleasure.
This New Year’s morning, unlike his usual habit, he did not hurry to get up. He had worked late into the night to deliver his last orders and wind up his accounts, so he enjoyed the rare pleasure of a late morning and slept happily, dreaming that he had plenty of time since his car would carry him so quickly. Towards nine o’clock he got up, warmed up a cup of coffee, and put together the little presents that he was taking to his relatives.
“The cake will please Louise,” he thought; “she is like me, fond of sweet things.”
What was his horror when he opened the window and threw his usual glance into the deserted alley! The car had disappeared! He rubbed his eyes and leaned out to see if by chance he could be mistaken in his parking place. He recognized the gray station-wagon of his neighbor, but of his cherished blue van - no trace!
“Am I dreaming?” he murmured. “She can’t have flown away.”
He went out, examined the road high and low, then rushed panic-stricken into the baker’s shop at the corner, eager to pour out his trouble. He thumped on the closed door.
“It is New Year’s day,” he recollected; “I am beside myself! The shops are shut. Someone must have stolen her last night, but who could have done it? However, I have the keys.”
Pale and haggard with the shock, he returned to his workshop.
“It’s true I searched for them last night. Did I leave them in the car? No, I remember bringing them in with me. I’m sure I put them down here.” The poor man turned over everything in his workshop, but in vain. “There is only one thing to do,” he said to himself, at his wit’s end: “telephone the police and capture the rascal who has played me this trick.” He seized the receiver and called the police station.
“Here is Isidor Mollet, florist. I find that someone stole my car last night. A blue minivan, license No. 47649. Last evening it was still there. No, I did not leave the keys in the car. I’m sure I locked the doors. This morning the whole outfit is missing. I have no single clue to give you. No, no one entered my house last evening - that is to say - yes! two boys who helped me carry in some parcels, but I would be surprised - No, I don’t know their names; they stayed only a minute or two. Please let me know as quickly as possible. The radio? Oh, yes, I should not have thought of that. Do what you like - never mind what! Provided I recover her! Good! Thank you.”
He hung up the receiver and sank down on a stool. All the pleasure he had promised himself on this day had melted away. He looked at his parcels; the sight of the cake sickened him.
“Can this be true?” he sighed. “What shall I do today? And suppose the car can’t be found?” He consulted the timetable. The train for Bonaventure had gone. Besides, the poor man felt too upset to set out on the journey. When he recovered a little, he phoned his sister and told her of his misfortune, then sat down sadly in his workshop. Achille came and rubbed against his legs, and Lustucru behaved like an imp in his cage, retailing all the pearls of his repertory; but he felt strangely lonely and forlorn.
“My Bible is still left to me,” he said to himself; “and that is my greatest treasure.” He opened the well-used volume and began to read at the page where he had put in his bookmark. “And this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He heareth us; and if we know that He hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of Him” (1 John 5:14-1514And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us: 15And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him. (1 John 5:14‑15)).
“I am silly to worry myself,” he thought. “If it is God’s will that I recover my car, He will give it back to me. I have only to commit it all to Him. He knows better than I what must be done.” On his knees in the dimly lit room, the little hunchback poured out his heart before the Lord who, he knew, was interested in the least detail of his life. He was about to rise when he suddenly thought, “I must also pray for the thief. Whoever he is, he has need of God’s mercy.”