Grace
Copyright 2002, All rights reserved
Her
words, which he wisely let pass, nonetheless gave him pause for thought.
The very next day, a fresh incident made their meaning abundantly clear.
Duperrier never missed early Mass, and ever since he had come into good
graces, he would go to hear Mass at the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. There
he had no choice but to remove his hat, but the church was fairly large,
and at that early hour, the flock of the faithful was sparse enough so that
it was fairly easy to stay out of sight behind a pillar. He must have been
less careful that morning. After the service was over, as he was nearing
the exit, an old woman threw herself at his feet, crying, "Saint Joseph!
Saint Joseph!" and kissing the hem of his overcoat. Duperrier slipped
away, flattered, but also vexed when he recognized his worshipper as an
old lady who lived just down the street from him. A few hours later, the
devout creature burst into Mme Duperrier's apartment, crying, "Saint
Joseph! I must see Saint Joseph!"
Saint Joseph, although lacking in sparkle and less than picturesque,
is an excellent saint, but his rather plain virtues, with their whiff
of woodworking and passive goodness, seem to have done him a disservice.
As a matter of fact, there are quite a lot of people, even some very devout
ones, who without 
even
realizing it, tend to perceive his role in the Nativity as that of a naïve
and forgiving husband. This image of a good-natured simpleton is further
aggravated by people's habit of superimposing on the saint the image of
that other Joseph who sidestepped the advances of Putiphar's wife. Mme.
Duperrier did not have much respect for her husband's supposed saintliness,
but this fervent worshipper, invoking him at the top of her lungs under
the name of Saint Joseph, seemed to seal her shame and ridicule. In a
half-demented rage, she chased the old lady out with an umbrella, and
then broke several piles of dishes.
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