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The Elf of Saint-Esprit

Modifié le : 2016/09/05

She wel­comes you with a beau­ti­ful kind­ness at the church door and climbs sharply in front of you to the organ perched very high, at the sec­ond rood cham­ber. She sits in front of the Casa­vant, rum­mages through his many papers, makes jokes, adjusts his flow­ery scarf.

She looks like an elf who for­got to go back to her for­est, and set­tled in the attic of a church to pass the time.

“This charm­ing organ­ist is 90 years old,” I am whis­pered with admi­ra­tion. It is a real plea­sure to see her go, she makes us hope to live like this. She often talks to the direc­tor, but we don’t hear any­thing she says. Yvan, on famil­iar terms, leans towards her to bet­ter under­stand her. She takes her time, espe­cial­ly, which dis­turbs one of the cho­ris­ters. I smile at her, retort­ing that she is cer­tain­ly in no hur­ry to grow old.

It was a pleas­ant evening. I don’t real­ly like priests, so here I am prepar­ing a Christ­mas mass. I go there, like my moth­er, for singing. We’ll sing nice things.

And with an elf at the organ of the Saint-Esprit-de-Rose­mont church, an oboist at his side, and some good soloists, the evening of the 24th can only be magical.

PS : Well no, this lady is only 78 years old. Clar­if­ca­tion was made two days after. My mis­take comes from a mis­un­der­stand­ing on the part of the woman who said she want­ed to play the organ until she was 90 and that, two or three sen­tences lat­er, announced that she had a year or two left to play. As a result, the peo­ple around her made the wrong calculation.

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