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diff --git a/10577-h/10577-h.htm b/10577-h/10577-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c41e822 --- /dev/null +++ b/10577-h/10577-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15485 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of International Short Stories, by Various Authors</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10577 ***</div> + + <h1> + INTERNATIONAL SHORT STORIES + </h1> + <h3> + <i>FRENCH STORIES</i> + </h3> + <h2> + By Various Authors + </h2> + <h3> + Compiled By Francis J. Reynolds + </h3> + <h4> + 1910 + </h4> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> A PIECE OF BREAD By Francois Coppee </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE ELIXIR OF LIFE By Honore De Balzac </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE AGE FOR LOVE By Paul Bourget </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> MATEO FALCONE By Prosper Merimee </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE MIRROR By Catulle Mendes </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> MY NEPHEW JOSEPH By Ludovic Halevy </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> A FOREST BETROTHAL By Erckmann-Chatrian </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> ZADIG THE BABYLONIAN By Francois Marie Arouet De + Voltaire </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> ABANDONED By Guy De Maupassant </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> JEAN MONETTE By Eugene Francois Vidocq </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SOLANGE—DR. LEDRU’S STORY OF THE + REIGN OF TERROR By Alexandre Dumas </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE BIRDS IN THE LETTER-BOX By Rene Bazin </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> JEAN GOURDON’S FOUR DAYS By Émile Zola + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> BARON DE TRENCK By Clemence Robert </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA By Henry Murger </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> THE WOMAN AND THE CAT By Marcel Prevost </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> GIL BLAS AND DR. SANGRADO By Alain Rene Le Sage + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> A FIGHT WITH A CANNON By Victor Hugo </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> TONTON By A. Cheneviere </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE LAST LESSON By Alphonse Daudet </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> CROISILLES By Alfred De Musset </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> THE VASE OF CLAY By Jean Aicard </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A PIECE OF BREAD By Francois Coppee + </h2> + <p> + The young Duc de Hardimont happened to be at Aix in Savoy, whose waters he + hoped would benefit his famous mare, Perichole, who had become wind-broken + since the cold she had caught at the last Derby,—and was finishing + his breakfast while glancing over the morning paper, when he read the news + of the disastrous engagement at Reichshoffen. + </p> + <p> + He emptied his glass of chartreuse, laid his napkin upon the restaurant + table, ordered his valet to pack his trunks, and two hours later took the + express to Paris; arriving there, he hastened to the recruiting office and + enlisted in a regiment of the line. + </p> + <p> + In vain had he led the enervating life of a fashionable swell—that + was the word of the time—and had knocked about race-course stables + from the age of nineteen to twenty-five. In circumstances like these, he + could not forget that Enguerrand de Hardimont died of the plague at Tunis + the same day as Saint Louis, that Jean de Hardimont commanded the Free + Companies under Du Guesclin, and that Francois-Henri de Hardimont was + killed at Fontenoy with “Red” Maison. Upon learning that + France had lost a battle on French soil, the young duke felt the blood + mount to his face, giving him a horrible feeling of suffocation. + </p> + <p> + And so, early in November, 1870, Henri de Hardimont returned to Paris with + his regiment, forming part of Vinoy’s corps, and his company being + the advance guard before the redoubt of Hautes Bruyères, a position + fortified in haste, and which protected the cannon of Fort Bicêtre. + </p> + <p> + It was a gloomy place; a road planted with clusters of broom, and broken + up into muddy ruts, traversing the leprous fields of the neighborhood; on + the border stood an abandoned tavern, a tavern with arbors, where the + soldiers had established their post. They had fallen back here a few days + before; the grape-shot had broken down some of the young trees, and all of + them bore upon their bark the white scars of bullet wounds. As for the + house, its appearance made one shudder; the roof had been torn by a shell, + and the walls seemed whitewashed with blood. The torn and shattered arbors + under their network of twigs, the rolling of an upset cask, the high swing + whose wet rope groaned in the damp wind, and the inscriptions over the + door, furrowed by bullets; “Cabinets de societé—Absinthe—Vermouth—Vin + à 60 cent. le litre”—encircling a dead rabbit painted over two + billiard cues tied in a cross by a ribbon,—all this recalled with + cruel irony the popular entertainment of former days. And over all, a + wretched winter sky, across which rolled heavy leaden clouds, an odious + sky, angry and hateful. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the tavern stood the young duke, motionless, with his gun + in his shoulder-belt, his cap over his eyes, his benumbed hands in the + pockets of his red trousers, and shivering in his sheepskin coat. He gave + himself up to his sombre thoughts, this defeated soldier, and looked with + sorrowful eyes toward a line of hills, lost in the fog, where could be + seen each moment, the flash and smoke of a Krupp gun, followed by a + report. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he felt hungry. + </p> + <p> + Stooping, he drew from his knapsack, which stood near him leaning against + the wall, a piece of ammunition bread, and as he had lost his knife, he + bit off a morsel and slowly ate it. + </p> + <p> + But after a few mouthfuls, he had enough of it; the bread was hard and had + a bitter taste. No fresh would be given until the next morning’s + distribution, so the commissary officer had willed it. This was certainly + a very hard life sometimes. The remembrance of former breakfasts came to + him, such as he had called “hygienic,” when, the day after too + over-heating a supper, he would seat himself by a window on the ground + floor of the Café-Anglais, and be served with a cutlet, or buttered eggs + with asparagus tips, and the butler, knowing his tastes, would bring him a + fine bottle of old Léoville, lying in its basket, and which he would pour + out with the greatest care. The deuce take it! That was a good time, all + the same, and he would never become accustomed to this life of + wretchedness. + </p> + <p> + And, in a moment of impatience, the young man threw the rest of his bread + into the mud. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a soldier of the line came from the tavern, stooped and + picked up the bread, drew back a few steps, wiped it with his sleeve and + began to devour it eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Henri de Hardimont was already ashamed of his action, and now with a + feeling of pity, watched the poor devil who gave proof of such a good + appetite. He was a tall, large young fellow, but badly made; with feverish + eyes and a hospital beard, and so thin that his shoulder-blades stood out + beneath his well-worn cape. + </p> + <p> + “You are very hungry?” he said, approaching the soldier. + </p> + <p> + “As you see,” replied the other with his mouth full. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me then. For if I had known that you would like the bread, I + would not have thrown it away.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not harm it,” replied the soldier, “I am not + dainty.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” said the gentleman, “it was wrong to do so, + and I reproach myself. But I do not wish you to have a bad opinion of me, + and as I have some old cognac in my can, let us drink a drop together.” + </p> + <p> + The man had finished eating. The duke and he drank a mouthful of brandy; + the acquaintance was made. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked the soldier of the line. + </p> + <p> + “Hardimont,” replied the duke, omitting his title. “And + yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Jean-Victor—I have just entered this company—I am just + out of the ambulance—I was wounded at Châtillon—oh! but it was + good in the ambulance, and in the infirmary they gave me horse bouillon. + But I had only a scratch, and the major signed my dismissal. So much the + worse for me! Now I am going to commence to be devoured by hunger again—for, + believe me, if you will, comrade, but, such as you see me, I have been + hungry all my life.” + </p> + <p> + The words were startling, especially to a Sybarite who had just been + longing for the kitchen of the Café-Anglais, and the Duc de Hardimont + looked at his companion in almost terrified amazement. The soldier smiled + sadly, showing his hungry, wolf-like teeth, as white as his sickly face, + and, as if understanding that the other expected something further in the + way of explanation or confidence: + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he, suddenly ceasing his familiar way of + speaking, doubtless divining that his companion belonged to the rich and + happy; “let us walk along the road to warm our feet, and I will tell + you things, which probably you have never heard of—I am called + Jean-Victor, that is all, for I am a foundling, and my only happy + remembrance is of my earliest childhood, at the Asylum. The sheets were + white on our little beds in the dormitory; we played in a garden under + large trees, and a kind Sister took care of us, quite young and as pale as + a wax-taper—she died afterwards of lung trouble—I was her + favorite, and would rather walk by her than play with the other children, + because she used to draw me to her side and lay her warm thin hand on my + forehead. But when I was twelve years old, after my first communion, there + was nothing but poverty. The managers put me as apprentice with a chair + mender in Faubourg Saint-Jacques. That is not a trade, you know, it is + impossible to earn one’s living at it, and as proof of it, the + greater part of the time the master was only able to engage the poor + little blind boys from the Blind Asylum. It was there that I began to + suffer with hunger. The master and mistress, two old Limousins—afterwards + murdered, were terrible misers, and the bread, cut in tiny pieces for each + meal, was kept under lock and key the rest of the time. You should have + seen the mistress at supper time serving the soup, sighing at each + ladleful she dished out. The other apprentices, two blind boys, were less + unhappy; they were not given more than I, but they could not see the + reproachful look the wicked woman used to give me as she handed me my + plate. And then, unfortunately, I was always so terribly hungry. Was it my + fault, do you think? I served there for three years, in a continual fit of + hunger. Three years! And one can learn the work in one month. But the + managers could not know everything, and had no suspicion that the children + were abused. Ah! you were astonished just now when you saw me take the + bread out of the mud? I am used to that for I have picked up enough of it; + and crusts from the dust, and when they were too hard and dry, I would + soak them all night in my basin. I had windfalls sometimes, such as pieces + of bread nibbled at the ends, which the children would take out of their + baskets and throw on the sidewalks as they came from school. I used to try + to prowl around there when I went on errands. At last my time was ended at + this trade by which no man can support himself. Well, I did many other + things, for I was willing enough to work. I served the masons; I have been + shop-boy, floor-polisher, I don’t know what all! But, pshaw; to-day, + work is lacking, another time I lose my place: Briefly, I never have had + enough to eat. Heavens! how often have I been crazy with hunger as I have + passed the bakeries! Fortunately for me; at these times I have always + remembered the good Sister at the Asylum, who so often told me to be + honest, and I seemed to feel her warm little hand upon my forehead. At + last, when I was eighteen I enlisted; you know as well as I do, that the + trooper has only just enough. Now,—I could almost laugh—here + is the siege and famine! You see, I did not lie, when I told you, just now + that I have always, always, been hungry!” + </p> + <p> + The young duke had a kind heart and was profoundly moved by this terrible + story, told him by a man like himself, by a soldier whose uniform made him + his equal. It was even fortunate for the phlegm of this dandy, that the + night wind dried the tears which dimmed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Jean-Victor,” said he, ceasing in his turn, by a delicate + tact, to speak familiarly to the foundling, “if we survive this + dreadful war, we will meet again, and I hope that I may be useful to you. + But, in the meantime, as there is no bakery but the commissary, and as my + ration of bread is twice too large for my delicate appetite,—it is + understood, is it not?—we will share it like good comrades.” + </p> + <p> + It was strong and hearty, the hand-clasp which followed: then, harassed + and worn by their frequent watches and alarms, as night fell, they + returned to the tavern, where twelve soldiers were sleeping on the straw; + and throwing themselves down side by side, they were soon sleeping + soundly. + </p> + <p> + Toward midnight Jean-Victor awoke, being hungry probably. The wind had + scattered the clouds, and a ray of moonlight made its way into the room + through a hole in the roof, lighting up the handsome blonde head of the + young duke, who was sleeping like an Endymion. + </p> + <p> + Still touched by the kindness of his comrade, Jean-Victor was gazing at + him with admiration, when the sergeant of the platoon opened the door and + called the five men who were to relieve the sentinels of the out-posts. + The duke was of the number, but he did not waken when his name was called. + </p> + <p> + “Hardimont, stand up!” repeated the non-commissioned officer. + </p> + <p> + “If you are willing, sergeant,” said Jean-Victor rising, + “I will take his duty, he is sleeping so soundly—and he is my + comrade.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please.” + </p> + <p> + The five men left, and the snoring recommenced. + </p> + <p> + But half an hour later the noise of near and rapid firing burst upon the + night. In an instant every man was on his feet, and each with his hand on + the chamber of his gun, stepped cautiously out, looking earnestly along + the road, lying white in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “What time is it?” asked the duke. “I was to go on duty + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Jean-Victor went in your place.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a soldier was seen running toward them along the road. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” they cried as he stopped, out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “The Prussians have attacked us, let us fall back to the redoubt.” + </p> + <p> + “And your comrades?” + </p> + <p> + “They are coming—all but poor Jean-Victor.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” cried the duke. + </p> + <p> + “Shot through the head with a bullet—died without a word!—ough!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + One night last winter, the Duc de Hardimont left his club about two o’clock + in the morning, with his neighbor, Count de Saulnes; the duke had lost + some hundred louis, and had a slight headache. + </p> + <p> + “If you are willing, André,” he said to his companion, “we + will go home on foot—I need the air.” + </p> + <p> + “Just as you please, I am willing, although the walking may he bad.” + </p> + <p> + They dismissed their coupés, turned up the collars of their overcoats, and + set off toward the Madeleine. Suddenly an object rolled before the duke + which he had struck with the toe of his boot; it was a large piece of + bread spattered with mud. + </p> + <p> + Then to his amazement, Monsieur de Saulnes saw the Duc de Hardimont pick + up the piece of bread, wipe it carefully with his handkerchief embroidered + with his armorial bearings, and place it on a bench, in full view under + the gaslight. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do that for?” asked the count, laughing + heartily, “are you crazy?” + </p> + <p> + “It is in memory of a poor fellow who died for me,” replied + the duke in a voice which trembled slightly, “do not laugh, my + friend, it offends me.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ELIXIR OF LIFE By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + In a sumptuous palace of Ferrara, one winter evening, Don Juan Belvidéro + was entertaining a prince of the house of Este. In those days a banquet + was a marvelous affair, which demanded princely riches or the power of a + nobleman. Seven pleasure-loving women chatted gaily around a table lighted + by perfumed candles, surrounded by admirable works of art whose white + marble stood out against the walls of red stucco and contrasted with the + rich Turkey carpets. Clad in satin, glittering with gold and laden with + gems which sparkled only less brilliantly than their eyes, they all told + of passions, intense, but of various styles, like their beauty. They + differed neither in their words nor their ideas; but an expression, a + look, a motion or an emphasis served as a commentary, unrestrained, + licentious, melancholy or bantering, to their words. + </p> + <p> + One seemed to say: “My beauty has power to rekindle the frozen heart + of age.” Another: “I love to repose on soft cushions and think + with rapture of my adorers.” A third, a novice at these fêtes, was + inclined to blush. “At the bottom of my heart I feel compunction,” + she seemed to say. “I am a Catholic and I fear hell; but I love you + so—ah, so dearly—that I would sacrifice eternity to you!” + The fourth, emptying a cup of Chian wine, cried: “Hurrah, for + pleasure! I begin a new existence with each dawn. Forgetful of the past, + still intoxicated with the violence of yesterday’s pleasures, I + embrace a new life of happiness, a life filled with love.” + </p> + <p> + The woman sitting next to Belvidéro looked at him with flashing eyes. She + was silent. “I should have no need to call on a bravo to kill my + lover if he abandoned me.” Then she had laughed; but a comfit dish + of marvelous workmanship was shattered between her nervous fingers. + </p> + <p> + “When are you to be grand duke?” asked the sixth of the + prince, with an expression of murderous glee on her lips and a look of + Bacchanalian frenzy in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And when is your father going to die?” said the seventh, + laughing and throwing her bouquet to Don Juan with maddening coquetry. She + was an innocent young girl who was accustomed to play with sacred things. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t speak of it!” cried the young and handsome + Don Juan. “There is only one immortal father in the world, and + unfortunately he is mine!” + </p> + <p> + The seven women of Ferrara, the friends of Don Juan, and the prince + himself gave an exclamation of horror. Two hundred years later, under + Louis XV, well-bred persons would have laughed at this sally. But perhaps + at the beginning of an orgy the mind had still an unusual degree of + lucidity. Despite the heat of the candles, the intensity of the emotions, + the gold and silver vases, the fumes of wine, despite the vision of + ravishing women, perhaps there still lurked in the depths of the heart a + little of that respect for things human and divine which struggles until + the revel has drowned it in floods of sparkling wine. Nevertheless, the + flowers were already crushed, the eyes were steeped with drink, and + intoxication, to quote Rabelais, had reached even to the sandals. In the + pause that followed a door opened, and, as at the feast of Balthazar, God + manifested himself. He seemed to command recognition now in the person of + an old, white-haired servant with unsteady gait and drawn brows; he + entered with gloomy mien and his look seemed to blight the garlands, the + ruby cups, the pyramids of fruits, the brightness of the feast, the glow + of the astonished faces and the colors of the cushions dented by the white + arms of the women; then he cast a pall over this folly by saying, in a + hollow voice, the solemn words: “Sir, your father is dying!” + </p> + <p> + Don Juan rose, making a gesture to his guests, which might be translated: + “Excuse me, this does not happen every day.” + </p> + <p> + Does not the death of a parent often overtake young people thus in the + fulness of life, in the wild enjoyment of an orgy? Death is as unexpected + in her caprices as a woman in her fancies, but more faithful—Death + has never duped any one. + </p> + <p> + When Don Juan had closed the door of the banquet hall and walked down the + long corridor, which was both cold and dark, he compelled himself to + assume a mask, for, in thinking of his rôle of son, he had cast off his + merriment as he threw down his napkin. The night was black. The silent + servant who conducted the young man to the death chamber, lighted the way + so insufficiently that Death, aided by the cold, the silence, the gloom, + perhaps by a reaction of intoxication, was able to force some reflections + into the soul of the spendthrift; he examined his life, and became + thoughtful, like a man involved in a lawsuit when he sets out for the + court of justice. + </p> + <p> + Bartholomeo Belvidéro, the father of Don Juan, was an old man of ninety, + who had devoted the greater part of his life to business. Having traveled + much in Oriental countries he had acquired there great wealth and learning + more precious, he said, than gold or diamonds, to which he no longer gave + more than a passing thought. “I value a tooth more than a ruby,” + he used to say, smiling, “and power more than knowledge.” This + good father loved to hear Don Juan relate his youthful adventures, and + would say, banteringly, as he lavished money upon him: “Only amuse + yourself, my dear child!” Never did an old man find such pleasure in + watching a young man. Paternal love robbed age of its terrors in the + delight of contemplating so brilliant a life. + </p> + <p> + At the age of sixty, Belvidéro had become enamored of an angel of peace + and beauty. Don Juan was the sole fruit of this late love. For fifteen + years the good man had mourned the loss of his dear Juana. His many + servants and his son attributed the strange habits he had contracted to + this grief. Bartholomeo lodged himself in the most uncomfortable wing of + his palace and rarely went out, and even Don Juan could not intrude into + his father’s apartment without first obtaining permission. If this + voluntary recluse came or went in the palace or in the streets of Ferrara + he seemed to be searching for something which he could not find. He walked + dreamily, undecidedly, preoccupied like a man battling with an idea or + with a memory. While the young man gave magnificent entertainments and the + palace re-echoed his mirth, while the horses pawed the ground in the + courtyard and the pages quarreled at their game of dice on the stairs, + Bartholomeo ate seven ounces of bread a day and drank water. If he asked + for a little poultry it was merely that he might give the bones to a black + spaniel, his faithful companion. He never complained of the noise. During + his illness if the blast of horns or the barking of dogs interrupted his + sleep, he only said: “Ah, Don Juan has come home.” Never + before was so untroublesome and indulgent a father to be found on this + earth; consequently young Belvidéro, accustomed to treat him without + ceremony, had all the faults of a spoiled child. His attitude toward + Bartholomeo was like that of a capricious woman toward an elderly lover, + passing off an impertinence with a smile, selling his good humor and + submitting to be loved. In calling up the picture of his youth, Don Juan + recognized that it would be difficult to find an instance in which his + father’s goodness had failed him. He felt a newborn remorse while he + traversed the corridor, and he very nearly forgave his father for having + lived so long. He reverted to feelings of filial piety, as a thief returns + to honesty in the prospect of enjoying a well-stolen million. + </p> + <p> + Soon the young man passed into the high, chill rooms of his father’s + apartment. After feeling a moist atmosphere and breathing the heavy air + and the musty odor which is given forth by old tapestries and furniture + covered with dust, he found himself in the antique room of the old man, in + front of a sick bed and near a dying fire. A lamp standing on a table of + Gothic shape shed its streams of uneven light sometimes more, sometimes + less strongly upon the bed and showed the form of the old man in + ever-varying aspects. The cold air whistled through the insecure windows, + and the snow beat with a dull sound against the panes. + </p> + <p> + This scene formed so striking a contrast to the one which Don Juan had + just left that he could not help shuddering. He felt cold when, on + approaching the bed, a sudden flare of light, caused by a gust of wind, + illumined his father’s face. The features were distorted; the skin, + clinging tightly to the bones, had a greenish tint, which was made the + more horrible by the whiteness of the pillows on which the old man rested; + drawn with pain, the mouth, gaping and toothless, gave breath to sighs + which the howling of the tempest took up and drew out into a dismal wail. + In spite of these signs of dissolution an incredible expression of power + shone in the face. The eyes, hallowed by disease, retained a singular + steadiness. A superior spirit was fighting there with death. It seemed as + if Bartholomeo sought to kill with his dying look some enemy seated at the + foot of his bed. This gaze, fixed and cold, was made the more appalling by + the immobility of the head, which was like a skull standing on a doctor’s + table. The body, clearly outlined by the coverlet, showed that the dying + man’s limbs preserved the same rigidity. All was dead, except the + eyes. There was something mechanical in the sounds which came from the + mouth. Don Juan felt a certain shame at having come to the deathbed of his + father with a courtesan’s bouquet on his breast, bringing with him + the odors of a banquet and the fumes of wine. + </p> + <p> + “You were enjoying yourself!” cried the old man, on seeing his + son. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the pure, high voice of a singer who entertained the + guests, strengthened by the chords of the viol by which she was + accompanied, rose above the roar of the storm and penetrated the chamber + of death. Don Juan would gladly have shut out this barbarous confirmation + of his father’s words. + </p> + <p> + Bartholomeo said: “I do not grudge you your pleasure, my child.” + </p> + <p> + These words, full of tenderness, pained Don Juan, who could not forgive + his father for such goodness. + </p> + <p> + “What, sorrow for me, father!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Juanino,” answered the dying man, “I have always + been so gentle toward you that you could not wish for my death?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Don Juan, “if it were possible to preserve + your life by giving you a part of mine!” (“One can always say + such things,” thought the spendthrift; “it is as if I offered + the world to my mistress.”) + </p> + <p> + The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the old spaniel + whined. This intelligent voice made Don Juan tremble. He believed that the + dog understood him. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that I could count on you, my son,” said the dying + man. “There, you shall be satisfied. I shall live, but without + depriving you of a single day of your life.” + </p> + <p> + “He raves,” said Don Juan to himself. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, aloud: “Yes, my dearest father, you will indeed live + as long as I do, for your image will be always in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a question of that sort of life,” said the old + nobleman, gathering all his strength to raise himself to a sitting + posture, for he was stirred by one of those suspicions which are only born + at the bedside of the dying. “Listen, my son,” he continued in + a voice weakened by this last effort. “I have no more desire to die + than you have to give up your lady loves, wine, horses, falcons, hounds + and money——” + </p> + <p> + “I can well believe it,” thought his son, kneeling beside the + pillow and kissing one of Bartholomeo’s cadaverous hands. “But, + father,” he said aloud, “my dear father, we must submit to the + will of God!” + </p> + <p> + “God! I am also God!” growled the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Do not blaspheme!” cried the young man, seeing the menacing + expression which was overspreading his father’s features. “Be + careful what you say, for you have received extreme unction and I should + never be consoled if you were to die in a state of sin.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to listen to me?” cried the dying man, gnashing + his toothless jaws. + </p> + <p> + Don Juan held his peace. A horrible silence reigned. Through the dull wail + of the snowstorm came again the melody of the viol and the heavenly voice, + faint as the dawning day. + </p> + <p> + The dying man smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you for having brought singers and music! A banquet, young + and beautiful women, with dark locks, all the pleasures of life. Let them + remain. I am about to be born again.” + </p> + <p> + “The delirium is at its height,” said Don Juan to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I have discovered a means of resuscitation. There, look in the + drawer of the table—you open it by pressing a hidden spring near the + griffin.” + </p> + <p> + “I have it, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now take out a little flask of rock crystal.” + </p> + <p> + “Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I have spent twenty years in——” + </p> + <p> + At this point the old man felt his end approaching, and collected all his + energy to say: + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I have drawn my last breath rub me with this water and I + shall come to life again.” + </p> + <p> + “There is very little of it,” replied the young man. + </p> + <p> + Bartholomeo was no longer able to speak, but he could still hear and see. + At these words he turned his head toward Don Juan with a violent wrench. + His neck remained twisted like that of a marble statue doomed by the + sculptor’s whim to look forever sideways, his staring eyes assumed a + hideous fixity. He was dead, dead in the act of losing his only, his last + illusion. In seeking a shelter in his son’s heart he had found a + tomb more hollow than those which men dig for their dead. His hair, too, + had risen with horror and his tense gaze seemed still to speak. It was a + father rising in wrath from his sepulchre to demand vengeance of God. + </p> + <p> + “There, the good man is done for!” exclaimed Don Juan. + </p> + <p> + Intent upon taking the magic crystal to the light of the lamp, as a + drinker examines his bottle at the end of a repast, he had not seen his + father’s eye pale. The cowering dog looked alternately at his dead + master and at the elixir, as Don Juan regarded by turns his father and the + phial. The lamp threw out fitful waves of light. The silence was profound, + the viol was mute. Belvidéro thought he saw his father move, and he + trembled. Frightened by the tense expression of the accusing eyes, he + closed them, just as he would have pushed down a window-blind on an autumn + night. He stood motionless, lost in a world of thought. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a sharp creak, like that of a rusty spring, broke the silence. + Don Juan, in his surprise, almost dropped the flask. A perspiration, + colder than the steel of a dagger, oozed out from his pores. A cock of + painted wood came forth from a clock and crowed three times. It was one of + those ingenious inventions by which the savants of that time were awakened + at the hour fixed for their work. Already the daybreak reddened the + casement. The old timepiece was more faithful in its master’s + service than Don Juan had been in his duty to Bartholomeo. This instrument + was composed of wood, pulleys, cords and wheels, while he had that + mechanism peculiar to man, called a heart. + </p> + <p> + In order to run no further risk of losing the mysterious liquid the + skeptical Don Juan replaced it in the drawer of the little Gothic table. + At this solemn moment he heard a tumult in the corridor. There were + confused voices, stifled laughter, light footsteps, the rustle of silk, in + short, the noise of a merry troop trying to collect itself in some sort of + order. The door opened and the prince, the seven women, the friends of Don + Juan and the singers, appeared, in the fantastic disorder of dancers + overtaken by the morning, when the sun disputes the paling light of the + candles. They came to offer the young heir the conventional condolences. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh, is poor Don Juan really taking this death seriously?” + said the prince in la Brambilla’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, his father was a very good man,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Don Juan’s nocturnal meditations had printed so + striking an expression upon his face that it commanded silence. The men + stopped, motionless. The women, whose lips had been parched with wine, + threw themselves on their knees and began to pray. Don Juan could not help + shuddering as he saw this splendor, this joy, laughter, song, beauty, life + personified, doing homage thus to Death. But in this adorable Italy + religion and revelry were on such good terms that religion was a sort of + debauch and debauch religion. The prince pressed Don Juan’s hand + affectionately, then all the figures having given expression to the same + look, half-sympathy, half-indifference, the phantasmagoria disappeared, + leaving the chamber empty. It was, indeed, a faithful image of life! Going + down the stairs the prince said to la Rivabarella: + </p> + <p> + “Heigho! who would have thought Don Juan a mere boaster of impiety? + He loved his father, after all!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you notice the black dog?” asked la Brambilla. + </p> + <p> + “He is immensely rich now,” sighed Bianca Cavatolini. + </p> + <p> + “What is that to me?” cried the proud Veronese, she who had + broken the comfit dish. + </p> + <p> + “What is that to you?” exclaimed the duke. “With his + ducats he is as much a prince as I am!” + </p> + <p> + At first Don Juan, swayed by a thousand thoughts, wavered toward many + different resolutions. After having ascertained the amount of the wealth + amassed by his father, he returned in the evening to the death chamber, + his soul puffed up with a horrible egoism. In the apartment he found all + the servants of the household busied in collecting the ornaments for the + bed of state on which “feu monseigneur” would lie to-morrow—a + curious spectacle which all Ferrara would come to admire. Don Juan made a + sign and the servants stopped at once, speechless and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone,” he said in an altered voice, “and do + not return until I go out again.” + </p> + <p> + When the steps of the old servant, who was the last to leave, had died + away on the stone flooring, Don Juan locked the door hastily, and, sure + that he was alone, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Now, let us try!” + </p> + <p> + The body of Bartholomeo lay on a long table. To hide the revolting + spectacle of a corpse whose extreme decrepitude and thinness made it look + like a skeleton, the embalmers had drawn a sheet over the body, which + covered all but the head. This mummy-like figure was laid out in the + middle of the room, and the linen, naturally clinging, outlined the form + vaguely, but showing its stiff, bony thinness. The face already had large + purple spots, which showed the urgency of completing the embalming. + Despite the skepticism with which Don Juan was armed, he trembled as he + uncorked the magic phial of crystal. When he stood close to the head he + shook so that he was obliged to pause for a moment. But this young man had + allowed himself to be corrupted by the customs of a dissolute court. An + idea worthy of the Duke of Urbino came to him, and gave him a courage + which was spurred on by lively curiosity. It seemed as if the demon had + whispered the words which resounded in his heart: “Bathe an eye!” + He took a piece of linen and, after having moistened it sparingly with the + precious liquid, he passed it gently over the right eyelid of the corpse. + The eye opened! + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Don Juan, gripping the flask in his hand as we + clutch in our dreams the branch by which we are suspended over a + precipice. + </p> + <p> + He saw an eye full of life, a child’s eye in a death’s head, + the liquid eye of youth, in which the light trembled. Protected by + beautiful black lashes, it scintillated like one of those solitary lights + which travelers see in lonely places on winter evenings. It seemed as if + the glowing eye would pierce Don Juan. It thought, accused, condemned, + threatened, judged, spoke—it cried, it snapped at him! There was the + most tender supplication, a royal anger, then the love of a young girl + imploring mercy of her executioners. Finally, the awful look that a man + casts upon his fellow-men on his way to the scaffold. So much life shone + in this fragment of life that Don Juan recoiled in terror. He walked up + and down the room, not daring to look at the eye, which stared back at him + from the ceiling and from the hangings. The room was sown with points full + of fire, of life, of intelligence. Everywhere gleamed eyes which shrieked + at him. + </p> + <p> + “He might have lived a hundred years longer!” he cried + involuntarily when, led in front of his father by some diabolical + influence, he contemplated the luminous spark. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the intelligent eye closed, and then opened again abruptly, as if + assenting. If a voice had cried, “Yes,” Don Juan could not + have been more startled. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” he thought + </p> + <p> + He had the courage to try to close this white eyelid, but his efforts were + in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I crush it out? Perhaps that would be parricide?” he + asked himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the eye, by means of an ironical wink. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Don Juan, “there is sorcery in it!” + </p> + <p> + He approached the eye to crush it. A large tear rolled down the hollow + cheek of the corpse and fell on Belvidéro’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is scalding!” he cried, sitting down. + </p> + <p> + This struggle had exhausted him, as if, like Jacob, he had battled with an + angel. + </p> + <p> + At last he arose, saying: “So long as there is no blood—” + </p> + <p> + Then, collecting all the courage needed for the cowardly act, he crushed + out the eye, pressing it in with the linen without looking at it. A deep + moan, startling and terrible, was heard. It was the poor spaniel, who died + with a howl. + </p> + <p> + “Could he have been in the secret?” Don Juan wondered, + surveying the faithful animal. + </p> + <p> + Don Juan was considered a dutiful son. He raised a monument of white + marble over his father’s tomb, and employed the most prominent + artists of the time to carve the figures. He was not altogether at ease + until the statue of his father, kneeling before Religion, imposed its + enormous weight on the grave, in which he had buried the only regret that + had ever touched his heart, and that only in moments of physical + depression. + </p> + <p> + On making an inventory of the immense wealth amassed by the old + Orientalist, Don Juan became avaricious. Had he not two human lives in + which he should need money? His deep, searching gaze penetrated the + principles of social life, and he understood the world all the better + because he viewed it across a tomb. He analyzed men and things that he + might have done at once with the past, represented by history, with the + present, expressed by the law, and with the future revealed by religion. + He took soul and matter, threw them into a crucible, and found nothing + there, and from that time forth he became Don Juan. + </p> + <p> + Master of the illusions of life he threw himself—young and beautiful—into + life; despising the world, but seizing the world. His happiness could + never be of that bourgeois type which is satisfied by boiled beef, by a + welcome warming-pan in winter, a lamp at night and new slippers at each + quarter. He grasped existence as a monkey seizes a nut, peeling off the + coarse shell to enjoy the savory kernel. The poetry and sublime transports + of human passion touched no higher than his instep. He never made the + mistake of those strong men who, imagining that little Souls believe in + the great, venture to exchange noble thoughts of the future for the small + coin of our ideas of life. He might, like them, have walked with his feet + on earth and his head among the clouds, but he preferred to sit at his + ease and sear with his kisses the lips of more than one tender, fresh and + sweet woman. Like Death, wherever he passed, he devoured all without + scruple, demanding a passionate, Oriental love and easily won pleasure. + Loving only woman in women, his soul found its natural trend in irony. + </p> + <p> + When his inamoratas mounted to the skies in an ecstasy of bliss, Don Juan + followed, serious, unreserved, sincere as a German student. But he said + “I” while his lady love, in her folly, said “we.” + He knew admirably how to yield himself to a woman’s influence. He + was always clever enough to make her believe that he trembled like a + college youth who asks his first partner at a ball: “Do you like + dancing?” But he could also be terrible when necessary; he could + draw his sword and destroy skilled soldiers. There was banter in his + simplicity and laughter in his tears, for he could weep as well as any + woman who says to her husband: “Give me a carriage or I shall pine + to death.” + </p> + <p> + For merchants the world means a bale of goods or a quantity of circulating + notes; for most young men it is a woman; for some women it is a man; for + certain natures it is society, a set of people, a position, a city; for + Don Juan the universe was himself! Noble, fascinating and a model of + grace, he fastened his bark to every bank; but he allowed himself to be + carried only where he wished to go. The more he saw the more skeptical he + became. Probing human nature he soon guessed that courage was rashness; + prudence, cowardice; generosity, shrewd calculation; justice, a crime; + delicacy, pusillanimity; honesty, policy; and by a singular fatality he + perceived that the persons who were really honest, delicate, just, + generous, prudent and courageous received no consideration at the hands of + their fellows. + </p> + <p> + “What a cheerless jest!” he cried. “It does not come + from a god!” + </p> + <p> + And then, renouncing a better world, he showed no mark of respect to holy + things and regarded the marble saints in the churches merely as works of + art. He understood the mechanism of human society, and never offended too + much against the current prejudices, for the executioners had more power + than he; but he bent the social laws to his will with the grace and wit + that are so well displayed in his scene with M. Dimanche. He was, in + short, the embodiment of Molière’s Don Juan, Goethe’s Faust, + Byron’s Manfred, and Maturin’s Melmoth—grand pictures + drawn by the greatest geniuses of Europe, and to which neither the + harmonies of Mozart nor the lyric strains of Rossini are lacking. Terrible + pictures in which the power of evil existing in man is immortalized, and + which are repeated from one century to another, whether the type come to + parley with mankind by incarnating itself in Mirabeau, or be content to + work in silence, like Bonaparte; or to goad on the universe by sarcasm, + like the divine Rabelais; or again, to laugh at men instead of insulting + things, like Maréchal de Richelieu; or, still better, perhaps, if it mock + both men and things, like our most celebrated ambassador. + </p> + <p> + But the deep genius of Don Juan incorporated in advance all these. He + played with everything. His life was a mockery, which embraced men, + things, institutions, ideas. As for eternity, he had chatted for half an + hour with Pope Julius II., and at the end of the conversation he said, + laughing: + </p> + <p> + “If it were absolutely necessary to choose, I should rather believe + in God than in the devil; power combined with goodness has always more + possibilities than the spirit of evil.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but God wants one to do penance in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you always thinking of your indulgences?” replied + Belvidéro. “Well, I have a whole existence in reserve to repent the + faults of my first life.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that is your idea of old age,” cried the Pope, “you + are in danger of being canonized.” + </p> + <p> + “After your elevation to the papacy, one may expect anything.” + </p> + <p> + And then they went to watch the workmen engaged in building the huge + basilica consecrated to St. Peter. + </p> + <p> + “St. Peter is the genius who gave us our double power,” said + the Pope to Don Juan, “and he deserves this monument. But sometimes + at night I fancy that a deluge will pass a sponge over all this, and it + will need to be begun over again.” + </p> + <p> + Don Juan and the Pope laughed. They understood each other. A fool would + have gone next day to amuse himself with Julius II at Raphael’s + house or in the delightful Villa Madama; but Belvidéro went to see him + officiate in his pontifical capacity, in order to convince himself of his + suspicions. Under the influence of wine della Rovere would have been + capable of forgetting himself and criticising the Apocalypse. + </p> + <p> + When Don Juan reached the age of sixty he went to live in Spain. There, in + his old age, he married a young and charming Andalusian. But he was + intentionally neither a good father nor a good husband. He had observed + that we are never so tenderly loved as by the women to whom we scarcely + give a thought. Doña Elvira, piously reared by an old aunt in the heart of + Andalusia in a castle several leagues from San Lucas, was all devotion and + meekness. Don Juan saw that this young girl was a woman to make a long + fight with a passion before yielding to it, so he hoped to keep from her + any love but his until after his death. It was a serious jest, a game of + chess which he had reserved for his old age. + </p> + <p> + Warned by his father’s mistakes, he determined to make the most + trifling acts of his old age contribute to the success of the drama which + was to take place at his deathbed. Therefore, the greater part of his + wealth lay buried in the cellars of his palace at Ferrara, whither he + seldom went. The rest of his fortune was invested in a life annuity, so + that his wife and children might be interested in keeping him alive. This + was a species of cleverness which his father should have practiced; but + this Machiavellian scheme was unnecessary in his case. Young Philippe + Belvidéro, his son, grew up a Spaniard as conscientiously religious as his + father was impious, on the principle of the proverb: “A miserly + father, a spendthrift son.” + </p> + <p> + The Abbot of San Lucas was selected by Don Juan to direct the consciences + of the Duchess of Belvidéro and of Philippe. This ecclesiastic was a holy + man, of fine carriage, well proportioned, with beautiful black eyes and a + head like Tiberius. He was wearied with fasting, pale and worn, and + continually battling with temptation, like all recluses. The old nobleman + still hoped perhaps to be able to kill a monk before finishing his first + lease of life. But, whether the Abbot was as clever as Don Juan, or + whether Doña Elvira had more prudence or virtue than Spain usually accords + to women, Don Juan was obliged to pass his last days like a country + parson, without scandal. Sometimes he took pleasure in finding his wife + and son remiss in their religious duties, and insisted imperiously that + they should fulfil all the obligations imposed upon the faithful by the + court of Rome. He was never so happy as when listening to the gallant + Abbot of San Lucas, Doña Elvira and Philippe engaged in arguing a case of + conscience. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, despite the great care which the lord of Belvidéro bestowed + upon his person, the days of decrepitude arrived. With this age of pain + came cries of helplessness, cries made the more piteous by the remembrance + of his impetuous youth and his ripe maturity. This man, for whom the last + jest in the farce was to make others believe in the laws and principles at + which he scoffed, was compelled to close his eyes at night upon an + uncertainty. This model of good breeding, this duke spirited in an orgy, + this brilliant courtier, gracious toward women, whose hearts he had wrung + as a peasant bends a willow wand, this man of genius, had an obstinate + cough, a troublesome sciatica and a cruel gout. He saw his teeth leave + him, as, at the end of an evening, the fairest, best dressed women depart + one by one, leaving the ballroom deserted and empty. His bold hands + trembled, his graceful limbs tottered, and then one night apoplexy turned + its hooked and icy fingers around his throat. From this fateful day he + became morose and harsh. He accused his wife and son of being insincere in + their devotion, charging that their touching and gentle care was showered + upon him so tenderly only because his money was all invested. Elvira and + Philippe shed bitter tears, and redoubled their caresses to this malicious + old man, whose broken voice would become affectionate to say: + </p> + <p> + “My friends, my dear wife, you will forgive me, will you not? I + torment you sometimes. Ah, great God, how canst Thou make use of me thus + to prove these two angelic creatures! I, who should be their joy, am their + bane!” + </p> + <p> + It was thus that he held them at his bedside, making them forget whole + months of impatience and cruelty by one hour in which he displayed to them + the new treasures of his favor and a false tenderness. It was a paternal + system which succeeded infinitely better than that which his father had + formerly employed toward him. Finally he reached such a state of illness + that manoeuvres like those of a small boat entering a dangerous canal were + necessary in order to put him to bed. + </p> + <p> + Then the day of death came. This brilliant and skeptical man, whose + intellect only was left unimpaired by the general decay, lived between a + doctor and a confessor, his two antipathies. But he was jovial with them. + Was there not a bright light burning for him behind the veil of the + future? Over this veil, leaden and impenetrable to others, transparent to + him, the delicate and bewitching delights of youth played like shadows. + </p> + <p> + It was on a beautiful summer evening that Don Juan felt the approach of + death. The Spanish sky was gloriously clear, the orange trees perfumed the + air and the stars cast a fresh glowing light. Nature seemed to give + pledges of his resurrection. A pious and obedient son regarded him with + love and respect. About eleven o’clock he signified his wish to be + left alone with this sincere being. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe,” he began, in a voice so tender and affectionate + that the young man trembled and wept with happiness, for his father had + never said “Philippe” like this before. “Listen to me, + my son,” continued the dying man. “I have been a great sinner, + and all my life I have thought about death. Formerly I was the friend of + the great Pope Julius II. This illustrious pontiff feared that the + excessive excitability of my feelings would cause me to commit some deadly + sin at the moment of my death, after I had received the blessed ointment. + He made me a present of a flask of holy water that gushed forth from a + rock in the desert. I kept the secret of the theft of the Church’s + treasure, but I am authorized to reveal the mystery to my son ‘in + articulo mortis.’ You will find the flask in the drawer of the + Gothic table which always stands at my bedside. The precious crystals may + be of service to you also, my dearest Philippe. Will you swear to me by + your eternal salvation that you will carry out my orders faithfully?” + </p> + <p> + Philippe looked at his father. Don Juan was too well versed in human + expression not to know that he could die peacefully in perfect faith in + such a look, as his father had died in despair at his own expression. + </p> + <p> + “You deserve a different father,” continued Don Juan. “I + must acknowledge that when the estimable Abbot of San Lucas was + administering the viaticum’ I was thinking of the incompatibility of + two so wide-spreading powers as that of the devil and that of God.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father!” + </p> + <p> + “And I said to myself that when Satan makes his peace he will be a + great idiot if he does not bargain for the pardon of his followers. This + thought haunted me. So, my child, I shall go to hell if you do not carry + out my wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell them to me at once, father!” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I have closed my eyes,” replied Don Juan, “and + that may be in a few minutes, you must take my body, still warm, and lay + it on a table in the middle of the room. Then put out the lamp—the + light of the stars will be sufficient. You must take off my clothes, and + while you recite ‘Paters’ and ‘Aves’ and uplift + your soul to God, you must moisten my eyes, my lips, all my head first, + and then my body, with this holy water. But, my dear son, the power of God + is great. You must not be astonished at anything.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Don Juan, feeling the approach of death, added in a terrible + voice: “Be careful of the flask!” + </p> + <p> + Then he died gently in the arms of his son, whose tears fell upon his + ironical and sallow face. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight when Don Philippe Belvidéro placed his father’s + corpse on the table. After kissing the stern forehead and the gray hair he + put out the lamp. The soft rays of the moonlight which cast fantastic + reflections over the scenery allowed the pious Philippe to discern his + father’s body dimly, as something white in the midst of the + darkness. The young man moistened a cloth in the liquid and then, deep in + prayer, he faithfully anointed the revered head. The silence was intense. + Then he heard indescribable rustlings, but he attributed them to the wind + among the tree-tops. When he had bathed the right arm he felt himself + rudely seized at the back of the neck by an arm, young and vigorous—the + arm of his father! He gave a piercing cry, and dropped the phial, which + fell on the floor and broke. The liquid flowed out. + </p> + <p> + The whole household rushed in, bearing torches. The cry had aroused and + frightened them as if the trumpet of the last judgment had shaken the + world. The room was crowded with people. The trembling throng saw Don + Philippe, fainting, but held up by the powerful arm of his father, which + clutched his neck. Then they saw a supernatural sight, the head of Don + Juan, young and beautiful as an Antinoüs, a head with black hair, + brilliant eyes and crimson lips, a head that moved in a blood-curdling + manner without being able to stir the skeleton to which it belonged. + </p> + <p> + An old servant cried: “A miracle!” + </p> + <p> + And all the Spaniards repeated: “A miracle!” + </p> + <p> + Too pious to admit the possibility of magic, Doña Elvira sent for the + Abbot of San Lucas. When the priest saw the miracle with his own eyes he + resolved to profit by it, like a man of sense, and like an abbot who asked + nothing better than to increase his revenues. Declaring that Don Juan must + inevitably be canonized, he appointed his monastery for the ceremony of + the apotheosis. The monastery, he said, should henceforth be called + “San Juan de Lucas.” At these words the head made a facetious + grimace. + </p> + <p> + The taste of the Spaniards for this sort of solemnities is so well known + that it should not be difficult to imagine the religious spectacle with + which the abbey of San Lucas celebrated the translation of “the + blessed Don Juan Belvidéro” in its church. A few days after the + death of this illustrious nobleman, the miracle of his partial + resurrection had been so thoroughly spread from village to village + throughout a circle of more than fifty leagues round San Lucas that it was + as good as a play to see the curious people on the road. They came from + all sides, drawn by the prospect of a “Te Deum” chanted by the + light of burning torches. The ancient mosque of the monastery of San + Lucas, a wonderful building, erected by the Moors, which for three hundred + years had resounded with the name of Jesus Christ instead of Allah, could + not hold the crowd which was gathered to view the ceremony. Packed + together like ants, the hidalgos in velvet mantles and armed with their + good swords stood round the pillars, unable to find room to bend their + knees, which they never bent elsewhere. Charming peasant women, whose + dresses set off the beautiful lines of their figures, gave their arms to + white-haired old men. Youths with glowing eyes found themselves beside old + women decked out in gala dress. There were couples trembling with + pleasure, curious-fiancées, led thither by their sweethearts, newly + married couples and frightened children, holding one another by the hand. + All this throng was there, rich in colors, brilliant in contrast, laden + with flowers, making a soft tumult in the silence of the night. The great + doors of the church opened. + </p> + <p> + Those who, having come too late, were obliged to stay outside, saw in the + distance, through the three open doors, a scene of which the tawdry + decorations of our modern operas can give but a faint idea. Devotees and + sinners, intent upon winning the favor of a new saint, lighted thousands + of candles in his honor inside the vast church, and these scintillating + lights gave a magical aspect to the edifice. The black arcades, the + columns with their capitals, the recessed chapels glittering with gold and + silver, the galleries, the Moorish fretwork, the most delicate features of + this delicate carving, were all revealed in the dazzling brightness like + the fantastic figures which are formed in a glowing fire. It was a sea of + light, surmounted at the end of the church by the gilded choir, where the + high altar rose in glory, which rivaled the rising sun. But the + magnificence of the golden lamps, the silver candlesticks, the banners, + the tassels, the saints and the “ex voto” paled before the + reliquary in which Don Juan lay. The body of the blasphemer was + resplendent with gems, flowers, crystals, diamonds, gold, and plumes as + white as the wings of a seraphim; it replaced a picture of Christ on the + altar. Around him burned wax candles, which threw out waves of light. The + good Abbot of San Lucas, clad in his pontifical robes, with his jeweled + mitre, his surplice and his golden crozier reclined, king of the choir, in + a large armchair, amid all his clergy, who were impassive men with silver + hair, and who surrounded him like the confessing saints whom the painters + group round the Lord. The precentor and the dignitaries of the order, + decorated with the glittering insignia of their ecclesiastical vanities, + came and went among the clouds of incense like planets revolving in the + firmament. + </p> + <p> + When the hour of triumph was come the chimes awoke the echoes of the + countryside, and this immense assembly raised its voice to God in the + first cry of praise which begins the “Te Deum.” + </p> + <p> + Sublime exultation! There were voices pure and high, ecstatic women’s + voices, blended with the deep sonorous tones of the men, thousands of + voices so powerful that they drowned the organ in spite of the bellowing + of its pipes. The shrill notes of the choir-boys and the powerful rhythm + of the basses inspired pretty thoughts of the combination of childhood and + strength in this delightful concert of human voices blended in an + outpouring of love. + </p> + <p> + “Te Deum laudamus!” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this cathedral, black with kneeling men and women, the + chant burst forth like a light which gleams suddenly in the night, and the + silence was broken as by a peal of thunder. The voices rose with the + clouds of incense which threw diaphanous, bluish veils over the quaint + marvels of the architecture. All was richness, perfume, light and melody. + </p> + <p> + At the moment at which this symphony of love and gratitude rolled toward + the altar, Don Juan, too polite not to express his thanks and too witty + not to appreciate a jest, responded by a frightful laugh, and straightened + up in his reliquary. But, the devil having given him a hint of the danger + he ran of being taken for an ordinary man, for a saint, a Boniface or a + Pantaléon, he interrupted this harmony of love by a shriek in which the + thousand voices of hell joined. Earth lauded, heaven condemned. The church + trembled on its ancient foundations. + </p> + <p> + “Te Deum laudamus!” sang the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil, brute beasts that you are! ‘Carajos + demonios!’ Beasts! what idiots you are with your God!” + </p> + <p> + And a torrent of curses rolled forth like a stream of burning lava at an + eruption of Vesuvius. + </p> + <p> + “‘Deus sabaoth! sabaoth’!” cried the Christians. + </p> + <p> + Then the living arm was thrust out of the reliquary and waved + threateningly over the assembly with a gesture full of despair and irony. + </p> + <p> + “The saint is blessing us!” said the credulous old women, the + children and the young maids. + </p> + <p> + It is thus that we are often deceived in our adorations. The superior man + mocks those who compliment him, and compliments those whom he mocks in the + depths of his heart. + </p> + <p> + When the Abbot, bowing low before the altar, chanted: “‘Sancte + Johannes, ora pro nobis’!” he heard distinctly: “‘O + coglione’!” + </p> + <p> + “What is happening up there?” cried the superior, seeing the + reliquary move. + </p> + <p> + “The saint is playing devil!” replied the Abbot. + </p> + <p> + At this the living head tore itself violently away from the dead body and + fell upon the yellow pate of the priest. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, Doña Elvira!” cried the head, fastening its teeth + in the head of the Abbot. + </p> + <p> + The latter gave a terrible shriek, which threw the crowd into a panic. The + priests rushed to the assistance of their chief. + </p> + <p> + “Imbecile! Now say that there is a God!” cried the voice, just + as the Abbot expired. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AGE FOR LOVE By Paul Bourget + </h2> + <p> + When I submitted the plan of my Inquiry Upon the Age for Love to the + editor-in-chief of the Boulevard, the highest type of French literary + paper, he seemed astonished that an idea so journalistic—that was + his word—should have been evolved from the brain of his most recent + acquisition. I had been with him two weeks and it was my first + contribution. “Give me some details, my dear Labarthe,” he + said, in a somewhat less insolent manner than was his wont. After + listening to me for a few moments he continued: “That is good. You + will go and interview certain men and women, first upon the age at which + one loves the most, next upon the age when one is most loved? Is that your + idea? And now to whom will you go first?” + </p> + <p> + “I have prepared a list,” I replied, and took from my pocket a + sheet of paper. I had jotted down the names of a number of celebrities + whom I proposed to interview on this all-important question, and I began + to read over my list. It contained two ex-government officials, a general, + a Dominican father, four actresses, two café-concert singers, four actors, + two financiers, two lawyers, a surgeon and a lot of literary celebrities. + At some of the names my chief would nod his approval, at others he would + say curtly, with an affectation of American manners, “Bad; strike it + off,” until I came to the name I had kept for the last, that of + Pierre Fauchery, the famous novelist. + </p> + <p> + “Strike that off,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “He + is not on good terms with us.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” I suggested, “is there any one whose opinion + would be of greater interest to reading men as well as to women? I had + even thought of beginning with him.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil you had!” interrupted the editor-in-chief. “It + is one of Fauchery’s principles not to see any reporters. I have + sent him ten if I have one, and he has shown them all the door. The + Boulevard does not relish such treatment, so we have given him some pretty + hard hits.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, I will have an interview with Fauchery for the + Boulevard,” was my reply. “I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “If you succeed,” he replied, “I’ll raise your + salary. That man makes me tired with his scorn of newspaper notoriety. He + must take his share of it, like the rest. But you will not succeed. What + makes you think you can?” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to tell you my reason later. In forty-eight hours you + will see whether I have succeeded or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and do not spare the fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Decidedly. I had made some progress as a journalist, even in my two weeks’ + apprenticeship, if I could permit Pascal to speak in this way of the man I + most admired among living writers. Since that not far-distant time when, + tired of being poor, I had made up my mind to cast my lot with the + multitude in Paris, I had tried to lay aside my old self, as lizards do + their skins, and I had almost succeeded. In a former time, a former time + that was but yesterday, I knew—for in a drawer full of poems, dramas + and half-finished tales I had proof of it—that there had once + existed a certain Jules Labarthe who had come to Paris with the hope of + becoming a great man. That person believed in Literature with a capital + “L;” in the Ideal, another capital; in Glory, a third capital. + He was now dead and buried. Would he some day, his position assured, begin + to write once more from pure love of his art? Possibly, but for the moment + I knew only the energetic, practical Labarthe, who had joined the + procession with the idea of getting into the front rank, and of obtaining + as soon as possible an income of thirty thousand francs a year. What would + it matter to this second individual if that vile Pascal should boast of + having stolen a march on the most delicate, the most powerful of the heirs + of Balzac, since I, the new Labarthe, was capable of looking forward to an + operation which required about as much delicacy as some of the + performances of my editor-in-chief? I had, as a matter of fact, a sure + means of obtaining the interview. It was this: When I was young and simple + I had sent some verses and stories to Pierre Fauchery, the same verses and + stories the refusal of which by four editors had finally made me decide to + enter the field of journalism. The great writer was traveling at this + time, but he had replied to me. I had responded by a letter to which he + again replied, this time with an invitation to call upon him. I went I did + not find him. I went again. I did not find him that time. Then a sort of + timidity prevented my returning to the charge. So I had never met him. He + knew me only as the young Elia of my two epistles. This is what I counted + upon to extort from him the favor of an interview which he certainly would + refuse to a mere newspaper man. My plan was simple; to present myself at + his house, to be received, to conceal my real occupation, to sketch + vaguely a subject for a novel in which there should occur a discussion + upon the Age for Love, to make him talk and then when he should discover + his conversation in print—here I began to feel some remorse. But I + stifled it with the terrible phrase, “the struggle for life,” + and also by the recollection of numerous examples culled from the firm + with which I now had the honor of being connected. + </p> + <p> + The morning after I had had this very literary conversation with my + honorable director, I rang at the door of the small house in the Rue + Desbordes-Valmore where Pierre Fauchery lived, in a retired corner of + Passy. Having taken up my pen to tell a plain unvarnished tale I do not + see how I can conceal the wretched feeling of pleasure which, as I rang + the bell, warmed my heart at the thought of the good joke I was about to + play on the owner of this peaceful abode. + </p> + <p> + Even after making up one’s mind to the sacrifices I had decided + upon, there is always left a trace of envy for those who have triumphed in + the melancholy struggle for literary supremacy. It was a real + disappointment to me when the servant replied, ill-humoredly, that M. + Fauchery was not in Paris. I asked when he would return. The servant did + not know. I asked for his address. The servant did not know that. Poor + lion, who thought he had secured anonymity for his holiday! A half-hour + later I had discovered that he was staying for the present at the Château + de Proby, near Nemours. I had merely had to make inquiries of his + publisher. Two hours later I bought my ticket at the Gare de Lyon for the + little town chosen by Balzac as the scene for his delicious story of + Ursule Mirouet. I took a traveling bag and was prepared to spend the night + there. In case I failed to see the master that afternoon I had decided to + make sure of him the next morning. Exactly seven hours after the servant, + faithful to his trust, had declared that he did not know where his master + was staying, I was standing in the hall of the château waiting for my card + to be sent up. I had taken care to write on it a reminder of our + conversation of the year before, and this time, after a ten-minute wait in + the hall, during which I noticed with singular curiosity and <i>malice</i> + two very elegant and very pretty young women going out for a walk, I was + admitted to his presence. “Aha,” I said to myself, “this + then is the secret of his exile; the interview promises well!” + </p> + <p> + The novelist received me in a cosy little room, with a window opening onto + the park, already beginning to turn yellow with the advancing autumn. A + wood fire burned in the fireplace and lighted up the walls which were hung + with flowered cretonne and on which could be distinguished several colored + English prints representing cross-country rides and the jumping of hedges. + Here was the worldly environment with which Fauchery is so often + reproached. But the books and papers that littered the table bore witness + that the present occupant of this charming retreat remained a substantial + man of letters. His habit of constant work was still further attested by + his face, which I admit, gave me all at once a feeling of remorse for the + trick I was about to play him. If I had found him the snobbish pretender + whom the weekly newspapers were in the habit of ridiculing, it would have + been a delight to outwit his diplomacy. But no! I saw, as he put down his + pen to receive me, a man about fifty-seven years old, with a face that + bore the marks of reflection, eyes tired from sleeplessness, a brow heavy + with thought, who said as he pointed to an easy chair, “You will + excuse me, my dear confrère, for keeping you waiting.” I, his dear + confrère! Ah! if he had known! “You see,” and he pointed to + the page still wet with ink, “that man cannot be free from the + slavery of furnishing copy. One has less facility at my age than at yours. + Now, let us speak of yourself. How do you happen to be at Nemours? What + have you been doing since the story and the verses you were kind enough to + send me?” + </p> + <p> + It is vain to try to sacrifice once for all one’s youthful ideals. + When a man has loved literature as I loved it at twenty, he cannot be + satisfied at twenty-six to give up his early passion, even at the bidding + of implacable necessity. So Pierre Fauchery remembered my poor verses! He + had actually read my story! His allusion proved it. Could I tell him at + such a moment that since the creation of those first works I had despaired + of myself, and that I had changed my gun to the other shoulder? The image + of the Boulevard office rose suddenly before me. I heard the voice of the + editor-in-chief saying, “Interview Fauchery? You will never + accomplish that;” so, faithful to my self-imposed rôle, I replied, + “I have retired to Nemours to work upon a novel called The Age for + Love, and it is on this subject that I wished to consult you, my dear + master.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me—it may possibly have been an illusion—that at + the announcement of the so-called title of my so-called novel, a smile and + a shadow flitted over Fauchery’s eyes and mouth. A vision of the two + young women I had met in the hall came back to me. Was the author of so + many great masterpieces of analysis about to live a new book before + writing it? I had no time to answer this question, for, with a glance at + an onyx vase containing some cigarettes of Turkish tobacco, he offered me + one, lighted one himself and began first to question, then to reply to me. + I listened while he thought aloud and had almost forgotten my + Machiavellian combination, so keen was my relish of the joyous intimacy of + this communion with a mind I had passionately loved in his works. He was + the first of the great writers of our day whom I had thus approached on + something like terms of intimacy. As we talked I observed the strange + similarity between his spoken and his written words. I admired the + charming simplicity with which he abandoned himself to the pleasures of + imagination, his superabundant intelligence, the liveliness of his + impressions and his total absence of arrogance and of pose. + </p> + <p> + “There is no such thing as an age for love,” he said in + substance, “because the man capable of loving—in the complex + and modern sense of love as a sort of ideal exaltation—never ceases + to love. I will go further; he never ceases to love the same person. You + know the experiment that a contemporary physiologist tried with a series + of portraits to determine in what the indefinable resemblances called + family likeness consisted? He took photographs of twenty persons of the + same blood, then he photographed these photographs on the same plate, one + over the other. In this way he discovered the common features which + determined the type. Well, I am convinced that if we could try a similar + experiment and photograph one upon another the pictures of the different + women whom the same man has loved or thought he had loved in the course of + his life we should discover that all these women resembled one another. + The most inconsistent have cherished one and the same being through five + or six or even twenty different embodiments. The main point is to find out + at what age they have met the woman who approaches nearest to the one + whose image they have constantly borne within themselves. For them that + would be the age for love. + </p> + <p> + “The age for being loved?” he continued. “The deepest of + all the passions I have ever known a man to inspire was in the case of one + of my masters, a poet, and he was sixty years old at the time. It is true + that he still held himself as erect as a young man, he came and went with + a step as light as yours, he conversed like Rivarol, he composed verses as + beautiful as De Vigny’s. He was besides very poor, very lonely and + very unhappy, having lost one after another, his wife and his children. + You remember the words of Shakespeare’s Moor: ‘She loved me + for the dangers I had passed, and I loved her that she did pity them.’ + </p> + <p> + “So it was that this great artist inspired in a beautiful, noble and + wealthy young Russian woman, a devotion so passionate that because of him + she never married. She found a way to take care of him, day and night, in + spite of his family, during his last illness, and at the present time, + having bought from his heirs all of the poet’s personal belongings, + she keeps the apartment where he lived just as it was at the time of his + death. That was years ago. In her case she found in a man three times her + own age the person who corresponded to a certain ideal which she carried + in her heart. Look at Goethe, at Lamartine and at many others! To depict + feelings on this high plane, you must give up the process of minute and + insignificant observation which is the bane of the artists of to-day. In + order that a sixty-year-old lover should appear neither ridiculous nor + odious you must apply to him what the elder Corneille so proudly said of + himself in his lines to the marquise: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Cependant, j’ai quelques charmes + Qui sont assez eclatants + Pour n’avoir pas trop d’alarmes + De ces ravages du temps.’ +</pre> + <p> + “Have the courage to analyze great emotions to create characters who + shall be lofty and true. The whole art of the analytical novel lies there.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the master had such a light of intellectual certainty in his + eyes that to me he seemed the embodiment of one of those great characters + he had been urging me to describe. It made me feel that the theory of this + man, himself almost a sexagenarian, that at any age one may inspire love, + was not unreasonable! The contrast between the world of ideas in which he + moved and the atmosphere of the literary shop in which for the last few + months I had been stifling was too strong. The dreams of my youth were + realized in this man whose gifts remained unimpaired after the production + of thirty volumes and whose face, growing old, was a living illustration + of the beautiful saying: “Since we must wear out, let us wear out + nobly.” His slender figure bespoke the austerity of long hours of + work; his firm mouth showed his decision of character; his brow, with its + deep furrows, had the paleness of the paper over which he so often bent; + and yet, the refinement of his hands, so well cared for, the sober + elegance of his dress and an aristocratic air that was natural to him + showed that the finer professional virtues had been cultivated in the + midst of a life of frivolous temptations. These temptations had been no + more of a disturbance to his ethical and spiritual nature than the + academic honors, the financial successes, the numerous editions that had + been his. Withal he was an awfully good fellow, for, after having talked + at great length with me, he ended by saying, “Since you are staying + in Nemours I hope to see you often, and to-day I cannot let you go without + presenting you to my hostess.” + </p> + <p> + What could I say? This was the way in which a mere reporter on the + Boulevard found himself installed at a five-o’clock tea-table in the + salon of a château, where surely no newspaper man had ever before set foot + and was presented as a young poet and novelist of the future to the old + Marquise de Proby, whose guest the master was. This amiable white-haired + dowager questioned me upon my alleged work and I replied equivocally, with + blushes, which the good lady must have attributed to bashful timidity. + Then, as though some evil genius had conspired to multiply the witnesses + of my bad conduct, the two young women whom I had seen going out, returned + in the midst of my unlooked-for visit. Ah, my interview with this student + of femininity upon the Age for Love was about to have a living commentary! + How it would illumine his words to hear him conversing with these new + arrivals! One was a young girl of possibly twenty—a Russian if I + rightly understood the name. She was rather tall, with a long face lighted + up by two very gentle black eyes, singular in their fire and intensity. + She bore a striking resemblance to the portrait attributed to Froncia in + the Salon Carré of the Louvre which goes by the name of the “Man in + Black,” because the color of his clothes and his mantle. About her + mouth and nostrils was that same subdued nervousness, that same restrained + feverishness which gives to the portrait its striking qualities. I had not + been there a quarter of an hour before I had guessed from the way she + watched and listened to Fauchery what a passionate interest the old master + inspired in her. When he spoke she paid rapt attention. When she spoke to + him, I felt her voice shiver, if I may use the word, and he, he glorious + writer, surfeited with triumphs, exhausted by his labors, seemed, as soon + as he felt the radiance of her glance of ingenuous idolatry, to recover + that vivacity, that elasticity of impression, which is the sovereign grace + of youthful lovers. + </p> + <p> + “I understand now why he cited Goethe and the young girl of + Marienbad,” said I to myself with a laugh, as my hired carriage sped + on toward Nemours. “He was thinking of himself. He is in love with + that child, and she is in love with him. We shall hear of his marrying + her. There’s a wedding that will call forth copy, and when Pascal + hears that I witnessed the courtship—but just now I must think of my + interview. Won’t Fauchery be surprised to read it day after + to-morrow in his paper? But does he read the papers? It may not be right + but what harm will it do him? Besides, it’s a part of the struggle + for life.” It was by such reasoning, I remember, the reasoning of a + man determined to arrive that I tried to lull to sleep the inward voice + that cried, “You have no right to put on paper, to give to the + public what this noble writer said to you, supposing that he was receiving + a poet, not a reporter.” But I heard also the voice of my chief + saying, “You will never succeed.” And this second voice, I am + ashamed to confess, triumphed over the other with all the more ease + because I was obliged to do something to kill time. I reached Nemours too + late for the train which would have brought me back to Paris about dinner + time. At the old inn they gave me a room which was clean and quiet, a good + place to write, so I spent the evening until bedtime composing the first + of the articles which were to form my inquiry. I scribbled away under the + vivid impressions of the afternoon, my powers as well as my nerves spurred + by a touch of remorse. Yes, I scribbled four pages which would have been + no disgrace to the Journal des Goncourts, that exquisite manual of the + perfect reporter. It was all there, my journey, my arrival at the chateau, + a sketch of the quaint eighteenth century building, with its fringe of + trees and its well-kept walks, the master’s room, the master himself + and his conversation; the tea at the end and the smile of the old novelist + in the midst of a circle of admirers, old and young. It lacked only a few + closing lines. “I will add these in the morning,” I thought, + and went to bed with a feeling of duty performed, such is the nature of a + writer. Under the form of an interview I had done, and I knew it, the best + work of my life. + </p> + <p> + What happens while we sleep? Is there, unknown to us, a secret and + irresistible ferment of ideas while our senses are closed to the + impressions of the outside world? Certain it is that on awakening I am apt + to find myself in a state of mind very different from that in which I went + to sleep. I had not been awake ten minutes before the image of Pierre + Fauchery came up before me, and at the same time the thought that I had + taken a base advantage of the kindness of his reception of me became quite + unbearable. I felt a passionate longing to see him again, to ask his + pardon for my deception. I wished to tell him who I was, with what purpose + I had gone to him and that I regretted it. But there was no need of a + confession. It would be enough to destroy the pages I had written the + night before. With this idea I arose. Before tearing them up, I reread + them. And then—any writer will understand me—and then they + seemed to me so brilliant that I did not tear them up. Fauchery is so + intelligent, so generous, was the thought that crossed my mind. What is + there in this interview, after all, to offend him? Nothing, absolutely + nothing. Even if I should go to him again this very morning, tell him my + story and that upon the success of my little inquiry my whole future as a + journalist might depend? When he found that I had had five years of + poverty and hard work without accomplishing anything, and that I had had + to go onto a paper in order to earn the very bread I ate, he would pardon + me, he would pity me and he would say, “Publish your interview.” + Yes, but what if he should forbid my publishing it? But no, he would not + do that. + </p> + <p> + I passed the morning in considering my latest plan. A certain shyness made + it very painful to me. But it might at the same time conciliate my + delicate scruples, my “amour-propre” as an ambitious + chronicler, and the interests of my pocket-book. I knew that Pascal had + the name of being very generous with an interview article if it pleased + him. And besides, had he not promised me a reward if I succeeded with + Fauchery? In short, I had decided to try my experiment, when, after a + hasty breakfast, I saw, on stepping into the carriage I had had the night + before, a victoria with coat-of-arms drive rapidly past and was stunned at + recognizing Fauchery himself, apparently lost in a gloomy revery that was + in singular contrast to his high spirits of the night before. A small + trunk on the coachman’s seat was a sufficient indication that he was + going to the station. The train for Paris left in twelve minutes, time + enough for me to pack my things pell-mell into my valise and hurriedly to + pay my bill. The same carriage which was to have taken me to the Château + de Proby carried me to the station at full speed, and when the train left + I was seated in an empty compartment opposite the famous writer, who was + saying to me, “You, too, deserting Nemours? Like me, you work best + in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation begun in this way, might easily have led to the + confession I had resolved to make. But in the presence of my unexpected + companion I was seized with an unconquerable shyness, moreover he inspired + me with a curiosity which was quite equal to my shyness. Any number of + circumstances, from a telegram from a sick relative to the most + commonplace matter of business, might have explained his sudden departure + from the château where I had left him so comfortably installed the night + before. But that the expression of his face should have changed as it had, + that in eighteen hours he should have become the careworn, discouraged + being he now seemed, when I had left him so pleased with life, so happy, + so assiduous in his attentions to that pretty girl. Mademoiselle de + Russaie, who loved him and whom he seemed to love, was a mystery which + took complete possession of me, this time without any underlying + professional motive. He was to give me the key before we reached Paris. At + any rate I shall always believe that part of his conversation was in an + indirect way a confidence. He was still unstrung by the unexpected + incident which had caused both his hasty departure and the sudden + metamorphosis in what he himself, if he had been writing, would have + called his “intimate heaven.” The story he told me was “per + sfogarsi,” as Bayle loved to say; his idea was that I would not + discover the real hero. I shall always believe that it was his own story + under another name, and I love to believe it because it was so exactly his + way of looking at things. It was apropos of the supposed subject of my + novel—oh, irony!—apropos of the real subject of my interview + that he began. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking about our conversation and about your book, + and I am afraid that I expressed myself badly yesterday. When I said that + one may love and be loved at any age I ought to have added that sometimes + this love comes too late. It comes when one no longer has the right to + prove to the loved one how much she is loved, except by love’s + sacrifice. I should like to share with you a human document, as they say + to-day, which is in itself a drama with a dénouement. But I must ask you + not to use it, for the secret is not my own.” With the assurance of + my discretion he went on: “I had a friend, a companion of my own + age, who, when he was twenty, had loved a young girl. He was poor, she was + rich. Her family separated them. The girl married some one else and almost + immediately afterward she died. My friend lived. Some day you will know + for yourself that it is almost as true to say that one recovers from all + things as that there is nothing which does not leave its scar. I had been + the confidant of his serious passion, and I became the confidant of the + various affairs that followed that first ineffaceable disappointment. He + felt, he inspired, other loves. He tasted other joys. He endured other + sorrows, and yet when we were alone and when we touched upon those + confidences that come from the heart’s depths, the girl who was the + ideal of his twentieth year reappeared in his words. How many times he has + said to me, ‘In others I have always looked for her and as I have + never found her, I have never truly loved any one but her.’” + </p> + <p> + “And had she loved him?” I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “He did not think so,” replied Fauchery. “At least she + had never told him so. Well, you must now imagine my friend at my age or + almost there. You must picture him growing gray, tired of life and + convinced that he had at last discovered the secret of peace. At this time + he met, while visiting some relatives in a country house, a mere girl of + twenty, who was the image, the haunting image of her whom he had hoped to + marry thirty years before. It was one of those strange resemblances which + extend from the color of the eyes to the ‘timbre’ of the + voice, from the smile to the thought, from the gestures to the finest + feelings of the heart. I could not, in a few disjointed phrases describe + to you the strange emotions of my friend. It would take pages and pages to + make you understand the tenderness, both present and at the same time + retrospective, for the dead through the living; the hypnotic condition of + the soul which does not know where dreams and memories end and present + feeling begins; the daily commingling of the most unreal thing in the + world, the phantom of a lost love, with the freshest, the most actual, the + most irresistibly naïve and spontaneous thing in it, a young girl. She + comes, she goes, she laughs, she sings, you go about with her in the + intimacy of country life, and at her side walks one long dead. After two + weeks of almost careless abandon to the dangerous delights of this inward + agitation imagine my friend entering by chance one morning one of the less + frequented rooms of the house, a gallery, where, among other pictures, + hung a portrait of himself, painted when he was twenty-five. He approaches + the portrait abstractedly. There had been a fire in the room, so that a + slight moisture dimmed the glass which protected the pastel, and on this + glass, because of this moisture, he sees distinctly the trace of two lips + which had been placed upon the eyes of the portrait, two small delicate + lips, the sight of which makes his heart beat. He leaves the gallery, + questions a servant, who tells him that no one but the young woman he has + in mind has been in the room that morning.” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” I asked, as he paused. + </p> + <p> + “My friend returned to the gallery, looked once more at the adorable + imprint of the most innocent, the most passionate of caresses. A mirror + hung near by, where he could compare his present with his former face, the + man he was with the man he had been. He never told me and I never asked + what his feelings were at that moment. Did he feel that he was too + culpable to have inspired a passion in a young girl whom he would have + been a fool, almost a criminal, to marry? Did he comprehend that through + his age which was so apparent, it was his youth which this child loved? + Did he remember, with a keenness that was all too sad, that other, who had + never given him a kiss like that at a time when he might have returned it? + I only know that he left the same day, determined never again to see one + whom he could no longer love as he had loved the other, with the hope, the + purity, the soul of a man of twenty.” + </p> + <p> + A few hours after this conversation, I found myself once more in the + office of the Boulevard, seated in Pascal’s den, and he was saying, + “Already? Have you accomplished your interview with Pierre Fauchery?” + </p> + <p> + “He would not even receive me,” I replied, boldly. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” he sneered, shrugging his big + shoulders. “We’ll get even with him on his next volume. But + you know, Labarthe, as long as you continue to have that innocent look + about you, you can’t expect to succeed in newspaper work.” + </p> + <p> + I bore with the ill-humor of my chief. What would he have said if he had + known that I had in my pocket an interview and in my head an anecdote + which were material for a most successful story? And he has never had + either the interview or the story. Since then I have made my way in the + line where he said I should fail. I have lost my innocent look and I earn + my thirty thousand francs a year, and more. I have never had the same + pleasure in the printing of the most profitable, the most brilliant + article that I had in consigning to oblivion the sheets relating my visit + to Nemours. I often think that I have not served the cause of letters as I + wanted to, since, with all my laborious work I have never written a book. + And yet when I recall the irresistible impulse of respect which prevented + me from committing toward a dearly loved master a most profitable but + infamous indiscretion, I say to myself, “If you have not served the + cause of letters, you have not betrayed it.” And this is the reason, + now that Fauchery is no longer of this world, that it seems to me that the + time has come for me to relate my first interview. There is none of which + I am more proud. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MATEO FALCONE By Prosper Merimee + </h2> + <p> + On leaving Porto-Vecchio from the northwest and directing his steps + towards the interior of the island, the traveller will notice that the + land rises rapidly, and after three hours’ walking over tortuous + paths obstructed by great masses of rock and sometimes cut by ravines, he + will find himself on the border of a great mâquis. The mâquis is the + domain of the Corsican shepherds and of those who are at variance with + justice. It must be known that, in order to save himself the trouble of + manuring his field, the Corsican husbandman sets fire to a piece of + woodland. If the flame spread farther than is necessary, so much the + worse! In any case he is certain of a good crop from the land fertilized + by the ashes of the trees which grow upon it. He gathers only the heads of + his grain, leaving the straw, which it would be unnecessary labor to cut. + In the following spring the roots that have remained in the earth without + being destroyed send up their tufts of sprouts, which in a few years reach + a height of seven or eight feet. It is this kind of tangled thicket that + is called a mâquis. They are made up of different kinds of trees and + shrubs, so crowded and mingled together at the caprice of nature that only + with an axe in hand can a man open a passage through them, and mâquis are + frequently seen so thick and bushy that the wild sheep themselves cannot + penetrate them. + </p> + <p> + If you have killed a man, go into the mâquis of Porto-Vecchio. With a good + gun and plenty of powder and balls, you can live there in safety. Do not + forget a brown cloak furnished with a hood, which will serve you for both + cover and mattress. The shepherds will give you chestnuts, milk and + cheese, and you will have nothing to fear from justice nor the relatives + of the dead except when it is necessary for you to descend to the city to + replenish your ammunition. + </p> + <p> + When I was in Corsica in 18—, Mateo Falcone had his house half a + league from this mâquis. He was rich enough for that country, living in + noble style—that is to say, doing nothing—on the income from + his flocks, which the shepherds, who are a kind of nomads, lead to pasture + here and there on the mountains. When I saw him, two years after the event + that I am about to relate, he appeared to me to be about fifty years old + or more. Picture to yourself a man, small but robust, with curly hair, + black as jet, an aquiline nose, thin lips, large, restless eyes, and a + complexion the color of tanned leather. His skill as a marksman was + considered extraordinary even in his country, where good shots are so + common. For example, Mateo would never fire at a sheep with buckshot; but + at a hundred and twenty paces, he would drop it with a ball in the head or + shoulder, as he chose. He used his arms as easily at night as during the + day. I was told this feat of his skill, which will, perhaps, seem + impossible to those who have not travelled in Corsica. A lighted candle + was placed at eighty paces, behind a paper transparency about the size of + a plate. He would take aim, then the candle would be extinguished, and, at + the end of a moment, in the most complete darkness, he would fire and hit + the paper three times out of four. + </p> + <p> + With such a transcendent accomplishment, Mateo Falcone had acquired a + great reputation. He was said to be as good a friend as he was a dangerous + enemy; accommodating and charitable, he lived at peace with all the world + in the district of Porto-Vecchio. But it is said of him that in Corte, + where he had married his wife, he had disembarrassed himself very + vigorously of a rival who was considered as redoubtable in war as in love; + at least, a certain gun-shot which surprised this rival as he was shaving + before a little mirror hung in his window was attributed to Mateo. The + affair was smoothed over and Mateo was married. His wife Giuseppa had + given him at first three daughters (which infuriated him), and finally a + son, whom he named Fortunato, and who became the hope of his family, the + inheritor of the name. The daughters were well married: their father could + count at need on the poignards and carbines of his sons-in-law. The son + was only ten years old, but he already gave promise of fine attributes. + </p> + <p> + On a certain day in autumn, Mateo set out at an early hour with his wife + to visit one of his flocks in a clearing of the mâquis. The little + Fortunato wanted to go with them, but the clearing was too far away; + moreover, it was necessary some one should stay to watch the house; + therefore the father refused: it will be seen whether or not he had reason + to repent. + </p> + <p> + He had been gone some hours, and the little Fortunato was tranquilly + stretched out in the sun, looking at the blue mountains, and thinking that + the next Sunday he was going to dine in the city with his uncle, the + Caporal [Note: Civic Official], when he was suddenly interrupted in his + meditations by the firing of a musket. He got up and turned to that side + of the plain whence the noise came. Other shots followed, fired at + irregular intervals, and each time nearer; at last, in the path which led + from the plain to Mateo’s house, appeared a man wearing the pointed + hat of the mountaineers, bearded, covered with rags, and dragging himself + along with difficulty by the support of his gun. He had just received a + wound in his thigh. + </p> + <p> + This man was an outlaw, who, having gone to the town by night to buy + powder, had fallen on the way into an ambuscade of Corsican + light-infantry. After a vigorous defense he was fortunate in making his + retreat, closely followed and firing from rock to rock. But he was only a + little in advance of the soldiers, and his wound prevented him from + gaining the mâquis before being overtaken. + </p> + <p> + He approached Fortunato and said: “You are the son of Mateo Falcone?”—“Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am Gianetto Saupiero. I am followed by the yellow-collars [Note: + Slang for Gendarmes.]. Hide me, for I can go no farther.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will my father say if I hide you without his permission?” + </p> + <p> + “He will say that you have done well.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Hide me quickly; they are coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till my father gets back.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I wait? Malediction! They will be here in five minutes. + Come, hide me, or I will kill you.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunato answered him with the utmost coolness: + </p> + <p> + “Your gun is empty, and there are no more cartridges in your belt.” + </p> + <p> + “I have my stiletto.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you run as fast as I can?” + </p> + <p> + He gave a leap and put himself out of reach. + </p> + <p> + “You are not the son of Mateo Falcone! Will you then let me be + captured before your house?” + </p> + <p> + The child appeared moved. + </p> + <p> + “What will you give me if I hide you?” said he, coming nearer. + </p> + <p> + The outlaw felt in a leather pocket that hung from his belt, and took out + a five-franc piece, which he had doubtless saved to buy ammunition with. + Fortunato smiled at the sight of the silver piece; he snatched it, and + said to Gianetto: + </p> + <p> + “Fear nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately he made a great hole in a pile of hay that was near the house. + Gianetto crouched down in it and the child covered him in such a way that + he could breathe without it being possible to suspect that the hay + concealed a man. He bethought himself further, and, with the subtlety of a + tolerably ingenious savage, placed a cat and her kittens on the pile, that + it might not appear to have been recently disturbed. Then, noticing the + traces of blood on the path near the house, he covered them carefully with + dust, and, that done, he again stretched himself out in the sun with the + greatest tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + A few moments afterwards, six men in brown uniforms with yellow collars, + and commanded by an Adjutant, were before Mateo’s door. This + Adjutant was a distant relative of Falcone’s. (In Corsica the + degrees of relationship are followed much further than elsewhere.) His + name was Tiodoro Gamba; he was an active man, much dreaded by the outlaws, + several of whom he had already entrapped. + </p> + <p> + “Good day, little cousin,” said he, approaching Fortunato; + “how tall you have grown. Have you seen a man go past here just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am not yet so tall as you, my cousin,” replied the + child with a simple air. + </p> + <p> + “You soon will be. But haven’t you seen a man go by here, tell + me?” + </p> + <p> + “If I have seen a man go by?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a man with a pointed hat of black velvet, and a vest + embroidered with red and yellow.” + </p> + <p> + “A man with a pointed hat, and a vest embroidered with red and + yellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, answer quickly, and don’t repeat my questions?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning the curé passed before our door on his horse, Piero. + He asked me how papa was, and I answered him—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you little scoundrel, you are playing sly! Tell me quickly + which way Gianetto went? We are looking for him, and I am sure he took + this path.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? It is I know that you have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Can any one see who passes when they are asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “You were not asleep, rascal; the shooting woke you up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe, cousin, that your guns make so much noise? My + father’s carbine has the advantage of them.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil take you, you cursed little scapegrace! I am certain that + you have seen Gianetto. Perhaps, even, you have hidden him. Come, + comrades, go into the house and see if our man is there. He could only go + on one foot, and the knave has too much good sense to try to reach the + mâquis limping like that. Moreover, the bloody tracks stop here.” + </p> + <p> + “And what will papa say?” asked Fortunato with a sneer; + “what will he say if he knows that his house has been entered while + he was away?” + </p> + <p> + “You rascal!” said the Adjutant, taking him by the ear, + “do you know that it only remains for me to make you change your + tone? Perhaps you will speak differently after I have given you twenty + blows with the flat of my sword.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunato continued to sneer. + </p> + <p> + “My father is Mateo Falcone,” said he with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “You little scamp, you know very well that I can carry you off to + Corte or to Bastia. I will make you lie in a dungeon, on straw, with your + feet in shackles, and I will have you guillotined if you don’t tell + me where Gianetto is.” + </p> + <p> + The child burst out laughing at this ridiculous menace. He repeated: + </p> + <p> + “My father is Mateo Falcone.” + </p> + <p> + “Adjutant,” said one of the soldiers in a low voice, “let + us have no quarrels with Mateo.” + </p> + <p> + Gamba appeared evidently embarrassed. He spoke in an undertone with the + soldiers who had already visited the house. This was not a very long + operation, for the cabin of a Corsican consists only of a single square + room, furnished with a table, some benches, chests, housekeeping utensils + and those of the chase. In the meantime, little Fortunato petted his cat + and seemed to take a wicked enjoyment in the confusion of the soldiers and + of his cousin. + </p> + <p> + One of the men approached the pile of hay. He saw the cat, and gave the + pile a careless thrust with his bayonet, shrugging his shoulders as if he + felt that his precaution was ridiculous. Nothing moved; the boy’s + face betrayed not the slightest emotion. + </p> + <p> + The Adjutant and his troop were cursing their luck. Already they were + looking in the direction of the plain, as if disposed to return by the way + they had come, when their chief, convinced that menaces would produce no + impression on Falcone’s son, determined to make a last effort, and + try the effect of caresses and presents. + </p> + <p> + “My little cousin,” said he, “you are a very wide-awake + little fellow. You will get along. But you are playing a naughty game with + me; and if I wasn’t afraid of making trouble for my cousin, Mateo, + the devil take me! but I would carry you off with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “But when my cousin comes back I shall tell him about this, and he + will whip you till the blood comes for having told such lies.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so!” + </p> + <p> + “You will see. But hold on!—be a good boy and I will give you + something.” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin, let me give you some advice: if you wait much longer + Gianetto will be in the mâquis and it will take a smarter man than you to + follow him.” + </p> + <p> + The Adjutant took from his pocket a silver watch worth about ten crowns, + and noticing that Fortunato’s eyes sparkled at the sight of it, + said, holding the watch by the end; of its steel chain: + </p> + <p> + “Rascal! you would like to have such a watch as that hung around + your neck, wouldn’t you, and to walk in the streets of Porto-Vecchio + proud as a peacock? People would ask you what time it was, and you would + say: ‘Look at my watch.’” + </p> + <p> + “When I am grown up, my uncle, the Caporal, will give me a watch.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but your uncle’s little boy has one already; not so fine + as this either. But then, he is younger than you.” + </p> + <p> + The child sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Well! Would you like this watch, little cousin?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunato, casting sidelong glances at the watch, resembled a cat that has + been given a whole chicken. It feels that it is being made sport of, and + does not dare to use its claws; from time to time it turns its eyes away + so as not to be tempted, licking its jaws all the while, and has the + appearance of saying to its master, “How cruel your joke is!” + </p> + <p> + However, the Adjutant seemed in earnest in offering his watch. Fortunato + did not reach out his hand for it, but said with a bitter smile: + </p> + <p> + “Why do you make fun of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Good God! I am not making fun of you. Only tell me where Gianetto + is and the watch is yours.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunato smiled incredulously, and fixing his black eyes on those of the + Adjutant tried to read there the faith he ought to have had in his words. + </p> + <p> + “May I lose my epaulettes,” cried the Adjutant, “if I do + not give you the watch on this condition. These comrades are witnesses; I + can not deny it.” + </p> + <p> + While speaking he gradually held the watch nearer till it almost touched + the child’s pale face, which plainly showed the struggle that was + going on in his soul between covetousness and respect for hospitality. His + breast swelled with emotion; he seemed about to suffocate. Meanwhile the + watch was slowly swaying and turning, sometimes brushing against his + cheek. Finally, his right hand was gradually stretched toward it; the ends + of his fingers touched it; then its whole weight was in his hand, the + Adjutant still keeping hold of the chain. The face was light blue; the + cases newly burnished. In the sunlight it seemed to be all on fire. The + temptation was too great. Fortunato raised his left hand and pointed over + his shoulder with his thumb at the hay against which he was reclining. The + Adjutant understood him at once. He dropped the end of the chain and + Fortunato felt himself the sole possessor of the watch. He sprang up with + the agility of a deer and stood ten feet from the pile, which the soldiers + began at once to overturn. + </p> + <p> + There was a movement in the hay, and a bloody man with a poignard in his + hand appeared. He tried to rise to his feet, but his stiffened leg would + not permit it and he fell. The Adjutant at once grappled with him and took + away his stiletto. He was immediately secured, notwithstanding his + resistance. + </p> + <p> + Gianetto, lying on the earth and bound like a fagot, turned his head + towards Fortunato, who had approached. + </p> + <p> + “Son of—!” said he, with more contempt than anger. + </p> + <p> + The child threw him the silver piece which he had received, feeling that + he no longer deserved it; but the outlaw paid no attention to the + movement, and with great coolness said to the Adjutant: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gamba, I cannot walk; you will be obliged to carry me to + the city.” + </p> + <p> + “Just now you could run faster than a buck,” answered the + cruel captor; “but be at rest. I am so pleased to have you that I + would carry you a league on my back without fatigue. Besides, comrade, we + are going to make a litter for you with your cloak and some branches, and + at the Crespoli farm we shall find horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said the prisoner, “You will also put a little + straw on your litter that I may be more comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + While some of the soldiers were occupied in making a kind of stretcher out + of some chestnut boughs and the rest were dressing Gianetto’s wound, + Mateo Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared at a turn in the path that + led to the mâquis. The woman was staggering under the weight of an + enormous sack of chestnuts, while her husband was sauntering along, + carrying one gun in his hands, while another was slung across his + shoulders, for it is unworthy of a man to carry other burdens than his + arms. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of the soldiers Mateo’s first thought was that they had + come to arrest him. But why this thought? Had he then some quarrels with + justice? No. He enjoyed a good reputation. He was said to have a + particularly good name, but he was a Corsican and a highlander, and there + are few Corsican highlanders who, in scrutinizing their memory, can not + find some peccadillo, such as a gun-shot, dagger-thrust, or similar + trifles. Mateo more than others had a clear conscience; for more than ten + years he had not pointed his carbine at a man, but he was always prudent, + and put himself into a position to make a good defense if necessary. + “Wife,” said he to Giuseppa, “put down the sack and hold + yourself ready.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed at once. He gave her the gun that was slung across his + shoulders, which would have bothered him, and, cocking the one he held in + his hands, advanced slowly towards the house, walking among the trees that + bordered the road, ready at the least hostile demonstration, to hide + behind the largest, whence he could fire from under cover. His wife + followed closely behind, holding his reserve weapon and his cartridge-box. + The duty of a good housekeeper, in case of a fight, is to load her husband’s + carbines. + </p> + <p> + On the other side the Adjutant was greatly troubled to see Mateo advance + in this manner, with cautious steps, his carbine raised, and his finger on + the trigger. + </p> + <p> + “If by chance,” thought he, “Mateo should be related to + Gianetto, or if he should be his friend and wish to defend him, the + contents of his two guns would arrive amongst us as certainly as a letter + in the post; and if he should see me, notwithstanding the relationship!” + </p> + <p> + In this perplexity he took a bold step. It was to advance alone towards + Mateo and tell him of the affair while accosting him as an old + acquaintance, but the short space that separated him from Mateo seemed + terribly long. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! old comrade,” cried he. “How do you do, my good + fellow? It is I, Gamba, your cousin.” + </p> + <p> + Without answering a word, Mateo stopped, and in proportion as the other + spoke, slowly raised the muzzle of his gun so that it was pointing upward + when the Adjutant joined him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, brother,” said the Adjutant, holding out his hand. + “It is a long time since I have seen you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, brother.” + </p> + <p> + “I stopped while passing, to say good-day to you and to cousin Pepa + here. We have had a long journey to-day, but have no reason to complain, + for we have captured a famous prize. We have just seized Gianetto + Saupiero.” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised!” cried Giuseppa. “He stole a milch goat + from us last week.” + </p> + <p> + These words reassured Gamba. + </p> + <p> + “Poor devil!” said Mateo, “he was hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “The villain fought like a lion,” continued the Adjutant, a + little mortified. “He killed one of my soldiers, and not content + with that, broke Caporal Chardon’s arm; but that matters little, he + is only a Frenchman. Then, too, he was so well hidden that the devil + couldn’t have found him. Without my little cousin, Fortunato, I + should never have discovered him.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunato!” cried Mateo. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunato!” repeated Giuseppa. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gianetto was hidden under the hay-pile yonder, but my little + cousin showed me the trick. I shall tell his uncle, the Caporal, that he + may send him a fine present for his trouble. Both his name and yours will + be in the report that I shall send to the Attorney-general.” + </p> + <p> + “Malediction!” said Mateo in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + They had rejoined the detachment. Gianetto was already lying on the litter + ready to set out. When he saw Mateo and Gamba in company he smiled a + strange smile, then, turning his head towards the door of the house, he + spat on the sill, saying: + </p> + <p> + “House of a traitor.” + </p> + <p> + Only a man determined to die would dare pronounce the word traitor to + Falcone. A good blow with the stiletto, which there would be no need of + repeating, would have immediately paid the insult. However, Mateo made no + other movement than to place his hand on his forehead like a man who is + dazed. + </p> + <p> + Fortunato had gone into the house when his father arrived, but now he + reappeared with a bowl of milk which he handed with downcast eyes to + Gianetto. + </p> + <p> + “Get away from me!” cried the outlaw, in a loud voice. Then, + turning to one of the soldiers, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Comrade, give me a drink.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier placed his gourd in his hands, and the prisoner drank the + water handed to him by a man with whom he had just exchanged bullets. He + then asked them to tie his hands across his breast instead of behind his + back. + </p> + <p> + “I like,” said he, “to lie at my ease.” + </p> + <p> + They hastened to satisfy him; then the Adjutant gave the signal to start, + said adieu to Mateo, who did not respond, and descended with rapid steps + towards the plain. + </p> + <p> + Nearly ten minutes elapsed before Mateo spoke. The child looked with + restless eyes, now at his mother, now at his father, who was leaning on + his gun and gazing at him with an expression of concentrated rage. + </p> + <p> + “You begin well,” said Mateo at last with a calm voice, but + frightful to one who knew the man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father!” cried the boy, bursting into tears, and making a + forward movement as if to throw himself on his knees. But Mateo cried, + “Away from me!” + </p> + <p> + The little fellow stopped and sobbed, immovable, a few feet from his + father. + </p> + <p> + Giuseppa drew near. She had just discovered the watch-chain, the end of + which was hanging out of Fortunato’s jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave you that watch?” demanded she in a severe tone. + </p> + <p> + “My cousin, the Adjutant.” + </p> + <p> + Falcone seized the watch and smashed it in a thousand pieces against a + rock. + </p> + <p> + “Wife,” said he, “is this my child?” + </p> + <p> + Giuseppa’s cheeks turned a brick-red. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, Mateo? Do you know to whom you speak?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, this child is the first of his race to commit treason.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunato’s sobs and gasps redoubled as Falcone kept his lynx-eyes + upon him. Then he struck the earth with his gun-stock, shouldered the + weapon, and turned in the direction of the mâquis, calling to Fortunato to + follow. The boy obeyed. Giuseppa hastened after Mateo and seized his arm. + </p> + <p> + “He is your son,” said she with a trembling voice, fastening + her black eyes on those of her husband to read what was going on in his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone,” said Mateo, “I am his father.” + </p> + <p> + Giuseppa embraced her son, and bursting into tears entered the house. She + threw herself on her knees before an image of the Virgin and prayed + ardently. In the meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred paces along the + path and only stopped when he reached a little ravine which he descended. + He tried the earth with the butt-end of his carbine, and found it soft and + easy to dig. The place seemed to be convenient for his design. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunato, go close to that big rock there.” + </p> + <p> + The child did as he was commanded, then he kneeled. + </p> + <p> + “Say your prayers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father, father, do not kill me!” + </p> + <p> + “Say your prayers!” repeated Mateo in a terrible voice. + </p> + <p> + The boy, stammering and sobbing, recited the Pater and the Credo. At the + end of each prayer the father loudly answered, “Amen!” + </p> + <p> + “Are those all the prayers you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! father, I know the Ave Maria and the litany that my aunt taught + me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very long, but no matter.” + </p> + <p> + The child finished the litany in a scarcely audible tone. + </p> + <p> + “Are you finished?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my father, have mercy! Pardon me! I will never do so again. I + will beg my cousin, the Caporal, to pardon Gianetto.” + </p> + <p> + He was still speaking. Mateo raised his gun, and, taking aim, said: + </p> + <p> + “May God pardon you!” + </p> + <p> + The boy made a desperate effort to rise and grasp his father’s + knees, but there was not time. Mateo fired and Fortunato fell dead. + </p> + <p> + Without casting a glance on the body, Mateo returned to the house for a + spade with which to bury his son. He had gone but a few steps when he met + Giuseppa, who, alarmed by the shot, was hastening hither. + </p> + <p> + “What have you done?” cried she. + </p> + <p> + “Justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In the ravine. I am going to bury him. He died a Christian. I shall + have a mass said for him. Have my son-in-law, Tiodoro Bianchi, sent for to + come and live with us.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MIRROR By Catulle Mendes + </h2> + <p> + There was once a kingdom where mirrors were unknown. They had all been + broken and reduced to fragments by order of the queen, and if the tiniest + bit of looking-glass had been found in any house, she would not have + hesitated to put all the inmates to death with the most frightful + tortures. + </p> + <p> + Now for the secret of this extraordinary caprice. The queen was dreadfully + ugly, and she did not wish to be exposed to the risk of meeting her own + image; and, knowing herself to be hideous, it was a consolation to know + that other women at least could not see that they were pretty. + </p> + <p> + You may imagine that the young girls of the country were not at all + satisfied. What was the use of being beautiful if you could not admire + yourself? + </p> + <p> + They might have used the brooks and lakes for mirrors; but the queen had + foreseen that, and had hidden all of them under closely joined flagstones. + Water was drawn from wells so deep that it was impossible to see the + liquid surface, and shallow basins must be used instead of buckets, + because in the latter there might be reflections. + </p> + <p> + Such a dismal state of affairs, especially for the pretty coquettes, who + were no more rare in this country than in others. + </p> + <p> + The queen had no compassion, being well content that her subjects should + suffer as much annoyance from the lack of a mirror as she felt at the + sight of one. + </p> + <p> + However, in a suburb of the city there lived a young girl called Jacinta, + who was a little better off than the rest, thanks to her sweetheart, + Valentin. For if someone thinks you are beautiful, and loses no chance to + tell you so, he is almost as good as a mirror. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the truth,” she would say; “what is the color + of my eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “They are like dewy forget-me-nots.” + </p> + <p> + “And my skin is not quite black?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that your forehead is whiter than freshly fallen snow, and + your cheeks are like blush roses.” + </p> + <p> + “How about my lips?” + </p> + <p> + “Cherries are pale beside them.” + </p> + <p> + “And my teeth, if you please?” + </p> + <p> + “Grains of rice are not as white.” + </p> + <p> + “But my ears, should I be ashamed of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you would be ashamed of two little pink shells among your + pretty curls.” + </p> + <p> + And so on endlessly; she delighted, he still more charmed, for his words + came from the depth of his heart and she had the pleasure of hearing + herself praised, he the delight of seeing her. So their love grew more + deep and tender every hour, and the day that he asked her to marry him she + blushed certainly, but it was not with anger. But, unluckily, the news of + their happiness reached the wicked queen, whose only pleasure was to + torment others, and Jacinta more than anyone else, on account of her + beauty. + </p> + <p> + A little while before the marriage Jacinta was walking in the orchard one + evening, when an old crone approached, asking for alms, but suddenly + jumped back with a shriek as if she had stepped on a toad, crying: “Heavens, + what do I see?” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, my good woman? What is it you see? Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “The ugliest creature I ever beheld.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not looking at me,” said Jacinta, with innocent + vanity. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! yes, my poor child, it is you. I have been a long time on + this earth, but never have I met anyone so hideous as you!” + </p> + <p> + “What! am I ugly?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred times uglier than I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But my eyes—” + </p> + <p> + “They are a sort of dirty gray; but that would be nothing if you had + not such an outrageous squint!” + </p> + <p> + “My complexion—” + </p> + <p> + “It looks as if you had rubbed coal-dust on your forehead and + cheeks.” + </p> + <p> + “My mouth—” + </p> + <p> + “It is pale and withered, like a faded flower.” + </p> + <p> + “My teeth—” + </p> + <p> + “If the beauty of teeth is to be large and yellow, I never saw any + so beautiful as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “But, at least, my ears—” + </p> + <p> + “They are so big, so red, and so misshapen, under your coarse + elf-locks, that they are revolting. I am not pretty myself, but I should + die of shame if mine were like them.” After this last blow, the old + witch, having repeated what the queen had taught her, hobbled off, with a + harsh croak of laughter, leaving poor Jacinta dissolved in tears, prone on + the ground beneath the apple-trees. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Nothing could divert her mind from her grief. “I am ugly—I am + ugly,” she repeated constantly. It was in vain that Valentin assured + and reassured her with the most solemn oaths. “Let me alone; you are + lying out of pity. I understand it all now; you never loved me; you are + only sorry for me. The beggar woman had no interest in deceiving me. It is + only too true—I am ugly. I do not see how you can endure the sight + of me.” + </p> + <p> + To undeceive her, he brought people from far and near; every man declared + that Jacinta was created to delight the eyes; even the women said as much, + though they were less enthusiastic. But the poor child persisted in her + conviction that she was a repulsive object, and when Valentin pressed her + to name their wedding-day—“I, your wife!” cried she. + “Never! I love you too dearly to burden you with a being so hideous + as I am.” You can fancy the despair of the poor fellow so sincerely + in love. He threw himself on his knees; he prayed; he supplicated; she + answered still that she was too ugly to marry him. + </p> + <p> + What was he to do? The only way to give the lie to the old woman and prove + the truth to Jacinta was to put a mirror before her. But there was no such + thing in the kingdom, and so great was the terror inspired by the queen + that no workman dared make one. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall go to Court,” said the lover, in despair. + “Harsh as our mistress is, she cannot fail to be moved by the tears + and the beauty of Jacinta. She will retract, for a few hours at least, + this cruel edict which has caused our trouble.” + </p> + <p> + It was not without difficulty that he persuaded the young girl to let him + take her to the palace. She did not like to show herself, and asked of + what use would be a mirror, only to impress her more deeply with her + misfortune; but when he wept, her heart was moved, and she consented, to + please him. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “What is all this?” said the wicked queen. “Who are + these people? and what do they want?” + </p> + <p> + “Your Majesty, you have before you the most unfortunate lover on the + face of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you consider that a good reason for coming here to annoy me?” + </p> + <p> + “Have pity on me.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I to do with your love affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “If you would permit a mirror——” + </p> + <p> + The queen rose to her feet, trembling with rage. “Who dares to speak + to me of a mirror?” she said, grinding her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be angry, your Majesty, I beg of you, and deign to hear me. + This young girl whom you see before you, so fresh and pretty, is the + victim of a strange delusion. She imagines that she is ugly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the queen, with a malicious grin, “she is + right. I never saw a more hideous object.” + </p> + <p> + Jacinta, at these cruel words, thought she would die of mortification. + Doubt was no longer possible, she must be ugly. Her eyes closed, she fell + on the steps of the throne in a deadly swoon. + </p> + <p> + But Valentin was affected very differently. He cried out loudly that her + Majesty must be mad to tell such a lie. He had no time to say more. The + guards seized him, and at a sign from the queen the headsman came forward. + He was always beside the throne, for she might need his services at any + moment. + </p> + <p> + “Do your duty,” said the queen, pointing out the man who had + insulted her. The executioner raised his gleaming axe just as Jacinta came + to herself and opened her eyes. Then two shrieks pierced the air. One was + a cry of joy, for in the glittering steel Jacinta saw herself, so + charmingly pretty—and the other a scream of anguish, as the wicked + soul of the queen took flight, unable to bear the sight of her face in the + impromptu mirror. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MY NEPHEW JOSEPH By Ludovic Halevy + </h2> + <p> + (<i>Scene passes at Versailles; two old gentlemen are conversing, seated + on a bench in the King’s garden.</i>) + </p> + <p> + Journalism, my dear Monsieur, is the evil of the times. I tell you what, + if I had a son, I would hesitate a long while before giving him a literary + education. I would have him learn chemistry, mathematics, fencing, + cosmography, swimming, drawing, but not composition—no, not + composition. Then, at least, he would be prevented from becoming a + journalist. It is so easy, so tempting. They take pen and paper and write, + it doesn’t matter what, apropos to it doesn’t matter what, and + you have a newspaper article. In order to become a watchmaker, a lawyer, + an upholsterer, in short, all the liberal arts, study, application, and a + special kind of knowledge are necessary; but nothing like that is required + for a journalist.” + </p> + <p> + “You are perfectly right, my dear Monsieur, the profession of + journalism should be restricted by examinations, the issuing of warrants, + the granting of licenses—” + </p> + <p> + “And they could pay well for their licenses, these gentlemen. Do you + know that journalism is become very profitable? There are some young men + in it who, all at once, without a fixed salary, and no capital whatever, + make from ten, twenty to thirty thousand francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, that is strange! But how do they become journalists?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! It appears they generally commence by being reporters. + Reporters slip in everywhere, in official gatherings, and theatres, never + missing a first night, nor a fire, nor a great ball, nor a murder.” + </p> + <p> + “How well acquainted you are with all this!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very well acquainted. Ah! Mon Dieu! You are my friend, you + will keep my secret, and if you will not repeat this in Versailles—I + will tell you how it is—we have one in the family.” + </p> + <p> + “One what?” + </p> + <p> + “A reporter.” + </p> + <p> + “A reporter in your family, which always seemed so united! How can + that be?” + </p> + <p> + “One can almost say that the devil was at the bottom of it. You know + my nephew Joseph—” + </p> + <p> + “Little Joseph! Is he a reporter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Little Joseph, I can see him in the park now, rolling a hoop, + bare-legged, with a broad white collar, not more than six or seven years + ago—and now he writes for newspapers!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, newspapers! You know my brother keeps a pharmacy in the Rue + Montorgueil, an old and reliable firm, and naturally my brother said to + himself, ‘After me, my son.’ Joseph worked hard at chemistry, + followed the course of study, and had already passed an examination. The + boy was steady and industrious, and had a taste for the business. On + Sundays for recreation he made tinctures, prepared prescriptions, pasted + the labels and rolled pills. When, as misfortune would have it, a murder + was committed about twenty feet from my brother’s pharmacy—” + </p> + <p> + “The murder of the Rue Montorgueil—that clerk who killed his + sweetheart, a little brewery maid?” + </p> + <p> + “The very same. Joseph was attracted by the cries, saw the murderer + arrested, and after the police were gone stayed there in the street, + talking and jabbering. The Saturday before, Joseph had a game of billiards + with the murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “With the murderer!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! accidentally—he knew him by sight, went to the same café, + that’s all, and they had played at pool together, Joseph and the + murderer—a man named Nicot. Joseph told this to the crowd, and you + may well imagine how important that made him, when suddenly a little blond + man seized him. ‘You know the murderer?’ ‘A little, not + much; I played pool with him.’ ‘And do you know the motive of + the crime?’ ‘It was love, Monsieur, love; Nicot had met a + girl, named Eugénie—’ ‘You knew the victim, too?’ + ‘Only by sight, she was there in the café the night we played.’ + ‘Very well; but don’t tell that to anybody; come, come, quick.’ + He took possession of Joseph and made him get into a cab, which went + rolling off at great speed down the Boulevard des Italiens. Ten minutes + after, Joseph found himself in a hall where there was a big table, around + which five or six young men were writing. ‘Here is a fine sensation,’ + said the little blond on entering. ‘The best kind of a murder! a murder + for love, in the Rue Montorgueil, and I have here the murderer’s + most intimate friend.’ ‘No, not at all,’ cried Joseph, + ‘I scarcely know him.’ ‘Be still,’ whispered the + little blond to Joseph; then he continued, ‘Yes, his most intimate + friend. They were brought up together, and a quarter of an hour before the + crime was committed were playing billiards. The murderer won, he was + perfectly calm——’ ‘That’s not it, it was + last Saturday that I played with——’ ‘Be still, + will you! A quarter of an hour, it is more to the point. Let’s go. + Come, come.’ He took Joseph into a small room where they were alone, + and said to him: ‘That affair ought to make about a hundred lines—you + talk—I’ll write—there will be twenty francs for you.’ + ‘Twenty francs!’ ‘Yes, and here they are in advance; but be + quick, to business!’ Joseph told all he knew to the gentleman—how + an old and retired Colonel, who lived in the house where the murder was + committed, was the first to hear the victim’s cries; but he was + paralyzed in both limbs, this old Colonel, and could only ring for the + servant, an old cuirassier, who arrested the assassin. In short, with all + the information concerning the game of billiards, Eugénie and the + paralytic old Colonel, the man composed his little article, and sent + Joseph away with twenty francs. Do you think it ended there?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think anything—I am amazed! Little Joseph a + reporter!” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly had Joseph stepped outside, when another man seized him—a + tall, dark fellow. ‘I’ve been watching for you,’ he said + to Joseph. ‘You were present when the murder was committed in the + Rue Montorgueil!’ ‘Why, no, I was not present——’ + ‘That will do. I am well informed, come.’ ‘Where to?’ + ‘To my newspaper office.’ ‘What for?’ ‘To tell me + about the murder.’ ‘But I’ve already told all I know, + there, in that house.’ ‘Come, you will still remember a few + more little incidents—and I will give you twenty francs.’ + ‘Twenty francs!’ ‘Come, come.’ Another hall, another + table, more young men writing, and again Joseph was interrogated. He + recommenced the history of the old Colonel. ‘Is that what you told + them down there?’ inquired the tall, dark man of Joseph. ‘Yes, + Monsieur.’ ‘That needs some revision, then.’ And the + tall, dark man made up a long story. How this old Colonel had been + paralyzed for fourteen years, but on hearing the victim’s + heartrending screams, received such a shock that all at once, as if by a + miracle, had recovered the use of his legs; and it was he who had started + out in pursuit of the murderer and had him arrested. + </p> + <p> + “While dashing this off with one stroke of his pen, the man + exclaimed: ‘Good! this is perfect! a hundred times better than the other + account.’ ‘Yes,’ said Joseph, ‘but it is not true.’ + ‘Not true for you, because you are acquainted with the affair; but + for our hundred thousand readers, who do not know about it, it will be + true enough. They were not there, those hundred thousand readers. What do + they want? A striking account—well! they shall have it!’ And + thereupon he discharged Joseph, who went home with his forty francs, and + who naturally did not boast of his escapade. It is only of late that he + has acknowledged it. However, from that day Joseph has shown less interest + in the pharmacy. He bought a number of penny papers, and shut himself up + in his room to write—no one knows what. At last he wore a + business-like aspect, which was very funny. About six months ago I went to + Paris to collect the dividends on my Northern stock.” + </p> + <p> + “The Northern is doing very well; it went up this week——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it’s good stock. Well, I had collected my dividends and + had left the Northern Railway Station. It was beautiful weather, so I + walked slowly down the Rue Lafayette. (I have a habit of strolling a + little in Paris after I have collected my dividends.) When at the corner + of the Faubourg Montmartre, whom should I see but my nephew, Joseph, all + alone in a victoria, playing the fine gentleman. I saw very well that he + turned his head away, the vagabond! But I overtook the carriage and + stopped the driver. ‘What are you doing there?’ ‘A + little drive, uncle.’ ‘Wait, I will go with you,’ and in + I climbed. ‘Hurry up,’ said the driver, ‘or I’ll + lose the trail.’ ‘What trail?’ ‘Why, the two cabs + we are following.’ The man drove at a furious rate, and I asked + Joseph why he was there in that victoria, following two cabs. ‘Mon + Dieu, uncle,’ he replied, ‘there was a foreigner, a Spaniard, + who came to our place in the Rue Montorgueil and bought a large amount of + drugs, and has not paid us, so I am going after him to find out if he has + not given us a wrong address.’ ‘And that Spaniard is in both + the cabs?’ ‘No, uncle, he is only in one, the first.’ + ‘And who is in the second?’ ‘I don’t know, probably + another creditor, like myself, in pursuit of the Spaniard.’ ‘Well, + I am going to stay with you; I have two hours to myself before the train + leaves at five o’clock and I adore this sort of thing, riding around + Paris in an open carriage. Let’s follow the Spaniard!’ And + then the chase commenced, down the boulevards, across the squares, through + the streets, the three drivers cracking their whips and urging their + horses on. This man-hunt began to get exciting. It recalled to my mind the + romances in the Petit Journal. Finally, in a little street, belonging to + the Temple Quarter, the first cab stopped.” + </p> + <p> + “The Spaniard?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A man got out of it—he had a large hat drawn down over + his eyes and a big muffler wrapped about his neck. Presently three + gentlemen, who had jumped from the second cab, rushed upon that man. I + wanted to do the same, but Joseph tried to prevent me. ‘Don’t + stir, uncle!’ ‘Why not? But they are going to deprive us of + the Spaniard!’ And I dashed forward. ‘Take care, uncle, don’t + be mixed up in that affair.’ But I was already gone. When I arrived + they were putting the handcuffs on the Spaniard. I broke through the crowd + which had collected, and cried, ‘Wait, Messieurs, wait; I also + demand a settlement with this man.’ They made way for me. ‘You + know this man?’ asked one of the gentlemen from the second cab, a + short, stout fellow. ‘Perfectly; he is a Spaniard.’ ‘I a + Spaniard!’ ‘Yes, a Spaniard.’ ‘Good,’ said the + short, stout man, ‘Here’s the witness!’ and, addressing + himself to one of the men, ‘Take Monsieur to the Prefecture + immediately.’ ‘But I have not the time; I live in Versailles; my + wife expects me by the five o’clock train, and we have company to + dinner, and I must take home a pie. I will come back to-morrow at any hour + you wish.’ ‘No remarks,’ said the short, stout man, + ‘but be off; I am the Police Commissioner.’ ‘But, + Monsieur the Commissioner, I know nothing about it; it is my nephew Joseph + who will tell you,’ and I called ‘Joseph! Joseph!’ but + no Joseph came.” + </p> + <p> + “He had decamped?” + </p> + <p> + “With the victoria. They packed me in one of the two cabs with the + detective, a charming man and very distinguished. Arriving at the + Prefecture, they deposited me in a small apartment filled with vagabonds, + criminals, and low, ignorant people. An hour after they came for me in + order to bring me up for examination.” + </p> + <p> + “You were brought up for examination?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Monsieur, I was. A policeman conducted me through the + Palais de Justice, before the magistrate, a lean man, who asked me my name + and address. I replied that I lived in Versailles, and that I had company + to dinner; he interrupted me, ‘You know the prisoner?’ + pointing to the man with the muffler, ‘Speak up.’ But he + questioned me so threateningly that I became disconcerted, for I felt that + he was passing judgment upon me. Then in my embarrassment the words did + not come quickly. I finished, moreover, by telling him that I knew the man + without knowing him; then he became furious: ‘What’s that you + say? You know a man without knowing him! At least explain yourself!’ + I was all of a tremble, and said that I knew he was a Spaniard, but the + man replied that he was not a Spaniard. ‘Well, well,’ said the + Judge. ‘Denial, always denial; it is your way.’ ‘I tell + you that my name is Rigaud, and that I was born in Josey, in Josas; they + are not Spaniards that are born in Josey, in Josas.’ ‘Always + contradiction; very good, very good!’ And the Judge addressed + himself to me. ‘Then this man is a Spaniard?’ ‘Yes, + Monsieur the Judge, so I have been told.’ ‘Do you know + anything more about him?’ ‘I know he made purchases at my + brother’s pharmacy in the Rue Montorgueil.’ ‘At a + pharmacy! and he bought, did he not, some chlorate of potash, azotite of + potash, and sulphur powder; in a word, materials to manufacture + explosives.’ ‘I don’t know what he bought. I only know + that he did not pay, that’s all.’ ‘Parbleau! Anarchists + never pay—’ ‘I did not need to pay. I never bought + chlorate of potash in the Rue Montorgueil,’ cried the man; but the + Judge exclaimed, louder still, ‘Yes, it is your audacious habit of + lying, but I will sift this matter to the bottom; sift it, do you + understand. And now why is that muffler on in the month of May?’ + ‘I have a cold,’ replied the other. ‘Haven’t I the + right to have a cold?’ ‘That is very suspicious, very + suspicious. I am going to send for the druggist in the Rue Montorgueil!’” + </p> + <p> + “Then they sent for your brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I wanted to leave, tried to explain to the Judge that my wife + was expecting me in Versailles, that I had already missed the five o’clock + train, that I had company to dinner, and must bring home a pie. ‘You + shall not go,’ replied the Judge, ‘and cease to annoy me with + your dinner and your pie; I will need you for a second examination. The + affair is of the gravest sort.’ I tried to resist, but they led me + away somewhat roughly, and thrust me again into the little apartment with + the criminals. After waiting an hour I was brought up for another + examination. My brother was there. But we could not exchange two words, + for he entered the courtroom by one door and I by another. All this was + arranged perfectly. The man with the muffler was again brought out. The + Judge addressed my brother. ‘Do you recognize the prisoner?’ ‘No.’ + ‘Ah! you see he does not know me!’ ‘Be silent!’ said the + Judge, and he continued talking excitedly: ‘You know the man?’ + ‘Certainly not.’ ‘Think well; you ought to know him.’ + ‘I tell you, no.’ ‘I tell you, yes, and that he bought + some chlorate of potash from you.’ ‘No!’ ‘Ah!’ + cried the Judge, in a passion. ‘Take care, weigh well your words; + you are treading on dangerous ground.’ ‘I!’ exclaimed my + brother. ‘Yes, for there is your brother; you recognize him, I + think.’ ‘Yes, I recognize him.’ ‘That is fortunate. + Well, your brother there says that man owes you money for having bought at + your establishment—I specify—materials to manufacture + explosives.’ ‘But you did not say that.’ ‘No, I wish to + re-establish the facts.’ But that Judge would give no one a chance + to speak. ‘Don’t interrupt me. Who is conducting this + examination, you or I?’ ‘You, Monsieur the Judge?’ + ‘Well, at all events, you said the prisoner owed your brother some + money.’ ‘That I acknowledge.’ ‘But who told you + all this?’ asked my brother. ‘Your son, Joseph!’ ‘Joseph!’ + ‘He followed the man for the sake of the money, which he owed you + for the drugs.’ ‘I understand nothing of all this,’ said + my brother; ‘Neither do I,’ said the man with the muffler; + ‘Neither do I,’ I repeated in my turn; ‘Neither do I any more,’ + cried the Judge; ‘Or rather, yes, there is something that I + understand very well; we have captured a gang, all these men understand + one another, and side with one another; they are a band of Anarchists!’ + ‘That is putting it too strong,’ I protested to the Judge, ‘I, + a landowner, an Anarchist! Can a man be an Anarchist when he owns a house + on the Boulevard de la Reine at Versailles and a cottage at Houlgate, + Calvados? These are facts.’” + </p> + <p> + “That was well answered.” + </p> + <p> + “But this Judge would not listen to anything. He said to my brother, + ‘Where does your son live?’ ‘With me in the Rue Montorgueil.’ + ‘Well, he must be sent for; and in the meanwhile, these two brothers + are to be placed in separate cells.’ Then, losing patience, I cried + that this was infamy! But I felt myself seized and dragged through the + corridors and locked in a little box four feet square. In there I passed + three hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t they find your nephew Joseph?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was not that. It was the Judge. He went off to his dinner, + and took his time about it! Finally, at midnight, they had another + examination. Behold all four of us before the Judge! The man with the + muffler, myself, my brother and Joseph. The Judge began, addressing my + nephew: ‘This man is indeed your father?’ ‘Yes.’ + ‘This man is indeed your uncle?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And + that man is indeed the Spaniard who purchased some chlorate of potash from + you?’ ‘No.’ ‘What! No?’ ‘There,’ + exclaimed the fellow with the muffler. ‘You can see now that these + men do not know me.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ answered the Judge, not at + all disconcerted. ‘Denial again! Let’s see, young man, did you + not say to your uncle——’ ‘Yes, Monsieur the Judge, + that is true.’ ‘Ah! the truth! Here is the truth!’ + exclaimed the Judge, triumphantly. ‘Yes, I told my uncle that the + man purchased drugs from us, but that is not so.’ ‘Why isn’t + it?’ ‘Wait, I will tell you. Unknown to my family I am a + journalist.’ ‘Journalist! My son a journalist! Don’t + believe that, Monsieur the Judge, my son is an apprentice in a pharmacy.’ + ‘Yes, my nephew is an apprentice in a pharmacy,’ I echoed. + ‘These men contradict themselves; this is a gang, decidedly a gang—are + you a journalist, young man, or an apprentice in a pharmacy?’ + ‘I am both.’ ‘That is a lie!’ cried my brother, + now thoroughly angry. ‘And for what newspaper do you write?’ + ‘For no paper at all,’ replied my brother, ‘I know that, + for he is not capable.’ ‘I do not exactly write, Monsieur the + Judge; I procure information; I am a reporter.’ ‘Reporter! My + son a reporter? What’s that he says?’ ‘Will you be + still!’ cried the Judge. For what newspaper are you a reporter?’ + Joseph told the name of the paper. ‘Well,’ resumed the Judge, + ‘we must send for the chief editor immediately—immediately, he + must be awakened and brought here. I will pass the night at court. I’ve + discovered a great conspiracy. Lead these men away and keep them apart.’ + The Judge beamed, for he already saw himself Court Counsellor. They + brought us back, and I assure you I no longer knew where I was. I came and + went up and down the staircases and through the corridors. If anyone had + asked me at the time if I were an accomplice of Ravachol, I would have + answered, ‘Probably.’” + </p> + <p> + “When did all this take place?” + </p> + <p> + “One o’clock in the morning; and the fourth examination did + not take place until two. But, thank Heaven! in five minutes it was all + made clear. The editor of the newspaper arrived, and burst into a hearty + laugh when he learned of the condition of affairs; and this is what he + told the Judge. My nephew had given them the particulars of a murder, and + had been recompensed for it, and then the young man had acquired a taste + for that occupation, and had come to apply for the situation. They had + found him clear-headed, bold, and intelligent, and had sent him to take + notes at the executions, at fires, etc., and the morning after the editor + had a good idea. ‘The detectives were on the lookout for Anarchists, + so I sent my reporters on the heels of each detective, and in this way I + would be the first to hear of all the arrests. Now, you see, it all + explains itself; the detective followed an Anarchist.’” + </p> + <p> + “And your nephew Joseph followed the detective?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he dared not tell the truth, so he told me he was one of + papa’s debtors.’ The man with the muffler was triumphant. + ‘Am I still a Spaniard?’ ‘No, well and good,’ + replied the Judge. ‘But an Anarchist is another thing.’ And in + truth he was; but he only held one, that Judge, and was so vexed because + he believed he had caught a whole gang, and was obliged to discharge us at + four o’clock in the morning. I had to take a carriage to return to + Versailles—got one for thirty francs. But found my poor wife in such + a state!” + </p> + <p> + “And your nephew still clings to journalism?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and makes money for nothing but to ride about Paris that way + in a cab, and to the country in the railway trains. The newspaper men are + satisfied with him.” + </p> + <p> + “What does your brother say to all this?” + </p> + <p> + “He began by turning him out of doors. But when he knew that some + months he made two and three hundred francs, he softened; and then Joseph + is as cute as a monkey. You know my brother invented a cough lozenge, + ‘Dervishes’ lozenges’?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you gave me a box of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! so I did. Well, Joseph found means to introduce into the + account of a murderer’s arrest an advertisement of his father’s + lozenges.”—“How did he do it?” + </p> + <p> + “He told how the murderer was hidden in a panel, and that he could + not be found. But having the influenza, had sneezed, and that had been the + means of his capture. And Joseph added that this would not have happened + to him had he taken the Dervishes Lozenges. You see that pleased my + brother so much that he forgave him. Ah! there is my wife coming to look + for me. Not a word of all this! It is not necessary to repeat that there + is a reporter in the family, and there is another reason for not telling + it. When I want to sell off to the people of Versailles, I go and find + Joseph and tell him of my little plan. He arranges everything for me as it + should be, puts it in the paper quietly, and they don’t know how it + comes there!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A FOREST BETROTHAL By Erckmann-Chatrian + </h2> + <p> + One day in the month of June, 1845, Master Zacharias’ fishing-basket + was so full of salmon-trout, about three o’clock in the afternoon, + that the good man was loath to take any more; for, as Pathfinder says: + “We must leave some for to-morrow!” After having washed his in + a stream and carefully covered them with field-sorrel and rowell, to keep + them fresh; after having wound up his line and bathed his hands and face; + a sense of drowsiness tempted him to take a nap in the heather. The heat + was so excessive that he preferred to wait until the shadows lengthened + before reclimbing the steep ascent of Bigelberg. + </p> + <p> + Breaking his crust of bread and wetting his lips with a draught of + Rikevir, he climbed down fifteen or twenty steps from the path and + stretched himself on the moss-covered ground, under the shade of the + pine-trees; his eyelids heavy with sleep. + </p> + <p> + A thousand animate creatures had lived their long life of an hour, when + the judge was wakened by the whistle of a bird, which sounded strange to + him. He sat up to look around, and judge his surprise; the so-called bird + was a young girl of seventeen or eighteen years of age; fresh, with rosy + cheeks and vermilion lips, brown hair, which hung in two long tresses + behind her. A short poppy-colored skirt, with a tightly-laced bodice, + completed her costume. She was a young peasant, who was rapidly descending + the sandy path down the side of Bigelberg, a basket poised on her head, + and her arms a little sunburned, but plump, were gracefully resting on her + hips. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a charming bird; but she whistles well and her pretty + chin, round like a peach, is sweet to look upon.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Zacharias was all emotion—a rush of hot blood, which made his + heart beat, as it did at twenty, coursed through his veins. Blushing, he + arose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, my pretty one!” he said. + </p> + <p> + The young girl stopped short—opened her big eyes and recognized him + (for who did not know the dear old Judge Zacharias in that part of the + country?). + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, with a bright smile, “it is Mr. + Zacharias Seiler!” + </p> + <p> + The old man approached her—he tried to speak—but all he could + do was to stammer a few unintelligible words, just like a very young man—his + embarrassment was so great that he completely disconcerted the young girl. + At last he managed to say: + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going through the forest at this hour, my dear child?” + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hand and showed him, way at the end of the valley, a + forester’s house. + </p> + <p> + “I am returning to my father’s house, the Corporal Yeri + Foerster. You know him, without doubt, Monsieur le Juge.” + </p> + <p> + “What, are you our brave Yeri’s daughter? Ah, do I know him? A + very worthy man. Then you are little Charlotte of whom he has often spoken + to me when he came with his official reports?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur; I have just come from the town and am returning + home.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a very pretty bunch of Alpine berries you have,’” + exclaimed the old man. + </p> + <p> + She detached the bouquet from her belt and tendered it to him. + </p> + <p> + “If it would please you, Monsieur Seiler.” + </p> + <p> + Zacharias was touched. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” he said, “I will accept it, and I will + accompany you home. I am anxious to see this brave Foerster again. He must + be getting old by now.” + </p> + <p> + “He is about your age, Monsieur le Juge,” said Charlotte + innocently, “between fifty-five and sixty years of age.” + </p> + <p> + This simple speech recalled the good man to his senses, and as he walked + beside her be became pensive. + </p> + <p> + What was he thinking of? Nobody could tell; but how many times, how many + times has it happened that a brave and worthy man, thinking that he had + fulfilled all his duties, finds that he has neglected the greatest, the + most sacred, the most beautiful of all—that of love. And what it + costs him to think of it when it is too late. + </p> + <p> + Soon Mr. Zacharias and Charlotte came to the turn of the valley where the + path spanned a little pond by means of a rustic bridge, and led straight + to the corporal’s house. They could now see Yeri Foerster, his large + felt hat decorated with a twig of heather, his calm eyes, his brown cheeks + and grayish hair, seated on the stone bench near his doorway; two + beautiful hunting dogs, with reddish-brown coats, lay at his feet, and the + high vine arbor behind him rose to the peak of the gable roof. + </p> + <p> + The shadows on Romelstein were lengthening and the setting sun spread its + purple fringe behind the high fir-trees on Alpnach. + </p> + <p> + The old corporal, whose eyes were as piercing as an eagle’s, + recognized Monsieur Zacharias and his daughter from afar. He came toward + them, lifting his felt hat respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome, Monsieur le Juge,” he said in the frank and cordial + voice of a mountaineer; “what happy circumstance has procured me the + honor of a visit?” + </p> + <p> + “Master Yeri,” replied the good man, “I am belated in + your mountains. Have you a vacant corner at your table and a bed at the + disposition of a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the corporal, “if there were but one bed in + the house, should it not be at the service of the best, the most honored + of our ex-magistrates of Stantz? Monsieur Seiler, what an honor you confer + on Yeri Foerster’s humble home.” + </p> + <p> + “Christine, Christine! Monsieur le Juge Zacharias Seiler wishes to + sleep under our roof to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Then a little old woman, her face wrinkled like a vine leaf, but still + fresh and laughing, her head crowned by a cap with wide black ribbons, + appeared on the threshold and disappeared again, murmuring: + </p> + <p> + “What? Is it possible? Monsieur le Juge!” + </p> + <p> + “My good people,” said Mr. Zacharias, “truly you do me + too much honor—I hope—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Juge, if you forget the favors you have done to others, + they remember them.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte placed her basket on the table, feeling very proud at having + been the means of bringing so distinguished a visitor to the house. She + took out the sugar, the coffee and all the little odds and ends of + household provisions which she had purchased in the town. And Zacharias, + gazing at her pretty profile, felt himself agitated once more, his poor + old heart beat more quickly in his bosom and seemed to say to him: “This + is love, Zacharias! This is love! This is love!” + </p> + <p> + To tell you the truth, my dear friends, Mr. Seiler spent the evening with + the Head Forester, Yeri Foerster, perfectly oblivious to the fact of + Therese’s uneasiness, to his promise to return before seven o’clock, + to all his old habits of order and submission. + </p> + <p> + Picture to yourself the large room, the time-browned rafters of the + ceiling, the windows opened on the silent valley, the round table in the + middle of the room, covered with a white cloth, with red stripes running + through it; the light from the lamp, bringing out more clearly the grave + faces of Zacharias and Yeri, the rosy, laughing features of Charlotte, and + Dame Christine’s little cap, with long fluttering streamers. Picture + to yourself the soup-tureen, with gayly-flowered bowl, from which arose an + appetising odor, the dish of trout garnished with parsley, the plates + filled with fruits and little meal cakes as yellow as gold; then worthy + Father Zacharias, handing first one and then the other of the plates of + fruit and cakes to Charlotte, who lowered her eyes, frightened at the old + man’s compliments and tender speeches. + </p> + <p> + Yeri was quite puffed up at his praise, but Dame Christine said: “Ah, + Monsieur le Juge! You are too good. You do not know how much trouble this + little girl gives us, or how headstrong she is when she wants anything. + You will spoil her with so many compliments.” + </p> + <p> + To which speech Mr. Zacharias made reply: + </p> + <p> + “Dame Christine, you possess a treasure! Mademoiselle Charlotte + merits all the good I have said of her.” + </p> + <p> + Then Master Yeri, raising his glass, cried out: “Let us drink to the + health of our good and venerated Judge Zacharias Seiler!” + </p> + <p> + The toast was drunk with a will. + </p> + <p> + Just then the clock, in its hoarse voice, struck the hour of eleven. Out + of doors there was the great silence of the forest, the grasshopper’s + last cry, the vague murmur of the river. As the hour sounded, they rose, + preparatory to retiring. How fresh and agile he felt! With what ardor, had + he dared, would he not have pressed a kiss upon Charlotte’s little + hand! Oh, but he must not think of that now! Later on, perhaps! + </p> + <p> + “Come, Master Yeri,” he said, “it is bedtime. + Good-night, and many thanks for your hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “At what hour do you wish to rise, Monsieur?” asked Christine. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he replied gazing at Charlotte, “I am an early + bird. I do not feel my age, though perhaps you might not think so. I rise + at five o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Like me, Monsieur Seiler,” cried the Head Forester. I rise + before daybreak; but I must confess it is tiresome all the same—we + are no longer young. Ha! Ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! I have never had anything ail me, Master Forester; I have + never been more vigorous or more nimble.” + </p> + <p> + And suiting his actions to his words, he ran briskly up the steep steps of + the staircase. Really Mr. Zacharias was no more than twenty; but his + twenty years lasted about twenty minutes, and once nestled in the large + canopied bed, with the covers drawn up to his chin and his handkerchief + tied around his head, in lieu of a nightcap, he said to himself: + </p> + <p> + “Sleep Zacharias! Sleep! You have great need of rest; you are very + tired.” + </p> + <p> + And the good man slept until nine o’clock. The forester returning + from his rounds, uneasy at his non-appearance, went up to his room and + wished him good morning. Then seeing the sun high in the heavens, hearing + the birds warbling in the foliage, the Judge, ashamed of his boastfulness + of the previous night, arose, alleging as an excuse for his prolonged + slumbers, the fatigue of fishing and the length of the supper of the + evening before. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Monsieur Seiler,” said the forester, “it is + perfectly natural; I would love dearly myself to sleep in the mornings, + but I must always be on the go. What I want is a son-in-law, a strong + youth to replace me; I would voluntarily give him my gun and my hunting + pouch.” + </p> + <p> + Zacharias could not restrain a feeling of great uneasiness at these words. + Being dressed, he descended in silence. Christine was waiting with his + breakfast; Charlotte had gone to the hay field. + </p> + <p> + The breakfast was short, and Mr. Seiler having thanked these good people + for their hospitality, turned his face toward Stantz; he became pensive, + as he thought of the worry to which Mademoiselle Therèse had been + subjected; yet he was not able to tear his hopes from his heart, nor the + thousand charming illusions, which came to him like a latecomer in a nest + of warblers. + </p> + <p> + By Autumn he had fallen so into the habit of going to the forester’s + house that he was oftener there than at his own; and the Head Forester, + not knowing to what love of fishing to attribute these visits, often found + himself embarrassed at being obliged to refuse the multiplicity of + presents which the worthy ex-magistrate (he himself being very much at + home) begged of him to accept in compensation for his daily hospitality. + </p> + <p> + Besides, Mr. Seiler wished to share all his occupations, following him in + his rounds in the Grinderwald and Entilbach. + </p> + <p> + Yeri Foerster often shook his head, saying: “I never knew a more + honest or better judge than Mr. Zacharias Seiler. When I used to bring my + reports to him, formerly, he always praised me, and it is to him that I + owe my raise to the rank of Head Forester. But,” he added to his + wife, “I am afraid the poor man is a little out of his head. Did he + not help Charlotte in the hay field, to the infinite enjoyment of the + peasants? Truly, Christine, it is not right; but then I dare not say so to + him, he is so much above us. Now he wants me to accept a pension—and + such a pension—one hundred florins a month. And that silk dress he + gave Charlotte on her birthday. Do young girls wear silk dresses in our + valley? Is a silk dress the thing for a forester’s daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave him alone,” said the wife. “He is contented with + a little milk and meal. He likes to be with us; it is a change from his + lonesome city life, with no one to talk to but his old governess; whilst + here the little one looks after him. He likes to talk to her. Who knows + but he may end by adopting her and leave her something in his will?” + </p> + <p> + The Head Forester, not knowing what to say, shrugged his shoulders; his + good judgment told him there was some mystery, but he never dreamed of + suspecting the good man’s whole folly. + </p> + <p> + One fine morning a wagon slowly wended its way down the sides of Bigelberg + loaded with three casks of old Rikevir wine. Of all the presents that + could be given to him this was the most acceptable, for Yeri Foerster + loved, above everything else, a good glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “That warms one up,” he would say, laughing. And when he had + tasted this wine he could not help saying: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Zacharias is really the best man in the world. Has he not + filled my cellar for me? Charlotte, go and gather the prettiest flowers in + the garden; cut all the roses and the jasmine, make them into a bouquet, + and when he comes you will present them to him yourself. Charlotte! + Charlotte! Hurry up, here he comes with his long pole.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the old man appeared descending the hillside in the shade + of the pines with a brisk step. + </p> + <p> + As far off as Yeri could make himself heard, he called out, his glass in + his hand: + </p> + <p> + “Here is to the best man I know! Here is to our benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + And Zacharias smiled. Dame Christine had already commenced preparations + for dinner; a rabbit was turning at the spit and the savory odor of the + soup whetted Mr. Seiler’s appetite. + </p> + <p> + The old Judge’s eyes brightened when he saw Charlotte in her short + poppy-colored skirt, her arms bare to the elbow, running here and there in + the garden paths gathering the flowers, and when he saw her approaching + him with her huge bouquet, which she humbly presented to him with downcast + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Juge, will you deign to accept this bouquet from your + little friend Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + A sudden blush overspread his venerable cheeks, and as she stooped to kiss + his hand, he said: + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my dear child; accept rather from your old friend, your + best friend, a more tender embrace.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed both her burning cheeks. The Head Forester laughing heartily, + cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Seiler, come and sit down under the acacia tree and drink + some of your own wine. Ah, my wife is right when she calls you our + benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Zacharias seated himself at the little round table, placing his pole + behind him; Charlotte sat facing him, Yeri Foerster was on his right; then + dinner was served and Mr. Seiler started to speak of his plans for the + future. + </p> + <p> + He was wealthy and had inherited a fine fortune from his parents. He + wished to buy some few hundred acres of forest land in the valley, and + build in the midst a forester’s lodge. “We would always be + together,” he said turning to Yeri Foerster, “sometimes you at + my house, sometimes I at yours.” + </p> + <p> + Christine gave her advice, and they chatted, planning now one thing, then + another. Charlotte seemed perfectly contented, and Zacharias imagined that + these simple people understood him. + </p> + <p> + Thus the time passed, and when night had fallen and they had had a surfeit + of Rikevir, of rabbit and of Dame Christine’s “koechten” + sprinkled with cinnamon. Mr. Seiler, happy and contented, full of joyous + hope, ascended to his room, putting off until to-morrow his declaration, + not doubting for a moment but that it would be accepted. + </p> + <p> + About this time of the year the mountaineers from Harberg, Kusnacht and + the surrounding hamlets descend from their mountains about one o’clock + in the morning and commence to mow the high grass in the valleys. One can + hear their monotonous songs in the middle of the night keeping time to the + circular movement of the scythes, the jingle of the cattle bells, and the + young men’s and girls’ voices laughing afar in the silence of + the night. It is a strange harmony, especially when the night is clear and + there is a bright moon, and the heavy dew falling makes a pitter-patter on + the leaves of the great forest trees. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Zacharias heard nothing of all this, for he was sleeping soundly; but + the noise of a handful of peas being thrown against the window waked him + suddenly. He listened and heard outside at the bottom of the wall, a + “scit! scit!” so softly whispered that you might almost think + it the cry of some bird. Nevertheless, the good man’s heart + fluttered. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + After a few seconds’ silence a soft voice replied: + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte, Charlotte—it is I!” + </p> + <p> + Zacharias trembled; and as he listened with ears on the alert for each + sound, the foliage on the trellis struck against the window and a figure + climbed up quietly—oh so quietly—then stopped and stared into + the room. + </p> + <p> + The old man being indignant at this, rose and opened the window, upon + which the stranger climbed through noiselessly. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be frightened, Charlotte,” he said, “I have come + to tell you some good news. My father will be here tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + He received no response, for the reason that Zacharias was trying to light + the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you, Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “Here I am,” cried the old man turning with a livid face and + gazing fiercely at his rival. + </p> + <p> + The young man who stood before him was tall and slender, with large, + frank, black eyes, brown cheeks, rosy lips, just covered with a little + moustache, and a large brown, felt hat, tilted a little to one side. + </p> + <p> + The apparition of Zacharias stunned him to immovability. But as the Judge + was about to cry out, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “In the name of Heaven, do not call. I am no robber—I love + Charlotte!” + </p> + <p> + “And—she—she?” stammered Zacharias. + </p> + <p> + “She loves me also! Oh, you need have no fear if you are one of her + relations. We were betrothed at the Kusnacht feast. The fiancés of the + Grinderwald and the Entilbach have the right to visit in the night. It is + a custom of Unterwald. All the Swiss know that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yeri Foerster—Yeri, Charlotte’s father, never told me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he does not know of our betrothal yet,” said the other, + in a lower tone of voice; “when I asked his permission last year he + told me to wait—that his daughter was too young yet—we were + betrothed secretly. Only as I had not the Forester’s consent, I did + not come in the night-time. This is the first time. I saw Charlotte in the + town; but the time seemed so long to us both that I ended by confessing + all to my father, and he has promised to see Yeri tomorrow. Ah, Monsieur, + I knew it would give such pleasure to Charlotte that I could not help + coming to announce my good news.” + </p> + <p> + The poor old man fell back in his chair and covered his face with his + hands. Oh, how he suffered! What bitter thoughts passed through his brain; + what a sad awakening after so many sweet and joyous dreams. + </p> + <p> + And the young mountaineer was not a whit more comfortable, as he stood + leaning against a corner of the wall, his arms crossed over his breast, + and the following thoughts running through his head: + </p> + <p> + “If old Foerster, who does not know of our betrothal, finds me here, + he will kill me without listening to one word of explanation. That is + certain.” + </p> + <p> + And he gazed anxiously at the door, his ear on the alert for the least + sound. + </p> + <p> + A few moments afterward, Zacharias lifting his head, as though awakening + from a dream, asked him: + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Karl Imnant, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your business?” + </p> + <p> + “My father hopes to obtain the position of a forester in the + Grinderwald for me.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence and Zacharias looked at the young man with an + envious eye. + </p> + <p> + “And she loves you?” he asked in a broken voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Monsieur; we love each other devotedly.” + </p> + <p> + And Zacharias, letting his eyes fall on his thin legs and his hands + wrinkled and veined, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she ought to love him; he is young and handsome.” + </p> + <p> + And his head fell on his breast again. All at once he arose, trembling in + every limb, and opened the window. + </p> + <p> + “Young man, you have done very wrong; you will never know how much + wrong you have really done. You must obtain Mr. Foerster’s consent—but + go—go—you will hear from me soon.” + </p> + <p> + The young mountaineer did not wait for a second invitation; with one bound + he jumped to the path below and disappeared behind the grand old trees. + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor Zacharias,” the old Judge murmured, “all + your illusions are fled.” + </p> + <p> + At seven o’clock, having regained his usual calmness of demeanor, he + descended to the room below, where Charlotte, Dame Christine and Yeri were + already waiting breakfast for him. The old man, turning his eyes from the + young girl, advanced to the Head Forester, saying: + </p> + <p> + “My friend, I have a favor to ask of you. You know the son of the + forester of the Grinderwald, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Karl Imnant, why yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “He is a worthy young man, and well behaved, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he capable of succeeding his father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is twenty-one years old; he knows all about tree-clipping, + which is the most necessary thing of all—he knows how to read and + how to write; but that is not all; he must have influence.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Master Yeri, I still have some influence in the Department of + Forests and Rivers. This day fortnight, or three weeks at the latest, Karl + Imnant shall be Assistant Forester of the Grinderwald, and I ask the hand + of your daughter Charlotte for this brave young man.” + </p> + <p> + At this request, Charlotte, who had blushed and trembled with fear, + uttered a cry and fell back into her mother’s arms. + </p> + <p> + Her father looking at her severely, said: “What is the matter, + Charlotte? Do you refuse?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no, father—no!” + </p> + <p> + “That is as it should be! As for myself, I should never have refused + any request of Mr. Zacharias Seiler’s! Come here and embrace your + benefactor.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte ran toward him and the old man pressed her to his heart, gazing + long and earnestly at her, with eyes filled with tears. Then pleading + business he started home, with only a crust of bread in his basket for + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Fifteen days afterward, Karl Imnant received the appointment of forester, + taking his father’s place. Eight days later, he and Charlotte were + married. + </p> + <p> + The guests drank the rich Rikevir wine, so highly esteemed by Yeri + Foerster, and which seemed to him to have arrived so opportunely for the + feast. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Zacharias Seiler was not present that day at the wedding, being ill at + home. Since then he rarely goes fishing—and then, always to the + Brünnen—toward the lake—on the other side of the mountain. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ZADIG THE BABYLONIAN By Francois Marie Arouet De Voltaire + </h2> + <h3> + THE BLIND OF ONE EYE + </h3> + <p> + There lived at Babylon, in the reign of King Moabdar, a young man named + Zadig, of a good natural disposition, strengthened and improved by + education. Though rich and young, he had learned to moderate his passions; + he had nothing stiff or affected in his behavior, he did not pretend to + examine every action by the strict rules of reason, but was always ready + to make proper allowances for the weakness of mankind. + </p> + <p> + It was matter of surprise that, notwithstanding his sprightly wit, he + never exposed by his raillery those vague, incoherent, and noisy + discourses, those rash censures, ignorant decisions, coarse jests, and all + that empty jingle of words which at Babylon went by the name of + conversation. He had learned, in the first book of Zoroaster, that self + love is a football swelled with wind, from which, when pierced, the most + terrible tempests issue forth. + </p> + <p> + Above all, Zadig never boasted of his conquests among the women, nor + affected to entertain a contemptible opinion of the fair sex. He was + generous, and was never afraid of obliging the ungrateful; remembering the + grand precept of Zoroaster, “When thou eatest, give to the dogs, + should they even bite thee.” He was as wise as it is possible for + man to be, for he sought to live with the wise. + </p> + <p> + Instructed in the sciences of the ancient Chaldeans, he understood the + principles of natural philosophy, such as they were then supposed to be; + and knew as much of metaphysics as hath ever been known in any age, that + is, little or nothing at all. He was firmly persuaded, notwithstanding the + new philosophy of the times, that the year consisted of three hundred and + sixty-five days and six hours, and that the sun was in the center of the + world. But when the principal magi told him, with a haughty and + contemptuous air, that his sentiments were of a dangerous tendency, and + that it was to be an enemy to the state to believe that the sun revolved + round its own axis, and that the year had twelve months, he held his + tongue with great modesty and meekness. + </p> + <p> + Possessed as he was of great riches, and consequently of many friends, + blessed with a good constitution, a handsome figure, a mind just and + moderate, and a heart noble and sincere, he fondly imagined that he might + easily be happy. He was going to be married to Semira, who, in point of + beauty, birth, and fortune, was the first match in Babylon. He had a real + and virtuous affection for this lady, and she loved him with the most + passionate fondness. + </p> + <p> + The happy moment was almost arrived that was to unite them forever in the + bands of wedlock, when happening to take a walk together toward one of the + gates of Babylon, under the palm trees that adorn the banks of the + Euphrates, they saw some men approaching, armed with sabers and arrows. + These were the attendants of young Orcan, the minister’s nephew, + whom his uncle’s creatures had flattered into an opinion that he + might do everything with impunity. He had none of the graces nor virtues + of Zadig; but thinking himself a much more accomplished man, he was + enraged to find that the other was preferred before him. This jealousy, + which was merely the effect of his vanity, made him imagine that he was + desperately in love with Semira; and accordingly he resolved to carry her + off. The ravishers seized her; in the violence of the outrage they wounded + her, and made the blood flow from her person, the sight of which would + have softened the tigers of Mount Imaus. She pierced the heavens with her + complaints. She cried out, “My dear husband! they tear me from the + man I adore.” Regardless of her own danger, she was only concerned + for the fate of her dear Zadig, who, in the meantime, defended himself + with all the strength that courage and love could inspire. Assisted only + by two slaves, he put the ravishers to flight and carried home Semira, + insensible and bloody as she was. + </p> + <p> + On opening her eyes and beholding her deliverer. “O Zadig!” + said she, “I loved thee formerly as my intended husband; I now love + thee as the preserver of my honor and my life.” Never was heart more + deeply affected than that of Semira. Never did a more charming mouth + express more moving sentiments, in those glowing words inspired by a sense + of the greatest of all favors, and by the most tender transports of a + lawful passion. + </p> + <p> + Her wound was slight and was soon cured. Zadig was more dangerously + wounded; an arrow had pierced him near his eye, and penetrated to a + considerable depth. Semira wearied Heaven with her prayers for the + recovery of her lover. Her eyes were constantly bathed in tears; she + anxiously awaited the happy moment when those of Zadig should be able to + meet hers; but an abscess growing on the wounded eye gave everything to + fear. A messenger was immediately dispatched to Memphis for the great + physician Hermes, who came with a numerous retinue. He visited the patient + and declared that he would lose his eye. He even foretold the day and hour + when this fatal event would happen. “Had it been the right eye,” + said he, “I could easily have cured it; but the wounds of the left + eye are incurable.” All Babylon lamented the fate of Zadig, and + admired the profound knowledge of Hermes. + </p> + <p> + In two days the abscess broke of its own accord and Zadig was perfectly + cured. Hermes wrote a book to prove that it ought not to have been cured. + Zadig did not read it; but, as soon as he was able to go abroad, he went + to pay a visit to her in whom all his hopes of happiness were centered, + and for whose sake alone he wished to have eyes. Semira had been in the + country for three days past. He learned on the road that that fine lady, + having openly declared that she had an unconquerable aversion to one-eyed + men, had the night before given her hand to Orcan. At this news he fell + speechless to the ground. His sorrow brought him almost to the brink of + the grave. He was long indisposed; but reason at last got the better of + his affliction, and the severity of his fate served to console him. + </p> + <p> + “Since,” said he, “I have suffered so much from the + cruel caprice of a woman educated at court, I must now think of marrying + the daughter of a citizen.” He pitched upon Azora, a lady of the + greatest prudence, and of the best family in town. He married her and + lived with her for three months in all the delights of the most tender + union. He only observed that she had a little levity; and was too apt to + find that those young men who had the most handsome persons were likewise + possessed of most wit and virtue. + </p> + <h3> + THE NOSE + </h3> + <p> + One morning Azora returned from a walk in a terrible passion, and uttering + the most violent exclamations. “What aileth thee,” said he, + “my dear spouse? What is it that can thus have discomposed thee?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas,” said she, “thou wouldst be as much enraged as I + am hadst thou seen what I have just beheld. I have been to comfort the + young widow Cosrou, who, within these two days, hath raised a tomb to her + young husband, near the rivulet that washes the skirts of this meadow. She + vowed to heaven, in the bitterness of her grief, to remain at this tomb + while the water of the rivulet should continue to run near it.”—“Well,” + said Zadig, “she is an excellent woman, and loved her husband with + the most sincere affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied Azora, “didst thou but know in what she + was employed when I went to wait upon her!” + </p> + <p> + “In what, pray, beautiful Azora? Was she turning the course of the + rivulet?” + </p> + <p> + Azora broke out into such long invectives and loaded the young widow with + such bitter reproaches, that Zadig was far from being pleased with this + ostentation of virtue. + </p> + <p> + Zadig had a friend named Cador, one of those young men in whom his wife + discovered more probity and merit than in others. He made him his + confidant, and secured his fidelity as much as possible by a considerable + present. Azora, having passed two days with a friend in the country, + returned home on the third. The servants told her, with tears in their + eyes, that her husband died suddenly the night before; that they were + afraid to send her an account of this mournful event; and that they had + just been depositing his corpse in the tomb of his ancestors, at the end + of the garden. + </p> + <p> + She wept, she tore her hair, and swore she would follow him to the grave. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Cador begged leave to wait upon her, and joined his tears + with hers. Next day they wept less, and dined together. Cador told her + that his friend had left him the greatest part of his estate; and that he + should think himself extremely happy in sharing his fortune with her. The + lady wept, fell into a passion, and at last became more mild and gentle. + They sat longer at supper than at dinner. They now talked with greater + confidence. Azora praised the deceased; but owned that he had many + failings from which Cador was free. + </p> + <p> + During supper Cador complained of a violent pain in his side. The lady, + greatly concerned, and eager to serve him, caused all kinds of essences to + be brought, with which she anointed him, to try if some of them might not + possibly ease him of his pain. She lamented that the great Hermes was not + still in Babylon. She even condescended to touch the side in which Cador + felt such exquisite pain. + </p> + <p> + “Art thou subject to this cruel disorder?” said she to him + with a compassionate air. + </p> + <p> + “It sometimes brings me,” replied Cador, “to the brink + of the grave; and there is but one remedy that can give me relief, and + that is to apply to my side the nose of a man who is lately dead.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange remedy, indeed!” said Azora. + </p> + <p> + “Not more strange,” replied he, “than the sachels of + Arnon against the apoplexy.” This reason, added to the great merit + of the young man, at last determined the lady. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” says she, “when my husband shall cross the + bridge Tchinavar, in his journey to the other world, the angel Asrael will + not refuse him a passage because his nose is a little shorter in the + second life than it was in the first.” She then took a razor, went + to her husband’s tomb, bedewed it with her tears, and drew near to + cut off the nose of Zadig, whom she found extended at full length in the + tomb. Zadig arose, holding his nose with one hand, and, putting back the + razor with the other, “Madam,” said he, “don’t + exclaim so violently against young Cosrou; the project of cutting off my + nose is equal to that of turning the course of a rivulet.” Zadig + found by experience that the first month of marriage, as it is written in + the book of Zend, is the moon of honey, and that the second is the moon of + wormwood. He was some time after obliged to repudiate Azora, who became + too difficult to be pleased; and he then sought for happiness in the study + of nature. “No man,” said he, “can be happier than a + philosopher who reads in this great book which God hath placed before our + eyes. The truths he discovers are his own; he nourishes and exalts his + soul; he lives in peace; he fears nothing from men; and his tender spouse + will not come to cut off his nose.” + </p> + <p> + Possessed of these ideas he retired to a country house on the banks of the + Euphrates. There he did not employ himself in calculating how many inches + of water flow in a second of time under the arches of a bridge, or whether + there fell a cube line of rain in the month of the Mouse more than in the + month of the Sheep. He never dreamed of making silk of cobwebs, or + porcelain of broken bottles; but he chiefly studied the properties of + plants and animals; and soon acquired a sagacity that made him discover a + thousand differences where other men see nothing but uniformity. + </p> + <p> + One day, as he was walking near a little wood, he saw one of the queen’s + eunuchs running toward him, followed by several officers, who appeared to + be in great perplexity, and who ran to and fro like men distracted, + eagerly searching for something they had lost of great value. “Young + man,” said the first eunuch, “hast thou seen the queen’s + dog?” “It is a female,” replied Zadig. “Thou art + in the right,” returned the first eunuch. “It is a very small + she spaniel,” added Zadig; “she has lately whelped; she limps + on the left forefoot, and has very long ears.” “Thou hast seen + her,” said the first eunuch, quite out of breath. “No,” + replied Zadig, “I have not seen her, nor did I so much as know that + the queen had a dog.” + </p> + <p> + Exactly at the same time, by one of the common freaks of fortune, the + finest horse in the king’s stable had escaped from the jockey in the + plains of Babylon. The principal huntsman and all the other officers ran + after him with as much eagerness and anxiety as the first eunuch had done + after the spaniel. The principal huntsman addressed himself to Zadig, and + asked him if he had not seen the king’s horse passing by. “He + is the fleetest horse in the king’s stable,” replied Zadig; + “he is five feet high, with very small hoofs, and a tail three feet + and a half in length; the studs on his bit are gold of twenty-three + carats, and his shoes are silver of eleven pennyweights.” “What + way did he take? where is he?” demanded the chief huntsman. “I + have not seen him,” replied Zadig, “and never heard talk of + him before.” + </p> + <p> + The principal huntsman and the first eunuch never doubted but that Zadig + had stolen the king’s horse and the queen’s spaniel. They + therefore had him conducted before the assembly of the grand desterham, + who condemned him to the knout, and to spend the rest of his days in + Siberia. Hardly was the sentence passed when the horse and the spaniel + were both found. The judges were reduced to the disagreeable necessity of + reversing their sentence; but they condemned Zadig to pay four hundred + ounces of gold for having said that he had not seen what he had seen. This + fine he was obliged to pay; after which he was permitted to plead his + cause before the counsel of the grand desterham, when he spoke to the + following effect: + </p> + <p> + “Ye stars of justice, abyss of sciences, mirrors of truth, who have + the weight of lead, the hardness of iron, the splendor of the diamond, and + many properties of gold: Since I am permitted to speak before this august + assembly, I swear to you by Oramades that I have never seen the queen’s + respectable spaniel, nor the sacred horse of the king of kings. The truth + of the matter was as follows: I was walking toward the little wood, where + I afterwards met the venerable eunuch, and the most illustrious chief + huntsman. I observed on the sand the traces of an animal, and could easily + perceive them to be those of a little dog. The light and long furrows + impressed on little eminences of sand between the marks of the paws + plainly discovered that it was a female, whose dugs were hanging down, and + that therefore she must have whelped a few days before. Other traces of a + different kind, that always appeared to have gently brushed the surface of + the sand near the marks of the forefeet, showed me that she had very long + ears; and as I remarked that there was always a slighter impression made + on the sand by one foot than the other three, I found that the spaniel of + our august queen was a little lame, if I may be allowed the expression. + </p> + <p> + “With regard to the horse of the king of kings, you will be pleased + to know that, walking in the lanes of this wood, I observed the marks of a + horse’s shoes, all at equal distances. This must be a horse, said I + to myself, that gallops excellently. The dust on the trees in the road + that was but seven feet wide was a little brushed off, at the distance of + three feet and a half from the middle of the road. This horse, said I, has + a tail three feet and a half long, which being whisked to the right and + left, has swept away the dust. I observed under the trees that formed an + arbor five feet in height, that the leaves of the branches were newly + fallen; from whence I inferred that the horse had touched them, and that + he must therefore be five feet high. As to his bit, it must be gold of + twenty-three carats, for he had rubbed its bosses against a stone which I + knew to be a touchstone, and which I have tried. In a word, from the marks + made by his shoes on flints of another kind, I concluded that he was shod + with silver eleven deniers fine.” + </p> + <p> + All the judges admired Zadig for his acute and profound discernment. The + news of this speech was carried even to the king and queen. Nothing was + talked of but Zadig in the antechambers, the chambers, and the cabinet; + and though many of the magi were of opinion that he ought to be burned as + a sorcerer, the king ordered his officers to restore him the four hundred + ounces of gold which he had been obliged to pay. The register, the + attorneys, and bailiffs went to his house with great formality, to carry + him back his four hundred ounces. They only retained three hundred and + ninety-eight of them to defray the expenses of justice; and their servants + demanded their fees. + </p> + <p> + Zadig saw how extremely dangerous it sometimes is to appear too knowing, + and therefore resolved that on the next occasion of the like nature he + would not tell what he had seen. + </p> + <p> + Such an opportunity soon offered. A prisoner of state made his escape, and + passed under the window of Zadig’s house. Zadig was examined and + made no answer. But it was proved that he had looked at the prisoner from + this window. For this crime he was condemned to pay five hundred ounces of + gold; and, according to the polite custom of Babylon, he thanked his + judges for their indulgence. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” said he to himself, “what a misfortune it + is to walk in a wood through which the queen’s spaniel or the king’s + horse has passed! how dangerous to look out at a window! and how difficult + to be happy in this life!” + </p> + <h3> + THE ENVIOUS MAN + </h3> + <p> + Zadig resolved to comfort himself by philosophy and friendship for the + evils he had suffered from fortune. He had in the suburbs of Babylon a + house elegantly furnished, in which he assembled all the arts and all the + pleasures worthy the pursuit of a gentleman. In the morning his library + was open to the learned. In the evening his table was surrounded by good + company. But he soon found what very dangerous guests these men of letters + are. A warm dispute arose on one of Zoroaster’s laws, which forbids + the eating of a griffin. “Why,” said some of them, “prohibit + the eating of a griffin, if there is no such an animal in nature?” + “There must necessarily be such an animal,” said the others, + “since Zoroaster forbids us to eat it.” Zadig would fain have + reconciled them by saying, “If there are no griffins, we cannot + possibly eat them; and thus either way we shall obey Zoroaster.” + </p> + <p> + A learned man who had composed thirteen volumes on the properties of the + griffin, and was besides the chief theurgite, hastened away to accuse + Zadig before one of the principal magi, named Yebor, the greatest + blockhead and therefore the greatest fanatic among the Chaldeans. This man + would have impaled Zadig to do honors to the sun, and would then have + recited the breviary of Zoroaster with greater satisfaction. The friend + Cador (a friend is better than a hundred priests) went to Yebor, and said + to him, “Long live the sun and the griffins; beware of punishing + Zadig; he is a saint; he has griffins in his inner court and does not eat + them; and his accuser is an heretic, who dares to maintain that rabbits + have cloven feet and are not unclean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Yebor, shaking his bald pate, “we must + impale Zadig for having thought contemptuously of griffins, and the other + for having spoken disrespectfully of rabbits.” Cador hushed up the + affair by means of a maid of honor with whom he had a love affair, and who + had great interest in the College of the Magi. Nobody was impaled. + </p> + <p> + This levity occasioned a great murmuring among some of the doctors, who + from thence predicted the fall of Babylon. “Upon what does happiness + depend?” said Zadig. “I am persecuted by everything in the + world, even on account of beings that have no existence.” He cursed + those men of learning, and resolved for the future to live with none but + good company. + </p> + <p> + He assembled at his house the most worthy men and the most beautiful + ladies of Babylon. He gave them delicious suppers, often preceded by + concerts of music, and always animated by polite conversation, from which + he knew how to banish that affectation of wit which is the surest method + of preventing it entirely, and of spoiling the pleasure of the most + agreeable society. Neither the choice of his friends nor that of the + dishes was made by vanity; for in everything he preferred the substance to + the shadow; and by these means he procured that real respect to which he + did not aspire. + </p> + <p> + Opposite to his house lived one Arimazes, a man whose deformed countenance + was but a faint picture of his still more deformed mind. His heart was a + mixture of malice, pride, and envy. Having never been able to succeed in + any of his undertakings, he revenged himself on all around him by loading + them with the blackest calumnies. Rich as he was, he found it difficult to + procure a set of flatterers. The rattling of the chariots that entered + Zadig’s court in the evening filled him with uneasiness; the sound + of his praises enraged him still more. He sometimes went to Zadig’s + house, and sat down at table without being desired; where he spoiled all + the pleasure of the company, as the harpies are said to infect the viands + they touch. It happened that one day he took it in his head to give an + entertainment to a lady, who, instead of accepting it, went to sup with + Zadig. At another time, as he was talking with Zadig at court, a minister + of state came up to them, and invited Zadig to supper without inviting + Arimazes. The most implacable hatred has seldom a more solid foundation. + This man, who in Babylon was called the Envious, resolved to ruin Zadig + because he was called the Happy. “The opportunity of doing mischief + occurs a hundred times in a day, and that of doing good but once a year,” + as sayeth the wise Zoroaster. + </p> + <p> + The envious man went to see Zadig, who was walking in his garden with two + friends and a lady, to whom he said many gallant things, without any other + intention than that of saying them. The conversation turned upon a war + which the king had just brought to a happy conclusion against the prince + of Hircania, his vassal. Zadig, who had signalized his courage in this + short war, bestowed great praises on the king, but greater still on the + lady. He took out his pocket-book, and wrote four lines extempore, which + he gave to this amiable person to read. His friends begged they might see + them; but modesty, or rather a well-regulated self love, would not allow + him to grant their request. He knew that extemporary verses are never + approved of by any but by the person in whose honor they are written. He + therefore tore in two the leaf on which he had wrote them, and threw both + the pieces into a thicket of rose-bushes, where the rest of the company + sought for them in vain. A slight shower falling soon after obliged them + to return to the house. The envious man, who stayed in the garden, + continued the search till at last he found a piece of the leaf. It had + been torn in such a manner that each half of a line formed a complete + sense, and even a verse of a shorter measure; but what was still more + surprising, these short verses were found to contain the most injurious + reflections on the king. They ran thus: + </p> + <p> + To flagrant crimes His crown he owes, To peaceful times The worst of foes. + </p> + <p> + The envious man was now happy for the first time of his life. He had it in + his power to ruin a person of virtue and merit. Filled with this fiendlike + joy, he found means to convey to the king the satire written by the hand + of Zadig, who, together with the lady and his two friends, was thrown into + prison. + </p> + <p> + His trial was soon finished, without his being permitted to speak for + himself. As he was going to receive his sentence, the envious man threw + himself in his way and told him with a loud voice that his verses were + good for nothing. Zadig did not value himself on being a good poet; but it + filled him with inexpressible concern to find that he was condemned for + high treason; and that the fair lady and his two friends were confined in + prison for a crime of which they were not guilty. He was not allowed to + speak because his writing spoke for him. Such was the law of Babylon. + Accordingly he was conducted to the place of execution, through an immense + crowd of spectators, who durst not venture to express their pity for him, + but who carefully examined his countenance to see if he died with a good + grace. His relations alone were inconsolable, for they could not succeed + to his estate. Three-fourths of his wealth were confiscated into the king’s + treasury, and the other fourth was given to the envious man. + </p> + <p> + Just as he was preparing for death the king’s parrot flew from its + cage and alighted on a rosebush in Zadig’s garden. A peach had been + driven thither by the wind from a neighboring tree, and had fallen on a + piece of the written leaf of the pocketbook to which it stuck. The bird + carried off the peach and the paper and laid them on the king’s + knee. The king took up the paper with great eagerness and read the words, + which formed no sense, and seemed to be the endings of verses. He loved + poetry; and there is always some mercy to be expected from a prince of + that disposition. The adventure of the parrot set him a-thinking. + </p> + <p> + The queen, who remembered what had been written on the piece of Zadig’s + pocketbook, caused it to be brought. They compared the two pieces together + and found them to tally exactly; they then read the verses as Zadig had + wrote them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +TYRANTS ARE PRONE TO FLAGRANT CRIMES. + TO CLEMENCY HIS CROWN HE OWES. +TO CONCORD AND TO PEACEFUL TIMES. + LOVE ONLY IS THE WORST OF FOES. +</pre> + <p> + The king gave immediate orders that Zadig should be brought before him, + and that his two friends and the lady should be set at liberty. Zadig fell + prostrate on the ground before the king and queen; humbly begged their + pardon for having made such bad verses and spoke with so much propriety, + wit, and good sense, that their majesties desired they might see him + again. He did himself that honor, and insinuated himself still farther + into their good graces. They gave him all the wealth of the envious man; + but Zadig restored him back the whole of it. And this instance of + generosity gave no other pleasure to the envious man than that of having + preserved his estate. + </p> + <p> + The king’s esteem for Zadig increased every day. He admitted him + into all his parties of pleasure, and consulted him in all affairs of + state. From that time the queen began to regard him with an eye of + tenderness that might one day prove dangerous to herself, to the king, her + august comfort, to Zadig, and to the kingdom in general. Zadig now began + to think that happiness was not so unattainable as he had formerly + imagined. + </p> + <h3> + THE GENEROUS + </h3> + <p> + The time now arrived for celebrating a grand festival, which returned + every five years. It was a custom in Babylon solemnly to declare at the + end of every five years which of the citizens had performed the most + generous action. The grandees and the magi were the judges. The first + satrap, who was charged with the government of the city, published the + most noble actions that had passed under his administration. The + competition was decided by votes; and the king pronounced the sentence. + People came to this solemnity from the extremities of the earth. The + conqueror received from the monarch’s hand a golden cup adorned with + precious stones, his majesty at the same time making him this compliment: + </p> + <p> + “Receive this reward of thy generosity, and may the gods grant me + many subjects like to thee.” + </p> + <p> + This memorable day being come, the king appeared on his throne, surrounded + by the grandees, the magi, and the deputies of all nations that came to + these games, where glory was acquired not by the swiftness of horses, nor + by strength of body, but by virtue. The first satrap recited, with an + audible voice, such actions as might entitle the authors of them to this + invaluable prize. He did not mention the greatness of soul with which + Zadig had restored the envious man his fortune, because it was not judged + to be an action worthy of disputing the prize. + </p> + <p> + He first presented a judge who, having made a citizen lose a considerable + cause by a mistake, for which, after all, he was not accountable, had + given him the whole of his own estate, which was just equal to what the + other had lost. + </p> + <p> + He next produced a young man who, being desperately in love with a lady + whom he was going to marry, had yielded her up to his friend, whose + passion for her had almost brought him to the brink of the grave, and at + the same time had given him the lady’s fortune. + </p> + <p> + He afterwards produced a soldier who, in the wars of Hircania, had given a + still more noble instance of generosity. A party of the enemy having + seized his mistress, he fought in her defense with great intrepidity. At + that very instant he was informed that another party, at the distance of a + few paces, were carrying off his mother; he therefore left his mistress + with tears in his eyes and flew to the assistance of his mother. At last + he returned to the dear object of his love and found her expiring. He was + just going to plunge his sword in his own bosom; but his mother + remonstrating against such a desperate deed, and telling him that he was + the only support of her life, he had the courage to endure to live. + </p> + <p> + The judges were inclined to give the prize to the soldier. But the king + took up the discourse and said: “The action of the soldier, and + those of the other two, are doubtless very great, but they have nothing in + them surprising. Yesterday Zadig performed an action that filled me with + wonder. I had a few days before disgraced Coreb, my minister and favorite. + I complained of him in the most violent and bitter terms; all my courtiers + assured me that I was too gentle and seemed to vie with each other in + speaking ill of Coreb. I asked Zadig what he thought of him, and he had + the courage to commend him. I have read in our histories of many people + who have atoned for an error by the surrender of their fortune; who have + resigned a mistress; or preferred a mother to the object of their + affection; but never before did I hear of a courtier who spoke favorably + of a disgraced minister that labored under the displeasure of his + sovereign. I give to each of those whose generous actions have been now + recited twenty thousand pieces of gold; but the cup I give to Zadig.” + </p> + <p> + “May it please your majesty,” said Zadig, “thyself alone + deservest the cup; thou hast performed an action of all others the most + uncommon and meritorious, since, notwithstanding thy being a powerful + king, thou wast not offended at thy slave when he presumed to oppose thy + passion.” The king and Zadig were equally the object of admiration. + The judge, who had given his estate to his client; the lover, who had + resigned his mistress to a friend; and the soldier, who had preferred the + safety of his mother to that of his mistress, received the king’s + presents and saw their names enrolled in the catalogue of generous men. + Zadig had the cup, and the king acquired the reputation of a good prince, + which he did not long enjoy. The day was celebrated by feasts that lasted + longer than the law enjoined; and the memory of it is still preserved in + Asia. Zadig said, “Now I am happy at last;” but he found + himself fatally deceived. + </p> + <h3> + THE MINISTER + </h3> + <p> + The king had lost his first minister and chose Zadig to supply his place. + All the ladies in Babylon applauded the choice; for since the foundation + of the empire there had never been such a young minister. But all the + courtiers were filled with jealousy and vexation. The envious man in + particular was troubled with a spitting of blood and a prodigious + inflammation in his nose. Zadig, having thanked the king and queen for + their goodness, went likewise to thank the parrot. “Beautiful bird,” + said he, “‘tis thou that hast saved my life and made me first + minister. The queen’s spaniel and the king’s horse did me a + great deal of mischief; but thou hast done me much good. Upon such slender + threads as these do the fates of mortals hang! But,” added he, + “this happiness perhaps will vanish very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Soon,” replied the parrot. + </p> + <p> + Zadig was somewhat startled at this word. But as he was a good natural + philosopher and did not believe parrots to be prophets, he quickly + recovered his spirits and resolved to execute his duty to the best of his + power. + </p> + <p> + He made everyone feel the sacred authority of the laws, but no one felt + the weight of his dignity. He never checked the deliberation of the diran; + and every vizier might give his opinion without the fear of incurring the + minister’s displeasure. When he gave judgment, it was not he that + gave it, it was the law; the rigor of which, however, whenever it was too + severe, he always took care to soften; and when laws were wanting, the + equity of his decisions was such as might easily have made them pass for + those of Zoroaster. It is to him that the nations are indebted for this + grand principle, to wit, that it is better to run the risk of sparing the + guilty than to condemn the innocent. He imagined that laws were made as + well to secure the people from the suffering of injuries as to restrain + them from the commission of crimes. His chief talent consisted in + discovering the truth, which all men seek to obscure. + </p> + <p> + This great talent he put in practice from the very beginning of his + administration. A famous merchant of Babylon, who died in the Indies, + divided his estate equally between his two sons, after having disposed of + their sister in marriage, and left a present of thirty thousand pieces of + gold to that son who should be found to have loved him best. The eldest + raised a tomb to his memory; the youngest increased his sister’s + portion, by giving her part of his inheritance. Everyone said that the + eldest son loved his father best, and the youngest his sister; and that + the thirty thousand pieces belonged to the eldest. + </p> + <p> + Zadig sent for both of them, the one after the other. To the eldest he + said: “Thy father is not dead; he is recovered of his last illness, + and is returning to Babylon,” “God be praised,” replied + the young man; “but his tomb cost me a considerable sum.” + Zadig afterwards said the same to the youngest. “God be praised,” + said he, “I will go and restore to my father all that I have; but I + could wish that he would leave my sister what I have given her.” + “Thou shalt restore nothing,” replied Zadig, “and thou + shalt have the thirty thousand pieces, for thou art the son who loves his + father best.” + </p> + <h3> + THE DISPUTES AND THE AUDIENCES + </h3> + <p> + In this manner he daily discovered the subtilty of his genius and the + goodness of his heart. The people at once admired and loved him. He passed + for the happiest man in the world. The whole empire resounded with his + name. All the ladies ogled him. All the men praised him for his justice. + The learned regarded him as an oracle; and even the priests confessed that + he knew more than the old archmage Yebor. They were now so far from + prosecuting him on account of the griffin, that they believed nothing but + what he thought credible. + </p> + <p> + There had reigned in Babylon, for the space of fifteen hundred years, a + violent contest that had divided the empire into two sects. The one + pretended that they ought to enter the temple of Mitra with the left foot + foremost; the other held this custom in detestation and always entered + with the right foot first. The people waited with great impatience for the + day on which the solemn feast of the sacred fire was to be celebrated, to + see which sect Zadig would favor. All the world had their eyes fixed on + his two feet, and the whole city was in the utmost suspense and + perturbation. Zadig jumped into the temple with his feet joined together, + and afterwards proved, in an eloquent discourse, that the Sovereign of + heaven and earth, who accepted not the persons of men, makes no + distinction between the right and left foot. The envious man and his wife + alleged that his discourse was not figurative enough, and that he did not + make the rocks and mountains to dance with sufficient agility. + </p> + <p> + “He is dry.” said they, “and void of genius: he does not + make the flea to fly, and stars to fall, nor the sun to melt wax; he has + not the true Oriental style.” Zadig contented himself with having + the style of reason. All the world favored him, not because he was in the + right road or followed the dictates of reason, or was a man of real merit, + but because he was prime vizier. + </p> + <p> + He terminated with the same happy address the grand difference between the + white and the black magi. The former maintained that it was the height of + impiety to pray to God with the face turned toward the east in winter; the + latter asserted that God abhorred the prayers of those who turned toward + the west in summer. Zadig decreed that every man should be allowed to turn + as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + Thus he found out the happy secret of finishing all affairs, whether of a + private or a public nature, in the morning. The rest of the day he + employed in superintending and promoting the embellishments of Babylon. He + exhibited tragedies that drew tears from the eyes of the spectators, and + comedies that shook their sides with laughter; a custom which had long + been disused, and which his good taste now induced him to revive. He never + affected to be more knowing in the polite arts than the artists + themselves; he encouraged them by rewards and honors, and was never + jealous of their talents. In the evening the king was highly entertained + with his conversation, and the queen still more. “Great minister!” + said the king. “Amiable minister!” said the queen; and both of + them added, “It would have been a great loss to the state had such a + man been hanged.” + </p> + <p> + Never was a man in power obliged to give so many audiences to the ladies. + Most of them came to consult him about no business at all, that so they + might have some business with him. But none of them won his attention. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Zadig perceived that his thoughts were always distracted, as + well when he gave audience as when he sat in judgment. He did not know to + what to attribute this absence of mind; and that was his only sorrow. + </p> + <p> + He had a dream in which he imagined that he laid himself down upon a heap + of dry herbs, among which there were many prickly ones that gave him great + uneasiness, and that he afterwards reposed himself on a soft bed of roses + from which there sprung a serpent that wounded him to the heart with its + sharp and venomed tongue. “Alas,” said he, “I have long + lain on these dry and prickly herbs, I am now on the bed of roses; but + what shall be the serpent?” + </p> + <h3> + JEALOUSY + </h3> + <p> + Zadig’s calamities sprung even from his happiness and especially + from his merit. He every day conversed with the king and Astarte, his + august comfort. The charms of his conversation were greatly heightened by + that desire of pleasing, which is to the mind what dress is to beauty. His + youth and graceful appearance insensibly made an impression on Astarte, + which she did not at first perceive. Her passion grew and flourished in + the bosom of innocence. Without fear or scruple, she indulged the pleasing + satisfaction of seeing and hearing a man who was so dear to her husband + and to the empire in general. She was continually praising him to the + king. She talked of him to her women, who were always sure to improve on + her praises. And thus everything contributed to pierce her heart with a + dart, of which she did not seem to be sensible. She made several presents + to Zadig, which discovered a greater spirit of gallantry than she + imagined. She intended to speak to him only as a queen satisfied with his + services and her expressions were sometimes those of a woman in love. + </p> + <p> + Astarte was much more beautiful than that Semira who had such a strong + aversion to one-eyed men, or that other woman who had resolved to cut off + her husband’s nose. Her unreserved familiarity, her tender + expressions, at which she began to blush; and her eyes, which, though she + endeavored to divert them to other objects, were always fixed upon his, + inspired Zadig with a passion that filled him with astonishment. He + struggled hard to get the better of it. He called to his aid the precepts + of philosophy, which had always stood him in stead; but from thence, + though he could derive the light of knowledge, he could procure no remedy + to cure the disorders of his lovesick heart. Duty, gratitude, and violated + majesty presented themselves to his mind as so many avenging gods. He + struggled; he conquered; but this victory, which he was obliged to + purchase afresh every moment, cost him many sighs and tears. He no longer + dared to speak to the queen with that sweet and charming familiarity which + had been so agreeable to them both. His countenance was covered with a + cloud. His conversation was constrained and incoherent. His eyes were + fixed on the ground; and when, in spite of all his endeavors to the + contrary, they encountered those of the queen, they found them bathed in + tears and darting arrows of flame. They seemed to say, We adore each other + and yet are afraid to love; we both burn with a fire which we both + condemn. + </p> + <p> + Zadig left the royal presence full of perplexity and despair, and having + his heart oppressed with a burden which he was no longer able to bear. In + the violence of his perturbation he involuntarily betrayed the secret to + his friend Cador, in the same manner as a man who, having long supported + the fits of a cruel disease, discovers his pain by a cry extorted from him + by a more severe fit and by the cold sweat that covers his brow. + </p> + <p> + “I have already discovered,” said Cador, “the sentiments + which thou wouldst fain conceal from thyself. The symptoms by which the + passions show themselves are certain and infallible. Judge, my dear Zadig, + since I have read thy heart, whether the king will not discover something + in it that may give him offense. He has no other fault but that of being + the most jealous man in the world. Thou canst resist the violence of thy + passion with greater fortitude than the queen because thou art a + philosopher, and because thou art Zadig. Astarte is a woman: she suffers + her eyes to speak with so much the more imprudence, as she does not as yet + think herself guilty. Conscious of her innocence, she unhappily neglects + those external appearances which are so necessary. I shall tremble for her + so long as she has nothing wherewithal to reproach herself. Were ye both + of one mind, ye might easily deceive the whole world. A growing passion, + which we endeavor to suppress, discovers itself in spite of all our + efforts to the contrary; but love, when gratified, is easily concealed.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig trembled at the proposal of betraying the king, his benefactor; and + never was he more faithful to his prince than when guilty of an + involuntary crime against him. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the queen mentioned the name of Zadig so frequently and with + such a blushing and downcast look; she was sometimes so lively and + sometimes so perplexed when she spoke to him in the king’s presence, + and was seized with such deep thoughtfulness at his going away, that the + king began to be troubled. He believed all that he saw and imagined all + that he did not see. He particularly remarked that his wife’s shoes + were blue and that Zadig’s shoes were blue; that his wife’s + ribbons were yellow and that Zadig’s bonnet was yellow; and these + were terrible symptoms to a prince of so much delicacy. In his jealous + mind suspicions were turned into certainty. + </p> + <p> + All the slaves of kings and queens are so many spies over their hearts. + They soon observed that Astarte was tender and that Moabdar was jealous. + The envious man brought false reports to the king. The monarch now thought + of nothing but in what manner he might best execute his vengeance. He one + night resolved to poison the queen and in the morning to put Zadig to + death by the bowstring. The orders were given to a merciless eunuch, who + commonly executed his acts of vengeance. There happened at that time to be + in the king’s chamber a little dwarf, who, though dumb, was not + deaf. He was allowed, on account of his insignificance, to go wherever he + pleased, and, as a domestic animal, was a witness of what passed in the + most profound secrecy. This little mute was strongly attached to the queen + and Zadig. With equal horror and surprise he heard the cruel orders given. + But how to prevent the fatal sentence that in a few hours was to be + carried into execution! He could not write, but he could paint; and + excelled particularly in drawing a striking resemblance. He employed a + part of the night in sketching out with his pencil what he meant to impart + to the queen. The piece represented the king in one corner, boiling with + rage, and giving orders to the eunuch; a bowstring, and a bowl on a table; + the queen in the middle of the picture, expiring in the arms of her woman, + and Zadig strangled at her feet The horizon, represented a rising sun, to + express that this shocking execution was to be performed in the morning. + As soon as he had finished the picture he ran to one of Astarte’s + women, awakened her, and made her understand that she must immediately + carry it to the queen. + </p> + <p> + At midnight a messenger knocks at Zadig’s door, awakes him, and + gives him a note from the queen. He doubts whether it is a dream; and + opens the letter with a trembling hand. But how great was his surprise! + and who can express the consternation and despair into which he was thrown + upon reading these words: “Fly this instant, or thou art a dead man. + Fly, Zadig, I conjure thee by our mutual love and my yellow ribbons. I + have not been guilty, but I find I must die like a criminal.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig was hardly able to speak. He sent for Cador, and, without uttering a + word, gave him the note. Cador forced him to obey, and forthwith to take + the road to Memphis. “Shouldst thou dare,” said he, “to + go in search of the queen, thou wilt hasten her death. Shouldst thou speak + to the king, thou wilt infallibly ruin her. I will take upon me the charge + of her destiny; follow thy own. I will spread a report that thou hast + taken the road to India. I will soon follow thee, and inform thee of all + that shall have passed in Babylon.” At that instant, Cador caused + two of the swiftest dromedaries to be brought to a private gate of the + palace. Upon one of these he mounted Zadig, whom he was obliged to carry + to the door, and who was ready to expire with grief. He was accompanied by + a single domestic; and Cador, plunged in sorrow and astonishment, soon + lost sight of his friend. + </p> + <p> + This illustrious fugitive arriving on the side of a hill, from whence he + could take a view of Babylon, turned his eyes toward the queen’s + palace, and fainted away at the sight; nor did he recover his senses but + to shed a torrent of tears and to wish for death. At length, after his + thoughts had been long engrossed in lamenting the unhappy fate of the + loveliest woman and the greatest queen in the world, he for a moment + turned his views on himself and cried: “What then is human life? O + virtue, how hast thou served me! Two women have basely deceived me, and + now a third, who is innocent, and more beautiful than both the others, is + going to be put to death! Whatever good I have done hath been to me a + continual source of calamity and affliction; and I have only been raised + to the height of grandeur, to be tumbled down the most horrid precipice of + misfortune.” Filled with these gloomy reflections, his eyes + overspread with the veil of grief, his countenance covered with the + paleness of death, and his soul plunged in an abyss of the blackest + despair, he continued his journey toward Egypt. + </p> + <h3> + THE WOMAN BEATEN + </h3> + <p> + Zadig directed his course by the stars. The constellation of Orion and the + splendid Dog Star guided his steps toward the pole of Cassiopeia. He + admired those vast globes of light, which appear to our eyes but as so + many little sparks, while the earth, which in reality is only an + imperceptible point in nature, appears to our fond imaginations as + something so grand and noble. + </p> + <p> + He then represented to himself the human species as it really is, as a + parcel of insects devouring one another on a little atom of clay. This + true image seemed to annihilate his misfortunes, by making him sensible of + the nothingness of his own being, and of that of Babylon. His soul + launched out into infinity, and, detached from the senses, contemplated + the immutable order of the universe. But when afterwards, returning to + himself, and entering into his own heart, he considered that Astarte had + perhaps died for him, the universe vanished from his sight, and he beheld + nothing in the whole compass of nature but Astarte; expiring and Zadig + unhappy. While he thus alternately gave up his mind to this flux and + reflux of sublime philosophy and intolerable grief, he advanced toward the + frontiers of Egypt; and his faithful domestic was already in the first + village, in search of a lodging. + </p> + <p> + Upon reaching the village Zadig generously took the part of a woman + attacked by her jealous lover. The combat grew so fierce that Zadig slew + the lover. The Egyptians were then just and humane. The people conducted + Zadig to the town house. They first of all ordered his wounds to be + dressed and then examined him and his servant apart, in order to discover + the truth. They found that Zadig was not an assassin; but as he was guilty + of having killed a man, the law condemned him to be a slave. His two + camels were sold for the benefit of the town; all the gold he had brought + with him was distributed among the inhabitants; and his person, as well as + that of the companion of his journey, was exposed to sale in the + marketplace. + </p> + <p> + An Arabian merchant, named Setoc, made the purchase; but as the servant + was fitter for labor than the master, he was sold at a higher price. There + was no comparison between the two men. Thus Zadig became a slave + subordinate to his own servant. They were linked together by a chain + fastened to their feet, and in this condition they followed the Arabian + merchant to his house. BY the way Zadig comforted his servant, and + exhorted him to patience; but he could not help making, according to his + usual custom, some reflections on human life. “I see,” said + he, “that the unhappiness of my fate hath an influence on thine. + Hitherto everything has turned out to me in a most unaccountable manner. I + have been condemned to pay a fine for having seen the marks of a spaniel’s + feet. I thought that I should once have been impaled on account of a + griffin. I have been sent to execution for having made some verses in + praise of the king. I have been upon the point of being strangled because + the queen had yellow ribbons; and now I am a slave with thee, because a + brutal wretch beat his mistress. Come, let us keep a good heart; all this + perhaps will have an end. The Arabian merchants must necessarily have + slaves; and why not me as well as another, since, as well as another, I am + a man? This merchant will not be cruel; he must treat his slaves well, if + he expects any advantage from them.” But while he spoke thus, his + heart was entirely engrossed by the fate of the Queen of Babylon. + </p> + <p> + Two days after, the merchant Setoc set out for Arabia Deserta, with his + slaves and his camels. His tribe dwelt near the Desert of Oreb. The + journey was long and painful. Setoc set a much greater value on the + servant than the master, because the former was more expert in loading the + camels; and all the little marks of distinction were shown to him. A camel + having died within two days’ journey of Oreb, his burden was divided + and laid on the backs of the servants; and Zadig had his share among the + rest. + </p> + <p> + Setoc laughed to see all his slaves walking with their bodies inclined. + Zadig took the liberty to explain to him the cause, and inform him of the + laws of the balance. The merchant was astonished, and began to regard him + with other eyes. Zadig, finding he had raised his curiosity, increased it + still further by acquainting him with many things that related to + commerce, the specific gravity of metals, and commodities under an equal + bulk; the properties of several useful animals; and the means of rendering + those useful that are not naturally so. At last Setoc began to consider + Zadig as a sage, and preferred him to his companion, whom he had formerly + so much esteemed. He treated him well and had no cause to repent of his + kindness. + </p> + <h3> + THE STONE + </h3> + <p> + As soon as Setoc arrived among his own tribe he demanded the payment of + five hundred ounces of silver, which he had lent to a Jew in presence of + two witnesses; but as the witnesses were dead, and the debt could not be + proved, the Hebrew appropriated the merchant’s money to himself, and + piously thanked God for putting it in his power to cheat an Arabian. Setoc + imparted this troublesome affair to Zadig, who was now become his counsel. + </p> + <p> + “In what place,” said Zadig, “didst thou lend the five + hundred ounces to this infidel?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon a large stone,” replied the merchant, “that lies + near Mount Oreb.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the character of thy debtor?” said Zadig. “That + of a knave,” returned Setoc. + </p> + <p> + “But I ask thee whether he is lively or phlegmatic, cautious or + imprudent?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, of all bad payers,” said Setoc, “the most lively + fellow I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed Zadig, “allow me to plead thy cause.” + In effect Zadig, having summoned the Jew to the tribunal, addressed the + judge in the following terms: “Pillar of the throne of equity, I + come to demand of this man, in the name of my master, five hundred ounces + of silver, which he refuses to pay.” + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou any witnesses?” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + “No, they are dead; but there remains a large stone upon which the + money was counted; and if it please thy grandeur to order the stone to be + sought for, I hope that it will bear witness. The Hebrew and I will tarry + here till the stone arrives; I will send for it at my master’s + expense.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” replied the judge, and immediately + applied himself to the discussion of other affairs. + </p> + <p> + When the court was going to break up, the judge said to Zadig. “Well, + friend, is not thy stone come yet?” + </p> + <p> + The Hebrew replied with a smile, “Thy grandeur may stay here till + the morrow, and after all not see the stone. It is more than six miles + from hence; and it would require fifteen men to move it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” cried Zadig, “did not I say that the stone would + bear witness? Since this man knows where it is, he thereby confesses that + it was upon it that the money was counted.” The Hebrew was + disconcerted, and was soon after obliged to confess the truth. The judge + ordered him to be fastened to the stone, without meat or drink, till he + should restore the five hundred ounces, which were soon after paid. + </p> + <p> + The slave Zadig and the stone were held in great repute in Arabia. + </p> + <h3> + THE FUNERAL PILE + </h3> + <p> + Setoc, charmed with the happy issue of this affair, made his slave his + intimate friend. He had now conceived as great esteem for him as ever the + King of Babylon had done; and Zadig was glad that Setoc had no wife. He + discovered in his master a good natural disposition, much probity of + heart, and a great share of good sense; but he was sorry to see that, + according to the ancient custom of Arabia, he adored the host of heaven; + that is, the sun, moon, and stars. He sometimes spoke to him on this + subject with great prudence and discretion. At last he told him that these + bodies were like all other bodies in the universe, and no more deserving + of our homage than a tree or a rock. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Setoc, “they are eternal beings; and it is + from them we derive all we enjoy. They animate nature; they regulate the + seasons; and, besides, are removed at such an immense distance from us + that we cannot help revering them.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou receivest more advantage,” replied Zadig, “from + the waters of the Red Sea, which carry thy merchandise to the Indies. Why + may not it be as ancient as the stars? And if thou adorest what is placed + at a distance from thee, thou oughtest to adore the land of the + Gangarides, which lies at the extremity of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Setoc, “the brightness of the stars commands + my adoration.” + </p> + <p> + At night Zadig lighted up a great number of candles in the tent where he + was to sup with Setoc; and the moment his patron appeared, he fell on his + knees before these lighted tapers, and said, “Eternal and shining + luminaries! be ye always propitious to me.” Having thus said, he sat + down at table, without taking the least notice of Setoc. + </p> + <p> + “What art thou doing?” said Setoc to him in amaze. + </p> + <p> + “I act like thee,” replied Zadig, “I adore these + candles, and neglect their master and mine.” Setoc comprehended the + profound sense of this apologue. The wisdom of his slave sunk deep into + his soul; he no longer offered incense to the creatures, but adored the + eternal Being who made them. + </p> + <p> + There prevailed at that time in Arabia a shocking custom, sprung + originally from Leythia, and which, being established in the Indies by the + credit of the Brahmans, threatened to overrun all the East. When a married + man died, and his beloved wife aspired to the character of a saint, she + burned herself publicly on the body of her husband. This was a solemn + feast and was called the Funeral Pile of Widowhood, and that tribe in + which most women had been burned was the most respected. + </p> + <p> + An Arabian of Setoc’s tribe being dead, his widow, whose name was + Almona, and who was very devout, published the day and hour when she + intended to throw herself into the fire, amidst the sound of drums and + trumpets. Zadig remonstrated against this horrible custom; he showed Setoc + how inconsistent it was with the happiness of mankind to suffer young + widows to burn themselves every other day, widows who were capable of + giving children to the state, or at least of educating those they already + had; and he convinced him that it was his duty to do all that lay in his + power to abolish such a barbarous practice. + </p> + <p> + “The women,” said Setoc, “have possessed the right of + burning themselves for more than a thousand years; and who shall dare to + abrogate a law which time hath rendered sacred? Is there anything more + respectable than ancient abuses?” + </p> + <p> + “Reason is more ancient,” replied Zadig; “meanwhile, + speak thou to the chiefs of the tribes and I will go to wait on the young + widow.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly he was introduced to her; and, after having insinuated himself + into her good graces by some compliments on her beauty and told her what a + pity it was to commit so many charms to the flames, he at last praised her + for her constancy and courage. “Thou must surely have loved thy + husband,” said he to her, “with the most passionate fondness.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, I?” replied the lady. “I loved him not at all. He + was a brutal, jealous, insupportable wretch; but I am firmly resolved to + throw myself on his funeral pile.” + </p> + <p> + “It would appear then,” said Zadig, “that there must be + a very delicious pleasure in being burned alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it makes nature shudder,” replied the lady, “but + that must be overlooked. I am a devotee, and I should lose my reputation + and all the world would despise me if I did not burn myself.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig having made her acknowledge that she burned herself to gain the good + opinion of others and to gratify her own vanity, entertained her with a + long discourse, calculated to make her a little in love with life, and + even went so far as to inspire her with some degree of good will for the + person who spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said the lady, “I believe I should desire thee + to marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig’s mind was too much engrossed with the idea of Astarte not to + elude this declaration; but he instantly went to the chiefs of the tribes, + told them what had passed, and advised them to make a law, by which a + widow should not be permitted to burn herself till she had conversed + privately with a young man for the space of an hour. Since that time not a + single woman hath burned herself in Arabia. They were indebted to Zadig + alone for destroying in one day a cruel custom that had lasted for so many + ages and thus he became the benefactor of Arabia. + </p> + <h3> + THE SUPPER + </h3> + <p> + Setoc, who could not separate himself from this man, in whom dwelt wisdom, + carried him to the great fair of Balzora, whither the richest merchants in + the earth resorted. Zadig was highly pleased to see so many men of + different countries united in the same place. He considered the whole + universe as one large family assembled at Balzora. + </p> + <p> + Setoc, after having sold his commodities at a very high price, returned to + his own tribe with his friend Zadig; who learned upon his arrival that he + had been tried in his absence and was now going to be burned by a slow + fire. Only the friendship of Almona saved his life. Like so many pretty + women she possessed great influence with the priesthood. Zadig thought it + best to leave Arabia. + </p> + <p> + Setoc was so charmed with the ingenuity and address of Almona that he made + her his wife. Zadig departed, after having thrown himself at the feet of + his fair deliverer. Setoc and he took leave of each other with tears in + their eyes, swearing an eternal friendship, and promising that the first + of them that should acquire a large fortune should share it with the + other. + </p> + <p> + Zadig directed his course along the frontiers of Assyria, still musing on + the unhappy Astarte, and reflecting on the severity of fortune which + seemed determined to make him the sport of her cruelty and the object of + her persecution. + </p> + <p> + “What,” said he to himself, “four hundred ounces of gold + for having seen a spaniel! condemned to lose my head for four bad verses + in praise of the king! ready to be strangled because the queen had shoes + of the color of my bonnet! reduced to slavery for having succored a woman + who was beat! and on the point of being burned for having saved the lives + of all the young widows of Arabia!” + </p> + <h3> + THE ROBBER + </h3> + <p> + Arriving on the frontiers which divide Arabia Petraea from Syria, he + passed by a pretty strong castle, from which a party of armed Arabians + sallied forth. They instantly surrounded him and cried, “All thou + hast belongs to us, and thy person is the property of our master.” + Zadig replied by drawing his sword; his servant, who was a man of courage, + did the same. They killed the first Arabians that presumed to lay hands on + them; and, though the number was redoubled, they were not dismayed, but + resolved to perish in the conflict. Two men defended themselves against a + multitude; and such a combat could not last long. + </p> + <p> + The master of the castle, whose name was Arbogad, having observed from a + window the prodigies of valor performed by Zadig, conceived a high esteem + for this heroic stranger. He descended in haste and went in person to call + off his men and deliver the two travelers. + </p> + <p> + “All that passes over my lands,” said he, “belongs to + me, as well as what I find upon the lands of others; but thou seemest to + be a man of such undaunted courage that I will exempt thee from the common + law.” He then conducted him to his castle, ordering his men to treat + him well; and in the evening Arbogad supped with Zadig. + </p> + <p> + The lord of the castle was one of those Arabians who are commonly called + robbers; but he now and then performed some good actions amid a multitude + of bad ones. He robbed with a furious rapacity, and granted favors with + great generosity; he was intrepid in action; affable in company; a + debauchee at table, but gay in debauchery; and particularly remarkable for + his frank and open behavior. He was highly pleased with Zadig, whose + lively conversation lengthened the repast. + </p> + <p> + At last Arbogad said to him; “I advise thee to enroll thy name in my + catalogue; thou canst not do better; this is not a bad trade; and thou + mayest one day become what I am at present.” + </p> + <p> + “May I take the liberty of asking thee,” said Zadig, “how + long thou hast followed this noble profession?” + </p> + <p> + “From my most tender youth,” replied the lord. “I was a + servant to a pretty good-natured Arabian, but could not endure the + hardships of my situation. I was vexed to find that fate had given me no + share of the earth, which equally belongs to all men. I imparted the cause + of my uneasiness to an old Arabian, who said to me: ‘My son, do not + despair; there was once a grain of sand that lamented that it was no more + than a neglected atom in the desert; at the end of a few years it became a + diamond; and is now the brightest ornament in the crown of the king of the + Indies.’ This discourse made a deep impression on my mind. I was the + grain of sand, and I resolved to become the diamond. I began by stealing + two horses; I soon got a party of companions; I put myself in a condition + to rob small caravans; and thus, by degrees, I destroyed the difference + which had formerly subsisted between me and other men. I had my share of + the good things of this world; and was even recompensed with usury for the + hardships I had suffered. I was greatly respected, and became the captain + of a band of robbers. I seized this castle by force. The Satrap of Syria + had a mind to dispossess me of it; but I was too rich to have any thing to + fear. I gave the satrap a handsome present, by which means I preserved my + castle and increased my possessions. He even appointed me treasurer of the + tributes which Arabia Petraea pays to the king of kings. I perform my + office of receiver with great punctuality; but take the freedom to + dispense with that of paymaster. + </p> + <p> + “The grand Desterham of Babylon sent hither a pretty satrap in the + name of King Moabdar, to have me strangled. This man arrived with his + orders: I was apprised of all; I caused to be strangled in his presence + the four persons he had brought with him to draw the noose; after which I + asked him how much his commission of strangling me might be worth. He + replied, that his fees would amount to about three hundred pieces of gold. + I then convinced him that he might gain more by staying with me. I made + him an inferior robber; and he is now one of my best and richest officers. + If thou wilt take my advice thy success may be equal to his; never was + there a better season for plunder, since King Moabdar is killed, and all + Babylon thrown into confusion.” + </p> + <p> + “Moabdar killed!” said Zadig, “and what is become of + Queen Astarte?” + </p> + <p> + “I know not,” replied Arbogad. “All I know is, that + Moabdar lost his senses and was killed; that Babylon is a scene of + disorder and bloodshed; that all the empire is desolated; that there are + some fine strokes to be struck yet; and that, for my own part, I have + struck some that are admirable.” + </p> + <p> + “But the queen,” said Zadig; “for heaven’s sake, + knowest thou nothing of the queen’s fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied he, “I have heard something of a prince + of Hircania; if she was not killed in the tumult, she is probably one of + his concubines; but I am much fonder of booty than news. I have taken + several women in my excursions; but I keep none of them. I sell them at a + high price, when they are beautiful, without inquiring who they are. In + commodities of this kind rank makes no difference, and a queen that is + ugly will never find a merchant. Perhaps I may have sold Queen Astarte; + perhaps she is dead; but, be it as it will, it is of little consequence to + me, and I should imagine of as little to thee.” So saying he drank a + large draught which threw all his ideas into such confusion that Zadig + could obtain no further information. + </p> + <p> + Zadig remained for some time without speech, sense, or motion. Arbogad + continued drinking; told stories; constantly repeated that he was the + happiest man in the world; and exhorted Zadig to put himself in the same + condition. At last the soporiferous fumes of the wine lulled him into a + gentle repose. + </p> + <p> + Zadig passed the night in the most violent perturbation. “What,” + said he, “did the king lose his senses? and is he killed? I cannot + help lamenting his fate. The empire is rent in pieces; and this robber is + happy. O fortune! O destiny! A robber is happy, and the most beautiful of + nature’s works hath perhaps perished in a barbarous manner or lives + in a state worse than death. O Astarte! what is become of thee?” + </p> + <p> + At daybreak he questioned all those he met in the castle; but they were + all busy, and he received no answer. During the night they had made a new + capture, and they were now employed in dividing the spoils. All he could + obtain in this hurry and confusion was an opportunity of departing, which + he immediately embraced, plunged deeper than ever in the most gloomy and + mournful reflections. + </p> + <p> + Zadig proceeded on his journey with a mind full of disquiet and + perplexity, and wholly employed on the unhappy Astarte, on the King of + Babylon, on his faithful friend Cador, on the happy robber Arbogad; in a + word, on all the misfortunes and disappointments he had hitherto suffered. + </p> + <h3> + THE FISHERMAN + </h3> + <p> + At a few leagues’ distance from Arbogad’s castle he came to + the banks of a small river, still deploring his fate, and considering + himself as the most wretched of mankind. He saw a fisherman lying on the + brink of the river, scarcely holding, in his weak and feeble hand, a net + which he seemed ready to drop, and lifting up his eyes to Heaven. + </p> + <p> + “I am certainly,” said the fisherman, “the most unhappy + man in the world. I was universally allowed to be the most famous dealer + in cream cheese in Babylon, and yet I am ruined. I had the most handsome + wife that any man in my station could have; and by her I have been + betrayed. I had still left a paltry house, and that I have seen pillaged + and destroyed. At last I took refuge in this cottage, where I have no + other resource than fishing, and yet I cannot catch a single fish. Oh, my + net! no more will I throw thee into the water; I will throw myself in thy + place.” So saying, he arose and advanced forward, in the attitude of + a man ready to throw himself into the river, and thus to finish his life. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Zadig to himself, “are there men as + wretched as I?” His eagerness to save the fisherman’s life was + as this reflection. He ran to him, stopped him, and spoke to him with a + tender and compassionate air. It is commonly supposed that we are less + miserable when we have companions in our misery. This, according to + Zoroaster, does not proceed from <i>malice</i>, but necessity. We feel + ourselves insensibly drawn to an unhappy person as to one like ourselves. + The joy of the happy would be an insult; but two men in distress are like + two slender trees, which, mutually supporting each other, fortify + themselves against the storm. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Zadig to the fisherman, “dost thou sink + under thy misfortunes?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied he, “I see no means of relief. I was + the most considerable man in the village of Derlback, near Babylon, and + with the assistance of my wife I made the best cream cheese in the empire. + Queen Astarte and the famous minister Zadig were extremely fond of them.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig, transported, said, “What, knowest thou nothing of the queen’s + fate?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord,” replied the fisherman; “but I know that + neither the queen nor Zadig has paid me for my cream cheeses; that I have + lost my wife, and am now reduced to despair.” + </p> + <p> + “I flatter myself,” said Zadig, “that thou wilt not lose + all thy money. I have heard of this Zadig; he is an honest man; and if he + returns to Babylon, as he expects, he will give thee more than he owes + thee. Believe me, go to Babylon. I shall be there before thee, because I + am on horseback, and thou art on foot. Apply to the illustrious Cador; + tell him thou hast met his friend; wait for me at his house; go, perhaps + thou wilt not always be unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, powerful Oromazes!” continued he, “thou employest + me to comfort this man; whom wilt thou employ to give me consolation?” + So saying, he gave the fisherman half the money he had brought from + Arabia. The fisherman, struck with surprise and ravished with joy, kissed + the feet of the friend of Cador, and said, “Thou art surely an angel + sent from Heaven to save me!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Zadig continued to make fresh inquiries, and to shed tears. + “What, my lord!” cried the fisherman, “art thou then so + unhappy, thou who bestowest favors?” + </p> + <p> + “An hundred times more unhappy than thou art,” replied Zadig. + </p> + <p> + “But how is it possible,” said the good man, “that the + giver can be more wretched than the receiver?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Zadig, “thy greatest misery arose + from poverty, and mine is seated in the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Orcan take thy wife from thee?” said the fisherman. + </p> + <p> + This word recalled to Zadig’s mind the whole of his adventures. + </p> + <p> + He repeated the catalogue of his misfortunes, beginning with the queen’s + spaniel, and ending with his arrival at the castle of the robber Arbogad. + “Ah!” said he to the fisherman, “Orcan deserves to be + punished; but it is commonly such men as those that are the favorites of + fortune. However, go thou to the house of Lord Cador, and there wait my + arrival.” They then parted, the fisherman walked, thanking Heaven + for the happiness of his condition; and Zadig rode, accusing fortune for + the hardness of his lot. + </p> + <h3> + THE BASILISK + </h3> + <p> + Arriving in a beautiful meadow, he there saw several women, who were + searching for something with great application. He took the liberty to + approach one of them, and to ask if he might have the honor to assist them + in their search. “Take care that thou dost not,” replied the + Syrian; “what we are searching for can be touched only by women.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange,” said Zadig, “may I presume to ask thee what + it is that women only are permitted to touch?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a basilisk,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “A basilisk, madam! and for what purpose, pray, dost thou seek for a + basilisk?” + </p> + <p> + “It is for our lord and master Ogul, whose cattle thou seest on the + bank of that river at the end of the meadow. We are his most humble + slaves. The lord Ogul is sick. His physician hath ordered him to eat a + basilisk, stewed in rose water; and as it is a very rare animal, and can + only be taken by women, the lord Ogul hath promised to choose for his + well-beloved wife the woman that shall bring him a basilisk; let me go on + in my search; for thou seest what I shall lose if I am prevented by my + companions.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig left her and the other Assyrians to search for their basilisk, and + continued to walk in the meadow; when coming to the brink of a small + rivulet, he found another lady lying on the grass, and who was not + searching for anything. Her person worried to be majestic; but her face + was covered with a veil. She was inclined toward the rivulet, and profound + sighs proceeded from her mouth. In her hand she held a small rod with + which she was tracing characters on the fine sand that lay between the + turf and the brook. Zadig had the curiosity to examine what this woman was + writing. He drew near; he saw the letter Z, then an A; he was astonished; + then appeared a D; he started. But never was surprise equal to his when he + saw the last letters of his name. + </p> + <p> + He stood for some time immovable. At last, breaking silence with a + faltering voice: “O generous lady! pardon a stranger, an unfortunate + man, for presuming to ask thee by what surprising adventure I here find + the name of Zadig traced out by thy divine hand!” + </p> + <p> + At this voice and these words, the lady lifted up the veil with a + trembling hand, looked at Zadig, sent forth a cry of tenderness, surprise + and joy, and sinking under the various emotions which at once assaulted + her soul, fell speechless into his arms. It was Astarte herself; it was + the Queen of Babylon; it was she whom Zadig adored, and whom he had + reproached himself for adoring; it was she whose misfortunes he had so + deeply lamented, and for whose fate he had been so anxiously concerned. + </p> + <p> + He was for a moment deprived of the use of his senses, when he had fixed + his eyes on those of Astarte, which now began to open again with a languor + mixed with confusion and tenderness: “O ye immortal powers!” + cried he, “who preside over the fates of weak mortals, do ye indeed + restore Astarte to me! at what a time, in what a place, and in what a + condition do I again behold her!” He fell on his knees before + Astarte and laid his face in the dust at her feet. The Queen of Babylon + raised him up, and made him sit by her side on the brink of the rivulet. + She frequently wiped her eyes, from which the tears continued to flow + afresh. She twenty times resumed her discourse, which her sighs as often + interrupted; she asked by what strange accident they were brought + together, and suddenly prevented his answers by other questions; she + waived the account of her own misfortunes, and desired to be informed of + those of Zadig. + </p> + <p> + At last, both of them having a little composed the tumult of their souls, + Zadig acquainted her in a few words by what adventure he was brought into + that meadow. “But, O unhappy and respectable queen! by what means do + I find thee in this lonely place, clothed in the habit of a slave, and + accompanied by other female slaves, who are searching for a basilisk, + which, by order of the physician, is to be stewed in rose water?” + </p> + <p> + “While they are searching for their basilisk,” said the fair + Astarte, “I will inform thee of all I have suffered, for which + Heaven has sufficiently recompensed me by restoring thee to my sight. Thou + knowest that the king, my husband, was vexed to see thee the most amiable + of mankind; and that for this reason he one night resolved to strangle + thee and poison me. Thou knowest how Heaven permitted my little mute to + inform me of the orders of his sublime majesty. Hardly had the faithful + Cador advised thee to depart, in obedience to my command, when he ventured + to enter my apartment at midnight by a secret passage. He carried me off + and conducted me to the temple of Oromazes, where the mage his brother + shut me up in that huge statue whose base reaches to the foundation of the + temple and whose top rises to the summit of the dome. I was there buried + in a manner; but was saved by the mage; and supplied with all the + necessaries of life. At break of day his majesty’s apothecary + entered my chamber with a potion composed of a mixture of henbane, opium, + hemlock, black hellebore, and aconite; and another officer went to thine + with a bowstring of blue silk. Neither of us was to be found. Cador, the + better to deceive the king, pretended to come and accuse us both. He said + that thou hadst taken the road to the Indies, and I that to Memphis, on + which the king’s guards were immediately dispatched in pursuit of us + both. + </p> + <p> + “The couriers who pursued me did not know me. I had hardly ever + shown my face to any but thee, and to thee only in the presence and by the + order of my husband. They conducted themselves in the pursuit by the + description that had been given them of my person. On the frontiers of + Egypt they met with a woman of the same stature with me, and possessed + perhaps of greater charms. She was weeping and wandering. They made no + doubt but that this woman was the Queen of Babylon and accordingly brought + her to Moabdar. Their mistake at first threw the king into a violent + passion; but having viewed this woman more attentively, he found her + extremely handsome and was comforted. She was called Missouf. I have since + been informed that this name in the Egyptian language signifies the + capricious fair one. She was so in reality; but she had as much cunning as + caprice. She pleased Moabdar and gained such an ascendancy over him as to + make him choose her for his wife. Her character then began to appear in + its true colors. She gave herself up, without scruple, to all the freaks + of a wanton imagination. She would have obliged the chief of the magi, who + was old and gouty, to dance before her; and on his refusal, she persecuted + him with the most unrelenting cruelty. She ordered her master of the horse + to make her a pie of sweetmeats. In vain did he represent that he was not + a pastry-cook; he was obliged to make it, and lost his place, because it + was baked a little too hard. The post of master of the horse she gave to + her dwarf, and that of chancellor to her page. In this manner did she + govern Babylon. Everybody regretted the loss of me. The king, who till the + moment of his resolving to poison me and strangle thee had been a + tolerably good kind of man, seemed now to have drowned all his virtues in + his immoderate fondness for this capricious fair one. He came to the + temple on the great day of the feast held in honor of the sacred fire. I + saw him implore the gods in behalf of Missouf, at the feet of the statue + in which I was inclosed. I raised my voice, I cried out, ‘The gods + reject the prayers of a king who is now become a tyrant, and who attempted + to murder a reasonable wife, in order to marry a woman remarkable for + nothing but her folly and extravagance.’ At these words Moabdar was + confounded and his head became disordered. The oracle I had pronounced, + and the tyranny of Missouf, conspired to deprive him of his judgment, and + in a few days his reason entirely forsook him. + </p> + <p> + “Moabdar’s madness, which seemed to be the judgment of Heaven, + was the signal to a revolt. The people rose and ran to arms; and Babylon, + which had been so long immersed in idleness and effeminacy, became the + theater of a bloody civil war. I was taken from the heart of my statue and + placed at the head of a party. Cador flew to Memphis to bring thee back to + Babylon. The Prince of Hircania, informed of these fatal events, returned + with his army and made a third party in Chaldea. He attacked the king, who + fled before him with his capricious Egyptian. Moabdar died pierced with + wounds. I myself had the misfortune to be taken by a party of Hircanians, + who conducted me to their prince’s tent, at the very moment that + Missouf was brought before him. Thou wilt doubtless be pleased to hear + that the prince thought me beautiful; but thou wilt be sorry to be + informed that he designed me for his seraglio. He told me, with a blunt + and resolute air, that as soon as he had finished a military expedition, + which he was just going to undertake, he would come to me. Judge how great + must have been my grief. My ties with Moabdar were already dissolved; I + might have been the wife of Zadig; and I was fallen into the hands of a + barbarian. I answered him with all the pride which my high rank and noble + sentiment could inspire. I had always heard it affirmed that Heaven + stamped on persons of my condition a mark of grandeur, which, with a + single word or glance, could reduce to the lowliness of the most profound + respect those rash and forward persons who presume to deviate from the + rules of politeness. I spoke like a queen, but was treated like a + maidservant. The Hircanian, without even deigning to speak to me, told his + black eunuch that I was impertinent, but that he thought me handsome. He + ordered him to take care of me, and to put me under the regimen of + favorites, that so my complexion being improved, I might be the more + worthy of his favors when he should be at leisure to honor me with them, I + told him that rather than submit to his desires I would put an end to my + life. He replied, with a smile, that women, he believed, were not, so + bloodthirsty, and that he was accustomed to such violent expressions; and + then left me with the air of a man who had just put another parrot into + his aviary. What a state for the first queen of the universe, and, what is + more, for a heart devoted to Zadig!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Zadig threw himself at her feet and bathed them with his + tears. Astarte raised him with great tenderness and thus continued her + story: “I now saw myself in the power of a barbarian and rival to + the foolish woman with whom I was confined. She gave me an account of her + adventures in Egypt. From the description she gave me of your person, from + the time, from the dromedary on which you were mounted, and from every + other circumstance, I inferred that Zadig was the man who had fought for + her. I doubted not but that you were at Memphis, and, therefore, resolved + to repair thither. Beautiful Missouf, said I, thou art more handsome than + I, and will please the Prince of Hircania much better. Assist me in + contriving the means of my escape; thou wilt then reign alone; thou wilt + at once make me happy and rid thyself of a rival. Missouf concerted with + me the means of my flight; and I departed secretly with a female Egyptian + slave. + </p> + <p> + “As I approached the frontiers of Arabia, a famous robber, named + Arbogad, seized me and sold me to some merchants, who brought me to this + castle, where Lord Ogul resides. He bought me without knowing who I was. + He is a voluptuary, ambitious of nothing but good living, and thinks that + God sent him into the world for no other purpose than to sit at table. He + is so extremely corpulent that he is always in danger of suffocation. His + physician, who has but little credit with him when he has a good + digestion, governs him with a despotic sway when he has eaten too much. He + has persuaded him that a basilisk stewed in rose water will effect a + complete cure. The Lord Ogul hath promised his hand to the female slave + that brings him a basilisk. Thou seest that I leave them to vie with each + other in meriting this honor; and never was I less desirous of finding the + basilisk than since Heaven hath restored thee to my sight.” + </p> + <p> + This account was succeeded by a long conversation between Astarte and + Zadig, consisting of everything that their long-suppressed sentiments, + their great sufferings, and their mutual love could inspire in hearts the + most noble and tender; and the genii who preside over love carried their + words to the sphere of Venus. + </p> + <p> + The woman returned to Ogul without having found the basilisk. Zadig was + introduced to this mighty lord and spoke to him in the following terms: + “May immortal health descend from heaven to bless all thy days! I am + a physician; at the first report of thy indisposition I flew to thy castle + and have now brought thee a basilisk stewed in rose water. Not that I + pretend to marry thee. All I ask is the liberty of a Babylonian slave, who + hath been in thy possession for a few days; and, if I should not be so + happy as to cure thee, magnificent Lord Ogul, I consent to remain a slave + in her place.” + </p> + <p> + The proposal was accepted. Astarte set out for Babylon with Zadig’s + servant, promising, immediately upon her arrival, to send a courier to + inform him of all that had happened. Their parting was as tender as their + meeting. The moment of meeting and that of parting are the two greatest + epochs of life, as sayeth the great book of Zend. Zadig loved the queen + with as much ardor as he professed; and the queen loved him more than she + thought proper to acknowledge. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Zadig spoke thus to Ogul: “My lord, my basilisk is not to + be eaten; all its virtues must enter through thy pores. I have inclosed it + in a little ball, blown up and covered with a fine skin. Thou must strike + this ball with all thy might and I must strike it back for a considerable + time; and by observing this regimen for a few days thou wilt see the + effects of my art.” The first day Ogul was out of breath and thought + he should have died with fatigue. The second he was less fatigued, slept + better. In eight days he recovered all the strength, all the health, all + the agility and cheerfulness of his most agreeable years. + </p> + <p> + “Thou hast played at ball, and thou hast been temperate,” said + Zadig; “know that there is no such thing in nature as a basilisk; + that temperance and exercise are the two great preservatives of health; + and that the art of reconciling intemperance and health is as chimerical + as the philosopher’s stone, judicial astrology, or the theology of + the magi.” + </p> + <p> + Ogul’s first physician, observing how dangerous this man might prove + to the medical art, formed a design, in conjunction with the apothecary, + to send Zadig to search for a basilisk in the other world. Thus, having + suffered such a long train of calamities on account of his good actions, + he was now upon the point of losing his life for curing a gluttonous lord. + He was invited to an excellent dinner and was to have been poisoned in the + second course, but, during the first, he happily received a courier from + the fair Astarte. “When one is beloved by a beautiful woman,” + says the great Zoroaster, “he hath always the good fortune to + extricate himself out of every kind of difficulty and danger.” + </p> + <h3> + THE COMBATS + </h3> + <p> + The queen was received at Babylon with all those transports of joy which + are ever felt on the return of a beautiful princess who hath been involved + in calamities. Babylon was now in greater tranquillity. The Prince of + Hircania had been killed in battle. The victorious Babylonians declared + that the queen should marry the man whom they should choose for their + sovereign. They were resolved that the first place in the world, that of + being husband to Astarte and King of Babylon, should not depend on cabals + and intrigues. They swore to acknowledge for king the man who, upon trial, + should be found to be possessed of the greatest valor and the greatest + wisdom. Accordingly, at the distance of a few leagues from the city, a + spacious place was marked out for the list, surrounded with magnificent + amphitheaters. Thither the combatants were to repair in complete armor. + Each of them had a separate apartment behind the amphitheaters, where they + were neither to be seen nor known by anyone. Each was to encounter four + knights, and those that were so happy as to conquer four were then to + engage with one another; so that he who remained the last master of the + field would be proclaimed conqueror at the games. + </p> + <p> + Four days after he was to return with the same arms and to explain the + enigmas proposed by the magi. If he did not explain the enigmas he was not + king; and the running at the lances was to be begun afresh till a man + would be found who was conqueror in both these combats; for they were + absolutely determined to have a king possessed of the greatest wisdom and + the most invincible courage. The queen was all the while to be strictly + guarded: she was only allowed to be present at the games, and even there + she was to be covered with a veil; but was not permitted to speak to any + of the competitors, that so they might neither receive favor, nor suffer + injustice. + </p> + <p> + These particulars Astarte communicated to her lover, hoping that in order + to obtain her he would show himself possessed of greater courage and + wisdom than any other person. Zadig set out on his journey, beseeching + Venus to fortify his courage and enlighten his understanding. He arrived + on the banks of the Euphrates on the eve of this great day. He caused his + device to be inscribed among those of the combatants, concealing his face + and his name, as the law ordained; and then went to repose himself in the + apartment that fell to him by lot. His friend Cador, who, after the + fruitless search he had made for him in Egypt, was now returned to + Babylon, sent to his tent a complete suit of armor, which was a present + from the queen; as also, from himself, one of the finest horses in Persia. + Zadig presently perceived that these presents were sent by Astarte; and + from thence his courage derived fresh strength, and his love the most + animating hopes. + </p> + <p> + Next day, the queen being seated under a canopy of jewels, and the + amphitheaters filled with all the gentlemen and ladies of rank in Babylon, + the combatants appeared in the circus. Each of them came and laid his + device at the feet of the grand magi. They drew their devices by lot; and + that of Zadig was the last. The first who advanced was a certain lord, + named Itobad, very rich and very vain, but possessed of little courage, of + less address, and hardly of any judgment at all. His servants had + persuaded him that such a man as he ought to be king; he had said in + reply, “Such a man as I ought to reign”; and thus they had + armed him cap-à-pie. He wore an armor of gold enameled with green, a plume + of green feathers, and a lance adorned with green ribbons. It was + instantly perceived by the manner in which Itobad managed his horse, that + it was not for such a man as he that Heaven reserved the scepter of + Babylon. The first knight that ran against him threw him out of his + saddle; the second laid him flat on his horse’s buttocks, with his + legs in the air, and his arms extended. Itobad recovered himself, but with + so bad a grace that the whole amphitheater burst out a-laughing. The third + knight disdained to make use of his lance; but, making a pass at him, took + him by the right leg and, wheeling him half round, laid him prostrate on + the sand. The squires of the game ran to him laughing, and replaced him in + his saddle. The fourth combatant took him by the left leg, and tumbled him + down on the other side. He was conducted back with scornful shouts to his + tent, where, according to the law, he was to pass the night; and as he + climbed along with great difficulty he said, “What an adventure for + such a man as I!” + </p> + <p> + The other knights acquitted themselves with greater ability and success. + Some of them conquered two combatants; a few of them vanquished three; but + none but Prince Otamus conquered four. At last Zadig fought him in his + turn. He successively threw four knights off their saddles with all the + grace imaginable. It then remained to be seen who should be conqueror, + Otamus or Zadig. The arms of the first were gold and blue, with a plume of + the same color; those of the last were white. The wishes of all the + spectators were divided between the knight in blue and the knight in + white. The queen, whose heart was in a violent palpitation, offered + prayers to Heaven for the success of the white color. + </p> + <p> + The two champions made their passes and vaults with so much agility, they + mutually gave and received such dexterous blows with their lances, and sat + so firmly in their saddles, that everybody but the queen wished there + might be two kings in Babylon. At length, their horses being tired and + their lances broken, Zadig had recourse to this stratagem: He passes + behind the blue prince; springs upon the buttocks of his horse; seizes him + by the middle; throws him on the earth; places himself in the saddle; and + wheels around Otamus as he lay extended on the ground. All the + amphitheater cried out, “Victory to the white knight!” + </p> + <p> + Otamus rises in a violent passion, and draws his sword; Zadig leaps from + his horse with his saber in his hand. Both of them are now on the ground, + engaged in a new combat, where strength and agility triumph by turns. The + plumes of their helmets, the studs of their bracelets, the rings of their + armor, are driven to a great distance by the violence of a thousand + furious blows. They strike with the point and the edge; to the right, to + the left, on the head, on the breast; they retreat; they advance; they + measure swords; they close; they seize each other; they bend like + serpents; they attack like lions; and the fire every moment flashes from + their blows. + </p> + <p> + At last Zadig, having recovered his spirits, stops; makes a feint; leaps + upon Otamus; throws him on the ground and disarms him; and Otamus cries + out, “It is thou alone, O white knight, that oughtest to reign over + Babylon!” The queen was now at the height of her joy. The knight in + blue armor and the knight in white were conducted each to his own + apartment, as well as all the others, according to the intention of the + law. Mutes came to wait upon them and to serve them at table. It may be + easily supposed that the queen’s little mute waited upon Zadig. They + were then left to themselves to enjoy the sweets of repose till next + morning, at which time the conqueror was to bring his device to the grand + magi, to compare it with that which he had left, and make himself known. + </p> + <p> + Zadig though deeply in love, was so much fatigued that he could not help + sleeping. Itobad, who lay near him, never closed his eyes. He arose in the + night, entered his apartment, took the white arms and the device of Zadig, + and put his green armor in their place. At break of day he went boldly to + the grand magi to declare that so great a man as he was conqueror. This + was little expected; however, he was proclaimed while Zadig was still + asleep. Astarte, surprised and filled with despair, returned to Babylon. + The amphitheater was almost empty when Zadig awoke; he sought for his + arms, but could find none but the green armor. With this he was obliged to + cover himself, having nothing else near him. Astonished and enraged, he + put it on in a furious passion, and advanced in this equipage. + </p> + <p> + The people that still remained in the amphitheater and the circus received + him with hoots and hisses. They surrounded him and insulted him to his + face. Never did man suffer such cruel mortifications. He lost his + patience; with his saber he dispersed such of the populace as dared to + affront him; but he knew not what course to take. He could not see the + queen; he could not claim the white armor she had sent him without + exposing her; and thus, while she was plunged in grief, he was filled with + fury and distraction. He walked on the banks of the Euphrates, fully + persuaded that his star had destined him to inevitable misery, and + resolving in his own mind all his misfortunes, from the adventure of the + woman who hated one-eyed men to that of his armor. “This,” + said he, “is the consequence of my having slept too long. Had I + slept less, I should now have been King of Babylon and in possession of + Astarte. Knowledge, virtue, and courage have hitherto served only to make + me miserable.” He then let fall some secret murmurings against + Providence, and was tempted to believe that the world was governed by a + cruel destiny, which oppressed the good and prospered knights in green + armor. One of his greatest mortifications was his being obliged to wear + that green armor which had exposed him to such contumelious treatment. A + merchant happening to pass by, he sold it to him for a trifle and bought a + gown and a long bonnet. In this garb he proceeded along the banks of the + Euphrates, filled with despair, and secretly accusing Providence, which + thus continued to persecute him with unremitting severity. + </p> + <h3> + THE HERMIT + </h3> + <p> + While he was thus sauntering he met a hermit, whose white and venerable + beard hung down to his girdle. He held a book in his hand, which he read + with great attention. Zadig stopped, and made him a profound obeisance. + The hermit returned the compliment with such a noble and engaging air, + that Zadig had the curiosity to enter into conversation with him. He asked + him what book it was that he had been reading? “It is the Book of + Destinies,” said the hermit; “wouldst thou choose to look into + it?” He put the book into the hands of Zadig, who, thoroughly versed + as he was in several languages, could not decipher a single character of + it. This only redoubled his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Thou seemest,” said this good father, “to be in great + distress.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas,” replied Zadig, “I have but too much reason.” + </p> + <p> + “If thou wilt permit me to accompany thee,” resumed the old + man, “perhaps I may be of some service to thee. I have often poured + the balm of consolation into the bleeding heart of the unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig felt himself inspired with respect for the air, the beard, and the + book of the hermit. He found, in the course of the conversation, that he + was possessed of superior degrees of knowledge. The hermit talked of fate, + of justice, of morals, of the chief good, of human weakness, and of virtue + and vice, with such a spirited and moving eloquence, that Zadig felt + himself drawn toward him by an irresistible charm. He earnestly entreated + the favor of his company till their return to Babylon. + </p> + <p> + “I ask the same favor of thee,” said the old man; “swear + to me by Oromazes, that whatever I do, thou wilt not leave me for some + days.” Zadig swore, and they set out together. + </p> + <p> + In the evening the two travelers arrived in a superb castle. The hermit + entreated a hospitable reception for himself and the young man who + accompanied him. The porter, whom one might have easily mistaken for a + great lord, introduced them with a kind of disdainful civility. He + presented them to a principal domestic, who showed them his master’s + magnificent apartments. They were admitted to the lower end of the table, + without being honored with the least mark of regard by the lord of the + castle; but they were served, like the rest, with delicacy and profusion. + They were then presented with water to wash their hands, in a golden basin + adorned with emeralds and rubies. At last they were conducted to bed in a + beautiful apartment; and in the morning a domestic brought each of them a + piece of gold, after which they took their leave and departed. + </p> + <p> + “The master of the house,” said Zadig, as they were proceeding + on the journey, “appears to be a generous man, though somewhat too + proud; he nobly performs the duties of hospitality.” At that instant + he observed that a kind of large pocket, which the hermit had, was filled + and distended; and upon looking more narrowly he found that it contained + the golden basin adorned with precious stones, which the hermit had + stolen. He durst not take any notice of it, but he was filled with a + strange surprise. + </p> + <p> + About noon, the hermit came to the door of a paltry house inhabited by a + rich miser, and begged the favor of an hospitable reception for a few + hours. An old servant, in a tattered garb, received them with a blunt and + rude air, and led them into the stable, where he gave them some rotten + olives, moldy bread, and sour beer. The hermit ate and drank with as much + seeming satisfaction as he had done the evening before; and then + addressing himself to the old servant, who watched them both, to prevent + their stealing anything, and rudely pressed them to depart, he gave him + the two pieces of gold he had received in the morning, and thanked him for + his great civility. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” added he, “allow me to speak to thy master.” + The servant, filled with astonishment, introduced the two travelers. + “Magnificent lord,” said the hermit, “I cannot but + return thee my most humble thanks for the noble manner in which thou hast + entertained us. Be pleased to accept this golden basin as a small mark of + my gratitude.” The miser started, and was ready to fall backward; + but the hermit, without giving him time to recover from his surprise, + instantly departed with his young fellow traveler. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Zadig, “what is the meaning of all this? + Thou seemest to me to be entirely different from other men; thou stealest + a golden basin adorned with precious stones from a lord who received thee + magnificently, and givest it to a miser who treats thee with indignity.” + </p> + <p> + “Son,” replied the old man, “this magnificent lord, who + receives strangers only from vanity and ostentation, will hereby be + rendered more wise; and the miser will learn to practice the duties of + hospitality. Be surprised at nothing, but follow me.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig knew not as yet whether he was in company with the most foolish or + the most prudent of mankind; but the hermit spoke with such an ascendancy, + that Zadig, who was moreover bound by his oath, could not refuse to follow + him. + </p> + <p> + In the evening they arrived at a house built with equal elegance and + simplicity, where nothing savored either of prodigality or avarice. The + master of it was a philosopher, who had retired from the world, and who + cultivated in peace the study of virtue and wisdom, without any of that + rigid and morose severity so commonly to be found in men of his character. + He had chosen to build this country house, in which he received strangers + with a generosity free from ostentation. He went himself to meet the two + travelers, whom he led into a commodious apartment, where he desired them + to repose themselves a little. Soon after he came and invited them to a + decent and well-ordered repast during which he spoke with great judgment + of the last revolutions in Babylon. He seemed to be strongly attached to + the queen, and wished that Zadig had appeared in the lists to dispute the + crown. “But the people,” added he, “do not deserve to + have such a king as Zadig.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig blushed, and felt his griefs redoubled. They agreed, in the course + of the conversation, that the things of this world did not always answer + the wishes of the wise. The hermit still maintained that the ways of + Providence were inscrutable; and that men were in the wrong to judge of a + whole, of which they understood but the smallest part. + </p> + <p> + They talked of passions. “Ah,” said Zadig, “how fatal + are their effects!” + </p> + <p> + “They are in the winds,” replied the hermit, “that swell + the sails of the ship; it is true, they sometimes sink her, but without + them she could not sail at all. The bile makes us sick and choleric; but + without bile we could not live. Everything in this world is dangerous, and + yet everything is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation turned on pleasure; and the hermit proved that it was a + present bestowed by the Deity. “For,” said he, “man + cannot give himself either sensations or ideas; he receives all; and pain + and pleasure proceed from a foreign cause as well as his being.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig was surprised to see a man, who had been guilty of such extravagant + actions, capable of reasoning with so much judgment and propriety. At + last, after a conversation equally entertaining and instructive, the host + led back his two guests to their apartment, blessing Heaven for having + sent him two men possessed of so much wisdom and virtue. He offered them + money with such an easy and noble air as could not possibly give any + offense. The hermit refused it, and said that he must now take his leave + of him, as he set out for Babylon before it was light. Their parting Was + tender; Zadig especially felt himself filled with esteem and affection for + a man of such an amiable character. + </p> + <p> + When he and the hermit were alone in their apartment, they spent a long + time praising their host. At break of day the old man awakened his + companion. “We must now depart,” said he, “but while all + the family are still asleep, I will leave this man a mark of my esteem and + affection.” So saying, he took a candle and set fire to the house. + </p> + <p> + Zadig, struck with horror, cried aloud, and endeavored to hinder him from + committing such a barbarous action; but the hermit drew him away by a + superior force, and the house was soon in flames. The hermit, who, with + his companion, was already at a considerable distance, looked back to the + conflagration with great tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks be to God,” said he, “the house of my dear host + is entirely destroyed! Happy man!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Zadig was at once tempted to burst out a-laughing, to + reproach the reverend father, to beat him, and to run away. But he did + none of all of these, for still subdued by the powerful ascendancy of the + hermit, he followed him, in spite of himself, to the next stage. + </p> + <p> + This was at the house of a charitable and virtuous widow, who had a nephew + fourteen years of age, a handsome and promising youth, and her only hope. + She performed the honors of her house as well as she could. Next day, she + ordered her nephew to accompany the strangers to a bridge, which being + lately broken down, was become extremely dangerous in passing. The young + man walked before them with great alacrity. As they were crossing the + bridge, “Come” said the hermit to the youth, “I must + show my gratitude to thy aunt.” He then took him by the hair and + plunged him into the river. The boy sunk, appeared again on the surface of + the water, and was swallowed up by the current. + </p> + <p> + “O monster! O thou most wicked of mankind!” cried Zadig. + </p> + <p> + “Thou promisedst to behave with greater patience,” said the + hermit, interrupting him. “Know that under the ruins of that house + which Providence hath set on fire the master hath found an immense + treasure. Know that this young, man, whose life Providence hath shortened, + would have assassinated his aunt in the space of a year, and thee in that + of two.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told thee so, barbarian?” cried Zadig; “and though + thou hadst read this event in thy Book of Destinies, art thou permitted to + drown a youth who never did thee any harm?” + </p> + <p> + While the Babylonian was thus exclaiming, he observed that the old man had + no longer a beard, and that his countenance assumed the features and + complexion of youth. The hermit’s habit disappeared, and four + beautiful wings covered a majestic body resplendent with light. + </p> + <p> + “O sent of heaven! O divine angel!” cried Zadig, humbly + prostrating himself on the ground, “hast thou then descended from + the Empyrean to teach a weak mortal to submit to the eternal decrees of + Providence?” + </p> + <p> + “Men,” said the angel Jesrad, “judge of all without + knowing anything; and, of all men, thou best deservest to be enlightened.” + </p> + <p> + Zadig begged to be permitted to speak. “I distrust myself,” + said he, “but may I presume to ask the favor of thee to clear up one + doubt that still remains in my mind? Would it not have been better to have + corrected this youth, and made him virtuous, than to have drowned him?” + </p> + <p> + “Had he been virtuous,” replied Jesrad, “and enjoyed a + longer life, it would have been his fate to be assassinated himself, + together with the wife he would have married, and the child he would have + had by her.” + </p> + <p> + “But why,” said Zadig, “is it necessary that there + should be crimes and misfortunes, and that these misfortunes should fall + on the good?” + </p> + <p> + “The wicked,” replied Jesrad, “are always unhappy; they + serve to prove and try the small number of the just that are scattered + through the earth; and there is no evil that is not productive of some + good.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Zadig, “suppose there were nothing but good + and no evil at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” replied Jesrad, “this earth would be another + earth. The chain of events would be ranged in another order and directed + by wisdom; but this other order, which would be perfect, can exist only in + the eternal abode of the Supreme Being, to which no evil can approach. The + Deity hath created millions of worlds among which there is not one that + resembles another. This immense variety is the effect of His immense + power. There are not two leaves among the trees of the earth, nor two + globes in the unlimited expanse of heaven that are exactly similar; and + all that thou seest on the little atom in which thou art born, ought to be + in its proper time and place, according to the immutable decree of Him who + comprehends all. Men think that this child who hath just perished is + fallen into the water by chance; and that it is by the same chance that + this house is burned; but there is no such thing as chance; all is either + a trial, or a punishment, or a reward, or a foresight. Remember the + fisherman who thought himself the most wretched of mankind. Oromazes sent + thee to change his fate. Cease, then, frail mortal, to dispute against + what thou oughtest to adore.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Zadig—as he pronounced the word “But,” + the angel took his flight toward the tenth sphere. Zadig on his knees + adored Providence, and submitted. The angel cried to him from on high, + “Direct thy course toward Babylon.” + </p> + <h3> + THE ENIGMAS + </h3> + <p> + Zadig, entranced, as it were, and like a man about whose head the thunder + had burst, walked at random. He entered Babylon on the very day when those + who had fought at the tournaments were assembled in the grand vestibule of + the palace to explain the enigmas and to answer the questions of the grand + magi. All the knights were already arrived, except the knight in green + armor. As soon as Zadig appeared in the city the people crowded round him; + every eye was fixed on him; every mouth blessed him, and every heart + wished him the empire. The envious man saw him pass; he frowned and turned + aside. The people conducted him to the place where the assembly was held. + The queen, who was informed of his arrival, became a prey to the most + violent agitations of hope and fear. She was filled with anxiety and + apprehension. She could not comprehend why Zadig was without arms, nor why + Itobad wore the white armor. A confused murmur arose at the sight of + Zadig. They were equally surprised and charmed to see him; but none but + the knights who had fought were permitted to appear in the assembly. + </p> + <p> + “I have fought as well as the other knights,” said Zadig, + “but another here wears my arms; and while I wait for the honor of + proving the truth of my assertion, I demand the liberty of presenting + myself to explain the enigmas.” The question was put to the vote, + and his reputation for probity was still so deeply impressed in their + minds, that they admitted him without scruple. + </p> + <p> + The first question proposed by the grand magi was: “What, of all + things in the world, is the longest and the shortest, the swiftest and the + slowest, the most divisible and the most extended the most neglected and + the most regretted, without which nothing can be done, which devours all + that is little, and enlivens all that is great?” + </p> + <p> + Itobad was to speak. He replied that so great a man as he did not + understand enigmas, and that it was sufficient for him to have conquered + by his strength and valor. Some said that the meaning of the enigma was + Fortune; some, the Earth; and others the Light. Zadig said that it was + Time. “Nothing,” added he, “is longer, since it is the + measure of eternity; nothing is shorter, since it is insufficient for the + accomplishment of our projects; nothing more slow to him that expects, + nothing more rapid to him that enjoys; in greatness, it extends to + infinity; in smallness, it is infinitely divisible; all men neglect it; + all regret the loss of it; nothing can be done without it; it consigns to + oblivion whatever is unworthy of being transmitted to posterity, and it + immortalizes such actions as are truly great.” The assembly + acknowledged that Zadig was in the right. + </p> + <p> + The next question was: “What is the thing which we receive without + thanks, which we enjoy without knowing how, which we give to others when + we know not where we are, and which we lose without perceiving it?” + </p> + <p> + Everyone gave his own explanation. Zadig alone guessed that it was Life, + and explained all the other enigmas with the same facility. Itobad always + said that nothing was more easy, and that he could have answered them with + the same readiness had he chosen to have given himself the trouble. + Questions were then proposed on justice, on the sovereign good, and on the + art of government. Zadig’s answers were judged to be the most solid. + “What a pity is it,” said they, “that such a great + genius should be so bad a knight!” + </p> + <p> + “Illustrious lords,” said Zadig, “I have had the honor + of conquering in the tournaments. It is to me that the white armor + belongs. Lord Itobad took possession of it during my sleep. He probably + thought that it would fit him better than the green. I am now ready to + prove in your presence, with my gown and sword, against all that beautiful + white armor which he took from me, that it is I who have had the honor of + conquering the brave Otamus.” + </p> + <p> + Itobad accepted the challenge with the greatest confidence. He never + doubted but that, armed as he was, with a helmet, a cuirass, and + brassarts, he would obtain an easy victory over a champion in a cap and + nightgown. Zadig drew his sword, saluting the queen, who looked at him + with a mixture of fear and joy. Itobad drew his without saluting anyone. + He rushed upon Zadig, like a man who had nothing to fear; he was ready to + cleave him in two. Zadig knew how to ward off his blows, by opposing the + strongest part of his sword to the weakest of that of his adversary, in + such a manner that Itobad’s sword was broken. Upon which Zadig, + seizing his enemy by the waist, threw him on the ground; and firing the + point of his sword at the breastplate, “Suffer thyself to be + disarmed,” said he, “or thou art a dead man.” + </p> + <p> + Itobad, always surprised at the disgraces that happened to such a man as + he, was obliged to yield to Zadig, who took from him with great composure + his magnificent helmet, his superb cuirass, his fine brassarts, his + shining cuishes; clothed himself with them, and in this dress ran to throw + himself at the feet of Astarte. Cador easily proved that the armor + belonged to Zadig. He was acknowledged king by the unanimous consent of + the whole nation, and especially by that of Astarte, who, after so many + calamities, now tasted the exquisite pleasure of seeing her lover worthy, + in the eyes of all the world, to be her husband. Itobad went home to be + called lord in his own house. Zadig was king, and was happy. The queen and + Zadig adored Providence. He sent in search of the robber Arbogad, to whom + he gave an honorable post in his army, promising to advance him to the + first dignities if he behaved like a true warrior, and threatening to hang + him if he followed the profession of a robber. + </p> + <p> + Setoc, with the fair Almona, was called from the heart of Arabia and + placed at the head of the commerce of Babylon. Cador was preferred and + distinguished according to his great services. He was the friend of the + king; and the king was then the only monarch on earth that had a friend. + The little mute was not forgotten. + </p> + <p> + But neither could the beautiful Semira be comforted for having believed + that Zadig would be blind of an eye; nor did Azora cease to lament her + having attempted to cut off his nose. Their griefs, however, he softened + by his presents. The envious man died of rage and shame. The empire + enjoyed peace, glory, and plenty. This was the happiest age of the earth; + it was governed by love and justice. The people blessed Zadig, and Zadig + blessed Heaven. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ABANDONED By Guy De Maupassant + </h2> + <p> + “I really think you must be mad, my dear, to go for a country walk + in such weather as this. You have had some very strange notions for the + last two months. You drag me to the seaside in spite of myself, when you + have never once had such a whim during all the forty-four years that we + have been married. You chose Fécamp, which is a very dull town, without + consulting me in the matter, and now you are seized with such a rage for + walking, you who hardly ever stir out on foot, that you want to take a + country walk on the hottest day of the year. Ask d’Apreval to go + with you, as he is ready to gratify all your whims. As for me, I am going + back to have a nap.” + </p> + <p> + Madame de Cadour turned to her old friend and said: + </p> + <p> + “Will you come with me, Monsieur d’Apreval?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed with a smile, and with all the gallantry of former years: + </p> + <p> + “I will go wherever you go,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, go and get a sunstroke,” Monsieur de Cadour + said; and he went back to the Hôtel des Bains to lie down for an hour or + two. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they were alone, the old lady and her old companion set off, + and she said to him in a low voice, squeezing his hand: + </p> + <p> + “At last! at last!” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad,” he said in a whisper. “I assure you that + you are mad. Think of the risk you are running. If that man—” + </p> + <p> + She started. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Henri, do not say that man, when you are speaking of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he said abruptly, “if our son guesses + anything, if he has any suspicions, he will have you, he will have us both + in his power. You have got on without seeing him for the last forty years. + What is the matter with you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + They had been going up the long street that leads from the sea to the + town, and now they turned to the right, to go to Etretat. The white road + stretched in front of them under a blaze of brilliant sunshine, so they + went on slowly in the burning heat. She had taken her old friend’s + arm, and was looking straight in front of her, with a fixed and haunted + gaze, and at last she said: + </p> + <p> + “And so you have not seen him again, either?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, do not let us begin that discussion again. I have a + wife and children and you have a husband, so we both of us have much to + fear from other people’s opinion.” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply; she was thinking of her long past youth and of many sad + things that had occurred. How well she recalled all the details of their + early friendship, his smiles, the way he used to linger, in order to watch + her until she was indoors. What happy days they were, the only really + delicious days she had ever enjoyed, and how quickly they were over! + </p> + <p> + And then—her discovery—of the penalty she paid! What anguish! + </p> + <p> + Of that journey to the South, that long journey, her sufferings, her + constant terror, that secluded life in the small, solitary house on the + shores of the Mediterranean, at the bottom of a garden, which she did not + venture to leave. How well she remembered those long days which she spent + lying under an orange tree, looking up at the round, red fruit, amid the + green leaves. How she used to long to go out, as far as the sea, whose + fresh breezes came to her over the wall, and whose small waves she could + hear lapping on the beach. She dreamed of its immense blue expanse + sparkling under the sun, with the white sails of the small vessels, and a + mountain on the horizon. But she did not dare to go outside the gate. + Suppose anybody had recognized her! + </p> + <p> + And those days of waiting, those last days of misery and expectation! The + impending suffering, and then that terrible night! What misery she had + endured, and what a night it was! How she had groaned and screamed! She + could still see the pale face of her lover, who kissed her hand every + moment, and the clean-shaven face of the doctor and the nurse’s + white cap. + </p> + <p> + And what she felt when she heard the child’s feeble cries, that + wail, that first effort of a human’s voice! + </p> + <p> + And the next day! the next day! the only day of her life on which she had + seen and kissed her son; for, from that time, she had never even caught a + glimpse of him. + </p> + <p> + And what a long, void existence hers had been since then, with the thought + of that child always, always floating before her. She had never seen her + son, that little creature that had been part of herself, even once since + then; they had taken him from her, carried him away, and had hidden him. + All she knew was that he had been brought up by some peasants in Normandy, + that he had become a peasant himself, had married well, and that his + father, whose name he did not know, had settled a handsome sum of money on + him. + </p> + <p> + How often during the last forty years had she wished to go and see him and + to embrace him! She could not imagine to herself that he had grown! She + always thought of that small human atom which she had held in her arms and + pressed to her bosom for a day. + </p> + <p> + How often she had said to M. d’Apreval: “I cannot bear it any + longer; I must go and see him.” + </p> + <p> + But he had always stopped her and kept her from going. She would be unable + to restrain and to master herself; their son would guess it and take + advantage of her, blackmail her; she would be lost. + </p> + <p> + “What is he like?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. I have not seen him again, either.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible? To have a son and not to know him; to be afraid of + him and to reject him as if he were a disgrace! It is horrible.” + </p> + <p> + They went along the dusty road, overcome by the scorching sun, and + continually ascending that interminable hill. + </p> + <p> + “One might take it for a punishment,” she continued; “I + have never had another child, and I could no longer resist the longing to + see him, which has possessed me for forty years. You men cannot understand + that. You must remember that I shall not live much longer, and suppose I + should never see him, never have seen him! ... Is it possible? How could I + wait so long? I have thought about him every day since, and what a + terrible existence mine has been! I have never awakened, never, do you + understand, without my first thoughts being of him, of my child. How is + he? Oh, how guilty I feel toward him! Ought one to fear what the world may + say in a case like this? I ought to have left everything to go after him, + to bring him up and to show my love for him. I should certainly have been + much happier, but I did not dare, I was a coward. How I have suffered! Oh, + how those poor, abandoned children must hate their mothers!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped suddenly, for she was choked by her sobs. The whole valley was + deserted and silent in the dazzling light and the overwhelming heat, and + only the grasshoppers uttered their shrill, continuous chirp among the + sparse yellow grass on both sides of the road. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down a little,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She allowed herself to be led to the side of the ditch and sank down with + her face in her hands. Her white hair, which hung in curls on both sides + of her face, had become tangled. She wept, overcome by profound grief, + while he stood facing her, uneasy and not knowing what to say, and he + merely murmured: “Come, take courage.” + </p> + <p> + She got up. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” she said, and wiping her eyes, she began to walk + again with the uncertain step of an elderly woman. + </p> + <p> + A little farther on the road passed beneath a clump of trees, which hid a + few houses, and they could distinguish the vibrating and regular blows of + a blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil; and presently they saw a wagon + standing on the right side of the road in front of a low cottage, and two + men shoeing a horse under a shed. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Apreval went up to them. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Pierre Benedict’s farm?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Take the road to the left, close to the inn, and then go straight + on; it is the third house past Poret’s. There is a small spruce fir + close to the gate; you cannot make a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + They turned to the left. She was walking very slowly now, her legs + threatened to give way, and her heart was beating so violently that she + felt as if she should suffocate, while at every step she murmured, as if + in prayer: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Heaven! Heaven!” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Apreval, who was also nervous and rather pale, said to + her somewhat gruffly: + </p> + <p> + “If you cannot manage to control your feelings, you will betray + yourself at once. Do try and restrain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I?” she replied. “My child! When I think that I + am going to see my child.” + </p> + <p> + They were going along one of those narrow country lanes between farmyards, + that are concealed beneath a double row of beech trees at either side of + the ditches, and suddenly they found themselves in front of a gate, beside + which there was a young spruce fir. + </p> + <p> + “This is it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She stopped suddenly and looked about her. The courtyard, which was + planted with apple trees, was large and extended as far as the small + thatched dwelling house. On the opposite side were the stable, the barn, + the cow house and the poultry house, while the gig, the wagon and the + manure cart were under a slated outhouse. Four calves were grazing under + the shade of the trees and black hens were wandering all about the + enclosure. + </p> + <p> + All was perfectly still; the house door was open, but nobody was to be + seen, and so they went in, when immediately a large black dog came out of + a barrel that was standing under a pear tree, and began to bark furiously. + </p> + <p> + There were four bee-hives on boards against the wall of the house. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Apreval stood outside and called out: + </p> + <p> + “Is anybody at home?” + </p> + <p> + Then a child appeared, a little girl of about ten, dressed in a chemise + and a linen petticoat, with dirty, bare legs and a timid and cunning look. + She remained standing in the doorway, as if to prevent any one going in. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Is your father in?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “And your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone after the cows.” + </p> + <p> + “Will she be back soon?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly the lady, as if she feared that her companion might force + her to return, said quickly: + </p> + <p> + “I shall not go without having seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “We will wait for him, my dear friend.” + </p> + <p> + As they turned away, they saw a peasant woman coming toward the house, + carrying two tin pails, which appeared to be heavy and which glistened + brightly in the sunlight. + </p> + <p> + She limped with her right leg, and in her brown knitted jacket, that was + faded by the sun and washed out by the rain, she looked like a poor, + wretched, dirty servant. + </p> + <p> + “Here is mamma.” the child said. + </p> + <p> + When she got close to the house, she looked at the strangers angrily and + suspiciously, and then she went in, as if she had not seen them. She + looked old and had a hard, yellow, wrinkled face, one of those wooden + faces that country people so often have. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Apreval called her back. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, madame, but we came in to know whether you could + sell us two glasses of milk.” + </p> + <p> + She was grumbling when she reappeared in the door, after putting down her + pails. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t sell milk,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “We are very thirsty,” he said, “and madame is very + tired. Can we not get something to drink?” + </p> + <p> + The peasant woman gave them an uneasy and cunning glance and then she made + up her mind. + </p> + <p> + “As you are here, I will give you some,” she said, going into + the house, and almost immediately the child came out and brought two + chairs, which she placed under an apple tree, and then the mother, in turn + brought out two bowls of foaming milk, which she gave to the visitors. She + did not return to the house, however, but remained standing near them, as + if to watch them and to find out for what purpose they had come there. + </p> + <p> + “You have come from Fécamp?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Monsieur d’Apreval replied, “we are staying + at Fécamp for the summer.” + </p> + <p> + And then, after a short silence he continued: + </p> + <p> + “Have you any fowls you could sell us every week?” + </p> + <p> + The woman hesitated for a moment and then replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think I have. I suppose you want young ones?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you pay for them in the market?” + </p> + <p> + D’Apreval, who had not the least idea, turned to his companion: + </p> + <p> + “What are you paying for poultry in Fécamp, my dear lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Four francs and four francs fifty centimes,” she said, her + eyes full of tears, while the farmer’s wife, who was looking at her + askance, asked in much surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Is the lady ill, as she is crying?” + </p> + <p> + He did not know what to say, and replied with some hesitation: + </p> + <p> + “No—no—but she lost her watch as we came along, a very + handsome watch, and that troubles her. If anybody should find it, please + let us know.” + </p> + <p> + Mother Benedict did not reply, as she thought it a very equivocal sort of + answer, but suddenly she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, here is my husband!” + </p> + <p> + She was the only one who had seen him, as she was facing the gate. D’Apreval + started and Madame de Cadour nearly fell as she turned round suddenly on + her chair. + </p> + <p> + A man bent nearly double, and out of breath, stood there, ten yards from + them, dragging a cow at the end of a rope. Without taking any notice of + the visitors, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Confound it! What a brute!” + </p> + <p> + And he went past them and disappeared in the cow house. + </p> + <p> + Her tears had dried quickly as she sat there startled, without a word and + with the one thought in her mind, that this was her son, and D’Apreval, + whom the same thought had struck very unpleasantly, said in an agitated + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Is this Monsieur Benedict?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you his name?” the wife asked, still rather + suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “The blacksmith at the corner of the highroad,” he replied, + and then they were all silent, with their eyes fixed on the door of the + cow house, which formed a sort of black hole in the wall of the building. + Nothing could be seen inside, but they heard a vague noise, movements and + footsteps and the sound of hoofs, which were deadened by the straw on the + floor, and soon the man reappeared in the door, wiping his forehead, and + came toward the house with long, slow strides. He passed the strangers + without seeming to notice them and said to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar and + left the two Parisians alone. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go, let us go, Henri,” Madame de Cadour said, nearly + distracted with grief, and so d’Apreval took her by the arm, helped + her to rise, and sustaining her with all his strength, for he felt that + she was nearly fainting, he led her out, after throwing five francs on one + of the chairs. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they were outside the gate, she began to sob and said, shaking + with grief: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! oh! is that what you have made of him?” + </p> + <p> + He was very pale and replied coldly: + </p> + <p> + “I did what I could. His farm is worth eighty thousand francs, and + that is more than most of the sons of the middle classes have.” + </p> + <p> + They returned slowly, without speaking a word. She was still crying; the + tears ran down her cheeks continually for a time, but by degrees they + stopped, and they went back to Fécamp, where they found Monsieur de Cadour + waiting dinner for them. As soon as he saw them, he began to laugh and + exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “So my wife has had a sunstroke, and I am very glad of it. I really + think she has lost her head for some time past!” + </p> + <p> + Neither of them replied, and when the husband asked them, rubbing his + hands: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope that, at least, you have had a pleasant walk?” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Apreval replied: + </p> + <p> + “A delightful walk, I assure you; perfectly delightful.” + </p> + <h3> + THE GUILTY SECRET BY PAUL DE KOCK + </h3> + <p> + Nathalie De Hauteville was twenty-two years old, and had been a widow for + three years. She was one of the prettiest women in Paris; her large dark + eyes shone with remarkable brilliancy, and she united the sparkling + vivacity of an Italian and the depth of feeling of a Spaniard to the grace + which always distinguishes a Parisian born and bred. Considering herself + too young to be entirely alone, she had long ago invited M. d’Ablaincourt, + an old uncle of hers, to come and live with her. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Ablaincourt was an old bachelor; he had never loved anything in + this world but himself. He was an egotist, too lazy to do any one an ill + turn, but at the same time too selfish to do any one a kindness, unless it + would tend directly to his own advantage. And yet, with an air of + complaisance, as if he desired nothing so much as the comfort of those + around him, he consented to his niece’s proposal, in the hope that + she would do many little kind offices for him, which would add materially + to his comfort. + </p> + <p> + M. d’Ablaincourt accompanied his niece when she resumed her place in + society; but sometimes, when he felt inclined to stay at home, he would + say to her: “My dear Nathalie, I am afraid you will not be much + amused this evening. They will only play cards; besides, I don’t + think any of your friends will be there. Of course, I am ready to take + you, if you wish to go.” + </p> + <p> + And Nathalie, who had great confidence in all her uncle said, would stay + at home. + </p> + <p> + In the same manner, M. d’Ablaincourt, who was a great gourmand, said + to his niece: “My dear, you know that I am not at all fond of + eating, and am satisfied with the simplest fare; but I must tell you that + your cook puts too much salt in everything! It is very unwholesome.” + </p> + <p> + So they changed the cook. + </p> + <p> + Again, the garden was out of order; the trees before the old gentleman’s + window must be cut down, because their shade would doubtless cause a + dampness in the house prejudicial to Nathalie’s health; or the + surrey was to be changed for a landau. + </p> + <p> + Nathalie was a coquette. Accustomed to charm, she listened with smiles to + the numerous protestations of admiration which she received. She sent all + who aspired to her hand to her uncle, saying: “Before I give you any + hope, I must know my uncle’s opinion.” + </p> + <p> + It is likely that Nathalie would have answered differently if she had ever + felt a real preference for any one; but heretofore she seemed to have + preferred her liberty. + </p> + <p> + The old uncle, for his part, being now master in his niece’s house, + was very anxious for her to remain as she was. A nephew might be somewhat + less submissive than Nathalie. Therefore, he never failed to discover some + great fault in each of those who sought an alliance with the pretty widow. + </p> + <p> + Besides his egotism and his epicureanism, the dear uncle had another + passion—to play backgammon. The game amused him very much; but the + difficulty was to find any one to play with. If, by accident, any of + Nathalie’s visitors understood it, there was no escape from a long + siege with the old gentleman; but most people preferred cards. + </p> + <p> + In order to please her uncle, Nathalie tried to learn this game; but it + was almost impossible. She could not give her attention to one thing for + so long a time. Her uncle scolded. Nathalie gave up in despair. + </p> + <p> + “It was only for your own amusement that I wished to teach it to + you,” said the good M. d’Ablaincourt. + </p> + <p> + Things were at this crisis when, at a ball one evening, Nathalie was + introduced to a M. d’Apremont, a captain in the navy. + </p> + <p> + Nathalie raised her eyes, expecting to see a great sailor, with a wooden + leg and a bandage over one eye; when to her great surprise, she beheld a + man of about thirty, tall and finely formed, with two sound legs and two + good eyes. + </p> + <p> + Armand d’Apremont had entered the navy at a very early age, and had + arrived, although very young, to the dignity of a captain. He had amassed + a large fortune, in addition to his patrimonial estates, and he had now + come home to rest after his labors. As yet, however, he was a single man, + and, moreover, had always laughed at love. + </p> + <p> + But when he saw Nathalie, his opinions underwent a change. For the first + time in his life he regretted that he had never learned to dance, and he + kept his eyes fixed on her constantly. + </p> + <p> + His attentions to the young widow soon became a subject of general + conversation, and, at last, the report reached the ears of M. d’Ablaincourt. + When Nathalie mentioned, one evening, that she expected the captain to + spend the evening with her, the old man grew almost angry. + </p> + <p> + “Nathalie,” said he, “you act entirely without + consulting me. I have heard that the captain is very rude and unpolished + in his manners. To be sure, I have only seen him standing behind your + chair; but he has never even asked after my health. I only speak for your + interest, as you are so giddy.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie begged her uncle’s pardon, and even offered not to receive + the captain’s visit; but this he forbore to require—secretly + resolving not to allow these visits to become too frequent. + </p> + <p> + But how frail are all human resolutions—overturned by the merest + trifle! In this case, the game of backgammon was the unconscious cause of + Nathalie’s becoming Mme. d’Apremont. The captain was an + excellent hand at backgammon. When the uncle heard this, he proposed a + game; and the captain, who understood that it was important to gain the + uncle’s favor, readily acceded. + </p> + <p> + This did not please Nathalie. She preferred that he should be occupied + with herself. When all the company were gone, she turned to her uncle, + saying: “You were right, uncle, after all. I do not admire the + captain’s manners; I see now that I should not have invited him.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, niece, he is a very well-behaved man. I have + invited him to come here very often, and play backgammon with me—that + is, to pay his addresses to you.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie saw that the captain had gained her uncle’s heart, and she + forgave him for having been less attentive to her. He soon came again, + and, thanks to the backgammon, increased in favor with the uncle. + </p> + <p> + He soon captivated the heart of the pretty widow, also. One morning, + Nathalie came blushing to her uncle. + </p> + <p> + “The captain has asked me to marry him. What do you advise me to do?” + </p> + <p> + He reflected for a few moments. “If she refuses him, D’Apremont + will come here no longer, and then no more backgammon. But if she marries + him, he will be here always, and I shall have my games.” And the + answer was: “You had better marry him.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie loved Armand; but she would not yield too easily. She sent for + the captain. + </p> + <p> + “If you really love me—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, can you doubt it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! do not interrupt me. If you really love me, you will give me + one proof of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything you ask. I swear—” + </p> + <p> + “No, you must never swear any more; and, one thing more, you must + never smoke. I detest the smell of tobacco, and I will not have a husband + who smokes.” + </p> + <p> + Armand sighed, and promised. + </p> + <p> + The first months of their marriage passed smoothly, but sometimes Armand + became thoughtful, restless, and grave. After some time, these fits of + sadness became more frequent. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” asked Nathalie one day, on seeing him + stamp with impatience. “Why are you so irritable?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—nothing at all!” replied the captain, as if + ashamed of his ill humor. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” Nathalie insisted, “have I displeased you in + anything?” + </p> + <p> + The captain assured her that he had no reason to be anything but delighted + with her conduct on all occasions, and for a time he was all right. Then + soon he was worse than before. + </p> + <p> + Nathalie was distressed beyond measure. She imparted her anxiety to her + uncle, who replied: “Yes, my dear, I know what you mean; I have + often remarked it myself, at backgammon. He is very inattentive, and often + passes his hand over his forehead, and starts up as if something agitated + him.” + </p> + <p> + And one day, when his old habits of impatience and irritability + reappeared, more marked than ever, the captain said to his wife: “My + dear, an evening walk will do me a world of good; an old sailor like + myself cannot bear to sit around the house after dinner. Nevertheless, if + you have any objection—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! What objection can I have?” + </p> + <p> + He went out, and continued to do so, day after day, at the same hour. + Invariably he returned in the best of good humor. + </p> + <p> + Nathalie was now unhappy indeed. “He loves some other woman, + perhaps,” she thought, “and he must see her every day. Oh, how + wretched I am! But I must let him know that his perfidy is discovered. No, + I will wait until I shall have some certain proof wherewith to confront + him.” + </p> + <p> + And she went to seek her uncle. “Ah, I am the most unhappy creature + in the world!” she sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” cried the old man, leaning back in his + armchair. + </p> + <p> + “Armand leaves the house for two hours every evening, after dinner, + and comes back in high spirits and as anxious to please me as on the day + of our marriage. Oh, uncle, I cannot bear it any longer! If you do not + assist me to discover where he goes, I will seek a separation.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear niece—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear uncle, you who are so good and obliging, grant me this one + favor. I am sure there is some woman in the secret.” + </p> + <p> + M. d’Ablaincourt wished to prevent a rupture between his niece and + nephew, which would interfere very much with the quiet, peaceable life + which he led at their house. He pretended to follow Armand; but came back + very soon, saying he had lost sight of him. + </p> + <p> + “But in what direction does he go?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes one way, and sometimes another, but always alone; so your + suspicions are unfounded. Be assured, he only walks for exercise.” + </p> + <p> + But Nathalie was not to be duped in this way. She sent for a little errand + boy, of whose intelligence she had heard a great deal. + </p> + <p> + “M. d’Apremont goes out every evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, you will follow him; observe where he goes, and come and + tell me privately. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie waited impatiently for the next day, and for the hour of her + husband’s departure. At last, the time came—the pursuit is + going on—Nathalie counted the moments. After three-quarters of an + hour, the messenger arrived, covered with dust. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” exclaimed Nathalie, “speak! Tell me everything + that you have seen!” + </p> + <p> + “Madame, I followed M. d’Apremont, at a distance, as far as + the Rue Vieille du Temple, where he entered a small house, in an alley. + There was no servant to let him in.” + </p> + <p> + “An alley! No servant! Dreadful!” + </p> + <p> + “I went in directly after him, and heard him go up-stairs and unlock + a door.” + </p> + <p> + “Open the door himself, without knocking! Are you sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame.” + </p> + <p> + “The wretch! So he has a key! But, go on.” + </p> + <p> + “When the door shut after him, I stole softly up-stairs, and peeped + through the keyhole.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have twenty francs more.” + </p> + <p> + “I peeped through the keyhole, and saw him drag a trunk along the + floor.” + </p> + <p> + “A trunk?” + </p> + <p> + “Then he undressed himself, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Undressed himself!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, for a few seconds, I could not see him, and directly he + appeared again, in a sort of gray blouse, and a cap on his Lead.” + </p> + <p> + “A blouse! What in the world does he want with a blouse? What next?” + </p> + <p> + “I came away, then, madame, and made haste to tell you; but he is + there still.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, now run to the corner and get me a cab, and direct the + coachman to the house where you have been.” + </p> + <p> + While the messenger went for the cab, Nathalie hurried on her hat and + cloak, and ran into her uncle’s room. + </p> + <p> + “I have found him out—he loves another. He’s at her + house now, in a gray blouse. But I will go and confront him, and then you + will see me no more.” + </p> + <p> + The old man had no time to reply. She was gone, with her messenger, in the + cab. They stopped at last. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the house.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie got out, pale and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go up-stairs with you, madame?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “No, I will go alone. The third story, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame; the left-hand door, at the head of the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed that now, indeed, the end of all things was at hand. + </p> + <p> + Nathalie mounted the dark, narrow stairs, and arrived at the door, and, + almost fainting, she cried: “Open the door, or I shall die!” + </p> + <p> + The door was opened, and Nathalie fell into her husband’s arms. He + was alone in the room, clad in a gray blouse, and—smoking a Turkish + pipe. + </p> + <p> + “My wife!” exclaimed Armand, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Your wife—who, suspecting your perfidy, has followed you, to + discover the cause of your mysterious conduct!” + </p> + <p> + “How, Nathalie, my mysterious conduct? Look, here it is!” + (Showing his pipe.) “Before our marriage, you forbade me to smoke, + and I promised to obey you. For some months I kept my promise; but you + know what it cost me; you remember how irritable and sad I became. It was + my pipe, my beloved pipe, that I regretted. One day, in the country, I + discovered a little cottage, where a peasant was smoking. I asked him if + he could lend me a blouse and cap; for I should like to smoke with him, + but it was necessary to conceal it from you, as the smell of smoke, + remaining in my clothes, would have betrayed me. It was soon settled + between us. I returned thither every afternoon, to indulge in my favorite + occupation; and, with the precaution of a cap to keep the smoke from + remaining in my hair, I contrived to deceive you. This is all the mystery. + Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + Nathalie kissed him, crying: “I might have known it could not be! I + am happy now, and you shall smoke as much as you please, at home.” + </p> + <p> + And Nathalie returned to her uncle, saying: “Uncle, he loves me! He + was only smoking, but hereafter he is to smoke at home.” + </p> + <p> + “I can arrange it all,” said D’Ablaincourt; “he + shall smoke while he plays backgammon.” + </p> + <p> + “In that way,” thought the old man, “I shall be sure of + my game.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JEAN MONETTE By Eugene Francois Vidocq + </h2> + <p> + At the time when I first became commissary of police, my arrondissement + was in that part of Paris which includes the Rue St. Antoine—a + street which has a great number of courts, alleys, and culs-de-sac issuing + from it in all directions. The houses in these alleys and courts are, for + the most part, inhabited by wretches wavering betwixt the last shade of + poverty and actual starvation, ready to take part in any disturbance, or + assist in any act of rapine or violence. + </p> + <p> + In one of these alleys, there lived at that time a man named Jean Monette, + who was tolerably well stricken in years, but still a hearty man. He was a + widower, and, with an only daughter, occupied a floor, au quatrième, in + one of the courts; people said he had been in business and grown rich, but + that he had not the heart to spend his money, which year after year + accumulated, and would make a splendid fortune for his daughter at his + death. With this advantage, Emma, who was really a handsome girl, did not + want for suitors, and thought that, being an heiress, she might wait till + she really felt a reciprocal passion for some one, and not throw herself + away upon the first tolerable match that presented itself. It was on a + Sunday, the first in the month of June, that Emma had, as an especial + treat, obtained sufficient money from her father for an excursion with + some friends to see the fountains of Versailles. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful day, and the basin was thronged around with thousands + and thousands of persons, looking, from the variety of their dresses, more + like the colors of a splendid rainbow than aught besides; and when, at + four o’clock, Triton and his satellites threw up their immense + volumes of water, all was wonder, astonishment, and delight; but none were + more delighted than Emma, to whom the scene was quite new. + </p> + <p> + And, then, it was so pleasant to have found a gentleman who could explain + everything and everybody; point out the duke of this, and the count that, + and the other lions of Paris; besides, such an agreeable and well-dressed + man; it was really quite condescending in him to notice them! And then, + toward evening, he would insist they should all go home together in a + fiacre, and that he alone should pay all the expenses, and when, with a + gentle pressure of the hand and a low whisper, he begged her to say where + he might come and throw himself at her feet, she thought her feelings were + different to what they had ever been before. But how could she give her + address—tell so dashing a man that she lived in such a place? No, + she could not do that, but she would meet him at the Jardin d’Eté + next Sunday evening, and dance with no one else all night. + </p> + <p> + She met him on the Sunday, and again and again, until her father began to + suspect, from her frequent absence of an evening—which was formerly + an unusual circumstance with her—that something must be wrong. The + old man loved his money, but he loved his daughter more. She was the only + link in life that kept together the chain of his affections. He had been + passionately fond of his wife, and when she died, Emma had filled up the + void in his heart. They were all, save his money, that he had ever loved. + The world had cried out against him as a hard-hearted, rapacious man, and + he, in return, despised the world. + </p> + <p> + He was, therefore, much grieved at her conduct, and questioned Emma as to + where her frequent visits led her, but could only obtain for answer that + she was not aware she had been absent so much as to give him uneasiness. + This was unsatisfactory, and so confirmed the old man in his suspicions + that he determined to have his daughter watched. + </p> + <p> + This he effected through the means of an ancien ami, then in the + profession of what he called an “inspector,” though his + enemies (and all men have such) called him a mouchard, or spy. However, by + whatever name he called himself, or others called him, he understood his + business, and so effectually watched the young lady that he discovered her + frequent absences to be for the purpose of meeting a man who, after + walking some distance with her, managed, despite the inspector’s + boasted abilities, to give him the slip. + </p> + <p> + This naturally puzzled him, and so it would any man in his situation. + Fancy the feelings of one of the government’s employees in the argus + line of business, a man renowned for his success in almost all the arduous + and intricate affairs that had been committed to his care, to find himself + baffled in a paltry private intrigue, and one which he had merely + undertaken for the sake of friendship! + </p> + <p> + For a second time, he tried the plan of fancying himself to be well paid, + thinking this would stimulate his dormant energies, knowing well that a + thing done for friendship’s sake is always badly done; but even here + he failed. He watched them to a certain corner, but, before he could get + around it, they were nowhere to be seen. This was not to be borne. It was + setting him at defiance. Should he call in the assistance of a brother in + the line? No, that would be to acknowledge himself beaten, and the + disgrace he could not bear—his honor was concerned, and he would + achieve it single handed; but, then, it was very perplexing. + </p> + <p> + The man, to his experienced eye, seemed not, as he had done to Emma, a + dashing gentleman, but more like a foul bird in fine feathers. Something + must be wrong, and he must find it out—but, then, again came that + confounded question, how? + </p> + <p> + He would go and consult old Monette—he could, perhaps, suggest + something; and, musing on the strangeness of the adventure, he walked + slowly toward the house of the old man to hold a council with him on the + situation. + </p> + <p> + On the road, his attention was attracted by a disturbance in the street, + and mingling with the crowd, in hope of seizing some of his enemies + exercising their illegal functions on whom the whole weight of his + official vengeance might fall, he for the time forgot his adventure. The + crowd had been drawn together by a difference of opinion between two + gentlemen of the vehicular profession, respecting some right of way, and, + after all the usual expressions of esteem common on such occasions had + been exhausted, one of them drove off, leaving the other at least master + of the field, if he had not got the expected job. + </p> + <p> + The crowd began to disperse, and with them also was going our friend, the + detective, when, on turning round, he came in contact with Mlle. Monette, + leaning on the arm of her mysterious lover. The light from a lamp above + his head shone immediately on the face of Emma and her admirer, showing + them both as clear as noonday, so that when his glance turned from the + lady to the gentleman, and he obtained a full view of his face, he + expressed his joy at the discovery by a loud “Whew!” which, + though a short sound and soon pronounced, meant a great deal. + </p> + <p> + For first, it meant that he had made a great discovery; secondly, that he + was not now astonished because he had not succeeded before in his + watchfulness; thirdly—but perhaps the two mentioned may be + sufficient; for, turning sharply round, he made the greatest haste to + reach Monette and inform him, this time, of the result of his espionage. + </p> + <p> + After a long prelude, stating how fortunate Monette was to have such a + friend as himself, a man who knew everybody and everything, he proceeded + to inform him of the pleasing intelligence that his daughter was in the + habit of meeting, and going to some place (he forgot to say where) with + the most desperate and abandoned character in Paris—one who was so + extremely dexterous in all his schemes that the police, though perfectly + aware of his intentions, had not been able to fix upon him the commission + of any one of his criminal acts, for he changed his appearance so often as + to set at naught all the assiduous exertions of the Corps des Espions. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy father received from his friend at parting the assurance that + they would catch him yet, and give him an invitation to pass the rest of + his days in the seclusion of a prison. + </p> + <p> + On Emma’s return, he told her the information he had received, + wisely withholding the means from which his knowledge came, saying that he + knew she had that moment parted from a man who would lead her to the brink + of destruction, and then cast her off like a child’s broken + play-thing. He begged, nay, he besought her, with tears in his eyes, to + promise she would never again see him. Emma was thunderstruck, not only at + the accuracy of her father’s information, but at hearing such a + character of one whom she had painted as perfection’s self; and, + calling to her aid those never-failing woman’s arguments, a copious + flood of tears, fell on her father’s neck and promised never again + to see her admirer and, if possible, to banish all thoughts of him from + her mind. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said the old man, “I believe you from my + heart—I believe you. I love you, but the world says I am rich—why, + I know not. You know I live in a dangerous neighborhood, and all my care + will be necessary to prevent my losing either my child or my reputed + wealth; therefore, to avoid all accidents, I will take care you do not + leave this house for the next six months to come, and in that time your + lover will have forgotten you, or what will amount to the same thing, you + will have forgotten him; but I am much mistaken if the man’s + intentions are not to rob me of my money, rather than my child.” + </p> + <p> + The old man kept his word, and Emma was not allowed for several days to + leave the rooms on the fourth floor. + </p> + <p> + She tried, during the time, if it were possible to forget the object of + her affections, and thought if she could but see him once more, to bid him + a long and last farewell, she might in time wear out his remembrance from + her heart; but in order to do that, she must see him once more; and having + made up her mind that this interview would be an essential requisite to + the desired end, she took counsel with herself how it was to be + accomplished. There was only one great obstacle presenting itself to her + view, which was that “she couldn’t get out.” + </p> + <p> + Now women’s invention never fails them, when they have set their + hearts upon any desired object; and it occurred to her, that although she + could not get out, yet it was not quite so apparent that he could not get + in; and this point being settled, it was no very difficult matter to + persuade the old woman who occasionally assisted her in the household + arrangements, to be the bearer of a short note, purporting to say that her + father having been unwell for the last few days, usually retired early to + rest, and that if her dear Despreau would come about eleven o’clock + on the following evening, her father would be asleep, and she would be on + the watch for a signal, which was to be three gentle taps on the door. + </p> + <p> + The old woman executed her commission so well that she brought back an + answer vowing eternal fidelity, and promising a punctual attendance at the + rendezvous. Nor was it likely that he meant to fail—seeing it was + the object he had had for months in view, and he reasoned with himself + that if he once got there, he would make such good use of his time as to + render a second visit perfectly unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + Therefore it would be a pity to disappoint any one, and he immediately + communicated his plans to two of his confederates, promising them a good + share of the booty, and also the girl herself, if either of them felt that + way inclined, as a reward for their assistance. + </p> + <p> + His plans were very well managed, and would have gone on exceedingly well, + but for one small accident which happened through the officious + interference of the inspector, who, the moment he had discovered who the + Lothario was, had taken all the steps he could to catch him, and gain the + honor of having caught so accomplished a gentleman. He rightly judged that + it would not be long before he would pay a visit to Monette’s rooms, + and the letters, before their delivery by the old woman, had been read by + him, and met with his full approbation. + </p> + <p> + I was much pleased on being informed by the inspector that he wanted my + assistance, one evening, to apprehend the celebrated Despreau, who had + planned a robbery near the Rue St. Antoine, and make me acquainted with + nearly all the circumstances. So, about half past ten o’clock, I + posted myself with the inspector and four men where I could see Despreau + pass, and at eleven o’clock, punctual to the moment, he and his two + associates began to ascend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + The two confederates were to wait some time, when he was to come to the + door on some pretext and let them in. + </p> + <p> + After the lapse of half an hour they were let in, when we ascended after + them, and the inspector, having a duplicate key, we let ourselves gently + in, standing in the passage, so as to prevent our being seen; in a few + minutes we heard a loud shriek from Emma, and old Monette’s voice + most vociferously crying “Murder!” and “Thieves!” + On entering the rooms, we perceived that the poor girl was lying on the + ground, while one of the men was endeavoring to stifle her cries by either + gagging or suffocating her, though in the way he was doing it, the latter + would have soon been the case. + </p> + <p> + The old man had been dragged from his bed, and Despreau stood over him + with a knife, swearing that unless he showed him the place where his money + and valuables were deposited, it should be the last hour of his existence. + </p> + <p> + Despreau, on seeing us, seemed inclined to make a most desperate + resistance, but not being seconded by his associates, submitted to be + pinioned, expressing his regret that we had not come half an hour later, + when we might have been saved the trouble. + </p> + <p> + Despreau was shortly after tried for the offense, which was too clearly + proved to admit of any doubt. He was sentenced to the galleys for life, + and is now at Brest, undergoing his sentence. Emma, soon afterward, + married a respectable man, and old Monette behaved on the occasion much + more liberally than was expected. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SOLANGE—DR. LEDRU’S STORY OF THE REIGN OF TERROR By Alexandre + Dumas + </h2> + <p> + Leaving l’Abbaye, I walked straight across the Place Turenne to the + Rue Tournon, where I had lodgings, when I heard a woman scream for help. + </p> + <p> + It could not be an assault to commit robbery, for it was hardly ten o’clock + in the evening. I ran to the corner of the place whence the sounds + proceeded, and by the light of the moon, just then breaking through the + clouds, I beheld a woman in the midst of a patrol of sans-culottes. + </p> + <p> + The lady observed me at the same instant, and seeing, by the character of + my dress, that I did not belong to the common order of people, she ran + toward me, exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “There is M. Albert! He knows me! He will tell you that I am the + daughter of Mme. Ledieu, the laundress.” + </p> + <p> + With these words the poor creature, pale and trembling with excitement, + seized my arm and clung to me as a shipwrecked sailor to a spar. + </p> + <p> + “No matter whether you are the daughter of Mme. Ledieu or some one + else, as you have no pass, you must go with us to the guard-house.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl pressed my arm. I perceived in this pressure the expression + of her great distress of mind. I understood it. + </p> + <p> + “So it is you, my poor Solange?” I said. “What are you + doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “There, messieurs!” she exclaimed in tones of deep anxiety; + “do you believe me now?” + </p> + <p> + “You might at least say ‘citizens!’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sergeant, do not blame me for speaking that way,” said + the pretty young girl; “my mother has many customers among the great + people, and taught me to be polite. That’s how I acquired this bad + habit—the habit of the aristocrats; and, you know, sergeant, it’s + so hard to shake off old habits!” + </p> + <p> + This answer, delivered in trembling accents, concealed a delicate irony + that was lost on all save me. I asked myself, who is this young woman? The + mystery seemed complete. This alone was clear; she was not the daughter of + a laundress. + </p> + <p> + “How did I come here, Citizen Albert?” she asked. “Well, + I will tell you. I went to deliver some washing. The lady was not at home, + and so I waited; for in these hard times every one needs what little money + is coming to him. In that way it grew dark, and so I fell among these + gentlemen—beg pardon, I would say citizens. They asked for my pass. + As I did not have it with me, they were going to take me to the + guard-house. I cried out in terror, which brought you to the scene; and as + luck would have it, you are a friend. I said to myself, as M. Albert knows + my name to be Solange Ledieu, he will vouch for me; and that you will, + will you not, M. Albert?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I will vouch for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the leader of the patrol; “and who, + pray, will vouch for you, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Danton! Do you know him? Is he a good patriot?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if Danton will vouch for you, I have nothing to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there is a session of the Cordeliers to-day. Let us go there.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said the leader. “Citizens, let us go to the + Cordeliers.” + </p> + <p> + The club of the Cordeliers met at the old Cordelier monastery in the Rue l’Observance. + We arrived there after scarce a minute’s walk. At the door I tore a + page from my note-book, wrote a few words upon it with a lead pencil, gave + it to the sergeant, and requested him to hand it to Danton, while I waited + outside with the men. + </p> + <p> + The sergeant entered the clubhouse and returned with Danton. + </p> + <p> + “What!” said he to me; “they have arrested you, my + friend? You, the friend of Camilles—you, one of the most loyal + republicans? Citizens,” he continued, addressing the sergeant, + “I vouch for him. Is that sufficient?” + </p> + <p> + “You vouch for him. Do you also vouch for her?” asked the + stubborn sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “For her? To whom do you refer?” + </p> + <p> + “This girl.” + </p> + <p> + “For everything; for everybody who may be in his company. Does that + satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the man; “especially since I have had the + privilege of seeing you.” + </p> + <p> + With a cheer for Danton, the patrol marched away. I was about to thank + Danton, when his name was called repeatedly within. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my friend,” he said; “you hear? There is my + hand; I must leave you—the left. I gave my right to the sergeant. + Who knows, the good patriot may have scrofula?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m coming!” he exclaimed, addressing those within in + his mighty voice with which he could pacify or arouse the masses. He + hastened into the house. + </p> + <p> + I remained standing at the door, alone with my unknown. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my lady,” I said, “whither would you have me + escort you? I am at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to Mme. Ledieu,” she said with a laugh. “I told + you she was my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “And where does Mme. Ledieu reside?” + </p> + <p> + “Rue Ferou, 24.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, let us proceed to Rue Ferou, 24.” + </p> + <p> + On the way neither of us spoke a word. But by the light of the moon, + enthroned in serene glory in the sky, I was able to observe her at my + leisure. She was a charming girl of twenty or twenty-two—brunette, + with large blue eyes, more expressive of intelligence than melancholy—a + finely chiseled nose, mocking lips, teeth of pearl, hands like a queen’s, + and feet like a child’s; and all these, in spite of her costume of a + laundress, betokened an aristocratic air that had aroused the sergeant’s + suspicions not without justice. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the door of the house, we looked at each other a moment in + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear M. Albert, what do you wish?” my fair unknown + asked with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I was about to say, my dear Mlle. Solange, that it was hardly worth + while to meet if we are to part so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg ten thousand pardons! I find it was well worth the while; + for if I had not met you, I should have been dragged to the guard-house, + and there it would have been discovered that I am not the daughter of Mme. + Ledieu—in fact, it would have developed that I am an aristocrat, and + in all likelihood they would have cut off my head.” + </p> + <p> + “You admit, then, that you are an aristocrat?” + </p> + <p> + “I admit nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “At least you might tell me your name.” + </p> + <p> + “Solange.” + </p> + <p> + “I know very well that this name, which I gave you on the + inspiration of the moment, is not your right name.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter; I like it, and I am going to keep it—at least for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you keep it for me? if we are not to meet again?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say that. I only said that if we should meet again it + will not be necessary for you to know my name any more than that I should + know yours. To me you will be known as Albert, and to you I shall always + be Solange.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it, then; but I say, Solange,” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I am listening, Albert,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “You are an aristocrat—that you admit.” + </p> + <p> + “If I did not admit it, you would surmise it, and so my admission + would be divested of half its merit.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were pursued because you were suspected of being an + aristocrat?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are hiding to escape persecution?” + </p> + <p> + “In the Rue Ferou, No. 24, with Mme. Ledieu, whose husband was my + father’s coachman. You see, I have no secret from you.” + </p> + <p> + “And your father?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall make no concealment, my dear Albert, of anything that + relates to me. But my fathers secrets are not my own. My father is in + hiding, hoping to make his escape. That is all I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go with my father, if that be possible. If not, allow him to depart + without me until the opportunity offers itself to me to join him.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you coming from your father when the guard arrested you + to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, dearest Solange.” + </p> + <p> + “I am all attention.” + </p> + <p> + “You observed all that took place to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I saw that you had powerful influence.” + </p> + <p> + “I regret my power is not very great. However, I have friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I made the acquaintance of one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “And you know he is not one of the least powerful men of the times.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you intend to enlist his influence to enable my father to + escape?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I reserve him for you.” + </p> + <p> + “But my father?” + </p> + <p> + “I have other ways of helping your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Other ways?” exclaimed Solange, seizing my hands and studying + me with an anxious expression. + </p> + <p> + “If I serve your father, will you then sometimes think kindly of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall all my life hold you in grateful remembrance!” + </p> + <p> + She uttered these words with an enchanting expression of devotion. Then + she looked at me beseechingly and said: + </p> + <p> + “But will that satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I was not mistaken. You are kind, generous. I thank you for my + father and myself. Even if you should fail, I shall be grateful for what + you have already done!” + </p> + <p> + “When shall we meet again, Solange?” + </p> + <p> + “When do you think it necessary to see me again?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, when I hope to have good news for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Here.” + </p> + <p> + “Here in the street?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, mon Dieu!” she exclaimed. “You see, it is the + safest place. For thirty minutes, while we have been talking here, not a + soul has passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why may I not go to you, or you come to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it would compromise the good people if you should come to + me, and you would incur serious risk if I should go to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I would give you the pass of one of my relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “And send your relative to the guillotine if I should be + accidentally arrested!” + </p> + <p> + “True. I will bring you a pass made out in the name of Solange.” + </p> + <p> + “Charming! You observe Solange is my real name.” + </p> + <p> + “And the hour?” + </p> + <p> + “The same at which we met to-night—ten o’clock, if you + please.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; ten o’clock. And how shall we meet?” + </p> + <p> + “That is very simple. Be at the door at five minutes of ten, and at + ten I will come down.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, at ten to-morrow, dear Solange.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow at ten, dear Albert.” + </p> + <p> + I wanted to kiss her hand; she offered me her brow. + </p> + <p> + The next day I was in the street at half past nine. At a quarter of ten + Solange opened the door. We were both ahead of time. + </p> + <p> + With one leap I was by her side. + </p> + <p> + “I see you have good news,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! First, here is a pass for you.” + </p> + <p> + “First my father!” + </p> + <p> + She repelled my hand. + </p> + <p> + “Your father is saved, if he wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wishes, you say? What is required of him?” + </p> + <p> + “He must trust me.” + </p> + <p> + “That is assured.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You have discussed the situation with him?” + </p> + <p> + “It was unavoidable. Heaven will help us.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell your father all?” + </p> + <p> + “I told him you had saved my life yesterday, and that you would + perhaps save his to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! Yes, quite right; to-morrow I shall save his life, if it + is his will.” + </p> + <p> + “How? What? Speak! Speak! If that were possible, how fortunately all + things have come to pass!” + </p> + <p> + “However—” I began hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “It will be impossible for you to accompany him.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I was resolute.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite confident, however, that I shall be able later to + procure a passport for you.” + </p> + <p> + “First tell me about my father; my own distress is less important.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I told you I had friends, did I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “To-day I sought out one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “A man whose name is familiar to you; whose name is a guarantee of + courage and honor.” + </p> + <p> + “And this man is?” + </p> + <p> + “Marceau.” + </p> + <p> + “General Marceau?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “True, he will keep a promise.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! How happy you make me! What has he promised? Tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + “He has promised to help us.” + </p> + <p> + “In what manner?” + </p> + <p> + “In a very simple manner. Kléber has just had him promoted to the + command of the western army. He departs to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night! We shall have no time to make the smallest + preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no preparations to make.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “He will take your father with him.” + </p> + <p> + “My father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as his secretary. Arrived in the Vendée, your father will + pledge his word to the general to undertake nothing against France. From + there he will escape to Brittany, and from Brittany to England. When he + arrives in London, he will inform you; I shall obtain a passport for you, + and you will join him in London.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” exclaimed Solange; “my father departs + tomorrow!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no time to waste.” + </p> + <p> + “My father has not been informed.” + </p> + <p> + “Inform him.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But how, at this hour?” + </p> + <p> + “You have a pass and my arm.” + </p> + <p> + “True. My pass.” + </p> + <p> + I gave it to her. She thrust it into her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Now? your arm?” + </p> + <p> + I gave her my arm, and we walked away. When we arrived at the Place + Turenne—that is, the spot where we had met the night before—she + said: “Await me here.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed and waited. + </p> + <p> + She disappeared around the corner of what was formerly the Hôtel Malignon. + After a lapse of fifteen minutes she returned. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, “my father wishes to receive and thank + you.” + </p> + <p> + She took my arm and led me up to the Rue St. Guillaume, opposite the Hôtel + Mortemart. Arrived here, she took a bunch of keys from her pocket, opened + a small, concealed door, took me by the hand, conducted me up two flights + of steps, and knocked in a peculiar manner. + </p> + <p> + A man of forty-eight or fifty years opened the door. He was dressed as a + working man and appeared to be a bookbinder. But at the first utterance + that burst from his lips, the evidence of the seigneur was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said, “Providence has sent you to us. I + regard you an emissary of fate. Is it true that you can save me, or, what + is more, that you wish to save me?” + </p> + <p> + I admitted him completely to my confidence. I informed him that Marceau + would take him as his secretary, and would exact no promise other than + that he would not take up arms against France. + </p> + <p> + “I cheerfully promise it now, and will repeat it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you in his name as well as in my own.” + </p> + <p> + “But when does Marceau depart?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go to him to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you please; he expects you.” + </p> + <p> + Father and daughter looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “I think it would be wise to go this very night,” said + Solange. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready; but if I should be arrested, seeing that I have no + permit?” + </p> + <p> + “Here is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “But you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am known.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does Marceau reside?” + </p> + <p> + “Rue de l’Université, 40, with his sister, Mlle. + Dégraviers-Marceau.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you accompany me?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall follow you at a distance, to accompany mademoiselle home + when you are gone.” + </p> + <p> + “How will Marceau know that I am the man of whom you spoke to him?” + </p> + <p> + “You will hand him this tri-colored cockade; that is the sign of + identification.” + </p> + <p> + “And how shall I reward my liberator?” + </p> + <p> + “By allowing him to save your daughter also.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + He put on his hat and extinguished the lights, and we descended by the + gleam of the moon which penetrated the stair-windows. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the steps he took his daughter’s arm, and by way of + the Rue des Saints Pères we reached Rue de l’Université. I followed + them at a distance of ten paces. We arrived at No. 40 without having met + any one. I rejoined them there. + </p> + <p> + “That is a good omen,” I said; “do you wish me to go up + with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Do not compromise yourself any further. Await my daughter here.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed. + </p> + <p> + “And now, once more, thanks and farewell,” he said, giving me + his hand. “Language has no words to express my gratitude. I pray + that heaven may some day grant me the opportunity of giving fuller + expression to my feelings.” + </p> + <p> + I answered him with a pressure of the hand. + </p> + <p> + He entered the house. Solange followed him; but she, too, pressed my hand + before she entered. + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes the door was reopened. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend,” she said, “is worthy of his name; he is + as kind and considerate as yourself. He knows that it will contribute to + my happiness to remain with my father until the moment of departure. His + sister has ordered a bed placed in her room. To-morrow at three o’clock + my father will be out of danger. To-morrow evening at ten I shall expect + you in the Rue Ferou, if the gratitude of a daughter who owes her father’s + life to you is worth the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be sure I shall come. Did your father charge you with any + message for me?” + </p> + <p> + “He thanks you for your pass, which he returns to you, and begs you + to join him as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever it may be your desire to go,” I said, with a strange + sensation at my heart. + </p> + <p> + “At least, I must know where I am to join him,” she said. + “Ah, you are not yet rid of me!” + </p> + <p> + I seized her hand and pressed it against my heart, but she offered me her + brow, as on the previous evening, and said: “Until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + I kissed her on the brow; but now I no longer strained her hand against my + breast, but her heaving bosom, her throbbing heart. + </p> + <p> + I went home in a state of delirious ecstasy such as I had never + experienced. Was it the consciousness of a generous action, or was it love + for this adorable creature? I know not whether I slept or woke. I only + know that all the harmonies of nature were singing within me; that the + night seemed endless, and the day eternal; I know that though I wished to + speed the time, I did not wish to lose a moment of the days still to come. + </p> + <p> + The next day I was in the Rue Ferou at nine o’clock. At half-past + nine Solange made her appearance. + </p> + <p> + She approached me and threw her arms around my neck. + </p> + <p> + “Saved!” she said; “my father is saved! And this I owe + you. Oh, how I love you!” + </p> + <p> + Two weeks later Solange received a letter announcing her father’s + safe arrival in England. + </p> + <p> + The next day I brought her a passport. + </p> + <p> + When Solange received it she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “You do not love me!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I love you better than my life,” I replied; “but I + pledged your father my word, and I must keep it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, I will break mine,” she said. “Yes, Albert; if + you have the heart to let me go, I have not the courage to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + Alas, she remained! + </p> + <p> + Three months had passed since that night on which we talked of her escape, + and in all that time not a word of parting had passed her lips. + </p> + <p> + Solange had taken lodgings in the Rue Turenne. I had rented them in her + name. I knew no other, while she always addressed me as Albert. I had + found her a place as teacher in a young ladies’ seminary solely to + withdraw her from the espionage of the revolutionary police, which had + become more scrutinizing than ever. + </p> + <p> + Sundays we passed together in the small dwelling, from the bedroom of + which we could see the spot where we had first met. We exchanged letters + daily, she writing to me under the name of Solange, and I to her under + that of Albert. + </p> + <p> + Those three months were the happiest of my life. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime I was making some interesting experiments suggested by one + of the guillotiniers. I had obtained permission to make certain scientific + tests with the bodies and heads of those who perished on the scaffold. Sad + to say, available subjects were not wanting. Not a day passed but thirty + or forty persons were guillotined, and blood flowed so copiously on the + Place de la Révolution that it became necessary to dig a trench three feet + deep around the scaffolding. This trench was covered with deals. One of + them loosened under the feet of an eight-year-old lad, who fell into the + abominable pit and was drowned. + </p> + <p> + For self-evident reasons I said nothing to Solange of the studies that + occupied my attention during the day. In the beginning my occupation had + inspired me with pity and loathing, but as time wore on I said: “These + studies are for the good of humanity,” for I hoped to convince the + lawmakers of the wisdom of abolishing capital punishment. + </p> + <p> + The Cemetery of Clamart had been assigned to me, and all the heads and + trunks of the victims of the executioner had been placed at my disposal. A + small chapel in one corner of the cemetery had been converted into a kind + of laboratory for my benefit. You know, when the queens were driven from + the palaces, God was banished from the churches. + </p> + <p> + Every day at six the horrible procession filed in. The bodies were heaped + together in a wagon, the heads in a sack. I chose some bodies and heads in + a haphazard fashion, while the remainder were thrown into a common grave. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this occupation with the dead, my love for Solange + increased from day to day; while the poor child reciprocated my affection + with the whole power of her pure soul. + </p> + <p> + Often I had thought of making her my wife; often we had mutually pictured + to ourselves the happiness of such a union. But in order to become my + wife, it would be necessary for Solange to reveal her name; and this name, + which was that of an emigrant, an aristocrat, meant death. + </p> + <p> + Her father had repeatedly urged her by letter to hasten her departure, but + she had informed him of our engagement. She had requested his consent, and + he had given it, so that all had gone well to this extent. + </p> + <p> + The trial and execution of the queen, Marie Antoinette, had plunged me, + too, into deepest sadness. Solange was all tears, and we could not rid + ourselves of a strange feeling of despondency, a presentiment of + approaching danger, that compressed our hearts. In vain I tried to whisper + courage to Solange. Weeping, she reclined in my arms, and I could not + comfort her, because my own words lacked the ring of confidence. + </p> + <p> + We passed the night together as usual, but the night was even more + depressing than the day. I recall now that a dog, locked up in a room + below us, howled till two o’clock in the morning. The next day we + were told that the dog’s master had gone away with the key in his + pocket, had been arrested on the way, tried at three, and executed at + four. + </p> + <p> + The time had come for us to part. Solange’s duties at the school + began at nine o’clock in the morning. Her school was in the vicinity + of the Botanic Gardens. I hesitated long to let her go; she, too, was + loath to part from me. But it must be. Solange was prone to be an object + of unpleasant inquiries. + </p> + <p> + I called a conveyance and Accompanied her as far as the Rue des + Fosses-Saint-Bernard, where I got out and left her to pursue her way + alone. All the way we lay mutely wrapped in each other’s arms, + mingling tears with our kisses. + </p> + <p> + After leaving the carriage, I stood as if rooted to the ground. I heard + Solange call me, but I dared not go to her, because her face, moist with + tears, and her hysterical manner were calculated to attract attention. + </p> + <p> + Utterly wretched, I returned home, passing the entire day in writing to + Solange. In the evening I sent her an entire volume of love-pledges. + </p> + <p> + My letter had hardly gone to the post when I received one from her. + </p> + <p> + She had been sharply reprimanded for coming late; had been subjected to a + severe cross-examination, and threatened with forfeiture of her next + holiday. But she vowed to join me even at the cost of her place. I thought + I should go mad at the prospect of being parted from her a whole week. I + was more depressed because a letter which had arrived from her father + appeared to have been tampered with. + </p> + <p> + I passed a wretched night and a still more miserable day. + </p> + <p> + The next day the weather was appalling. Nature seemed to be dissolving in + a cold, ceaseless rain—a rain like that which announces the approach + of winter. All the way to the laboratory my ears were tortured with the + criers announcing the names of the condemned, a large number of men, + women, and children. The bloody harvest was over-rich. I should not lack + subjects for my investigations that day. + </p> + <p> + The day ended early. At four o’clock I arrived at Clamart; it was + almost night. + </p> + <p> + The view of the cemetery, with its large, new-made graves; the sparse, + leafless trees that swayed in the wind, was desolate, almost appalling. + </p> + <p> + A large, open pit yawned before me. It was to receive to-day’s + harvest from the Place de la Révolution. An exceedingly large number of + victims was expected, for the pit was deeper than usual. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically I approached the grave. At the bottom the water had gathered + in a pool; my feet slipped; I came within an inch of falling in. My hair + stood on end. The rain had drenched me to the skin. I shuddered and + hastened into the laboratory. + </p> + <p> + It was, as I have said, an abandoned chapel. My eyes searched—I know + not why—to discover if some traces of the holy purpose to which the + edifice had once been devoted did not still adhere to the walls or to the + altar; but the walls were bare, the altar empty. + </p> + <p> + I struck a light and deposited the candle on the operating-table on which + lay scattered a miscellaneous assortment of the strange instruments I + employed. I sat down and fell into a reverie. I thought of the poor queen, + whom I had seen in her beauty, glory, and happiness, yesterday carted to + the scaffold, pursued by the execrations of a people, to-day lying + headless on the common sinners’ bier—she who had slept beneath + the gilded canopy of the throne of the Tuileries and St. Cloud. + </p> + <p> + As I sat thus, absorbed in gloomy meditation, wind and rain without + redoubled in fury. The rain-drops dashed against the window-panes, the + storm swept with melancholy moaning through the branches of the trees. + Anon there mingled with the violence of the elements the sound of wheels. + </p> + <p> + It was the executioner’s red hearse with its ghastly freight from + the Place de la Révolution. + </p> + <p> + The door of the little chapel was pushed ajar, and two men, drenched with + rain, entered, carrying a sack between them. + </p> + <p> + “There, M. Ledru,” said the guillotinier; “there is what + your heart longs for! Be in no hurry this night! We’ll leave you to + enjoy their society alone. Orders are not to cover them up till to-morrow, + and so they’ll not take cold.” + </p> + <p> + With a horrible laugh, the two executioners deposited the sack in a + corner, near the former altar, right in front of me. Thereupon they + sauntered out, leaving open the door, which swung furiously on its hinges + till my candle flashed and flared in the fierce draft. + </p> + <p> + I heard them unharness the horse, lock the cemetery, and go away. + </p> + <p> + I was strangely impelled to go with them, but an indefinable power + fettered me in my place. I could not repress a shudder. I had no fear; but + the violence of the storm, the splashing of the rain, the whistling sounds + of the lashing branches, the shrill vibration of the atmosphere, which + made my candle tremble—all this filled me with a vague terror that + began at the roots of my hair and communicated itself to every part of my + body. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I fancied I heard a voice! A voice at once soft and plaintive; a + voice within the chapel, pronouncing the name of “Albert!” + </p> + <p> + I was startled. + </p> + <p> + “Albert!” + </p> + <p> + But one person in all the world addressed me by that name! + </p> + <p> + Slowly I directed my weeping eyes around the chapel, which, though small, + was not completely lighted by the feeble rays of the candle, leaving the + nooks and angles in darkness, and my look remained fixed on the + blood-soaked sack near the altar with its hideous contents. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the same voice repeated the same name, only it sounded + fainter and more plaintive. + </p> + <p> + “Albert!” + </p> + <p> + I bolted out of my chair, frozen with horror. + </p> + <p> + The voice seemed to proceed from the sack! + </p> + <p> + I touched myself to make sure that I was awake; then I walked toward the + sack with my arms extended before me, but stark and staring with horror. I + thrust my hand into it. Then it seemed to me as if two lips, still warm, + pressed a kiss upon my fingers! + </p> + <p> + I had reached that stage of boundless terror where the excess of fear + turns into the audacity of despair. I seized the head and collapsing in my + chair, placed it in front of me. + </p> + <p> + Then I gave vent to a fearful scream. This head, with its lips still warm, + with the eyes half closed, was the head of Solange! + </p> + <p> + I thought I should go mad. + </p> + <p> + Three times I called: + </p> + <p> + “Solange! Solange! Solange!” + </p> + <p> + At the third time she opened her eyes and looked at me. Tears trickled + down her cheeks; then a moist glow darted from her eyes, as if the soul + were passing, and the eyes closed, never to open again. + </p> + <p> + I sprang to my feet a raving maniac, I wanted to fly; I knocked against + the table; it fell. The candle was extinguished; the head rolled upon the + floor, and I fell prostrate, as if a terrible fever had stricken me down—an + icy-shudder convulsed me, and, with a deep sigh, I swooned. + </p> + <p> + The following morning at six the grave-diggers found me, cold as the + flagstones on which I lay. + </p> + <p> + Solange, betrayed by her father’s letter, had been arrested the same + day, condemned, and executed. + </p> + <p> + The head that had called me, the eyes that had looked at me, were the + head, the eyes, of Solange! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BIRDS IN THE LETTER-BOX By Rene Bazin + </h2> + <p> + Nothing can describe the peace that surrounded the country parsonage. The + parish was small, moderately honest, prosperous, and was used to the old + priest, who had ruled it for thirty years. The town ended at the + parsonage, and there began meadows which sloped down to the river and were + filled in summer with the perfume of flowers and all the music of the + earth. Behind the great house a kitchen-garden encroached on the meadow. + The first ray of the sun was for it, and so was the last. Here the + cherries ripened in May, and the currants often earlier, and a week before + Assumption, usually, you could not pass within a hundred feet without + breathing among the hedges the heavy odor of the melons. + </p> + <p> + But you must not think that the abbé of St. Philémon was a gourmand. He + had reached the age when appetite is only a memory. His shoulders were + bent, his face was wrinkled, he had two little gray eyes, one of which + could not see any longer, and he was so deaf in one ear that if you + happened to be on that side you just had to get round on the other. + </p> + <p> + Mercy, no! he did not eat all the fruits in his orchard. The boys got + their share—and a big share—but the biggest share, by all + odds, was eaten by the birds—the blackbirds, who lived there very + comfortably all the year, and sang in return the best they could; the + orioles, pretty birds of passage, who helped them in summer, and the + sparrows, and the warblers of every variety; and the tomtits, swarms of + them, with feathers as thick as your fingers, and they hung on the + branches and pecked at a grape or scratched a pear—veritable little + beasts of prey, whose only “thank you” was a shrill cry like a + saw. + </p> + <p> + Even to them, old age had made the abbé of St. Philémon indulgent. “The + beasts cannot correct their faults,” he used to say; “if I got + angry at them for not changing I’d have to get angry with a good + many of my parishioners!” + </p> + <p> + And he contented himself with clapping his hands together loud when he + went into his orchard, so he should not see too much stealing. + </p> + <p> + Then there was a spreading of wings, as if all the silly flowers cut off + by a great wind were flying away; gray, and white, and yellow, and + mottled, a short flight, a rustling of leaves, and then quiet for five + minutes. But what minutes! Fancy, if you can, that there was not one + factory in the village, not a weaver or a blacksmith, and that the noise + of men with their horses and cattle, spreading over the wide, distant + plains, melted into the whispering of the breeze and was lost. Mills were + unknown, the roads were little frequented, the railroads were very far + away. Indeed, if the ravagers of his garden had repented for long the abbé + would have fallen asleep of the silence over his breviary. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, their return was prompt; a sparrow led the way, a jay + followed, and then the whole swarm was back at work. And the abbé could + walk up and down, close his book or open it, and murmur: “They’ll + not leave me a berry this year!” + </p> + <p> + It made no difference; not a bird left his prey, any more than if the good + abbé had been a cone-shaped pear-tree, with thick leaves, balancing + himself on the gravel of the walk. + </p> + <p> + The birds know that those who complain take no action. Every year they + built their nests around the parsonage of St. Philémon in greater numbers + than anywhere else. The best places were quickly taken, the hollows in the + trees, the holes in the walls, the forks of the apple-trees and the elms, + and you could see a brown beak, like the point of a sword, sticking out of + a wisp of straw between all the rafters of the roof. One year, when all + the places were taken, I suppose, a tomtit, in her embarrassment, spied + the slit of the letter-box protected by its little roof, at the right of + the parsonage gate. She slipped in, was satisfied with the result of her + explorations, and brought the materials to build a nest. There was nothing + she neglected that would make it warm, neither the feathers, nor the + horsehair, nor the wool, nor even the scales of lichens that cover old + wood. + </p> + <p> + One morning the housekeeper came in perfectly furious, carrying a paper. + She had found it under the laurel bush, at the foot of the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Look, sir, a paper, and dirty, too! They are up to fine doings!” + </p> + <p> + “Who, Philomène?” + </p> + <p> + “Your miserable birds; all the birds that you let stay here! Pretty + soon they’ll be building their nests in your soup-tureens!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t but one.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven’t they got the idea of laying their eggs in your + letter-box! I opened it because the postman rang and that doesn’t + happen every day. It was full of straw and horsehair and spiders’ + webs, with enough feathers to make a quilt, and, in the midst of all that, + a beast that I didn’t see hissed at me like a viper!” + </p> + <p> + The abbé of St. Philémon began to laugh like a grandfather when he hears + of a baby’s pranks. + </p> + <p> + “That must be a tomtit,” said he, “they are the only + birds clever enough to think of it. Be careful not to touch it, Philomène.” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that; it is not nice enough!” + </p> + <p> + The abbé went hastily through the garden, the house, the court planted + with asparagus, till he came to the wall which separated the parsonage + from the public road, and there he carefully opened the letter-box, in + which there would have been room enough for all the mail received in a + year by all the inhabitants of the village. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, he was not mistaken. The shape of the nest, like a pine-cone, + its color and texture, and the lining, which showed through, made him + smile. He heard the hiss of the brooding bird inside and replied: + </p> + <p> + “Rest easy, little one, I know you. Twenty-one days to hatch your + eggs and three weeks to raise your family; that is what you want? You + shall have it. I’ll take away the key.” + </p> + <p> + He did take away the key, and when he had finished the morning’s + duties—visits to his parishioners who were ill or in trouble; + instructions to a boy who was to pick him out some fruit at the village: a + climb up the steeple because a storm had loosened some stones, he + remembered the tomtit and began to be afraid she would be troubled by the + arrival of a letter while she was hatching her eggs. + </p> + <p> + The fear was almost groundless, because the people of St. Philémon did not + receive any more letters than they sent. The postman had little to do on + his rounds but to eat soup at one house, to have a drink at another and, + once in a long while, to leave a letter from some conscript, or a bill for + taxes at some distant farm. Nevertheless, since St. Robert’s Day was + near, which, as you know, comes on the 29th of April, the abbé thought it + wise to write to the only three friends worthy of that name, whom death + had left him, a layman and two priests: “My friend, do not + congratulate me on my saint’s day this year, if you please. It would + inconvenience me to receive a letter at this time. Later I shall explain, + and you will appreciate my reasons.” + </p> + <p> + They thought that his eye was worse and did not write. + </p> + <p> + The abbé of St. Philémon was delighted. For three weeks he never entered + his gate one time without thinking of the eggs, speckled with pink, that + were lying in the letter-box, and when the twenty-first day came round he + bent down and listened with his ear close to the slit of the box. Then he + stood up beaming: + </p> + <p> + “I hear them chirp, Philomène; I hear them chirp. They owe their + lives to me, sure enough, and they’ll not be the ones to regret it + any more than I.” + </p> + <p> + He had in his bosom the heart of a child that had never grown old. + </p> + <p> + Now, at the same time, in the green room of the palace, at the chief town + of the department, the bishop was deliberating over the appointments to be + made with his regular councillors, his two grand vicars, the dean of the + chapter, the secretary-general of the palace, and the director of the + great academy. After he had appointed several vicars and priests he made + this suggestion: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen of the council, I have in mind a candidate suitable in + all respects for the parish of X———; but I think it + would be well, at least, to offer that charge and that honor to one of our + oldest priests, the abbé of St. Philémon. He will undoubtedly refuse it, + and his modesty, no less than his age, will be the cause; but we shall + have shown, as far as we could, our appreciation of his virtues.” + </p> + <p> + The five councilors approved unanimously, and that very evening a letter + was sent from the palace, signed by the bishop, and which contained in a + postscript: “Answer at once, my dear abbé; or, better, come to see + me, because I must submit my appointments to the government within three + days.” + </p> + <p> + The letter arrived at St. Philémon the very day the tomtits were hatched. + The postman had difficulty in slipping it into the slit of the box, but it + disappeared inside and lay touching the base of the nest, like a white + pavement at the bottom of the dark chamber. + </p> + <p> + The time came when the tiny points on the wings of the little tomtits + began to be covered with down. There were fourteen of them, and they + twittered and staggered on their little feet, with their beaks open up to + their eyes, never ceasing, from morning till night, to wait for food, eat + it, digest it, and demand more. That was the first period, when the baby + birds hadn’t any sense. But in birds it doesn’t last long. + Very soon they quarrelled in the nest, which began to break with the + fluttering of their wings, then they tumbled out of it and walked along + the side of the box, peeped through the slit at the big world outside, and + at last they ventured out. + </p> + <p> + The abbé of St. Philémon, with a neighboring priest, attended this + pleasant garden party. When the little ones appeared beneath the roof of + the box—two, three—together and took their flight, came back, + started again, like bees at the door of a hive, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Behold, a babyhood ended and a good work accomplished. They are + hardy and strong, every one.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, during his hour of leisure after dinner, the abbé came to + the box with the key in his hand. “Tap, tap,” he went. There + was no answer. “I thought so,” said he. Then he opened the box + and, mingled with the débris of the nest, the letter fell into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” said he, recognizing the writing. “A + letter from the bishop; and in what a state! How long has it been here?” + </p> + <p> + His cheek grew pale as he read. + </p> + <p> + “Philomène, harness Robin quickly.” + </p> + <p> + She came to see what was the matter before obeying. + </p> + <p> + “What have you there, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “The bishop has been waiting for me three weeks!” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve missed your chance,” said the old woman. + </p> + <p> + The abbé was away until the next evening. When he came back he had a + peaceful air, but sometimes peace is not attained without effort and we + have to struggle to keep it. When he had helped to unharness Robin and had + given him some hay, had changed his cassock and unpacked his box, from + which he took a dozen little packages of things bought on his visit to the + city, it was the very time that the birds assembled in the branches to + tell each other about the day. There had been a shower and the drops still + fell from the leaves as they were shaken by these bohemian couples looking + for a good place to spend the night. + </p> + <p> + Recognizing their friend and master as he walked up and down the gravel + path, they came down, fluttered about him, making an unusually loud noise, + and the tomtits, the fourteen of the nest, whose feathers were still not + quite grown, essayed their first spirals about the pear-trees and their + first cries in the open air. + </p> + <p> + The abbé of St. Philémon watched them with a fatherly eye, but his + tenderness was sad, as we look at things that have cost us dear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my little ones, without me you would not be here, and without + you I would be dead. I do not regret it at all, but don’t insist. + Your thanks are too noisy.” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands impatiently. + </p> + <p> + He had never been ambitious, that is very sure, and, even at that moment, + he told the truth. Nevertheless, the next day, after a night spent in + talking to Philomène, he said to her: + </p> + <p> + “Next year, Philomène, if the tomtit comes back, let me know. It is + decidedly inconvenient.” + </p> + <p> + But the tomtit never came again—and neither did the letter from the + bishop! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + JEAN GOURDON’S FOUR DAYS By Émile Zola + </h2> + <h3> + SPRING + </h3> + <p> + On that particular day, at about five o’clock in the morning, the + sun entered with delightful abruptness into the little room I occupied at + the house of my uncle Lazare, parish priest of the hamlet of Dourgues. A + broad yellow ray fell upon ray closed eyelids, and I awoke in light. + </p> + <p> + My room, which was whitewashed, and had deal furniture, was full of + attractive gaiety. I went to the window and gazed at the Durance, which + traced its broad course amidst the dark green verdure of the valley. Fresh + puffs of wind caressed my face, and the murmur of the trees and river + seemed to call me to them. + </p> + <p> + I gently opened my door. To get out I had to pass through my uncle’s + room. I proceeded on tip-toe, fearing the creaking of my thick boots might + awaken the worthy man, who was still slumbering with a smiling + countenance. And I trembled at the sound of the church bell tolling the + Angelus. For some days past my uncle Lazare had been following me about + everywhere, looking sad and annoyed. He would perhaps have prevented me + going over there to the edge of the river, and hiding myself among the + willows on the bank, so as to watch for Babet passing, that tall dark girl + who had come with the spring. + </p> + <p> + But my uncle was sleeping soundly. I felt something like remorse in + deceiving him and running away in this manner. I stayed for an instant and + gazed on his calm countenance, with its gentle expression enhanced by + rest, and I recalled to mind with feeling the day when he had come to + fetch me in the chilly and deserted home which my mother’s funeral + was leaving. Since that day, what tenderness, what devotedness, what good + advice he had bestowed on me! He had given me his knowledge and his + kindness, all his intelligence and all his heart. + </p> + <p> + I was tempted for a moment to cry out to him: + </p> + <p> + “Get up, uncle Lazare! let us go for a walk together along that path + you are so fond of beside the Durance. You will enjoy the fresh air and + morning sun. You will see what an appetite you will have on your return!” + </p> + <p> + And Babet, who was going down to the river in her light morning gown, and + whom I should not be able to see! My uncle would be there, and I would + have to lower my eyes. It must be so nice under the willows, lying flat on + one’s stomach, in the fine grass! I felt a languid feeling creeping + over me, and, slowly, taking short steps, holding my breath, I reached the + door. I went downstairs, and began running like a madcap in the + delightful, warm May morning air. + </p> + <p> + The sky was quite white on the horizon, with exquisitely delicate blue and + pink tints. The pale sun seemed like a great silver lamp, casting a shower + of bright rays into the Durance. And the broad, sluggish river, expanding + lazily over the red sand, extended from one end of the valley to the + other, like a stream of liquid metal. To the west, a line of low rugged + hills threw slight violet streaks on the pale sky. + </p> + <p> + I had been living in this out-of-the-way corner for ten years. How often + had I kept my uncle Lazare waiting to give me my Latin lesson! The worthy + man wanted to make me learned. But I was on the other side of the Durance, + ferreting out magpies, discovering a hill which I had not yet climbed. + Then, on my return, there were remonstrances: the Latin was forgotten, my + poor uncle scolded me for having torn my trousers, and he shuddered when + he noticed sometimes that the skin underneath was cut. The valley was + mine, really mine; I had conquered it with my legs, and I was the real + landlord by right of friendship. And that bit of river, those two leagues + of the Durance, how I loved them, how well we understood one another when + together! I knew all the whims of my dear stream, its anger, its charming + ways, its different features at each hour of the day. + </p> + <p> + When I reached the water’s edge on that particular morning, I felt + something like giddiness at seeing it so gentle and so white. It had never + looked so gay. I slipped rapidly beneath the willows, to an open space + where a broad patch of sunlight fell on the dark grass. There I laid me + down on my stomach, listening, watching the pathway by which Babet would + come, through the branches. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how sound uncle Lazare must be sleeping!” I thought. + </p> + <p> + And I extended myself at full length on the moss. The sun struck gentle + heat into my back, whilst my breast, buried in the grass, was quite cool. + </p> + <p> + Have you never examined the turf, at close quarters, with your eyes on the + blades of grass? Whilst I was waiting for Babet, I pried indiscreetly into + a tuft which was really a whole world. In my bunch of grass there were + streets, cross roads, public squares, entire cities. At the bottom of it, + I distinguished a great dark patch where the shoots of the previous spring + were decaying sadly, then slender stalks were growing up, stretching out, + bending into a multitude of elegant forms, and producing frail colonnades, + churches, virgin forests. I saw two lean insects wandering in the midst of + this immensity; the poor children were certainly lost, for they went from + colonnade to colonnade, from street to street, in an affrighted, anxious + way. + </p> + <p> + It was just at this moment that, on raising my eyes, I saw Babet’s + white skirts standing out against the dark ground at the top of the + pathway. I recognized her printed calico gown, which was grey, with small + blue flowers. I sunk down deeper in the grass, I heard my heart thumping + against the earth and almost raising me with slight jerks. My breast was + burning now, I no longer felt the freshness of the dew. + </p> + <p> + The young girl came nimbly down the pathway, her skirts skimming the + ground with a swinging motion that charmed me, I saw her at full length, + quite erect, in her proud and happy gracefulness. She had no idea I was + there behind the willows; she walked with a light step, she ran without + giving a thought to the wind, which slightly raised her gown. I could + distinguish her feet, trotting along quickly, quickly, and a piece of her + white stockings, which was perhaps as large as one’s hand, and which + made me blush in a manner that was alike sweet and painful. + </p> + <p> + Oh! then, I saw nothing else, neither the Durance, nor the willows, nor + the whiteness of the sky. What cared I for the valley! It was no longer my + sweetheart; I was quite indifferent to its joy and its sadness. What cared + I for my friends, the stories, and the trees on the hills! The river could + run away all at once if it liked; I would not have regretted it. + </p> + <p> + And the spring, I did not care a bit about the spring! Had it borne away + the sun that warmed my back, its leaves, its rays, all its May morning, I + should have remained there, in ecstasy, gazing at Babet, running along the + pathway, and swinging her skirts deliciously. For Babet had taken the + valley’s place in my heart, Babet was the spring, I had never spoken + to her. Both of us blushed when we met one another in my uncle Lazare’s + church. I could have vowed she detested me. + </p> + <p> + She talked on that particular day for a few minutes with the women who + were washing. The sound of her pearly laughter reached as far as me, + mingled with the loud voice of the Durance. Then she stooped down to take + a little water in the hollow of her hand; but the bank was high, and + Babet, who was on the point of slipping, saved herself by clutching the + grass. I gave a frightful shudder, which made my blood run cold. I rose + hastily, and, without feeling ashamed, without reddening, ran to the young + girl. She cast a startled look at me; then she began to smile. I bent + down, at the risk of falling. I succeeded in filling my right hand with + water by keeping my fingers close together. And I presented this new sort + of cup to Babet’ asking her to drink. + </p> + <p> + The women who were washing laughed. Babet, confused, did not dare accept; + she hesitated, and half turned her head away. At last she made up her + mind, and delicately pressed her lips to the tips of my fingers; but she + had waited too long, all the water had run away. Then she burst out + laughing, she became a child again, and I saw very well that she was + making fun of me. + </p> + <p> + I was very silly. I bent forward again. This time I took the water in both + hands and hastened to put them to Babet’s lips. She drank, and I + felt the warm kiss from her mouth run up my arms to my breast, which it + filled with heat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how my uncle must sleep!” I murmured to myself. + </p> + <p> + Just as I said that, I perceived a dark shadow beside me, and, having + turned round, I saw my uncle Lazare, in person, a few paces away, watching + Babet and me as if offended. His cassock appeared quite white in the sun; + in his look I saw reproaches which made me feel inclined to cry. + </p> + <p> + Babet was very much afraid. She turned quite red, and hurried off + stammering: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Monsieur Jean, I thank you very much.” + </p> + <p> + As for me, wiping my wet hands, I stood motionless and confused before my + uncle Lazare. + </p> + <p> + The worthy man, with folded arms, and bringing back a corner of his + cassock, watched Babet, who was running up the pathway without turning her + head. Then, when she had disappeared behind the hedges, he lowered his + eyes to me, and I saw his pleasant countenance smile sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Jean,” he said to me, “come into the broad walk. + Breakfast is not ready. We have half an hour to spare.” + </p> + <p> + He set out with his rather heavy tread, avoiding the tufts of grass wet + with dew. A part of the bottom of his cassock that was dragging along the + ground, made a dull crackling sound. He held his breviary under his arm; + but he had forgotten his morning lecture, and he advanced dreamily, with + bowed head, and without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + His silence tormented me. He was generally so talkative. My anxiety + increased at each step. He had certainly seen me giving Babet water to + drink. What a sight, O Lord! The young girl, laughing and blushing, kissed + the tips of my fingers, whilst I, standing on tip-toe, stretching out my + arms, was leaning forward as if to kiss her. My action now seemed to me + frightfully audacious. And all my timidity returned. I inquired of myself + how I could have dared to have my fingers kissed so sweetly. + </p> + <p> + And my uncle Lazare, who said nothing, who continued walking with short + steps in front of me, without giving a single glance at the old trees he + loved! He was assuredly preparing a sermon. He was only taking me into the + broad walk to scold me at his ease. It would occupy at least an hour: + breakfast would get cold, and I would be unable to return to the water’s + edge and dream of the warm burns that Babet’s lips had left on my + hands. + </p> + <p> + We were in the broad walk. This walk, which was wide and short, ran beside + the river; it was shaded by enormous oak trees, with trunks lacerated by + seams, stretching out their great, tall branches. The fine grass spread + like a carpet beneath the trees, and the sun, riddling the foliage, + embroidered this carpet with a rosaceous pattern in gold. In the distance, + all around, extended raw green meadows. + </p> + <p> + My uncle went to the bottom of the walk, without altering his step and + without turning round. Once there, he stopped, and I kept beside him, + understanding that the terrible moment had arrived. + </p> + <p> + The river made a sharp curve; a low parapet at the end of the walk formed + a sort of terrace. This vault of shade opened on a valley of light. The + country expanded wide before us, for several leagues. The sun was rising + in the heavens, where the silvery rays of morning had become transformed + into a stream of gold; blinding floods of light ran from the horizon, + along the hills, and spread out into the plain with the glare of fire. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s silence, my uncle Lazare turned towards me. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, the sermon!” I thought, and I bowed my head. My + uncle pointed out the valley to me, with an expansive gesture; then, + drawing himself up, he said, slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Look, Jean, there is the spring. The earth is full of joy, my boy, + and I have brought you here, opposite this plain of light, to show you the + first smiles of the young season. Observe what brilliancy and sweetness! + Warm perfumes rise from the country and pass across our faces like puffs + of life.” + </p> + <p> + He was silent and seemed dreaming. I had raised my head, astonished, + breathing at ease. My uncle was not preaching. + </p> + <p> + “It is a beautiful morning,” he continued, “a morning of + youth. Your eighteen summers find full enjoyment amidst this verdure which + is at most eighteen days old. All is great brightness and perfume, is it + not? The broad valley seems to you a delightful place: the river is there + to give you its freshness, the trees to lend you their shade, the whole + country to speak to you of tenderness, the heavens themselves to kiss + those horizons that you are searching with hope and desire. The spring + belongs to fellows of your age. It is it that teaches the boys how to give + young girls to drink—” + </p> + <p> + I hung my head again. My uncle Lazare had certainly seen me. + </p> + <p> + “An old fellow like me,” he continued, “unfortunately + knows what trust to place in the charms of spring. I, my poor Jean, I love + the Durance because it waters these meadows and gives life to all the + valley; I love this young foliage because it proclaims to me the coming of + the fruits of summer and autumn; I love this sky because it is good to us, + because its warmth hastens the fecundity of the earth. I should have had + to tell you this one day or other; I prefer telling it you now, at this + early hour. It is spring itself that is giving you the lesson. The earth + is a vast workshop wherein there is never a slack season. Observe this + flower at our feet; to you it is perfume; to me it is labour, it + accomplishes its task by producing its share of life, a little black seed + which will work in its turn, next spring. And, now, search the vast + horizon. All this joy is but the act of generation. If the country be + smiling, it is because it is beginning the everlasting task again. Do you + hear it now, breathing hard, full of activity and haste? The leaves sigh, + the flowers are in a hurry, the corn grows without pausing; all the + plants, all the herbs are quarrelling as to which shall spring up the + quickest; and the running water, the river comes to assist in the common + labour, and the young sun which rises in the heavens is entrusted with the + duty of enlivening the everlasting task of the labourers.” + </p> + <p> + At this point my uncle made me look him straight in the face. He concluded + in these terms: + </p> + <p> + “Jean, you hear what your friend the spring says to you. He is + youth, but he is preparing ripe age; his bright smile is but the gaiety of + labour. Summer will be powerful, autumn bountiful, for the spring is + singing at this moment, while courageously performing its work.” + </p> + <p> + I looked very stupid. I understood my uncle Lazare. He was positively + preaching me a sermon, in which he told me I was an idle fellow and that + the time had come to work. + </p> + <p> + My uncle appeared as much embarrassed as myself. After having hesitated + for some instants he said, slightly stammering: + </p> + <p> + “Jean, you were wrong not to have come and told me all—as you + love Babet and Babet loves you—” + </p> + <p> + “Babet loves me!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + My uncle made me an ill-humoured gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Eh! allow me to speak. I don’t want another avowal. She owned + it to me herself.” + </p> + <p> + “She owned that to you, she owned that to you!” + </p> + <p> + And I suddenly threw my arms round my uncle Lazare’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how nice that is!” I added. “I had never spoken to + her, truly. She told you that at the confessional, didn’t she? I + would never have dared ask her if she loved me, and I would never have + known anything. Oh! how I thank you!” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare was quite red. He felt that he had just committed a + blunder. He had imagined that this was not my first meeting with the young + girl, and here he gave me a certainty, when as yet I only dared dream of a + hope. He held his tongue now; it was I who spoke with volubility. + </p> + <p> + “I understand all,” I continued. “You are right, I must + work to win Babet. But you will see how courageous I shall be. Ah! how + good you are, my uncle Lazare, and how well you speak! I understand what + the spring says: I, also, will have a powerful summer and an autumn of + abundance. One is well placed here, one sees all the valley; I am young + like it, I feel youth within me demanding to accomplish its task—” + </p> + <p> + My uncle calmed me. + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Jean,” he said to me. “I had long hoped to + make a priest of you, and I imparted to you my knowledge with that sole + aim. But what I saw this morning at the waterside compels me to definitely + give up my fondest hope. It is Heaven that disposes of us. You will love + the Almighty in another way. You cannot now remain in this village, and I + only wish you to return when ripened by age and work. I have chosen the + trade of printer for you; your education will serve you. One of my + friends, who is a printer at Grenoble, is expecting you next Monday.” + </p> + <p> + I felt anxious. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall come back and marry Babet?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + My uncle smiled imperceptibly; and, without answering in a direct manner, + said: + </p> + <p> + “The remainder is the will of Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “You are heaven, and I have faith in your kindness. Oh! uncle, see + that Babet does not forget me. I will work for her.” + </p> + <p> + Then my uncle Lazare again pointed out to me the valley which the warm + golden light was overspreading more and more. + </p> + <p> + “There is hope,” he said to me. “Do not be as old as I + am, Jean. Forget my sermon, be as ignorant as this land. It does not + trouble about the autumn; it is all engrossed with the joy of its smile; + it labours, courageously and without a care. It hopes.” + </p> + <p> + And we returned to the parsonage, strolling along slowly in the grass, + which was scorched by the sun, and chatting with concern of our + approaching separation. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was cold, as I had foreseen; but that did not trouble me much. I + had tears in my eyes each time I looked at my uncle Lazare. And, at the + thought of Babet, my heart beat fit to choke me. + </p> + <p> + I do not remember what I did during the remainder of the day. I think I + went and lay down under the willows at the riverside. My uncle was right, + the earth was at work. On placing my ear to the grass I seemed to hear + continual sounds. Then I dreamed of what my life would be. Buried in the + grass until nightfall, I arranged an existence full of labour divided + between Babet and my uncle Lazare. The energetic youthfulness of the soil + had penetrated my breast, which I pressed with force against the common + mother, and at times I imagined myself to be one of the strong willows + that lived around me. In the evening I could not dine. My uncle, no doubt, + understood the thoughts that were choking me, for he feigned not to notice + my want of appetite. As soon as I was able to rise from table, I hastened + to return and breathe the open air outside. + </p> + <p> + A fresh breeze rose from the river, the dull splashing of which I heard in + the distance. A soft light fell from the sky. The valley expanded, + peaceful and transparent, like a dark shoreless ocean. There were vague + sounds in the air, a sort of impassioned tremor, like a great flapping of + wings passing above my head. Penetrating perfumes rose with the cool air + from the grass. + </p> + <p> + I had gone out to see Babet; I knew she came to the parsonage every night, + and I went and placed myself in ambush behind a hedge. I had got rid of my + timidness of the morning; I considered it quite natural to be waiting for + her there, because she loved me and I had to tell her of my departure. + </p> + <p> + “When I perceived her skirts in the limpid night, I advanced + noiselessly. Then I murmured in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Babet, Babet, I am here.” + </p> + <p> + She did not recognise me, at first, and started with fright. When she + discovered who it was, she seemed still more frightened, which very much + surprised me. + </p> + <p> + “It’s you, Monsieur Jean,” she said to me. “What + are you doing there? What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + I was beside her and took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You love me fondly, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + “I! who told you that?” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle Lazare.” + </p> + <p> + She stood there in confusion. Her hand began to tremble in mine. As she + was on the point of running away, I took her other hand. We were face to + face, in a sort of hollow in the hedge, and I felt Babet’s panting + breath running all warm over my face. The freshness of the air, the + rustling silence of the night, hung around us. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” stammered the young girl, “I never + said that—his reverence the curé misunderstood—For mercy’s + sake, let me be, I am in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” I continued, “I want you to know that I am + going away to-morrow, and to promise to love me always.” + </p> + <p> + “You are leaving to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + Oh! that sweet cry, and how tenderly Babet uttered it! I seem still to + hear her apprehensive voice full of affliction and love. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” I exclaimed in my turn, “that my uncle Lazare + said the truth. Besides, he never tells fibs. You love me, you love me, + Babet! Your lips this morning confided the secret very softly to my + fingers.” + </p> + <p> + And I made her sit down at the foot of the hedge. My memory has retained + my first chat of love in its absolute innocence. Babet listened to me like + a little sister. She was no longer afraid, she told me the story of her + love. And there were solemn sermons, ingenious avowals, projects without + end. She vowed she would marry no one but me, I vowed to deserve her hand + by labour and tenderness. There was a cricket behind the hedge, who + accompanied our chat with his chaunt of hope, and all the valley, + whispering in the dark, took pleasure in hearing us talk so softly. + </p> + <p> + On separating we forgot to kiss each other. + </p> + <p> + When I returned to my little room, it appeared to me that I had left it + for at least a year. That day which was so short, seemed an eternity of + happiness. It was the warmest and most sweetly-scented spring-day of my + life, and the remembrance of it is now like the distant, faltering voice + of my youth. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <h3> + SUMMER + </h3> + <p> + When I awoke at about three o’clock in the morning on that + particular day, I was lying on the hard ground tired out, and with my face + bathed in perspiration. The hot heavy atmosphere of a July night weighed + me down. + </p> + <p> + My companions were sleeping around me, wrapped in their hooded cloaks; + they speckled the grey ground with black, and the obscure plain panted; I + fancied I heard the heavy breathing of a slumbering multitude. Indistinct + sounds, the neighing of horses, the clash of arms rang out amidst the + rustling silence. + </p> + <p> + The army had halted at about midnight, and we had received orders to lie + down and sleep. We had been marching for three days, scorched by the sun + and blinded by dust. The enemy were at length in front of us, over there, + on those hills on the horizon. At daybreak a decisive battle would be + fought. + </p> + <p> + I had been a victim to despondency. For three days I had been as if + trampled on, without energy and without thought for the future. It was the + excessive fatigue, indeed, that had just awakened me. Now, lying on my + back, with my eyes wide open, I was thinking whilst gazing into the night, + I thought of this battle, this butchery, which the sun was about to light + up. For more than six years, at the first shot in each fight, I had been + saying good-bye to those I loved the most fondly, Babet and uncle Lazare. + And now, barely a month before my discharge, I had to say good-bye again, + and this time perhaps for ever. + </p> + <p> + Then my thoughts softened. With closed eyelids I saw Babet and my uncle + Lazare. How long it was since I had kissed them! I remembered the day of + our separation; my uncle weeping because he was poor, and allowing me to + leave like that, and Babet, in the evening, had vowed she would wait for + me, and that she would never love another. I had had to quit all, my + master at Grenoble, my friends at Dourgues. A few letters had come from + time to time to tell me they always loved me, and that happiness was + awaiting me in my well-beloved valley. And I, I was going to fight, I was + going to get killed. + </p> + <p> + I began dreaming of my return. I saw my poor old uncle on the threshold of + the parsonage extending his trembling arms; and behind him was Babet, + quite red, smiling through her tears. I fell into their arms and kissed + them, seeking for expressions— + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the beating of drums recalled me to stern reality. Daybreak had + come, the grey plain expanded in the morning mist. The ground became full + of life, indistinct forms appeared on all sides; a sound that became + louder and louder filled the air; it was the call of bugles, the galloping + of horses, the rumble of artillery, the shouting out of orders. War came + threatening, amidst my dream of tenderness. I rose with difficulty; it + seemed to me that my bones were broken, and that my head was about to + split. I hastily got my men together; for I must tell you that I had won + the rank of sergeant. We soon received orders to bear to the left and + occupy a hillock above the plain. + </p> + <p> + As we were about to move, the sergeant-major came running along and + shouting: + </p> + <p> + “A letter for Sergeant Gourdon!” + </p> + <p> + And he handed me a dirty crumpled letter, which had been lying perhaps for + a week in the leather bags of the post-office. I had only just time to + recognise the writing of my uncle Lazare. + </p> + <p> + “Forward, march!” shouted the major. + </p> + <p> + I had to march. For a few seconds I held the poor letter in my hand, + devouring it with my eyes; it burnt my fingers; I would have given + everything in the world to have sat down and wept at ease whilst reading + it. I had to content myself with slipping it under my tunic against my + heart. + </p> + <p> + I have never experienced such agony. By way of consolation I said to + myself what my uncle had so often repeated to me: I was in the summer of + my life, at the moment of the fierce struggle, and it was essential that I + should perform my duty bravely, if I would have a peaceful and bountiful + autumn. But these reasons exasperated me the more: this letter, which had + come to speak to me of happiness, burnt my heart, which had revolted + against the folly of war. And I could not even read it! I was perhaps + going to die without knowing what it contained, without perusing my uncle + Lazare’s affectionate remarks for the last time. + </p> + <p> + We had reached the top of the hill. We were to await orders there to + advance. The battle-field had been marvellously chosen to slaughter one + another at ease. The immense plain expanded for several leagues, and was + quite bare, without a house or tree. Hedges and bushes made slight spots + on the whiteness of the ground. I have never since seen such a country, an + ocean of dust, a chalky soil, bursting open here and there, and displaying + its tawny bowels. And never either have I since witnessed a sky of such + intense purity, a July day so lovely and so warm; at eight o’clock + the sultry heat was already scorching our faces. O the splendid morning, + and what a sterile plain to kill and die in! + </p> + <p> + Firing had broken out with irregular crackling sounds, a long time since, + supported by the solemn growl of the cannon. The enemy, Austrians dressed + in white, had quitted the heights, and the plain was studded with long + files of men, who looked to me about as big as insects. One might have + thought it was an ant-hill in insurrection. Clouds of smoke hung over the + battle-field. At times, when these clouds broke asunder, I perceived + soldiers in flight, smitten with terrified panic. Thus there were currents + of fright which bore men away, and outbursts of shame and courage which + brought them back under fire. + </p> + <p> + I could neither hear the cries of the wounded, nor see the blood flow. I + could only distinguish the dead which the battalions left behind them, and + which resembled black patches. I began to watch the movements of the + troops with curiosity, irritated at the smoke which hid a good half of the + show, experiencing a sort of egotistic pleasure at the knowledge that I + was in security, whilst others were dying. + </p> + <p> + At about nine o’clock we were ordered to advance. We went down the + hill at the double and proceeded towards the centre which was giving way. + The regular beat of our footsteps appeared to me funeral-like. The bravest + among us panting, pale and with haggard features. + </p> + <p> + I have made up my mind to tell the truth. At the first whistle of the + bullets, the battalion suddenly came to a halt, tempted to fly. + </p> + <p> + “Forward, forward!” shouted the chiefs. + </p> + <p> + But we were riveted to the ground, bowing our heads when a bullet whistled + by our ears. This movement is instinctive; if shame had not restrained me, + I would have thrown myself flat on my stomach in the dust. + </p> + <p> + Before us was a huge veil of smoke which we dared not penetrate. Red + flashes passed through this smoke. And, shuddering, we still stood still. + But the bullets reached us; soldiers fell with yells. The chiefs shouted + louder: + </p> + <p> + “Forward, forward!” + </p> + <p> + The rear ranks, which they pushed on, compelled us to march. Then, closing + our eyes, we made a fresh dash and entered the smoke. + </p> + <p> + We were seized with furious rage. When the cry of “Halt!” + resounded, we experienced difficulty in coming to a standstill. As soon as + one is motionless, fear returns and one feels a wish to run away. Firing + commenced. We shot in front of us, without aiming, finding some relief in + discharging bullets into the smoke. I remember I pulled my trigger + mechanically, with lips firmly set together and eyes wide open; I was no + longer afraid, for, to tell the truth, I no longer knew if I existed. The + only idea I had in my head, was that I would continue firing until all was + over. My companion on the left received a bullet full in the face and fell + on me; I brutally pushed him away, wiping my cheek which he had drenched + with blood. And I resumed firing. + </p> + <p> + I still remember having seen our colonel, M. de Montrevert, firm and erect + upon his horse, gazing quietly towards the enemy. That man appeared to me + immense. He had no rifle to amuse himself with, and his breast was + expanded to its full breadth above us. From time to time, he looked down, + and exclaimed in a dry voice: + </p> + <p> + “Close the ranks, close the ranks!” + </p> + <p> + We closed our ranks like sheep, treading on the dead, stupefied, and + continuing firing. Until then, the enemy had only sent us bullets; a dull + explosion was heard and a shell carried off five of our men. A battery + which must have been opposite us and which we could not see, had just + opened fire. The shells struck into the middle of us, almost at one spot, + making a sanguinary gap which we closed unceasingly with the obstinacy of + ferocious brutes. + </p> + <p> + “Close the ranks, close the ranks!” the colonel coldly + repeated. + </p> + <p> + We were giving the cannon human flesh. Each time a soldier was struck + down, I was taking a step nearer death, I was approaching the spot where + the shells were falling heavily, crushing the men whose turn had come to + die. The corpses were forming heaps in that place, and soon the shells + would strike into nothing more than a mound of mangled flesh; shreds of + limbs flew about at each fresh discharge. We could no longer close the + ranks. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers yelled, the chiefs themselves were moved. + </p> + <p> + “With the bayonet, with the bayonet!” + </p> + <p> + And amidst a shower of bullets the battalion rushed in fury towards the + shells. The veil of smoke was torn asunder; we perceived the enemy’s + battery flaming red, which was firing at us from the mouths of all its + pieces, on the summit of a hillock. But the dash forward had commenced, + the shells stopped the dead only. + </p> + <p> + I ran beside Colonel Montrevert, whose horse had just been killed, and who + was fighting like a simple soldier. Suddenly I was struck down; it seemed + to me as if my breast opened and my shoulder was taken away. A frightful + wind passed over my face. + </p> + <p> + And I fell. The colonel fell beside me. I felt myself dying. I thought of + those I loved, and fainted whilst searching with a withering hand for my + uncle Lazare’s letter. + </p> + <p> + When I came to myself again I was lying on my side in the dust. I was + annihilated by profound stupor. I gazed before me with my eyes wide open + without seeing anything; it seemed to me that I had lost my limbs, and + that my brain was empty. I did not suffer, for life seemed to have + departed from my flesh. + </p> + <p> + The rays of a hot implacable sun fell upon my face like molten lead. I did + not feel it. Life returned to me little by little; my limbs became + lighter, my shoulder alone remained crushed beneath an enormous weight. + Then, with the instinct of a wounded animal, I wanted to sit up. I uttered + a cry of pain, and fell back upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + But I lived now, I saw, I understood. The plain spread out naked and + deserted, all white in the broad sunlight. It exhibited its desolation + beneath the intense serenity of heaven; heaps of corpses were sleeping in + the warmth, and the trees that had been brought down, seemed to be other + dead who were dying. There was not a breath of air. A frightful silence + came from those piles of inanimate bodies; then, at times, there were + dismal groans which broke this silence, and conveyed a long tremor to it. + Slender clouds of grey smoke hanging over the low hills on the horizon, + was all that broke the bright blue of the sky. The butchery was continuing + on the heights. + </p> + <p> + I imagined we were conquerors, and I experienced selfish pleasure in + thinking I could die in peace on this deserted plain. Around me the earth + was black. On raising my head I saw the enemy’s battery on which we + had charged, a few feet away from me. The struggle must have been + horrible: the mound was covered with hacked and disfigured bodies; blood + had flowed so abundantly that the dust seemed like a large red carpet. The + cannon stretched out their dark muzzles above the corpses. I shuddered + when I observed the silence of those guns. + </p> + <p> + Then gently, with a multitude of precautions, I succeeded in turning on my + stomach. I rested my head on a large stone all splashed with gore, and + drew my uncle Lazare’s letter from my breast. I placed it before my + eyes; but my tears prevented my reading it. + </p> + <p> + And whilst the sun was roasting me in the back, the acrid smell of blood + was choking me. I could form an idea of the woeful plain around me, and + was as if stiffened with the rigidness of the dead. My poor heart was + weeping in the warm and loathsome silence of murder. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Lazare wrote to me: + </p> + <p> + “My Dear Boy,—I hear war has been declared; but I still hope + you will get your discharge before the campaign opens. Every morning I + beseech the Almighty to spare you new dangers; He will grant my prayer; He + will, one of these days, let you close my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my poor Jean, I am becoming old, I have great need of your arm. + Since your departure I no more feel your youthfulness beside me, which + gave me back my twenty summers. Do you remember our strolls in the morning + along the oak-tree walk? Now I no longer dare to go beneath those trees; I + am alone, I am afraid. The Durance weeps. Come quickly and console me, + assuage my anxiety——” + </p> + <p> + The tears were choking me, I could not continue. At that moment a + heartrending cry was uttered a few steps away from me; I saw a soldier + suddenly rise, with the muscles of his face contracted; he extended his + arms in agony, and fell to the ground, where he writhed in frightful + convulsions; then he ceased moving. + </p> + <p> + “I have placed my hope in the Almighty,” continued my uncle, + “He will bring you back safe and sound to Dourgues, and we will + resume our peaceful existence. Let me dream out loud and tell you my plans + for the future. + </p> + <p> + “You will go no more to Grenoble, you will remain with me; I will + make my child a son of the soil, a peasant who shall live gaily whilst + tilling the fields. + </p> + <p> + “And I will retire to your farm. In a short time my trembling hands + will no longer be able to hold the Host. I only ask Heaven for two years + of such an existence. That will be my reward for the few good deeds I may + have done. Then you will sometimes lead me along the paths of our dear + valley, where every rock, every hedge will remind me of your youth which I + so greatly loved——” + </p> + <p> + I had to stop again. I felt such a sharp pain In my shoulder, that I + almost fainted a second time. A terrible anxiety had just taken possession + of me; it, seemed as if the sound of the fusillade was approaching, and I + thought with terror that our army was perhaps retreating, and that in its + flight it would descend to the plain and pass over my body. But I still + saw nothing but the slight cloud, of smoke hanging over the low hills. + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare added: + </p> + <p> + “And we shall be three to love one another. Ah! my well-beloved + Jean, how right you were to give her to drink that morning beside the + Durance. I was afraid of Babet, I was ill-humoured, and now I am jealous, + for I can see very well that I shall never be able to love you as much as + she does, ‘Tell him,’ she repeated to me yesterday, blushing, + ‘that if he gets killed, I shall go and throw myself into the river + at the spot where he gave me to drink.’ + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God! be careful of your life. There are things that + I cannot understand, but I feel that happiness awaits you here. I already + call Babet my daughter; I can see her on your arm, in the church, when I + shall bless your union. I wish that to be my last mass. + </p> + <p> + “Babet is a fine, tall girl now. She will, assist you in your work——” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the fusillade had gone farther away. I was weeping sweet + tears. There were dismal moans among soldiers who were in their last + agonies between the cannon wheels. I perceived one who was endeavoring to + get rid of a comrade, wounded as he was, whose body was crushing his + chest; and, as this wounded man struggled and complained, the soldier + pushed him brutally away, and made him roll down the slope of the mound, + whilst the wretched creature yelled with pain. At that cry a murmur came + from the heap of corpses. The sun, which was sinking, shed rays of a light + fallow colour. The blue of the sky was softer. + </p> + <p> + I finished reading my uncle Lazare’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “I simply wished,” he continued, “to give you news of + ourselves, and to beg you to come as soon as possible and make us happy. + And here I am weeping and gossiping like an old child. Hope, my poor Jean, + I pray, and God is good. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me quickly, and give me, if possible, the date of your + return. Babet and I are counting the weeks. We trust to see you soon; be + hopeful.” + </p> + <p> + The date of my return!—I kissed the letter, sobbing, and fancied for + a moment that I was kissing Babet and my uncle. No doubt I should never + see them again. I would die like a dog in the dust, beneath the leaden + sun. And it was on that desolated plain, amidst the death-rattle of the + dying, that those whom I loved dearly were saying good-bye. A buzzing + silence filled my ears; I gazed at the pale earth spotted with blood, + which extended, deserted, to the grey lines of the horizon. I repeated: + “I must die.” Then, I closed my eyes, and thought of Babet and + my uncle Lazare. + </p> + <p> + I know not how long I remained in a sort of painful drowsiness. My heart + suffered as much as my flesh. Warm tears ran slowly down my cheeks. Amidst + the nightmare that accompanied the fever, I heard a moan similar to the + continuous plaintive cry of a child in suffering. At times, I awoke and + stared at the sky in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + At last I understood that it was M. de Montrevert, lying a few paces off, + who was moaning in this manner. I had thought him dead. He was stretched + out with his face to the ground and his arms extended. This man had been + good to me; I said to myself that I could not allow him to die thus, with + his face to the ground, and I began crawling slowly towards him. + </p> + <p> + Two corpses separated us. For a moment I thought of passing over the + stomachs of these dead men to shorten the distance; for, my shoulder made + me suffer frightfully at every movement. But I did not dare. I proceeded + on my knees, assisting myself with one hand. When I reached the colonel, I + gave a sigh of relief; it seemed to me that I was less alone; we would die + together, and this death shared by both of us no longer terrified me. + </p> + <p> + I wanted him to see the sun, and I turned him over as gently as possible. + When the rays fell upon his face, he breathed hard; he opened his eyes. + Leaning over his body, I tried to smile at him. He closed his eyelids + again; I understood by his trembling lips that he was conscious of his + sufferings. + </p> + <p> + “It’s you, Gourdon,” he said to me at last, in a feeble + voice; “is the battle won?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, colonel,” I answered him. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of silence. Then, opening his eyes and looking at me, + he inquired— + </p> + <p> + “Where are you wounded?” + </p> + <p> + “In the shoulder—and you, colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “My elbow must be smashed. I remember; it was the same bullet that + arranged us both like this, my boy.” + </p> + <p> + He made an effort to sit up. + </p> + <p> + “But come,” he said with sudden gaiety, “we are not + going to sleep here?” + </p> + <p> + You cannot believe how much this courageous display of joviality + contributed towards giving me strength and hope. I felt quite different + since we were two to struggle against death. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” I exclaimed, “I will bandage up your arm with my + handkerchief, and we will try and support one another as far as the + nearest ambulance.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, my boy. Don’t make it too tight. Now, let us + take each other by the good hand and try to get up.” + </p> + <p> + We rose staggering. We had lost a great deal of blood; our heads were + swimming and our legs failed us. Any one would have mistaken us for + drunkards, stumbling, supporting, pushing one another, and making zigzags + to avoid the dead. The sun was setting with a rosy blush, and our gigantic + shadows danced in a strange way over the field of battle. It was the end + of a fine day. + </p> + <p> + The colonel joked; his lips were crisped by shudders, his laughter + resembled sobs. I could see that we were going to fall down in some corner + never to rise again. At times we were seized with giddiness, and were + obliged to stop and close our eyes. The ambulances formed small grey + patches on the dark ground at the extremity of the plain. + </p> + <p> + We knocked up against a large stone, and were thrown down one on the + other. The colonel swore like a pagan. We tried to walk on all-fours, + catching hold of the briars. In this way we did a hundred yards on our + knees. But our knees were bleeding. + </p> + <p> + “I have had enough of it,” said the colonel, lying down; + “they may come and fetch me if they will. Let us sleep.” + </p> + <p> + I still had the strength to sit half up, and shout with all the breath + that remained within me. Men were passing along in the distance picking up + the wounded; they ran to us and placed us side by side on a stretcher. + </p> + <p> + “Comrade,” the colonel said to me during the journey, “Death + will not have us. I owe you my life; I will pay my debt, whenever you have + need of me. Give me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + I placed my hand in his, and it was thus that we reached the ambulances. + They had lighted torches; the surgeons were cutting and sawing, amidst + frightful yells; a sickly smell came from the blood-stained linen, whilst + the torches cast dark rosy flakes into the basins. + </p> + <p> + The colonel bore the amputation of his arm with courage; I only saw his + lips turn pale and a film come over his eyes. When it was my turn, a + surgeon examined my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “A shell did that for you,” he said; “an inch lower and + your shoulder would have been carried away. The flesh, only, has suffered.” + </p> + <p> + And when I asked the assistant, who was dressing my wound, whether it was + serious, he answered me with a laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Serious! you will have to keep to your bed for three weeks, and + make new blood.” + </p> + <p> + I turned my face to the wall, not wishing to show my tears. And with my + heart’s eyes I perceived Babet and my uncle Lazare stretching out + their arms towards me. I had finished with the sanguinary struggles of my + summer day. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <h3> + AUTUMN + </h3> + <p> + It was nearly fifteen years since I had married Babet In my uncle Lazare’s + little church. We had sought happiness in our dear valley. I had made + myself a farmer; the Durance, my first sweetheart, was now a good mother + to me, who seemed to take pleasure in making my fields rich and fertile. + Little by little, by following the new methods of agriculture, I became + one of the wealthiest landowners in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + We had purchased the oak-tree walk and the meadows bordering on the river, + at the death of my wife’s parents. I had had a modest house built on + this land, but we were soon obliged to enlarge it; each year I found a + means of rounding off our property by the addition of some neighbouring + field, and our granaries were too small for our harvests. + </p> + <p> + Those first fifteen years were uneventful and happy. They passed away in + serene joy, and all they have left within me is the remembrance of calm + and continued happiness. My uncle Lazare, on retiring to our home, had + realised his dream; his advanced age did not permit of his reading his + breviary of a morning; he sometimes regretted his dear church, but + consoled himself by visiting the young vicar who had succeeded him. He + came down from the little room he occupied at sunrise, and often + accompanied me to the fields, enjoying himself in the open air, and + finding a second youth amidst the healthy atmosphere of the country. + </p> + <p> + One sadness alone made us sometimes sigh. Amidst the fruitfulness by which + we were surrounded, Babet remained childless. Although we were three to + love one another we sometimes found ourselves too much alone; we would + have liked to have had a little fair head running about amongst us, who + would have tormented and caressed us. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Lazare had a frightful dread of dying before he was a great-uncle. + He had become a child again, and felt sorrowful that Babet did not give + him a comrade who would have played with him. On the day when my wife + confided to us with hesitation, that we would no doubt soon be four, I saw + my uncle turn quite pale, and make efforts not to cry. He kissed us, + thinking already of the christening, and speaking of the child as if it + were already three or four years old. + </p> + <p> + And the months passed in concentrated tenderness. We talked together in + subdued voices, awaiting some one. I no longer loved Babet: I worshipped + her with joined hands; I worshipped her for two, for herself and the + little one. + </p> + <p> + The great day was drawing nigh. I had brought a midwife from Grenoble who + never moved from the farm. My uncle was in a dreadful fright; he + understood nothing about such things; he went so far as to tell me that he + had done wrong in taking holy orders, and that he was very sorry he was + not a doctor. + </p> + <p> + One morning in September, at about six o’clock, I went into the room + of my dear Babet, who was still asleep. Her smiling face was peacefully + reposing on the white linen pillow-case. I bent over her, holding my + breath. Heaven had blessed me with the good things of this world. I all at + once thought of that summer day when I was moaning in the dust, and at the + same time I felt around me the comfort due to labour and the quietude that + comes from happiness. My good wife was asleep, all rosy, in the middle of + her great bed; whilst the whole room recalled to me our fifteen years of + tender affection. + </p> + <p> + I kissed Babet softly on the lips. She opened her eyes and smiled at me + without speaking. I felt an almost uncontrollable desire to take her in my + arms, and clasp her to my heart; but, latterly, I had hardly dared press + her hand, she seemed so fragile and sacred to me. + </p> + <p> + I seated myself at the edge of the bed, and asked her in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Is it for to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t think so,” she replied. “I dreamt I + had a boy: he was already very tall and wore adorable little black + moustachios. Uncle Lazare told me yesterday that he also had seen him in a + dream.” + </p> + <p> + I acted very stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “I know the child better than you do,” I said. “I see it + every night. It’s a girl——” + </p> + <p> + And as Babet turned her face to the wall, ready to cry, I realised how + foolish I had been, and hastened to add: + </p> + <p> + “When I say a girl—I am not quite sure. I see a very small + child with a long white gown.—it’s certainly a boy.” + </p> + <p> + Babet kissed me for that pleasing remark. + </p> + <p> + “Go and look after the vintage,” she continued, “I feel + calm this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You will send for me if anything happens?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I am very tired: I shall go to sleep again. You’ll + not be angry with me for my laziness?” + </p> + <p> + And Babet closed her eyes, looking languid and affected. I remained + leaning over her, receiving the warm breath from her lips in my face. She + gradually went off to sleep, without ceasing to smile. Then I disengaged + my hand from hers with a multitude of precautions. I had to manoeuvre for + five minutes to bring this delicate task to a happy issue. After that I + gave her a kiss on her forehead, which she did not feel, and withdrew with + a palpitating heart, overflowing with love. + </p> + <p> + In the courtyard below, I found my uncle Lazare, who was gazing anxiously + at the window of Babet’s room. So soon as he perceived me he + inquired: + </p> + <p> + “Well, is it for to-day?” + </p> + <p> + He had been putting this question to me regularly every morning for the + past month. + </p> + <p> + “It appears not,” I answered him. “Will you come with me + and see them picking the grapes?” + </p> + <p> + He fetched his stick, and we went down the oak-tree walk. When we were at + the end of it, on that terrace which overlooks the Durance, both of us + stopped, gazing at the valley. + </p> + <p> + Small white clouds floated in the pale sky. The sun was shedding soft + rays, which cast a sort of gold dust over the country, the yellow expanse + of which spread out all ripe. One saw neither the brilliant light nor the + dark shadows of summer. The foliage gilded the black earth in large + patches. The river ran more slowly, weary at the task of having rendered + the fields fruitful for a season. And the valley remained calm and strong. + It already wore the first furrows of winter, but it preserved within it + the warmth of its last labour, displaying its robust charms, free from the + weeds of spring, more majestically beautiful, like that second youth, of + woman who has given birth to life. + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare remained silent; then, turning towards me, said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, Jean? It is more than twenty years ago since I + brought you here early one May morning. On that particular day I showed + you the valley full of feverish activity, labouring for the fruits of + autumn. Look; the valley has just performed its task again.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, dear uncle,” I replied. “I was quaking with + fear on that day; but you were good, and your lesson was convincing. I owe + you all my happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have reached the autumn. You have laboured and are + gathering in the harvest. Man, my boy, was created after the way of the + earth. And we, like the common mother, are eternal: the green leaves are + born again each year from dry leaves; I am born again in you, and you will + be born again in your children. I am telling you this so that old age may + not alarm you, so that you may know how to die in peace, as dies this + verdure, which will shoot out again from its own germs next spring.” + </p> + <p> + I listened to my uncle and thought of Babet, who was sleeping in her great + bed spread with white linen. The dear creature was about to give birth to + a child after the manner of this fertile soil which had given us fortune. + She also had reached the autumn: she had the beaming smile and serene + robustness of the valley. I seemed to see her beneath the yellow sun, + tired and happy, experiencing noble delight at being a mother. And I no + longer knew whether my uncle Lazare was talking to me of my dear valley, + or of my dear Babet. + </p> + <p> + We slowly ascended the hills. Below, along the Durance, were the meadows, + broad, raw green swards; next came the yellow fields, intersected here and + there by greyish olive and slender almond trees, planted wide apart in + rows; then, right up above, were the vines, great stumps with shoots + trailing along the ground. + </p> + <p> + The vine is treated in the south of France like a hardy housewife, and not + like a delicate young lady, as in the north. It grows somewhat as it + likes, according to the good will of rain and sun. The stumps, which are + planted in double rows, and form long lines, throw sprays of dark verdure + around them. Wheat or oats are sown between. A vineyard resembles an + immense piece of striped material, made of the green bands formed by the + vine leaves, and of yellow ribbon represented by the stubble. + </p> + <p> + Men and women stooping down among the vines, were cutting the bunches of + grapes, which they then threw to the bottom of large baskets. My uncle and + I walked slowly through the stubble. As we passed along, the vintagers + turned their heads and greeted us. My uncle sometimes stopped to speak to + some of the oldest of the labourers. + </p> + <p> + “Heh! Father André,” he said, “are the grapes thoroughly + ripe? Will the wine be good this year?” + </p> + <p> + And the countryfolk, raising their bare arms, displayed the long bunches, + which were as black as ink, in the sun; and when the grapes were pressed + they seemed to burst with abundance and strength. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Mr. Curé,” they exclaimed, “these are small ones. + There are some weighing several pounds. We have not had such a task these + ten years.” + </p> + <p> + Then they returned among the leaves. Their brown jackets formed patches in + the verdure. And the women, bareheaded, with small blue handkerchiefs + round their necks, were stooping down singing. There were children rolling + in the sun, in the stubble, giving utterance to shrill laughter and + enlivening this open-air workshop with their turbulency. Large carts + remained motionless at the edge of the field waiting for the grapes; they + stood out prominently against the clear sky, whilst men went and came + unceasingly, carrying away full baskets, and bringing back empty ones. + </p> + <p> + I confess that in the centre of this field, I had feelings of pride. I + heard the ground producing beneath my feet; ripe age ran all powerful in + the veins of the vine, and loaded the air with great puffs of it. Hot + blood coursed in my flesh, I was as if elevated by the fecundity + overflowing from the soil and ascending within me. The labour of this + swarm of work-people was my doing, these vines were my children; this + entire farm became my large and obedient family. I experienced pleasure in + feeling my feet sink into the heavy land. + </p> + <p> + Then, at a glance, I took in the fields that sloped down to the Durance, + and I was the possessor of those vines, those meadows, that stubble, those + olive-trees. The house stood all white beside the oak-tree walk; the river + seemed like a fringe of silver placed at the edge of the great green + mantle of my pasture-land. I fancied, for a moment, that my frame was + increasing in size, that by stretching out my arms, I would be able to + embrace the entire property, and press it to my breast, trees, meadows, + house, and ploughed land. + </p> + <p> + And as I looked, I saw one of our servant-girls racing, out of breath, up + the narrow pathway that ascended the hill. Confused by the speed at which + she was travelling, she stumbled over the stones, agitating both her arms, + and hailing us with gestures of bewilderment. I felt choking with + inexpressible emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle, uncle,” I shouted, “look how Marguerite’s + running. I think it must be for to-day.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare turned quite pale. The servant had at length reached the + plateau; she came towards us jumping over the vines. When she reached me, + she was out of breath; she was stifling and pressing her hands to her + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” I said to her. “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + She heaved a heavy sigh, agitated her hands, and finally was able to + pronounce this single word: + </p> + <p> + “Madame——” + </p> + <p> + I waited for no more. + </p> + <p> + “Come! come quick, uncle Lazare! Ah! my poor dear Babet!” + </p> + <p> + And I bounded down the pathway at a pace fit to break my bones. The + vintagers, who had stood up, smiled as they saw me running. Uncle Lazare, + who could not overtake me, shook his walking stick in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Heh! Jean, the deuce!” he shouted, “wait for me. I don’t + want to be the last.” + </p> + <p> + But I no longer heard Uncle Lazare, and continued running. + </p> + <p> + I reached the farm panting for breath, full of hope and terror. I rushed + upstairs and knocked with my fist at Babet’s door, laughing, crying, + and half crazy. The midwife set the door ajar, to tell me in an angry + voice not to make so much noise. I stood there abashed and in despair. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t come in,” she added. “Go and wait in + the courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + And as I did not move, she continued: “All is going on very well. I + will call you.” + </p> + <p> + The door was closed. I remained standing before it, unable to make up my + mind to go away. I heard Babet complaining in a broken voice. And, while I + was there, she gave utterance to a heartrending scream that struck me + right in the breast like a bullet. I felt an almost irresistible desire to + break the door open with my shoulder. So as not to give way to it, I + placed my hands to my ears, and dashed downstairs. + </p> + <p> + In the courtyard I found my uncle Lazare, who had just arrived out of + breath. The worthy man was obliged to seat himself on the brink of the + well. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo! where is the child?” he inquired of me. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” I answered; “they shut the door in + my face—Babet is in pain and in tears.” We gazed at one + another, not daring to utter a word. We listened in agony, without taking + our eyes off Babet’s window, endeavouring to see through the little + white curtains. My uncle, who was trembling, stood still, with both his + hands resting heavily on his walking-stick; I, feeling very feverish, + walked up and down before him, taking long strides. At times we exchanged + anxious smiles. + </p> + <p> + The carts of the vintagers arrived one by one. The baskets of grapes were + placed against a wall of the courtyard, and bare-legged men trampled the + bunches under foot in wooden troughs. The mules neighed, the carters + swore, whilst the wine fell with a dull sound to the bottom of the vat. + Acrid smells pervaded the warm air. + </p> + <p> + And I continued pacing up and down, as if made tipsy by those perfumes. My + poor head was breaking, and as I watched the red juice run from the grapes + I thought of Babet. I said to myself with manly joy, that my child was + born at the prolific time of vintage, amidst the perfume of new wine. + </p> + <p> + I was tormented by impatience, I went upstairs again. But I did not dare + knock, I pressed my ear against the door, and heard Babet’s low + moans and sobs. Then my heart failed me, and I cursed suffering. Uncle + Lazare, who had crept up behind me, had to lead me back into the + courtyard. He wished to divert me, and told me the wine would be + excellent; but he spoke without attending to what he said. And at times we + were both silent, listening anxiously to one of Babet’s more + prolonged moans. + </p> + <p> + Little by little the cries subsided, and became nothing more than a + painful murmur, like the voice of a child falling off to sleep in tears. + Then there was absolute silence. This soon caused me unutterable terror. + The house seemed empty, now that Babet had ceased sobbing. I was just + going upstairs, when the midwife opened the window noiselessly. She leant + out and beckoned me with her hand: + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said to me. + </p> + <p> + I went slowly upstairs, feeling additional delight at each step I took. My + uncle Lazare was already knocking at the door, whilst I was only half way + up to the landing, experiencing a sort of strange delight in delaying the + moment when I would kiss my wife. + </p> + <p> + I stopped on the threshold, my heart was beating double. My uncle had + leant over the cradle. Babet, quite pale, with closed eyelids, seemed + asleep. I forgot all about the child, and going straight to Babet, took + her dear hand between mine. The tears had not dried on her checks, and her + quivering lips were dripping with them. She raised her eyelids wearily. + She did not speak to me, but I understood her to say: “I have + suffered a great deal, my dear Jean, but I was so happy to suffer! I felt + you within me.” + </p> + <p> + Then I bent down, I kissed Babet’s eyes and drank her tears. She + laughed with much sweetness; she resigned herself with caressing + languidness. The fatigue had made her all aches and pains. She slowly + moved her hands from the sheet, and taking me by the neck placed her lips + to my ear: + </p> + <p> + “It’s a boy,” she murmured in a weak voice, but with an + air of triumph. + </p> + <p> + Those were the first words she uttered after the terrible shock she had + undergone. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it would be a boy,” she continued, “I saw the + child every night. Give him me, put him beside me.” + </p> + <p> + I turned round and saw the midwife and my uncle quarrelling. + </p> + <p> + The midwife had all the trouble in the world to prevent uncle Lazare + taking the little one in his arms. He wanted to nurse it. + </p> + <p> + I looked at the child whom the mother had made me forget. He was all rosy. + Babet said with conviction that he was like me; the midwife discovered + that he had his mother’s eyes; I, for my part, could not say, I was + almost crying, I smothered the dear little thing with kisses, imagining I + was still kissing Babet. + </p> + <p> + I placed the child on the bed. He kept on crying, but this sounded to us + like celestial music. I sat on the edge of the bed, my uncle took a large + arm-chair, and Babet, weary and serene, covered up to her chin, remained + with open eyelids and smiling eyes. + </p> + <p> + The window was wide open. The smell of grapes came in along with the + warmth of the mild autumn afternoon. One heard the trampling of the + vintagers, the shocks of the carts, the cracking of whips; at times the + shrill song of a servant working in the courtyard reached us. All this + noise was softened in the serenity of that room, which still resounded + with Babet’s sobs. And the window-frame enclosed a large strip of + landscape, carved out of the heavens and open country. We could see the + oak-tree walk in its entire length; then the Durance, looking like a white + satin ribbon, passed amidst the gold and purple leaves; whilst above this + square of ground were the limpid depths of a pale sky with blue and rosy + tints. + </p> + <p> + It was amidst the calm of this horizon, amidst the exhalations of the vat + and the joys attendant upon labour and reproduction, that we three talked + together, Babet, uncle Lazare, and myself, whilst gazing at the dear + little new-born babe. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Lazare,” said Babet, “what name will you give the + child?” + </p> + <p> + “Jean’s mother was named Jacqueline,” answered my uncle. + “I shall call the child Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, Jacques,” repeated Babet. “Yes, it’s a + pretty name. And, tell me, what shall we make the little man: parson or + soldier, gentleman or peasant?” + </p> + <p> + I began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have time to think of that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But no,” continued Babet almost angry, “he will grow + rapidly. See how strong he is. He already speaks with his eyes.” + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare was exactly of my wife’s opinion. He answered in a + very grave tone: + </p> + <p> + “Make him neither priest nor soldier, unless he have an irresistible + inclination for one of those callings—to make him a gentleman would + be a serious——” + </p> + <p> + Babet looked at me anxiously. The dear creature had not a bit of pride for + herself; but, like all mothers, she would have liked to be humble and + proud before her son. I could have sworn that she already saw him a notary + or a doctor. I kissed her and gently said to her: + </p> + <p> + “I wish our son to live in our dear valley. One day, he will find a + Babet of sixteen, on the banks of the Durance, to whom he will give some + water. Do you remember, my dear——? The country has brought us + peace: our son shall be a peasant as we are, and happy as we are.” + </p> + <p> + Babet, who was quite touched, kissed me in her turn. She gazed at the + foliage and the river, the meadows and the sky, through the window; then + she said to me, smiling: + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Jean. This place has been good to us, it will be the + same to our little Jacques. Uncle Lazare, you will be the godfather of a + farmer.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Lazare made a languid, affectionate sign of approval with the head. + I had been examining him for a moment, and saw his eyes becoming filmy, + and his lips turning pale. Leaning back in the arm-chair, opposite the + window, he had placed his white hands on his knees, and was watching the + heavens fixedly with an expression of thoughtful ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + I felt very anxious. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in pain, uncle Lazare?” I inquired of him, “What + is the matter with you? Answer, for mercy’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + He gently raised one of his hands, as if to beg me to speak lower; then he + let it fall again, and said in a weak voice: + </p> + <p> + “I am broken down,” he said. “Happiness, at my age, is + mortal. Don’t make a noise. It seems as if my flesh were becoming + quite light: I can no longer feel my legs or arms.” + </p> + <p> + Babet raised herself in alarm, with her eyes on uncle Lazare. I knelt down + before him, watching him anxiously. He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be frightened,” he resumed. “I am in no + pain; a feeling of calmness is gaining possession of me; I believe I am + going off into a good and just sleep. It came over me all at once, and I + thank the Almighty. Ah! my poor Jean, I ran too fast down, the pathway on + the hillside; the child caused me too great joy.” + </p> + <p> + And as we understood, we burst out into tears. Uncle Lazare continued, + without ceasing to watch the sky: + </p> + <p> + “Do not spoil my joy, I beg of you. If you only knew how happy it + makes me, to fall asleep for ever in this armchair! I have never dared + expect such a consoling death. All I love is here, beside me—and see + what a blue sky! The Almighty has sent a lovely evening.” + </p> + <p> + The sun was sinking behind the oak-tree walk. Its slanting rays cast + sheets of gold beneath the trees, which took the tones of old copper. The + verdant fields melted into vague serenity in the distance. Uncle Lazare + became weaker and weaker amidst the touching silence of this peaceful + sunset, entering by the open window. He slowly passed away, like those + slight gleams that were dying out on the lofty branches. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my good valley,” he murmured, “you are sending me a + tender farewell. I was afraid of coming to my end in the winter, when you + would be all black.” + </p> + <p> + We restrained our tears, not wishing to trouble this saintly death. Babet + prayed in an undertone. The child continued uttering smothered cries. + </p> + <p> + My uncle Lazare heard its wail in the dreaminess of his agony. He + endeavoured to turn towards Babet, and, still smiling, said: + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the child and die very happy.” + </p> + <p> + Then he gazed at the pale sky and yellow fields, and, throwing back his + head, heaved a gentle sigh. + </p> + <p> + No tremor agitated uncle Lazare’s body; he died as one falls asleep. + </p> + <p> + We had become so calm that we remained silent and with dry eyes. In the + presence of such great simplicity in death, all we experienced was a + feeling of serene sadness. Twilight had set in, uncle Lazare’s + farewell had left us confident, like the farewell of the sun which dies at + night to be born again in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Such was my autumn day, which gave me a son, and carried off my uncle + Lazare in the peacefulness of the twilight. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <h3> + WINTER + </h3> + <p> + There are dreadful mornings in January that chill one’s heart. I + awoke on this particular day with a vague feeling of anxiety. It had + thawed during the night, and when I cast my eyes over the country from the + threshold, it looked to me like an immense dirty grey rag, soiled with mud + and rent to tatters. + </p> + <p> + The horizon was shrouded in a curtain of fog, in which the oak-trees along + the walk lugubriously extended their dark arms, like a row of spectres + guarding the vast mass of vapour spreading out behind them. The fields had + sunk, and were covered with great sheets of water, at the edge of which + hung the remnants of dirty snow. The loud roar of the Durance was + increasing in the distance. + </p> + <p> + Winter imparts health and strength to one’s frame when the sun is + clear and the ground dry. The air makes the tips of your ears tingle, you + walk merrily along the frozen pathways, which ring with a silvery sound + beneath your tread. But I know of nothing more saddening than dull, + thawing weather: I hate the damp fogs which weigh one’s shoulders + down. + </p> + <p> + I shivered in the presence of that copper-like sky, and hastened to retire + indoors, making up my mind that I would not go out into the fields that + day. There was plenty of work in and around the farm-buildings. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had been up a long time. I heard him whistling in a shed, where he + was helping some men remove sacks of corn. The boy was already eighteen + years old; he was a tall fellow, with strong arms. He had not had an uncle + Lazare to spoil him and teach him Latin, and he did not go and dream + beneath the willows at the riverside. Jacques had become a real peasant, + an untiring worker, who got angry when I touched anything, telling me I + was getting old and ought to rest. + </p> + <p> + And as I was watching him from a distance, a sweet lithe creature, leaping + on my shoulders, clapped her little hands to my eyes, inquiring: + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed and answered: + </p> + <p> + “It’s little Marie, who has just been dressed by her mamma.” + </p> + <p> + The dear little girl was completing her tenth year, and for ten years she + had been the delight of the farm. Having come the last, at a time when we + could no longer hope to have any more children, she was doubly loved. Her + precarious health made her particularly dear to us. She was treated as a + young lady; her mother absolutely wanted to make a lady of her, and I had + not the heart to oppose her wish, so little Marie was a pet, in lovely + silk skirts trimmed with ribbons. + </p> + <p> + Marie was still seated on my shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma, mamma,” she cried, “come and look; I’m + playing at horses.” + </p> + <p> + Babet, who was entering, smiled. Ah! my poor Babet, how old we were! I + remember we were shivering with weariness, on that day, gazing sadly at + one another when alone. + </p> + <p> + Our children brought back our youth. + </p> + <p> + Lunch was eaten in silence. We had been compelled to light the lamp. The + reddish glimmer that hung round the room was sad enough to drive one + crazy. + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” said Jacques, “this tepid rainy weather is better + than intense cold that would freeze our vines and olives.” + </p> + <p> + And he tried to joke. But he was as anxious as we were, without knowing + why. Babet had had bad dreams. We listened to the account of her + nightmare, laughing with our lips but sad at heart. + </p> + <p> + “This weather quite upsets one,” I said to cheer us all up. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, it’s the weather,” Jacques hastened to add. + “I’ll put some vine branches on the fire.” + </p> + <p> + There was a bright flame which cast large sheets of light upon the walls. + The branches burnt with a cracking sound, leaving rosy ashes. We had + seated ourselves in front of the chimney; the air, outside, was tepid; but + great drops of icy cold damp fell from the ceilings inside the farmhouse. + Babet had taken little Marie on her knees; she was talking to her in an + undertone, amused at her childish chatter. + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming, father?” Jacques inquired of me. “We + are going to look at the cellars and lofts.” + </p> + <p> + I went out with him. The harvests had been getting bad for some years + past. We were suffering great losses: our vines and trees were caught by + frost, whilst hail had chopped up our wheat and oats. And I sometimes said + that I was growing old, and that fortune, who is a woman, does not care + for old men. Jacques laughed, answering that he was young, and was going + to court fortune. + </p> + <p> + I had reached the winter, the cold season. I felt distinctly that all was + withering around me. At each pleasure that departed, I thought of uncle + Lazare, who had died so calmly; and with fond remembrances of him, asked + for strength. + </p> + <p> + Daylight had completely disappeared at three o’clock. We went down + into the common room. Babet was sewing in the chimney corner, with her + head bent over her work; and little Marie was seated on the ground, in + front of the fire, gravely dressing a doll. Jacques and I had placed + ourselves at a mahogany writing-table, which had come to us from uncle + Lazare, and were engaged in checking our accounts. + </p> + <p> + The window was as if blocked up; the fog, sticking to the panes of glass, + formed a perfect wall of gloom. Behind this wall stretched emptiness, the + unknown. A great noise, a loud roar, alone arose in the silence and spread + through the obscurity. + </p> + <p> + We had dismissed the workpeople, keeping only our old woman-servant, + Marguerite, with us. When I raised my head and listened, it seemed to me + that the farmhouse hung suspended in the middle of a chasm. No human sound + came from the outside. I heard naught but the riot of the abyss. Then I + gazed at my wife and children, and experienced the cowardice of those old + people who feel themselves too weak to protect those surrounding them + against unknown peril. + </p> + <p> + The noise became harsher, and it seemed to us that there was a knocking at + the door. At the same instant, the horses in the stable began to neigh + furiously, whilst the cattle lowed as if choking. We had all risen, pale + with anxiety, Jacques dashed to the door and threw it wide open. + </p> + <p> + A wave of muddy water burst into the room. + </p> + <p> + The Durance was overflowing. It was it that had been making the noise, + that had been increasing in the distance since morning. The snow melting + on the mountains had transformed each hillside into a torrent which had + swelled the river. The curtain of fog had hidden from us this sudden rise + of water. + </p> + <p> + It had often advanced thus to the gates of the farm, when the thaw came + after severe winters. But the flood had never increased so rapidly. We + could see through the open door that the courtyard was transformed into a + lake. The water already reached our ankles. + </p> + <p> + Babet had caught up little Marie, who was crying and clasping her doll to + her. Jacques wanted to run and open the doors of the stables and + cowhouses; but his mother held him back by his clothes, begging him not to + go out. The water continued rising. I pushed Babet towards the staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, quick, let us go up into the bedrooms,” I cried. + </p> + <p> + And I obliged Jacques to pass before me. I left the ground-floor the last. + </p> + <p> + Marguerite came down in terror from the loft where she happened to find + herself. I made her sit down at the end of the room beside Babet, who + remained silent, pale, and with beseeching eyes. We put little Marie into + bed; she had insisted on keeping her doll, and went quietly to sleep + pressing it in her arms. This child’s sleep relieved me; when I + turned round and saw Babet, listening to the little girl’s regular + breathing, I forgot the danger, all I heard was the water beating against + the walls. + </p> + <p> + But Jacques and I could not help looking the peril in the face. Anxiety + made us endeavour to discover the progress of the inundation. We had + thrown the window wide open, we leant out at the risk of falling, + searching into the darkness. The fog, which was thicker, hung above the + flood, throwing out fine rain which gave us the shivers. Vague steel-like + flashes were all that showed the moving sheet of water, amidst the + profound obscurity. Below, it was splashing in the courtyard, rising along + the walls in gentle undulations. And we still heard naught but the anger + of the Durance, and the affrighted cattle and horses. + </p> + <p> + The neighing and lowing of these poor beasts pierced me to the heart. + Jacques questioned me with his eyes; he would have liked to try and + deliver them. Their agonising moans soon became lamentable, and a great + cracking sound was heard. The oxen had just broken down the stable doors. + We saw them pass before us, borne away by the flood, rolled over and over + in the current. And they disappeared amid the roar of the river. + </p> + <p> + Then I felt choking with anger. I became as one possessed, I shook my fist + at the Durance. Erect, facing the window, I insulted it. + </p> + <p> + “Wicked thing!” I shouted amidst the tumult of the waters, + “I loved you fondly, you were my first sweetheart, and now you are + plundering me. You come and disturb my farm, and carry off my cattle. Ah! + cursed, cursed thing.——Then you gave me Babet, you ran gently + at the edge of my meadows. I took you for a good mother. I remembered + uncle Lazare felt affection for your limpid stream, and I thought I owed + you gratitude. You are a barbarous mother, I only owe you my hatred——” + </p> + <p> + But the Durance stifled my cries with its thundering voice; and, broad and + indifferent, expanded and drove its flood onward with tranquil obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + I turned back to the room and went and kissed Babet, who was weeping. + Little Marie was smiling in her sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid,” I said to my wife. “The water + cannot always rise. It will certainly go down. There is no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “No, there is no danger,” Jacques repeated feverishly. “The + house is solid.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment Marguerite, who had approached the window, tormented by + that feeling of curiosity which is the outcome of fear, leant forward like + a mad thing and fell, uttering a cry. I threw myself before the window, + but could not prevent Jacques plunging into the water. Marguerite had + nursed him, and he felt the tenderness of a son for the poor old woman. + Babet had risen in terror, with joined hands, at the sound of the two + splashes. She remained there, erect, with open mouth and distended eyes, + watching the window. + </p> + <p> + I had seated myself on the wooden handrail, and my ears were ringing with + the roar of the flood. I do not know how long it was that Babet and I were + in this painful state of stupor, when a voice called to me. It was Jacques + who was holding on to the wall beneath the window. I stretched out my hand + to him, and he clambered up. + </p> + <p> + Babet clasped him in her arms. She could sob now; and she relieved + herself. + </p> + <p> + No reference was made to Marguerite. Jacques did not dare say he had been + unable to find her, and we did not dare question him anent his search. + </p> + <p> + He took me apart and brought me back to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he said to me in an undertone, “there are more + than seven feet of water in the courtyard, and the river is still rising. + We cannot remain here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was right. The house was falling to pieces, the planks of the + outbuildings were going away one by one. Then this death of Marguerite + weighed upon us. Babet, bewildered, was beseeching us. Marie alone + remained peaceful in the big bed with her doll between her arms, and + slumbering with the happy smile of an angel. + </p> + <p> + The peril increased at every minute. The water was on the point of + reaching the handrail of the window and pouring into the room. Any one + would have said that it was an engine of war making the farmhouse totter + with regular, dull, hard blows. The current must be running right against + the facade, and we could not hope for any human assistance. + </p> + <p> + “Every minute is precious,” said Jacques in agony. “We + shall be crushed beneath the ruins. Let us look for boards, let us make a + raft.” + </p> + <p> + He said that in his excitement. I would naturally have preferred a + thousand times to be in the middle of the river, on a few beams lashed + together, than beneath the roof of this house which was about to fall in. + But where could we lay hands on the beams we required? In a rage I tore + the planks from the cupboards, Jacques broke the furniture, we took away + the shutters, every piece of wood we could reach. And feeling it was + impossible to utilise these fragments, we cast them into the middle of the + room in a fury, and continued searching. + </p> + <p> + Our last hope was departing, we understood our misery and want of power. + The water was rising; the harsh voice of the Durance was calling to us in + anger. Then, I burst out sobbing, I took Babet in my trembling arms, I + begged Jacques to come near us. I wished us all to die in the same + embrace. + </p> + <p> + Jacques had returned to the window. And, suddenly, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Father, we are saved!—Come and see.” + </p> + <p> + The sky was clear. The roof of a shed, torn away by the current, had come + to a standstill beneath our window. This roof, which was several yards + broad, was formed of light beams and thatch; it floated, and would make a + capital raft, I joined my hands together and would have worshipped this + wood and straw. + </p> + <p> + Jacques jumped on the roof, after having firmly secured it. He walked on + the thatch, making sure it was everywhere strong. The thatch resisted; + therefore we could adventure on it without fear. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it will carry us all very well,” said Jacques joyfully. + “See how little it sinks into the water! The difficulty will be to + steer it.” + </p> + <p> + He looked around him and seized two poles drifting along in the current, + as they passed by. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! here are oars,” he continued. “You will go to the + stern, father, and I forward, and we will manoeuvre the raft easily. There + are not twelve feet of water. Quick, quick! get on board, we must not lose + a minute.” + </p> + <p> + My poor Babet tried to smile. She wrapped little Marie carefully up in her + shawl; the child had just woke up, and, quite alarmed, maintained a + silence which was broken by deep sobs. I placed a chair before the window + and made Babet get on the raft. As I held her in my arms I kissed her with + poignant emotion, feeling this kiss was the last. + </p> + <p> + The water was beginning to pour into the room. Our feet were soaking. I + was the last to embark; then I undid the cord. The current hurled us + against the wall; it required precautions and many efforts to quit the + farmhouse. + </p> + <p> + The fog had little by little dispersed. It was about midnight when we + left. The stars were still buried in mist; the moon which was almost at + the edge of the horizon, lit up the night with a sort of wan daylight. + </p> + <p> + The inundation then appeared to us in all its grandiose horror. The valley + had become a river. The Durance, swollen to enormous proportions and + washing the two hillsides, passed between dark masses of cultivated land, + and was the sole thing displaying life in the inanimate space bounded by + the horizon. It thundered with a sovereign voice, maintaining in its anger + the majesty of its colossal wave. Clumps of trees emerged in places, + staining the sheet of pale water with black streaks. Opposite us I + recognised the tops of the oaks along the walk; the current carried us + towards these branches, which for us were so many reefs. Around the raft + floated various kinds of remains, pieces of wood, empty barrels, bundles + of grass; the river was bearing along the ruins it had made in its anger. + </p> + <p> + To the left we perceived the lights of Dourgues—flashes of lanterns + moving about in the darkness. The water could not have risen as high as + the village; only the low land had been submerged. No doubt assistance + would come. We searched the patches of light hanging over the water; it + seemed to us at every instant that we heard the sound of oars. + </p> + <p> + We had started at random. As soon as the raft was in the middle of the + current, lost amidst the whirlpools of the river, anguish of mind overtook + us again; we almost regretted having left the farm. I sometimes turned + round and gazed at the house, which still remained standing, presenting a + grey aspect on the white water. Babet, crouching down in the centre of the + raft, in the thatch of the roof, was holding little Marie on her knees, + the child’s head against her breast, to hide the horror of the river + from her. Both were bent double, leaning forward in an embrace, as if + reduced in stature by fear. Jacques, standing upright in the front, was + leaning on his pole with all his weight; from time to time he cast a rapid + glance towards us, and then silently resumed his task. I seconded him as + well as I could, but our efforts to reach the bank remained fruitless. + Little by little, notwithstanding our poles, which we buried into the mud + until we nearly broke them, we drifted into the open; a force that seemed + to come from the depths of the water drove us away. The Durance was slowly + taking possession of us. + </p> + <p> + Struggling, bathed in perspiration, we had worked ourselves into a + passion; we were fighting with the river as with a living being, seeking + to vanquish, wound, kill it. It strained us in its giant-like arms, and + our poles in our hands became weapons which we thrust into its breast. It + roared, flung its slaver into our faces, wriggled beneath our strokes. We + resisted its victory with clenched teeth. We would not be conquered. And + we had mad impulses to fell the monster, to calm it with blows from our + fists. + </p> + <p> + We went slowly towards the offing. We were already at the entrance to the + oak-tree walk. The dark branches pierced through the water, which they + tore with a lamentable sound. Death, perhaps, awaited us there in a + collision. I cried out to Jacques to follow the walk by clinging close to + the branches. And it was thus that I passed for the last time in the + middle of this oak-tree alley, where I had walked in my youth and ripe + age. In the terrible darkness, above the howling depth, I thought of uncle + Lazare, and saw the happy days of my youth smiling at me sadly. + </p> + <p> + The Durance triumphed at the end of the alley. Our poles no longer touched + the bottom. The water bore us along in its impetuous bound of victory. And + now it could do what it pleased with us. We gave ourselves up. We went + downstream with frightful rapidity. Great clouds, dirty tattered rags hung + about the sky; when the moon was hidden there came lugubrious obscurity. + Then we rolled in chaos. Enormous billows as black as ink, resembling the + backs of fish, bore us along, spinning us round. I could no longer see + either Babet or the children. I already felt myself dying. + </p> + <p> + I know not how long this last run lasted. The moon was suddenly unveiled, + and the horizon became clear. And in that light I perceived an immense + black mass in front of us which blocked the way, and towards which we were + being carried with all the violence of the current. We were lost, we would + be broken there. + </p> + <p> + Babet had stood upright. She held out little Marie to me: + </p> + <p> + “Take the child,” she exclaimed. “Leave me alone, leave + me alone!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques had already caught Babet in his arms. In a loud voice he said: + </p> + <p> + “Father, save the little one—I will save mother.” + </p> + <p> + We had come close to the black mass. I thought I recognised a tree. The + shock was terrible, and the raft, split in two, scattered its straw and + beams in the whirlpool of water. + </p> + <p> + I fell, clasping little Marie tightly to me. The icy cold water brought + back all my courage. On rising to the surface of the river, I supported + the child, I half laid her on my neck and began to swim laboriously. If + the little creature had not lost consciousness but had struggled, we + should both have remained at the bottom of the deep. + </p> + <p> + And, whilst I swam, I felt choking with anxiety. I called Jacques, I tried + to see in the distance; but I heard nothing save the roar of the waters, I + saw naught but the pale sheet of the Durance. Jacques and Babet were at + the bottom. She must have clung to him, dragged him down in a deadly + strain of her arms. What frightful agony! I wanted to die; I sunk slowly, + I was going to find them beneath the black water. And as soon as the flood + touched little Marie’s face, I struggled again with impetuous + anguish to get near the waterside. + </p> + <p> + It was thus that I abandoned Babet and Jacques, in despair at having been + unable to die with them, still calling out to them in a husky voice. The + river cast me on the stones, like one of those bundles of grass it leaves + on its way. When I came to myself again, I took my daughter, who was + opening her eyes, in my arms. Day was breaking. My winter night was at an + end, that terrible night which had been an accomplice in the murder of my + wife and son. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, after years of regret, one last consolation remains to me. + I am the icy winter, but I feel the approaching spring stirring within me. + As my uncle Lazare said, we never die. I have had four seasons, and here I + am returning to the spring, there is my dear Marie commencing the + everlasting joys and sorrows over again. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BARON DE TRENCK By Clemence Robert + </h2> + <p> + Baron de Trenck already had endured a year of arbitrary imprisonment in + the fortress of Glatz, ignorant alike of the cause of his detention or the + length of time which he was destined to spend in captivity. + </p> + <p> + During the early part of the month of September, Major Doo, aide to the + governor of the prison of Glatz, entered the prisoner’s apartment + for a domiciliary visit, accompanied by an adjutant and the officer of the + guard. + </p> + <p> + It was noon. The excessive heat of the dying summer had grown almost + unsupportable in the tower chamber where Baron de Trenck was confined. + Half empty flagons were scattered among the books which littered his + table, but the repeated draughts in which the prisoner had sought + refreshment had only served to add to his ever-increasing exasperation. + </p> + <p> + The major ransacked every nook and corner of the prisoner’s chamber + and the interior of such pieces of furniture as might afford a possible + hiding-place. Remarking the annoyance which this investigation caused the + baron, Doo said arrogantly: + </p> + <p> + “The general has issued his orders, and it is a matter of little + consequence to him whether or not they displease you. Your attempts to + escape have greatly incensed him against you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” retorted Trenck, with like hauteur, “am equally + indifferent to your general’s displeasure. I shall continue to + dispose of my time as may best please me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” replied the major, “but in your own interests + you would be wiser to philosophize with your books, and seek the key to + the sciences, rather than that of the fortress.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not need your advice, major,” the baron observed, with + sovereign disdain. + </p> + <p> + “You may perhaps repent later that you did not heed it. Your + attempts to escape have angered even the king, and it is impossible to say + just how far his severity toward you may go.” + </p> + <p> + “But, great heavens! when I am deprived of my liberty without cause, + have I not the right to endeavor to regain it?” + </p> + <p> + “They do not see the matter in that light in Berlin. As a matter of + fact this spirit of revolt against your sovereign only serves to greatly + aggravate your crime.” + </p> + <p> + “My crime!” Trenck exclaimed, trembling with anger. + </p> + <p> + His glance fell upon the major’s sword and the thought came to him + to tear it from his side and pierce his throat with it. But in the same + instant it occurred to him that he might rather profit by the situation. + Pale and trembling as he was, he retained sufficient self-control to + modify the expression of his countenance and the tone of his voice, though + his glance remained fixed upon the sword. + </p> + <p> + “Major,” he said, “no one can be called a criminal until + he has been so adjudged by the courts. Happily a man’s honor does + not depend upon the inconsequent, malicious opinion of others. On the + contrary blame should attach to him who condemns the accused without a + hearing. No constituted power, whether that of king or judge, has yet + convicted me of any culpable action. Apart from the courtesy which should + be observed between officers of the same rank, you, out of simple justice, + should refrain front such an accusation.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one knows,” retorted Boo, “that you entered into + relations with the enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “I? Great God!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not consider the Pandours, then, as such?” + </p> + <p> + “I visited their chief solely as a relative. A glass of wine shared + with him in his tent can hardly be construed into a dangerous alliance!” + </p> + <p> + “But you hoped to inherit great riches from this relative. That hope + might well impel you to cross the frontier of Bohemia for all time.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what egregious folly! What more could I hope for than that + which I already possessed in Berlin? Was I a poor adventurer seeking his + fortune by his sword? Rich in my own right; enjoying to the full the king’s + favor; attached to the court by all that satisfied pride could demand, as + well as by ties of the tenderest sentiments. What more was there for me to + covet or to seek elsewhere?” + </p> + <p> + The major turned his head aside with an air of indifference. + </p> + <p> + “One single fact suffices to discount everything you have said, + Baron,” he replied dryly. “You have twice attempted to escape + from the fortress. An innocent man awaits his trial with confidence, + knowing that it cannot be other than favorable. The culprit alone flees.” + </p> + <p> + Trenck, though quivering with blind rage, continued to maintain his former + attitude, his features composed, his eyes fixed upon the major’s + sword. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “in three weeks, on the twenty-fifth of + September, I shall have been a prisoner for one year. You in your position + may not have found the time long, but to me it has dragged interminably. + And it has been still harder for me to bear because I have not been able + to count the days or hours which still separate me from justice and + liberty. If I knew the limit set to my captivity—no matter what it + may be—I could surely find resignation and patience to await it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is most unfortunate, then,” said the major, “that no + one could give you that information.” + </p> + <p> + “Say rather, would not,” replied Trenck. “Surely, + something of the matter must be known here. You, for instance, major, + might tell me frankly what you think to be the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Doo, assuming the self-satisfied manner of a + jailer; “it would not be proper for me to answer that.” + </p> + <p> + “You would save me from despair and revolt,” replied Trenck + warmly. “For I give you my word of honor that from the moment I know + when my captivity is to terminate—no matter when that may be, or + what my subsequent fate—I will make no further attempts to evade it + by flight.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want me to tell you——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” interrupted Trenck, with a shudder; “yes, once + again I ask you.” + </p> + <p> + Doo smiled maliciously as he answered: + </p> + <p> + “The end of your captivity? Why, a traitor can scarcely hope for + release!” + </p> + <p> + The heat of the day, the wine he had drunk, overwhelming anger and his + fiery blood, all mounted to Trenck’s head. Incapable of further + self-restraint, he flung himself upon the major, tore the coveted sword + from his side, dashed out of the chamber, flung the two sentinels at the + door down the stairs, took their entire length himself at a single bound + and sprang into the midst of the assembled guards. + </p> + <p> + Trenck fell upon them with his sword, showering blows right and left. The + blade flashed snakelike in his powerful grasp, the soldiers falling back + before the fierce onslaught. Having disabled four of the men, the prisoner + succeeded in forcing his way past the remainder and raced for the first + rampart. + </p> + <p> + There he mounted the rampart and, never stopping to gauge its height, + sprang down into the moat, landing upon his feet in the bottom of the dry + ditch. Faster still, he flew to the second rampart and scaled it as he had + done the first, clambering up by means of projecting stones and + interstices. + </p> + <p> + It was just past noon; the sun blazed full upon the scene and every one + within the prison stood astounded at the miraculous flight in which Trenck + seemed to fairly soar through the air. Those of the soldiers whom Trenck + had not overthrown pursued, but with little hope of overtaking him. Their + guns were unloaded so that they were unable to shoot after him. Not a + soldier dared to risk trying to follow him by the road he had taken, over + the ramparts and moats; for, without that passion for liberty which lent + wings to the prisoner there was no hope of any of them scaling the walls + without killing himself a dozen times over. + </p> + <p> + They were, therefore, compelled to make use of the regular passages to the + outer posterns and these latter being located at a considerable distance + from the prisoner’s avenue of escape, he was certain, at the pace he + was maintaining, to gain at least a half-hour’s start over his + pursuers. + </p> + <p> + Once beyond the walls of the prison, with the woods close by, it seemed as + if Trenck’s escape was assured beyond doubt. + </p> + <p> + He had now come to a narrow passageway leading to the last of the inner + posterns which pierced the walls. Here he found a sentinel on guard and + the soldier sprang up to confront him. But a soldier to overcome was not + an obstacle to stop the desperate flight of the baron. He struck the man + heavily in the face with his sword, stunning him and sending him rolling + in the dust. + </p> + <p> + Once through the postern there now remained only a single palisade or + stockade—a great fence constructed of iron bars and iron + trellis-work, which constituted the outermost barrier between the fleeing + prisoner and liberty. Once over that iron palisade he had only to dash + into the woods and disappear. + </p> + <p> + But it was ordained that Trenck was not to overcome this last obstacle, + simple as it appeared. At a fatal moment, his foot was caught between two + bars of the palisade and he was unable to free himself. + </p> + <p> + While he was engaged in superhuman but futile efforts to release his foot, + the sentinel of the passage, who had picked himself up, ran through the + postern toward the palisade, followed by another soldier from the + garrison. Together they fell upon Trenck, overwhelming him with blows with + the butts of their muskets and secured him. + </p> + <p> + Bruised and bleeding he was borne back to his cell. + </p> + <p> + Major Doo informed Trenck, after this abortive attempt to escape, that he + had been condemned to one year’s imprisonment only. That year was + within three weeks of expiring when the infamous major, who was an + Italian, goaded the unfortunate young man into open defiance of his + sovereign’s mandate. His pardon was at once annulled and his + confinement now became most rigorous. + </p> + <p> + Another plot, headed by three officers and several soldiers of the guard, + who were friendly to Trenck, was discovered at the last moment—in + time for the conspirators themselves to escape to Bohemia, but under + circumstances which prevented Baron de Trenck from accompanying them. + </p> + <p> + This also served to increase the hardships of the prisoner’s lot, + and he now found himself deprived of the former companionship of his + friends and surrounded by strangers, the one familiar face remaining being + that of Lieutenant Bach, a Danish officer, a braggart swordsman and + ruffler, who had always been hostile to him. + </p> + <p> + But, despite his isolation, the energy and strength of Trenck’s + character were only augmented by his misfortunes, and he never ceased to + plot for his deliverance. Weeks passed without any fruitful event + occurring in the life of the prisoner, yet help was to come to him from a + source from which he could never have expected it. But before that + fortuitous result was destined to take place—in fact, as preliminary + to its achievement—he was destined to be an actor in the most + remarkable scene that ever has been recorded in the annals of prison life, + and in one of the strangest duels of modern times. + </p> + <p> + One day Trenck had cast himself fully clothed upon his bed, in order to + obtain a change of position in his cramped place of confinement. + Lieutenant Bach was on duty as his guard. + </p> + <p> + The young baron had retained in prison the proud and haughty demeanor + which had formerly brought upon him so much censure at court. Lieutenant + Bach’s countenance also bore the imprint of incarnate pride. + </p> + <p> + The two exchanged from time to time glances of insolence; for the rest, + they remained silently smoking, side by side. + </p> + <p> + Trenck was the first to break the silence, for prisoners grasp every + opportunity for conversation, and at any price. + </p> + <p> + “It appears to me your hand is wounded, lieutenant,” Trenck + said. “Have you found another opportunity to cross swords?” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Schell, it seemed to me, looked somewhat obliquely at + me,” replied the Dane. “Therefore, I indulged him in a pass or + two directed against his right arm.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a delicate youth, and so mild-mannered! Are you not ashamed?” + </p> + <p> + “What could I do? There was no one else at hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless he seems to have wounded you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, accidentally though, without knowing what he did.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact, then, of having been expelled from two regiments for your + highhanded acts, and finally transferred to the garrison of the fortress + of Glatz as punishment, has not cured you of your fire-eating + propensities?” + </p> + <p> + “When a man has the reputation of being the best swordsman in + Prussia he values that title somewhat more than your military rank, which + any clumsy fool can obtain.” + </p> + <p> + “You, the best swordsman!” exclaimed Trenck, concluding his + remark with an ironical puff of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “I flatter myself that such is the case,” retorted Bach, + emitting in turn a great cloud of tobacco-smoke. + </p> + <p> + “If I were free,” said Trenck, “I might, perhaps, prove + to you in short order that such is not the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you claim to be my master at that art?” + </p> + <p> + “I flatter myself that such is the case.” + </p> + <p> + “That we shall soon see,” cried Bach, flushing with rage. + </p> + <p> + “How can we? I am disarmed and a prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, you make your claim out of sheer boastfulness, because you + think we cannot put it to the test!” + </p> + <p> + “Truly, lieutenant, set me at liberty and I swear to you that on the + other side of the frontier we will put our skill to the test as freely as + you like!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am unwilling to wait for that. We will fight here, Baron + Trenck.” + </p> + <p> + “In this room?” + </p> + <p> + “After your assertion, I must either humble your arrogance or lose + my reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be glad to know how you propose to do so?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you talk of Bohemia because that country is far away. As for + me, I prefer this one, because it affords an immediate opportunity to put + the matter to the test.” + </p> + <p> + “I should ask nothing better if it were not impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! You shall see if it be.” + </p> + <p> + Bach sprang up. An old door, supported by a couple of benches, had been + placed in the chamber for a table. He hammered at the worm-eaten wood and + knocked off a strip which he split in half. One of these substitutes for + rapiers he gave to Trenck, retaining the other himself, and both placed + themselves on guard. + </p> + <p> + After the first few passes, Trenck sent his adversary’s make-shift + sword flying through space, and with his own he met the lieutenant full in + the chest. + </p> + <p> + “Touché!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! It is true!” growled Bach. “But I’ll + have my revenge!” + </p> + <p> + He went out hastily. Trenck watched him in utter amazement and he was even + more astounded when, an instant later, he saw Bach return with a couple of + swords, which he drew out from beneath his uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to Trenck, “it is for you to show what + you can do with good steel!” + </p> + <p> + “You risk,” returned the baron, smiling calmly, “you + risk, over and above the danger of being wounded, losing that absolute + superiority in matters of the sword of which you are so proud.” + </p> + <p> + “Defend yourself, braggart!” shouted Bach. “Show your + skill instead of talking about it.” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself furiously upon Trenck. The latter, seeming only to trifle + lightly with his weapon at first, parried his thrusts, and then pressed + the attack in turn, wounding Bach severely in the arm. + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant’s weapon clattered upon the floor. For an instant he + paused, immovable, overcome by amazement; then an irresistible admiration—a + supreme tenderness, invaded his soul. He flung himself, weeping, in Trenck’s + arms, exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “You are my master!” + </p> + <p> + Then, drawing away from the prisoner, he contemplated him with the same + enthusiasm, but more reflectively, and observed: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, baron, you far exceed me in the use of the sword; you are the + greatest duelist of the day, and a man of your caliber must not remain + longer in prison.” + </p> + <p> + The baron was somewhat taken by surprise at this, but, with his usual + presence of mind, he immediately set himself to derive such profit as he + might from his guardian’s extravagant access of affection. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Bach,” he replied, “yes, I should be free + for the reason you mention, and by every right, but where is the man who + will assist me to escape from these walls?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, baron!” said the lieutenant. “You shall regain + your freedom as surely as my name is Bach.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I believe in you, my worthy friend,” cried Trenck; + “you will keep your word.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” resumed Bach reflectively. “You cannot leave the + citadel without the assistance of an officer. I should compromise you at + every step. You have just seen what a hot-tempered scatterbrain I am. But + I have in mind one who admires you profoundly. You shall know who he is + tonight, and together we will set you at liberty.” + </p> + <p> + Bach did, in fact, redeem his promise. He introduced Lieutenant Schell, + who was to be Trenck’s companion during their arduous flight into + Bohemia, into the prisoner’s cell, and himself obtained leave of + absence for the purpose of securing funds for his fellow conspirators. The + plot was discovered before his return and Schell, warned of this by one of + the governor’s adjutants, hastened the day of their flight. + </p> + <p> + In scaling the first rampart, Schell fell and sprained his ankle so + severely that he could not use it. But Trenck was equal to all + emergencies. He would not abandon his companion. He placed him across his + shoulders, and, thus burdened, climbed the outer barriers and wandered all + night in the bitter cold, fleeing through the snow to escape his pursuers. + In the morning, by a clever ruse, he secured two horses and, thus mounted, + he and his companion succeeded in reaching Bohemia. + </p> + <p> + Trenck directed his course toward Brandenburg where his sister dwelt, near + the Prussian and Bohemian frontiers, in the Castle of Waldau, for he + counted upon her assistance to enable him to settle in a foreign land + where he would be safe. + </p> + <p> + The two friends, reduced shortly to the direst poverty, parted with their + horses and all but the most necessary wearing apparel. Even now, though in + Bohemia, they were not free from pursuit. Impelled one night, through + hunger and cold, to throw themselves upon the bounty of an inn-keeper, + they found in him a loyal and true friend. The worthy host revealed to + them the true identity of four supposed traveling merchants, who had that + day accosted them on the road and followed them to the inn. These men + were, in fact, emissaries from the fortress of Glatz who had attempted to + bribe him to betray the fugitives into their hands, for they were sworn to + capture Trenck and his companion and return them dead or alive to the + enraged governor of the fortress. + </p> + <p> + In the morning the four Prussians, the carriage, the driver, and the + horses set forth and soon disappeared in the distance. + </p> + <p> + Two hours later the fugitives, fortified by a good breakfast, took their + departure from the Ezenstochow inn, leaving behind them a man whom they, + at least, esteemed as the greatest honor to mankind. + </p> + <p> + The travelers hastened toward Dankow. They chose the most direct route and + tramped along in the open without a thought of the infamous spies who + might already be on their track. + </p> + <p> + They arrived at nightfall at their destination, however, without further + hindrance. + </p> + <p> + The next day they set out for Parsemachi, in Bohemia. + </p> + <p> + They started early, and a day in the open, together with a night’s + sleep, had almost obliterated the memory of their adventure at the inn. + </p> + <p> + The cold was intense. The day was gray with heavy clouds that no longer + promised rain, but which shrouded the country with a pall of gloom. The + wind swirled and howled, and though the two friends struggled to keep + their few thin garments drawn closely about them, they still searched the + horizon hopefully, thinking of the journey’s end and the peaceful + existence which awaited them. To their right, the aspect of the + countryside had altered somewhat. Great wooded stretches spread away into + the distance, while to the left all was yet free and open. + </p> + <p> + They had gone about half a mile past the first clump of trees when they + noticed, through the swaying branches by the roadside, a motionless object + around which several men busied themselves. With every step they gained a + clearer impression of the nature of this obstacle until, at last, an + expression of half-mockery, half-anger overspread their features. + </p> + <p> + “Now God forgive me!” exclaimed Schell finally, “but + that is the infernal brown traveling carriage from the inn!” + </p> + <p> + “May the devil take me!” rejoined Trenck, “if I delay or + flee a step from those miserable rascals.” + </p> + <p> + And they strode sturdily onward. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they were within speaking distance, one of the Prussians, a big + man in a furred cap, believing them to be wholly unsuspicious, called to + them: + </p> + <p> + “My dear sirs, in heaven’s name come help us! Our carriage has + been overturned and it is impossible to get it out of this rut.” + </p> + <p> + The friends had reached an angle of the road where a few withered tree + branches alone separated them from the others. They perceived the brown + body of the carriage, half open like a huge rat-trap, and beside it the + forbidding faces of their would-be captors. Trenck launched these words + through the intervening screen of branches: + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil, miserable scoundrels that you are, and may you + remain there!” + </p> + <p> + Then, swift as an arrow, he sped toward the open fields to the left of the + highroad, feigning flight. The carriage, which had been overturned solely + for the purpose of misleading them, was soon righted and the driver lashed + his horses forward in pursuit of the fugitives, the four Prussians + accompanying him with drawn pistols. + </p> + <p> + When they were almost within reaching distance of their prey they raised + their pistols and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Surrender, rascals, or you are dead men!” + </p> + <p> + This was what Trenck desired. He wheeled about and discharged his pistol, + sending a bullet through the first Prussian’s breast, stretching him + dead upon the spot. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Schell fired, but his assailants returned the shot and + wounded him. + </p> + <p> + Trenck again discharged his pistol twice in succession. Then, as one of + the Prussians, who was apparently still uninjured, took to flight across + the plain he sped furiously after him. The pursuit continued some two or + three hundred paces. The Prussian, as if impelled by some irresistible + force, whirled around and Trenck caught sight of his blanched countenance + and blood-stained linen. One of the shots had struck him! + </p> + <p> + Instantly Trenck put an end to the half-finished task with a sword thrust. + But the time wasted on the Prussian had cost him dear. Returning hastily + to the field of action, he perceived Schell struggling in the grasp of the + two remaining Prussians. Wounded as he was, he had been unable to cope + single-handed with them, and was rapidly being borne toward the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, Schell!” Trenck shouted. “I am coming!” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his friend’s voice Schell felt himself saved. By a + supreme effort he succeeded in releasing himself from his captors. + </p> + <p> + Frantic with rage and disappointment, the Prussians again advanced to the + attack upon the two wretched fugitives, but Trenck’s blood was up. + He made a furious onslaught upon them with his sword, driving them back + step by step to their carriage, into which they finally tumbled, shouting + to the driver in frantic haste to whip up his horses. + </p> + <p> + As the carriage dashed away the friends drew long breaths of relief and + wiped away the blood and powder stains from their heated brows. Careless + of their sufferings, these iron-hearted men merely congratulated each + other upon their victory. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it’s well ended, Schell,” exclaimed Trenck, “and + I rejoice that we have had this opportunity to chastise the miserable + traitors. But you are wounded, my poor Schell!” + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing,” the lieutenant replied carelessly; “merely + a wound in the throat, and, I think, another in the head.” + </p> + <p> + This was the last attempt for a considerable time to regain possession of + Trenck’s person. But the two friends suffered greatly from hardships + and were made to feel more than once the cruelty of Prussian oppression. + Even Trenck’s sister, instigated thereto by her husband, who feared + to incur the displeasure of Frederick the Great, refused the poor + fugitives shelter, money, or as much as a crust of bread, and this after + Trenck had jeopardized his liberty by returning to Prussian soil in order + to meet her. + </p> + <p> + It was at this period, when starvation stared the exiles in the face, that + Trenck met the Russian General Liewen, a relative of Trenck’s + mother, who offered the baron a captaincy in the Tobolsk Dragoons, and + furnished him with the money necessary for his equipment. Trenck and + Schell were now compelled to part, the latter journeying to Italy to + rejoin relatives there, the baron to go to Russia, where he was to attain + the highest eminence of grandeur. + </p> + <p> + Baron de Trenck, on his journey to Russia, passed through Danzig, which + was at that time neutral territory, bordering upon the confines of + Prussia. Here he delayed for a time in the hope of meeting with his cousin + the Pandour. During the interim he formed an intimacy with a young + Prussian officer named Henry, whom he assisted lavishly with money. Almost + daily they indulged in excursions in the environs, the Prussian acting as + guide. + </p> + <p> + One morning, while at his toilet, Trenck’s servant, Karl, who was + devoted to him body and soul, observed: + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant Henry will enjoy himself thoroughly on your excursion + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that, Karl?” asked the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Because he has planned to take your honor to Langführ at ten o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + “At ten or eleven—the hour is not of importance.” + </p> + <p> + “No! You must be there on the stroke of ten by the village clock. + Langführ is on the Prussian border and under Prussian rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Prussia!” exclaimed Trenck, shaking his head, which Karl had + not finished powdering. “Are you quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly. Eight Prussians—non-commissioned officers and + soldiers—will be in the courtyard of the charming little inn that + Lieutenant Henry described so well. As soon as your honor crosses the + threshold they will fall upon you and bear you off to a carriage which + will be in waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Finish dressing my hair, Karl,” said Trenck, recovering his + wonted impassibility. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for that matter,” continued the valet, “they will + have neither muskets nor pistols. They will be armed with swords only. + That will leave them free to fall bodily upon your honor and to prevent + you using your weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all, Karl?” + </p> + <p> + “No. There will be two soldiers detailed especially for my benefit, + so that I can’t get away to give the alarm.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, is that all!” + </p> + <p> + “No. The carriage is to convey your honor to Lavenburg, in + Pomerania, and you must cross a portion of the province of Danzig to get + there. Besides the under officers at the inn who will travel with your + honor, two others will accompany the carriage on horseback to prevent any + outcry while you are on neutral ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Famously planned!” + </p> + <p> + “M. Reimer, the Prussian resident here, outlined the plot, and + appointed Lieutenant Henry to carry it out.” + </p> + <p> + “Afterward, Karl?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all—this time—and it’s enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I regret that it should end thus, for your account has + greatly interested me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honor may take it that all I have said is absolutely correct.” + </p> + <p> + “But when did you obtain this information?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, just now!” + </p> + <p> + “And from whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Franz, Lieutenant Henry’s valet, when we were watching the + horses beneath the big pines, while your honors waited in that roadside + pavilion for the shower to pass over.” + </p> + <p> + “Is his information reliable?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! As no one suspected him, the whole matter was discussed + freely before him.” + </p> + <p> + “And he betrayed the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because he greatly admires your honor and wasn’t willing + to see you treated so.” + </p> + <p> + “Karl, give him ten ducats from my purse and tell him I will take + him in my own service, for he has afforded me great pleasure. The outing + to-morrow will be a hundred times more amusing than I had hoped—indeed + more amusing than any I have ever undertaken in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honor will go to Langführ, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Karl. We will go together, and you shall see if I misled + you when I promised you a delightful morning.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Baron de Trenck had completed his toilet, he visited M. + Scherer, the Russian resident, spent a few moments in private with him and + then returned to his apartments for dinner. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Henry arrived soon afterward. Trenck found delight in the + course of dissimulation to which he stood committed. He overwhelmed his + guest with courteous attentions, pressing upon him the finest wines and + his favorite fruits, meanwhile beaming upon him with an affection that + overspread his whole countenance, and expatiating freely upon the delights + of the morrow’s ride. + </p> + <p> + Henry accepted his attentions with his accustomed dreamy manner. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, at half past nine, when the lieutenant arrived, he found + Trenck awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + The two officers rode off, followed by their servants, and took the road + to Langführ. Trenck’s audacity was terrifying. Even Karl, who was + well aware of his master’s great ability and cleverness, was + nevertheless uneasy, and Franz, who was less familiar with the baron’s + character, was in a state of the greatest alarm. + </p> + <p> + The country, beautiful with its verdant grasslands, its budding bushes and + flowers, its rich fields of wheat, dotted with spring blossoms, revealed + itself to their delighted eyes. In the distance glistened the tavern of + Langführ, with its broad red and blue stripes and its tempting signboard + that displayed a well-appointed festive table. + </p> + <p> + The low door in the wall that enclosed the tavern courtyard was still + closed. Inside, to the right of that door, was a little terrace, and + against the wall was an arbor formed of running vines and ivy. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Henry, pausing near a clump of trees some two hundred paces + from the tavern, said: + </p> + <p> + “Baron, our horses will be in the way in that little courtyard. I + think it would be well to leave them here in the care of our servants + until our return.” + </p> + <p> + Trenck assented readily. He sprang from his horse and tossed his bridle to + his valet and Henry did the same. + </p> + <p> + The path leading to the tavern was enchanting, with its carpet of flowers + and moss, and the two young men advanced arm in arm in the most + affectionate manner. Karl and Franz watched them, overwhelmed with + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The door in the wall had been partly opened as they approached and the + young men saw, within the arbor on the terrace, the resident, Herr Reimer—his + three-cornered hat on his powdered wig, his arms crossed on the top of the + adjacent wall, as he awaited their coming. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the officers were within ear-shot, he called out: + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Baron de Trenck, breakfast is ready.” + </p> + <p> + The two officers were almost at the threshold. Trenck slackened his pace + somewhat; then he felt Henry grip his arm more closely and forcibly drag + him toward the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Trenck energetically freed his arm, upon observing this movement that + spoke so eloquently of betrayal, and twice struck the lieutenant, with + such violence that Henry was thrown to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Reimer, the resident, realizing that Trenck knew of the plot, saw that the + time had come to resort to armed intervention. + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers, in the name of Prussia, I command you to arrest Baron de + Trenck!” he shouted to the men who were posted in the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + “Soldiers, in the name of Russia!” Trenck shouted, brandishing + his sword, “kill these brigands who are violating the rights of the + country.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, six Russian dragoons emerged suddenly from a field of + wheat and, running up, fell upon the Prussians who had rushed from the + courtyard at the resident’s command. + </p> + <p> + This unexpected attack took the Prussians by surprise. They defended + themselves only half-heartedly and finally they fled in disorder, throwing + away their weapons, and followed by the shots of the Russians. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Henry and four soldiers remained in the custody of the victors. + Trenck dashed into the arbor to seize Resident Reimer, but the only + evidence of that personage was his wig, which remained caught in the + foliage at an opening in the rear of the arbor through which the resident + had made his escape. Trenck then returned to the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + As a fitting punishment for the Prussian soldiers, he commanded his + dragoons to give each of them fifty blows, to turn their uniforms + wrongside out, to decorate their helmets with straw cockades, and to drive + them thus attired across the frontier. + </p> + <p> + While his men proceeded to execute his orders, Trenck drew his sword and + turned to Lieutenant Henry. + </p> + <p> + “And now, for our affair, lieutenant!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate Henry, under the disgrace of his position, lost his + presence of mind. Hardly knowing what he did, he drew his sword, but + dropped it almost immediately, begging for mercy. + </p> + <p> + Trenck endeavored to force him to fight, without avail, then, disgusted + with the lieutenant’s cowardice, he caught up a stick and belabored + him heartily, crying: + </p> + <p> + “Rogue, go tell your fellows how Trenck deals with traitors!” + </p> + <p> + The people of the inn, attracted by the noise of the conflict, had + gathered around the spot, and, as the baron administered the punishment, + they added to the shame of the disgraced lieutenant by applauding the + baron heartily. + </p> + <p> + The punishment over and the sentence of the Prussians having been carried + out, Trenck returned to the city with his six dragoons and the two + servants. + </p> + <p> + In this affair, as throughout his entire career, Trenck was simply + faithful to the rule which he had adopted to guide him through life: + </p> + <p> + “Always face danger rather than avoid it.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA By Henry Murger + </h2> + <p> + For five or six years Marcel had been engaged upon the famous painting + which he said was meant to represent the Passage of the Red Sea; and for + five or six years this masterpiece in color had been obstinately refused + by the jury. Indeed, from its constant journeying back and forth, from the + artist’s studio to the Musée, and from the Musée to the studio, the + painting knew the road so well that one needed only to set it on rollers + and it would have been quite capable of reaching the Louvre alone. Marcel, + who had repainted the picture ten times, and minutely gone over it from + top to bottom, vowed that only a personal hostility on the part of the + members of the jury could account for the ostracism which annually turned + him away from the Salon, and in his idle moments he had composed, in honor + of those watch-dogs of the Institute, a little dictionary of insults, with + illustrations of a savage irony. This collection gained celebrity and + enjoyed, among the studios and in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, the same sort + of popular success as that achieved by the immortal complaint of Giovanni + Bellini, painter by appointment to the Grand Sultan of the Turks; every + dauber in Paris had a copy stored away in his memory. + </p> + <p> + For a long time Marcel had not allowed himself to be discouraged by the + emphatic refusal which greeted him at each exposition. He was comfortably + settled in his opinion that his picture was, in a modest way, the + companion piece long awaited by the “Wedding of Cana,” that + gigantic masterpiece whose dazzling splendor the dust of three centuries + has not dimmed. Accordingly, each year, at the time of the Salon, Marcel + sent his picture to be examined by the jury. Only, in order to throw the + examiners off the track and if possible to make them abandon the policy of + exclusion which they seemed to have adopted toward the “Passage of + the Red Sea,” Marcel, without in any way disturbing the general + scheme of his picture, modified certain details and changed its title. + </p> + <p> + For instance, on one occasion it arrived before the jury under the name of + the “Passage of the Rubicon!” but Pharaoh, poorly disguised + under Caesar’s mantle, was recognized and repulsed with all the + honors that were his due. + </p> + <p> + The following year, Marcel spread over the level plane of his picture a + layer of white representing snow, planted a pine-tree in one corner, and + clothing an Egyptian as a grenadier of the Imperial Guard, rechristened + the painting the “Passage of the Beresina.” + </p> + <p> + The jury, which on that very day had polished its spectacles on the lining + of its illustrious coat, was not in any way taken in by this new ruse. It + recognized perfectly well the persistent painting, above all by a big + brute of a horse of many colors, which was rearing out of one of the waves + of the Red Sea. The coat of that horse had served Marcel for all his + experiments in color, and in private conversation he called it his + synoptic table of fine tones, because he had reproduced, in their play of + light and shade, all possible combinations of color. But once again, + insensible to this detail, the jury seemed scarcely able to find + blackballs enough to emphasize their refusal of the “Passage of the + Beresina.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Marcel; “no more than I expected. Next + year I shall send it back under the title of ‘Passage des Panoramas.’” + </p> + <p> + “That will be one on them—on them—on them, them, them,” + sang the musician, Schaunard, fitting the words to a new air he had been + composing—a terrible air, noisy as a gamut of thunderclaps, and the + accompaniment to which was a terror to every piano in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “How could they refuse that picture without having every drop of the + vermilion in my Red Sea rise up in their faces and cover them with shame?” + murmured Marcel, as he gazed at the painting. “When one thinks that + it contains a good hundred crowns’ worth of paint, and a million of + genius, not to speak of the fair days of my youth, fast growing bald as my + hat! But they shall never have the last word; until my dying breath I + shall keep on sending them my painting. I want to have it engraved upon + their memory.” + </p> + <p> + “That is certainly the surest way of ever getting it engraved,” + said Gustave Colline, in a plaintive voice, adding to himself: “That + was a good one, that was—really a good one; I must get that off the + next time I am asked out.” + </p> + <p> + Marcel continued his imprecations, which Schaunard continued to set to + music. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they won’t accept me,” said Marcel. “Ah! the + government pays them, boards them, gives them the Cross, solely for the + one purpose of refusing me once a year, on the 1st of March. I see their + idea clearly now—I see it perfectly clearly; they are trying to + drive me to break my brushes. They hope, perhaps, by refusing my Red Sea, + to make me throw myself out of the window in despair. But they know very + little of the human heart if they expect to catch me with such a clumsy + trick. I shall no longer wait for the time of the annual Salon. Beginning + with to-day, my work becomes the canvas of Damocles, eternally suspended + over their existence. From now on, I am going to send it once a week to + each one of them, at their homes, in the bosom of their families, in the + full heart of their private life. It shall trouble their domestic joy, it + shall make them think that their wine is sour, their dinner burned, their + wives bad-tempered. They will very soon become insane, and will have to be + put in strait-jackets when they go to the Institute, on the days when + there are meetings. That idea pleases me.” + </p> + <p> + A few days later, when Marcel had already forgotten his terrible plans for + vengeance upon his persecutors, he received a visit from Father Medicis. + For that was the name by which the brotherhood called a certain Jew, whose + real name was Soloman, and who at that time was well known throughout the + bohemia of art and literature, with which he constantly had dealings. + Father Medicis dealt in all sorts of bric-à-brac. He sold complete + house-furnishings for from twelve francs up to a thousand crowns. He would + buy anything, and knew how to sell it again at a profit. His shop, + situated in the Place du Carrousel, was a fairy spot where one could find + everything that one might wish. All the products of nature, all the + creations of art, all that comes forth from the bowels of the earth or + from the genius of man, Medicis found it profitable to trade in. His + dealings included everything, absolutely everything that exists; he even + put a price upon the Ideal. Medicis would even buy ideas, to use himself + or to sell again. Known to all writers and artists, intimate friend of the + palette, familiar spirit of the writing-desk, he was the Asmodeus of the + arts. He would sell you cigars in exchange for the plot of a dime novel, + slippers for a sonnet, a fresh catch of fish for a paradox; he would talk + at so much an hour with newspaper reporters whose duty was to record the + lively capers of the smart set. He would get you passes to the parliament + buildings, or invitations to private parties; he gave lodgings by the + night, the week, or the month to homeless artists, who paid him by making + copies of old masters in the Louvre. The greenroom had no secrets for him; + he could place your plays for you with some manager; he could obtain for + you all sorts of favors. He carried in his head a copy of the almanac of + twenty-five thousand addresses, and knew the residence, the name, and the + secrets of all the celebrities, even the obscure ones. + </p> + <p> + In entering the abode of the bohemians, with that knowing air which + characterized him, the Jew divined that he had arrived at a propitious + moment. As a matter of fact, the four friends were at that moment gathered + in council, and under the domination of a ferocious appetite were + discussing the grave question of bread and meat. It was Sunday, the last + day of the month. Fatal day, sinister of date! + </p> + <p> + The entrance of Medicis was accordingly greeted with a joyous chorus, for + they knew that the Jew was too avaricious of his time to waste it in mere + visits of civility; accordingly his presence always announced that he was + open to a bargain. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, gentlemen,” said the Jew; “how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Colline,” said Rodolphe from where he lay upon the bed, sunk + in the delights of maintaining a horizontal line, “practise the + duties of hospitality and offer our guest a chair; a guest is sacred. I + salute you, Abraham,” added the poet. + </p> + <p> + Colline drew forward a chair which had about as much elasticity as a piece + of bronze and offered it to the Jew, Medicis let himself fall into the + chair, and started to complain of its hardness, when he remembered that he + himself had once traded it off to Colline in exchange for a profession of + faith which he afterward sold to a deputy. As he sat down the pockets of + the Jew gave forth a silvery sound, and this melodious symphony threw the + four bohemians into a reverie that was full of sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Rodolphe, in a low tone, to Marcel, “let us + hear the song. The accompaniment sounds all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis. “I have simply come to + make your fortune. That is to say, I have come to offer you a superb + opportunity to enter into the world of art. Art, as you very well know, + Monsieur Marcel, is an arid road, in which glory is the oasis.” + </p> + <p> + “Father Medicis,” said Marcel, who was on coals of impatience, + “in the name of fifty per cent, your revered patron saint, be brief.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is the offer,” rejoined Medicis. “A wealthy + amateur, who is collecting a picture-gallery destined to make the tour of + Europe, has commissioned me to procure for him a series of remarkable + works. I have come to give you a chance to be included in this collection. + In one word, I have come to purchase your ‘Passage of the Red Sea.’” + </p> + <p> + “Money down?” asked Marcel. + </p> + <p> + “Money down,” answered the Jew, sounding forth the full + orchestra of his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Medicis,” said Marcel, pointing to his painting. + “I wish to leave to you the honor of fixing for yourself the price + of that work of art which is priceless.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew laid Upon the table fifty crowns in bright new silver. + </p> + <p> + “Keep them going,” said Marcel; “that is a good + beginning.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Marcel,” said Medicis, “you know very well + that my first word is always my last word. I shall add nothing more. But + think; fifty crowns; that makes one hundred and fifty francs. That is + quite a sum.” + </p> + <p> + “A paltry sum,” answered the artist; “just in the robe + of my Pharaoh there is fifty crowns’ worth of cobalt. Pay me at + least something for my work.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear my last word,” replied Medicis. “I will not add a + penny more; but, I offer dinner for the crowd, wines included, and after + dessert I will pay in gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I hear any one object?” howled Colline, striking three + blows of his fist upon the table. “It is a bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” said Marcel. “I agree.” + </p> + <p> + “I will send for the picture to-morrow,” said the Jew. “Come, + gentlemen, let us start. Your places are all set.” + </p> + <p> + The four friends descended the stairs, singing the chorus from “The + Huguenots,” “to the table, to the table.” + </p> + <p> + Medicis treated the bohemians in a fashion altogether sumptuous. He + offered them a lot of things which up to now had remained for them a + mystery. Dating from this dinner, lobster ceased to be a myth to + Schaunard, and he acquired a passion for that amphibian which was destined + to increase to the verge of delirium. + </p> + <p> + The four friends went forth from this splendid feast as intoxicated as on + a day of vintage. Their inebriety came near bearing deplorable fruits for + Marcel, because as he passed the shop of his tailor, at two o’clock + in the morning, he absolutely insisted upon awakening his creditor in + order to give him, on account, the one hundred and fifty francs that he + had just received. But a gleam of reason still awake in the brain of + Colline held back the artist from the brink of this precipice. + </p> + <p> + A week after this festivity Marcel learned in what gallery his picture had + found a place. Passing along the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, he stopped in the + midst of a crowd that seemed to be staring at a sign newly placed above a + shop. This sign was none other than Marcel’s painting, which had + been sold by Medicis to a dealer in provisions. Only the “Passage of + the Red Sea” had once again undergone a modification and bore a new + title. A steamboat had been added to it, and it was now called “In + the Port of Marseilles.” A flattering ovation arose among the crowd + when they discovered the picture. And Marcel turned away delighted with + this triumph, and murmured softly: “The voice of the people is the + voice of God!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WOMAN AND THE CAT By Marcel Prevost + </h2> + <p> + “Yes,” said our old friend Tribourdeaux, a man of culture and + a philosopher, which is a combination rarely found among army surgeons; + “yes, the supernatural is everywhere; it surrounds us and hems us in + and permeates us. If science pursues it, it takes flight and cannot be + grasped. Our intellect resembles those ancestors of ours who cleared a few + acres of forest; whenever they approached the limits of their clearing + they heard low growls and saw gleaming eyes everywhere circling them + about. I myself have had the sensation of having approached the limits of + the unknown several times in my life, and on one occasion in particular.” + </p> + <p> + A young lady present interrupted him: + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, you are evidently dying to tell us a story. Come now, + begin!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor bowed. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not in the least anxious, I assure you. I tell this story + as seldom as possible, for it disturbs those who hear it, and it disturbs + me also. However, if you wish it, here it is: + </p> + <p> + “In 1863 I was a young physician stationed at Orléans. In that + patrician city, full of aristocratic old residences, it is difficult to + find bachelor apartments; and, as I like both plenty of air and plenty of + room, I took up my lodging on the first floor of a large building situated + just outside the city, near Saint-Euverte. It had been originally + constructed to serve as the warehouse and also as the dwelling of a + manufacturer of rugs. In course of time the manufacturer had failed, and + this big barrack that he had built, falling out of repair through lack of + tenants, had been sold for a song with all its furnishings. The purchaser + hoped to make a future profit out of his purchase, for the city was + growing in that direction; and, as a matter of fact, I believe that at the + present time the house is included within the city limits. When I took up + my quarters there, however, the mansion stood alone on the verge of the + open country, at the end of a straggling street on which a few stray + houses produced at dusk the impression of a jaw from which most of the + teeth have fallen out. + </p> + <p> + “I leased one-half of the first floor, an apartment of four rooms. + For my bedroom and my study I took the two that fronted on the street; in + the third room I set up some shelves for my wardrobe, and the other room I + left empty. This made a very comfortable lodging for me, and I had, for a + sort of promenade, a broad balcony that ran along the entire front of the + building, or rather one-half of the balcony, since it was divided into two + parts (please note this carefully) by a fan of ironwork, over which, + however, one could easily climb. + </p> + <p> + “I had been living there for about two months when, one night in + July on returning to my rooms, I saw with a good deal of surprise a light + shining through the windows of the other apartment on the same floor, + which I had supposed to be uninhabited. The effect of this light was + extraordinary. It lit up with a pale, yet perfectly distinct, reflection, + parts of the balcony, the street below, and a bit of the neighboring + fields. + </p> + <p> + “I thought to myself, ‘Aha! I have a neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + “The idea indeed was not altogether agreeable, for I had been rather + proud of my exclusive proprietorship. On reaching my bedroom I passed + noiselessly out upon the balcony, but already the light had been + extinguished. So I went back into my room, and sat down to read for an + hour or two. From time to time I seemed to hear about me, as though within + the walls, light footsteps; but after finishing my book I went to bed, and + speedily fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + “About midnight I suddenly awoke with a curious feeling that + something was standing beside me. I raised myself in bed, lit a candle, + and this is what I saw. In the middle of the room stood an immense cat + gazing upon me with phosphorescent eyes, and with its back slightly + arched. It was a magnificent Angora, with long fur and a fluffy tail, and + of a remarkable color—exactly like that of the yellow silk that one + sees in cocoons—so that, as the light gleamed upon its coat, the + animal seemed to be made of gold. + </p> + <p> + “It slowly moved toward me on its velvety paws, softly rubbing its + sinuous body against my legs. I leaned over to stroke it, and it permitted + my caress, purring, and finally leaping upon my knees. I noticed then that + it was a female cat, quite young, and that she seemed disposed to permit + me to pet her as long as ever I would. Finally, however, I put her down + upon the floor, and tried to induce her to leave the room; but she leaped + away from me and hid herself somewhere among the furniture, though as soon + as I had blown out my candle, she jumped upon my bed. Being sleepy, + however, I didn’t molest her, but dropped off into a doze, and the + next morning when I awoke in broad daylight I could find no sign of the + animal at all. + </p> + <p> + “Truly, the human brain is a very delicate instrument, and one that + is easily thrown out of gear. Before I proceed, just sum up for yourselves + the facts that I have mentioned: a light seen and presently extinguished + in an apartment supposed to be uninhabited; and a cat of a remarkable + color, which appeared and disappeared in a way that was slightly + mysterious. Now there isn’t anything very strange about that, is + there? Very well. Imagine, now, that these unimportant facts are repeated + day after day and under the same conditions throughout a whole week, and + then, believe me, they become of importance enough to impress the mind of + a man who is living all alone, and to produce in him a slight disquietude + such as I spoke of in commencing my story, and such as is always caused + when one approaches the sphere of the unknown. The human mind is so formed + that it always unconsciously applies the principle of the causa + sufficiens. For every series of facts that are identical, it demands a + cause, a law; and a vague dismay seizes upon it when it is unable to guess + this cause and to trace out this law. + </p> + <p> + “I am no coward, but I have often studied the manifestation of fear + in others, from its most puerile form in children up to its most tragic + phase in madmen. I know that it is fed and nourished by uncertainties, + although when one actually sets himself to investigate the cause, this + fear is often transformed into simple curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “I made up my mind, therefore, to ferret out the truth. I questioned + my caretaker, and found that he knew nothing about my neighbors. Every + morning an old woman came to look after the neighboring apartment; my + caretaker had tried to question her, but either she was completely deaf or + else she was unwilling to give him any information, for she had refused to + answer a single word. Nevertheless, I was able to explain satisfactorily + the first thing that I had noted—that is to say, the sudden + extinction of the light at the moment when I entered the house. I had + observed that the windows next to mine were covered only by long lace + curtains; and as the two balconies were connected, my neighbor, whether + man or woman, had no doubt a wish to prevent any indiscreet + inquisitiveness on my part, and therefore had always put out the light on + hearing me come in. To verify this supposition, I tried a very simple + experiment, which succeeded perfectly. I had a cold supper brought in one + day about noon by my servant, and that evening I did not go out. When + darkness came on, I took my station near the window. Presently I saw the + balcony shining with the light that streamed through the windows of the + neighboring apartment. At once I slipped quietly out upon my balcony, and + stepped softly over the ironwork that separated the two parts. Although I + knew that I was exposing myself to a positive danger, either of falling + and breaking my neck, or of finding myself face to face with a man, I + experienced no perturbation. Reaching the lighted window without having + made the slightest noise, I found it partly open; its curtains, which for + me were quite transparent since I was on the dark side of the window, made + me wholly invisible to any one who should look toward the window from the + interior of the room. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a vast chamber furnished quite elegantly, though it was + obviously out of repair, and lighted by a lamp suspended from the ceiling. + At the end of the room was a low sofa upon which was reclining a woman who + seemed to me to be both young and pretty. Her loosened hair fell over her + shoulders in a rain of gold. She was looking at herself in a hand mirror, + patting herself, passing her arms over her lips, and twisting about her + supple body with a curiously feline grace. Every movement that she made + caused her long hair to ripple in glistening undulations. + </p> + <p> + “As I gazed upon her I confess that I felt a little troubled, + especially when all of a sudden the young girl’s eyes were fixed + upon me—strange eyes, eyes of a phosphorescent green that gleamed + like the flame of a lamp. I was sure that I was invisible, being on the + dark side of a curtained window. That was simple enough, yet nevertheless + I felt that I was seen. The girl, in fact, uttered a cry, and then turned + and buried her face in the sofa-pillows. + </p> + <p> + “I raised the window, rushed into the room toward the sofa, and + leaned over the face that she was hiding. As I did so, being really very + remorseful, I began to excuse and to accuse myself, calling myself all + sorts of names, and begging pardon for my indiscretion. I said that I + deserved to be driven from her presence, but begged not to be sent away + without at least a word of pardon. For a long time I pleaded thus without + success, but at last she slowly turned, and I saw that her fair young face + was stirred with just the faintest suggestion of a smile. When she caught + a glimpse of me she murmured something of which I did not then quite get + the meaning. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is you,’ she cried out; ‘it is you!’ + </p> + <p> + “As she said this, and as I looked at her, not knowing yet exactly + what to answer, I was harassed by the thought: Where on earth have I + already seen this face, this look, this very gesture? Little by little, + however, I found my tongue, and after saying a few more words in apology + for my unpardonable curiosity, and getting brief but not offended answers, + I took leave of her, and, retiring through the window by which I had come, + went back to my own room. Arriving there, I sat a long time by the window + in the darkness, charmed by the face that I had seen, and yet singularly + disquieted. This woman so beautiful, so amiable, living so near to me, who + said to me, ‘It is you,’ exactly as though she had already + known me, who spoke so little, who answered all my questions with evasion, + excited in me a feeling of fear. She had, indeed, told me her name—Linda—and + that was all. I tried in vain to drive away the remembrance of her + greenish eyes, which in the darkness seemed still to gleam upon me, and of + those glints which, like electric sparks, shone in her long hair whenever + she stroked it with her hand. Finally, however, I retired for the night; + but scarcely was my head upon the pillow when I felt some moving body + descend upon my feet. The cat had appeared again. I tried to chase her + away, but she kept returning again and again, until I ended by resigning + myself to her presence; and, just as before, I went to sleep with this + strange companion near me. Yet my rest was this time a troubled one, and + broken by strange and fitful dreams. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever experienced the sort of mental obsession which + gradually causes the brain to be mastered by some single absurd idea—an + idea almost insane, and one which your reason and your will alike repel, + but which nevertheless gradually blends itself with your thought, fastens + itself upon your mind, and grows and grows? I suffered cruelly in this way + on the days that followed my strange adventure. Nothing new occurred, but + in the evening, going out upon the balcony, I found Linda standing upon + her side of the iron fan. We chatted together for a while in the half + darkness, and, as before, I returned to my room to find that in a few + moments the golden cat appeared, leaped upon my bed, made a nest for + herself there, and remained until the morning. I knew now to whom the cat + belonged, for Linda had answered that very same evening, on my speaking of + it, ‘Oh, yes, my cat; doesn’t she look exactly as though she + were made of gold?’ As I said, nothing new had occurred, yet + nevertheless a vague sort of terror began little by little to master me + and to develop itself in my mind, at first merely as a bit of foolish + fancy, and then as a haunting belief that dominated my entire thought, so + that I perpetually seemed to see a thing which it was in reality quite + impossible to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s easy enough to guess,” interrupted the young + lady who had spoken at the beginning of his story. + </p> + <p> + “Linda and the cat were the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + Tribourdeaux smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I should not have been quite so positive as that,” he said, + “even then; but I cannot deny that this ridiculous fancy haunted me + for many hours when I was endeavoring to snatch a little sleep amid the + insomnia that a too active brain produced. Yes, there were moments when + these two beings with greenish eyes, sinuous movements, golden hair, and + mysterious ways, seemed to me to be blended into one, and to be merely the + double manifestation of a single entity. As I said, I saw Linda again and + again, but in spite of all my efforts to come upon her unexpectedly, I + never was able to see them both at the same time. I tried to reason with + myself, to convince myself that there was nothing really inexplicable in + all of this, and I ridiculed myself for being afraid both of a woman and + of a harmless cat. In truth, at the end of all my reasoning, I found that + I was not so much afraid of the animal alone or of the woman alone, but + rather of a sort of quality which existed in my fancy and inspired me with + a fear of something that was incorporeal—fear of a manifestation of + my own spirit, fear of a vague thought, which is, indeed, the very worst + of fears. + </p> + <p> + “I began to be mentally disturbed. After long evenings spent in + confidential and very unconventional chats with Linda, in which little by + little my feelings took on the color of love, I passed long days of secret + torment, such as incipient maniacs must experience. Gradually a resolve + began to grow up in my mind, a desire that became more and more + importunate in demanding a solution of this unceasing and tormenting + doubt; and the more I cared for Linda, the more it seemed absolutely + necessary to push this resolve to its fulfilment. I decided to kill the + cat. + </p> + <p> + “One evening before meeting Linda on the balcony, I took out of my + medical cabinet a jar of glycerin and a small bottle of hydrocyanic acid, + together with one of those little pencils of glass which chemists use in + mixing certain corrosive substances. That evening for the first time Linda + allowed me to caress her. I held her in my arms and passed my hand over + her long hair, which snapped and cracked under my touch in a succession of + tiny sparks. As soon as I regained my room the golden cat, as usual, + appeared before me. I called her to me; she rubbed herself against me with + arched back and extended tail, purring the while with the greatest + amiability. I took the glass pencil in my hand, moistened the point in the + glycerin, and held it out to the animal, which licked it with her long red + tongue. I did this three or four times, but the next time I dipped the + pencil in the acid. The cat unhesitatingly touched it with her tongue. In + an instant she became rigid, and a moment after, a frightful tetanic + convulsion caused her to leap thrice into the air, and then to fall upon + the floor with a dreadful cry—a cry that was truly human. She was + dead! + </p> + <p> + “With the perspiration starting from my forehead and with trembling + hands I threw myself upon the floor beside the body that was not yet cold. + The starting eyes had a look that froze me with horror. The blackened + tongue was thrust out between the teeth; the limbs exhibited the most + remarkable contortions. I mustered all my courage with a violent effort of + will, took the animal by the paws, and left the house. Hurrying down the + silent street, I proceeded to the quays along the banks of the Loire, and, + on reaching them, threw my burden into the river. Until daylight I roamed + around the city, just where I know not; and not until the sky began to + grow pale and then to be flushed with light did I at last have the courage + to return home. As I laid my hand upon the door, I shivered. I had a dread + of finding there still living, as in the celebrated tale of Poe, the + animal that I had so lately put to death. But no, my room was empty. I + fell half-fainting upon my bed, and for the first time I slept, with a + perfect sense of being all alone, a sleep like that of a beast or of an + assassin, until evening came.” + </p> + <p> + Some one here interrupted, breaking in upon the profound silence in which + we had been listening. + </p> + <p> + “I can guess the end. Linda disappeared at the same time as the cat.” + </p> + <p> + “You see perfectly well,” replied Tribourdeaux, “that + there exists between the facts of this story a curious coincidence, since + you are able to guess so exactly their relation. Yes, Linda disappeared. + They found in her apartment her dresses, her linen, all even to the + night-robe that she was to have worn that night, but there was nothing + that could give the slightest clue to her identity. The owner of the house + had let the apartment to ‘Mademoiselle Linda, concert-singer,’ + He knew nothing more. I was summoned before the police magistrate. I had + been seen on the night of her disappearance roaming about with a + distracted air in the vicinity of the river. Luckily the judge knew me; + luckily also, he was a man of no ordinary intelligence. I related to him + privately the entire story, just as I have been telling it to you. He + dismissed the inquiry; yet I may say that very few have ever had so + narrow, an escape as mine from a criminal trial.” + </p> + <p> + For several moments the silence of the company was unbroken. Finally a + gentleman, wishing to relieve the tension, cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Come now, doctor, confess that this is really all fiction; that you + merely want to prevent these ladies from getting any sleep to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Tribourdeaux bowed stiffly, his face unsmiling and a little pale. + </p> + <p> + “You may take it as you will,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + GIL BLAS AND DR. SANGRADO By Alain Rene Le Sage + </h2> + <p> + As I was on my way, who should come across me but Dr. Sangrado, whom I had + not seen since the day of my master’s death. I took the liberty of + touching my hat. He knew me in a twinkling. + </p> + <p> + “Heyday!” said he, with as much warmth as his temperament + would allow him, “the very lad I wanted to see; you have never been + out of my thought. I have occasion for a clever fellow about me, and + pitched upon you as the very thing, if you can read and write.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied I, “if that is all you require, I am your + man.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” rejoined he, “we need look no further. + Come home with me; you will be very comfortable; I shall behave to you + like a brother. You will have no wages, but everything will be found you. + You shall eat and drink according to the true scientific system, and be + taught to cure all diseases. In a word, you shall rather be my young + Sangrado than my footman.” + </p> + <p> + I closed in with the doctor’s proposal, in the hope of becoming an + Esculapius under so inspired a master. He carried me home forthwith, to + install me in my honorable employment; which honorable employment + consisted in writing down the name and residence of the patients who sent + for him in his absence. There had indeed been a register for this purpose, + kept by an old domestic; but she had not the gift of spelling accurately, + and wrote a most perplexing hand. This account I was to keep. It might + truly be called a bill of mortality; for my members all went from bad to + worse during the short time they continued in this system. I was a sort of + bookkeeper for the other world, to take places in the stage, and to see + that the first come were the first served. My pen was always in my hand, + for Dr. Sangrado had more practise than any physician of his time in + Valladolid. He had got into reputation with the public by a certain + professional slang, humored by a medical face, and some extraordinary + cures more honored by implicit faith than scrupulous investigation. + </p> + <p> + He was in no want of patients, nor consequently of property. He did not + keep the best house in the world; we lived with some little attention to + economy. The usual bill of fare consisted of peas, beans, boiled apples, + or cheese. He considered this food as best suited to the human stomach; + that is to say, as most amenable to the grinders, whence it was to + encounter the process of digestion. Nevertheless, easy as was their + passage, he was not for stopping the way with too much of them; and, to be + sure, he was in the right. But though he cautioned the maid and me against + repletion in respect of solids, it was made up by free permission to drink + as much water as we liked. Far from prescribing us any limits in that + direction, he would tell us sometimes: + </p> + <p> + “Drink, my children; health consists in the pliability and moisture + of the parts. Drink water by pailfuls; it is a universal dissolvent; water + liquefies all the salts. Is the course of the blood a little sluggish? + This grand principle sets it forward. Too rapid? Its career is checked.” + </p> + <p> + Our doctor was so orthodox on this head that, though advanced in years, he + drank nothing himself but water. He defined old age to be a natural + consumption which dries us up and wastes us away; on this principle he + deplored the ignorance of those who call wine “old men’s milk.” + He maintained that wine wears them out and corrodes them; and pleaded with + all the force of his eloquence against that liquor, fatal in common both + to the young and old—that friend with a serpent in its bosom—that + pleasure with a dagger under its girdle. + </p> + <p> + In spite of these fine arguments, at the end of a week I felt an ailment + which I was blasphemous enough to saddle on the universal dissolvent and + the new-fangled diet. I stated my symptoms to my master, in the hope that + he would relax the rigor of his regimen and qualify my meals with a little + wine; but his hostility to that liquor was inflexible. + </p> + <p> + “If you have not philosophy enough,” said he, “for pure + water, there are innocent infusions to strengthen the stomach against the + nausea of aqueous quaffings. Sage, for example, has a very pretty flavor; + and if you wish to heighten it into a debauch, it is only mixing rosemary, + wild poppy, and other simples with it—but no compounds!” + </p> + <p> + In vain did he sing the praise of water, and teach me the secret of + composing delicious messes. I was so abstemious that, remarking my + moderation, he said: + </p> + <p> + “In good sooth, Gil Blas, I marvel not that you are no better than + you are; you do not drink enough, my friend. Water taken in a small + quantity serves only to separate the particles of bile and set them in + action; but our practise is to drown them in a copious drench. Fear not, + my good lad, lest a superabundance of liquid should either weaken or chill + your stomach; far from thy better judgment be that silly fear of + unadulterated drink. I will insure you against all consequences; and if my + authority will not serve your turn, read Celsus. That oracle of the + ancients makes an admirable panegyric on water; in short, he says in plain + terms that those who plead an inconstant stomach in favor of wine, publish + a libel on their own viscera, and make their constitution a pretense for + their sensuality.” + </p> + <p> + As it would have been ungenteel in me to run riot on my entrance into the + medical career, I pretended thorough conviction; indeed, I really thought + there was something in it. I therefore went on drinking water on the + authority of Celsus; or, to speak in scientific terms, I began to drown + the bile in copious drenches of that unadulterated liquor; and though I + felt my self more out of order from day to day, prejudice won the cause + against experience. It is evident therefore that I was in the right road + to the practise of physic. + </p> + <p> + Yet I could not always be insensible to the qualms which increased in my + frame, to that degree as to determine me on quitting Dr. Sangrado. But he + invested me with a new office which changed my tone. + </p> + <p> + “Hark you, my child,” said he to me one day; “I am not + one of those hard and ungrateful masters who leave their household to grow + gray in service without a suitable reward. I am well pleased with you, I + have a regard for you; and without waiting till you have served your time, + I will make your fortune. Without more ado, I will initiate you in the + healing art, of which I have for so many years been at the head. Other + physicians make the science to consist of various unintelligible branches; + but I will shorten the road for you, and dispense with the drudgery of + studying natural philosophy, pharmacy, botany, and anatomy. Remember, my + friend, that bleeding and drinking warm water are the two grand principles—the + true secret of curing all the distempers incident to humanity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this marvelous secret which I reveal to you, and which nature, + beyond the reach of my colleagues, has not been able to conceal from me, + is comprehended in these two articles, namely, bleeding and drenching. + Here you have the sum total of my philosophy; you are thoroughly bottomed + in medicine, and may raise yourself to the summit of fame on the shoulders + of my long experience. You may enter into partnership at once, by keeping + the books in the morning and going out to visit patients in the afternoon. + While I dose the nobility and clergy, you shall labor in your vocation + among the lower orders; and when you have felt your ground a little, I + will get you admitted into our body. You are a philosopher, Gil Blas, + though you have never graduated; the common herd of them, though they have + graduated in due form and order, are likely to run out the length of their + tether without knowing their right hand from their left.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked the doctor for having so speedily enabled me to serve as his + deputy; and by way of acknowledging his goodness, promised to follow his + system to the end of my career, with a magnanimous indifference about the + aphorisms of Hippocrates. But that engagement was not to be taken to the + letter. This tender attachment to water went against the grain, and I had + a scheme for drinking wine every day snugly among the patients. I left off + wearing my own suit a second time to take up one of my master’s and + look like an experienced practitioner. After which I brought my medical + theories into play, leaving those it might concern to look to the event. + </p> + <p> + I began on an alguazil (constable) in a pleurisy; he was condemned to be + bled with the utmost rigor of the law, at the same time that the system + was to be replenished copiously with water. Next I made a lodgment in the + veins of a gouty pastry-cook, who roared like a lion by reason of gouty + spasms. I stood on no more ceremony with his blood than with that of the + alguazil, and laid no restriction on his taste for simple liquids. My + prescriptions brought me in twelve reales (shillings)—an incident so + auspicious in my professional career that I only wished for the plagues of + Egypt on all the hale citizens of Valladolid. + </p> + <p> + I was no sooner at home than Dr. Sangrado came in. I talked to him about + the patients I had seen, and paid into his hands eight reales of the + twelve I had received for my prescriptions. + </p> + <p> + “Eight reales!” said he, as he counted them. “Mighty + little for two visits! But we must take things as we find them.” In + the spirit of taking things as he found them, he laid violent hands on six + of the coins, giving me the other two. “Here, Gil Blas,” + continued he, “see what a foundation to build upon. I make over to + you the fourth of all you may bring me. You will soon feather your nest, + my friend; for, by the blessing of Providence, there will be a great deal + of ill-health this year.” + </p> + <p> + I had reason to be content with my dividend; since, having determined to + keep back the third part of what I recovered in my rounds, and afterward + touching another fourth of the remainder, then half of the whole, if + arithmetic is anything more than a deception, would become my perquisite. + This inspired me with new zeal for my profession. + </p> + <p> + The next day, as soon as I had dined, I resumed my medical paraphernalia + and took the field once more. I visited several patients on the list, and + treated their several complaints in one invariable routine. Hitherto + things had gone well, and no one, thank Heaven, had risen up in rebellion + against my prescriptions. But let a physician’s cures be as + extraordinary as they will, some quack or other is always ready to rip up + his reputation. + </p> + <p> + I was called in to a grocer’s son in a dropsy. Whom should I find + there before me but a little black-looking physician, by name Dr. + Cuchillo, introduced by a relation of the family. I bowed round most + profoundly, but dipped lowest to the personage whom I took to have been + invited to a consultation with me. + </p> + <p> + He returned my compliment with a distant air; then, having stared me in + the face for a few seconds, “Sir,” said he, “I beg + pardon for being inquisitive; I thought I was acquainted with all my + brethren in Valladolid, but I confess your physiognomy is altogether new. + You must have been settled but a short time in town.” + </p> + <p> + I avowed myself a young practitioner, acting as yet under direction of Dr. + Sangrado. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you joy,” replied he politely; “you are studying + under a great man. You must doubtless have seen a vast deal of sound + practise, young as you appear to be.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke this with so easy an assurance that I was at a loss whether he + meant it seriously, or was laughing at me. While I was conning over my + reply, the grocer, seizing on the opportunity, said: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I am persuaded of your both being perfectly competent in + your art; have the goodness without ado to take the case in hand, and + devise some effectual means for the restoration of my son’s health.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the little pulse-counter set himself about reviewing the patient’s + situation; and after having dilated to me on all the symptoms, asked me + what I thought the fittest method of treatment. + </p> + <p> + “I am of opinion,” replied I, “that he should be bled + once a day, and drink as much warm water as he can swallow.” + </p> + <p> + At these words, our diminutive doctor said to me, with a malicious simper, + “And so you think such a course will save the patient?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a doubt of it,” exclaimed I in a confident tone; “it + must produce that effect, because it is a certain method of cure for all + distempers. Ask Señor Sangrado.” + </p> + <p> + “At that rate,” retorted he, “Celsus is altogether in + the wrong; for he contends that the readiest way to cure a dropsical + subject is to let him almost die of hunger and thirst.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for Celsus,” interrupted I, “he is no oracle of + mine; he is as fallible as the meanest of us; I often have occasion to + bless myself for going contrary to his dogmas.” + </p> + <p> + “I discover by your language,” said Cuchillo, “the safe + and sure method of practise Dr. Sangrado instils into his pupils! Bleeding + and drenching are the extent of his resources. No wonder so many worthy + people are cut off under his direction!” + </p> + <p> + “No defamation!” interrupted I, with some acrimony. “A + member of the faculty had better not begin throwing stones. Come, come, my + learned doctor, patients can get to the other world without bleeding and + warm water; and I question whether the most deadly of us has ever signed + more passports than yourself. If you have any crow to pluck with Señor + Sangrado, publish an attack on him; he will answer you, and we shall soon + see who will have the best of the battle.” + </p> + <p> + “By all the saints in the calendar,” swore he in a transport + of passion, “you little know whom you are talking to! I have a + tongue and a fist, my friend; and am not afraid of Sangrado, who with all + his arrogance and affectation is but a ninny.” + </p> + <p> + The size of the little death-dealer made me hold his anger cheap. I gave + him a sharp retort; he sent back as good as I brought, till at last we + came to fisticuffs. We had pulled a few handfuls of hair from each other’s + head before the grocer and his kinsman could part us. When they had + brought this about, they feed me for my attendance and retained my + antagonist, whom they thought the more skilful of the two. + </p> + <p> + Another adventure succeeded close on the heels of this. I went to see a + huge singer in a fever. As soon as he heard me talk of warm water, he + showed himself so adverse to this specific as to fall into a fit of + swearing. He abused me in all possible shapes, and threatened to throw me + out of the window. I was in a greater hurry to get out of his house than + to get in. + </p> + <p> + I did not choose to see any more patients that day, and repaired to the + inn where I had agreed to meet Fabricio. He was there first. As we found + ourselves in a tippling humor, we drank hard, and returned to our + employers in a pretty pickle; that is to say, so-so in the upper story. + Señor Sangrado was not aware of my being drunk, because he took the lively + gestures which accompanied the relation of my quarrel with the little + doctor for an effect of the agitation not yet subsided after the battle. + Besides, he came in for his share in my report; and, feeling himself + nettled by the insults of Cuchillo— + </p> + <p> + “You have done well, Gil Blas,” said he, “to defend the + character of our practise against this little abortion of the faculty. So + he takes upon him to set his face against watery drenches in dropsical + cases? An ignorant fellow! I maintain, I do, in my own person, that the + use of them may be reconciled to the best theories. Yes, water is a cure + for all sorts of dropsies, just as it is good for rheumatisms and the + green sickness. It is excellent, too, in those fevers where the effect is + at once to parch and to chill; and even miraculous in those disorders + ascribed to cold, thin, phlegmatic, and pituitous humors. This opinion may + appear strange to young practitioners like Cuchillo, but it is right + orthodox in the best and soundest systems; so that if persons of that + description were capable of taking a philosophical view, instead of crying + me down, they would become my most zealous advocates.” + </p> + <p> + In his rage, he never suspected me of drinking; for to exasperate him + still more against the little doctor, I had thrown into my recital some + circumstances of my own addition. Yet, engrossed as he was by what I had + told him, he could not help taking notice that I drank more water than + usual that evening. + </p> + <p> + In fact, the wine had made me very thirsty. Any one but Sangrado would + have distrusted my being so very dry as to swallow down glass after glass; + but, as for him, he took it for granted in the simplicity of his heart + that I had begun to acquire a relish for aqueous potations. + </p> + <p> + “Apparently, Gil Blas,” said he, with a gracious smile, + “you have no longer such a dislike to water. As Heaven is my judge, + you quaff it off like nectar! It is no wonder, my friend; I was certain + you would before long take a liking to that liquor.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied I, “there is a tide in the affairs of + men; with my present lights I would give all the wine in Valladolid for a + pint of water.” + </p> + <p> + This answer delighted the doctor, who would not lose so fine an + opportunity of expatiating on the excellence of water. He undertook to + ring the changes once more in its praise; not like a hireling pleader, but + as an enthusiast in a most worthy cause. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand times,” exclaimed he, “a thousand and a + thousand times of greater value, as being more innocent than all our + modern taverns, were those baths of ages past, whither the people went, + not shamefully to squander their fortunes and expose their lives by + swilling themselves with wine, but assembling there for the decent and + economical amusement of drinking warm water. It is difficult to admire + enough the patriotic forecast of those ancient politicians who established + places of public resort where water was dealt out gratis to all comers, + and who confined wine to the shops of the apothecaries, that its use might + be prohibited save under the direction of physicians. What a stroke of + wisdom! It is doubtless to preserve the seeds of that antique frugality, + emblematic of the golden age, that persons are found to this day, like you + and me, who drink nothing but water, and are persuaded they possess a + prevention or a cure for every ailment, provided our warm water has never + boiled; for I have observed that water when it is boiled is heavier, and + sits less easily on the stomach.” + </p> + <p> + While he was holding forth thus eloquently, I was in danger more than once + of splitting my sides with laughing. But I contrived to keep my + countenance; nay, more, to chime in with the doctor’s theory. I + found fault with the use of wine, and pitied mankind for having contracted + an untoward relish for so pernicious a beverage. Then, finding my thirst + not sufficiently allayed, I filled a large goblet with water, and, after + having swilled it like a horse— + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir,” said I to my master, “let us drink + plentifully of this beneficial liquor. Let us make those early + establishments of dilution you so much regret live again in your house.” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hands in ecstasy at these words, and preached to me for a + whole hour about suffering no liquid but water to pass my lips. To confirm + the habit, I promised to drink a large quantity every evening; and to keep + my word with less violence to my private inclinations, I went to bed with + a determined purpose of going to the tavern every day. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A FIGHT WITH A CANNON By Victor Hugo + </h2> + <p> + La vieuville was suddenly cut short by a cry of despair, and a the same + time a noise was heard wholly unlike any other sound. The cry and sounds + came from within the vessel. + </p> + <p> + The captain and lieutenant rushed toward the gun-deck but could not get + down. All the gunners were pouring up in dismay. + </p> + <p> + Something terrible had just happened. + </p> + <p> + One of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four pounder, had broken + loose. + </p> + <p> + This is the most dangerous accident that can possibly take place on + shipboard. Nothing more terrible can happen to a sloop of war in open sea + and under full sail. + </p> + <p> + A cannon that breaks its moorings suddenly becomes some strange, + supernatural beast. It is a machine transformed into a monster. That short + mass on wheels moves like a billiard-ball, rolls with the rolling of the + ship, plunges with the pitching goes, comes, stops, seems to meditate, + starts on its course again, shoots like an arrow from one end of the + vessel to the other, whirls around, slips away, dodges, rears, bangs, + crashes, kills, exterminates. It is a battering ram capriciously + assaulting a wall. Add to this the fact that the ram is of metal, the wall + of wood. + </p> + <p> + It is matter set free; one might say, this eternal slave was avenging + itself; it seems as if the total depravity concealed in what we call + inanimate things has escaped, and burst forth all of a sudden; it appears + to lose patience, and to take a strange mysterious revenge; nothing more + relentless than this wrath of the inanimate. This enraged lump leaps like + a panther, it has the clumsiness of an elephant, the nimbleness of a + mouse, the obstinacy of an ox, the uncertainty of the billows, the zigzag + of the lightning, the deafness of the grave. It weighs ten thousand + pounds, and it rebounds like a child’s ball. It spins and then + abruptly darts off at right angles. + </p> + <p> + And what is to be done? How put an end to it? A tempest ceases, a cyclone + passes over, a wind dies down, a broken mast can be replaced, a leak can + be stopped, a fire extinguished, but what will become of this enormous + brute of bronze. How can it be captured? You can reason with a bulldog, + astonish a bull, fascinate a boa, frighten a tiger, tame a lion; but you + have no resource against this monster, a loose cannon. You can not kill + it, it is dead; and at the same time it lives. It lives with a sinister + life which comes to it from the infinite. The deck beneath it gives it + full swing. It is moved by the ship, which is moved by the sea, which is + moved by the wind. This destroyer is a toy. The ship, the waves, the + winds, all play with it, hence its frightful animation. What is to be done + with this apparatus? How fetter this stupendous engine of destruction? How + anticipate its comings and goings, its returns, its stops, its shocks? Any + one of its blows on the side of the ship may stave it in. How foretell its + frightful meanderings? It is dealing with a projectile, which alters its + mind, which seems to have ideas, and changes its direction every instant. + How check the course of what must be avoided? The horrible cannon + struggles, advances, backs, strikes right, strikes left, retreats, passes + by, disconcerts expectation, grinds up obstacles, crushes men like flies. + All the terror of the situation is in the fluctuations of the flooring. + How fight an inclined plane subject to caprices? The ship has, so to + speak, in its belly, an imprisoned thunderstorm, striving to escape; + something like a thunderbolt rumbling above an earthquake. + </p> + <p> + In an instant the whole crew was on foot. It was the fault of the gun + captain, who had neglected to fasten the screw-nut of the mooring-chain, + and had insecurely clogged the four wheels of the gun carriage; this gave + play to the sole and the framework, separated the two platforms, and the + breeching. The tackle had given way, so that the cannon was no longer firm + on its carriage. The stationary breeching, which prevents recoil, was not + in use at this time. A heavy sea struck the port, the carronade, + insecurely fastened, had recoiled and broken its chain, and began its + terrible course over the deck. + </p> + <p> + To form an idea of this strange sliding, let one imagine a drop of water + running over a glass. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the fastenings gave way, the gunners were in the + battery, some in groups, others scattered about, busied with the customary + work among sailors getting ready for a signal for action. The carronade, + hurled forward by the pitching of the vessel, made a gap in this crowd of + men and crushed four at the first blow; then sliding back and shot out + again as the ship rolled, it cut in two a fifth unfortunate, and knocked a + piece of the battery against the larboard side with such force as to + unship it. This caused the cry of distress just heard. All the men rushed + to the companion-way. The gun-deck was vacated in a twinkling. + </p> + <p> + The enormous gun was left alone. It was given up to itself. It was its own + master and master of the ship. It could do what it pleased. This whole + crew, accustomed to laugh in time of battle, now trembled. To describe the + terror is impossible. + </p> + <p> + Captain Boisberthelot and Lieutenant la Vieuville, although both dauntless + men, stopped at the head of the companion-way and, dumb, pale, and + hesitating, looked down on the deck below. Some one elbowed past and went + down. + </p> + <p> + It was their passenger, the peasant, the man of whom they had just been + speaking a moment before. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the foot of the companion-way, he stopped. + </p> + <p> + The cannon was rushing back and forth on the deck. One might have supposed + it to be the living chariot of the Apocalypse. The marine lantern swinging + overhead added a dizzy shifting of light and shade to the picture. The + form of the cannon disappeared in the violence of its course, and it + looked now black in the light, now mysteriously white in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + It went on in its destructive work. It had already shattered four other + guns and made two gaps in the side of the ship, fortunately above the + water-line, but where the water would come in, in case of heavy weather. + It rushed frantically against the framework; the strong timbers withstood + the shock; the curved shape of the wood gave them great power of + resistance; but they creaked beneath the blows of this huge club, beating + on all sides at once, with a strange sort of ubiquity. The percussions of + a grain of shot shaken in a bottle are not swifter or more senseless. The + four wheels passed back and forth over the dead men, cutting them, carving + them, slashing them, till the five corpses were a score of stumps rolling + across the deck; the heads of the dead men seemed to cry out; streams of + blood curled over the deck with the rolling of the vessel; the planks, + damaged in several places, began to gape open. The whole ship was filled + with the horrid noise and confusion. + </p> + <p> + The captain promptly recovered his presence of mind and ordered everything + that could check and impede the cannon’s mad course to be thrown + through the hatchway down on the gun-deck—mattresses, hammocks, + spare sails, rolls of cordage, bags belonging to the crew, and bales of + counterfeit assignats, of which the corvette carried a large quantity—a + characteristic piece of English villainy regarded as legitimate warfare. + </p> + <p> + But what could these rags do? As nobody dared to go below to dispose of + them properly, they were reduced to lint in a few minutes. + </p> + <p> + There was just sea enough to make the accident as bad as possible. A + tempest would have been desirable, for it might have upset the cannon, and + with its four wheels once in the air there would be some hope of getting + it under control. Meanwhile, the havoc increased. + </p> + <p> + There were splits and fractures in the masts, which are set into the + framework of the keel and rise above the decks of ships like great, round + pillars. The convulsive blows of the cannon had cracked the mizzenmast, + and had cut into the mainmast. + </p> + <p> + The battery was being ruined. Ten pieces out of thirty were disabled; the + breaches in the side of the vessel were increasing, and the corvette was + beginning to leak. + </p> + <p> + The old passenger having gone down to the gun-deck, stood like a man of + stone at the foot of the steps. He cast a stern glance over this scene of + devastation. He did not move. It seemed impossible to take a step forward. + Every movement of the loose carronade threatened the ship’s + destruction. A few moments more and shipwreck would be inevitable. + </p> + <p> + They must perish or put a speedy end to the disaster; some course must be + decided on; but what? What an opponent was this carronade! Something must + be done to stop this terrible madness—to capture this lightning—to + overthrow this thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + Boisberthelot said to La Vieuville: + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in God, chevalier?” + </p> + <p> + La Vieuville replied: + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no. Sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “During a tempest?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and in moments like this.” + </p> + <p> + “God alone can save us from this,” said Boisberthelot. + </p> + <p> + Everybody was silent, letting the carronade continue its horrible din. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the waves beating against the ship responded with their blows to + the shocks of the cannon. It was like two hammers alternating. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, in the midst of this inaccessible ring, where the escaped cannon + was leaping, a man was seen to appear, with an iron bar in his hand. He + was the author of the catastrophe, the captain of the gun, guilty of + criminal carelessness, and the cause of the accident, the master of the + carronade. Having done the mischief, he was anxious to repair it. He had + seized the iron bar in one hand, a tiller-rope with a slip-noose in the + other, and jumped, down the hatchway to the gun-deck. + </p> + <p> + Then began an awful sight; a Titanic scene; the contest between gun and + gunner; the battle of matter and intelligence; the duel between man and + the inanimate. + </p> + <p> + The man stationed himself in a corner, and, with bar and rope in his two + hands, he leaned against one of the riders, braced himself on his legs, + which seemed two steel posts; and livid, calm, tragic, as if rooted to the + deck, he waited. + </p> + <p> + He waited for the cannon to pass by him. + </p> + <p> + The gunner knew his gun, and it seemed to him as if the gun ought to know + him. He had lived long with it. How many times he had thrust his hand into + its mouth! It was his own familiar monster. He began to speak to it as if + it were his dog. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he said. Perhaps he loved it. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to wish it to come to him. + </p> + <p> + But to come to him was to come upon him. And then he would be lost. How + could he avoid being crushed? That was the question. All looked on in + terror. + </p> + <p> + Not a breast breathed freely, unless perhaps that of the old man, who was + alone in the battery with the two contestants, a stern witness. + </p> + <p> + He might be crushed himself by the cannon. He did not stir. + </p> + <p> + Beneath them the sea blindly directed the contest. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the gunner, accepting this frightful hand-to-hand + conflict, challenged the cannon, some chance rocking of the sea caused the + carronade to remain for an instant motionless and as if stupefied. “Come, + now!” said the man. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to listen. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly it leaped toward him. The man dodged the blow. + </p> + <p> + The battle began. Battle unprecedented. Frailty struggling against the + invulnerable. The gladiator of flesh attacking the beast of brass. On one + side, brute force; on the other, a human soul. + </p> + <p> + All this was taking place in semi-darkness. It was like the shadowy vision + of a miracle. + </p> + <p> + A soul—strange to say, one would have thought the cannon also had a + soul; but a soul full of hatred and rage. This sightless thing seemed to + have eyes. The monster appeared to lie in wait for the man. One would have + at least believed that there was craft in this mass. It also chose its + time. It was a strange, gigantic insect of metal, having or seeming to + have the will of a demon. For a moment this colossal locust would beat + against the low ceiling overhead, then it would come down on its four + wheels like a tiger on its four paws, and begin to run at the man. He, + supple, nimble, expert, writhed away like an adder from all these + lightning movements. He avoided a collision, but the blows which he + parried fell against the vessel, and continued their work of destruction. + </p> + <p> + An end of broken chain was left hanging to the carronade. This chain had + in some strange way become twisted about the screw of the cascabel. One + end of the chain was fastened to the gun-carriage. The other, left loose, + whirled desperately about the cannon, making all its blows more dangerous. + </p> + <p> + The screw held it in a firm grip, adding a thong to a battering-ram, + making a terrible whirlwind around the cannon, an iron lash in a brazen + hand. This chain complicated the contest. + </p> + <p> + However, the man went on fighting. Occasionally, it was the man who + attacked the cannon; he would creep along the side of the vessel, bar and + rope in hand; and the cannon, as if it understood, and as though + suspecting some snare, would flee away. The man, bent on victory, pursued + it. + </p> + <p> + Such things can not long continue. The cannon seemed to say to itself, all + of a sudden, “Come, now! Make an end of it!” and it stopped. + One felt that the crisis was at hand. The cannon, as if in suspense, + seemed to have, or really had—for to all it was a living being—a + ferocious malice prepense. It made a sudden, quick dash at the gunner. The + gunner sprang out of the way, let it pass by, and cried out to it with a + laugh, “Try it again!” The cannon, as if enraged, smashed a + carronade on the port side; then, again seized by the invisible sling + which controlled it, it was hurled to the starboard side at the man, who + made his escape. Three carronades gave way under the blows of the cannon; + then, as if blind and not knowing what more to do, it turned its back on + the man, rolled from stern to bow, injured the stern and made a breach in + the planking of the prow. The man took refuge at the foot of the steps, + not far from the old man who was looking on. The gunner held his iron bar + in rest. The cannon seemed to notice it, and without taking the trouble to + turn around, slid back on the man, swift as the blow of an axe. The man, + driven against the side of the ship, was lost. The whole crew cried out + with horror. + </p> + <p> + But the old passenger, till this moment motionless, darted forth more + quickly than any of this wildly swift rapidity. He seized a package of + counterfeit assignats, and, at the risk of being crushed, succeeded in + throwing it between the wheels of the carronade. This decisive and + perilous movement could not have been made with more exactness and + precision by a man trained in all the exercises described in Durosel’s + “Manual of Gun Practice at Sea.” + </p> + <p> + The package had the effect of a clog. A pebble may stop a log, the branch + of a tree turn aside an avalanche. The carronade stumbled. The gunner, + taking advantage of this critical opportunity, plunged his iron bar + between the spokes of one of the hind wheels. The cannon stopped. It + leaned forward. The man, using the bar as a lever, held it in equilibrium. + The heavy mass was overthrown, with the crash of a falling bell, and the + man, rushing with all his might, dripping with perspiration, passed the + slipnoose around the bronze neck of the subdued monster. + </p> + <p> + It was ended. The man had conquered. The ant had control over the + mastodon; the pygmy had taken the thunderbolt prisoner. + </p> + <p> + The mariners and sailors clapped their hands. + </p> + <p> + The whole crew rushed forward with cables and chains, and in an instant + the cannon was secured. + </p> + <p> + The gunner saluted the passenger. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “you have saved my life.” + </p> + <p> + The old man had resumed his impassive attitude, and made no reply. + </p> + <p> + The man had conquered, but the cannon might be said to have conquered as + well. Immediate shipwreck had been avoided, but the corvette was not + saved. The damage to the vessel seemed beyond repair. There were five + breaches in her sides, one, very large, in the bow; twenty of the thirty + carronades lay useless in their frames. The one which had just been + captured and chained again was disabled; the screw of the cascabel was + sprung, and consequently leveling the gun made impossible. The battery was + reduced to nine pieces. The ship was leaking. It was necessary to repair + the damages at once, and to work the pumps. + </p> + <p> + The gun-deck, now that one could look over it, was frightful to behold. + The inside of an infuriated elephant’s cage would not be more + completely demolished. + </p> + <p> + However great might be the necessity of escaping observation, the + necessity of immediate safety was still more imperative to the corvette. + They had been obliged to light up the deck with lanterns hung here and + there on the sides. + </p> + <p> + However, all the while this tragic play was going on, the crew were + absorbed by a question of life and death, and they were wholly ignorant of + what was taking place outside the vessel. The fog had grown thicker; the + weather had changed; the wind had worked its pleasure with the ship; they + were out of their course, with Jersey and Guernsey close at hand, further + to the south than they ought to have been, and in the midst of a heavy + sea. Great billows kissed the gaping wounds of the vessel—kisses + full of danger. The rocking of the sea threatened destruction. The breeze + had become a gale. A squall, a tempest, perhaps, was brewing. It was + impossible to see four waves ahead. + </p> + <p> + While the crew were hastily repairing the damages to the gun-deck, + stopping the leaks, and putting in place the guns which had been uninjured + in the disaster, the old passenger had gone on deck again. + </p> + <p> + He stood with his back against the mainmast. + </p> + <p> + He had not noticed a proceeding which had taken place on the vessel. The + Chevalier de la Vieuville had drawn up the marines in line on both sides + of the mainmast, and at the sound of the boatswain’s whistle the + sailors formed in line, standing on the yards. + </p> + <p> + The Count de Boisberthelot approached the passenger. + </p> + <p> + Behind the captain walked a man, haggard, out of breath, his dress + disordered, but still with a look of satisfaction on his face. + </p> + <p> + It was the gunner who had just shown himself so skilful in subduing + monsters, and who had gained the mastery over the cannon. + </p> + <p> + The count gave the military salute to the old man in peasant’s + dress, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “General, there is the man.” + </p> + <p> + The gunner remained standing, with downcast eyes, in military attitude. + </p> + <p> + The Count de Boisberthelot continued: + </p> + <p> + “General, in consideration of what this man has done, do you not + think there is something due him from his commander?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Please give your orders,” replied Boisberthelot. + </p> + <p> + “It is for you to give them, you are the captain.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are the general,” replied Boisberthelot. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at the gunner. + </p> + <p> + “Come forward,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The gunner approached. + </p> + <p> + The old man turned toward the Count de Boisberthelot, took off the cross + of Saint-Louis from the captain’s coat and fastened it on the gunner’s + jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah!” cried the sailors. + </p> + <p> + The mariners presented arms. + </p> + <p> + And the old passenger, pointing to the dazzled gunner, added: + </p> + <p> + “Now, have this man shot.” + </p> + <p> + Dismay succeeded the cheering. + </p> + <p> + Then in the midst of the death-like stillness, the old man raised his + voice and said: + </p> + <p> + “Carelessness has compromised this vessel. At this very hour it is + perhaps lost. To be at sea is to be in front of the enemy. A ship making a + voyage is an army waging war. The tempest is concealed, but it is at hand. + The whole sea is an ambuscade. Death is the penalty of any misdemeanor + committed in the face of the enemy. No fault is reparable. Courage should + be rewarded, and negligence punished.” + </p> + <p> + These words fell one after another, slowly, solemnly, in a sort of + inexorable metre, like the blows of an axe upon an oak. + </p> + <p> + And the man, looking at the soldiers, added: + </p> + <p> + “Let it be done.” + </p> + <p> + The man on whose jacket hung the shining cross of Saint-Louis bowed his + head. + </p> + <p> + At a signal from Count de Boisberthelot, two sailors went below and came + back bringing the hammock-shroud; the chaplain, who since they sailed had + been at prayer in the officers’ quarters, accompanied the two + sailors; a sergeant detached twelve marines from the line and arranged + them in two files, six by six; the gunner, without uttering a word, placed + himself between the two files. The chaplain, crucifix in hand, advanced + and stood beside him. “March,” said the sergeant. The platoon + marched with slow steps to the bow of the vessel. The two sailors, + carrying the shroud, followed. A gloomy silence fell over the vessel. A + hurricane howled in the distance. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, a light flashed, a report sounded through the + darkness, then all was still, and the sound of a body falling into the sea + was heard. + </p> + <p> + The old passenger, still leaning against the mainmast, had crossed his + arms, and was buried in thought. + </p> + <p> + Boisberthelot pointed to him with the forefinger of his left hand, and + said to La Vieuville in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “La Vendée has a head.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TONTON By A. Cheneviere + </h2> + <p> + There are men who seem born to be soldiers. They have the face, the + bearing, the gesture, the quality of mind. But there are others who have + been forced to become so, in spite of themselves and of the rebellion of + reason and the heart, through a rash deed, a disappointment in love, or + simply because their destiny demanded it, being sons of soldiers and + gentlemen. Such is the case of my friend Captain Robert de X——. + And I said to him one summer evening, under the great trees of his + terrace, which is washed by the green and sluggish Marne: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, old fellow, you are sensitive. What the deuce would you have + done on a campaign where you were obliged to shoot, to strike down with a + sabre and to kill? And then, too, you have never fought except against the + Arabs, and that is quite another thing.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, a little sadly. His handsome mouth, with its blond mustache, + was almost like that of a youth. His blue eyes were dreamy for an instant, + then little by little he began to confide to me his thought, his + recollections and all that was mystic and poetic in his soldier’s + heart. + </p> + <p> + “You know we are soldiers in my family. We have a marshal of France + and two officers who died on the field of honor. I have perhaps obeyed a + law of heredity. I believe rather that my imagination has carried me away. + I saw war through my reveries of epic poetry. In my fancy I dwelt only + upon the intoxication of victory, the triumphant flourish of trumpets and + women throwing flowers to the victor. And then I loved the sonorous words + of the great captains, the dramatic representations of martial glory. My + father was in the third regiment of zouaves, the one which was hewn in + pieces at Reichshofen, in the Niedervald, and which in 1859 at Palestro, + made that famous charge against the Austrians and hurled them into the + great canal. It was superb; without them the Italian divisions would have + been lost. Victor Emmanuel marched with the zouaves. After this affair, + while still deeply moved, not by fear but with admiration for this + regiment of demons and heroes, he embraced their old colonel and declared + that he would be proud, were he not a king, to join the regiment. Then the + zouaves acclaimed him corporal of the Third. And for a long time on the + anniversary festival of St. Palestro, when the roll was called, they + shouted ‘Corporal of the first squad, in the first company of the + first battalion, Victor Emmanuel,’ and a rough old sergeant solemnly + responded: ‘Sent as long into Italy.’ + </p> + <p> + “That is the way my father talked to us, and by these recitals, a + soldier was made of a dreamy child. But later, what a disillusion! Where + is the poetry of battle? I have never made any campaign except in Africa, + but that has been enough for me. And I believe the army surgeon is right, + who said to me one day: ‘If instantaneous photographs could be taken + after a battle, and millions of copies made and scattered through the + world, there would be no more war. The people would refuse to take part in + it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Africa, yes, I have suffered there. On one occasion I was sent to + the south, six hundred kilometres from Oran, beyond the oasis of Fignig, + to destroy a tribe of rebels.... On this expedition we had a pretty + serious affair with a military chief of the great desert, called + Bon-Arredji. We killed nearly all of the tribe, and seized nearly fifteen + hundred sheep; in short, it was a complete success. We also captured the + wives and children of the chief. A dreadful thing happened at that time, + under my very eyes! A woman was fleeing, pursued by a black mounted + soldier. She turned around and shot at him with a revolver. The + horse-soldier was furious, and struck her down with one stroke of his + sabre. I did not have the time to interfere. I dismounted from my horse to + take the woman up. She was dead, and almost decapitated. I uttered not one + word of reproach to the Turkish soldier, who smiled fiercely, and turned + back. + </p> + <p> + “I placed the poor body sadly on the sand, and was going to remount + my horse, when I perceived, a few steps back, behind a thicket, a little + girl five or six years old. I recognized at once that she was a Touareg, + of white race, notwithstanding her tawny color. I approached her. Perhaps + she was not afraid of me, because I was white like herself. I took her on + the saddle with me, without resistance on her part, and returned slowly to + the place where we were to camp for the night. I expected to place her + under the care of the women whom we had taken prisoners, and were carrying + away with us. But all refused, saying that she was a vile little Touareg, + belonging to a race which carries misfortune with it and brings forth only + traitors. + </p> + <p> + “I was greatly embarrassed. I would not abandon the child.... I felt + somewhat responsible for the crime, having been one of those who had + directed the massacre. I had made an orphan! I must take her part. One of + the prisoners of the band had said to me (I understand a little of the + gibberish of these people) that if I left the little one to these women + they would kill her because she was the daughter of a Touareg, whom the + chief had preferred to them, and that they hated the petted, spoiled + child, whom he had given rich clothes and jewels. What was to be done? + </p> + <p> + “I had a wide-awake orderly, a certain Michel of Batignolles. I + called him and said to him: ‘Take care of the little one.’ + ‘Very well, Captain, I will take her in charge.’ He then + petted the child, made her sociable, and led her away with him, and two + hours later he had manufactured a little cradle for her out of biscuit + boxes which are used on the march for making coffins. In the evening + Michel put her to bed in it. He had christened her ‘Tonton,’ an + abbreviation of Touareg. In the morning the cradle was bound on an ass, + and behold Tonton following the column with the baggage, in the convoy of + the rear guard, under the indulgent eye of Michel. + </p> + <p> + “This lasted for days and weeks. In the evening at the halting + place, Tonton was brought into my tent, with the goat, which furnished her + the greater part of her meals, and her inseparable friend, a large + chameleon, captured by Michel, and responding or not responding to the + name of Achilles. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well! old fellow, you may believe me or not; but it gave me + pleasure to see the little one sleeping in her cradle, during the short + night full of alarm, when I felt the weariness of living, the dull sadness + of seeing my companions dying, one by one, leaving the caravan; the + enervation of the perpetual state of alertness, always attacking or being + attacked, for weeks and months. I, with the gentle instincts of a + civilized man, was forced to order the beheading of spies and traitors, + the binding of women in chains and the kidnapping of children, to raid the + herds, to make of myself an Attila. And this had to be done without a + moment of wavering, and I the cold and gentle Celt, whom you know, + remained there, under the scorching African sun. Then what repose of soul, + what strange meditations were mine, when free at last, at night, in my + sombre tent, around which death might be prowling, I could watch the + little Touareg, saved by me, sleeping in her cradle by the side of her + chameleon lizard. Ridiculous, is it not? But, go there and lead the life + of a brute, of a plunderer and assassin, and you will see how at times + your civilized imagination will wander away to take refuge from itself. + </p> + <p> + “I could have rid myself of Tonton. In an oasis we met some rebels, + bearing a flag of truce, and exchanged the women for guns and ammunition. + I kept the little one, notwithstanding the five months of march we must + make, before returning to Tlemcen. She had grown gentle, was inclined to + be mischievous, but was yielding and almost affectionate with me. She ate + with the rest, never wanting to sit down, but running from one to another + around the table. She had proud little manners, as if she knew herself to + be a daughter of the chief’s favorite, obeying only the officers and + treating Michel with an amusing scorn. All this was to have a sad ending. + One day I did not find the chameleon in the cradle, though I remembered to + have seen it there the evening before. I had even taken it in my hands and + caressed it before Tonton, who had just gone to bed. Then I had given it + back to her and gone out. Accordingly I questioned her. She took me by the + hand, and leading me to the camp fire, showed me the charred skeleton of + the chameleon, explaining to me, as best she could, that she had thrown it + in the fire, because I had petted it! Oh! women! women! And she gave a + horrible imitation of the lizard, writhing in the midst of the flames, and + she smiled with delighted eyes. I was indignant. I seized her by the arm, + shook her a little, and finished by boxing her ears. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, from that day she appeared not to know me. Tonton + and I sulked; we were angry. However, one morning, as I felt the sun was + going to be terrible, I went myself to the baggage before the loading for + departure, and arranged a sheltering awning over the cradle. Then to make + peace, I embraced my little friend. But as soon as we were on the march, + she furiously tore off the canvas with which I had covered the cradle. + Michel put it all in place again, and there was a new revolt. In short, it + was necessary to yield because she wanted to be able to lean outside of + her box, under the fiery sun, to look at the head of the column, of which + I had the command. I saw this on arriving at the resting place. Then + Michel brought her under my tent. She had not yet fallen asleep, but + followed with her eyes all of my movements, with a grave air, without a + smile, or gleam of mischief. + </p> + <p> + “She refused to eat and drink; the next day she was ill, with sunken + eyes and body burning with fever. When the major wished to give her + medicine she refused to take it and ground her teeth together to keep from + swallowing. + </p> + <p> + “There remained still six days’ march before arriving at Oran. + I wanted to give her into the care of the nuns. She died before I could do + so, very suddenly, with a severe attack of meningitis. She never wanted to + see me again. She was buried under a clump of African shrubs near + Geryville, in her little campaign cradle. And do you know what was found + in her cradle? The charred skeleton of the poor chameleon, which had been + the indirect cause of her death. Before leaving the bivouac, where she had + committed her crime, she had picked it out of the glowing embers, and + brought it into the cradle, and that is why her little fingers were + burned. Since the beginning of the meningitis the major had never been + able to explain the cause of these burns.” + </p> + <p> + Robert was silent for an instant, then murmured: “Poor little one! I + feel remorseful. If I had not given her that blow.... who knows?... she + would perhaps be living still.... + </p> + <p> + “My story is sad, is it not? Ah, well, it is still the sweetest of + my African memories. War is beautiful! Eh?” + </p> + <p> + And Robert shrugged his shoulders.... + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE LAST LESSON By Alphonse Daudet + </h2> + <p> + I started for school very late that morning and was in great dread of a + scolding, especially because M. Hamel had said that he would question us + on participles, and I did not know the first word about them. For a moment + I thought of running away and spending the day out of doors. It was so + warm, so bright! The birds were chirping at the edge of the woods; and in + the open field back of the saw-mill the Prussian soldiers were drilling. + It was all much more tempting than the rule for participles, but I had the + strength to resist, and hurried off to school. + </p> + <p> + When I passed the town hall there was a crowd in front of the + bulletin-board. For the last two years all our bad news had come from + there—the lost battles, the draft, the orders of the commanding + officer—and I thought to myself, without stopping: + </p> + <p> + “What can be the matter now?” + </p> + <p> + Then, as I hurried by as fast as I could go, the blacksmith, Wachter, who + was there, with his apprentice, reading the bulletin, called after me: + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go so fast, bub; you’ll get to your school in + plenty of time!” + </p> + <p> + I thought he was making fun of me, and reached M. Hamel’s little + garden all out of breath. + </p> + <p> + Usually, when school began, there was a great bustle, which could be heard + out in the street, the opening and closing of desks, lessons repeated in + unison, very loud, with our hands over our ears to understand better, and + the teacher’s great ruler rapping on the table. But now it was all + so still! I had counted on the commotion to get to my desk without being + seen; but, of course, that day everything had to be as quiet as Sunday + morning. Through the window I saw my classmates, already in their places, + and M. Hamel walking up and down with his terrible iron ruler under his + arm. I had to open the door and go in before everybody. You can imagine + how I blushed and how frightened I was. + </p> + <p> + But nothing happened, M. Hamel saw me and said very kindly: + </p> + <p> + “Go to your place quickly, little Franz. We were beginning without + you.” + </p> + <p> + I jumped over the bench and sat down at my desk. Not till then, when I had + got a little over my fright, did I see that our teacher had on his + beautiful green coat, his frilled shirt, and the little black silk cap, + all embroidered, that he never wore except on inspection and prize days. + Besides, the whole school seemed so strange and solemn. But the thing that + surprised me most was to see, on the back benches that were always empty, + the village people sitting quietly like ourselves; old Hauser, with his + three-cornered hat, the former mayor, the former postmaster, and several + others besides. Everybody looked sad; and Hauser had brought an old + primer, thumbed at the edges, and he held it open on his knees with his + great spectacles lying across the pages. + </p> + <p> + While I was wondering about it all, M. Hamel mounted his chair, and, in + the same grave and gentle tone which he had used to me, said: + </p> + <p> + “My children, this is the last lesson I shall give you. The order + has come from Berlin to teach only German in the schools of Alsace and + Lorraine. The new master comes to-morrow. This is your last French lesson. + I want you to be very attentive.” + </p> + <p> + What a thunder-clap these words were to me! + </p> + <p> + Oh, the wretches; that was what they had put up at the town-hall! + </p> + <p> + My last French lesson! Why, I hardly knew how to write! I should never + learn any more! I must stop there, then! Oh, how sorry I was for not + learning my lessons, for seeking birds’ eggs, or going sliding on + the Saar! My books, that had seemed such a nuisance a while ago, so heavy + to carry, my grammar, and my history of the saints, were old friends now + that I couldn’t give up. And M. Hamel, too; the idea that he was + going away, that I should never see him again, made me forget all about + his ruler and how cranky he was. + </p> + <p> + Poor man! It was in honor of this last lesson that he had put on his fine + Sunday-clothes, and now I understood why the old men of the village were + sitting there in the back of the room. It was because they were sorry, + too, that they had not gone to school more. It was their way of thanking + our master for his forty years of faithful service and of showing their + respect for the country that was theirs no more. + </p> + <p> + While I was thinking of all this, I heard my name called. It was my turn + to recite. What would I not have given to be able to say that dreadful + rule for the participle all through, very loud and clear, and without one + mistake? But I got mixed up on the first words and stood there, holding on + to my desk, my heart beating, and not daring to look up. I heard M. Hamel + say to me: + </p> + <p> + “I won’t scold you, little Franz; you must feel bad enough. + See how it is! Every day we have said to ourselves: ‘Bah! I’ve + plenty of time. I’ll learn it to-morrow.’ And now you see + where we’ve come out. Ah, that’s the great trouble with + Alsace; she puts off learning till to-morrow. Now those fellows out there + will have the right to say to you: ‘How is it; you pretend to be + Frenchmen, and yet you can neither speak nor write your own language?’ + But you are not the worst, poor little Franz. We’ve all a great deal + to reproach ourselves with. + </p> + <p> + “Your parents were not anxious enough to have you learn. They + preferred to put you to work on a farm or at the mills, so as to have a + little more money. And I? I’ve been to blame also. Have I not often + sent you to water my flowers instead of learning your lessons? And when I + wanted to go fishing, did I not just give you a holiday?” + </p> + <p> + Then, from one thing to another, M. Hamel went on to talk of the French + language, saying that it was the most beautiful language in the world—the + clearest, the most logical; that we must guard it among us and never + forget it, because when a people are enslaved, as long as they hold fast + to their language it is as if they had the key to their prison. Then he + opened a grammar and read us our lesson. I was amazed to see how well I + understood it. All he said seemed so easy, so easy! I think, too, that I + had never listened so carefully, and that he had never explained + everything with so much patience. It seemed almost as if the poor man + wanted to give us all he knew before going away, and to put it all into + our heads at one stroke. + </p> + <p> + After the grammar, we had a lesson in writing. That day M. Hamel had new + copies for us, written in a beautiful round hand: France, Alsace, France, + Alsace. They looked like little flags floating everywhere in the + school-room, hung from the rod at the top of our desks. You ought to have + seen how every one set to work, and how quiet it was! The only sound was + the scratching of the pens over the paper. Once some beetles flew in; but + nobody paid any attention to them, not even the littlest ones, who worked + right on tracing their fish-hooks, as if that was French, too. On the roof + the pigeons cooed very low, and I thought to myself: + </p> + <p> + “Will they make them sing in German, even the pigeons?” + </p> + <p> + Whenever I looked up from my writing I saw M. Hamel sitting motionless in + his chair and gazing first at one thing, then at another, as if he wanted + to fix in his mind just how everything looked in that little school-room. + Fancy! For forty years he had been there in the same place, with his + garden outside the window and his class in front of him, just like that. + Only the desks and benches had been worn smooth; the walnut-trees in the + garden were taller, and the hop-vine, that he had planted himself twined + about the windows to the roof. How it must have broken his heart to leave + it all, poor man; to hear his sister moving about in the room above, + packing their trunks! For they must leave the country next day. + </p> + <p> + But he had the courage to hear every lesson to the very last. After the + writing, we had a lesson in history, and then the babies chanted their ba, + be, bi, bo, bu. Down there at the back of the room old Hauser had put on + his spectacles and, holding his primer in both hands, spelled the letters + with them. You could see that he, too, was crying; his voice trembled with + emotion, and it was so funny to hear him that we all wanted to laugh and + cry. Ah, how well I remember it, that last lesson! + </p> + <p> + All at once the church-clock struck twelve. Then the Angelus. At the same + moment the trumpets of the Prussians, returning from drill, sounded under + our windows. M. Hamel stood up, very pale, in his chair. I never saw him + look so tall. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” said he, “I—I—” But + something choked him. He could not go on. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to the blackboard, took a piece of chalk, and, bearing on + with all his might, he wrote as large as he could: + </p> + <p> + “Vive La France!” + </p> + <p> + Then he stopped and leaned his head against the wall, and, without a word, + he made a gesture to us with his hand; “School is dismissed—you + may go.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CROISILLES By Alfred De Musset + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + At the beginning of the reign of Louis XV., a young man named Croisilles, + son of a goldsmith, was returning from Paris to Havre, his native town. He + had been intrusted by his father with the transaction of some business, + and his trip to the great city having turned out satisfactorily, the joy + of bringing good news caused him to walk the sixty leagues more gaily and + briskly than was his wont; for, though he had a rather large sum of money + in his pocket, he travelled on foot for pleasure. He was a good-tempered + fellow, and not without wit, but so very thoughtless and flighty that + people looked upon him as being rather weak-minded. His doublet buttoned + awry, his periwig flying to the wind, his hat under his arm, he followed + the banks of the Seine, at times finding enjoyment in his own thoughts and + again indulging in snatches of song; up at daybreak, supping at wayside + inns, and always charmed with this stroll of his through one of the most + beautiful regions of France. Plundering the apple-trees of Normandy on his + way, he puzzled his brain to find rhymes (for all these rattlepates are + more or less poets), and tried hard to turn out a madrigal for a certain + fair damsel of his native place. She was no less than a daughter of a + fermier-général, Mademoiselle Godeau, the pearl of Havre, a rich heiress, + and much courted. Croisilles was not received at M. Godeau’s + otherwise than in a casual sort of way, that is to say, he had sometimes + himself taken there articles of jewelry purchased at his father’s. + M. Godeau, whose somewhat vulgar surname ill-fitted his immense fortune, + avenged himself by his arrogance for the stigma of his birth, and showed + himself on all occasions enormously and pitilessly rich. He certainly was + not the man to allow the son of a goldsmith to enter his drawing-room; + but, as Mademoiselle Godeau had the most beautiful eyes in the world, and + Croisilles was not ill-favored, and as nothing can prevent a fine fellow + from falling in love with a pretty girl, Croisilles adored Mademoiselle + Godeau, who did not seem vexed thereat. Thus was he thinking of her as he + turned his steps toward Havre; and, as he had never reflected seriously + upon anything, instead of thinking of the invincible obstacles which + separated him from his lady-love, he busied himself only with finding a + rhyme for the Christian name she bore. Mademoiselle Godeau was called + Julie, and the rhyme was found easily enough. So Croisilles, having + reached Honfleur, embarked with a satisfied heart, his money and his + madrigal in his pocket, and as soon as he jumped ashore ran to the + paternal house. + </p> + <p> + He found the shop closed, and knocked again and again, not without + astonishment and apprehension, for it was not a holiday; but nobody came. + He called his father, but in vain. He went to a neighbor’s to ask + what had happened; instead of replying, the neighbor turned away, as + though not wishing to recognize him. Croisilles repeated his questions; he + learned that his father, his affairs having long been in an embarrassed + condition, had just become bankrupt, and had fled to America, abandoning + to his creditors all that he possessed. + </p> + <p> + Not realizing as yet the extent of his misfortune, Croisilles felt + overwhelmed by the thought that he might never again see his father. It + seemed to him incredible that he should be thus suddenly abandoned; he + tried to force an entrance into the store; but was given to understand + that the official seals had been affixed; so he sat down on a stone, and + giving way to his grief, began to weep piteously, deaf to the consolations + of those around him, never ceasing to call his father’s name, though + he knew him to be already far away. At last he rose, ashamed at seeing a + crowd about him, and, in the most profound despair, turned his steps + towards the harbor. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the pier, he walked straight before him like a man in a + trance, who knows neither where he is going nor what is to become of him. + He saw himself irretrievably lost, possessing no longer a shelter, no + means of rescue and, of course, no longer any friends. Alone, wandering on + the sea-shore, he felt tempted to drown himself, then and there. Just at + the moment when, yielding to this thought, he was advancing to the edge of + a high cliff, an old servant named Jean, who had served his family for a + number of years, arrived on the scene. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my poor Jean!” he exclaimed, “you know all that has + happened since I went away. Is it possible that my father could leave us + without warning, without farewell?” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone,” answered Jean, “but indeed not without + saying good-bye to you.” + </p> + <p> + At the same time he drew from his pocket a letter, which he gave to his + young master. Croisilles recognized the handwriting of his father, and, + before opening the letter, kissed it rapturously; but it contained only a + few words. Instead of feeling his trouble softened, it seemed to the young + man still harder to bear. Honorable until then, and known as such, the old + gentleman, ruined by an unforeseen disaster (the bankruptcy of a partner), + had left for his son nothing but a few commonplace words of consolation, + and no hope, except, perhaps, that vague hope without aim or reason which + constitutes, it is said, the last possession one loses. + </p> + <p> + “Jean, my friend, you carried me in your arms,” said + Croisilles, when he had read the letter, “and you certainly are + to-day the only being who loves me at all; it is a very sweet thing to me, + but a very sad one for you; for, as sure as my father embarked there, I + will throw myself into the same sea which is bearing him away; not before + you nor at once, but some day I will do it, for I am lost.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do?” replied Jean, not seeming to have + understood, but holding fast to the skirt of Croisilles’ coat; + “What can you do, my dear master? Your father was deceived; he was + expecting money which did not come, and it was no small amount either. + Could he stay here? I have seen him, sir, as he made his fortune, during + the thirty years that I served him. I have seen him working, attending to + his business, the crown-pieces coming in one by one. He was an honorable + man, and skilful; they took a cruel advantage of him. Within the last few + days, I was still there, and as fast as the crowns came in, I saw them go + out of the shop again. Your father paid all he could, for a whole day, + and, when his desk was empty, he could not help telling me, pointing to a + drawer where but six francs remained: ‘There were a hundred thousand + francs there this morning!’ That does not look like a rascally + failure, sir? There is nothing in it that can dishonor you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no more doubt of my father’s integrity,” + answered Croisilles, “than I have of his misfortune. Neither do I + doubt his affection. But I wish I could have kissed him, for what is to + become of me? I am not accustomed to poverty, I have not the necessary + cleverness to build up my fortune. And, if I had it, my father is gone. It + took him thirty years, how long would it take me to repair this disaster? + Much longer. And will he be living then? Certainly not; he will die over + there, and I cannot even go and find him; I can join him only by dying.” + </p> + <p> + Utterly distressed as Croisilles was, he possessed much religious feeling. + Although his despondency made him wish for death, he hesitated to take his + life. At the first words of this interview, he had taken hold of old Jean’s + arm, and thus both returned to the town. When they had entered the streets + and the sea was no longer so near: + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, sir,” said Jean, “that a good man has a + right to live and that a misfortune proves nothing. Since your father has + not killed himself, thank God, how can you think of dying? Since there is + no dishonor in his case, and all the town knows it is so, what would they + think of you? That you felt unable to endure poverty. It would be neither + brave nor Christian; for, at the very worst, what is there to frighten + you? There are plenty of people born poor, and who have never had either + mother or father to help them on. I know that we are not all alike, but, + after all, nothing is impossible to God. What would you do in such a case? + Your father was not born rich, far from it,—meaning no offence—and + that is perhaps what consoles him now. If you had been here, this last + month, it would have given you courage. Yes, sir, a man may be ruined, + nobody is secure from bankruptcy; but your father, I make bold to say, has + borne himself through it all like a man, though he did leave us so + hastily. But what could he do? It is not every day that a vessel starts + for America. I accompanied him to the wharf, and if you had seen how sad + he was! How he charged me to take care of you; to send him news from you!—Sir, + it is a right poor idea you have, that throwing the helve after the + hatchet. Every one has his time of trial in this world, and I was a + soldier before I was a servant. I suffered severely at the time, but I was + young; I was of your age, sir, and it seemed to me that Providence could + not have spoken His last word to a young man of twenty-five. Why do you + wish to prevent the kind God from repairing the evil that has befallen + you? Give Him time, and all will come right. If I might advise you, I + would say, just wait two or three years, and I will answer for it, you + will come out all right. It is always easy to go out of this world. Why + will you seize an unlucky moment?” + </p> + <p> + While Jean was thus exerting himself to persuade his master, the latter + walked in silence, and, as those who suffer often do, was looking this way + and that as though seeking for something which might bind him to life. As + chance would have it, at this juncture, Mademoiselle Godeau, the daughter + of the fermier-général, happened to pass with her governess. The mansion + in which she lived was not far distant; Croisilles saw her enter it. This + meeting produced on him more effect than all the reasonings in the world. + I have said that he was rather erratic, and nearly always yielded to the + first impulse. Without hesitating an instant, and without explanation, he + suddenly left the arm of his old servant, and crossing the street, knocked + at Monsieur Godeau’s door. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + When we try to picture to ourselves, nowadays, what was called a “financier” + in times gone by, we invariably imagine enormous corpulence, short legs, a + gigantic wig, and a broad face with a triple chin,—and it is not + without reason that we have become accustomed to form such a picture of + such a personage. Everyone knows to what great abuses the royal + tax-farming led, and it seems as though there were a law of nature which + renders fatter than the rest of mankind those who fatten, not only upon + their own laziness, but also upon the work of others. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Godeau, among financiers, was one of the most classical to be + found,—that is to say, one of the fattest. At the present time he + had the gout, which was nearly as fashionable in his day as the nervous + headache is in ours. Stretched upon a lounge, his eyes half-closed, he was + coddling himself in the coziest corner of a dainty boudoir. The + panel-mirrors which surrounded him, majestically duplicated on every side + his enormous person; bags filled with gold covered the table; around him, + the furniture, the wainscot, the doors, the locks, the mantel-piece, the + ceiling were gilded; so was his coat. I do not know but that his brain was + gilded too. He was calculating the issue of a little business affair which + could not fail to bring him a few thousand louis; and was even deigning to + smile over it to himself when Croisilles was announced. The young man + entered with an humble, but resolute air, and with every outward + manifestation of that inward tumult with which we find no difficulty in + crediting a man who is longing to drown himself. Monsieur Godeau was a + little surprised at this unexpected visit; then he thought his daughter + had been buying some trifle, and was confirmed in that thought by seeing + her appear almost at the same time with the young man. He made a sign to + Croisilles not to sit down but to speak. The young lady seated herself on + a sofa, and Croisilles, remaining standing, expressed himself in these + terms: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my father has failed. The bankruptcy of a partner has forced + him to suspend his payments and unable to witness his own shame he has + fled to America, after having paid his last sou to his creditors. I was + absent when all this happened; I have just come back and have known of + these events only two hours. I am absolutely without resources, and + determined to die. It is very probable that, on leaving your house, I + shall throw myself into the water. In all probability, I would already + have done so, if I had not chanced to meet, at the very moment, this young + lady, your daughter. I love her, from the very depths of my heart; for two + years I have been in love with her, and my silence, until now, proves + better than anything else the respect I feel for her; but to-day, in + declaring my passion to you, I fulfill an imperative duty, and I would + think I was offending God, if, before giving myself over to death, I did + not come to ask you Mademoiselle Julie in marriage. I have not the + slightest hope that you will grant this request; but I have to make it, + nevertheless, for I am a good Christian, sir, and when a good Christian + sees himself come to such a point of misery that he can no longer suffer + life, he must at least, to extenuate his crime, exhaust all the chances + which remain to him before taking the final and fatal step.” + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of this speech, Monsieur Godeau had supposed that the + young man came to borrow money, and so he prudently threw his handkerchief + over the bags that were lying around him, preparing in advance a refusal, + and a polite one, for he always felt some good-will toward the father of + Croisilles. But when he had heard the young man to the end, and understood + the purport of his visit, he never doubted one moment that the poor fellow + had gone completely mad. He was at first tempted to ring the bell and have + him put out; but, noticing his firm demeanor, his determined look, the + fermier-général took pity on so inoffensive a case of insanity. He merely + told his daughter to retire, so that she might be no longer exposed to + hearing such improprieties. + </p> + <p> + While Croisilles was speaking, Mademoiselle Godeau had blushed as a peach + in the month of August. At her father’s bidding, she retired, the + young man making her a profound bow, which she did not seem to notice. + Left alone with Croisilles, Monsieur Godeau coughed, rose, then dropped + again upon the cushions, and, trying to assume a paternal air, delivered + himself to the following effect: + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” said he, “I am willing to believe that you are + not poking fun at me, but you have really lost your head. I not only + excuse this proceeding, but I consent not to punish you for it. I am sorry + that your poor devil of a father has become bankrupt and has skipped. It + is indeed very sad, and I quite understand that such a misfortune should + affect your brain. Besides, I wish to do something for you; so take this + stool and sit down there.” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless, sir,” answered Croisilles. “If you + refuse me, as I see you do, I have nothing left but to take my leave. I + wish you every good fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To write to my father and say good-bye to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! the devil! Any one would swear you were speaking the truth. I’ll + be damned if I don’t think you are going to drown yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; at least I think so, if my courage does not forsake me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a bright idea! Fie on you! How can you be such a fool? + Sit down, sir, I tell you, and listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Godeau had just made a very wise reflection, which was that it is + never agreeable to have it said that a man, whoever he may be, threw + himself into the water on leaving your house. He therefore coughed once + more, took his snuff-box, cast a careless glance upon his shirt-frill, and + continued: + </p> + <p> + “It is evident that you are nothing but a simpleton, a fool, a + regular baby. You do not know what you are saying. You are ruined, that’s + what has happened to you. But, my dear friend, all that is not enough; one + must reflect upon the things of this world. If you came to ask me—well, + good advice, for instance,—I might give it to you; but what is it + you are after? You are in love with my daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, and I repeat to you, that I am far from supposing that + you can give her to me in marriage; but as there is nothing in the world + but that, which could prevent me from dying, if you believe in God, as I + do not doubt you do, you will understand the reason that brings me here.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether I believe in God or not, is no business of yours. I do not + intend to be questioned. Answer me first: where have you seen my daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “In my father’s shop, and in this house, when I brought + jewelry for Mademoiselle Julie.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you her name was Julie? What are we coming to, great + heavens! But be her name Julie or Javotte, do you know what is wanted in + any one who aspires to the hand of the daughter of a fermier-général?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am completely ignorant of it, unless it is to be as rich as + she.” + </p> + <p> + “Something more is necessary, my boy; you must have a name.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! my name is Croisilles.” + </p> + <p> + “Your name is Croisilles, poor wretch! Do you call that a name?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my soul and conscience, sir, it seems to me to be as good a + name as Godeau.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very impertinent, sir, and you shall rue it.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, do not be angry; I had not the least idea of offending + you. If you see in what I said anything to wound you, and wish to punish + me for it, there is no need to get angry. Have I not told you that on + leaving here I am going straight to drown myself?” + </p> + <p> + Although M. Godeau had promised himself to send Croisilles away as gently + as possible, in order to avoid all scandal, his prudence could not resist + the vexation of his wounded pride. The interview to which he had to resign + himself was monstrous enough in itself; it may be imagined, then, what he + felt at hearing himself spoken to in such terms. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, almost beside himself, and determined to + close the matter at any cost. “You are not such a fool that you + cannot understand a word of common sense. Are you rich? No. Are you noble? + Still less so. What is this frenzy that brings you here? You come to worry + me; you think you are doing something clever; you know perfectly well that + it is useless; you wish to make me responsible for your death. Have you + any right to complain of me? Do I owe a son to your father? Is it my fault + that you have come to this? Mon Dieu! When a man is going to drown + himself, he keeps quiet about it—” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I am going to do now. I am your very humble servant.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment! It shall not be said that you had recourse to me in + vain. There, my boy, here are three louis d’or: go and have dinner + in the kitchen, and let me hear no more about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged; I am not hungry, and I have no use for your money.” + </p> + <p> + So Croisilles left the room, and the financier, having set his conscience + at rest by the offer he had just made, settled himself more comfortably in + his chair, and resumed his meditations. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Godeau, during this time, was not so far away as one might + suppose; she had, it is true, withdrawn in obedience to her father; but, + instead of going to her room, she had remained listening behind the door. + If the extravagance of Croisilles seemed incredible to her, still she + found nothing to offend her in it; for love, since the world has existed, + has never passed as an insult. On the other hand, as it was not possible + to doubt the despair of the young man, Mademoiselle Godeau found herself a + victim, at one and the same time, to the two sentiments most dangerous to + women—compassion and curiosity. When she saw the interview at an + end, and Croisilles ready to come out, she rapidly crossed the + drawing-room where she stood, not wishing to be surprised eavesdropping, + and hurried towards her apartment; but she almost immediately retraced her + steps. The idea that perhaps Croisilles was really going to put an end to + his life troubled her in spite of herself. Scarcely aware of what she was + doing, she walked to meet him; the drawing-room was large, and the two + young people came slowly towards each other. Croisilles was as pale as + death, and Mademoiselle Godeau vainly sought words to express her + feelings. In passing beside him, she let fall on the floor a bunch of + violets which she held in her hand. He at once bent down and picked up the + bouquet in order to give it back to her, but instead of taking it, she + passed on without uttering a word, and entered her father’s room. + Croisilles, alone again, put the flowers in his breast, and left the house + with a troubled heart, not knowing what to think of his adventure. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + Scarcely had he taken a few steps in the street, when he saw his faithful + friend Jean running towards him with a joyful face. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” he asked; “have you news to tell + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Jean; “I have to tell you that the seals + have been officially broken and that you can enter your home. All your + father’s debts being paid, you remain the owner of the house. It is + true that all the money and all the jewels have been taken away; but at + least the house belongs to you, and you have not lost everything. I have + been running about for an hour, not knowing what had become of you, and I + hope, my dear master, that you will now be wise enough to take a + reasonable course.” + </p> + <p> + “What course do you wish me to take?” + </p> + <p> + “Sell this house, sir, it is all your fortune. It will bring you + about thirty thousand francs. With that at any rate you will not die of + hunger; and what is to prevent you from buying a little stock in trade, + and starting business for yourself? You would surely prosper.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see about this,” answered Croisilles, as he hurried + to the street where his home was. He was eager to see the paternal roof + again. But when he arrived there so sad a spectacle met his gaze, that he + had scarcely the courage to enter. The shop was in utter disorder, the + rooms deserted, his father’s alcove empty. Everything presented to + his eyes the wretchedness of utter ruin. Not a chair remained; all the + drawers had been ransacked, the till broken open, the chest taken away; + nothing had escaped the greedy search of creditors and lawyers; who, after + having pillaged the house, had gone, leaving the doors open, as though to + testify to all passers-by how neatly their work was done. + </p> + <p> + “This, then,” exclaimed Croisilles, “is all that remains + after thirty years of work and a respectable life,—and all through + the failure to have ready, on a given day, money enough to honor a + signature imprudently given!” + </p> + <p> + While the young man walked up and down given over to the saddest thoughts, + Jean seemed very much embarrassed. He supposed that his master was without + ready money, and that he might perhaps not even have dined. He was + therefore trying to think of some way to question him on the subject, and + to offer him, in case of need, some part of his savings. After having + tortured his mind for a quarter of an hour to try and hit upon some way of + leading up to the subject, he could find nothing better than to come up to + Croisilles, and ask him, in a kindly voice: + </p> + <p> + “Sir, do you still like roast partridges?” + </p> + <p> + The poor man uttered this question in a tone at once so comical and so + touching, that Croisilles, in spite of his sadness, could not refrain from + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “And why do you ask me that?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “My wife,” replied Jean, “is cooking me some for dinner, + sir, and if by chance you still liked them—” + </p> + <p> + Croisilles had completely forgotten till now the money which he was + bringing back to his father. Jean’s proposal reminded him that his + pockets were full of gold. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you with all my heart,” said he to the old man, + “and I accept your dinner with pleasure; but, if you are anxious + about my fortune, be reassured. I have more money than I need to have a + good supper this evening, which you, in your turn, will share with me.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, he laid upon the mantel four well-filled purses, which he + emptied, each containing fifty louis. + </p> + <p> + “Although this sum does not belong to me,” he added, “I + can use it for a day or two. To whom must I go to have it forwarded to my + father?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Jean, eagerly, “your father especially + charged me to tell you that this money belongs to you, and, if I did not + speak of it before, it was because I did not know how your affairs in + Paris had turned out. Where he has gone your father will want for nothing; + he will lodge with one of your correspondents, who will receive him most + gladly; he has moreover taken with him enough for his immediate needs, for + he was quite sure of still leaving behind more than was necessary to pay + all his just debts. All that he has left, sir, is yours; he says so + himself in his letter, and I am especially charged to repeat it to you. + That gold is, therefore, legitimately your property, as this house in + which we are now. I can repeat to you the very words your father said to + me on embarking: ‘May my son forgive me for leaving him; may he remember + that I am still in the world only to love me, and let him use what remains + after my debts are paid as though it were his inheritance.’ Those, + sir, are his own expressions; so put this back in your pocket, and, since + you accept my dinner, pray let us go home.” + </p> + <p> + The honest joy which shone in Jean’s eyes, left no doubt in the mind + of Croisilles. The words of his father had moved him to such a point that + he could not restrain his tears; on the other hand, at such a moment, four + thousand francs were no bagatelle. As to the house, it was not an + available resource, for one could realize on it only by selling it, and + that was both difficult and slow. All this, however, could not but make a + considerable change in the situation the young man found himself in; so he + felt suddenly moved—shaken in his dismal resolution, and, so to + speak, both sad and, at the same time, relieved of much of his distress. + After having closed the shutters of the shop, he left the house with Jean, + and as he once more crossed the town, could not help thinking how small a + thing our affections are, since they sometimes serve to make us find an + unforeseen joy in the faintest ray of hope. It was with this thought that + he sat down to dinner beside his old servant, who did not fail, during the + repast, to make every effort to cheer him. + </p> + <p> + Heedless people have a happy fault. They are easily cast down, but they + have not even the trouble to console themselves, so changeable is their + mind. It would be a mistake to think them, on that account, insensible or + selfish; on the contrary they perhaps feel more keenly than others and are + but too prone to blow their brains out in a moment of despair; but, this + moment once passed, if they are still alive, they must dine, they must + eat, they must drink, as usual; only to melt into tears again at bed-time. + Joy and pain do not glide over them but pierce them through like arrows. + Kind, hot-headed natures which know how to suffer, but not how to lie, + through which one can clearly read,—not fragile and empty like + glass, but solid and transparent like rock crystal. + </p> + <p> + After having clinked glasses with Jean, Croisilles, instead of drowning + himself, went to the play. Standing at the back of the pit, he drew from + his bosom Mademoiselle Godeau’s bouquet, and, as he breathed the + perfume in deep meditation, he began to think in a calmer spirit about his + adventure of the morning. As soon as he had pondered over it for awhile, + he saw clearly the truth; that is to say, that the young lady, in leaving + the bouquet in his hands, and in refusing to take it back, had wished to + give him a mark of interest; for otherwise this refusal and this silence + could only have been marks of contempt, and such a supposition was not + possible. Croisilles, therefore, judged that Mademoiselle Godeau’s + heart was of a softer grain than her father’s and he remembered + distinctly that the young lady’s face, when she crossed the + drawing-room, had expressed an emotion the more true that it seemed + involuntary. But was this emotion one of love, or only of sympathy? Or was + it perhaps something of still less importance,—mere commonplace + pity? Had Mademoiselle Godeau feared to see him die—him, Croisilles—or + merely to be the cause of the death of a man, no matter what man? Although + withered and almost leafless, the bouquet still retained so exquisite an + odor and so brave a look, that in breathing it and looking at it, + Croisilles could not help hoping. It was a thin garland of roses round a + bunch of violets. What mysterious depths of sentiment an Oriental might + have read in these flowers, by interpreting their language! But after all, + he need not be an Oriental in this case. The flowers which fall from the + breast of a pretty woman, in Europe, as in the East, are never mute; were + they but to tell what they have seen while reposing in that lovely bosom, + it would be enough for a lover, and this, in fact, they do. Perfumes have + more than one resemblance to love, and there are even people who think + love to be but a sort of perfume; it is true the flowers which exhale it + are the most beautiful in creation. + </p> + <p> + While Croisilles mused thus, paying very little attention to the tragedy + that was being acted at the time, Mademoiselle Godeau herself appeared in + a box opposite. + </p> + <p> + The idea did not occur to the young man that, if she should notice him, + she might think it very strange to find the would-be suicide there after + what had transpired in the morning. He, on the contrary, bent all his + efforts towards getting nearer to her; but he could not succeed. A + fifth-rate actress from Paris had come to play Mérope, and the crowd was + so dense that one could not move. For lack of anything better, Croisilles + had to content himself with fixing his gaze upon his lady-love, not + lifting his eyes from her for a moment. He noticed that she seemed + pre-occupied and moody, and that she spoke to every one with a sort of + repugnance. Her box was surrounded, as may be imagined, by all the fops of + the neighborhood, each of whom passed several times before her in the + gallery, totally unable to enter the box, of which her father filled more + than three-fourths. Croisilles noticed further that she was not using her + opera-glasses, nor was she listening to the play. Her elbows resting on + the balustrade, her chin in her hand, with her far-away look, she seemed, + in all her sumptuous apparel, like some statue of Venus disguised en + marquise. The display of her dress and her hair, her rouge, beneath which + one could guess her paleness, all the splendor of her toilet, did but the + more distinctly bring out the immobility of her countenance. Never had + Croisilles seen her so beautiful. Having found means, between the acts, to + escape from the crush, he hurried off to look at her from the passage + leading to her box, and, strange to say, scarcely had he reached it, when + Mademoiselle Godeau, who had not stirred for the last hour, turned round. + She started slightly as she noticed him and only cast a glance at him; + then she resumed her former attitude. Whether that glance expressed + surprise, anxiety, pleasure or love; whether it meant “What, not + dead!” or “God be praised! There you are, living!”—I + do not pretend to explain. Be that as it may; at that glance, Croisilles + inwardly swore to himself to die or gain her love. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + Of all the obstacles which hinder the smooth course of love, the greatest + is, without doubt, what is called false shame, which is indeed a very + potent obstacle. + </p> + <p> + Croisilles was not troubled with this unhappy failing, which both pride + and timidity combine to produce; he was not one of those who, for whole + months, hover round the woman they love, like a cat round a caged bird. As + soon as he had given up the idea of drowning himself, he thought only of + letting his dear Julie know that he lived solely for her. But how could he + tell her so? Should he present himself a second time at the mansion of the + fermier-général, it was but too certain that M. Godeau would have him + ejected. + </p> + <p> + Julie, when she happened to take a walk, never went without her maid; it + was therefore useless to undertake to follow her. To pass the nights under + the windows of one’s beloved is a folly dear to lovers, but, in the + present case, it would certainly prove vain. I said before that Croisilles + was very religious; it therefore never entered his mind to seek to meet + his lady-love at church. As the best way, though the most dangerous, is to + write to people when one cannot speak to them in person, he decided on the + very next day to write to the young lady. + </p> + <p> + His letter possessed, naturally, neither order nor reason. It read + somewhat as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,—Tell me exactly, I beg of you, what fortune one + must possess to be able to pretend to your hand. I am asking you a strange + question; but I love you so desperately, that it is impossible for me not + to ask it, and you are the only person in the world to whom I can address + it. It seemed to me, last evening, that you looked at me at the play. I + had wished to die; would to God I were indeed dead, if I am mistaken, and + if that look was not meant for me. Tell me if Fate can be so cruel as to + let a man deceive himself in a manner at once so sad and so sweet. I + believe that you commanded me to live. You are rich, beautiful. I know it. + Your father is arrogant and miserly, and you have a right to be proud; but + I love you, and the rest is a dream. Fix your charming eyes on me; think + of what love can do, when I who suffer so cruelly, who must stand in fear + of every thing, feel, nevertheless, an inexpressible joy in writing you + this mad letter, which will perhaps bring down your anger upon me. But + think also, mademoiselle that you are a little to blame for this, my + folly. Why did you drop that bouquet? Put yourself for an instant, if + possible, in my place; I dare think that you love me, and I dare ask you + to tell me so. Forgive me, I beseech you. I would give my life’s + blood to be sure of not offending you, and to see you listening to my love + with that angel smile which belongs only to you. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you may do, your image remains mine; you can remove it + only by tearing out my heart. As long as your look lives in my + remembrance, as long as the bouquet keeps a trace of its perfume, as long + as a word will tell of love, I will cherish hope.” + </p> + <p> + Having sealed his letter, Croisilles went out and walked up and down the + street opposite the Godeau mansion, waiting for a servant to come out. + Chance, which always serves mysterious loves, when it can do so without + compromising itself, willed it that Mademoiselle Julie’s maid should + have arranged to purchase a cap on that day. She was going to the milliner’s + when Croisilles accosted her, slipped a louis into her hand, and asked her + to take charge of his letter. + </p> + <p> + The bargain was soon struck; the servant took the money to pay for her cap + and promised to do the errand out of gratitude. Croisilles, full of joy, + went home and sat at his door awaiting an answer. + </p> + <p> + Before speaking of this answer, a word must be said about Mademoiselle + Godeau. She was not quite free from the vanity of her father, but her good + nature was ever uppermost. She was, in the full meaning of the term, a + spoilt child. She habitually spoke very little, and never was she seen + with a needle in her hand; she spent her days at her toilet, and her + evenings on the sofa, not seeming to hear the conversation going on around + her. As regards her dress, she was prodigiously coquettish, and her own + face was surely what she thought most of on earth. A wrinkle in her + collarette, an ink-spot on her finger, would have distressed her; and, + when her dress pleased her, nothing can describe the last look which she + cast at her mirror before leaving the room. She showed neither taste nor + aversion for the pleasures in which young ladies usually delight. She went + to balls willingly enough, and renounced going to them without a show of + temper, sometimes without motive. + </p> + <p> + The play wearied her, and she was in the constant habit of falling asleep + there. When her father, who worshipped her, proposed to make her some + present of her own choice, she took an hour to decide, not being able to + think of anything she cared for. When M. Godeau gave a reception or a + dinner, it often happened that Julie would not appear in the drawing-room, + and at such times she passed the evening alone in her own room, in full + dress, walking up and down, her fan in her hand. If a compliment was + addressed to her, she turned away her head, and if any one attempted to + pay court to her, she responded only by a look at once so dazzling and so + serious as to disconcert even the boldest. Never had a sally made her + laugh; never had an air in an opera, a flight of tragedy, moved her; + indeed, never had her heart given a sign of life; and, on seeing her pass + in all the splendor of her nonchalant loveliness one might have taken her + for a beautiful somnambulist, walking through the world as in a trance. + </p> + <p> + So much indifference and coquetry did not seem easy to understand. Some + said she loved nothing, others that she loved nothing but herself. A + single word, however, suffices to explain her character,—she was + waiting. From the age of fourteen she had heard it ceaselessly repeated + that nothing was so charming as she. She was convinced of this, and that + was why she paid so much attention to dress. In failing to do honor to her + own person, she would have thought herself guilty of sacrilege. She + walked, in her beauty, so to speak, like a child in its holiday dress; but + she was very far from thinking that her beauty was to remain useless. + </p> + <p> + Beneath her apparent unconcern she had a will, secret, inflexible, and the + more potent the better it was concealed. The coquetry of ordinary women, + which spends itself in ogling, in simpering, and in smiling, seemed to her + a childish, vain, almost contemptible way of fighting with shadows. She + felt herself in possession of a treasure, and she disdained to stake it + piece by piece; she needed an adversary worthy of herself; but, too + accustomed to see her wishes anticipated, she did not seek that adversary; + it may even be said that she felt astonished at his failing to present + himself. + </p> + <p> + For the four or five years that she had been out in society and had + conscientiously displayed her flowers, her furbelows, and her beautiful + shoulders, it seemed to her inconceivable that she had not yet inspired + some great passion. + </p> + <p> + Had she said what was really behind her thoughts, she certainly would have + replied to her many flatterers: “Well! if it is true that I am so + beautiful, why do you not blow your brains out for me?” An answer + which many other young girls might make, and which more than one who says + nothing hides away in a corner of her heart, not far perhaps from the tip + of her tongue. + </p> + <p> + What is there, indeed, in the world, more tantalizing for a woman than to + be young, rich, beautiful, to look at herself in her mirror and see + herself charmingly dressed, worthy in every way to please, fully disposed + to allow herself to be loved, and to have to say to herself: “I am + admired, I am praised, all the world thinks me charming, but nobody loves + me. My gown is by the best maker, my laces are superb, my coiffure is + irreproachable, my face the most beautiful on earth, my figure slender, my + foot prettily turned, and all this helps me to nothing but to go and yawn + in the corner of some drawing-room! If a young man speaks to me he treats + me as a child; if I am asked in marriage, it is for my dowry; if somebody + presses my hand in a dance, it is sure to be some provincial fop; as soon + as I appear anywhere, I excite a murmur of admiration; but nobody speaks + low, in my ear, a word that makes my heart beat. I hear impertinent men + praising me in loud tones, a couple of feet away, and never a look of + humbly sincere adoration meets mine. Still I have an ardent soul full of + life, and I am not, by any means, only a pretty doll to be shown about, to + be made to dance at a ball, to be dressed by a maid in the morning and + undressed at night—beginning the whole thing over again the next + day.” + </p> + <p> + That is what Mademoiselle Godeau had many times said to herself; and there + were hours when that thought inspired her with so gloomy a feeling that + she remained mute and almost motionless for a whole day. When Croisilles + wrote her, she was in just such a fit of ill-humor. She had just been + taking her chocolate and was deep in meditation, stretched upon a lounge, + when her maid entered and handed her the letter with a mysterious air. She + looked at the address, and not recognizing the handwriting, fell again to + musing. + </p> + <p> + The maid then saw herself forced to explain what it was, which she did + with a rather disconcerted air, not being at all sure how the young lady + would take the matter. Mademoiselle Godeau listened without moving, then + opened the letter, and cast only a glance at it; she at once asked for a + sheet of paper, and nonchalantly wrote these few words: + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I assure you I am not proud. If you had only a hundred + thousand crowns, I would willingly marry you.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the reply which the maid at once took to Croisilles, who gave her + another louis for her trouble. + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p> + A hundred thousand crowns are not found “in a donkey’s + hoof-print,” and if Croisilles had been suspicious he might have + thought in reading Mademoiselle Godeau’s letter that she was either + crazy or laughing at him. He thought neither, for he only saw in it that + his darling Julie loved him, and that he must have a hundred thousand + crowns, and he dreamed from that moment of nothing but trying to secure + them. + </p> + <p> + He possessed two hundred louis in cash, plus a house which, as I have + said, might be worth about thirty thousand francs. What was to be done? + How was he to go about transfiguring these thirty-four thousand francs, at + a jump, into three hundred thousand. The first idea which came into the + mind of the young man was to find some way of staking his whole fortune on + the toss-up of a coin, but for that he must sell the house. Croisilles + therefore began by putting a notice upon the door, stating that his house + was for sale; then, while dreaming what he would do with the money that he + would get for it, he awaited a purchaser. + </p> + <p> + A week went by, then another; not a single purchaser applied. More and + more distressed, Croisilles spent these days with Jean, and despair was + taking possession of him once more, when a Jewish broker rang at the door. + </p> + <p> + “This house is for sale, sir, is it not? Are you the owner of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And how much is it worth?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty thousand francs, I believe; at least I have heard my father + say so.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew visited all the rooms, went upstairs and down into the cellar, + knocking on the walls, counting the steps of the staircase, turning the + doors on their hinges and the keys in their locks, opening and closing the + windows; then, at last, after having thoroughly examined everything, + without saying a word and without making the slightest proposal, he bowed + to Croisilles and retired. + </p> + <p> + Croisilles, who for a whole hour had followed him with a palpitating + heart, as may be imagined, was not a little disappointed at this silent + retreat. He thought that perhaps the Jew had wished to give himself time + to reflect and that he would return presently. He waited a week for him, + not daring to go out for fear of missing his visit, and looking out of the + windows from morning till night. But it was in vain; the Jew did not + reappear. Jean, true to his unpleasant rôle of adviser, brought moral + pressure to bear to dissuade his master from selling his house in so hasty + a manner and for so extravagant a purpose. Dying of impatience, ennui, and + love, Croisilles one morning took his two hundred louis and went out, + determined to tempt fortune with this sum, since he could not have more. + </p> + <p> + The gaming-houses at that time were not public, and that refinement of + civilization which enables the first comer to ruin himself at all hours, + as soon as the wish enters his mind, had not yet been invented. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely was Croisilles in the street before he stopped, not knowing where + to go to stake his money. He looked at the houses of the neighborhood, and + eyed them, one after the other, striving to discover suspicious + appearances that might point out to him the object of his search. A + good-looking young man, splendidly dressed, happened to pass. Judging from + his mien, he was certainly a young man of gentle blood and ample leisure, + so Croisilles politely accosted him. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “I beg your pardon for the liberty I + take. I have two hundred louis in my pocket and I am dying either to lose + them or win more. Could you not point out to me some respectable place + where such things are done?” + </p> + <p> + At this rather strange speech the young man burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, sir!” answered he, “if you are seeking + any such wicked place you have but to follow me, for that is just where I + am going.” + </p> + <p> + Croisilles followed him, and a few steps farther they both entered a house + of very attractive appearance, where they were received hospitably by an + old gentleman of the highest breeding. + </p> + <p> + Several young men were already seated round a green cloth. Croisilles + modestly took a place there, and in less than an hour his two hundred + louis were gone. + </p> + <p> + He came out as sad as a lover can be who thinks himself beloved. He had + not enough to dine with, but that did not cause him any anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do now,” he asked himself, “to get money? To + whom shall I address myself in this town? Who will lend me even a hundred + louis on this house that I can not sell?” + </p> + <p> + While he was in this quandary, he met his Jewish broker. He did not + hesitate to address him, and, featherhead as he was, did not fail to tell + him the plight he was in. + </p> + <p> + The Jew did not much want to buy the house; he had come to see it only + through curiosity, or, to speak more exactly, for the satisfaction of his + own conscience, as a passing dog goes into a kitchen, the door of which + stands open, to see if there is anything to steal. But when he saw + Croisilles so despondent, so sad, so bereft of all resources, he could not + resist the temptation to put himself to some inconvenience, even, in order + to pay for the house. He therefore offered him about one-fourth of its + value. Croisilles fell upon his neck, called him his friend and saviour, + blindly signed a bargain that would have made one’s hair stand on + end, and, on the very next day, the possessor of four hundred new louis, + he once more turned his steps toward the gambling-house where he had been + so politely and speedily ruined the night before. + </p> + <p> + On his way, he passed by the wharf. A vessel was about leaving; the wind + was gentle, the ocean tranquil. On all sides, merchants, sailors, officers + in uniform were coming and going. Porters were carrying enormous bales of + merchandise. Passengers and their friends were exchanging farewells, small + boats were rowing about in all directions; on every face could be read + fear, impatience, or hope; and, amidst all the agitation which surrounded + it, the majestic vessel swayed gently to and fro under the wind that + swelled her proud sails. + </p> + <p> + “What a grand thing it is,” thought Croisilles, “to risk + all one possesses and go beyond the sea, in perilous search of fortune! + How it fills me with emotion to look at this vessel setting out on her + voyage, loaded with so much wealth, with the welfare of so many families! + What joy to see her come back again, bringing twice as much as was + intrusted to her, returning so much prouder and richer than she went away! + Why am I not one of those merchants? Why could I not stake my four hundred + louis in this way? This immense sea! What a green cloth, on which to + boldly tempt fortune! Why should I not myself buy a few bales of cloth or + silk? What is to prevent my doing so, since I have gold? Why should this + captain refuse to take charge of my merchandise? And who knows? Instead of + going and throwing away this—my little all—in a + gambling-house, I might double it, I might triple it, perhaps, by honest + industry. If Julie truly loves me, she will wait a few years, she will + remain true to me until I am able to marry her. Commerce sometimes yields + greater profits than one thinks; examples are wanting in this world of + wealth gained with astonishing rapidity in this way on the changing waves—why + should Providence not bless an endeavor made for a purpose so laudable, so + worthy of His assistance? Among these merchants who have accumulated so + much and who send their vessels to the ends of the world, more than one + has begun with a smaller sum than I have now. They have prospered with the + help of God; why should I not prosper in my turn? It seems to me as though + a good wind were filling these sails, and this vessel inspires confidence. + Come! the die is cast; I will speak to the captain, who seems to be a good + fellow; I will then write to Julie, and set out to become a clever and + successful trader.” + </p> + <p> + The greatest danger incurred by those who are habitually but half crazy, + is that of becoming, at times, altogether so. + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow, without further deliberation, put his whim into + execution. To find goods to buy, when one has money and knows nothing + about the goods, is the easiest thing in the world. + </p> + <p> + The captain, to oblige Croisilles, took him to one of his friends, a + manufacturer, who sold him as much cloth and silk as he could pay for. The + whole of it, loaded upon a cart, was promptly taken on board. Croisilles, + delighted and full of hope, had himself written in large letters his name + upon the bales. He watched them being put on board with inexpressible joy; + the hour of departure soon came, and the vessel weighed anchor. + </p> + <h3> + VI + </h3> + <p> + I need not say that in this transaction, Croisilles had kept no money in + hand. His house was sold; and there remained to him, for his sole fortune, + the clothes he had on his back;—no home, and not a son. With the + best will possible, Jean could not suppose that his master was reduced to + such an extremity; Croisilles was not too proud, but too thoughtless to + tell him of it. So he determined to sleep under the starry vault, and as + for his meals, he made the following calculation; he presumed that the + vessel which bore his fortune would be six months before coming back to + Havre; Croisilles, therefore, not without regret, sold a gold watch his + father had given him, and which he had fortunately kept; he got thirty-six + livres for it. That was sufficient to live on for about six months, at the + rate of four sous a day. He did not doubt that it would be enough, and, + reassured for the present, he wrote to Mademoiselle Godeau to inform her + of what he had done. He was very careful in his letter not to speak of his + distress; he announced to her, on the contrary, that he had undertaken a + magnificent commercial enterprise, of the speedy and fortunate issue of + which there could be no doubt; he explained to her that La Fleurette, a + merchant-vessel of one hundred and fifty tons, was carrying to the Baltic + his cloths and his silks, and implored her to remain faithful to him for a + year, reserving to himself the right of asking, later on, for a further + delay, while, for his part, he swore eternal love to her. + </p> + <p> + When Mademoiselle Godeau received this letter she was sitting before the + fire, and had in her hand, using it as a screen, one of those bulletins + which are printed in seaports, announcing the arrival and departure of + vessels, and which also report disasters at sea. It had never occurred to + her, as one can well imagine, to take an interest in this sort of thing; + she had in fact never glanced at any of these sheets. + </p> + <p> + The perusal of Croisilles’ letter prompted her to read the bulletin + she had been holding in her hand; the first word that caught her eye was + no other than the name of La Fleurette. + </p> + <p> + The vessel had been wrecked on the coast of France, on the very night + following its departure. The crew had barely escaped, but all the cargo + was lost. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Godeau, at this news, no longer remembered that Croisilles + had made to her an avowal of his poverty; she was as heartbroken as though + a million had been at stake. + </p> + <p> + In an instant, the horrors of the tempest, the fury of the winds, the + cries of the drowning, the ruin of the man who loved her, presented + themselves to her mind like a scene in a romance. The bulletin and the + letter fell from her hands. She rose in great agitation, and, with heaving + breast and eyes brimming with tears, paced up and down, determined to act, + and asking herself how she should act. + </p> + <p> + There is one thing that must be said in justice to love; it is that the + stronger, the clearer, the simpler the considerations opposed to it, in a + word, the less common sense there is in the matter, the wilder does the + passion become and the more does the lover love. It is one of the most + beautiful things under heaven, this irrationality of the heart. We should + not be worth much without it. After having walked about the room (without + forgetting either her dear fan or the passing glance at the mirror), Julie + allowed herself to sink once more upon her lounge. Whoever had seen her at + this moment would have looked upon a lovely sight; her eyes sparkled, her + cheeks were on fire; she sighed deeply, and murmured in a delicious + transport of joy and pain: + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow! He has ruined himself for me!” + </p> + <p> + Independently of the fortune which she could expect from her father, + Mademoiselle Godeau had in her own right the property her mother had left + her. She had never thought of it. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, for the first time in her life, she remembered that she + could dispose of five hundred thousand francs. This thought brought a + smile to her lips; a project, strange, bold, wholly feminine, almost as + mad as Croisilles himself, entered her head;—she weighed the idea in + her mind for some time, then decided to act upon it at once. + </p> + <p> + She began by inquiring whether Croisilles had any relatives or friends; + the maid was sent out in all directions to find out. + </p> + <p> + Having made minute inquiries in all quarters, she discovered, on the + fourth floor of an old rickety house, a half-crippled aunt, who never + stirred from her arm-chair, and had not been out for four or five years. + This poor woman, very old, seemed to have been left in the world expressly + as a specimen of hungry misery. Blind, gouty, almost deaf, she lived alone + in a garret; but a gayety, stronger than misfortune and illness, sustained + her at eighty years of age, and made her still love life. Her neighbors + never passed her door without going in to see her, and the antiquated + tunes she hummed enlivened all the girls of the neighborhood. She + possessed a little annuity which sufficed to maintain her; as long as day + lasted, she knitted. She did not know what had happened since the death of + Louis XIV. + </p> + <p> + It was to this worthy person that Julie had herself privately conducted. + She donned for the occasion all her finery; feathers, laces, ribbons, + diamonds, nothing was spared. She wanted to be fascinating; but the real + secret of her beauty, in this case, was the whim that was carrying her + away. She went up the steep, dark staircase which led to the good lady’s + chamber, and, after the most graceful bow, spoke somewhat as follows: + </p> + <p> + “You have, madame, a nephew, called Croisilles, who loves me and has + asked for my hand; I love him too and wish to marry him; but my father, + Monsieur Godeau, fermier-général of this town, refuses his consent, + because your nephew is not rich. I would not, for the world, give occasion + to scandal, nor cause trouble to anybody; I would therefore never think of + disposing of myself without the consent of my family. I come to ask you a + favor, which I beseech you to grant me. You must come yourself and propose + this marriage to my father. I have, thank God, a little fortune which is + quite at your disposal; you may take possession, whenever you see fit, of + five hundred thousand francs at my notary’s. You will say that this + sum belongs to your nephew, which in fact it does. It is not a present + that I am making him, it is a debt which I am paying, for I am the cause + of the ruin of Croisilles, and it is but just that I should repair it. My + father will not easily give in; you will be obliged to insist and you must + have a little courage; I, for my part, will not fail. As nobody on earth + excepting myself has any right to the sum of which I am speaking to you, + nobody will ever know in what way this amount will have passed into your + hands. You are not very rich yourself, I know, and you may fear that + people will be astonished to see you thus endowing your nephew; but + remember that my father does not know you, that you show yourself very + little in town, and that, consequently it will be easy for you to pretend + that you have just arrived from some journey. This step will doubtless be + some exertion to you; you will have to leave your arm-chair and take a + little trouble; but you will make two people happy, madame, and if you + have ever known love, I hope you will not refuse me.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady, during this discourse, had been in turn surprised, anxious, + touched, and delighted. The last words persuaded her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child,” she repeated several times, “I know + what it is,—I know what it is.” + </p> + <p> + As she said this she made an effort to rise; her feeble limbs could barely + support her; Julie quickly advanced and put out her hand to help her; by + an almost involuntary movement they found themselves, in an instant, in + each other’s arms. + </p> + <p> + A treaty was at once concluded; a warm kiss sealed it in advance, and the + necessary and confidential consultation followed without further trouble. + </p> + <p> + All the explanations having been made, the good lady drew from her + wardrobe a venerable gown of taffeta, which had been her wedding-dress. + This antique piece of property was not less than fifty years old; but not + a spot, not a grain of dust had disfigured it; Julie was in ecstasies over + it. A coach was sent for, the handsomest in the town. The good lady + prepared the speech she was going to make to Monsieur Godeau; Julie tried + to teach her how she was to touch the heart of her father, and did not + hesitate to confess that love of rank was his vulnerable point. + </p> + <p> + “If you could imagine,” said she, “a means of flattering + this weakness, you will have won our cause.” + </p> + <p> + The good lady pondered deeply, finished her toilet without Another word, + clasped the hands of her future niece, and entered the carriage. + </p> + <p> + She soon arrived at the Godeau mansion; there, she braced herself up so + gallantly for her entrance that she seemed ten years younger. She + majestically crossed the drawing-room where Julie’s bouquet had + fallen, and when the door of the boudoir opened, said in a firm voice to + the lackey who preceded her: + </p> + <p> + “Announce the dowager Baroness de Croisilles.” + </p> + <p> + These words settled the happiness of the two lovers. Monsieur Godeau was + bewildered by them. Although five hundred thousand francs seemed little to + him, he consented to everything, in order to make his daughter a baroness, + and such she became;—who would dare contest her title? For my part, + I think she had thoroughly earned it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE VASE OF CLAY By Jean Aicard + </h2> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + Jean had inherited from his father a little field close beside the sea. + Round this field the branches of the pine trees murmured a response to the + plashing of the waves. Beneath the pines the soil was red, and the crimson + shade of the earth mingling with the blue waves of the bay gave them a + pensive violet hue, most of all in the quiet evening hours dear to + reveries and dreams. + </p> + <p> + In this field grew roses and raspberries. The pretty girls of the + neighborhood came to Jean’s home to buy these fruits and flowers, so + like their own lips and cheeks. The roses, the lips, and the berries had + all the same youth, had all the same beauty. + </p> + <p> + Jean lived happily beside the sea, at the foot of the hills, beneath an + olive tree planted near his door, which in all seasons threw a lance-like + blue shadow upon his white wall. + </p> + <p> + Near the olive tree was a well, the water of which was so cold and pure + that the girls of the region, with their cheeks like roses and their lips + like raspberries, came thither night and morning with their jugs. Upon + their heads, covered with pads, they carried their jugs, round and slender + as themselves, supporting them with their beautiful bare arms, raised + aloft like living handles. + </p> + <p> + Jean observed all these things, and admired them, and blessed his life. + </p> + <p> + As he was only twenty years old, he fondly loved one of the charming girls + who drew water from his well, who ate his raspberries and breathed the + fragrance of his roses. + </p> + <p> + He told this younger girl that she was as pure and fresh as the water, as + delicious as the raspberries and as sweet as the roses. + </p> + <p> + Then the young girl smiled. + </p> + <p> + He told it her again, and she made a face at him. + </p> + <p> + He sang her the same song, and she married a sailor who carried her far + away beyond the sea. + </p> + <p> + Jean wept bitterly, but he still admired beautiful things, and still + blessed his life. Sometimes he thought that the frailty of what is + beautiful and the brevity of what is good adds value to the beauty and + goodness of all things. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + One day he learned by chance that the red earth of his field was an + excellent clay. He took a little of it in his hand, moistened it with + water from his well, and fashioned a simple vase, while he thought of + those beautiful girls who are like the ancient Greek jars, at once round + and slender. + </p> + <p> + The earth in his field was, indeed, excellent clay. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + He built himself a potter’s wheel. With his own hands, and with his + clay, he built a furnace against the wall of his house, and he set himself + to making little pots to hold raspberries. + </p> + <p> + He became skilful at this work, and all the gardeners round about came to + him to provide themselves with these light, porous pots, of a beautiful + red hue, round and slender, wherein the raspberries could be heaped + without crushing them, and where they slept under the shelter of a green + leaf. + </p> + <p> + The leaf, the pot, the raspberries, these enchanted everybody by their + form and color; and the buyers in the city market would have no berries + save those which were sold in Jean the potter’s round and slender + pots. + </p> + <p> + Now more than ever the beautiful girls visited Jean’s field. + </p> + <p> + Now they brought baskets of woven reeds in which they piled the empty + pots, red and fresh. But now Jean observed them without desire. His heart + was forevermore far away beyond the sea. + </p> + <p> + Still, as he deepened and broadened the ditch in his field, from which he + took the clay, he saw that his pots to hold the raspberries were variously + colored, tinted sometimes with rose, sometimes with blue or violet, + sometimes with black or green. + </p> + <p> + These shades of the clay reminded him of the loveliest things which had + gladdened his eyes: plants, flowers, ocean, sky. + </p> + <p> + Then he set himself to choose, in making his vases, shades of clay, which + he mingled delicately. And these colors, produced by centuries of + alternating lights and shadows, obeyed his will, changed in a moment + according to his desire. + </p> + <p> + Each day he modelled hundreds of these raspberry pots, moulding them upon + the wheel which turned like a sun beneath the pressure of his agile foot. + The mass of shapeless clay, turning on the center of the disk, under the + touch of his finger, suddenly raised itself like the petals of a lily, + lengthened, broadened, swelled or shrank, submissive to his will. + </p> + <p> + The creative potter loved the clay. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + As he still dreamed of the things which he had most admired, his thought, + his remembrance, his will, descended into his fingers, where—without + his knowing how—they communicated to the clay that mysterious + principle of life which the wisest man is unable to define. The humble + works of Jean the potter had marvellous graces. In such a curve, in such a + tint, he put some memory of youth, or of an opening blossom, or the very + color of the weather, and of joy or sorrow. + </p> + <p> + In his hours of repose he walked with his eyes fixed upon the ground, + studying the variations in the color of the soil on the cliffs, on the + plains, on the sides of the hills. + </p> + <p> + And the wish came to him to model a unique vase, a marvellous vase, in + which should live through all eternity something of all the fragile + beauties which his eyes had gazed upon; something even of all the brief + joys which his heart had known, and even a little of his divine sorrows of + hope, regret and love. + </p> + <p> + He was then in the full strength and vigor of manhood. + </p> + <p> + Yet, that he might the better meditate upon his desire he forsook the + well-paid work, which, it is true, had allowed him to lay aside a little + hoard. No longer, as of old, his wheel turned from morning until night. He + permitted other potters to manufacture raspberry pots by the thousand. The + merchants forgot the way to Jean’s field. + </p> + <p> + The young girls still came there for pleasure, because of the cold water, + the roses, and the raspberries; but the ill-cultivated raspberries + perished, the rose-vines ran wild, climbed to the tops of the high walls, + and offered their dusty blossoms to the travellers on the road. + </p> + <p> + The water in the well alone remained the same, cold and plenteous, and + that sufficed to draw about Jean eternal youth and eternal gaiety. + </p> + <p> + Only youth had grown mocking for Jean. For him gaiety had now become + scoffing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Master Jean! Does not your furnace burn any more? Your wheel, + Master Jean, does it scarcely ever turn? When shall we see your amazing + pot which will be as beautiful as everything which is beautiful, blooming + like the rose, beaded like the raspberry, and speaking—if we must + believe what you say about it—like our lips?” + </p> + <p> + Now Jean is ageing; Jean is old. He sits upon his stone seat beside the + well, under the lace-like shade of the olive tree, in front of his empty + field, all the soil of which is good clay but which no longer produces + either raspberries or roses. + </p> + <p> + Jean said formerly: “There are three things: roses, raspberries, + lips.” + </p> + <p> + All the three have forsaken him. + </p> + <p> + The lips of the young girls, and even those of the children, have become + scoffing. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Father Jean! Do you live like the grasshoppers? Nobody ever + sees you eat, Father Jean! Father Jean lives on cold water. The man who + grows old becomes a child again! + </p> + <p> + “What will you put into your beautiful vase, if you ever make it, + silly old fellow? It will not hold even a drop of water from your well. Go + and paint the hen-coops and make water-jugs!” + </p> + <p> + Jean silently shakes his head, and only replies to all these railleries by + a kindly smile. + </p> + <p> + He is good to animals, and he shares his dry bread with the poor. + </p> + <p> + It is true that he eats scarcely anything, but he does not suffer in + consequence. He is very thin, but his flesh is all the more sound and + wholesome. Under the arch of his eyebrows his old eyes, heedful of the + world, continue to sparkle with the clearness of the spring which reflects + the light. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + One bright morning, upon his wheel, which turns to the rhythmic motion of + his foot, Jean sets himself to model a vase, the vase which he has long + seen with his mind’s eye. + </p> + <p> + The horizontal wheel turns like a sun to the rhythmic beating of his foot. + The wheel turns. The clay vase rises, falls, swells, becomes crushed into + a shapeless mass, to be born again under Jean’s hand. At last, with + one single burst, it springs forth like an unlooked-for flower from an + invisible stem. + </p> + <p> + It blooms triumphantly, and the old man bears it in his trembling hands to + the carefully prepared furnace where fire must add to its beauty of form + the illusive, decisive beauty of color. + </p> + <p> + All through the night Jean has kept up and carefully regulated the + furnace-fire, that artisan of delicate gradations of color. + </p> + <p> + At dawn the work must be finished. + </p> + <p> + And the potter, old and dying, in his deserted field, raises toward the + light of the rising sun the dainty form, born of himself, in which he + longs to find, in perfect harmony, the dream of his long life. + </p> + <p> + In the form and tint of the frail little vase he has wished to fix for all + time the ephemeral forms and colors of all the most beautiful things. + </p> + <p> + Oh, god of day! The miracle is accomplished. The sun lights the round and + slender curves, the colorations infinitely refined, which blend + harmoniously, and bring back to the soul of the aged man, by the pathway + of his eyes, the sweetest joys of his youth, the skies of daybreak and the + mournful violet waves of the sea beneath the setting sun. + </p> + <p> + Oh, miracle of art, in which life is thus epitomized to make joy eternal! + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The humble artist raises toward the sun his fragile masterpiece, the + flower of his simple heart; he raises it in his trembling hands as though + to offer it to the unknown divinities who created primeval beauty. + </p> + <p> + But his hands, too weak and trembling, let it escape from them suddenly, + even as his tottering body lets his soul escape—and the potter’s + dream, fallen with him to the ground, breaks and scatters into fragments. + </p> + <p> + Where is it now, the form of that vase brought to the light for an + instant, and seen only by the sun and the humble artist? Surely, it must + be somewhere, that pure and happy form of the divine dream, made real for + an instant! + </p> + + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10577 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |