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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10577 ***
+
+
+
+
+INTERNATIONAL SHORT STORIES
+
+COMPILED BY
+FRANCIS J. REYNOLDS
+
+FRENCH
+
+1910
+
+
+
+
+
+FRENCH STORIES
+
+A PIECE OF BREAD _By Francois Coppee_
+
+THE ELIXIR OF LIFE _By Honore de Balzac_
+
+THE AGE FOR LOVE _By Paul Bourget_
+
+MATEO FALCONE _By Prosper Merimee_
+
+THE MIRROR _By Catulle Mendes_
+
+MY NEPHEW JOSEPH _By Ludovic Halevy_
+
+A FOREST BETROTHAL _By Erckmann-Chatrian_
+
+ZADIG THE BABYLONIAN _By Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire_
+
+ABANDONED _By Guy de Maupassant_
+
+THE GUILTY SECRET _By Paul de Kock_
+
+JEAN MONETTE _By Eugene Francois Vidocq_
+
+SOLANGE _By Alexandre Dumas_
+
+THE BIRDS IN THE LETTER-BOX _By Rene Bazin_
+
+JEAN GOURDON'S FOUR DAYS _By Emile Zola_
+
+BARON DE TRENCK _By Clemence Robert_
+
+THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA _By Henry Murger_
+
+THE WOMAN AND THE CAT _By Marcel Prevost_
+
+GIL BLAS AND DR. SANGRADO _By Alain Rene Le Sage_
+
+A FIGHT WITH A CANNON _By Victor Hugo_
+
+TONTON _By A. Cheneviere_
+
+THE LAST LESSON _By Alphonse Daudet_
+
+CROISILLES _By Alfred de Musset_
+
+THE VASE OF CLAY _By Jean Aicard_
+
+
+
+A PIECE OF BREAD
+
+BY FRANCOIS COPPEE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly he felt hungry.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+And, in a moment of impatience, the young man threw the rest of his bread
+into the mud.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You are very hungry?" he said, approaching the soldier.
+
+"As you see," replied the other with his mouth full.
+
+"Excuse me then. For if I had known that you would like the bread, I would
+not have thrown it away."
+
+"It does not harm it," replied the soldier, "I am not dainty."
+
+"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."
+
+The man had finished eating. The duke and he drank a mouthful of brandy;
+the acquaintance was made.
+
+"What is your name?" asked the soldier of the line.
+
+"Hardimont," replied the duke, omitting his title. "And yours?"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hardimont, stand up!" repeated the non-commissioned officer.
+
+"If you are willing, sergeant," said Jean-Victor rising, "I will take his
+duty, he is sleeping so soundly--and he is my comrade."
+
+"As you please."
+
+The five men left, and the snoring recommenced.
+
+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.
+
+"What time is it?" asked the duke. "I was to go on duty to-night."
+
+"Jean-Victor went in your place."
+
+At that moment a soldier was seen running toward them along the road.
+
+"What is it?" they cried as he stopped, out of breath.
+
+"The Prussians have attacked us, let us fall back to the redoubt."
+
+"And your comrades?"
+
+"They are coming--all but poor Jean-Victor."
+
+"Where is he?" cried the duke.
+
+"Shot through the head with a bullet--died without a word!--ough!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+"If you are willing, André," he said to his companion, "we will go home on
+foot--I need the air."
+
+"Just as you please, I am willing, although the walking may he bad."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What did you do that for?" asked the count, laughing heartily, "are you
+crazy?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+THE ELIXIR OF LIFE
+
+BY HONORE DE BALZAC
+
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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!"
+
+Don Juan rose, making a gesture to his guests, which might be translated:
+"Excuse me, this does not happen every day."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You were enjoying yourself!" cried the old man, on seeing his son.
+
+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.
+
+Bartholomeo said: "I do not grudge you your pleasure, my child."
+
+These words, full of tenderness, pained Don Juan, who could not forgive
+his father for such goodness.
+
+"What, sorrow for me, father!" he cried.
+
+"Poor Juanino," answered the dying man, "I have always been so gentle
+toward you that you could not wish for my death?"
+
+"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.")
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"He raves," said Don Juan to himself.
+
+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."
+
+"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----"
+
+"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!"
+
+"God! I am also God!" growled the old man.
+
+"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."
+
+"Are you going to listen to me?" cried the dying man, gnashing his
+toothless jaws.
+
+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.
+
+The dying man smiled.
+
+"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."
+
+"The delirium is at its height," said Don Juan to himself.
+
+"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."
+
+"I have it, father."
+
+"Good! Now take out a little flask of rock crystal."
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"I have spent twenty years in----"
+
+At this point the old man felt his end approaching, and collected all his
+energy to say:
+
+"As soon as I have drawn my last breath rub me with this water and I shall
+come to life again."
+
+"There is very little of it," replied the young man.
+
+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.
+
+"There, the good man is done for!" exclaimed Don Juan.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh, oh, is poor Don Juan really taking this death seriously?" said the
+prince in la Brambilla's ear.
+
+"Well, his father was a very good man," she replied.
+
+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:
+
+"Heigho! who would have thought Don Juan a mere boaster of impiety? He
+loved his father, after all!"
+
+"Did you notice the black dog?" asked la Brambilla.
+
+"He is immensely rich now," sighed Bianca Cavatolini.
+
+"What is that to me?" cried the proud Veronese, she who had broken the
+comfit dish.
+
+"What is that to you?" exclaimed the duke. "With his ducats he is as much a
+prince as I am!"
+
+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.
+
+"Leave me alone," he said in an altered voice, "and do not return until I
+go out again."
+
+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:
+
+"Now, let us try!"
+
+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!
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is to be done?" he thought
+
+He had the courage to try to close this white eyelid, but his efforts were
+in vain.
+
+"Shall I crush it out? Perhaps that would be parricide?" he asked himself.
+
+"Yes," said the eye, by means of an ironical wink.
+
+"Ah!" cried Don Juan, "there is sorcery in it!"
+
+He approached the eye to crush it. A large tear rolled down the hollow
+cheek of the corpse and fell on Belvidéro's hand.
+
+"It is scalding!" he cried, sitting down.
+
+This struggle had exhausted him, as if, like Jacob, he had battled with an
+angel.
+
+At last he arose, saying: "So long as there is no blood--"
+
+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.
+
+"Could he have been in the secret?" Don Juan wondered, surveying the
+faithful animal.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"What a cheerless jest!" he cried. "It does not come from a god!"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes; but God wants one to do penance in this world."
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, if that is your idea of old age," cried the Pope, "you are in danger
+of being canonized."
+
+"After your elevation to the papacy, one may expect anything."
+
+And then they went to watch the workmen engaged in building the huge
+basilica consecrated to St. Peter.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, tell them to me at once, father!"
+
+"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."
+
+At this point Don Juan, feeling the approach of death, added in a terrible
+voice: "Be careful of the flask!"
+
+Then he died gently in the arms of his son, whose tears fell upon his
+ironical and sallow face.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+An old servant cried: "A miracle!"
+
+And all the Spaniards repeated: "A miracle!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"Te Deum laudamus!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Te Deum laudamus!" sang the crowd.
+
+"Go to the devil, brute beasts that you are! 'Carajos demonios!' Beasts!
+what idiots you are with your God!"
+
+And a torrent of curses rolled forth like a stream of burning lava at an
+eruption of Vesuvius.
+
+"'Deus sabaoth! sabaoth'!" cried the Christians.
+
+Then the living arm was thrust out of the reliquary and waved
+threateningly over the assembly with a gesture full of despair and irony.
+
+"The saint is blessing us!" said the credulous old women, the children and
+the young maids.
+
+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.
+
+When the Abbot, bowing low before the altar, chanted: "'Sancte Johannes,
+ora pro nobis'!" he heard distinctly: "'O coglione'!"
+
+"What is happening up there?" cried the superior, seeing the reliquary
+move.
+
+"The saint is playing devil!" replied the Abbot.
+
+At this the living head tore itself violently away from the dead body and
+fell upon the yellow pate of the priest.
+
+"Remember, Doña Elvira!" cried the head, fastening its teeth in the head
+of the Abbot.
+
+The latter gave a terrible shriek, which threw the crowd into a panic. The
+priests rushed to the assistance of their chief.
+
+"Imbecile! Now say that there is a God!" cried the voice, just as the
+Abbot expired.
+
+
+
+THE AGE FOR LOVE
+
+BY PAUL BOURGET
+
+
+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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Strike that off," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "He is not on good
+terms with us."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Nevertheless, I will have an interview with Fauchery for the Boulevard,"
+was my reply. "I am sure of it."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Permit me to tell you my reason later. In forty-eight hours you will see
+whether I have succeeded or not."
+
+"Go and do not spare the fellow."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _malice_ 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!"
+
+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?"
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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:
+
+  "'Cependant, j'ai quelques charmes
+  Qui sont assez eclatants
+  Pour n'avoir pas trop d'alarmes
+  De ces ravages du temps.'
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.'"
+
+"And had she loved him?" I interrupted.
+
+"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."
+
+"What then?" I asked, as he paused.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"He would not even receive me," I replied, boldly.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+MATEO FALCONE
+
+BY PROSPER MERIMEE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He approached Fortunato and said: "You are the son of Mateo
+Falcone?"--"Yes."
+
+"I am Gianetto Saupiero. I am followed by the yellow-collars [Note:
+Slang for Gendarmes.]. Hide me, for I can go no farther."
+
+"And what will my father say if I hide you without his permission?"
+
+"He will say that you have done well."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Hide me quickly; they are coming."
+
+"Wait till my father gets back."
+
+"How can I wait? Malediction! They will be here in five minutes. Come,
+hide me, or I will kill you."
+
+Fortunato answered him with the utmost coolness:
+
+"Your gun is empty, and there are no more cartridges in your belt."
+
+"I have my stiletto."
+
+"But can you run as fast as I can?"
+
+He gave a leap and put himself out of reach.
+
+"You are not the son of Mateo Falcone! Will you then let me be captured
+before your house?"
+
+The child appeared moved.
+
+"What will you give me if I hide you?" said he, coming nearer.
+
+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:
+
+"Fear nothing."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Good day, little cousin," said he, approaching Fortunato; "how tall you
+have grown. Have you seen a man go past here just now?"
+
+"Oh! I am not yet so tall as you, my cousin," replied the child with a
+simple air.
+
+"You soon will be. But haven't you seen a man go by here, tell me?"
+
+"If I have seen a man go by?"
+
+"Yes, a man with a pointed hat of black velvet, and a vest embroidered
+with red and yellow."
+
+"A man with a pointed hat, and a vest embroidered with red and yellow?"
+
+"Yes, answer quickly, and don't repeat my questions?"
+
+"This morning the curé passed before our door on his horse, Piero. He
+asked me how papa was, and I answered him--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Who knows?"
+
+"Who knows? It is I know that you have seen him."
+
+"Can any one see who passes when they are asleep?"
+
+"You were not asleep, rascal; the shooting woke you up."
+
+"Then you believe, cousin, that your guns make so much noise? My father's
+carbine has the advantage of them."
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+Fortunato continued to sneer.
+
+"My father is Mateo Falcone," said he with emphasis.
+
+"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."
+
+The child burst out laughing at this ridiculous menace. He repeated:
+
+"My father is Mateo Falcone."
+
+"Adjutant," said one of the soldiers in a low voice, "let us have no
+quarrels with Mateo."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"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."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"You will see. But hold on!--be a good boy and I will give you something."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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.'"
+
+"When I am grown up, my uncle, the Caporal, will give me a watch."
+
+"Yes; but your uncle's little boy has one already; not so fine as this
+either. But then, he is younger than you."
+
+The child sighed.
+
+"Well! Would you like this watch, little cousin?"
+
+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!"
+
+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:
+
+"Why do you make fun of me?"
+
+"Good God! I am not making fun of you. Only tell me where Gianetto is and
+the watch is yours."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Gianetto, lying on the earth and bound like a fagot, turned his head
+towards Fortunato, who had approached.
+
+"Son of--!" said he, with more contempt than anger.
+
+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:
+
+"My dear Gamba, I cannot walk; you will be obliged to carry me to the
+city."
+
+"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."
+
+"Good," said the prisoner, "You will also put a little straw on your
+litter that I may be more comfortable."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Hello! old comrade," cried he. "How do you do, my good fellow? It is I,
+Gamba, your cousin."
+
+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.
+
+"Good-day, brother," said the Adjutant, holding out his hand. "It is a
+long time since I have seen you."
+
+"Good-day, brother."
+
+"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."
+
+"God be praised!" cried Giuseppa. "He stole a milch goat from us last
+week."
+
+These words reassured Gamba.
+
+"Poor devil!" said Mateo, "he was hungry."
+
+"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."
+
+"Fortunato!" cried Mateo.
+
+"Fortunato!" repeated Giuseppa.
+
+"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."
+
+"Malediction!" said Mateo in a low voice.
+
+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:
+
+"House of a traitor."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Get away from me!" cried the outlaw, in a loud voice. Then, turning to
+one of the soldiers, he said:
+
+"Comrade, give me a drink."
+
+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.
+
+"I like," said he, "to lie at my ease."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"You begin well," said Mateo at last with a calm voice, but frightful to
+one who knew the man.
+
+"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!"
+
+The little fellow stopped and sobbed, immovable, a few feet from his
+father.
+
+Giuseppa drew near. She had just discovered the watch-chain, the end of
+which was hanging out of Fortunato's jacket.
+
+"Who gave you that watch?" demanded she in a severe tone.
+
+"My cousin, the Adjutant."
+
+Falcone seized the watch and smashed it in a thousand pieces against a
+rock.
+
+"Wife," said he, "is this my child?"
+
+Giuseppa's cheeks turned a brick-red.
+
+"What are you saying, Mateo? Do you know to whom you speak?"
+
+"Very well, this child is the first of his race to commit treason."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Leave me alone," said Mateo, "I am his father."
+
+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.
+
+"Fortunato, go close to that big rock there."
+
+The child did as he was commanded, then he kneeled.
+
+"Say your prayers."
+
+"Oh, father, father, do not kill me!"
+
+"Say your prayers!" repeated Mateo in a terrible voice.
+
+The boy, stammering and sobbing, recited the Pater and the Credo. At the
+end of each prayer the father loudly answered, "Amen!"
+
+"Are those all the prayers you know?"
+
+"Oh! father, I know the Ave Maria and the litany that my aunt taught me."
+
+"It is very long, but no matter."
+
+The child finished the litany in a scarcely audible tone.
+
+"Are you finished?"
+
+"Oh! my father, have mercy! Pardon me! I will never do so again. I will
+beg my cousin, the Caporal, to pardon Gianetto."
+
+He was still speaking. Mateo raised his gun, and, taking aim, said:
+
+"May God pardon you!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What have you done?" cried she.
+
+"Justice."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"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."
+
+
+
+THE MIRROR
+
+BY CATULLE MENDES
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+Such a dismal state of affairs, especially for the pretty coquettes, who
+were no more rare in this country than in others.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Tell me the truth," she would say; "what is the color of my eyes?"
+
+"They are like dewy forget-me-nots."
+
+"And my skin is not quite black?"
+
+"You know that your forehead is whiter than freshly fallen snow, and your
+cheeks are like blush roses."
+
+"How about my lips?"
+
+"Cherries are pale beside them."
+
+"And my teeth, if you please?"
+
+"Grains of rice are not as white."
+
+"But my ears, should I be ashamed of them?"
+
+"Yes, if you would be ashamed of two little pink shells among your pretty
+curls."
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"What is the matter, my good woman? What is it you see? Tell me."
+
+"The ugliest creature I ever beheld."
+
+"Then you are not looking at me," said Jacinta, with innocent vanity.
+
+"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!"
+
+"What! am I ugly?"
+
+"A hundred times uglier than I can tell you."
+
+"But my eyes--"
+
+"They are a sort of dirty gray; but that would be nothing if you had not
+such an outrageous squint!"
+
+"My complexion--"
+
+"It looks as if you had rubbed coal-dust on your forehead and cheeks."
+
+"My mouth--"
+
+"It is pale and withered, like a faded flower."
+
+"My teeth--"
+
+"If the beauty of teeth is to be large and yellow, I never saw any so
+beautiful as yours."
+
+"But, at least, my ears--"
+
+"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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"What is all this?" said the wicked queen. "Who are these people? and what
+do they want?"
+
+"Your Majesty, you have before you the most unfortunate lover on the face
+of the earth."
+
+"Do you consider that a good reason for coming here to annoy me?"
+
+"Have pity on me."
+
+"What have I to do with your love affairs?"
+
+"If you would permit a mirror----"
+
+The queen rose to her feet, trembling with rage. "Who dares to speak to me
+of a mirror?" she said, grinding her teeth.
+
+"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."
+
+"Well," said the queen, with a malicious grin, "she is right. I never saw
+a more hideous object."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+
+
+MY NEPHEW JOSEPH
+
+BY LUDOVIC HALEVY
+
+
+(_Scene passes at Versailles; two old gentlemen are conversing, seated on
+a bench in the King's garden._)
+
+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."
+
+"You are perfectly right, my dear Monsieur, the profession of journalism
+should be restricted by examinations, the issuing of warrants, the
+granting of licenses--"
+
+"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."
+
+"Now, that is strange! But how do they become journalists?"
+
+"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."
+
+"How well acquainted you are with all this!"
+
+"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."
+
+"One what?"
+
+"A reporter."
+
+"A reporter in your family, which always seemed so united! How can that
+be?"
+
+"One can almost say that the devil was at the bottom of it. You know my
+nephew Joseph--"
+
+"Little Joseph! Is he a reporter?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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--"
+
+"The murder of the Rue Montorgueil--that clerk who killed his sweetheart,
+a little brewery maid?"
+
+"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."
+
+"With the murderer!"
+
+"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?"
+
+"I don't think anything--I am amazed! Little Joseph a reporter!"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"The Northern is doing very well; it went up this week----"
+
+"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."
+
+"The Spaniard?"
+
+"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."
+
+"He had decamped?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You were brought up for examination?"
+
+"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!'"
+
+"Then they sent for your brother?"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"That was well answered."
+
+"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."
+
+"Didn't they find your nephew Joseph?"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"When did all this take place?"
+
+"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.'"
+
+"And your nephew Joseph followed the detective?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"And your nephew still clings to journalism?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What does your brother say to all this?"
+
+"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'?"
+
+"Yes, you gave me a box of them."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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!"
+
+
+
+A FOREST BETROTHAL
+
+BY ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh, what a charming bird; but she whistles well and her pretty chin,
+round like a peach, is sweet to look upon."
+
+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.
+
+"Good-day, my pretty one!" he said.
+
+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?).
+
+"Ah!" she said, with a bright smile, "it is Mr. Zacharias Seiler!"
+
+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:
+
+"Where are you going through the forest at this hour, my dear child?"
+
+She stretched out her hand and showed him, way at the end of the valley, a
+forester's house.
+
+"I am returning to my father's house, the Corporal Yeri Foerster. You know
+him, without doubt, Monsieur le Juge."
+
+"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?"
+
+"Yes, Monsieur; I have just come from the town and am returning home."
+
+"That is a very pretty bunch of Alpine berries you have,'" exclaimed the
+old man.
+
+She detached the bouquet from her belt and tendered it to him.
+
+"If it would please you, Monsieur Seiler."
+
+Zacharias was touched.
+
+"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."
+
+"He is about your age, Monsieur le Juge," said Charlotte innocently,
+"between fifty-five and sixty years of age."
+
+This simple speech recalled the good man to his senses, and as he walked
+beside her be became pensive.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The shadows on Romelstein were lengthening and the setting sun spread its
+purple fringe behind the high fir-trees on Alpnach.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Christine, Christine! Monsieur le Juge Zacharias Seiler wishes to sleep
+under our roof to-night."
+
+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:
+
+"What? Is it possible? Monsieur le Juge!"
+
+"My good people," said Mr. Zacharias, "truly you do me too much honor--I
+hope--"
+
+"Monsieur le Juge, if you forget the favors you have done to others, they
+remember them."
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+To which speech Mr. Zacharias made reply:
+
+"Dame Christine, you possess a treasure! Mademoiselle Charlotte merits all
+the good I have said of her."
+
+Then Master Yeri, raising his glass, cried out: "Let us drink to the
+health of our good and venerated Judge Zacharias Seiler!"
+
+The toast was drunk with a will.
+
+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!
+
+"Come, Master Yeri," he said, "it is bedtime. Good-night, and many thanks
+for your hospitality."
+
+"At what hour do you wish to rise, Monsieur?" asked Christine.
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"Bah! I have never had anything ail me, Master Forester; I have never been
+more vigorous or more nimble."
+
+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:
+
+"Sleep Zacharias! Sleep! You have great need of rest; you are very tired."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Besides, Mr. Seiler wished to share all his occupations, following him in
+his rounds in the Grinderwald and Entilbach.
+
+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?"
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That warms one up," he would say, laughing. And when he had tasted this
+wine he could not help saying:
+
+"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."
+
+At this moment the old man appeared descending the hillside in the shade
+of the pines with a brisk step.
+
+As far off as Yeri could make himself heard, he called out, his glass in
+his hand:
+
+"Here is to the best man I know! Here is to our benefactor."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Monsieur le Juge, will you deign to accept this bouquet from your little
+friend Charlotte?"
+
+A sudden blush overspread his venerable cheeks, and as she stooped to kiss
+his hand, he said:
+
+"No, no, my dear child; accept rather from your old friend, your best
+friend, a more tender embrace."
+
+He kissed both her burning cheeks. The Head Forester laughing heartily,
+cried out:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"What is that?" he cried.
+
+After a few seconds' silence a soft voice replied:
+
+"Charlotte, Charlotte--it is I!"
+
+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.
+
+The old man being indignant at this, rose and opened the window, upon
+which the stranger climbed through noiselessly.
+
+"Do not be frightened, Charlotte," he said, "I have come to tell you some
+good news. My father will be here tomorrow."
+
+He received no response, for the reason that Zacharias was trying to light
+the lamp.
+
+"Where are you, Charlotte?"
+
+"Here I am," cried the old man turning with a livid face and gazing
+fiercely at his rival.
+
+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.
+
+The apparition of Zacharias stunned him to immovability. But as the Judge
+was about to cry out, he exclaimed:
+
+"In the name of Heaven, do not call. I am no robber--I love Charlotte!"
+
+"And--she--she?" stammered Zacharias.
+
+"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."
+
+"Yeri Foerster--Yeri, Charlotte's father, never told me."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+And he gazed anxiously at the door, his ear on the alert for the least
+sound.
+
+A few moments afterward, Zacharias lifting his head, as though awakening
+from a dream, asked him:
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Karl Imnant, Monsieur."
+
+"What is your business?"
+
+"My father hopes to obtain the position of a forester in the Grinderwald
+for me."
+
+There was a long silence and Zacharias looked at the young man with an
+envious eye.
+
+"And she loves you?" he asked in a broken voice.
+
+"Oh, yes, Monsieur; we love each other devotedly."
+
+And Zacharias, letting his eyes fall on his thin legs and his hands
+wrinkled and veined, murmured:
+
+"Yes, she ought to love him; he is young and handsome."
+
+And his head fell on his breast again. All at once he arose, trembling in
+every limb, and opened the window.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Poor, poor Zacharias," the old Judge murmured, "all your illusions are
+fled."
+
+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:
+
+"My friend, I have a favor to ask of you. You know the son of the forester
+of the Grinderwald, do you not?"
+
+"Karl Imnant, why yes, sir!"
+
+"He is a worthy young man, and well behaved, I believe."
+
+"I think so, Monsieur."
+
+"Is he capable of succeeding his father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+At this request, Charlotte, who had blushed and trembled with fear,
+uttered a cry and fell back into her mother's arms.
+
+Her father looking at her severely, said: "What is the matter, Charlotte?
+Do you refuse?"
+
+"Oh, no, no, father--no!"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+Fifteen days afterward, Karl Imnant received the appointment of forester,
+taking his father's place. Eight days later, he and Charlotte were
+married.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+ZADIG THE BABYLONIAN
+
+BY FRANCOIS MARIE AROUET DE VOLTAIRE
+
+
+THE BLIND OF ONE EYE
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+
+THE NOSE
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah," replied Azora, "didst thou but know in what she was employed when I
+went to wait upon her!"
+
+"In what, pray, beautiful Azora? Was she turning the course of the
+rivulet?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She wept, she tore her hair, and swore she would follow him to the grave.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Art thou subject to this cruel disorder?" said she to him with a
+compassionate air.
+
+"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."
+
+"A strange remedy, indeed!" said Azora.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+THE ENVIOUS MAN
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+To flagrant crimes
+His crown he owes,
+To peaceful times
+The worst of foes.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE GENEROUS
+
+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:
+
+"Receive this reward of thy generosity, and may the gods grant me many
+subjects like to thee."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+
+THE MINISTER
+
+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."
+
+"Soon," replied the parrot.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+
+THE DISPUTES AND THE AUDIENCES
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+
+JEALOUSY
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE WOMAN BEATEN
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE STONE
+
+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.
+
+"In what place," said Zadig, "didst thou lend the five hundred ounces to
+this infidel?"
+
+"Upon a large stone," replied the merchant, "that lies near Mount Oreb."
+
+"What is the character of thy debtor?" said Zadig. "That of a knave,"
+returned Setoc.
+
+"But I ask thee whether he is lively or phlegmatic, cautious or
+imprudent?"
+
+"He is, of all bad payers," said Setoc, "the most lively fellow I ever
+knew."
+
+"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."
+
+"Hast thou any witnesses?" said the judge.
+
+"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."
+
+"With all my heart," replied the judge, and immediately applied himself to
+the discussion of other affairs.
+
+When the court was going to break up, the judge said to Zadig. "Well,
+friend, is not thy stone come yet?"
+
+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."
+
+"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.
+
+The slave Zadig and the stone were held in great repute in Arabia.
+
+
+THE FUNERAL PILE
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"No," said Setoc, "the brightness of the stars commands my adoration."
+
+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.
+
+"What art thou doing?" said Setoc to him in amaze.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+"It would appear then," said Zadig, "that there must be a very delicious
+pleasure in being burned alive."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"Alas!" said the lady, "I believe I should desire thee to marry me."
+
+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.
+
+
+THE SUPPER
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+
+THE ROBBER
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"May I take the liberty of asking thee," said Zadig, "how long thou hast
+followed this noble profession?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Moabdar killed!" said Zadig, "and what is become of Queen Astarte?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But the queen," said Zadig; "for heaven's sake, knowest thou nothing of
+the queen's fate?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE FISHERMAN
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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 _malice_,
+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.
+
+"Why," said Zadig to the fisherman, "dost thou sink under thy
+misfortunes?"
+
+"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."
+
+Zadig, transported, said, "What, knowest thou nothing of the queen's
+fate?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+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?"
+
+"An hundred times more unhappy than thou art," replied Zadig.
+
+"But how is it possible," said the good man, "that the giver can be more
+wretched than the receiver?"
+
+"Because," replied Zadig, "thy greatest misery arose from poverty, and
+mine is seated in the heart."
+
+"Did Orcan take thy wife from thee?" said the fisherman.
+
+This word recalled to Zadig's mind the whole of his adventures.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE BASILISK
+
+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."
+
+"Strange," said Zadig, "may I presume to ask thee what it is that women
+only are permitted to touch?"
+
+"It is a basilisk," said she.
+
+"A basilisk, madam! and for what purpose, pray, dost thou seek for a
+basilisk?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+
+THE COMBATS
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+THE HERMIT
+
+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.
+
+"Thou seemest," said this good father, "to be in great distress."
+
+"Alas," replied Zadig, "I have but too much reason."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+They talked of passions. "Ah," said Zadig, "how fatal are their effects!"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Thanks be to God," said he, "the house of my dear host is entirely
+destroyed! Happy man!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"O monster! O thou most wicked of mankind!" cried Zadig.
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Men," said the angel Jesrad, "judge of all without knowing anything; and,
+of all men, thou best deservest to be enlightened."
+
+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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But why," said Zadig, "is it necessary that there should be crimes and
+misfortunes, and that these misfortunes should fall on the good?"
+
+"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."
+
+"But," said Zadig, "suppose there were nothing but good and no evil at
+all."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+
+THE ENIGMAS
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+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?"
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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!"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+ABANDONED
+
+BY GUY DE MAUPASSANT
+
+
+"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."
+
+Madame de Cadour turned to her old friend and said:
+
+"Will you come with me, Monsieur d'Apreval?"
+
+He bowed with a smile, and with all the gallantry of former years:
+
+"I will go wherever you go," he replied.
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"At last! at last!"
+
+"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--"
+
+She started.
+
+"Oh! Henri, do not say that man, when you are speaking of him."
+
+"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?"
+
+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:
+
+"And so you have not seen him again, either?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"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."
+
+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!
+
+And then--her discovery--of the penalty she paid! What anguish!
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+And what she felt when she heard the child's feeble cries, that wail, that
+first effort of a human's voice!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+How often she had said to M. d'Apreval: "I cannot bear it any longer; I
+must go and see him."
+
+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.
+
+"What is he like?" she said.
+
+"I do not know. I have not seen him again, either."
+
+"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."
+
+They went along the dusty road, overcome by the scorching sun, and
+continually ascending that interminable hill.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"Sit down a little," he said.
+
+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."
+
+She got up.
+
+"I will," she said, and wiping her eyes, she began to walk again with the
+uncertain step of an elderly woman.
+
+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.
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval went up to them.
+
+"Where is Pierre Benedict's farm?" he asked.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Oh! Heaven! Heaven!"
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval, who was also nervous and rather pale, said to her
+somewhat gruffly:
+
+"If you cannot manage to control your feelings, you will betray yourself
+at once. Do try and restrain yourself."
+
+"How can I?" she replied. "My child! When I think that I am going to see
+my child."
+
+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.
+
+"This is it," he said.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+There were four bee-hives on boards against the wall of the house.
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval stood outside and called out:
+
+"Is anybody at home?"
+
+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.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked.
+
+"Is your father in?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+"Gone after the cows."
+
+"Will she be back soon?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Then suddenly the lady, as if she feared that her companion might force
+her to return, said quickly:
+
+"I shall not go without having seen him."
+
+"We will wait for him, my dear friend."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Here is mamma." the child said.
+
+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.
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval called her back.
+
+"I beg your pardon, madame, but we came in to know whether you could sell
+us two glasses of milk."
+
+She was grumbling when she reappeared in the door, after putting down her
+pails.
+
+"I don't sell milk," she replied.
+
+"We are very thirsty," he said, "and madame is very tired. Can we not get
+something to drink?"
+
+The peasant woman gave them an uneasy and cunning glance and then she made
+up her mind.
+
+"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.
+
+"You have come from Fécamp?" she said.
+
+"Yes," Monsieur d'Apreval replied, "we are staying at Fécamp for the
+summer."
+
+And then, after a short silence he continued:
+
+"Have you any fowls you could sell us every week?"
+
+The woman hesitated for a moment and then replied:
+
+"Yes, I think I have. I suppose you want young ones?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"What do you pay for them in the market?"
+
+D'Apreval, who had not the least idea, turned to his companion:
+
+"What are you paying for poultry in Fécamp, my dear lady?"
+
+"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:
+
+"Is the lady ill, as she is crying?"
+
+He did not know what to say, and replied with some hesitation:
+
+"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."
+
+Mother Benedict did not reply, as she thought it a very equivocal sort of
+answer, but suddenly she exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, here is my husband!"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Confound it! What a brute!"
+
+And he went past them and disappeared in the cow house.
+
+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:
+
+"Is this Monsieur Benedict?"
+
+"Who told you his name?" the wife asked, still rather suspiciously.
+
+"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:
+
+"Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty."
+
+Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar and
+left the two Parisians alone.
+
+"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.
+
+As soon as they were outside the gate, she began to sob and said, shaking
+with grief:
+
+"Oh! oh! is that what you have made of him?"
+
+He was very pale and replied coldly:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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!"
+
+Neither of them replied, and when the husband asked them, rubbing his
+hands:
+
+"Well, I hope that, at least, you have had a pleasant walk?"
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval replied:
+
+"A delightful walk, I assure you; perfectly delightful."
+
+
+THE GUILTY SECRET
+
+BY PAUL DE KOCK
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+And Nathalie, who had great confidence in all her uncle said, would stay
+at home.
+
+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."
+
+So they changed the cook.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"It was only for your own amusement that I wished to teach it to you,"
+said the good M. d'Ablaincourt.
+
+Things were at this crisis when, at a ball one evening, Nathalie was
+introduced to a M. d'Apremont, a captain in the navy.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+He soon captivated the heart of the pretty widow, also. One morning,
+Nathalie came blushing to her uncle.
+
+"The captain has asked me to marry him. What do you advise me to do?"
+
+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."
+
+Nathalie loved Armand; but she would not yield too easily. She sent for
+the captain.
+
+"If you really love me--"
+
+"Ah, can you doubt it?"
+
+"Hush! do not interrupt me. If you really love me, you will give me one
+proof of it."
+
+"Anything you ask. I swear--"
+
+"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."
+
+Armand sighed, and promised.
+
+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.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Nathalie one day, on seeing him stamp with
+impatience. "Why are you so irritable?"
+
+"Nothing--nothing at all!" replied the captain, as if ashamed of his ill
+humor.
+
+"Tell me," Nathalie insisted, "have I displeased you in anything?"
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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--"
+
+"Oh, no! What objection can I have?"
+
+He went out, and continued to do so, day after day, at the same hour.
+Invariably he returned in the best of good humor.
+
+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."
+
+And she went to seek her uncle. "Ah, I am the most unhappy creature in the
+world!" she sobbed.
+
+"What is the matter?" cried the old man, leaning back in his armchair.
+
+"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."
+
+"But, my dear niece--"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"But in what direction does he go?"
+
+"Sometimes one way, and sometimes another, but always alone; so your
+suspicions are unfounded. Be assured, he only walks for exercise."
+
+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.
+
+"M. d'Apremont goes out every evening."
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"To-morrow, you will follow him; observe where he goes, and come and tell
+me privately. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+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.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Nathalie, "speak! Tell me everything that you have
+seen!"
+
+"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."
+
+"An alley! No servant! Dreadful!"
+
+"I went in directly after him, and heard him go up-stairs and unlock a
+door."
+
+"Open the door himself, without knocking! Are you sure of that?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"The wretch! So he has a key! But, go on."
+
+"When the door shut after him, I stole softly up-stairs, and peeped
+through the keyhole."
+
+"You shall have twenty francs more."
+
+"I peeped through the keyhole, and saw him drag a trunk along the floor."
+
+"A trunk?"
+
+"Then he undressed himself, and--"
+
+"Undressed himself!"
+
+"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."
+
+"A blouse! What in the world does he want with a blouse? What next?"
+
+"I came away, then, madame, and made haste to tell you; but he is there
+still."
+
+"Well, now run to the corner and get me a cab, and direct the coachman to
+the house where you have been."
+
+While the messenger went for the cab, Nathalie hurried on her hat and
+cloak, and ran into her uncle's room.
+
+"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."
+
+The old man had no time to reply. She was gone, with her messenger, in the
+cab. They stopped at last.
+
+"Here is the house."
+
+Nathalie got out, pale and trembling.
+
+"Shall I go up-stairs with you, madame?" asked the boy.
+
+"No, I will go alone. The third story, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, madame; the left-hand door, at the head of the stairs."
+
+It seemed that now, indeed, the end of all things was at hand.
+
+Nathalie mounted the dark, narrow stairs, and arrived at the door, and,
+almost fainting, she cried: "Open the door, or I shall die!"
+
+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.
+
+"My wife!" exclaimed Armand, in surprise.
+
+"Your wife--who, suspecting your perfidy, has followed you, to discover
+the cause of your mysterious conduct!"
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+And Nathalie returned to her uncle, saying: "Uncle, he loves me! He was
+only smoking, but hereafter he is to smoke at home."
+
+"I can arrange it all," said D'Ablaincourt; "he shall smoke while he plays
+backgammon."
+
+"In that way," thought the old man, "I shall be sure of my game."
+
+
+
+JEAN MONETTE
+
+BY EUGENE FRANCOIS VIDOCQ
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The old man kept his word, and Emma was not allowed for several days to
+leave the rooms on the fourth floor.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The two confederates were to wait some time, when he was to come to the
+door on some pretext and let them in.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+SOLANGE
+
+DR. LEDRU'S STORY OF THE REIGN OF TERROR
+
+BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"There is M. Albert! He knows me! He will tell you that I am the daughter
+of Mme. Ledieu, the laundress."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The young girl pressed my arm. I perceived in this pressure the expression
+of her great distress of mind. I understood it.
+
+"So it is you, my poor Solange?" I said. "What are you doing here?"
+
+"There, messieurs!" she exclaimed in tones of deep anxiety; "do you
+believe me now?"
+
+"You might at least say 'citizens!'"
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Certainly, I will vouch for you."
+
+"Very well," said the leader of the patrol; "and who, pray, will vouch for
+you, my friend?"
+
+"Danton! Do you know him? Is he a good patriot?"
+
+"Oh, if Danton will vouch for you, I have nothing to say."
+
+"Well, there is a session of the Cordeliers to-day. Let us go there."
+
+"Good," said the leader. "Citizens, let us go to the Cordeliers."
+
+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.
+
+The sergeant entered the clubhouse and returned with Danton.
+
+"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?"
+
+"You vouch for him. Do you also vouch for her?" asked the stubborn
+sergeant.
+
+"For her? To whom do you refer?"
+
+"This girl."
+
+"For everything; for everybody who may be in his company. Does that
+satisfy you?"
+
+"Yes," said the man; "especially since I have had the privilege of seeing
+you."
+
+With a cheer for Danton, the patrol marched away. I was about to thank
+Danton, when his name was called repeatedly within.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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.
+
+I remained standing at the door, alone with my unknown.
+
+"And now, my lady," I said, "whither would you have me escort you? I am at
+your disposal."
+
+"Why, to Mme. Ledieu," she said with a laugh. "I told you she was my
+mother."
+
+"And where does Mme. Ledieu reside?"
+
+"Rue Ferou, 24."
+
+"Then, let us proceed to Rue Ferou, 24."
+
+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.
+
+Arrived at the door of the house, we looked at each other a moment in
+silence.
+
+"Well, my dear M. Albert, what do you wish?" my fair unknown asked with a
+smile.
+
+"I was about to say, my dear Mlle. Solange, that it was hardly worth while
+to meet if we are to part so soon."
+
+"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."
+
+"You admit, then, that you are an aristocrat?"
+
+"I admit nothing."
+
+"At least you might tell me your name."
+
+"Solange."
+
+"I know very well that this name, which I gave you on the inspiration of
+the moment, is not your right name."
+
+"No matter; I like it, and I am going to keep it--at least for you."
+
+"Why should you keep it for me? if we are not to meet again?"
+
+"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."
+
+"So be it, then; but I say, Solange," I began.
+
+"I am listening, Albert," she replied.
+
+"You are an aristocrat--that you admit."
+
+"If I did not admit it, you would surmise it, and so my admission would be
+divested of half its merit."
+
+"And you were pursued because you were suspected of being an aristocrat?"
+
+"I fear so."
+
+"And you are hiding to escape persecution?"
+
+"In the Rue Ferou, No. 24, with Mme. Ledieu, whose husband was my father's
+coachman. You see, I have no secret from you."
+
+"And your father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"And what are you going to do?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Were you coming from your father when the guard arrested you to-night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Listen, dearest Solange."
+
+"I am all attention."
+
+"You observed all that took place to-night?"
+
+"Yes. I saw that you had powerful influence."
+
+"I regret my power is not very great. However, I have friends."
+
+"I made the acquaintance of one of them."
+
+"And you know he is not one of the least powerful men of the times."
+
+"Do you intend to enlist his influence to enable my father to escape?"
+
+"No, I reserve him for you."
+
+"But my father?"
+
+"I have other ways of helping your father."
+
+"Other ways?" exclaimed Solange, seizing my hands and studying me with an
+anxious expression.
+
+"If I serve your father, will you then sometimes think kindly of me?"
+
+"Oh, I shall all my life hold you in grateful remembrance!"
+
+She uttered these words with an enchanting expression of devotion. Then
+she looked at me beseechingly and said:
+
+"But will that satisfy you?"
+
+"Yes," I said.
+
+"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!"
+
+"When shall we meet again, Solange?"
+
+"When do you think it necessary to see me again?"
+
+"To-morrow, when I hope to have good news for you."
+
+"Well, then, to-morrow."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Here."
+
+"Here in the street?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Why may I not go to you, or you come to me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, I would give you the pass of one of my relatives."
+
+"And send your relative to the guillotine if I should be accidentally
+arrested!"
+
+"True. I will bring you a pass made out in the name of Solange."
+
+"Charming! You observe Solange is my real name."
+
+"And the hour?"
+
+"The same at which we met to-night--ten o'clock, if you please."
+
+"All right; ten o'clock. And how shall we meet?"
+
+"That is very simple. Be at the door at five minutes of ten, and at ten I
+will come down."
+
+"Then, at ten to-morrow, dear Solange."
+
+"To-morrow at ten, dear Albert."
+
+I wanted to kiss her hand; she offered me her brow.
+
+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.
+
+With one leap I was by her side.
+
+"I see you have good news," she said.
+
+"Excellent! First, here is a pass for you."
+
+"First my father!"
+
+She repelled my hand.
+
+"Your father is saved, if he wishes."
+
+"Wishes, you say? What is required of him?"
+
+"He must trust me."
+
+"That is assured."
+
+"Have you seen him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You have discussed the situation with him?"
+
+"It was unavoidable. Heaven will help us."
+
+"Did you tell your father all?"
+
+"I told him you had saved my life yesterday, and that you would perhaps
+save his to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow! Yes, quite right; to-morrow I shall save his life, if it is
+his will."
+
+"How? What? Speak! Speak! If that were possible, how fortunately all
+things have come to pass!"
+
+"However--" I began hesitatingly.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"It will be impossible for you to accompany him."
+
+"I told you I was resolute."
+
+"I am quite confident, however, that I shall be able later to procure a
+passport for you."
+
+"First tell me about my father; my own distress is less important."
+
+"Well, I told you I had friends, did I not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To-day I sought out one of them."
+
+"Proceed."
+
+"A man whose name is familiar to you; whose name is a guarantee of courage
+and honor."
+
+"And this man is?"
+
+"Marceau."
+
+"General Marceau?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"True, he will keep a promise."
+
+"Well, he has promised."
+
+"Mon Dieu! How happy you make me! What has he promised? Tell me all."
+
+"He has promised to help us."
+
+"In what manner?"
+
+"In a very simple manner. Kléber has just had him promoted to the command
+of the western army. He departs to-morrow night."
+
+"To-morrow night! We shall have no time to make the smallest preparation."
+
+"There are no preparations to make."
+
+"I do not understand."
+
+"He will take your father with him."
+
+"My father?"
+
+"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."
+
+"To-morrow," exclaimed Solange; "my father departs tomorrow!"
+
+"There is no time to waste."
+
+"My father has not been informed."
+
+"Inform him."
+
+"To-night?"
+
+"To-night."
+
+"But how, at this hour?"
+
+"You have a pass and my arm."
+
+"True. My pass."
+
+I gave it to her. She thrust it into her bosom.
+
+"Now? your arm?"
+
+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."
+
+I bowed and waited.
+
+She disappeared around the corner of what was formerly the Hôtel Malignon.
+After a lapse of fifteen minutes she returned.
+
+"Come," she said, "my father wishes to receive and thank you."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"I cheerfully promise it now, and will repeat it to him."
+
+"I thank you in his name as well as in my own."
+
+"But when does Marceau depart?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Shall I go to him to-night?"
+
+"Whenever you please; he expects you."
+
+Father and daughter looked at each other.
+
+"I think it would be wise to go this very night," said Solange.
+
+"I am ready; but if I should be arrested, seeing that I have no permit?"
+
+"Here is mine."
+
+"But you?"
+
+"Oh, I am known."
+
+"Where does Marceau reside?"
+
+"Rue de l'Université, 40, with his sister, Mlle. Dégraviers-Marceau."
+
+"Will you accompany me?"
+
+"I shall follow you at a distance, to accompany mademoiselle home when you
+are gone."
+
+"How will Marceau know that I am the man of whom you spoke to him?"
+
+"You will hand him this tri-colored cockade; that is the sign of
+identification."
+
+"And how shall I reward my liberator?"
+
+"By allowing him to save your daughter also."
+
+"Very well."
+
+He put on his hat and extinguished the lights, and we descended by the
+gleam of the moon which penetrated the stair-windows.
+
+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.
+
+"That is a good omen," I said; "do you wish me to go up with you?"
+
+"No. Do not compromise yourself any further. Await my daughter here."
+
+I bowed.
+
+"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."
+
+I answered him with a pressure of the hand.
+
+He entered the house. Solange followed him; but she, too, pressed my hand
+before she entered.
+
+In ten minutes the door was reopened.
+
+"Well?" I asked.
+
+"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."
+
+"Oh, be sure I shall come. Did your father charge you with any message for
+me?"
+
+"He thanks you for your pass, which he returns to you, and begs you to
+join him as soon as possible."
+
+"Whenever it may be your desire to go," I said, with a strange sensation
+at my heart.
+
+"At least, I must know where I am to join him," she said. "Ah, you are not
+yet rid of me!"
+
+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."
+
+I kissed her on the brow; but now I no longer strained her hand against my
+breast, but her heaving bosom, her throbbing heart.
+
+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.
+
+The next day I was in the Rue Ferou at nine o'clock. At half-past nine
+Solange made her appearance.
+
+She approached me and threw her arms around my neck.
+
+"Saved!" she said; "my father is saved! And this I owe you. Oh, how I love
+you!"
+
+Two weeks later Solange received a letter announcing her father's safe
+arrival in England.
+
+The next day I brought her a passport.
+
+When Solange received it she burst into tears.
+
+"You do not love me!" she exclaimed.
+
+"I love you better than my life," I replied; "but I pledged your father my
+word, and I must keep it."
+
+"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."
+
+Alas, she remained!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Those three months were the happiest of my life.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+My letter had hardly gone to the post when I received one from her.
+
+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.
+
+I passed a wretched night and a still more miserable day.
+
+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.
+
+The day ended early. At four o'clock I arrived at Clamart; it was almost
+night.
+
+The view of the cemetery, with its large, new-made graves; the sparse,
+leafless trees that swayed in the wind, was desolate, almost appalling.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It was the executioner's red hearse with its ghastly freight from the
+Place de la Révolution.
+
+The door of the little chapel was pushed ajar, and two men, drenched with
+rain, entered, carrying a sack between them.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+I heard them unharness the horse, lock the cemetery, and go away.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly I fancied I heard a voice! A voice at once soft and plaintive; a
+voice within the chapel, pronouncing the name of "Albert!"
+
+I was startled.
+
+"Albert!"
+
+But one person in all the world addressed me by that name!
+
+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.
+
+At this moment the same voice repeated the same name, only it sounded
+fainter and more plaintive.
+
+"Albert!"
+
+I bolted out of my chair, frozen with horror.
+
+The voice seemed to proceed from the sack!
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+I thought I should go mad.
+
+Three times I called:
+
+"Solange! Solange! Solange!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The following morning at six the grave-diggers found me, cold as the
+flagstones on which I lay.
+
+Solange, betrayed by her father's letter, had been arrested the same day,
+condemned, and executed.
+
+The head that had called me, the eyes that had looked at me, were the
+head, the eyes, of Solange!
+
+
+
+THE BIRDS IN THE LETTER-BOX
+
+BY RENE BAZIN
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+And he contented himself with clapping his hands together loud when he
+went into his orchard, so he should not see too much stealing.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Look, sir, a paper, and dirty, too! They are up to fine doings!"
+
+"Who, Philomène?"
+
+"Your miserable birds; all the birds that you let stay here! Pretty soon
+they'll be building their nests in your soup-tureens!"
+
+"I haven't but one."
+
+"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!"
+
+The abbé of St. Philémon began to laugh like a grandfather when he hears
+of a baby's pranks.
+
+"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."
+
+"No fear of that; it is not nice enough!"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+They thought that his eye was worse and did not write.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+He had in his bosom the heart of a child that had never grown old.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Behold, a babyhood ended and a good work accomplished. They are hardy and
+strong, every one."
+
+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.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said he, recognizing the writing. "A letter from the
+bishop; and in what a state! How long has it been here?"
+
+His cheek grew pale as he read.
+
+"Philomène, harness Robin quickly."
+
+She came to see what was the matter before obeying.
+
+"What have you there, sir?"
+
+"The bishop has been waiting for me three weeks!"
+
+"You've missed your chance," said the old woman.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+He clapped his hands impatiently.
+
+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:
+
+"Next year, Philomène, if the tomtit comes back, let me know. It is
+decidedly inconvenient."
+
+But the tomtit never came again--and neither did the letter from the
+bishop!
+
+
+
+JEAN GOURDON'S FOUR DAYS
+
+BY EMILE ZOLA
+
+
+SPRING
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I was tempted for a moment to cry out to him:
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh! how sound uncle Lazare must be sleeping!" I thought.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Oh! how my uncle must sleep!" I murmured to myself.
+
+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.
+
+Babet was very much afraid. She turned quite red, and hurried off
+stammering:
+
+"Thanks, Monsieur Jean, I thank you very much."
+
+As for me, wiping my wet hands, I stood motionless and confused before my
+uncle Lazare.
+
+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.
+
+"Jean," he said to me, "come into the broad walk. Breakfast is not ready.
+We have half an hour to spare."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+After a moment's silence, my uncle Lazare turned towards me.
+
+"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:
+
+"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."
+
+He was silent and seemed dreaming. I had raised my head, astonished,
+breathing at ease. My uncle was not preaching.
+
+"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--"
+
+I hung my head again. My uncle Lazare had certainly seen me.
+
+"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."
+
+At this point my uncle made me look him straight in the face. He concluded
+in these terms:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+My uncle appeared as much embarrassed as myself. After having hesitated
+for some instants he said, slightly stammering:
+
+"Jean, you were wrong not to have come and told me all--as you love Babet
+and Babet loves you--"
+
+"Babet loves me!" I exclaimed.
+
+My uncle made me an ill-humoured gesture.
+
+"Eh! allow me to speak. I don't want another avowal. She owned it to me
+herself."
+
+"She owned that to you, she owned that to you!"
+
+And I suddenly threw my arms round my uncle Lazare's neck.
+
+"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!"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+My uncle calmed me.
+
+"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."
+
+I felt anxious.
+
+"And I shall come back and marry Babet?" I inquired.
+
+My uncle smiled imperceptibly; and, without answering in a direct manner,
+said:
+
+"The remainder is the will of Heaven."
+
+"You are heaven, and I have faith in your kindness. Oh! uncle, see that
+Babet does not forget me. I will work for her."
+
+Then my uncle Lazare again pointed out to me the valley which the warm
+golden light was overspreading more and more.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"When I perceived her skirts in the limpid night, I advanced noiselessly.
+Then I murmured in a low voice:
+
+"Babet, Babet, I am here."
+
+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.
+
+"It's you, Monsieur Jean," she said to me. "What are you doing there? What
+do you want?"
+
+I was beside her and took her hand.
+
+"You love me fondly, do you not?"
+
+"I! who told you that?"
+
+"My uncle Lazare."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"No, no," I continued, "I want you to know that I am going away to-morrow,
+and to promise to love me always."
+
+"You are leaving to-morrow!"
+
+Oh! that sweet cry, and how tenderly Babet uttered it! I seem still to
+hear her apprehensive voice full of affliction and love.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+On separating we forgot to kiss each other.
+
+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.
+
+II
+
+SUMMER
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+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.
+
+As we were about to move, the sergeant-major came running along and
+shouting:
+
+"A letter for Sergeant Gourdon!"
+
+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.
+
+"Forward, march!" shouted the major.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Forward, forward!" shouted the chiefs.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Forward, forward!"
+
+The rear ranks, which they pushed on, compelled us to march. Then, closing
+our eyes, we made a fresh dash and entered the smoke.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Close the ranks, close the ranks!"
+
+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.
+
+"Close the ranks, close the ranks!" the colonel coldly repeated.
+
+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.
+
+The soldiers yelled, the chiefs themselves were moved.
+
+"With the bayonet, with the bayonet!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Uncle Lazare wrote to me:
+
+"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.
+
+"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----"
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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----"
+
+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.
+
+My uncle Lazare added:
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"Babet is a fine, tall girl now. She will, assist you in your work----"
+
+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.
+
+I finished reading my uncle Lazare's letter.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"It's you, Gourdon," he said to me at last, in a feeble voice; "is the
+battle won?"
+
+"I think so, colonel," I answered him.
+
+There was a moment of silence. Then, opening his eyes and looking at me,
+he inquired--
+
+"Where are you wounded?"
+
+"In the shoulder--and you, colonel?"
+
+"My elbow must be smashed. I remember; it was the same bullet that
+arranged us both like this, my boy."
+
+He made an effort to sit up.
+
+"But come," he said with sudden gaiety, "we are not going to sleep here?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I have had enough of it," said the colonel, lying down; "they may come
+and fetch me if they will. Let us sleep."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"A shell did that for you," he said; "an inch lower and your shoulder
+would have been carried away. The flesh, only, has suffered."
+
+And when I asked the assistant, who was dressing my wound, whether it was
+serious, he answered me with a laugh:
+
+"Serious! you will have to keep to your bed for three weeks, and make new
+blood."
+
+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.
+
+III
+
+AUTUMN
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+I seated myself at the edge of the bed, and asked her in a low voice:
+
+"Is it for to-day?"
+
+"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."
+
+I acted very stupidly.
+
+"I know the child better than you do," I said. "I see it every night. It's
+a girl----"
+
+And as Babet turned her face to the wall, ready to cry, I realised how
+foolish I had been, and hastened to add:
+
+"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."
+
+Babet kissed me for that pleasing remark.
+
+"Go and look after the vintage," she continued, "I feel calm this
+morning."
+
+"You will send for me if anything happens?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I am very tired: I shall go to sleep again. You'll not be angry
+with me for my laziness?"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Well, is it for to-day?"
+
+He had been putting this question to me regularly every morning for the
+past month.
+
+"It appears not," I answered him. "Will you come with me and see them
+picking the grapes?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+My uncle Lazare remained silent; then, turning towards me, said:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Heh! Father André," he said, "are the grapes thoroughly ripe? Will the
+wine be good this year?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Uncle, uncle," I shouted, "look how Marguerite's running. I think it must
+be for to-day."
+
+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.
+
+"Speak!" I said to her. "What has happened?"
+
+She heaved a heavy sigh, agitated her hands, and finally was able to
+pronounce this single word:
+
+"Madame----"
+
+I waited for no more.
+
+"Come! come quick, uncle Lazare! Ah! my poor dear Babet!"
+
+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.
+
+"Heh! Jean, the deuce!" he shouted, "wait for me. I don't want to be the
+last."
+
+But I no longer heard Uncle Lazare, and continued running.
+
+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.
+
+"You can't come in," she added. "Go and wait in the courtyard."
+
+And as I did not move, she continued: "All is going on very well. I will
+call you."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Hallo! where is the child?" he inquired of me.
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Come," she said to me.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"It's a boy," she murmured in a weak voice, but with an air of triumph.
+
+Those were the first words she uttered after the terrible shock she had
+undergone.
+
+"I knew it would be a boy," she continued, "I saw the child every night.
+Give him me, put him beside me."
+
+I turned round and saw the midwife and my uncle quarrelling.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Uncle Lazare," said Babet, "what name will you give the child?"
+
+"Jean's mother was named Jacqueline," answered my uncle. "I shall call the
+child Jacques."
+
+"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?"
+
+I began to laugh.
+
+"We shall have time to think of that," I said.
+
+"But no," continued Babet almost angry, "he will grow rapidly. See how
+strong he is. He already speaks with his eyes."
+
+My uncle Lazare was exactly of my wife's opinion. He answered in a very
+grave tone:
+
+"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----"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+I felt very anxious.
+
+"Are you in pain, uncle Lazare?" I inquired of him, "What is the matter
+with you? Answer, for mercy's sake."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+Babet raised herself in alarm, with her eyes on uncle Lazare. I knelt down
+before him, watching him anxiously. He smiled.
+
+"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."
+
+And as we understood, we burst out into tears. Uncle Lazare continued,
+without ceasing to watch the sky:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+We restrained our tears, not wishing to trouble this saintly death. Babet
+prayed in an undertone. The child continued uttering smothered cries.
+
+My uncle Lazare heard its wail in the dreaminess of his agony. He
+endeavoured to turn towards Babet, and, still smiling, said:
+
+"I have seen the child and die very happy."
+
+Then he gazed at the pale sky and yellow fields, and, throwing back his
+head, heaved a gentle sigh.
+
+No tremor agitated uncle Lazare's body; he died as one falls asleep.
+
+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.
+
+Such was my autumn day, which gave me a son, and carried off my uncle
+Lazare in the peacefulness of the twilight.
+
+IV
+
+WINTER
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+I laughed and answered:
+
+"It's little Marie, who has just been dressed by her mamma."
+
+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.
+
+Marie was still seated on my shoulders.
+
+"Mamma, mamma," she cried, "come and look; I'm playing at horses."
+
+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.
+
+Our children brought back our youth.
+
+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.
+
+"Bah!" said Jacques, "this tepid rainy weather is better than intense cold
+that would freeze our vines and olives."
+
+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.
+
+"This weather quite upsets one," I said to cheer us all up.
+
+"Yes, yes, it's the weather," Jacques hastened to add. "I'll put some vine
+branches on the fire."
+
+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.
+
+"Are you coming, father?" Jacques inquired of me. "We are going to look at
+the cellars and lofts."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+A wave of muddy water burst into the room.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Quick, quick, let us go up into the bedrooms," I cried.
+
+And I obliged Jacques to pass before me. I left the ground-floor the last.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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----"
+
+But the Durance stifled my cries with its thundering voice; and, broad and
+indifferent, expanded and drove its flood onward with tranquil obstinacy.
+
+I turned back to the room and went and kissed Babet, who was weeping.
+Little Marie was smiling in her sleep.
+
+"Don't be afraid," I said to my wife. "The water cannot always rise. It
+will certainly go down. There is no danger."
+
+"No, there is no danger," Jacques repeated feverishly. "The house is
+solid."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Babet clasped him in her arms. She could sob now; and she relieved
+herself.
+
+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.
+
+He took me apart and brought me back to the window.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Jacques had returned to the window. And, suddenly, he exclaimed:
+
+"Father, we are saved!--Come and see."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+He looked around him and seized two poles drifting along in the current,
+as they passed by.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Babet had stood upright. She held out little Marie to me:
+
+"Take the child," she exclaimed. "Leave me alone, leave me alone!"
+
+Jacques had already caught Babet in his arms. In a loud voice he said:
+
+"Father, save the little one--I will save mother."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+BARON DE TRENCK
+
+BY CLEMENCE ROBERT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"I do not need your advice, major," the baron observed, with sovereign
+disdain.
+
+"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."
+
+"But, great heavens! when I am deprived of my liberty without cause, have
+I not the right to endeavor to regain it?"
+
+"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."
+
+"My crime!" Trenck exclaimed, trembling with anger.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Every one knows," retorted Boo, "that you entered into relations with the
+enemy."
+
+"I? Great God!"
+
+"Do you not consider the Pandours, then, as such?"
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+The major turned his head aside with an air of indifference.
+
+"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."
+
+Trenck, though quivering with blind rage, continued to maintain his former
+attitude, his features composed, his eyes fixed upon the major's sword.
+
+"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."
+
+"It is most unfortunate, then," said the major, "that no one could give
+you that information."
+
+"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."
+
+"Ah!" said Doo, assuming the self-satisfied manner of a jailer; "it would
+not be proper for me to answer that."
+
+"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."
+
+"And you want me to tell you----"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Trenck, with a shudder; "yes, once again I ask you."
+
+Doo smiled maliciously as he answered:
+
+"The end of your captivity? Why, a traitor can scarcely hope for release!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Once beyond the walls of the prison, with the woods close by, it seemed as
+if Trenck's escape was assured beyond doubt.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Bruised and bleeding he was borne back to his cell.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The two exchanged from time to time glances of insolence; for the rest,
+they remained silently smoking, side by side.
+
+Trenck was the first to break the silence, for prisoners grasp every
+opportunity for conversation, and at any price.
+
+"It appears to me your hand is wounded, lieutenant," Trenck said. "Have
+you found another opportunity to cross swords?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Such a delicate youth, and so mild-mannered! Are you not ashamed?"
+
+"What could I do? There was no one else at hand."
+
+"Nevertheless he seems to have wounded you?"
+
+"Yes, accidentally though, without knowing what he did."
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"You, the best swordsman!" exclaimed Trenck, concluding his remark with an
+ironical puff of smoke.
+
+"I flatter myself that such is the case," retorted Bach, emitting in turn
+a great cloud of tobacco-smoke.
+
+"If I were free," said Trenck, "I might, perhaps, prove to you in short
+order that such is not the case."
+
+"Do you claim to be my master at that art?"
+
+"I flatter myself that such is the case."
+
+"That we shall soon see," cried Bach, flushing with rage.
+
+"How can we? I am disarmed and a prisoner."
+
+"Ah, yes, you make your claim out of sheer boastfulness, because you think
+we cannot put it to the test!"
+
+"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!"
+
+"Well, I am unwilling to wait for that. We will fight here, Baron Trenck."
+
+"In this room?"
+
+"After your assertion, I must either humble your arrogance or lose my
+reputation."
+
+"I shall be glad to know how you propose to do so?"
+
+"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."
+
+"I should ask nothing better if it were not impossible."
+
+"Impossible! You shall see if it be."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Touché!" he cried.
+
+"Heavens! It is true!" growled Bach. "But I'll have my revenge!"
+
+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.
+
+"Now," he said to Trenck, "it is for you to show what you can do with good
+steel!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Defend yourself, braggart!" shouted Bach. "Show your skill instead of
+talking about it."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"You are my master!"
+
+Then, drawing away from the prisoner, he contemplated him with the same
+enthusiasm, but more reflectively, and observed:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"Here, baron!" said the lieutenant. "You shall regain your freedom as
+surely as my name is Bach."
+
+"Oh, I believe in you, my worthy friend," cried Trenck; "you will keep
+your word."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+In the morning the four Prussians, the carriage, the driver, and the
+horses set forth and soon disappeared in the distance.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+They arrived at nightfall at their destination, however, without further
+hindrance.
+
+The next day they set out for Parsemachi, in Bohemia.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Now God forgive me!" exclaimed Schell finally, "but that is the infernal
+brown traveling carriage from the inn!"
+
+"May the devil take me!" rejoined Trenck, "if I delay or flee a step from
+those miserable rascals."
+
+And they strode sturdily onward.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"Go to the devil, miserable scoundrels that you are, and may you remain
+there!"
+
+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.
+
+When they were almost within reaching distance of their prey they raised
+their pistols and shouted:
+
+"Surrender, rascals, or you are dead men!"
+
+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.
+
+At the same moment Schell fired, but his assailants returned the shot and
+wounded him.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Courage, Schell!" Trenck shouted. "I am coming!"
+
+At the sound of his friend's voice Schell felt himself saved. By a supreme
+effort he succeeded in releasing himself from his captors.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+"It is nothing," the lieutenant replied carelessly; "merely a wound in the
+throat, and, I think, another in the head."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One morning, while at his toilet, Trenck's servant, Karl, who was devoted
+to him body and soul, observed:
+
+"Lieutenant Henry will enjoy himself thoroughly on your excursion
+to-morrow."
+
+"Why do you say that, Karl?" asked the baron.
+
+"Because he has planned to take your honor to Langführ at ten o'clock."
+
+"At ten or eleven--the hour is not of importance."
+
+"No! You must be there on the stroke of ten by the village clock. Langführ
+is on the Prussian border and under Prussian rule."
+
+"Prussia!" exclaimed Trenck, shaking his head, which Karl had not finished
+powdering. "Are you quite sure?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Finish dressing my hair, Karl," said Trenck, recovering his wonted
+impassibility.
+
+"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."
+
+"Is that all, Karl?"
+
+"No. There will be two soldiers detailed especially for my benefit, so
+that I can't get away to give the alarm."
+
+"Well, is that all!"
+
+"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."
+
+"Famously planned!"
+
+"M. Reimer, the Prussian resident here, outlined the plot, and appointed
+Lieutenant Henry to carry it out."
+
+"Afterward, Karl?"
+
+"That's all--this time--and it's enough!"
+
+"Yes, but I regret that it should end thus, for your account has greatly
+interested me."
+
+"Your honor may take it that all I have said is absolutely correct."
+
+"But when did you obtain this information?"
+
+"Oh, just now!"
+
+"And from whom?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Is his information reliable?"
+
+"Of course! As no one suspected him, the whole matter was discussed freely
+before him."
+
+"And he betrayed the secret?"
+
+"Yes, because he greatly admires your honor and wasn't willing to see you
+treated so."
+
+"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."
+
+"Your honor will go to Langführ, then!"
+
+"Certainly, Karl. We will go together, and you shall see if I misled you
+when I promised you a delightful morning."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Henry accepted his attentions with his accustomed dreamy manner.
+
+The next morning, at half past nine, when the lieutenant arrived, he found
+Trenck awaiting him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Lieutenant Henry, pausing near a clump of trees some two hundred paces
+from the tavern, said:
+
+"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."
+
+Trenck assented readily. He sprang from his horse and tossed his bridle to
+his valet and Henry did the same.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+As soon as the officers were within ear-shot, he called out:
+
+"Come on, Baron de Trenck, breakfast is ready."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Reimer, the resident, realizing that Trenck knew of the plot, saw that the
+time had come to resort to armed intervention.
+
+"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.
+
+"Soldiers, in the name of Russia!" Trenck shouted, brandishing his sword,
+"kill these brigands who are violating the rights of the country."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+While his men proceeded to execute his orders, Trenck drew his sword and
+turned to Lieutenant Henry.
+
+"And now, for our affair, lieutenant!" he exclaimed.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Rogue, go tell your fellows how Trenck deals with traitors!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+In this affair, as throughout his entire career, Trenck was simply
+faithful to the rule which he had adopted to guide him through life:
+
+"Always face danger rather than avoid it."
+
+
+
+THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA
+
+BY HENRY MURGER
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+"Very well," said Marcel; "no more than I expected. Next year I shall send
+it back under the title of 'Passage des Panoramas.'"
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+Marcel continued his imprecations, which Schaunard continued to set to
+music.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"Good evening, gentlemen," said the Jew; "how are you?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"Now," said Rodolphe, in a low tone, to Marcel, "let us hear the song. The
+accompaniment sounds all right."
+
+"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."
+
+"Father Medicis," said Marcel, who was on coals of impatience, "in the
+name of fifty per cent, your revered patron saint, be brief."
+
+"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.'"
+
+"Money down?" asked Marcel.
+
+"Money down," answered the Jew, sounding forth the full orchestra of his
+pockets.
+
+"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."
+
+The Jew laid Upon the table fifty crowns in bright new silver.
+
+"Keep them going," said Marcel; "that is a good beginning."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"Do I hear any one object?" howled Colline, striking three blows of his
+fist upon the table. "It is a bargain."
+
+"Come on," said Marcel. "I agree."
+
+"I will send for the picture to-morrow," said the Jew. "Come, gentlemen,
+let us start. Your places are all set."
+
+The four friends descended the stairs, singing the chorus from "The
+Huguenots," "to the table, to the table."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"
+
+
+
+THE WOMAN AND THE CAT
+
+BY MARCEL PREVOST
+
+
+"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."
+
+A young lady present interrupted him:
+
+"Doctor, you are evidently dying to tell us a story. Come now, begin!"
+
+The doctor bowed.
+
+"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:
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I thought to myself, 'Aha! I have a neighbor."
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"'It is you,' she cried out; 'it is you!'
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Why, it's easy enough to guess," interrupted the young lady who had
+spoken at the beginning of his story.
+
+"Linda and the cat were the same thing."
+
+Tribourdeaux smiled.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"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."
+
+Some one here interrupted, breaking in upon the profound silence in which
+we had been listening.
+
+"I can guess the end. Linda disappeared at the same time as the cat."
+
+"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."
+
+For several moments the silence of the company was unbroken. Finally a
+gentleman, wishing to relieve the tension, cried out:
+
+"Come now, doctor, confess that this is really all fiction; that you
+merely want to prevent these ladies from getting any sleep to-night."
+
+Tribourdeaux bowed stiffly, his face unsmiling and a little pale.
+
+"You may take it as you will," he said.
+
+
+
+GIL BLAS AND DR. SANGRADO
+
+BY ALAIN RENE LE SAGE
+
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"Sir," replied I, "if that is all you require, I am your man."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+I avowed myself a young practitioner, acting as yet under direction of Dr.
+Sangrado.
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"I am of opinion," replied I, "that he should be bled once a day, and
+drink as much warm water as he can swallow."
+
+At these words, our diminutive doctor said to me, with a malicious simper,
+"And so you think such a course will save the patient?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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!"
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+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--
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+A FIGHT WITH A CANNON
+
+BY VICTOR HUGO
+
+
+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.
+
+The captain and lieutenant rushed toward the gun-deck but could not get
+down. All the gunners were pouring up in dismay.
+
+Something terrible had just happened.
+
+One of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four pounder, had broken
+loose.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+To form an idea of this strange sliding, let one imagine a drop of water
+running over a glass.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+It was their passenger, the peasant, the man of whom they had just been
+speaking a moment before.
+
+Reaching the foot of the companion-way, he stopped.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Boisberthelot said to La Vieuville:
+
+"Do you believe in God, chevalier?"
+
+La Vieuville replied:
+
+"Yes--no. Sometimes."
+
+"During a tempest?"
+
+"Yes, and in moments like this."
+
+"God alone can save us from this," said Boisberthelot.
+
+Everybody was silent, letting the carronade continue its horrible din.
+
+Outside, the waves beating against the ship responded with their blows to
+the shocks of the cannon. It was like two hammers alternating.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He waited for the cannon to pass by him.
+
+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.
+
+"Come!" he said. Perhaps he loved it.
+
+He seemed to wish it to come to him.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He might be crushed himself by the cannon. He did not stir.
+
+Beneath them the sea blindly directed the contest.
+
+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.
+
+It seemed to listen.
+
+Suddenly it leaped toward him. The man dodged the blow.
+
+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.
+
+All this was taking place in semi-darkness. It was like the shadowy vision
+of a miracle.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+It was ended. The man had conquered. The ant had control over the
+mastodon; the pygmy had taken the thunderbolt prisoner.
+
+The mariners and sailors clapped their hands.
+
+The whole crew rushed forward with cables and chains, and in an instant
+the cannon was secured.
+
+The gunner saluted the passenger.
+
+"Sir," he said, "you have saved my life."
+
+The old man had resumed his impassive attitude, and made no reply.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He stood with his back against the mainmast.
+
+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.
+
+The Count de Boisberthelot approached the passenger.
+
+Behind the captain walked a man, haggard, out of breath, his dress
+disordered, but still with a look of satisfaction on his face.
+
+It was the gunner who had just shown himself so skilful in subduing
+monsters, and who had gained the mastery over the cannon.
+
+The count gave the military salute to the old man in peasant's dress, and
+said to him:
+
+"General, there is the man."
+
+The gunner remained standing, with downcast eyes, in military attitude.
+
+The Count de Boisberthelot continued:
+
+"General, in consideration of what this man has done, do you not think
+there is something due him from his commander?"
+
+"I think so," said the old man.
+
+"Please give your orders," replied Boisberthelot.
+
+"It is for you to give them, you are the captain."
+
+"But you are the general," replied Boisberthelot.
+
+The old man looked at the gunner.
+
+"Come forward," he said.
+
+The gunner approached.
+
+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.
+
+"Hurrah!" cried the sailors.
+
+The mariners presented arms.
+
+And the old passenger, pointing to the dazzled gunner, added:
+
+"Now, have this man shot."
+
+Dismay succeeded the cheering.
+
+Then in the midst of the death-like stillness, the old man raised his
+voice and said:
+
+"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."
+
+These words fell one after another, slowly, solemnly, in a sort of
+inexorable metre, like the blows of an axe upon an oak.
+
+And the man, looking at the soldiers, added:
+
+"Let it be done."
+
+The man on whose jacket hung the shining cross of Saint-Louis bowed his
+head.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The old passenger, still leaning against the mainmast, had crossed his
+arms, and was buried in thought.
+
+Boisberthelot pointed to him with the forefinger of his left hand, and
+said to La Vieuville in a low voice:
+
+"La Vendée has a head."
+
+
+
+TONTON
+
+BY A. CHENEVIERE
+
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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....
+
+"My story is sad, is it not? Ah, well, it is still the sweetest of my
+African memories. War is beautiful! Eh?"
+
+And Robert shrugged his shoulders....
+
+
+
+THE LAST LESSON
+
+BY ALPHONSE DAUDET
+
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"What can be the matter now?"
+
+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:
+
+"Don't go so fast, bub; you'll get to your school in plenty of time!"
+
+I thought he was making fun of me, and reached M. Hamel's little garden
+all out of breath.
+
+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.
+
+But nothing happened, M. Hamel saw me and said very kindly:
+
+"Go to your place quickly, little Franz. We were beginning without you."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+What a thunder-clap these words were to me!
+
+Oh, the wretches; that was what they had put up at the town-hall!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Will they make them sing in German, even the pigeons?"
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+"My friends," said he, "I--I--" But something choked him. He could not go
+on.
+
+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:
+
+"Vive La France!"
+
+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."
+
+
+
+CROISILLES
+
+BY ALFRED DE MUSSET
+
+
+I
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+"He is gone," answered Jean, "but indeed not without saying good-bye to
+you."
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+
+II
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+"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."
+
+"And where are you going?"
+
+"To write to my father and say good-bye to him."
+
+"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."
+
+"Yes, sir; at least I think so, if my courage does not forsake me."
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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?"
+
+"In my father's shop, and in this house, when I brought jewelry for
+Mademoiselle Julie."
+
+"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?"
+
+"No, I am completely ignorant of it, unless it is to be as rich as she."
+
+"Something more is necessary, my boy; you must have a name."
+
+"Well! my name is Croisilles."
+
+"Your name is Croisilles, poor wretch! Do you call that a name?"
+
+"Upon my soul and conscience, sir, it seems to me to be as good a name as
+Godeau."
+
+"You are very impertinent, sir, and you shall rue it."
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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--"
+
+"That is what I am going to do now. I am your very humble servant."
+
+"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."
+
+"Much obliged; I am not hungry, and I have no use for your money."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+III
+
+Scarcely had he taken a few steps in the street, when he saw his faithful
+friend Jean running towards him with a joyful face.
+
+"What has happened?" he asked; "have you news to tell me?"
+
+"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."
+
+"What course do you wish me to take?"
+
+"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."
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+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:
+
+"Sir, do you still like roast partridges?"
+
+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.
+
+"And why do you ask me that?" said he.
+
+"My wife," replied Jean, "is cooking me some for dinner, sir, and if by
+chance you still liked them--"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+Saying this, he laid upon the mantel four well-filled purses, which he
+emptied, each containing fifty louis.
+
+"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?"
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+IV
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+His letter possessed, naturally, neither order nor reason. It read
+somewhat as follows:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"No, sir, I assure you I am not proud. If you had only a hundred thousand
+crowns, I would willingly marry you."
+
+Such was the reply which the maid at once took to Croisilles, who gave her
+another louis for her trouble.
+
+
+V
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"This house is for sale, sir, is it not? Are you the owner of it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And how much is it worth?"
+
+"Thirty thousand francs, I believe; at least I have heard my father say
+so."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+At this rather strange speech the young man burst out laughing.
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The greatest danger incurred by those who are habitually but half crazy,
+is that of becoming, at times, altogether so.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+VI
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Poor fellow! He has ruined himself for me!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+She began by inquiring whether Croisilles had any relatives or friends;
+the maid was sent out in all directions to find out.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+The old lady, during this discourse, had been in turn surprised, anxious,
+touched, and delighted. The last words persuaded her.
+
+"Yes, my child," she repeated several times, "I know what it is,--I know
+what it is."
+
+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.
+
+A treaty was at once concluded; a warm kiss sealed it in advance, and the
+necessary and confidential consultation followed without further trouble.
+
+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.
+
+"If you could imagine," said she, "a means of flattering this weakness,
+you will have won our cause."
+
+The good lady pondered deeply, finished her toilet without Another word,
+clasped the hands of her future niece, and entered the carriage.
+
+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:
+
+"Announce the dowager Baroness de Croisilles."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+THE VASE OF CLAY
+
+BY JEAN AICARD
+
+
+I
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Jean observed all these things, and admired them, and blessed his life.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then the young girl smiled.
+
+He told it her again, and she made a face at him.
+
+He sang her the same song, and she married a sailor who carried her far
+away beyond the sea.
+
+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.
+
+
+II
+
+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.
+
+The earth in his field was, indeed, excellent clay.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Now more than ever the beautiful girls visited Jean's field.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+These shades of the clay reminded him of the loveliest things which had
+gladdened his eyes: plants, flowers, ocean, sky.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The creative potter loved the clay.
+
+
+III
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+He was then in the full strength and vigor of manhood.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The water in the well alone remained the same, cold and plenteous, and
+that sufficed to draw about Jean eternal youth and eternal gaiety.
+
+Only youth had grown mocking for Jean. For him gaiety had now become
+scoffing.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+Jean said formerly: "There are three things: roses, raspberries, lips."
+
+All the three have forsaken him.
+
+The lips of the young girls, and even those of the children, have become
+scoffing.
+
+"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!
+
+"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!"
+
+Jean silently shakes his head, and only replies to all these railleries by
+a kindly smile.
+
+He is good to animals, and he shares his dry bread with the poor.
+
+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.
+
+
+IV
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+All through the night Jean has kept up and carefully regulated the
+furnace-fire, that artisan of delicate gradations of color.
+
+At dawn the work must be finished.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Oh, miracle of art, in which life is thus epitomized to make joy eternal!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10577 ***