initial commit of ebook 38142HEADmain

1 files changed, 16668 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/38142-8.txt b/38142-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..86ca627
--- /dev/null
+++ b/38142-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,16668 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence, by 
+Eugène Sue
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence
+
+Author: Eugène Sue
+
+Release Date: November 26, 2011 [EBook #38142]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS: ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: image of the book's cover]
+
+
+THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS
+
+ENVY AND INDOLENCE
+
+[Illustration: frontispiece]
+
+
+
+
+The Dagobert Edition
+
+THE SEVEN
+CARDINAL SINS
+
+_In Five Volumes_
+
+By
+Eugene Sue
+
+INDOLENCE--ENVY
+
+Illustrated
+
+[Illustration: colophon]
+
+New York and Boston
+H. M. Caldwell Company
+Publishers
+
+_Copyright, 1899_
+BY FRANCIS A. NICCOLLS & CO.
+
+
+
+
+FREDERICK BASTIEN
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+    ENVY.
+
+                                              PAGE
+
+"'WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?'"         _Frontispiece_
+
+"THE PROCESSION BEGAN"                          70
+
+"HE BROUGHT HIS GUN TO HIS SHOULDER"           118
+
+"SEIZING THE PROW OF THE LITTLE BOAT"          230
+
+"SHE SAW HER HUSBAND"                          321
+
+
+    INDOLENCE.
+
+"'HERE IS THE LETTER; READ IT, MONSIEUR'"      292
+
+"FLORENCE WAS SLUMBERING IN GRACEFUL ABANDON"  370
+
+
+
+
+ENVY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+In the year 1828 any tourist who was on his way from Blois to the little
+town of Pont Brillant to visit--as travellers seldom fail to do--the
+famous castle of that name, the magnificent feudal abode of the
+Marquises Pont Brillant, would have been obliged to pass a farmhouse
+standing near the edge of the road, about two miles from the château.
+
+If this lonely dwelling attracted the attention of the traveller, he
+would have been almost certain to have regarded it with mingled
+melancholy and disgust as one of the too numerous specimens of hideous
+rural architecture in France, even when these habitations belong to
+persons possessed of a competence. This establishment consisted of a
+large barn and storehouse, with two long wings in the rear. The interior
+of the sort of parallelogram thus formed served as a courtyard, and was
+filled with piles of manure rotting in pools of stagnant water, for cow,
+horse, and sheep stables all opened into this enclosure, where all sorts
+of domestic animals, from poultry to hogs, were scratching and rooting.
+
+One of the wings in the rear served as the abode of the family. It was a
+story and a half high, and had no outlook save this loathsome courtyard,
+with the dirty, worm-eaten doors of the cow-stable for a horizon. On
+the other side of the structure, where no window pierced the wall, stood
+a superb grove of century-old oaks, a couple of acres in extent, through
+which flowed a beautiful stream that served as an outlet for several
+distant lakes. But this grove, in spite of its beauty, had become
+well-nigh a desert on account of the large amount of gravel that had
+been deposited there, and the thick growth of rushes and thistles that
+covered it; besides, the stream, for want of cleaning out and of a
+sufficient fall, was becoming turbid and stagnant.
+
+But if this same tourist had passed this same farmhouse one year
+afterward, he would have been struck by the sudden metamorphosis that
+the place had undergone, though it still belonged to the same owner. A
+beautiful lawn, close and fine as velvet, and ornamented with big clumps
+of rose-bushes, had taken the place of the dirty manure-strewn
+courtyard. New doors had been cut on the other side of the horse and cow
+stables; the old doors had been walled up, and the house itself, as well
+as the big barn at the foot of the courtyard, had been whitewashed and
+covered with a green trellis up which vigorous shoots of honeysuckle,
+clematis, and woodbine were already climbing.
+
+The wing in which the family lived had been surrounded with flowering
+plants and shrubbery. A gravel path led up to the main doorway, which
+was now shaded by a broad, rustic porch with a thatched roof in which
+big clumps of houseleek and dwarf iris were growing. This rustic porch,
+overhung with luxuriant vines, evidently served as the family
+sitting-room. The window-frames, which were painted a dark green,
+contrasted strikingly with the dazzling whiteness of the curtains and
+the clearness of the window-panes, and on each sill was a small
+jardinière made of silver birch bark, and filled with freshly gathered
+flowers. A light fence, half concealed by roses, lilacs, and acacias,
+had been run from one wing of the establishment to the other, parallel
+with the barn, thus enclosing this charming garden. The grove had
+undergone a no less complete transformation. A rich carpet of velvety
+turf, cut with winding walks of shining yellow sand, had superseded the
+rushes and thistles; the formerly sluggish stream, turned into a new bed
+and checked in the middle of its course by a pile of large, moss-covered
+rocks three or four feet high, plunged from the height in a little
+bubbling, dancing waterfall, then continued its clear and rapid course
+on a level with its grassy borders.
+
+A few beds of scarlet geraniums, whose brilliant hues contrasted vividly
+with the rich, green turf, brightened this charming spot, in which the
+few bright sunbeams that forced their way through dense foliage made a
+bewitching play of light and shade, especially in the vista through
+which one could see in the distance the forest of Pont Brillant,
+dominated by its ancient castle.
+
+The details of this complete transformation, effected in so short a time
+by such simple and inexpensive means, seem puerile, perhaps, but are
+really highly significant as the expression of one of the thousand
+different phases of maternal love. Yes, a young woman sixteen years of
+age, married when only a little over fifteen, exiled here in this
+solitude, had thus metamorphosed it.
+
+It was the desire to surround her expected child with bright and
+beautiful objects here in this lonely spot where he was to live, that
+had thus developed the young mother's taste, and each pleasing
+innovation which she had effected in this gloomy, unattractive place,
+had been planned merely with the purpose of providing a suitable setting
+for this dear little eagerly expected child.
+
+On the greensward in the carefully enclosed courtyard the child could
+play as an infant. The porch would afford a healthful shelter in case it
+rained or the sun was too hot. Later, when he outgrew his babyhood, he
+could play and run about in the shady grove, under his mother's
+watchful eye, and amuse himself by listening to the soft murmur of the
+waterfall, or by watching it dance and sparkle along over the mossy
+rocks. The limpid stream, kept at a uniform depth of barely two feet
+now, held no dangers for the child, who, on the contrary, as soon as the
+warm summer days came, could bathe, whenever the desire seized him, in
+the crystal-clear water that filtered through a bed of fine gravel.
+
+In this, as in many other details, as we shall see by and by, a sort of
+inspiration seemed to have guided this young mother in her plan of
+changing this untidy, ugly farmhouse into a cheerful and attractive
+home.
+
+At the date at which this story begins,--the last of the month of June,
+1845,--the young mother had been residing in this farmhouse for
+seventeen years. The shrubs in the courtyard had become trees; the
+buildings were almost completely hidden under a luxuriant mantle of
+flowering vines, while even in winter the walls and porch were thickly
+covered with ivy; while in the adjoining grove the melancholy murmur of
+the little cascade and the stream were still heard. The glass door of a
+large room which served at the same time as a parlour for the mother and
+a schoolroom for her son, now sixteen years of age, opened out upon this
+grove. This room likewise served as a sort of museum--one might be
+disposed to smile at this rather pretentious word, so we will say
+instead a maternal shrine or reliquary, for a large but inexpensive
+cabinet contained a host of articles which the fond mother had carefully
+preserved as precious mementoes of different epochs in her son's life.
+
+Everything bore a date, from the infant's rattle to the crown of oak
+leaves which the youth had won at a competitive examination in the
+neighbouring town of Pont Brillant, where the proud mother had sent her
+son to test his powers. There, too, everything had its significance,
+from the little broken toy gun to the emblem of white satin fringed with
+gold, which neophytes wear so proudly at their first communion.
+
+These relics were puerile, even ridiculous perhaps, and yet, when we
+remember that all the incidents of her son's life with which these
+articles were associated had been important, touching, or deeply solemn
+events to this young mother living in complete solitude and idolising
+her son, we can forgive this worship of the past and also understand the
+feeling that had prompted her to place among these relics a small
+porcelain lamp, by the subdued light of which the mother had watched
+over her son during a long and dangerous illness from which his life had
+been saved by a modest but clever physician of Pont Brillant.
+
+It is almost needless to say, too, that the walls of the room were
+ornamented with frames containing here a page of infantile, almost
+unformed handwriting, there a couple of verses which the youth had
+composed for his mother's birthday the year before. Besides there were
+the inevitable heads of Andromache and of Niobe, upon which the
+inexperienced crayon of the beginner usually bestows such drawn mouths
+and squinting eyes, apparently gazing in a sort of sullen surprise at a
+pretty water-colour representing a scene on the banks of the Loire;
+while the lad's first books were no less carefully preserved by the
+mother in a bookcase containing some admirably chosen works on history,
+geography, travel, and literature. A piano, a music-rack, and a
+drawing-table completed the modest furnishings of the room.
+
+Late in the month of June, Marie Bastien--for that was the name of this
+young mother--found herself in this room with her son. It was nearly
+five o'clock in the afternoon, and the golden rays of the declining sun,
+though obstructed to some extent by the slats of the Venetian blinds,
+were, nevertheless, playing a lively game of hide-and-seek, now with the
+dark woodwork, now with the big bouquets of fresh flowers in the china
+vases on the mantel.
+
+A dozen or more superb half-open roses in a tall glass vase diffused a
+delightful perfume through the room, and brightened the table covered
+with books and papers, on either side of which the mother and son were
+busily writing.
+
+Madame Bastien, though she was thirty-one years of age, did not look a
+day over twenty, so radiant was her enchanting face with youthful, we
+might almost say, virginal freshness, for the angelic beauty of this
+young woman seemed worthy to inspire the words so often addressed to the
+Virgin, "Hail, Mary, full of grace."
+
+Madame Bastien wore a simple dress of pale blue and white striped
+percaline; a broad pink ribbon encircled her slender, supple waist,
+which a man could have easily spanned with his two hands. Her pretty
+arms were bare, or rather only slightly veiled with long lace mitts
+which reached above her dimpled elbows. Her luxuriant chestnut hair,
+with frequent glints of gold entangled in its meshes, waved naturally
+all over her shapely head. It was worn low over her ears, thus framing
+the perfect oval of her face, the transparent whiteness of which was
+charmingly set off by the delicate rose tint of her cheeks. Her large
+eyes, of the deepest and tenderest blue, were fringed with long lashes,
+a deep brown like her beautifully arched eyebrows, while the rich coral
+of her lips, the brilliant whiteness of her teeth, and the firmness of
+her perfect arms were convincing proofs of a naturally pure, rich blood,
+preserved so by the regular habits of a quiet, chaste life, a life
+concentrated in a single passion, maternal love.
+
+Marie Bastien's physiognomy was singularly contradictory in expression,
+for if the shape of the forehead and the contour of the eyebrows
+indicated remarkable energy as well as uncommon strength of will
+combined with an unusual amount of intelligence, the expression of the
+eyes was one of ineffable kindness, and her smile full of sweetness and
+gaiety,--gaiety, as two entrancing little dimples, created by the
+frequency of her frank smile a little way from the velvety corners of
+her lips, indicated beyond a doubt. In fact this young mother fully
+equalled her son in joyous animation, and when the time for recreation
+came, the younger of the two was not always the most boisterous and gay
+and childish by any means, and certainly, seeing the two seated together
+writing, one would have taken them for brother and sister instead of
+mother and son.
+
+Frederick Bastien strongly resembled his mother, though his beauty was
+of a more pronounced and virile type. His skin was darker, and his hair
+a deeper brown than his mother's, and his jet black eyebrows imparted a
+wonderful charm to his large blue eyes, for Frederick had his mother's
+eyes and expression, as well as her straight nose, kindly smile, white
+teeth, and scarlet lips, upon which the down of puberty was already
+visible.
+
+Reared in the wholesome freedom and simplicity of rural life, Frederick,
+whose stature considerably exceeded that of his mother, was a model of
+health, youth, and grace, while one seldom saw a more intelligent,
+resolute, affectionate, and cheery face.
+
+It was easy to see that maternal pride had presided over the youth's
+toilet; though his attire was of the simplest, most inexpensive kind,
+yet the pretty cerise satin cravat was remarkably becoming to a person
+of his complexion, his shirt front was dazzling in its whiteness, there
+were large pearl buttons on his nankeen vest, and his hands, far from
+resembling the frightful paws of the average schoolboy, with dirty nails
+often bitten down to the quick, and grimy, ink-stained knuckles, were as
+well cared for as those of his young mother, and like hers were adorned
+with pink, beautifully kept nails of faultless colour. (Mothers of
+sixteen-year-old sons will understand and appreciate these apparently
+insignificant details.)
+
+As we have already remarked, Frederick and his mother, seated opposite
+each other at the same table, were working, or rather digging away hard,
+as school-boys say, each having a volume of "The Vicar of Wakefield" to
+the left of them, and in front of them a sheet of foolscap which was
+already nearly filled.
+
+"Pass me the dictionary, Frederick," said Madame Bastien, without
+raising her eyes, but extending her pretty hand to her son.
+
+"Oh, the dictionary," responded Frederick, in a tone of mocking
+compassion, "the idea of being obliged to depend upon a dictionary!"
+
+But he gave the book to his mother, not without kissing the pretty hand
+extended for it, however.
+
+Marie, still without taking her eyes from her book, smiled without
+replying, then, placing her ivory penholder between her little teeth,
+which made the penholder look almost yellow in comparison, began to turn
+the leaves of the dictionary.
+
+Profiting by this moment of inattention, Frederick rose from his chair,
+and placing his two hands upon the table, leaned over to see now far his
+mother had proceeded with her translation.
+
+"Ah, ah, Frederick, you are trying to copy," said Marie, gaily, dropping
+the dictionary and placing her hands on the paper as if to protect it
+from her son's eyes. "I have caught you this time."
+
+"No, nothing of the kind," replied Frederick, dropping into his chair
+again. "I only wanted to see if you were as far along as I am."
+
+"All I know is that I have finished," responded Madame Bastien, with a
+triumphant air.
+
+"What, already?" exclaimed Frederick, humbly.
+
+As he spoke, the tall clock in the corner, after an ominous creaking and
+groaning, began to strike five.
+
+"Good, it is time for recess!" exclaimed Marie, joyfully. "Do you hear,
+Frederick?"
+
+And springing up, the young woman ran to her son.
+
+"Give me ten minutes, and I will be done," pleaded Frederick, writing
+for dear life; "just ten minutes!"
+
+But with charming petulance the young mother placed a paper-weight on
+the unfinished translation, slammed her son's books together, took his
+pen out of his hand, and half led, half dragged him out into the grove.
+
+It must be admitted that Frederick offered no very determined resistance
+to his mother's despotic will, however.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Five minutes afterward an exciting game of shuttlecock was going on
+between Frederick and his mother.
+
+It was a charming picture upon which the few rays of sunshine that
+succeeded in making their way through the dense canopy of green shone,
+for every movement and attitude of the participants was instinct with
+agility and grace.
+
+Marie, her eyes gleaming with mischief, her red lips wreathed with a
+charming smile, the rose tint in her cheeks deepening, one shapely foot
+extended, but with her supple form thrown well back from her slim waist
+upward, met the shuttlecock with her racket, then sent it flying off in
+an entirely different direction from what Frederick had anticipated; but
+not in the least discomfited, the youth, throwing back the curling locks
+of brown hair from his brow by a sudden toss of the head, with a quick,
+lithe bound skilfully intercepted the winged messenger as it was about
+to touch the earth, and sent it flying back to his mother, who
+intercepted it in her turn, and with a no less adroit blow despatched it
+swiftly through space again. When, after describing its parabola, it
+made straight for Frederick's nose, whereupon the youth, in a violent
+effort to interpose his racket between the rapidly descending
+shuttlecock and his upturned face, lost his balance and fell headlong on
+the thick turf, after which the laughter and oft repeated bursts of
+hilarity on the part of the two players necessarily put an end to the
+game.
+
+After their mirth had partially subsided, the mother and son, with
+crimson cheeks, and eyes still swimming with the tears their merriment
+had evoked, walked to a rustic bench in front of the waterfall to rest.
+
+"Goodness, how absurd it is to laugh in this fashion!" exclaimed
+Frederick.
+
+"You must admit that it does one good, though. It may be absurd to laugh
+so, as you say, but it consoles one to feel that only happy people like
+ourselves can ever give way to such mad fits of merriment."
+
+"Yes, mother, you are right," said Frederick, resting his head on his
+mother's shoulder, "we are happy. As I sit here in the shade, this
+beautiful summer evening, with my head on your shoulder, gazing with
+half-closed eyes through the golden sunlight at our pretty home, while
+the soft murmur of the cascade fills the air, it seems to me it would be
+delightful to remain here just as we are for a hundred years."
+
+And Frederick settled his head still more comfortably on his mother's
+shoulder, as if he would indeed like to spend an eternity there. The
+young mother, taking care not to disturb Frederick, bent her head a
+little to one side in order to lay her cheek upon his, and taking one of
+his hands in hers, replied:
+
+"It is true that this corner of the earth has always been a sort of
+paradise for us, and but for the recollection of the month that you were
+so ill, I think we should find it difficult to recollect a single
+unhappy moment. Is that not so, Frederick?"
+
+"You have always spoiled me so."
+
+"M. Frederick doesn't know what he is talking about, evidently,"
+responded Madame Bastien, with an affectation of grave displeasure.
+"There is nothing more disagreeable, and above all more unhappy, than a
+spoiled child. I should like to know what idle fancies and caprices I
+have ever encouraged in you, monsieur. Mention one if you can."
+
+"I should think I could. In the first place you never give me the time
+to be bored, but take quite as much interest in my diversions and
+pleasures as I do. I really don't know how you manage it, but time
+passes so quickly in your company that I cannot believe that this is the
+last of June, and when the first of January comes, I know I shall say
+the same thing."
+
+"Oh, you needn't try to get out of answering my question by flattering
+me, monsieur. Just tell me when I ever spoiled you unduly, and if I am
+not, on the contrary, very severe and exacting, especially in relation
+to your hours of study?"
+
+"Ah, you do well to boast of being exacting in that particular. Don't
+you share my studies as well as my play, so study has always been as
+amusing as recreation to me? Consequently, I maintain that if I am
+happy, it is due to you. If I know anything, if I am of account, in
+short, it is all due to you and solely to you. Have I ever left you?
+Everything that is good in me, I owe to you; all that is bad, my
+obstinacy, for example--"
+
+"Yes, it is true that this dear little head has a will of its own," said
+Madame Bastien, interrupting him and kissing him on the forehead. "I
+don't know any one who has a stronger will than yours, but so long as
+you will to be the tenderest and best of sons, as you have up to the
+present time, why, I am not disposed to complain. Each day brings some
+fresh proof of the kindness and generosity of your heart, and if I
+needed any auxiliary to convince you, I should invoke the testimony of
+the friend I see coming over there," she added, pointing out some one to
+Frederick. "He knows you almost as well as I do, and you must admit that
+his sincerity is beyond all question."
+
+The newcomer to whom Madame Bastien had alluded, and who was now
+advancing through the grove, was about forty years of age, a small,
+delicate-looking man, very carelessly dressed. He was singularly ugly,
+too, but his ugliness was of the clever, good-humoured type. His name
+was Dufour; he practised medicine at Pont Brillant, and, by dint of
+skill and unremitting attention, he had cured Frederick of a serious
+illness the year before.
+
+"How do you do, my dear Madame Bastien?" he said, cheerfully, as he
+approached the pair. "How do you do, my boy?" he added, pressing
+Frederick's hand cordially.
+
+"Ah, doctor, you came just in time to get scolded," exclaimed Madame
+Bastien, with affectionate gaiety.
+
+"Scolded?"
+
+"Certainly. Isn't it more than a fortnight since you came to see us?"
+
+"Fie! fie!" cried M. Dufour, "you must be egotistical to demand a
+doctor's visits with health as flourishing as yours."
+
+"Fie!" retorted Madame Bastien, no less gaily, "and what right have you,
+pray, to so disdain the gratitude of those you have saved as to deprive
+them of the pleasure of saying to him often, very often,'Thank you, my
+preserver, thank you'?"
+
+"Yes, my mother is right, M. Dufour," added Frederick. "You think
+because you have restored me to life that all is over between us. How
+ungrateful you are!"
+
+"If mother and son have both declared war upon me, there is nothing left
+for me but to beat a retreat," exclaimed the doctor, drawing back a step
+or two.
+
+"Oh, well, we will not take an unfair advantage; but only upon one
+condition, doctor. That is that you will dine with us."
+
+"I left home with that very laudable intention," replied the doctor,
+quite seriously this time, "but just as I was leaving Pont Brillant, a
+woman stopped me and begged me to come at once to her son. I did so, but
+unfortunately his malady is of such a serious character that I shall not
+feel easy in mind if I do not see my patient again before seven
+o'clock."
+
+"Of course I can make no protest under circumstances like these, my dear
+doctor," replied Madame Bastien, "and I am doubly grateful to you for
+granting us a few moments."
+
+"And I have been looking forward to such a delightful evening," remarked
+the doctor. "It would have rounded out my day so well, for this morning
+I had a most delightful surprise."
+
+"So some unexpected piece of good fortune has befallen you, my dear
+doctor. How glad I am!"
+
+"Yes," replied the doctor; "for some time past I have been extremely
+uneasy about my best friend, an inveterate traveller, who had undertaken
+a dangerous journey through some of the least known portions of South
+America. Having heard nothing from him for more than eight months, I was
+beginning to feel very much alarmed, when this morning I received a
+letter from him written in London, where he had stopped for a few days
+on his return from Lima. He promises to come and spend some time with
+me, so you can judge how delighted I am, my dear Madame Bastien. He is
+like a brother to me, and not only has the best heart in the world, but
+is one of the most interesting as well as the most gifted men I know.
+What a pleasure it will be to have him all to myself!"
+
+Here the doctor was interrupted by an elderly servant woman, who was
+leading a poorly clad child of seven or eight years by the hand, and
+who, from the threshold of the door where she was standing, called to
+the youth:
+
+"It is six o'clock, M. Frederick."
+
+"I'll see you again presently, mother," said the lad, kissing his young
+mother on the forehead.
+
+Then, turning to the doctor, he added:
+
+"I shall see you, too, doctor, before you go, shall I not?"
+
+After which he hastily joined the child and old servant, and entered the
+house in company with them.
+
+"Where is he going?" asked the doctor.
+
+"To give his lesson. Didn't you see his scholar?"
+
+"What scholar?"
+
+"That child is the son of a day labourer who lives too far from Pont
+Brillant to be able to send his child to the village school, so
+Frederick is teaching the little fellow to read. He gives him two
+lessons a day, and I assure you that I am as well pleased with the
+teacher as with the pupil, doctor, for Frederick displays in his
+teaching a zeal, patience, and sweetness of disposition that delights
+me."
+
+"It is certainly a very nice thing for him to do."
+
+"We are obliged to do good in these small ways, you see, doctor," said
+Madame Bastien, with a rather sad smile. "You know with what rigid
+parsimony my son and I are treated in regard to money matters. Still, I
+should not complain. Thanks to this parsimony, Frederick devises all
+sorts of expedients. Some of them are, I assure you, very touching, and
+if I were not afraid of showing too much pride, I would tell you
+something that occurred last week."
+
+"Go on, my dear Madame Bastien; surely you are not going to try to play
+the mock modest mother with me."
+
+"No, I am not, so listen. Last Thursday Frederick and I walked over to
+Brevan heath--"
+
+"Where they are clearing up some land. I noticed that fact as I passed
+there this morning."
+
+"Yes, and you know that is pretty hard work, doctor."
+
+"I should say that it was. Digging up roots and stumps that have been
+there three or four centuries."
+
+"Well, while I was walking about with Frederick, we saw a poor,
+hungry-looking woman, with a little girl about ten years old, as pale
+and emaciated-looking as her mother, working there on the heath."
+
+"A woman and a child of that age! Why, such work was entirely beyond
+their strength."
+
+"You are right, doctor, and in spite of their courage, the poor
+creatures were making little or no headway. It was almost as much as the
+poor mother could do to lift the heavy spade, much less to force it into
+the hard earth, and when the root of a sapling at which she must have
+been digging a long time became partially uncovered, the woman and
+child, now using the spade as a lever, now digging in the ground with
+their hands, endeavoured to loosen the root, but in vain. Seeing how
+utterly futile their efforts were, the poor woman made an almost
+despairing movement, then threw herself down on the ground as if
+overcome with grief and fatigue, and covering her head with her tattered
+apron, she began to sob bitterly, while the child, kneeling beside her,
+also wept pitifully."
+
+"Ah! such poverty as that!"
+
+"I looked at my son. There were tears in his eyes as well as my own. I
+approached the poor woman and asked her how it happened that she was
+trying to do work so much beyond her strength, and she told me that her
+husband had contracted to clear up one quarter of the land, that he had
+become ill from overwork a couple of days before, that some of the work
+was still to be done, but that if the job was not finished by Saturday
+night, he would lose the fruit of nearly a fortnight's labour, for it
+was on these terms that her husband had undertaken the job, the work
+being urgent."
+
+"Such contracts are frequently made, and unless the conditions are
+scrupulously complied with, the poor delinquents have to suffer, I am
+sorry to say. So the poor woman was trying to take her husband's place,
+I suppose."
+
+"Yes, for it was a question of making or losing thirty-five francs upon
+which they were counting to pay the yearly rental of their miserable
+hovel, and purchase a little rye to live upon until the next harvest.
+After a few minutes' reflection Frederick said to the poor woman: 'I
+should think a good worker could finish the job in a couple of days, my
+good woman.' 'Yes, monsieur, but my husband is too ill to do it,' she
+replied. 'These poor people mustn't lose their thirty-five francs,
+mother,' Frederick said to me. 'They must have the money and we cannot
+afford to give it to them, so let me off from my studies on Friday and
+Saturday and I will finish the work for them. The poor woman won't run
+the risk of making herself ill. She can stay at home and nurse her
+husband, and Sunday she will get her money.'"
+
+"Frederick is a noble boy!" exclaimed M. Dufour.
+
+"Saturday evening just at dusk the task was completed," Madame Bastien
+continued. "Frederick performed the work with an ardour and cheerfulness
+which showed that it was a real pleasure to him. I stayed with him all
+during the two days. There was a big juniper-tree only a little way off,
+and I sat in the shade of that and read or embroidered while my son
+worked; and how he worked! such vigorous blows of the spade as he
+struck, the very earth trembled under my feet."
+
+"I can well believe it; though he is rather slim, he is remarkably
+strong for one of his years."
+
+"I took him water now and then, and to save time when lunch-time came,
+our old Marguerite brought us out something to eat. How happy we were
+eating out there on the heath under the shade of the juniper. Frederick
+enjoyed it immensely. Of course there was nothing so very wonderful
+about what he did, but what touched and pleased me was the promptness
+with which he made the resolution, and the perseverance and tenacity of
+will with which he carried it out."
+
+"You are, indeed, the happiest of mothers," said the doctor with genuine
+emotion, pressing Marie's hands warmly, "and you have reason to be
+doubly happy, as this happiness is your own work."
+
+"What else could you expect, doctor?" replied Madame Bastien, artlessly.
+"One lives for one's son you know."
+
+"You most assuredly do," said the doctor, warmly, "and it is well for
+you that you do, as but for him--" but M. Dufour checked himself
+suddenly as if he had been about to say something that would be better
+left unsaid.
+
+"You are right, my dear doctor, but now I think of it, didn't you say
+something about a proposition you were going to make to Frederick and
+me?"
+
+"True, it is this: you know, or rather you do not know--for you hear
+very little of the neighbourhood gossip--that the Château de Pont
+Brillant has recently undergone a thorough renovation."
+
+"I am so little _au courant_ with the gossip of the neighbourhood, as
+you say, that this is the first intimation I have had of the fact. I
+even thought that the château was closed."
+
+"It will not be much longer, for the young marquis is coming down to
+occupy it with his grandmother."
+
+"This is the son of the M. de Pont Brillant who died about three years
+ago, I suppose. He must be very young."
+
+"About Frederick's age. His father and mother are both dead, but his
+grandmother idolises him and she has gone to fabulous expense to
+refurnish the château, where she will hereafter spend eight or nine
+months of the year with her grandson. I was called to the castle a few
+days ago to attend M. le chef of the conservatories--for these great
+people do not say gardener; that would be entirely too common--and I was
+dazzled by the luxury and splendour that pervaded the immense
+establishment. There is a magnificent picture gallery, a palm house
+through which one could drive in a carriage, and superb statues in the
+gardens. Above all--but I want to have the pleasure of surprising you,
+so I will only say that the place rivals any of the magnificent palaces
+described in the Arabian Nights. I feel sure that you and Frederick
+would enjoy seeing all the wonders of this fairy-land, and thanks to the
+consideration which M. le chef of the gardens and conservatories accords
+me, I can take you through the chateau to-morrow or the day after, but
+no later, as the young marquis is expected the day following that. What
+do you say to the proposition?"
+
+"I accept it with pleasure, doctor. It will be a great treat to
+Frederick, whose wonder will be the greater as he has no idea that any
+such splendour exists in the world. So I thank you most heartily. We
+shall have a delightful day."
+
+"Very well. When shall we go?"
+
+"To-morrow, if it suits you."
+
+"Perfectly; I will make my round very early in the morning, so I can get
+here by nine o'clock. It will take us only about half an hour to reach
+the château, as there is a short cut through the forest."
+
+"And after we leave the château we can breakfast in the woods upon some
+fruit we will take with us," said Madame Bastien, gaily. "I will tell
+Marguerite to make one of those cakes you like so much, my dear doctor."
+
+"I consent on condition that the cake is a big one," replied the doctor,
+laughing, "for however large it may be, Frederick and I are sure to make
+a big hole in it."
+
+"You need have no fears on that score. You shall both have plenty of
+cake. But here comes Frederick; the lesson must be over. I will leave
+you the pleasure of surprising him."
+
+"Oh, mother, how delightful!" exclaimed the lad, when M. Dufour had
+informed him of his project. "Thank you, thank you, my dear doctor, for
+having planned this charming journey into fairy-land."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The doctor was punctual the next day, and he and Madame Bastien and her
+son started through the forest for the Château de Pont Brillant in all
+the fresh glory of a superb summer morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The approach to the castle was through a broad avenue nearly half a mile
+long, bordered by a double row of gigantic elms probably four centuries
+old. A broad esplanade, ornamented with enormous orange-trees in boxes,
+and bordered with a massive stone balustrade extended across the entire
+front of the château, afforded a superb view of the surrounding country,
+and served as a court of honour for the castle, which was a _chef
+d'oeuvre_ of the renaissance type of architecture, with big
+cylindrical cone-roofed towers with highly decorated dormer windows, and
+tall chimneys that strongly reminded the beholder of the grand yet
+fairy-like ensemble of the famous Château de Chambord.
+
+Frederick and his mother had never seen this imposing structure before
+except at a distance, and on reaching the middle of the broad esplanade
+they both paused, struck with admiration as they viewed all these
+marvellous details and the rich carvings and traceries of stone, the
+existence of which they had never even suspected before, while the good
+doctor, as pleased as if the château had belonged to him, rubbed his
+hands joyfully, as he complacently exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, the outside is nothing; just wait until you have entered this
+enchanted palace."
+
+"Oh, mother," cried Frederick, "look at that colonnade at the base of
+the main tower; how light and airy it is!"
+
+"And those balconies," responded his mother, "one would almost think
+they were made of lace! And the ornamentations on those window-caps,
+how elaborate yet how delicate they are."
+
+"I declare we sha'n't get away from the château before to-morrow if we
+waste so much time admiring the walls," protested the doctor.
+
+"M. Dufour is right. Come, Frederick," said Marie, taking her son's arm.
+
+"And those buildings which look like another château connected with the
+main buildings by circular wings, what are they?" asked the youth,
+turning to the doctor.
+
+"The stables and servants' quarters, my boy."
+
+"Stables!" exclaimed Madame Bastien. "Impossible! You must be mistaken,
+my dear doctor."
+
+"What! you have no more confidence than that in your cicerone!"
+exclaimed the doctor. "You will find that I am right, madame. There are
+so many stalls in the stable that when the great-grandfather, or
+great-great-grandfather of the present marquis lived here, he kept a
+regiment of cavalry here, horses and men at his own expense, just for
+the pleasure of seeing them go through their manoeuvres every morning
+before breakfast on the esplanade. It seemed to give the worthy man an
+appetite."
+
+"It was a whim worthy of a great soldier like him," said Marie. "You
+recollect with what interest we read the history of his Italian campaign
+last winter, do you not, Frederick?"
+
+"I should think I did remember," exclaimed Frederick, enthusiastically.
+"Next to Charles XII., the Maréchal de Pont Brillant is my favourite
+hero."
+
+Meanwhile the three visitors had crossed the esplanade, and Madame
+Bastien, seeing M. Dufour turn to the right instead of keeping straight
+on toward the front of the building, remarked:
+
+"But, doctor, it seems to me that the heavily carved door in front of us
+must lead into the inner courtyard."
+
+"So it does; the grand personages enter by that door, but plebeians,
+like ourselves, are lucky to get in the back way," replied the doctor,
+laughing. "I should like to see M. le Suisse take the trouble to open
+that armorial door for us."
+
+"I ask your pardon for my absurd pretensions," said Madame Bastien,
+gaily, while Frederick, making a sort of comical salute to the superb
+entrance, said, laughingly:
+
+"Ah, manorial doorway, we are only too well aware that you were not made
+for us!"
+
+M. Dufour, having rung at the servants' entrance and asked to see M.
+Dutilleul, head superintendent of the gardens and conservatories, the
+party was admitted into the courtyard. To reach M. Dutilleul's house, it
+was necessary to cross one of the stable-yards. About thirty riding,
+hunting, and carriage horses belonging to the young marquis had arrived
+the evening before, and a number of English grooms and hostlers were
+bustling in and out of the stables, some washing carriages, others
+polishing bits and stirrups until they shone like burnished silver, all
+under the vigilant eye of the chef of the stables, an elderly
+Englishman, who, with a cigar between his lips, was presiding over this
+work with truly British phlegm, cane in hand.
+
+Suddenly, pointing to a massive gate that had just turned slowly upon
+its hinges, the doctor exclaimed:
+
+"See, there come some more horses! A whole regiment of them. One would
+think we were living in the old marshal's time, Madame Bastien."
+
+About twenty-five more horses, of different ages and sizes, all
+concealed in blankets bearing the marquis's coat-of-arms, some ridden,
+some led, began to file through the archway. Their dusty legs and
+housings indicated that they had just made a long journey. A handsome
+calèche, drawn by two spirited horses, ended the procession. A
+handsomely dressed young man alighted from it, and gave some order in
+English to one of the grooms, who listened, cap in hand.
+
+"Do the horses that just came also belong to M. le marquis, my friend?"
+the doctor inquired of a passing servant.
+
+"Yes, they are M. le marquis's racers and brood mares."
+
+"And the gentleman that just got out of the carriage?"
+
+"Is M. Newman, M. le marquis's trainer."
+
+As the three visitors walked on toward the conservatories, they passed a
+long passage in the basement. This passage evidently led to the
+kitchens, for eight or ten cooks and scullions were engaged in unpacking
+several hogsheads filled with copper cooking utensils so prodigious in
+size that they seemed to have been made for Gargantua himself. The
+visitors also viewed, with ever increasing astonishment, the incredible
+number of servants of every kind.
+
+"Well, Madame Bastien, if any one should tell this young marquis that
+you and I and a host of other people had only one or two servants to
+wait on us, and yet were tolerably well served, he would probably laugh
+in his face," remarked M. Dufour.
+
+"So much pomp and luxury bewilders me," replied Marie. "Why, there is a
+little town right here in the château, and think of all those horses!
+You will not want for models after this, Frederick. You are so fond of
+drawing horses, but up to this time you have had only our venerable
+cart-horse for a model."
+
+"Really, mother, I had no idea that any one save the king, perhaps, was
+rich enough to have such an immense number of servants and horses,"
+replied Frederick. "Great Heavens! what a host of people and animals to
+be devoted to the service or pleasure of a single person!"
+
+The words were uttered in an ironical tone, but Madame Bastien did not
+notice the fact, being so deeply interested as well as amused by what
+she saw going on around her; nor had she noticed that her son's features
+had contracted slightly several times, as if under the influence of some
+disagreeable impression.
+
+The fact is, though Frederick was not a particularly close observer, he
+had been struck with the lack of respect shown to his mother and the
+doctor by this crowd of noisy and busy domestics; some had jostled the
+visitors as they passed, others had rudely obstructed the way, others,
+surprised at Marie Bastien's rare beauty, had stared at her with bold,
+almost insulting curiosity, facts which the young mother in her
+unconsciousness had entirely failed to notice.
+
+Not so with her son, however, and seeing that his mother, the doctor,
+and himself were thus treated simply because they had owed their
+admission to a servant, and sought admission at the servants' entrance,
+Frederick's admiration became tinged with a slight bitterness, the
+bitterness that had caused his ironical comment on the number of persons
+and horses devoted to the pleasure and service of a single individual.
+
+The sight of the magnificent gardens through which they were obliged to
+pass to reach the greenhouses soon made the lad forget his bitterness.
+The gardeners were no less numerous than the subordinates in the various
+other departments, and by inquiring for M. le chef of the gardens and
+conservatories, the visitors finally ascertained that this important
+personage was in the main conservatory.
+
+This building, which was circular in form, was two hundred feet in
+diameter, with a conical roof, the apex of which rose to a height of
+forty feet. This gigantic conservatory, constructed of iron, with
+remarkable boldness yet lightness of design, was filled with the most
+superb exotics. Banana-trees of all sizes and kinds, from the dwarf musa
+to the paradisiaca, rose to a height of thirty feet, with leaves many
+of them two yards in length. Here the green fans of the date-palm
+mingled with the tall stems of the sugar-cane and bamboos, while the
+clear water in a huge marble basin in the centre of the conservatory
+reflected all sorts of aquatic plants, among them great arums from
+India, with enormous round leaves, tall cyperus with their waving
+plumes, and the lotus of the Nile, with its immense azure flowers so
+intoxicating in their fragrance. A marvellous variety of vegetation of
+every shape and kind and colour had been collected here, from the pale
+mottled green of the begonia, to the richest hues of the maranta, with
+its wonderful leaves of green velvet underneath and purple satin on top;
+tall ficus side by side with ferns so delicate that the lace-like
+foliage seemed to be supported with thin strands of violet silk; here a
+strelitzia, with a flower that looked like a bird with orange wings and
+a lapis lazuli crest, vied in splendour with the astrapea, with its
+enormous cerise pompon, flecked with gold, while in many places the
+immense leaves of the banana-trees formed a natural arch which so
+effectually concealed the glass roof of the rotunda from view that one
+might have supposed oneself in a tropical forest.
+
+Marie Bastien and Frederick interchanged exclamations of surprise and
+admiration at every step.
+
+"Ah, Frederick, how delightful it is to see and touch these banana-trees
+and date-palms, we have read of so often in books of travel," cried
+Marie.
+
+"Mother, mother, here is the coffee-tree," exclaimed Frederick, in his
+turn, "and there, that plant with such thick leaves, climbing up that
+column, is the vanilla."
+
+"Frederick, look at those immense latania leaves. It is easy to
+understand now that in India five or six leaves are enough to cover a
+cabin."
+
+"And mother, look, there is the beautiful passion-vine Captain Cook
+speaks of. I recognised it at once by the flowers; they look like little
+openwork china baskets, and yet you and I used to accuse the poor
+captain of inventing impossible flowers."
+
+"M. de Pont Brillant must spend most of his time in this enchanted
+garden when he is at home," Marie Bastien remarked to the
+superintendent.
+
+"M. le marquis is like the late marquis, his father," replied the
+gardener. "He doesn't care much for flowers. He prefers the stable and
+kennels."
+
+Madame Bastien and her son gazed at each other in amazement.
+
+"Then, why does he have these magnificent conservatories, monsieur?"
+inquired the young woman, ingenuously.
+
+"Because every castle must have its conservatories, madame," replied the
+functionary, proudly. "It is a luxury every self-respecting nobleman
+owes to himself."
+
+"So it is purely a matter of self-respect," Marie remarked to her son in
+a whispered aside. "But all jesting aside, in winter, when the days are
+so short, and the snow is flying, what delightful hours one could spend
+here, safe from the frost."
+
+At last the doctor was obliged to interfere.
+
+"My dear madame, we shall have to spend at least a couple of days in the
+conservatory, at this rate," he exclaimed, laughing.
+
+"That is true, doctor," replied Madame Bastien, smiling; then, with a
+sigh of regret, she added: "Come, let us leave the tropics,--for some
+other part of the world, I suppose, as you told me this was a land of
+wonders, M. Dufour."
+
+"You thought I was jesting. Well, you shall see. If you are very good, I
+will now take you to China."
+
+"To China?"
+
+"Certainly, and after remaining there a quarter of an hour we will make
+a little excursion to Switzerland."
+
+"And what then, doctor?"
+
+"Well, when there are no more foreign lands to visit, we will inspect
+all the different eras from the Gothic age down to the days of Louis the
+Fifteenth, and all in an hour's time."
+
+"Nothing can surprise me now, doctor," replied Madame Bastien, "for I
+know for a certainty, now, that we are in fairy-land. Come, Frederick."
+
+And the visitors followed M. le chef of the gardens and conservatories,
+who smiled rather superciliously at the plebeian amazement of M.
+Dufour's friends. Though the wonders of the conservatory had made
+Frederick forget his bitter feelings for a time, the lad followed his
+mother with a less buoyant step than usual, for the bitterness returned
+as he thought of the young Marquis de Pont Brillant's indifference to
+the beauties that would have given such joy and delight and congenial
+occupation to the many persons capable of appreciating the treasures
+collected here at such prodigious expense.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+On leaving the immense rotunda which formed the principal conservatory,
+the head gardener conducted the visitors into other hothouses built on
+either side of the main structure. One of these, used as a pinery, led
+to another conservatory devoted entirely to orchids, and, in spite of
+the humidity and stifling heat, the doctor had considerable difficulty
+in tearing Marie Bastien and her son away from the spot, so great was
+their wonder and astonishment at the sight of these beautiful but almost
+fantastic flowers, some strongly resembling huge butterflies in shape
+and colouring, others, winged insects of the most fantastic appearance.
+Here M. Dutilleul's domain ended, but he was kind enough to express a
+willingness to conduct our friends through the orangery and grapery.
+
+"I promised you China," the doctor said to his friends, "and here we are
+in China."
+
+In fact, as they left the orchid house, they found themselves in a
+gallery, with columns painted a bright green and scarlet, and paved with
+porcelain blocks which were continued up the low wall that served as a
+support for the base of the columns. Between these columns stood immense
+blue, white, and gold vases, containing camellias, peonies, azaleas, and
+lemon-trees. This gallery, which was enclosed with glass in winter, led
+to a small Chinese house which formed the centre of a large
+winter-garden.
+
+The construction of this house, which had cost infinite care and an
+immense outlay of money, dated back to the middle of the eighteenth
+century, when the rage for everything Chinese was at its height, as the
+famous Chanteloup pagoda, a very tall building, constructed entirely of
+china, testifies.
+
+The Chinese house at Pont Brillant was no whit inferior to M. de
+Choiseul's famous "folly." The arrangement of this dwelling, which
+consisted of several rooms, the hangings, furniture, ornaments, and
+household utensils, were all strictly authentic, and to complete the
+illusion, two wonderful wax figures, life-size, stood on either side of
+the drawing-room door, as if to welcome their visitors, to whom they
+ever and anon bowed, thanks to some internal mechanism that made them
+move their eyes from side to side, and alternately raise and incline
+their heads. The choicest and most curious specimens of lacquer work,
+richly embroidered stuffs, furniture, china, gold and silver articles,
+and ivory carvings had been collected in this sort of museum.
+
+"How wonderful!" exclaimed Madame Bastien, examining all these treasures
+with great curiosity and interest. "See, Frederick, here is a living
+book in which one can study the customs, habits, and history of this
+singular country, for here is also a collection of medals, coins,
+drawings, and manuscripts."
+
+"Say, mother!" exclaimed Frederick, "how pleasantly and profitably one
+could spend the long winter evenings here in reading about China, and
+comparing, or rather verifying the descriptions in the book with nature,
+so to speak."
+
+"M. de Pont Brillant must often visit this curious and interesting
+pavilion, I am sure," said Marie, turning to M. Dutilleul.
+
+"M. le marquis has never been a victim to the Chinese craze, madame,"
+was the reply. "He likes hunting much better. It was his
+great-grandfather who had this house built, because it was the fashion
+at that time, that is all."
+
+Marie could not help shrugging her shoulders the least bit in the world,
+and exchanging a half-smile with her son, who seemed to become more and
+more thoughtful as he followed his mother, to whom the doctor had
+offered his arm to conduct her along a winding path leading from the
+winter-garden to a rocky grotto, lighted by large, lens-shaped pieces of
+blue glass inserted in the rocks, which imparted to this subterranean
+chamber, ornamented with beautiful sea-shells and coral, a pale light
+similar to that which pervades the depths of the ocean.
+
+"We are going to the home of the water-nymphs now, are we not?" asked
+Madame Bastien, gaily, as she began the descent. "Isn't some mermaid
+coming to welcome us upon the threshold of her watery empire?"
+
+"Nothing of the kind," replied the doctor. "This subterranean passage,
+carpeted, as you see, and always kept warm during the winter, leads to
+the château; for you must have noticed that all the different buildings
+we have seen are connected by covered passages, so in winter one can go
+from one to the other without fearing rain or cold."
+
+In fact, this grotto was connected, by a spiral staircase, with the end
+of a long gallery called the Guards' Hall, and which in years gone by
+had probably served for that purpose. Ten windows of stained glass, with
+the Pont Brillant coat-of-arms emblazoned upon them, lighted this
+immense room finished in richly carved oak, with a sky ceiling divided
+by heavy groins of carved oak.
+
+Ten figures in complete suits of armour, helmet on head, visor down,
+halberd in hand, sword at side, were ranged in line on the other side of
+the gallery, facing, and directly opposite the ten windows, where the
+reflection from the stained glass cast prismatic lights upon the steel
+armour, making it stand out in vivid relief against the dark woodwork.
+
+In the middle of this hall, upon a pedestal, was a knight, also in a
+complete suit of armour, mounted upon a battle-steed hewn out of wood,
+which was entirely hidden by its steel bards and long, richly emblazoned
+trappings. The knight's armour, which was heavily embossed with gold,
+was a marvel of the goldsmith's art and of elaborate ornamentation, and
+M. le chef of the conservatories, pausing in front of the figure, said
+with a certain amount of family pride:
+
+"This suit of armour was worn by Raoul IV., Sire de Pont Brillant,
+during the First Crusade, which proves beyond a doubt that the nobility
+of M. le marquis is of no recent date."
+
+Just then an elderly man, dressed in black, having opened one of the
+massive doors of the hall, M. Dutilleul remarked to Doctor Dufour:
+
+"Ah, doctor, here is M. Legris, the keeper of the silver. He is a friend
+of mine. I will ask him to show you about. He will prove a much better
+guide than I should be."
+
+And advancing toward the old man, M. Dutilleul said:
+
+"My dear Legris, here are some friends of mine who would like to see the
+castle. I am going to hand them over to you, and in return, whenever any
+of your acquaintances wish to inspect the hothouses--"
+
+"Our friends' friends are our friends, Dutilleul," replied the keeper of
+the silver, rather, peremptorily; then, with a rather familiar gesture,
+he motioned the visitors to follow him into the apartments which a large
+corps of servants had just finished putting in order.
+
+It would take entirely too long to enumerate all the splendid adornments
+of this castle, or rather, palace, from the library, which many a large
+town might have envied, to a superb picture gallery, containing many of
+the finest specimens of both the old and the modern school of art, upon
+which the visitors could only cast a hasty glance, for, in spite of the
+obliging promise made to M. Dutilleul, the keeper of the castle silver
+seemed rather impatient to get rid of his charges.
+
+The first floor, as M. Dufour had said, consisted of an extensive suite
+of apartments, each of which might have served as an illustration of
+some particular epoch in interior decoration between the fourteenth and
+eighteenth centuries; in short, it was a veritable museum, though of an
+essentially private character, by reason of the many family portraits
+and the valuable relics of every sort and kind which had belonged to
+different members of this great and ancient house.
+
+In one of the wings on the second floor were the apartments of the
+dowager Marquise de Pont Brillant. In spite of that lady's advanced age,
+these rooms had been newly fitted up in the daintiest, most coquettish
+style imaginable. There was a profusion of lace and gilding and costly
+brocades, as well as of elaborately carved rosewood furniture, and
+superb ornaments of Sevres and Dresden china. The bedchamber, hung with
+pink and white brocade, with a canopied bedstead decorated with big
+bunches of white ostrich feathers, was especially charming. The
+dressing-room was really a ravishing boudoir hung with pale blue satin,
+studded with marguerites. In the middle of this room, furnished in
+gilded rosewood, like the adjoining bedchamber, was a magnificent
+dressing-table, draped with costly lace caught back with knots of
+ribbon, and covered with toilet articles, some of wrought gold, others
+of sky-blue Sevres.
+
+Our three friends had just entered this apartment when a haughty,
+arrogant-looking man appeared in the doorway. This personage, who wore a
+bit of red ribbon in the buttonhole of his long frock coat, was nothing
+more or less than my lord steward of the castle and surrounding domain.
+
+On seeing the three strangers, this high and mighty personage frowned
+with an intensely surprised and displeased air.
+
+"What are you doing here?" he demanded, imperiously, of his subordinate,
+M. Legris. "Why are you not attending to your silver? Who are these
+people?"
+
+On hearing these discourteous words, Madame Bastien turned scarlet with
+confusion, the little doctor straightened himself up to his full height,
+and Frederick rashly muttered, under his breath, "Insolent creature!" as
+he stepped a little closer to his mother.
+
+Madame Bastien gave her son's hand a warning pressure, as she slightly
+shrugged her shoulder as if to show her disdain.
+
+"They are some friends of Dutilleul's, M. Desmazures," replied M.
+Legris, humbly. "He asked me to take them through the chateau, and--and
+I thought--"
+
+"Why, this is outrageous!" exclaimed the steward, interrupting him. "I
+never heard of such assurance. Such a thing wouldn't be allowed in the
+house of a tradesman on the Rue St. Denis! The idea of taking the first
+person that comes along into the apartments of madame la marquise, in
+this fashion."
+
+"Monsieur," said Doctor Dufour, firmly, walking toward the steward,
+"Madame Bastien, her son, and myself, who am M. Dutilleul's physician,
+thought we were committing no indiscretion--nor were we--in accepting an
+offer to show us the château. I have visited several royal residences,
+monsieur, and think it well to inform you that I have always been
+politely treated by the person in charge of them."
+
+"That is very possible, monsieur," answered the steward, dryly, "but you
+doubtless applied to some person who was authorised to give it, for
+permission to visit these royal residences. You should have addressed a
+written application to me, the steward, and the sole master here in M.
+le marquis's absence."
+
+"We must beg monsieur to kindly pardon our ignorance of these
+formalities," said Madame Bastien, with a mocking smile, as if to show
+her son how little she minded this pompous functionary's discourtesy.
+
+She took Frederick's arm as she spoke.
+
+"If I had been more familiar with the usages of monsieur's
+administration," added the doctor, with a sarcastic smile, "monsieur
+would have received a respectful request that in his omnipotent goodness
+he would kindly grant us permission to inspect the château."
+
+"Is that intended as a jest, monsieur?" demanded the steward, angrily.
+
+"Somewhat, monsieur," replied the little doctor.
+
+The irascible functionary took a step forward.
+
+"In order not to close this conversation with a jest, monsieur,"
+interposed Madame Bastien, turning to the steward, "permit me to say in
+all seriousness, monsieur, that I have often read that the house of any
+great nobleman could always be recognised by the urbanity of his
+hirelings."
+
+"Well, madame?"
+
+"Well, monsieur, it seems to me that you must desire to prove this
+rule--by the exception."
+
+It is impossible to describe the perfect dignity with which Marie
+Bastien gave this well-deserved lesson to the arrogant hireling, who bit
+his lip with rage, unable to utter a word, whereupon Marie, taking the
+doctor's arm, gaily remarked to her companions:
+
+"You should not manifest so much surprise. Don't you know that one often
+meets with evil spirits in enchanted countries? It is a satisfaction to
+know that they are nearly always of an inferior order. Let us hasten
+away with recollections of these wonders which the evil genius cannot
+spoil."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few minutes afterward Madame Bastien, Frederick, and the doctor left
+the castle. Marie, out of consideration for the doctor, who seemed
+greatly pained at this contretemps, as well as by reason of her natural
+good nature, bore her share of their mutual discomfiture cheerfully,
+even gaily, and laughed not a little at the absurdly important airs the
+steward had given himself. M. Dufour, who cared nothing about the man's
+rudeness except so far as it might affect Madame Bastien, soon recovered
+his natural good spirits when he saw how little importance his fair
+companion seemed to attach to the affair.
+
+A quarter of an hour afterward the three friends were sitting in the
+shade of a clump of gigantic oaks, enjoying their lunch. Frederick,
+though he manifested some little constraint of manner, seemed to share
+his companions' high spirits, but Marie, too clear-sighted not to notice
+that her son was not exactly himself, fancied she could divine the cause
+of his preoccupation, and teased him a little about the importance he
+seemed to attach to the steward's impertinence.
+
+"Come, come, my handsome Cid, my valiant cavalier," she said, gaily,
+"keep your anger and your trusty blade for an adversary worthy of you.
+The doctor and I both gave the ill-bred fellow a good lesson. Now let us
+think only of ending the day as pleasantly as possible, and of the
+pleasure it will give us for weeks to come to talk of the treasures of
+every kind that we have seen."
+
+Then, with a laugh, the young mother added:
+
+"Say, Frederick, don't forget to-morrow morning to tell old Andre, M. le
+chef of our open-air garden, not to forget to bring us a bouquet of
+lilies of the valley and violets."
+
+"Yes, mother," answered Frederick, smiling.
+
+"And I wish you would also have the goodness to tell M. le chef of our
+stables to harness our venerable white horse in the afternoon, as we
+must go to the village to do some shopping."
+
+"And I, madame," exclaimed the doctor, with his mouth full of cake,
+"take great pleasure in assuring you, or, rather, I should say, in
+proving to you that your old Marguerite, the chef of your culinary
+department, is a none-such, so far as cake-making is concerned,--for
+this cake is certainly--"
+
+But the good doctor did not finish the sentence, as he choked badly in
+his effort to talk and eat at the same time.
+
+So with gay jests and laughter the meal went on, and Frederick tried his
+best to share his companions' hilarity; but the lad's mirth was
+constrained, he was conscious of a strange and increasing feeling of
+annoyance. As certain vague and inexplicable symptoms presage the
+invasion of a still latent malady, so certain vague and inexplicable
+sentiments seemed to be germinating in Frederick's heart. The nature of
+these sentiments, though as yet not very clearly defined, caused him a
+feeling of instinctive shame, so much so, in fact, that he, who had
+always been so confiding with his mother, now dreaded her penetration
+for the first time in his life, and deliberately set to work to deceive
+her by feigning all the rest of the day a gaiety that he was far from
+feeling.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Several days had passed since the visit to the Château de Pont Brillant.
+Frederick had never left his mother's house to visit the homes of
+persons of an even humbler station than his own, so the impression which
+the sight of the splendours and the almost royal luxury that pervaded it
+had made upon him had suffered no diminution. When, on the following
+morning, the lad awoke in his own little room, it seemed bare and
+comfortless to him, and when he afterward went as usual to bid his
+mother good morning, he involuntarily compared the costly elegance of
+the Marquise de Pont Brillant's apartments with the poverty of his
+mother's surroundings, and experienced a strange sinking of heart.
+
+An unlucky chance deepened this impression. When Frederick entered his
+mother's room, the young woman, in all the freshness of her marvellous
+beauty, was arranging her beautiful brown hair in front of a cheap
+painted toilet-table covered with oilcloth and surmounted by a tiny
+glass with a black frame.
+
+Frederick, remembering the rich lace and satin and gold that adorned the
+dressing-room of the dowager marquise, experienced for the first time in
+his life a bitter pang of envy, as he said to himself:
+
+"Doesn't that elegant, luxurious boudoir I saw at the castle seem much
+better suited to a beautiful and charming woman like my mother than to a
+wrinkled octogenarian who, in her ridiculous vanity, wants to admire her
+withered face in mirrors wreathed with lace and ribbons!"
+
+Already strangely depressed in spirits, Frederick went out into the
+garden. The morning was perfect, and the dew on the petals of the
+flowers glistened like pearls in the bright July sunshine. Heretofore
+the lad, like his mother, had often gone into ecstasies over the beauty,
+freshness, and exquisite perfume of some specially fine rose; the snowy
+petals of the Easter flowers, the velvety petals of the pansies, and the
+exquisite delicacy of the acacia had always excited his lively
+admiration, but now he had only careless, almost disdainful looks for
+these simple flowers, as he thought of the rare and magnificent tropical
+plants that filled the spacious conservatories of the château. The grove
+of venerable oaks, enlivened by the gay warbling of birds that seemed to
+be replying to the soft murmur of the little waterfall, was also viewed
+with disdain. How insignificant these things appeared in comparison with
+the magnificent grounds of the chateau, adorned with rare statues and
+superb fountains peopled with bronze naiads and Tritons sending great
+jets of water as high as the tree-tops.
+
+Absorbed in thoughts like these, Frederick walked slowly on until he
+reached the edge of the grove. There he paused and gazed mechanically
+around him, then gave a sudden start, and turned abruptly, as he
+perceived in the distance the château standing out clearly against the
+horizon in the bright light of the rising sun. At the sight of it
+Frederick hastily retreated into the shadows of the grove, but, alas!
+though he could thus close his bodily eyes to this resplendent vision,
+the lad's too faithful memory kept the wonders that had so impressed him
+continually before his mental vision, inducing comparisons which
+poisoned the simple pleasures of the past, until now so full of charm.
+
+As he passed the open door of the stable, a superannuated farm horse
+which was sometimes harnessed to a sort of chaise, Madame Bastien's only
+equipage, whinnied in his stall for the crusts of bread that he had
+been in the habit of receiving every morning from his young master.
+
+Frederick had forgotten to bring the crusts that morning, and to atone
+for his forgetfulness, he tore up a big handful of fresh grass and
+offered it to his faithful old friend, but suddenly remembering the
+magnificent blooded horses he had seen at the castle, he smiled bitterly
+and turned brusquely away from the old horse, who, with the grass still
+between his teeth, watched his young master for a long time with an
+expression of almost human intelligence.
+
+Soon afterward an old and infirm woman, to whom Frederick, having no
+money, gave bread and fruit every week, came to the house as usual.
+
+"Here, my good mother," he said, as he presented his usual offering, "I
+wish I could do more for you, but my mother and I have no money."
+
+"You are very kind all the same, M. Bastien," replied the woman, "but I
+shall not be obliged to ask anything of you much longer."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why, you see, M. Bastien, that M. le marquis is coming to live at the
+castle, and these great noblemen are very generous with their money, and
+I hope to get my share. Your servant, M. Bastien."
+
+Frederick blushed for the first time at the humble gift he had made
+heretofore with such pleasure and contentment, so shortly afterward,
+when another beggar accosted him, he said:
+
+"You would only sneer at what I can give you. Apply to M. le marquis. He
+should act as a benefactor to the entire neighbourhood. He is so rich!"
+
+That such bitter envy should have taken such sudden but absolute
+possession of Frederick's heart seems strange indeed to those who know
+his past, yet this apparent anomaly can be easily explained.
+
+Madame Bastien's son had been reared in an exceedingly modest home, but
+his mother's taste and refinement had imbued even these plain
+surroundings with an air of elegance and distinction, and, thanks to a
+thousand nothings, the ensemble had been charming.
+
+The love of beauty and elegance thus developed rendered Frederick
+peculiarly susceptible to the charm of the wonders he had seen at the
+castle, and the longing to possess them naturally corresponded with his
+appreciation and admiration.
+
+If, on the contrary, Frederick's life had been spent amid rough and
+coarse surroundings, he would have been more amazed than surprised at
+the treasures which the château contained, and, ignorant of the refined
+enjoyment that could be derived from them, he would have been much less
+likely to envy the fortunate possessor of them.
+
+Madame Bastien soon perceived the change that was gradually taking place
+in her son, and that manifested itself in frequent fits of melancholy.
+The humble home no longer resounded with peals of laughter as in days
+gone by. When his studies were over, Frederick picked up a book and read
+during the entire recreation hour, but more than once Madame Bastien
+noticed that her son's eyes remained fixed upon the same page for a
+quarter of an hour.
+
+Her anxiety increasing, Madame Bastien remarked to her son: "My son, you
+seem so grave and taciturn and preoccupied, you are not nearly as lively
+as formerly."
+
+"True, mother," replied Frederick, forcing a smile, "I am sometimes
+surprised myself at the more serious turn my mind is taking. Still, it
+is not at all astonishing. I am no longer a child. It is quite time for
+me to be getting sensible."
+
+Frederick had never lied before, but he was lying now. Up to this time
+he had always confessed his faults to his mother. She had been the
+confidant of his every thought, but the mere idea of confessing or of
+allowing her to discover the bitter feelings which his visit to the
+Château de Pont Brillant had excited in his breast filled him with shame
+and dismay. In fact, he would rather have died than confess that he was
+enduring the torments of envy; so, placed upon his guard by Madame
+Bastien's lively solicitude, he devoted all his powers of mind and
+strength of will to conceal the wound that was beginning to rankle in
+his soul, but it is almost certain that his attempts to deceive his
+mother's tender sagacity would have proved futile had that mother not
+been at the same time reassured and deceived by Doctor Dufour.
+
+"Don't be alarmed," the physician said to her when she, in all
+sincerity, consulted him on the subject of her fears. "At the time of
+puberty, an entire change often takes place in a youth's character. The
+gayest and most demonstrative often become the most gloomy and taciturn.
+They experience the most unreasonable melancholy, the most acute
+anxiety. They give way to fits of profound depression, and feel an
+intense longing for solitude. So do not be alarmed, and above all give
+no sign of having noticed this change in your son. This almost
+inevitable crisis will be over in a few months, and you will then see
+Frederick himself again. He will have a different voice, that is all."
+
+Doctor Dufour's mistake was the more excusable as the symptoms which so
+alarmed Madame Bastien strongly resembled those which are often noticed
+in youths at that age; so Madame Bastien accepted this explanation, as
+she could not divine the real cause of this change in Frederick.
+
+This change had not manifested itself immediately after the visit to the
+chateau. It had, on the contrary, taken place gradually, almost
+imperceptibly, in fact, so that more than a month had elapsed before
+Madame Bastien really began to feel uneasy, hence it did not seem at all
+probable that there could be any connection between the visit to the
+château and Frederick's melancholy.
+
+Besides, how could Madame Bastien suppose that this youth reared by
+her--a youth who had always seemed of so noble and generous a
+character--could know envy?
+
+So, reassured by Doctor Dufour, Madame Bastien, though she watched the
+different phases of her son's condition, forced herself to conceal the
+sadness she often felt on seeing him so changed, and awaited his
+recovery with resignation.
+
+At first Frederick had tried to find some diversion in study, but soon
+study became impossible; his mind was elsewhere. Then he said to
+himself:
+
+"Whatever I may learn, whatever I may know, I shall never be anything
+but Frederick Bastien, a sort of half peasant, doomed to a life of
+obscurity, while that young marquis, without ever having done anything
+to deserve it, enjoys all the glory of a name which has been illustrious
+for ages."
+
+Then, as all the feudal relics at Pont Brillant, those galleries of
+paintings, those family portraits, those gorgeous escutcheons, recurred
+to Frederick's mind, for the first time in his life the poor boy felt
+deeply humiliated by the obscurity of his birth, and overcome with
+discouragement, said to himself:
+
+"This young marquis, already weary of the magnificence by which he is
+surrounded, indifferent to the treasures of which even a thousandth part
+would make my mother and me and a host of others so happy. Why, and by
+what right does he possess all this magnificence? Has he acquired these
+blessings by his toil? No. To enjoy all this, he has only taken the
+trouble to be born. Why should he have everything and others nothing?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The first period of envy that Frederick experienced was of a passive,
+the second of an active character.
+
+It is impossible to describe what he suffered then, especially as this
+feeling, concealed, concentrated as it were in the lowest depths of his
+soul, had no outlet, and was constantly stimulated by the sight of the
+castle, which seemed to meet his gaze at every turn, dominating as it
+did the whole country roundabout. The more Frederick realised the
+alarming progress of his malady, the more strenuously he endeavoured to
+hide it from his mother, telling himself in his gloom and despair that
+such weakness deserved scorn and contempt, and that not even a mother
+could condone it.
+
+All mental maladies react upon the physical system. Frederick's health
+gradually gave way. He could not sleep, and he, who had formerly been so
+energetic and active, seemed to dread the slightest exertion. In fact,
+the pressing and tender solicitations of his mother could alone arouse
+him from his apathy or his gloomy reveries.
+
+Poor Marie! How intensely she, too, suffered, but in silence,
+endeavouring to maintain a cheerful manner all the while for fear of
+alarming her son about himself, and waiting with mingled anxiety and
+hope the end of this crisis in her son's life.
+
+But alas! how long and painful this waiting seemed. What a change! What
+a contrast between this gloomy, listless, taciturn life, and the bright,
+busy, happy existence she and her son had previously led!
+
+One day early in October Madame Bastien and her son were together in the
+room that served both as parlour and study. Frederick, seated at the
+table, with his head supported on his left hand, was writing slowly and
+listlessly in a large exercise book.
+
+Madame Bastien, seated only a little distance from him, was apparently
+occupied with some embroidery, but in reality she was holding her needle
+suspended in the air, ready to resume her work at her son's slightest
+movement, while she furtively watched him.
+
+Tears she could hardly restrain filled her eyes as she noted the
+terrible change in her son's appearance, and remembered that only a
+comparatively short while ago the hours spent in study at this same
+table had been such pleasant, happy hours both for Frederick and
+herself, and compared the zeal and enthusiasm which her son had then
+displayed in his work with the listlessness and indifference she now
+remarked in him, for she soon saw his pen slip from his fingers, while
+his countenance displayed an intense ennui and lassitude.
+
+At last the lad, only half smothering a heavy sigh, buried his face in
+his hands and remained in this attitude several moments. His mother did
+not lose sight of him for an instant, but what was her surprise on
+seeing her son suddenly lift his head, and with eyes flashing and a
+faint colour tinging his cheeks, while a sardonic smile curved his lips,
+suddenly seize his pen again, and begin writing with feverish rapidity.
+
+The youth was transfigured. So inert, despondent, and lethargic a moment
+before, he now seemed full to overflowing of life and animation. One
+could see that his thoughts, too, flowed much more rapidly than his pen
+could trace them on the paper, by an occasional impatient movement of
+the body or the quick tapping of his foot upon the floor.
+
+A few words of explanation are necessary here.
+
+For some time Frederick had complained to his mother of his distaste,
+or rather his incapacity, for any regular work, though occasionally, in
+compliance with Madame Bastien's wishes as well as in the hope of
+diverting his mind, he had attempted something in the way either of
+study or an essay on some given subject, but almost invariably he had
+appealed to his formerly fertile imagination in vain.
+
+"I can't imagine what is the matter with me," he would murmur,
+despondently. "My mind seems to be enveloped in a sort of haze. Forgive
+me, mother, it is not my fault."
+
+And Madame Bastien found a thousand reasons to excuse and console him.
+
+So on this occasion the young mother fully expected to see Frederick
+soon abandon his work. What was her astonishment, consequently, to see
+him for the first time write on and on with increasing interest and
+eagerness.
+
+In this return to former habits Madame Bastien fancied she could detect
+the first sign of the end of this critical period in the life of her
+son. Doubtless his mind was beginning to emerge from the sort of haze
+which had so long obscured it, and, eager to satisfy herself of the
+fact, Madame Bastien rose, and noiselessly approaching her son on
+tiptoe, she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned over to read
+what he had written.
+
+In his surprise the youth gave a violent start, then, hastily closing
+his exercise book, turned an impatient, almost angry face, toward his
+mother and exclaimed:
+
+"You had no right to do that, mother."
+
+Then reopening his book, he tore out the pages he had just written,
+crumpled them up in his hands, and threw them into the fire that was
+blazing on the hearth, where they were soon burnt to ashes.
+
+Madame Bastien, overwhelmed with astonishment, stood for a moment
+speechless and motionless; then, comparing this rudeness on the part of
+her son with the delightful camaraderie which had formerly existed
+between them, she burst into tears.
+
+It was the first time her son had ever wounded her feelings. Seeing his
+mother's tears, Frederick, in an agony of remorse, threw his arms around
+his mother's neck and covered her face with tears and kisses, exclaiming
+in a voice broken by sobs:
+
+"Oh, forgive me, mother, forgive me!"
+
+On hearing this repentant cry, Madame Bastien reproached herself for her
+tears. She even reproached herself for the painful impression the
+incident had made upon her, for was it not due to Frederick's
+unfortunate condition? so, covering her son's face with passionate
+kisses, she, in her turn, implored his forgiveness.
+
+"My poor child, you are not well," she exclaimed, tenderly, "and your
+suffering renders you nervous and irritable. I was very foolish to
+attach any importance to a slight show of impatience for which you were
+hardly accountable."
+
+"No, oh, no, mother, I swear it."
+
+"Nonsense! my child, I believe you. As if I could doubt you, my dear
+Frederick."
+
+"I tore out the pages, mother," continued the lad with no little
+embarrassment, for he was telling a falsehood, "I tore out the pages
+because I was not satisfied with what I had written. It was the worst
+thing I have written since this--this sort of--of despondency seized
+me."
+
+"And I, seeing you write with so much apparent animation for the first
+time in weeks, felt so pleased that I could not resist the temptation to
+see what you had written. But let us say no more about that, my dear
+Frederick, though I feel almost sure that you have been too severe a
+critic."
+
+"No, mother, I assure you--"
+
+"Oh, well, I will take your word for it, and now as you are not in the
+mood for work, suppose we go out for a little walk."
+
+"It is so cloudy, mother, besides, I don't feel as if I had energy
+enough to take a single step."
+
+"It is this dangerous languor that I am so anxious to have you fight
+against and overcome if possible. Come, my dear lazybones, come out and
+row me about the lake in your boat. The exercise will do you good."
+
+"I don't feel equal to it, really, mother."
+
+"Well, you haven't heard, I think, that André said he saw a big flock of
+plover this morning. Take your gun, and we will go over to Sablonnière
+heath. You will enjoy it and so shall I. You are such a good shot, it is
+a pleasure to see you handle a gun."
+
+"I don't take any pleasure in hunting now."
+
+"Yet you used to be so fond of it."
+
+"I don't care for anything now," replied Frederick, almost
+involuntarily, in a tone of intense bitterness.
+
+Again the young mother felt the tears spring to her eyes, and Frederick,
+seeing his mother's distress, exclaimed:
+
+"I love you always, mother, you know that."
+
+"Oh, yes, I know that, but you have no idea how despondently you said,
+'I don't care for anything now.'"
+
+Then trying to smile in order to cheer her son, Marie added:
+
+"Really, I can't imagine what is the matter with me to-day. I seem to be
+continually saying and doing the wrong thing, and here you are crying
+again, my dear child."
+
+"Never mind, mother, never mind. It is a long time since I have cried,
+and I really believe it will do me good."
+
+He spoke the truth. These tears did indeed seem to relieve his
+overburdened heart, and when he at last looked up in the face of the
+mother who was tenderly bending over him, and saw her beautiful features
+wearing such an expression of infinite tenderness, he thought for an
+instant of confessing the feelings that tortured him.
+
+"Yes, yes," he said to himself, "I was wrong to fear either scorn or
+anger from her. In her angelic goodness of heart I shall find only pity,
+compassion, consolation, and aid."
+
+The mere thought of confessing all to his mother comforted him, and
+seemed even to restore a little of his former courage, for after a
+moment he said to Madame Bastien:
+
+"You proposed a walk a few minutes ago, mother. I believe you are right
+in thinking that the open air would do me good."
+
+This admission on her son's part seemed to Madame Bastien a good omen,
+and hastily donning her hat and a silk mantle, she left the house in
+company with her son.
+
+But now the time for the confession had come, the youth shrank from it.
+He could think of no way to broach the subject, or to excuse himself to
+his mother for having concealed the truth from her so long.
+
+As they were walking along, the sky, which had been so lowering all the
+morning, suddenly cleared, and the sun shone out brightly.
+
+"What a delightful change!" exclaimed Madame Bastien, in the hope of
+cheering her son. "One might almost think that the radiant sun had
+emerged from the clouds to give you a friendly greeting. And how pretty
+that old juniper looks in this flood of sunlight. That old juniper over
+there at the end of the field, you remember it, of course?"
+
+Frederick shook his head.
+
+"What! you have forgotten those two long summer days when I sat in the
+shade of that old tree while you finished that poor labourer's work?"
+
+"Oh, yes, that is true," replied Frederick, quickly.
+
+The recollection of that generous act seemed to make the thought of the
+painful confession he must make to his mother less painful, and his
+growing cheerfulness showed itself so plainly in his face that Madame
+Bastien said to him:
+
+"I was right to insist upon your coming out, my child. You look so much
+brighter that I am sure you must be feeling better."
+
+"I am, mother."
+
+"How glad I am, my son," exclaimed Madame Bastien, clasping her hands,
+thankfully. "What if this should be the end of your malady, Frederick!"
+
+As the young mother made this gesture of thankfulness, the light silk
+mantle she was wearing slipped from her shoulders unnoticed either by
+her or by Frederick, who replied:
+
+"I don't know why it is, but I too hope like you, mother, that I shall
+soon be myself again."
+
+"Ah, if you too hope so, we are saved," exclaimed his mother, joyfully.
+"M. Dufour told me that this strange and distressing malady which has
+been troubling you often disappears as suddenly as it came, like a bad
+dream, and health returns as if by enchantment."
+
+"A dream!" exclaimed Frederick, looking at his mother with a strange
+expression on his face; "yes, mother, you are right. It was a bad
+dream."
+
+"What is the matter, my child? You seem greatly excited, but it is with
+pleasurable emotion. I know that by your face."
+
+"Yes, mother, yes! If you knew--"
+
+But Frederick did not have time to finish the sentence. A sound that was
+coming nearer and nearer, but that Marie and her son had not noticed
+before, made them both turn.
+
+A few yards behind them was a man on horseback, holding Madame Bastien's
+mantle in his hand.
+
+Checking his horse, which a servant who was in attendance upon him
+hastened forward to hold, the rider sprang lightly to the ground, and
+with his hat in one hand and the mantle in the other he advanced toward
+Madame Bastien, and bowing low, said, with perfect grace and courtesy of
+manner:
+
+"I saw this mantle slip from your shoulders, madame, and deem myself
+fortunate in being able to return it to you."
+
+Then with another low bow, having the good taste to thus evade Madame
+Bastien's thanks, the rider returned to his horse and vaulted into the
+saddle. As he passed Madame Bastien he deviated considerably from his
+course, keeping near a hedge that bordered the field, as if fearing the
+close proximity of his horse might alarm the lady, then bowed again, and
+continued on his way at a brisk trot.
+
+This young man, who was about Frederick's age, and who had a remarkably
+handsome face and distinguished bearing, had evinced so much grace of
+manner and politeness, that Madame Bastien innocently remarked to her
+son:
+
+"It is impossible to conceive of any one more polite or better bred, is
+it not, Frederick?"
+
+Just as Madame Bastien asked her son this question, a small groom in
+livery, who was following the horse-man, and who, like his master, was
+mounted upon a superb blooded horse, passed, the lad, who was evidently
+a strict observer of etiquette, having waited until his master was the
+prescribed twenty-five yards in advance of him before he moved from his
+place.
+
+Madame Bastien motioned him to stop. He did so.
+
+"Will you be kind enough to tell me your master's name?" asked the young
+woman.
+
+"M. le Marquis de Pont Brillant, madame," replied the groom, with a
+strong English accent.
+
+Then seeing that his master had started on a brisk trot, the lad did the
+same.
+
+"Did your hear that, Frederick?" asked Marie, turning to her son. "That
+was the young Marquis de Pont Brillant. Is he not charming? It is
+pleasant to see such a worthy representative of rank and fortune, is it
+not, my son? To be such a high and mighty personage, and so perfectly
+polite and well-bred, is certainly a charming combination. But why do
+you not answer me, Frederick? What is the matter, Frederick?" added
+Madame Bastien, suddenly becoming uneasy.
+
+"There is nothing the matter with me, mother," was the cold reply.
+
+"But there must be. Your face looks so different from what it did a
+moment ago. You must be suffering, and, great Heavens, how pale you
+are!"
+
+"The sun has disappeared behind the clouds again, and I am cold!"
+
+"Then let us hasten back,--let us hasten back at once! Heaven grant the
+improvement you spoke of just now may continue."
+
+"I doubt it very much, mother."
+
+"How despondently you speak."
+
+"I speak as I feel."
+
+"You are not feeling as well, then, my dear child?"
+
+"Not nearly as well," the lad replied. Then added, with a sort of
+ferocious bitterness, "I have suffered a relapse, a complete relapse,
+but it is the cold that has caused it, probably."
+
+And the unfortunate youth, who had always adored his mother, now
+experienced an almost savage delight in increasing his youthful parent's
+anxiety, thus avenging the poignant suffering which his mother's praises
+of Raoul de Pont Brillant had caused him.
+
+Yes, for jealousy, a feeling as entirely unknown to Frederick as envy
+had been heretofore, now increased the resentment he already felt
+against the young marquis.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The mother and son wended their way homeward, Madame Bastien in
+inexpressible grief and disappointment, Frederick in gloomy silence,
+thinking with sullen rage that he had been on the point of confessing to
+his mother the shameful secret for which he blushed, and that at almost
+the very same moment that she was lavishing enthusiasm upon the object
+of his envy, the Marquis de Pont Brillant.
+
+The unconscious comparison which his mother had made between the young
+marquis and himself, a comparison, alas! so unflattering to himself,
+changed the almost passive dislike he had heretofore felt for Raoul de
+Pont Brillant into an intense and implacable hatred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The little town of Pont Brillant is situated a few leagues from Blois,
+and not far from the Loire.
+
+A promenade called the mall, shaded by lofty trees, bounds Pont Brillant
+on the south. A few houses stand on the left side of the boulevard,
+which also serves as a fair ground.
+
+Doctor Dufour lived in one of these houses.
+
+About a month had elapsed since the events we have just related.
+
+Early in the month of November, on St. Hubert's Day,--St. Hubert, the
+reader may or may not recollect, is the hunter's patron saint,--the
+idlers of the little town had assembled on the mall about four o'clock
+in the afternoon to await the return of the young Marquis de Pont
+Brillant's hunting party from the neighbouring forest.
+
+The aforesaid idlers were beginning to become impatient at the long
+delay, when a clumsy cabriolet, drawn by an old work-horse in a
+dilapidated harness, tied up here and there with strings, drove up to
+the doctor's door, and Frederick Bastien, stepping out of this extremely
+modest equipage, assisted his mother to alight.
+
+The old horse, whose discretion and docility were established beyond all
+question, was left standing, with the lines upon his neck, close to the
+pavement in front of the doctor's house, which Madame Bastien and her
+son immediately entered.
+
+An old servant woman ushered them into the parlour, which was on the
+second floor, with windows overlooking the mall.
+
+"Can the doctor see me?" inquired Madame Bastien.
+
+"I think so, though he is with one of his friends who has been here for
+a few days but who leaves for Nantes this evening. I will go and tell
+him that you are here, though, madame."
+
+Envy, aided by jealousy,--the reader probably has not forgotten the
+praises so innocently lavished upon the young marquis by Madame
+Bastien,--had made frightful ravages in Frederick's heart during the
+past month, and the deterioration in his physical condition having been
+correspondingly great, one would scarcely have known him. His complexion
+was not only pale, but jaundiced and bilious, while his hollow cheeks,
+sunken eyes, which burned with a feverish light, and the bitter smile
+which was ever upon his lips, imparted an almost ferocious as well as
+unnatural expression to his face. His abrupt, nervous movements, and his
+curt, often impatient, voice, also made the contrast between the youth's
+past and present condition all the more striking.
+
+Marie Bastien seemed utterly disheartened and discouraged, but the
+gentle melancholy of her face only made her remarkable beauty still more
+touching in its character.
+
+A cold reserve on Frederick's part had succeeded the demonstrative
+affection that had formerly existed between mother and son. Marie, in
+despair, had nearly worn herself out in her efforts to discover the
+cause of this change in her child, and she was now beginning to fear
+that M. Dufour had been mistaken in his diagnosis of her son's case. She
+had accordingly come to consult him again on the subject, not having
+seen him for some time, as the worthy doctor had been detained at home
+by the duties and pleasures of a friendly hospitality.
+
+After having gazed sadly at her son for a moment, Marie said to him,
+almost timidly, as if afraid of irritating him:
+
+"Frederick, as you have accompanied me to the house of our friend,
+Doctor Dufour, whom I wish to consult in regard to myself, we had better
+take advantage of the opportunity to speak to him about you."
+
+"It is not at all necessary, mother. I am not ill."
+
+"Great Heavens! how can you say that? All last night you scarcely closed
+your eyes, my poor child. I went into your room several times to see if
+you were asleep and always found you wide awake."
+
+"It is so almost every night."
+
+"Alas! I know it, and that is one of the things that worry me so."
+
+"You do very wrong to trouble yourself about it, mother. I shall get
+over it by and by."
+
+"But consult M. Dufour, I beg of you. Is he not the best friend we have
+in the world? Tell him your feeling, and listen to his counsels."
+
+"I tell you again there is no need for me to consult M. Dufour," replied
+the lad, impatiently. "I warn you, too, that I shall not answer one of
+his questions."
+
+"But, my son, listen to me!"
+
+"Good Heavens! mother, what pleasure do you find in tormenting me like
+this?" Frederick exclaimed, stamping his foot angrily. "I have nothing
+to tell M. Dufour, and I shall tell him nothing. You will find out
+whether I have any will of my own or not."
+
+Just then the doctor's servant came in and said to Madame Bastien that
+the doctor was waiting for her in his office.
+
+Casting an imploring look at her son, the young mother furtively wiped
+away her tears and followed the servant to the doctor's office.
+Frederick, thus left alone in the room, leaned his elbow upon the sill
+of the open window, which overlooked the mall as we have said before.
+Between the mall and the Loire stretched a low range of hills, while in
+the horizon and dominating the forest that surrounded it was the Château
+de Pont Brillant, half veiled in the autumnal haze.
+
+Frederick's eyes, after wandering aimlessly here and there for a moment,
+finally fixed themselves upon the château. On beholding it, the
+unfortunate lad started violently, his features contracted, then became
+even more gloomy, and with his elbows still resting on the window-sill
+he lapsed into a gloomy reverie.
+
+So great was his preoccupation that he did not see or hear another
+person enter the room, a stranger, who, with a book in his hand, seated
+himself in a corner of the room without taking any notice of the youth.
+
+Henri David, for that was the name of the newcomer, was a tall, slender
+man about thirty-five years of age. His strong features, embrowned by
+long exposure to the heat of the tropical sun, had a peculiar charm,
+due, perhaps, to an expression of habitual melancholy. His broad, rather
+high forehead, framed with wavy brown hair, seemed to indicate
+reflective habits, and his bright, dark eyes, surmounted by fine arched
+eyebrows, had a penetrating, though thoughtful expression.
+
+This gentleman, who had just returned from a long journey, had been
+spending several days at the house of Doctor Dufour, his most intimate
+friend, but was to leave that same evening for Nantes to make
+preparation for another and even more extended journey.
+
+Frederick, still leaning on the window-sill, never once took his eyes
+off the castle; and after a few moments Henri David, having laid his
+book on his knee, doubtless to reflect upon what he had just been
+reading, raised his head and for the first time really noticed the lad
+whose side-face was distinctly visible from where he sat. He gave a
+sudden start, and it was evident that the sight of the youth evoked some
+sad and at the same time precious memory in his heart, for two tears
+glittered in the eyes that were fixed upon Frederick; then, passing his
+hand across his brow as if to drive away these painful recollections, he
+began to watch the boy with profound interest as he noted, not without
+surprise, the gloomy, almost heart-broken expression of his face.
+
+The youth's eyes remained so persistently fixed upon the château that
+David said to himself:
+
+"What bitter thoughts does the sight of the Château de Pont Brillant
+evoke in the mind of this pale, handsome youth that he cannot take his
+eyes off it?"
+
+David's attention was suddenly diverted by the blare of trumpets still a
+long way off but evidently approaching the mall, and a few minutes
+afterward this promenade was thronged with a crowd, eager to see the
+cortège of hunters organised in honour of St. Hubert by the young
+marquis.
+
+The expectations of the crowd were not disappointed. The shrill notes of
+the trumpets sounded louder and louder, and a brilliant cavalcade
+appeared at the end of the mall.
+
+The procession began with four whippers-in on horseback, in buckskin
+jackets and breeches, with scarlet collars and facings richly trimmed
+with silver braid, with cocked hats on their heads and hunting knives in
+their belts. They also carried bugles, upon which they alternately
+sounded the calls for the advance and retreat of the hounds.
+
+Then came fully one hundred magnificent hunting dogs of English breed,
+wearing upon their collars, still in honour of St. Hubert, big knots of
+fawn-coloured and scarlet ribbon.
+
+Six keepers on foot, also in livery, with knee-breeches, silk stockings,
+and shoes with big silver buckles, also with hunting knives, followed
+the pack, responding with their horns to the bugles of the huntsmen.
+
+[Illustration: "THE PROCESSION BEGAN."]
+
+A hunting fourgon, drawn by two horses driven tandem, served as a
+funeral-car for a magnificent stag reposing upon a bed of green
+branches, with his enormous antlers adorned with long floating ribbons.
+
+Behind this fourgon came the huntsmen, all on horseback, some in long
+scarlet redingotes, others clad out of courtesy in uniform like that
+worn by the young Marquis de Pont Brillant.
+
+Two barouches, each drawn by four magnificent horses driven by
+postilions in fawn-coloured satin jackets, followed the hunters. In one
+of these carriages was the dowager marquise as well as two young and
+beautiful women in riding-habits, with a rosette of the Pont Brillant
+colours on the left shoulder, for they had followed the chase from start
+to finish.
+
+The other barouche, as well as a mail phaeton and an elegant
+_char-à-banc_, was filled with ladies and several elderly men, who by
+reason of age had merely played the part of onlookers.
+
+A large number of superb hunters, intended to serve as relays in case of
+need, in richly emblazoned blankets and led by grooms on horseback,
+ended the cortège.
+
+The perfect taste that characterised the whole display, the perfection
+of the dogs and horses, the richness of the liveries, the distinguished
+bearing of the gentlemen, and the beauty and elegance of the ladies that
+accompanied them would have excited admiration anywhere; but for the
+denizens of the little town of Pont Brillant this cortège was a superb
+spectacle, a sort of march from an opera, where neither music, gorgeous
+costumes, nor imposing display wore lacking; so in their artless
+admiration the most enthusiastic, or perhaps the most polite of these
+townspeople,--a goodly number of them were tradespeople,--shouted,
+"Bravo, bravo, monsieur le marquis!" and clapped their hands excitedly.
+
+Unfortunately, the triumphal progress of the cortège was disturbed
+momentarily by an accident that occurred almost under the windows of M.
+Dufour's house.
+
+The reader has not forgotten the venerable steed that had brought
+Madame Bastien to Pont Brillant and that had been left standing with the
+reins upon his neck in front of the doctor's house. The faithful animal
+had always proved worthy of the confidence reposed in him heretofore,
+and would doubtless have justified it to the end had it not been for
+this unwonted display.
+
+At the first blast of the bugle, the old horse had contented himself
+with pricking up his ears, but when the procession began to pass him,
+the shrill notes of the hunting-horns, the baying of the hounds, the
+applause of the spectators, and the loud cries of the children, all
+combined to destroy the wonted composure of this aged son of toil, and
+neighing as loudly as in the palmy days of his youth, he evinced a most
+unfortunate desire to join the brilliant cortège that was crossing the
+mall.
+
+With two or three vigorous bounds, the venerable animal, dragging the
+old chaise after him, landed in the midst of the gay cavalcade, where he
+distinguished himself by standing on his hind legs and pawing the air
+with his fore feet, abandoning himself to the ebullition of joy,
+directly in front of the barouche containing the dowager marquise, who
+drew back in terror, waving her handkerchief and uttering shrill cries
+of alarm.
+
+Hearing this commotion, the young marquis glanced behind him to see what
+was the matter, then, wheeling his horse about, reached the side of his
+grandmother's carriage with a single bound, after which, with a few
+heavy blows of his riding-whip, he made the venerable but too vivacious
+work-horse realise the impertinence of this familiarity,--a hard lesson
+which was greeted with shouts of laughter and loud applause of the
+spectators.
+
+As for the poor old horse, regretting doubtless the breach of confidence
+of which he had been guilty, he humbly returned of his own accord to the
+doctor's door, while the hunting cortège proceeded on its way.
+
+Frederick Bastien, from the window where he was standing, had witnessed
+the entire scene.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When the cortège entered the mall, Frederick's countenance and
+expression underwent such a strange transformation that David, who had
+started toward the window on hearing the notes of the bugle, suddenly
+paused, forgetting everything else in his surprise, for the lad's face,
+in spite of its beauty, had become almost frightful in its expression.
+The bitter smile which had curved Frederick's lips while he was gazing
+at the distant château was succeeded by an expression of disdain when
+the cortège appeared, but when Raoul de Pont Brillant, clad in his
+costly hunting-suit and mounted on a magnificent jet black steed, passed
+amid the admiring plaudits of the crowd, Frederick's face became livid,
+and he clutched the window so violently that the veins, blue in his
+hands, stood out like whipcords under the white skin.
+
+None of these details had escaped the notice of Henri David, who had had
+a wide experience with his kind, and his heart sank within him as he
+said to himself:
+
+"Poor boy! to feel the pangs of hatred so early, for I cannot doubt that
+it is hatred he feels for that other lad on the handsome black horse!
+But what can be the cause of it?"
+
+Henri David was asking himself this question when the little contretemps
+in which the old work-horse had played such a prominent part occurred.
+
+On seeing his horse beaten, Frederick's face became terrible. His eyes
+dilated with anger, and, with a cry of rage, he would in his blind fury
+have precipitated himself from the window to run after the marquis, if
+he had not been prevented by David, who seized him about the waist.
+
+The surprise this occasioned recalled Frederick to himself, but,
+recovering a little from his astonishment, he demanded, in a voice
+trembling with anger:
+
+"Who are you, monsieur, and why do you touch me?"
+
+"You were leaning so far out of the window, my boy, that I feared you
+would fall," replied David, gently. "I wanted to prevent such a
+calamity."
+
+"Who told you it would be a calamity?" retorted the youth.
+
+Then turning abruptly away, he threw himself in an armchair, buried his
+face in his hands, and began to weep.
+
+David's interest and curiosity were becoming more and more excited as he
+gazed with tender compassion at this unfortunate youth who seemed now as
+utterly crushed as he had been violently excited a short time before.
+
+Suddenly the door opened, and Madame Bastien appeared, accompanied by
+the doctor.
+
+"Where is my son?" asked Marie, glancing around the room, without even
+seeing David.
+
+Madame Bastien could not see her son, the armchair in which he had
+thrown himself being concealed by the door that had been thrown open.
+
+On seeing this beautiful young woman, who looked scarcely twenty, as we
+have said before, and whose features bore such a striking resemblance to
+Frederick's, David remained for a moment speechless with surprise and
+admiration, to which was added a profound interest when he learned that
+this was the mother of the youth for whom he already felt such a sincere
+compassion.
+
+"Where is my son?" repeated Madame Bastien, advancing farther into the
+room and gazing around her with evident anxiety.
+
+"The poor child is there," said David, in a low tone, at the same time
+motioning the anxious parent to look behind the door.
+
+There was so much sympathy and kindness in David's face as well as in
+the tone in which he uttered the words, that though Marie had been
+astonished at first at the sight of the stranger, she said to him now as
+if she had known him always:
+
+"Good Heavens! what is the matter? Has anything happened to him?"
+
+"Ah, mother," suddenly replied the youth, who had taken advantage of the
+moment during which he had been hidden from Madame Bastien's sight to
+wipe away his tears. Then bowing with a distrait air to Doctor Dufour,
+whom he had always treated with such affectionate cordiality before,
+Frederick approached his mother and said:
+
+"Come, mother, let us go."
+
+"Frederick," exclaimed Marie, seizing her son's hands and anxiously
+scrutinising his features, "Frederick, you have been weeping."
+
+"No," he responded, stamping his foot impatiently, and roughly
+disengaging his hands from his mother's grasp. "Come, let us go, I say."
+
+"But he has been weeping, has he not, monsieur?" again turning to David
+with a half-questioning, half-frightened air.
+
+"Well, yes, I have been weeping," replied Frederick, with a sarcastic
+smile, "weeping for gratitude, for this gentleman here," pointing to
+David, "prevented me from falling out of the window. Now, mother, you
+know all. Come, let us go."
+
+And Frederick turned abruptly toward the door.
+
+Doctor Dufour, no less surprised and grieved than Madame Bastien, turned
+to David.
+
+"My friend, what does this mean?" he asked.
+
+"Monsieur," added Marie, also turning to the doctor's friend,
+embarrassed and distressed at the poor opinion this stranger must have
+formed of Frederick, "I have no idea what my son means. I do not know
+what has happened, but I must beg you, monsieur, to excuse him."
+
+"It is I who should ask to be excused, madame," replied David, with a
+kindly smile. "Seeing your son leaning imprudently far out of the window
+just now, I made the mistake of treating him like a schoolboy. He is
+proud of his sixteen summers, as he should be, for at that age,"
+continued David, with gentle gravity, "one is almost a man, and must
+fully understand and appreciate all the charm and happiness of a
+mother's love."
+
+"Monsieur!" exclaimed Frederick, impetuously, his nostrils quivering
+with anger, and a deep flush suffusing his pale face, "I need no lesson
+from you."
+
+And turning on his heel, he left the room.
+
+"Frederick!" cried Marie, reproachfully, but her son was gone; so
+turning her lovely face, down which tears were now streaming, to David,
+she said, with touching artlessness:
+
+"Ah, monsieur, I must again ask your pardon. Your kind words lead me to
+hope that you will understand my regret, and that you will not blame my
+unhappy son too severely."
+
+"He is evidently suffering, and should be pitied and soothed," replied
+David, sympathisingly. "When I first saw him I was startled by his
+pallor and the drawn appearance of his features. But he has gone,
+madame, and I would advise you not to leave him by himself."
+
+"Come, madame, come at once," said Doctor Dufour, offering his arm to
+Madame Bastien, and the latter, divided between the surprise the
+stranger's kindness excited and the intense anxiety she felt in regard
+to her son, left the room precipitately in company with the doctor to
+overtake Frederick.
+
+On being left alone, David walked to the window. A moment afterward, he
+saw Madame Bastien come out of the house with her handkerchief to her
+eyes and leaning on the doctor, and step into the shabby little vehicle
+in which Frederick had already seated himself amid the laughs and sneers
+of the crowd that lingered on the mall, and that had witnessed the old
+work-horse's misadventure.
+
+"That old nag won't forget the lesson the young marquis gave him for
+some time, I'll be bound," remarked one lounger.
+
+"Wasn't he a sight when he planted himself with that old rattletrap of a
+chaise right in the midst of our young marquis's fine carriages?"
+remarked another.
+
+"Yes, the old plug won't forget St. Hubert's Day in a hurry, I guess,"
+added a third.
+
+"Nor shall I forget it," muttered Frederick, trembling with rage.
+
+At that moment the doctor assisted Madame Bastien into the vehicle, and
+Frederick, exasperated by the coarse jests he had just overheard, struck
+the innocent cause of all this commotion a furious blow, and the poor
+old horse, unused to such treatment, started off almost on a run.
+
+In vain Madame Bastien implored her son to moderate the animal's pace.
+Several persons narrowly escaped being run over. A child who was slow in
+getting out of the way received a cut of the whip from Frederick, and
+whirling rapidly around the corner at the end of the mall, the chaise
+disappeared from sight amid the jeers and execrations of the angry
+crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+After he had escorted Marie to her carriage Doctor Dufour reëntered the
+house and found his friend still standing thoughtfully by the window.
+
+On hearing the door open and close, David awoke from his reverie and
+turned toward the doctor, who, thinking of the painful scene which they
+had just witnessed, exclaimed, referring of course to Madame Bastien:
+
+"Poor woman! poor woman!"
+
+"The young woman does indeed seem greatly to be pitied," remarked David.
+
+"Far more than you think, for she lives only for her son; so you can
+judge how she must suffer."
+
+"Her son? Why, I thought he was her brother. She doesn't look a day over
+twenty. She must have married very young."
+
+"At the age of fifteen."
+
+"And how beautiful she is!" remarked Henri, after a moment's silence.
+"Her loveliness, too, is of an unusual type,--the at once virginal and
+maternal beauty that gives Raphael's virgin mothers such a divine
+character."
+
+"Virgin mothers! The words are peculiarly appropriate in this
+connection. I will tell you Madame Bastien's story. I feel sure that it
+will interest you."
+
+"You are right, my friend. It will give me food for thought during my
+travels."
+
+"M. Fierval," began the doctor, "was the only son of a well-to-do banker
+of Angers; but several unfortunate speculations involved him deeply,
+financially. Among his business friends was a real estate agent named
+Jacques Bastien, who was a native of this town and the son of a notary.
+When M. Fierval became embarrassed, Bastien, who had considerable ready
+money, gave him valuable pecuniary assistance. Marie was fifteen at the
+time, beautiful, and, like nearly all the daughters of thrifty
+provincials, brought up like a sort of upper servant in the house."
+
+"What you say amazes me. Madame Bastien's manners are so refined. She
+has such an air of distinction--"
+
+"In short, you see nothing to indicate any lack of early education in
+her."
+
+"Quite the contrary."
+
+"You are right; but you would not be so much surprised if you had
+witnessed the numerous metamorphoses in Madame Bastien that I have.
+Though she was so young she made a sufficiently deep impression upon our
+real estate man for him to come to me one day, and say:
+
+"'I want to do a very foolish thing, that is to marry a young girl, but
+what makes the thing a little less idiotic, perhaps, is that the girl I
+have in view, though extremely pretty, has very little education, though
+she is a capital housewife. She goes to market with her father's cook,
+makes delicious pickles and preserves, and hasn't her equal in mending
+and darning.' Six weeks afterward, Marie, in spite of her aversion, and
+in spite of her tears and entreaties, yielded to her father's inexorable
+will, and became Madame Bastien."
+
+"Was Bastien himself aware of the repugnance he inspired?"
+
+"Perfectly; and this repugnance, by the way, was only too well
+justified, for Bastien, who was then forty-two years old, was as ugly as
+I am, to say the least, but had the constitution of a bull,--a sort of
+Farnese Hercules he was, in short,--though much more inclined to
+embonpoint, as he is an immense eater, and not at all cleanly in his
+personal habits. So much for him physically. Mentally, he is coarse,
+ignorant, arrogant, and bigoted, insufferably proud of the money he has
+amassed. Strongly inclined to avarice, he thinks he is treating his wife
+very liberally by allowing her one servant, a gardener, who acts as a
+Jack-of-all-trades on the place, and an old work-horse to take her to
+town now and then. The only good thing about Bastien is that his
+business keeps him away about three-quarters of the time, for he buys
+large tracts of land all over the country, and, after dividing them up,
+sells these subdivisions to small farmers. When he does return to his
+present home, a farm which proved a poor investment, and which he has
+been unable to dispose of, he devotes his time to making as much money
+out of it as he can, getting up at sunrise to watch his crops put in,
+and returning only at night to sup voraciously, drink like a fish, and
+fall into a drunken sleep."
+
+"You are right, Pierre, this poor woman is much more unfortunate than I
+supposed. What a husband for such a charming creature! But men like this
+Bastien, who are endowed with the appetites of the brute combined with
+the instinct of rapacity, are at least excessively fond of their wives
+and their young. M. Bastien at least loves his wife and son, does he
+not?"
+
+"As for his wife, your comparison of a virgin mother was singularly
+appropriate, as I remarked a few minutes ago. A day or two after his
+marriage, Bastien, who has always persecuted me with his confidences,
+said, sullenly: 'If I were to yield to that prudish wife of mine I
+should remain a bachelor husband all the rest of my life.' And it would
+seem that he has been obliged to, for, alluding to his son, he remarked
+one day, 'It is a good thing for me I had a child when I did, but for
+that I should never have had one.' In his anger at finding himself
+rebuffed, he tried to punish poor Marie for the repugnance he had
+inspired, but which he has been entirely unable to overcome, though he
+has resorted to brutality, to violence, and even to blows; for when this
+man is intoxicated he has not the slightest control over himself."
+
+"Why, this is infamous!"
+
+"Yes; and when I indignantly reproached him, he said: 'Nonsense. She is
+my wife, and the law is on my side. I didn't marry to remain a bachelor,
+and no slip of a girl like that is going to get the better of me.' And
+yet he has had to yield, for brute force cannot overcome a woman's
+aversion and loathing, particularly when the woman is endowed with
+remarkable strength of will like Marie Bastien. At first he intended to
+live in Blois, but his wife's resistance changed his plans. 'If this is
+the way she is going to act,' he said to me one day, 'she shall pay
+dearly for it. I have a farm near Pont Brillant. She shall live there
+alone on one hundred francs a month.' And he was as good as his word.
+Marie accepted the pinched and lonely life Bastien imposed upon her with
+courage and resignation, though Bastien did his best to make her
+existence as miserable as possible, until he learned that she was
+enceinte. After that he became a little more lenient, for though he
+still left Marie at the farm, he allowed her to make a few inexpensive
+changes, which, thanks to Madame Bastien's good taste, have quite
+transformed the abode. The amiability and many virtues of his charming
+wife seem to have wrought some slight improvement in Bastien, for though
+he is still coarse, he seems to be rather less of a brute, and to have
+decided to make the best of his life of a bachelor husband. 'Well,
+doctor, I was born lucky after all,' he remarked to me, not very long
+ago. 'My wife is living, and I am not sorry for it on the whole. She is
+sweet-tempered and patient and economical, and I never give her a penny
+except for household expenses, yet she seems perfectly contented. She
+never sets foot off the farm, and seems to think only of her son. On the
+other hand, if my wife should die I should not be inconsolable, for, as
+you must understand yourself, to be a married man and yet have to lead a
+bachelor life has its objections as well as being very expensive; so
+whether my wife lives or dies I have no cause to complain. That was what
+I meant when I told you just now that I was really born lucky, after
+all.'"
+
+"And his son, does he seem to really care anything about him?" inquired
+Henri, more and more interested.
+
+"Bastien is one of those fathers who consider that a parent should
+always be crabbed and angry and fault-finding, so, during his rare
+sojourns at the farm, where he evinces more interest in his cattle than
+in his son, he always finds a means of incensing his child against him.
+The natural result of all this is that Bastien has no place in the lives
+of his wife and son. And, speaking of Frederick's education, I must tell
+you another of those admirable metamorphoses that maternal love has
+effected in Madame Bastien."
+
+"Pray do, Pierre," said Henri, earnestly. "You have no idea how much
+this interests me."
+
+"Reared as I have described, and married at the age of fifteen,"
+continued the doctor, "Marie Bastien had received a very imperfect
+education, though she was really endowed with an unusual amount of
+intellectual ability. But when she became a mother, realising the
+importance of the duties devolving upon her, Marie, inconsolable at her
+ignorance, resolved to acquire in four or five years all the knowledge
+necessary to enable her to undertake her child's education, which she
+was determined to entrust to no one else."
+
+"And this resolve?" inquired David.
+
+"Was faithfully carried out. When she first broached the subject to
+Bastien he scoffed at the idea, but when Marie told him that she was
+determined not to be separated from her son, and reminded him how
+expensive it would be to have teachers come out to the farm from Pont
+Brillant and later from Blois, Bastien concluded that his wife might be
+right, after all, and consented to the arrangement. Fortunately Marie
+found in a young Englishwoman a treasure of knowledge, intelligence, and
+kindheartedness. Miss Harriet, for that was her name, appreciating and
+admiring this rare example of maternal devotion, devoted herself body
+and soul to her mission, and, ably assisted by the natural talent and
+untiring industry of her pupil, in four years she had imparted to the
+young mother a thorough acquaintance with history, geography, and
+literature. Madame Bastien had also become a sufficiently good musician
+to teach her son music. She had also acquired a fair knowledge of the
+English language, a sufficient knowledge of drawing to be able to teach
+Frederick to draw from nature. He profited wonderfully well by these
+lessons, for few boys of his age are equally far advanced or so
+thoroughly grounded, and his mother certainly had good cause to feel
+proud of the effects both of her training and teaching, when she
+suddenly perceived a strange change in him."
+
+The doctor was here interrupted by the entrance of the old servant, who,
+addressing her master, said:
+
+"Monsieur, I came to warn you that the diligence for Nantes will pass at
+six o'clock, and they have come for M. David's baggage."
+
+"Very well, they can take it, and will you ask them to be good enough to
+inform me when the diligence arrives?"
+
+"Yes, M. David." Then, with an expression of artless regret, she added:
+
+"Is it really true that you are going to leave us, M. David? Is it
+possible that you are going to let your friend go?" she added, turning
+to the doctor.
+
+"Do you hear that?" asked M. Dufour, smiling sadly. "I am not the only
+person who regrets your departure, you see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+After the servant's departure, Henri David, still under the painful
+impression which his friend's revelations on the subject of Marie
+Bastien had produced, remained silent for several minutes.
+
+Doctor Dufour, too, was silent and thoughtful, for the servant's
+announcement had reminded him that he was soon to be separated from his
+dearest friend, perhaps for years.
+
+Henri was the first to speak.
+
+"You were right, Pierre, I shall take away with me a delightful
+recollection of this charming Madame Bastien. What you have just told me
+will often be a subject of pleasant thought to me, and--"
+
+"I understand you, Henri, and you must forgive me for not having thought
+of it sooner," exclaimed the doctor, noting his friend's emotion, "the
+sight of this youth must remind you--"
+
+"Yes, the sight of this youth does remind me of one I can never forget,
+my poor Fernand," said Henri, seeing the doctor hesitate. "He was about
+Frederick's age, so it is only natural that this handsome boy should
+excite my interest, an interest which is naturally increased by the
+admiration I feel for his brave and devoted mother. Heaven grant that,
+after all her love and devotion, her son is not going to be a
+disappointment to her. But how is it that, after he has been reared with
+such care and solicitude, he should now give his mother such grave cause
+for anxiety?"
+
+"The fact is that this lad, whom you have just seen so pale and thin
+and sullen and irascible, was full of health and gaiety and good humour
+only a few months ago. Then the relations that existed between his
+mother and himself were of the most charming as well as affectionate
+character imaginable, while his generosity of heart could not have
+failed to excite your liveliest admiration."
+
+"Poor boy," said Henri David, compassionately. "I believe you, Pierre,
+for there is such an expression of sadness and bitterness on his
+handsome face. It is evident that he is not bad at heart. It seems to me
+more as if he were suffering from some secret malady," added Henri,
+thoughtfully. "How strange it is that there should be such a remarkable
+change in him in so short a time!"
+
+"I cannot understand it myself," replied the doctor, "for heart and mind
+and body all seem to have been attacked at the same time. A short time
+ago study was a pleasure to Frederick, his imagination was brilliant,
+his mental faculties almost precocious in their development. All this is
+changed now, and about a month ago his mother, distressed at the state
+of apathy into which her son had so suddenly relapsed, decided to employ
+a tutor for him, hoping that a change of instructors and new branches of
+study, more especially those of natural science, would act as a sort of
+stimulant."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"At the end of a week the tutor, disgusted with Frederick's dullness,
+rudeness, and violence, left the house."
+
+"But to what do you attribute this remarkable change?"
+
+"I thought and still think that it is due to natural or rather physical
+causes. There are many instances of similar crises in youths on
+attaining the age of puberty. It is a time of life when the salient
+traits of character begin to manifest themselves, when the man
+succeeding the youth begins to show what he is going to be some day.
+This metamorphosis nearly always causes serious disturbance throughout
+the entire system, and it is quite probable that Frederick is now under
+the influence of this phenomenon."
+
+"Doesn't this very plausible explanation reassure Madame Bastien?"
+
+"One can never entirely reassure a mother, at least a mother like that.
+The reasons I gave her calmed her fears for awhile, but the trouble
+increased and she took fright again. In her interview with me just now
+she made no attempt to disguise her fears, and even accused herself of
+being to blame for the recent state of things. 'I am his mother and yet
+I cannot divine what is the matter with him, so I certainly must be
+lacking in penetration and in maternal instinct. I am his mother, and
+yet he will not tell me the cause of the trouble that is killing him. It
+is my fault. It must be. I cannot have been a good mother. A mother has
+always done something wrong if she cannot succeed in gaining her child's
+confidence.'"
+
+"Poor woman!" exclaimed Henri. "She wrongs herself, though, in
+considering her maternal instinct in fault."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, doesn't her instinct warn her that you are wrong, plausible as
+your explanation of her son's condition is, for, in spite of her
+confidence in you, and in spite of the desire she feels to be reassured,
+your assurances have not calmed her fears."
+
+Then, after sitting silent and thoughtful for a moment, Henri asked:
+
+"Is that large building we see there in the distance the Château de Pont
+Brillant?"
+
+"Yes. Its owner, the young marquis, was in the party that passed just
+now. But why do you ask?"
+
+"Does Madame Bastien's son visit there?"
+
+"Oh, no. The Pont Brillants are a very proud and aristocratic family,
+and associate only with the nobility."
+
+"So Frederick does not even know the young marquis?"
+
+"If he does, it is only by sight, for I repeat the young marquis is much
+too proud to have anything to do with a youth of Frederick's humble
+station."
+
+"Is this family popular?" inquired Henri David, more and more
+thoughtfully.
+
+"The Pont Brillants are immensely rich, nearly all the land for six or
+seven leagues around belongs to them. They own, too, most of the houses
+in this little town. The tradespeople, too, are of course largely
+dependent upon their patronage, so this powerful family command at least
+a strong show of respect and attachment. There is also a certain amount
+of money given to the poor every year by the family. The mayor and the
+curé distribute it, however. The young marquis has nothing more to do
+with that than his grandmother, whose skepticism and cynicism make Baron
+Holbach's atheism seem pale by comparison. But why do you ask all these
+questions in relation to the château and its occupants?"
+
+"Because just now when I was alone with Frederick I thought I discovered
+that he hated this young marquis with a deadly hatred."
+
+"Frederick?" exclaimed the doctor, with quite as much surprise as
+incredulity. "That is impossible. I am sure he never spoke to M. de Pont
+Brillant in his life. So how could he possibly feel any such animosity
+against the young marquis?"
+
+"I do not know, but I am sure, from what I have seen, that he does."
+
+"What you have seen?"
+
+"The horse that brought Frederick and his mother here, not being
+hitched, evinced an intention of joining the brillant cortège as it
+passed. The young marquis struck it a heavy blow with his whip and drove
+it back, and if I had not restrained Frederick, he would have jumped
+out of the window and flown at M. de Pont Brillant."
+
+"So it was in order not to frighten Madame Bastien you told us--"
+
+"That Frederick had imprudently leaned too far out of the window. Yes,
+Pierre, I repeat it, I did not lose a gesture or the slightest change of
+expression in the poor boy's face. It is hatred, a deadly hatred, that
+he feels for the other youth."
+
+"But I tell you that Madame Bastien's son has never even spoken to Raoul
+de Pont Brillant. They live in two entirely different worlds. They can
+never have come in the slightest contact with each other."
+
+"True. Your reasoning seems perfectly just, and I suppose I ought to
+acquiesce," replied Henri David, thoughtfully. "Nevertheless, something
+tells me that I am right, and now I almost begin to regret having met
+this charming woman, for the very reason that she and her son have
+inspired me with such a deep interest."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Frankly, my friend, what can be more sad than to feel a commiseration
+as profound as it is futile? Who could be more worthy of sympathy and
+respect than this most unhappily married woman, who has lived even
+cheerfully for years in almost complete solitude, uncomplainingly, with
+a son as handsome, sensible, and intelligent as herself? And suddenly at
+one fell swoop this life is blighted; the mother watches with growing
+despair the progress of the mysterious malady the cause of which she has
+striven in vain to discover. Ah, I can understand only too well the
+agony of an experience like hers, for I too loved my poor Fernand almost
+to idolatry," continued Henri, scarcely able to restrain his tears, "and
+to me this utter powerlessness in the presence of an evil one deeply
+deplores has always been a source of torture, almost of remorse, to
+me."
+
+"Yes, that is true," replied the doctor. "How often you said almost the
+very same thing in the letters you wrote me during your long and
+dangerous journeys, undertaken with such a noble object, but at the same
+time with the necessity of authenticating the most frightful facts, the
+most barbarous customs, the most atrocious laws, though realising all
+the while that this state of things must go on for years, and perhaps
+even for centuries, unhindered. Yes, yes, I can understand how it must
+try a soul like yours to see evils which it is impossible to assuage."
+
+The clock in a neighbouring church struck three quarters past five.
+
+"My dear friend, we have but a few minutes left," remarked Henri,
+holding out his hand to the doctor, who was unable to speak for awhile,
+so great was his emotion.
+
+"Alas! my dear Henri," he said at last, "I ought to have accustomed
+myself to the idea of your departure, but you see my courage fails me
+after all."
+
+"Nonsense, Pierre, I shall see you again in less than two years. This
+voyage will probably be the last I shall undertake, and then I am coming
+to take up my abode near you."
+
+"Monsieur, monsieur, the Nantes diligence is coming in," cried the old
+servant, rushing into the room. "You haven't a minute to lose."
+
+"Farewell, Pierre," said Henri, clasping his friend in a last embrace.
+
+"Farewell. God grant we may meet again, my dear Henri."
+
+A few minutes afterward, Henri David was on his way to Nantes, from
+which port he was to start on an expedition to Central Africa.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+One more drop makes the cup run over, says the proverb. In like manner,
+the scene that had occurred on the mall at Pont Brillant on St. Hubert's
+Day had caused the rancour that filled Frederick Bastien's heart to
+overflow.
+
+In the chastisement which the young marquis had inflicted upon his
+horse, Frederick saw an insult, or rather a pretext, that would enable
+him to manifest his hatred toward Raoul de Pont Brillant.
+
+After a night spent in gloomy reflections, Madame Bastien's son wrote
+the following note:
+
+     "If you are not a coward, you will come to Grand Sire's Rock
+     to-morrow morning with your gun loaded. I shall have mine. Come
+     alone, I shall be alone.
+
+     "I hate you. You shall know my name when I have told you to your
+     face the reason of my hatred.
+
+     "Grand Sire's Rock stands in a lonely part of your forest. I shall
+     be there all the morning, and all day if necessary, waiting for
+     you: so you will have no excuse for failing to come."
+
+This absurd effusion can be explained only by Frederick's youth and
+intense animosity, as well as his utter lack of experience and the
+isolation in which he had lived.
+
+This effusion written and posted, the youth feigned unusual calmness all
+day, so no one would suspect his designs.
+
+When night came, he told Madame Bastien that he felt very tired and
+intended to stay in bed all the next forenoon, and that he did not want
+any one to come to his room until after he got up; so the mother, hoping
+rest would prove beneficial to her son, promised his request should be
+complied with.
+
+At daybreak Frederick cautiously made his escape through his bedroom
+window and hastened to the place of rendezvous. As he approached it his
+heart throbbed with ferocious ardour, feeling confident that Raoul de
+Pont Brillant would hasten to avenge the insult contained in this
+insulting note he had received.
+
+"He shall kill me, or I will kill him," Frederick said to himself. "If
+he kills me, so much the better. What is the use of dragging out a life
+poisoned with envy? If I kill him--"
+
+He shuddered at the thought, then, ashamed of his weakness, he
+continued:
+
+"If I kill him, it will be better yet. He will cease to enjoy the
+pleasures and luxuries that arouse my envy. If I kill him," added the
+unfortunate youth, trying to justify this bloodthirsty resolve on his
+part, "his luxury will no longer flaunt itself before my poverty and the
+poverty of many others who are even more to be pitied than I am."
+
+The name of Grand Sire's Rock had been bestowed centuries before on a
+pile of big granite boulders only a short distance from one of the least
+frequented paths in the forest, and, as a number of large chestnut and
+pine trees had sprung up between the moss-covered rocks, it was a wild
+and lonely spot, well suited for a hostile meeting.
+
+Frederick deposited his gun in a sort of natural grotto formed by a deep
+opening half concealed by a thick curtain of ivy. This spot was only
+about forty yards from the road by which the marquis must come if he
+came at all, so Frederick stationed himself in a place where he could
+see quite a distance down the road without being seen.
+
+One hour, two hours, three hours passed and Raoul de Pont Brillant did
+not come.
+
+Unable to believe that the young marquis could have scorned his
+challenge, Frederick, in his feverish impatience, devised all sorts of
+excuses for his adversary's delay. He had not received the letter until
+that morning; he had doubtless been obliged to do some manoeuvring to be
+able to go out alone; possibly he had preferred to wait until nearer
+evening.
+
+Once Frederick, thinking of his mother and of her despair, said to
+himself that perhaps in less than an hour he would have ceased to live.
+
+This gloomy reflection rather weakened his resolution for a moment, but
+he soon said to himself:
+
+"It will be better for me to die. My death will cost my mother fewer
+tears than my life, judging from those I have already compelled her to
+shed."
+
+While he was thus awaiting the arrival of the marquis, a carriage that
+had left the château about three o'clock in the afternoon paused at the
+intersection of the footpath not far from the so-called Grand Sire's
+Rock.
+
+When this low, roomy equipage drawn by two magnificent horses stopped at
+the cross-roads, two tall, powdered footmen descended from their perch,
+and one of them opened the carriage door, through which the
+Dowager-Marquise de Pont Brillant alighted quite nimbly in spite of her
+eighty-eight years; after which another woman, quite as old as the
+dowager, also stepped out.
+
+The other footman, taking one of the folding-chairs which invalids or
+very old people often use during their walks, was preparing to follow
+the two octogenarians when the marquise said, in a clear though rather
+quavering voice:
+
+"Remain with the carriage, which will wait for me here. Give the
+folding-chair to Zerbinette."
+
+To answer to the coquettish, pert name of Zerbinette at the age of
+eighty-seven seems odd indeed, but when she entered the service of her
+foster-sister, the charming Marquise de Pont Brillant, seventy years
+before, as assistant hair-dresser, her retroussé nose, pert manner, big,
+roguish eyes, provoking smile, trim waist, small foot, and dimpled hand
+richly entitled her to the sobriquet bestowed upon her at that time by
+the marquise, who, married direct from the convent at the age of
+sixteen, was already considerably more than flirtatious, and who, struck
+by her assistant hair-dresser's boldness of spirit and unusual
+adaptability for intrigue, soon made Zerbinette her chief maid and
+confidante.
+
+Heaven only knows the good times and larks of every sort this pair had
+enjoyed in their palmy days, and the devotion, presence of mind, and
+fertility of resource Zerbinette had displayed in assisting her mistress
+to deceive the three or four lovers she had had at one time.
+
+The deceased husband of the marquise need be mentioned only incidentally
+in this connection; in the first place because one did not take the
+trouble to deceive a husband in those days, and in the second place
+because the high and mighty seigneur
+Hector-Magnifique-Raoul-Urbain-Anne-Cloud-Frumence, Lord Marquis of Pont
+Brillant and half a dozen other places, was too much of a man of his
+time to interfere with madame, his wife, in the least.
+
+From this constant exchange of confidences on the part of the marquise
+and of services of every sort and kind on the part of Zerbinette there
+had resulted a decided intimacy between mistress and maid. They never
+left each other, they had grown old together, and their chief pleasure
+now consisted in talking over the escapades and love affairs of former
+years, and it must be admitted that each day had its saint in their
+calendar.
+
+The dowager-marquise was small, thin, wrinkled, but very straight. She
+dressed in the most elaborate fashion and was always redolent with
+perfumes. She wore her hair crimped and powdered, and there was a bright
+red spot on each cheek that increased the brilliancy of her large black
+eyes, which were still bold and lustrous in spite of her advanced age.
+She carried a small gold-headed ivory cane, and a richly jewelled
+snuff-box from which she regaled herself from time to time.
+
+Zerbinette, who was a little taller than her mistress, but equally thin,
+wore her white hair in curls, and was attired with simple elegance.
+
+"Zerbinette," said the dowager, after turning to take another look at
+the footman who had opened the carriage door, "who is that tall,
+handsome fellow? I don't remember to have seen him before."
+
+"I doubt if you have, madame. He was just sent down from Paris."
+
+"He's a fine-shaped fellow. Did you notice what broad shoulders he has,
+Zerbinette? Handsome lackeys always remind me"--the marquise paused to
+take a pinch of snuff--"handsome lackeys always remind me of that little
+devil the Baroness de Montbrison."
+
+"Madame la marquise has forgotten. It was the French Guards the
+baroness--"
+
+"You are right, and the Duc de Biron, their colonel--You remember M. de
+Biron, don't you?"
+
+"I should think I did. You had a pass-key to his little house on the
+Boulevard des Poissonniers, and for your first rendezvous you dressed in
+the costume of Diana, the huntress, exactly as in that handsome pastel
+portrait of yourself. And how beautiful, ravishingly beautiful, you
+looked in the costume, with your slim waist and white shoulders and
+gleaming eyes!"
+
+"Yes, my girl, yes. I had all those, and I made a good use of what the
+Lord gave me. But to return to my story; you are right, Zerbinette, in
+regard to the little baroness, it was the French Guards she went so
+crazy about, so much so, in fact, that M. de Biron, their colonel, went
+to the king and complained that his regiment was being ruined. 'I can't
+have that,' replied the king, 'I want my French Guards for myself.
+Montbrison got money enough by his wife to buy a regiment for her if she
+wants it.'"
+
+"Unfortunately, M. de Montbrison was not a sufficiently gallant
+gentleman to do that. And speaking of handsome lackeys, madame must be
+thinking of Président de Lunel's wife, for--"
+
+"Lunel!" exclaimed the dowager, pausing and glancing around her. "Say,
+we are not far from Grand Sire's Rock, are we?"
+
+"No, madame."
+
+"I thought not. Do you remember that story of the osprey and poor
+Président de Lunel?"
+
+"I only remember that monsieur le président was as jealous as all
+possessed of the Chevalier de Bretteville, and he had good cause to be.
+So it used to afford madame no end of amusement to invite them both to
+the castle at the same time."
+
+"Yes, and that was what reminded me of that affair of the osprey."
+
+"I really have no idea what you mean."
+
+"Ah, Zerbinette, you are growing old."
+
+"Alas, yes, madame!"
+
+"Well, we might as well walk in one direction as another, so suppose we
+pay a visit to Grand Sire's Rock. The sight of the dear old rock will
+rejuvenate me. Let me see, Zerbinette," added the marquise, taking
+another pinch of snuff, "when was it that poor Lunel and the chevalier
+were--"
+
+"In October, 1779," responded Zerbinette, promptly.
+
+"Sixty-odd years ago. Come and let us go and take a look at the famous
+rock. It will make me feel young again."
+
+"Very well, madame, but won't you find the walk too fatiguing?"
+
+"I have the legs of fifteen this morning, girl, but if they should fail
+me, you have my chair, you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+As the two octogenarians started slowly down the path leading to Grand
+Sire's Rock, Zerbinette remarked to her mistress:
+
+"You were going to tell the story of the osprey, madame."
+
+"Oh, yes. You recollect how jealous Président de Lunel was of the
+chevalier. Well, one day I said to him, 'Sigismond, wouldn't you like to
+help me play a fine joke upon the chevalier?' 'I should be delighted,
+marquise.' 'But to do it, Sigismond, you must know how to imitate the
+cry of the osprey perfectly.' You can imagine the look on the
+president's face when I told him that; but when I said to him, 'Learn
+it, Sigismond, and as soon as you know it we will have a good laugh at
+the poor chevalier's expense,' he promised he would begin that very
+evening, as there were plenty of them in the neighbourhood. When the
+president had learned to imitate the cry, I made an appointment to meet
+the chevalier here at dusk. I came a little in advance of the time, in
+company with the president, whom I ensconced in the sort of cave at
+Grand Sire's Rock. 'Now, Sigismond, listen carefully to what I am going
+to say to you,' I began. 'The chevalier will soon be here. You are to
+count one thousand, so as to give him time to press his suit. I, too,
+will count a thousand, but not until we get to nine hundred and
+ninety-eight will I show any signs of softening toward the chevalier.
+Then you must begin to utter your osprey cries.' 'Capital, marquise,
+capital!' 'Hush, you bad boy, and listen to me. I shall say to the
+chevalier, "Oh, that horrid bird! I am frightfully superstitious about
+the osprey. Run to the château and get a gun to kill the hateful thing,
+and afterward we will see." The chevalier will run to get the gun, and
+then, my dear Sigismond, I will join you in the cave.' 'Really,
+marquise, you are the most charming little devil imaginable!' 'Hide,
+hide quick! here comes the chevalier.' And poor Lunel withdrew into his
+hole and began to count one, two, three, four, etc., while I went to
+join the chevalier."
+
+"I can see the dear president's face now, as he carefully counted one,
+two, three, four, while the chevalier was with you," exclaimed
+Zerbinette, laughing like mad.
+
+"All I can tell you, girl, is that though I had promised poor Lunel not
+to soften toward the chevalier until we had got to nine hundred and
+ninety-eight, I really didn't count more than ten. After awhile, the
+president, who had finished his thousand, began to play the osprey with
+all his might, and his strange, shrill, wild cries seemed to disturb the
+chevalier so much that I said:
+
+"'It is the osprey. Run to the château and get a gun to kill the horrid
+thing. I hate the abominable creature so I long to tear it in pieces
+with my own hands. Run and get the gun. I will wait for you here.' 'What
+a strange whim, marquise. It is getting very dark, and you will be
+afraid here in the forest alone.' 'Nonsense, chevalier, I am no coward.
+Run to the château and come back as soon as you can.' It was quite time,
+my girl, for when I went to the poor president, his voice had begun to
+fail him, but fortunately he was all right again in a minute."
+
+"And when the chevalier returned, madame?"
+
+"He found the president and me not far from the place where we are now.
+'You have come at last, chevalier,' I called out to him at a distance;
+'but for the president, whom I met by chance, I should have died of
+fear.' 'I told you so, marquise,' he replied. 'And the osprey, I think I
+must have frightened him off, for I haven't heard him since I met the
+marquise,' replied the president. 'But, by the way, my dear chevalier,'
+added poor Lunel, innocently, 'do you know that the cry of the osprey
+always indicates some calamity?' and as he spoke the president slyly
+squeezed my left arm. 'Yes, my dear president, I have always heard that
+the cry is prophetic of evil,' responded the chevalier, squeezing my
+right arm. Afterward, when I went crazy over that actor, Clairville, he
+and I had many a good laugh over this little affair with the president
+and the chevalier, so for a long time 'It is the osprey' was a sort of
+proverb among the people of our set."
+
+"Alas! those were fine times, madame."
+
+"Oh, hush up, Zerbinette, with your alases! Those good times will come
+again."
+
+"But when, madame?"
+
+"Why, in the next world, of course. That was what I used to nearly wear
+myself out telling Abbé Robertin, who used to go nearly crazy over those
+delicious white truffles my cousin Doria used to send me. 'Well, madame
+la marquise, it is surely better to believe in that sort of an
+immortality than in nothing at all,' he used to reply, while he went on
+cramming himself. In other words, my girl, I expect to get my girlhood
+again, and all that goes with it, when I reach paradise."
+
+"God grant it, madame," responded Zerbinette, devoutly. "Sixteen is
+certainly a delightful age."
+
+"That is exactly what I said to myself yesterday while I was watching my
+grandson. What ardour and enthusiasm he displayed during the hunt! He's
+a handsome--But look, here is Grand Sire's Rock. It was in that little
+cave that the poor president played the part of an osprey."
+
+"Don't go any closer to it, for Heaven's sake, madame. There may be some
+wild beast in it."
+
+"I thought of going in to rest awhile."
+
+"Don't think of such a thing, madame. It must be as damp as a cellar in
+there."
+
+"That's a fact, so set my chair under this oak-tree, there on the sunny
+side. That is right. Where will you find a seat, Zerbinette?"
+
+"Over there on that rock. It is a little closer to the cave than I like,
+but never mind."
+
+"We were speaking of my grandson just now. He is a handsome fellow,
+there is no doubt about it."
+
+"There is a certain viscountess who seems to be of the same opinion. It
+is always M. Raoul this, or M. Raoul that, and I have seen--"
+
+"You have seen, you have seen--Why, you see nothing at all, girl. The
+viscountess takes a little notice of the boy merely to blind her idiot
+of a husband, so he won't get mad and make a fuss when M. de Monbreuil,
+the viscountess's lover arrives, for I have invited him to come in a few
+days. There is nothing that makes a house as lively and interesting as
+to have a lot of lovers about, so I invite all I know; but it is strange
+you haven't seen through the lady's manoeuvre. I warned my grandson,
+for I feared the innocent, unsophisticated fellow might come to grief,
+the viscountess is so charming."
+
+"Innocent, unsophisticated!" exclaimed Zerbinette, shaking her head.
+"You're mistaken about that, madame, for his infatuation for the
+mistress doesn't keep him from playing the deuce with her maid."
+
+"Dear boy! Is that really true, Zerbinette? Is there anything worth
+looking at among the women the viscountess brought with her?"
+
+"There is one tall blonde with dark eyes, plump as a partridge, with a
+complexion like milk, and the loveliest figure--"
+
+"And you think that Raoul--"
+
+"You know, madame, that at his age--"
+
+"_Pardi!_" exclaimed the marquise, taking another pinch of snuff. "That
+reminds me," she continued, after a moment's reflection, "you know all
+about everybody in the neighbourhood, who is it that leads the life of a
+hermitess in that lonely farmhouse on the Pont Brillant road? You know
+the place; the house is covered with vines, and there is a porch of
+rustic work very much like that house my grandson has just been building
+for his fawns."
+
+"Oh, yes, I know, madame. It is Madame Bastien who lives there."
+
+"And who is Madame Bastien?"
+
+"Did you hear that, madame?" asked Zerbinette, breathlessly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, there in the cave. I heard something moving in there."
+
+"Nonsense, Zerbinette, how silly you are! It is the wind rustling the
+ivy leaves."
+
+"Do you really think so, madame?"
+
+"There isn't the slightest doubt of it. But, tell me, who is this Madame
+Bastien?"
+
+"She is the wife of a real estate agent. I suppose you would call him
+that, for he travels about the country buying tracts of land which he
+afterward subdivides and sells. He is scarcely ever at home."
+
+"Ah, he is scarcely ever at home, that would be a great advantage, eh,
+Zerbinette. But tell me, is it true that this little Bastien is as
+pretty as people say?"
+
+"She's a beauty, there's no doubt about it, madame. You remember Madame
+la Maréchale de Rubempré, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, and this young woman?"
+
+"Is as beautiful as she was, perhaps even more so."
+
+"And her figure?"
+
+"Is perfect."
+
+"That is what Raoul told me after he met her in the fields the other
+day. But who is that big sallow boy who was with her? Some scallawag of
+a brother probably. It might be a good idea to get him out of the way by
+giving him a position as clerk in the steward's office with a salary of
+twelve or fifteen hundred francs a year."
+
+"Good heavens, madame!" exclaimed Zerbinette, springing up in alarm,
+"there's somebody in the cave. Didn't you hear that noise?"
+
+"Yes, I heard it," replied the intrepid dowager, "what of it?"
+
+"Oh, madame, let us get away as quick as we can."
+
+"I sha'n't do anything of the kind."
+
+"But that noise, madame."
+
+"He, he!" laughed the countess. "Perhaps it is the soul of the poor
+president come back to count one, two, three, four, etc. Sit down, and
+don't interrupt me again."
+
+"You have always had the courage of a dragon, madame."
+
+"There's no cause for alarm, you goose. Some osprey or some wild animal
+may have sought shelter there. I want to know who that big hulking boy
+was that Raoul saw with that Bastien woman,--her brother, eh?"
+
+"No, madame, her son."
+
+"Her son; why, in that case--"
+
+"She was married when she was very young, and she is so admirably
+preserved that she doesn't look a day over twenty."
+
+"That must be so, for Raoul took a desperate fancy to her. 'She has big,
+dark blue eyes, grandmother,' he said to me, 'a waist one can span with
+his two hands, and features as regular as those on an antique cameo.
+Only these plebeians are so little versed in the customs of good society
+that this one opened her big eyes in astonishment, merely because I was
+polite enough to take her a mantle she had dropped.' 'If she is as
+pretty as you say, you young simpleton, you ought to have kept the
+mantle, and taken it to her house. That would have gained you an
+entrance there.' 'But, grandmother,' replied the dear boy, very
+sensibly, 'it was by returning the mantle I found out that she was so
+pretty.'"
+
+"Oh, well, M. Raoul could easily have gone to her house a few days
+afterward. She would have been delighted to see him, even if it were
+only to make all the _bourgeoisie_ in the country, wild with envy."
+
+"That is exactly what I told the dear child, but he did not dare to
+venture."
+
+"Give him a little time, and he'll get his courage up, never fear."
+
+"I tell you, my girl," resumed the dowager, after quite a long silence,
+as she slowly and thoughtfully took another pinch of snuff, "I tell you
+that the more I think of it, the more convinced I am that for many
+reasons this little Bastien would just suit the dear boy, that she would
+be a perfect godsend to him, in fact."
+
+"I think so, too, madame."
+
+"So we had better strike while the iron is hot," continued the dowager.
+"What time is it, Zerbinette?"
+
+"Half-past four, madame," said the attendant, glancing at her watch.
+
+"That gives us plenty of time. This morning when my grandson left to
+spend the day with the Merinvilles at Boncour, I promised him I would
+meet him at the lake at five o'clock, so we must make haste."
+
+"But, madame, you forget that M. Raoul sent his groom to tell you that
+he was going to pay a call at Montel after leaving Boncour, and that he
+would not return to the château before seven."
+
+"Yes, yes, you are right, girl. I must give up seeing him immediately
+then, for to return from Montel he will have to take the Vieille Coupe
+road, and that is too steep for me, for I'm a perfect coward in a
+carriage; besides, as it is only half-past four, I should have to drive
+too far to meet him, so I will postpone my conversation on the subject
+of the hermitess until this evening. Give me your arm, Zerbinette, and
+let us start, but first let me take another look at this famous rock."
+
+"Don't go too near though, madame, for Heaven's sake."
+
+But in spite of Zerbinette's protest she walked up to the rock, and,
+casting an almost melancholy glance at the wild spot, exclaimed:
+
+"Ah, there is no change in the rocks. They look exactly as they did
+sixty years ago."
+
+Then after a moment's silence, turning gaily to Zerbinette, who was
+holding herself prudently aloof, the dowager added:
+
+"That story of the osprey has recalled hundreds of other pleasant
+reminiscences. I've a great mind to amuse myself by writing my memoirs
+some day. They might serve both to instruct and edify my grandson," the
+octogenarian continued, with a hearty laugh, in which Zerbinette joined.
+
+For several minutes the sound of their laughter could be distinctly
+heard as the two slowly wended their way down the path.
+
+When the sound had entirely died away, Frederick, his face livid, his
+expression frightful to behold, emerged from the cave where he had heard
+every word of the conversation between the dowager-marquise and
+Zerbinette, and, gun in hand, hastened toward another part of the
+forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+The Vieille Coupe road, which Raoul de Pont Brillant would be obliged to
+take on his return from the Château de Montel homeward, was a sort of
+deep hollow way, with high banks covered with tall pine-trees, whose
+heads formed such an impenetrable dome that the light was dim there even
+at noontime, and at sunset it was so dark that two men who met there
+would not be able to distinguish each other's features.
+
+It was about six o'clock in the evening when Raoul de Pont Brillant
+turned in this path, which seemed all the darker and more gloomy from
+the fact that the highway he had just left was still lighted by the rays
+reflected from the setting sun. He was alone, having sent his groom to
+the château to inform the marquise of his change of plans.
+
+He had proceeded only twenty yards when his vision became sufficiently
+accustomed to the obscurity to enable him to distinguish a human being
+standing motionless in the middle of the road, a short distance in front
+of him.
+
+"Hallo there, get to one side of the road or the other," he shouted.
+
+"One word, M. le Marquis de Pont Brillant," responded a voice.
+
+"What do you want?" asked Raoul, checking his horse and leaning over
+upon his saddle, in a vain effort to distinguish the features of his
+interlocutor. "Who are you? What do you want?"
+
+"M. de Pont Brillant, did you receive a note this morning requesting
+you to meet some one at Grand Sire's Rock?"
+
+"No; for I left Pont Brillant at eight o'clock; but once more, what does
+all this mean? Who the devil are you?"
+
+"I am the writer of the letter sent you this morning."
+
+"Ah, well, my friend, you can--"
+
+"I am not your friend," interrupted the voice, "I am your enemy."
+
+"What's that you say?" exclaimed Raoul, in surprise.
+
+"I say that I am your enemy."
+
+"Indeed!" retorted Raoul, in a half-amused, half-contemptuous tone, for
+he was naturally very brave. "And what is your name, Mister Enemy?"
+
+"My name is a matter of no consequence."
+
+"Probably not, but why the devil do you stop me in the road at
+nightfall, then? Ah, I remember you said you wrote to me."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To tell me what?"
+
+"That you were a coward if you--"
+
+"Wretch!" exclaimed Raoul, starting his horse.
+
+But Madame Bastien's son struck the horse in the head with the barrel of
+his gun, forcing him to stop.
+
+Raoul, a trifle startled at first, but really curious to know what the
+stranger was coming at, calmed himself, and remarked, coldly:
+
+"You did me the honour to write to me, you say?"
+
+"Yes, to tell you that if you were not a coward, you would come to Grand
+Sire's Rock to-day with your gun loaded like mine."
+
+"And may I ask what we were to do with our guns?"
+
+"We were to place ourselves ten paces apart, and then fire at each
+other."
+
+"And for what object may I ask?"
+
+"So I would kill you or you would kill me."
+
+"That would probably have been the case at that distance unless we were
+very poor shots. But if one is so anxious to kill people, one should at
+least tell me why."
+
+"I want to kill you--because I hate you."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"Do not sneer, M. de Pont Brillant, do not sneer."
+
+"It is very difficult not to, but I'll try simply to oblige you. You
+hate me, you say, and why?"
+
+"The cause of my hatred concerns you as little as my name."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Well, you hate me, you say? What of it?"
+
+"You must kill me or I shall kill you."
+
+"That seems to be a settled thing with you. Where are we to fight?"
+
+"Here, right here and now."
+
+"But it isn't light enough to see."
+
+"There is no need of its being light enough to see."
+
+"But what are we to fight with?"
+
+"With my gun."
+
+"One gun?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's a strange idea. How are we to do it?"
+
+"Get down off your horse."
+
+"And after that?"
+
+"Pick up a handful of stones out of the road."
+
+"Stones! So it is with stones that we are going to fight. It reminds me
+of the famous battle between David and Goliath."
+
+"I said that you were to pick up a handful of stones out of the road.
+The darkness will prevent you from counting the stones, and you will
+hold them in your closed hand. The one who guesses the number correctly
+is to have the gun. He will place it against the other's breast and
+fire. You see that no daylight is needed for that, M. de Pont
+Brillant."
+
+Frederick's manner was so resolute and his voice so incisive that the
+young marquis, strange as the whole affair seemed to be, decided that
+the speaker was really in earnest; then, suddenly remembering a
+conversation that had taken place in his grandmother's drawing-room, he
+burst into a hearty laugh and exclaimed:
+
+"This is a good joke, upon my word. I understand everything now."
+
+"Explain, M. de Pont Brillant."
+
+"Last night at the château they were all telling stories about robbers
+and midnight attacks, and they laughed about what I would do under such
+circumstances. I talked a little boastfully of my courage, I suppose, so
+they concocted this little scheme to test it, for they knew that I would
+have to pass through this road in returning from Montel. You can tell
+the persons that paid you to waylay me that I behaved myself very
+creditably, for, upon my word as a gentleman, I took the thing seriously
+at first. Good night, my worthy friend. Let me pass now, for it is
+getting late, and I shall scarcely have time to reach Pont Brillant and
+dress before dinner."
+
+"This is no joke, M. de Pont Brillant, nor is it a test. You will not be
+allowed to pass, and you are going to get down off your horse."
+
+"I have had enough of this, I tell you," exclaimed Raoul, imperiously.
+"You have earned your money. Now stand aside so I can pass."
+
+"Dismount, M. de Pont Brillant, dismount, I say!"
+
+"So much the worse for you, I'll ride right over you," cried Raoul, now
+thoroughly enraged.
+
+And he urged his horse on.
+
+But Frederick seized the horse by the bridle, and with a violent jerk
+forced the animal back upon its haunches.
+
+"How dare you touch my horse, you scoundrel!" roared Raoul, raising his
+whip and striking at random, but the blow fell only upon empty air.
+
+"I consider the blow and the insulting epithet received, M. de Pont
+Brillant, and now you will indeed be a coward if you don't dismount at
+once and give me the satisfaction I demand."
+
+As we have remarked before, Raoul was naturally brave; he was also as
+experienced in the ways of the world as most young men of twenty-five,
+so this time he answered very seriously and with remarkable good sense
+and firmness:
+
+"You have charged me with cowardice, and you have grossly insulted me
+besides, so I tried to chastise you as one chastises a vagabond who
+insults you on a street corner. Unfortunately the darkness rendered my
+attempts futile, and you will be obliged to take the will for the deed.
+If this doesn't satisfy you, you know who I am and you can come to the
+Château de Pont Brillant to-morrow with two honourable men, if you know
+any, which I doubt very much, judging from your actions. These gentlemen
+can confer with the Vicomte de Marcilly and M. le Duc de Morville, my
+seconds. Your seconds will tell my seconds your name and the cause of
+the challenge you say you sent me this morning. These gentlemen will
+decide between them what should be done. I am perfectly willing to abide
+by their decision. That is the way such affairs are managed among
+well-bred people. As you don't know, I will endeavour to teach you."
+
+"And you refuse to fight me here and now?"
+
+"I do, most decidedly."
+
+"Take care. Either you or I will remain here!"
+
+"Then it will be you, so good night," said Raoul.
+
+As he spoke he plunged his spurs into his horse's sides. The animal made
+a powerful spring forward, hurling Frederick to the ground.
+
+When Madame Bastien's son, still stunned from his fall, staggered to his
+feet, he heard the sound of Raoul's horse's hoofs already dying away in
+the distance.
+
+After a brief moment of stupor, Frederick uttered a cry of ferocious
+joy, and, picking up his gun, climbed one of the almost perpendicular
+banks on the side of the road with the aid of the pine saplings, and
+plunged headlong into the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+While these events were transpiring in the forest of Pont Brillant,
+Madame Bastien was a prey to the most poignant anxiety. Faithful to the
+promise she had made Frederick the evening before, she waited until
+nearly one o'clock in the afternoon before entering her son's room.
+Believing he was still sleeping, she hoped he would derive much benefit
+from this restful slumber.
+
+The young mother was in her chamber, which adjoined her son's room,
+listening every now and then for some sound that would seem to indicate
+that her son was awake, when Marguerite, their old servant, came in to
+ask for some instructions.
+
+"Speak low, and close the door carefully," said Marie. "I don't want my
+son waked."
+
+"M. Frederick, madame; why, he went out this morning at sunrise with his
+gun."
+
+To rush into her son's bedroom was the work of only an instant.
+
+Frederick was not there; his gun, too, was missing.
+
+Several hours passed, but Frederick did not appear, and the light of the
+dull November day was already beginning to wane when Marguerite came
+running in.
+
+"Madame, madame," she exclaimed, "here is Father André! He saw M.
+Frederick this morning."
+
+"You saw my son this morning, André? What did he say to you? Where is he
+now?" cried Madame Bastien, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, madame, M. Frederick came to me for some bullets about sunrise
+this morning."
+
+"Bullets? What did he want of them?" asked the anxious mother, trying to
+drive away the horrible suspicion that had suddenly presented itself to
+her mind. "Did he want them for hunting?"
+
+"Of course, madame; for M. Frederick told me that Jean François--you
+know Jean François, the farmer near Coudraie?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know; go on."
+
+"It seems that Jean François told M. Frederick yesterday that a wild
+boar got into his garden a night or two ago, and ruined his potatoes;
+and M. Frederick told me he was going to station himself in a
+hiding-place that Jean François knew of, and kill the animal."
+
+"But that is so dangerous," cried Madame Bastien. "Frederick never shot
+at a boar in his life. If he misses, he is sure to be killed."
+
+"I don't think you need feel any anxiety, madame. M. Frederick is an
+excellent shot, and--"
+
+"Then my son is at the farmer's house now, I suppose?"
+
+"I presume so, as he is going with the farmer this evening."
+
+A quarter of an hour afterward the young mother, panting and
+breathless,--for she had run every step of the way,--knocked at the door
+of the farmhouse, where Jean François and his wife and children were
+seated around the fire.
+
+"Jean François, take me where my son is at once," cried Madame Bastien;
+then she added, reproachfully, "How could you allow a youth of his age
+to expose himself to such danger? But come, I entreat you, come, it may
+not be too late to prevent this imprudence on his part."
+
+The farmer and his wife exchanged looks of profound astonishment, then
+Jean François said:
+
+"Excuse me, madame, but I've no idea what you mean."
+
+"Didn't you complain to my son last night of a wild boar that had been
+ravaging your garden?"
+
+"Oh, the boars find so many nuts in the forest this year that they are
+not inclined to leave it. They have done us no damage up to the present
+time, thank Heaven."
+
+"But you urged my son to come and take a shot at some boar."
+
+"No, madame, no; I never even spoke of any boar to him."
+
+Overcome with dread and consternation, Marie stood perfectly silent and
+motionless for a moment. At last she murmured:
+
+"Frederick lied to André. And those bullets--my God!--those bullets,
+what did he intend to do with them?"
+
+The honest farmer, seeing Madame Bastien's intense anxiety, and thinking
+to reassure her at least in a measure, said to her:
+
+"I never said anything to M. Frederick about hunting boars, but if you
+want to find him, I think I know where he is."
+
+"You have seen him, then?"
+
+"Yes, madame. Madame knows that steep hill about a mile from the Vieille
+Coupe road, as you go to the château through the forest?"
+
+"Yes, yes; what of it?"
+
+"Why, just at dusk I was coming down that hill on my way home, when I
+saw M. Frederick come out of the forest and cross the road on the run."
+
+"How long ago was this?"
+
+"At least half an hour."
+
+"Jean François, you are a good man. I am in great trouble. Take me to
+the place where you saw my son, I implore you," pleaded the young
+mother.
+
+"I see what the trouble is, madame, and I don't know but you have good
+cause to feel anxious--"
+
+"Go on--go on."
+
+"Well, the fact is that you're afraid that M. Frederick may be caught
+poaching in the Pont Brillant woods. I feel in the same way, madame, and
+I honestly think we have reason to be alarmed, for the young marquis is
+bitter against poachers, and as jealous of his game as his deceased
+father used to be. His guards are always on the watch, and if they find
+M. Frederick poaching it will go hard with him."
+
+"Yes, yes, that is what I am afraid of," replied Madame Bastien,
+quickly. "You see we haven't a minute to lose. Jean François, I must get
+my son away at any cost."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+When Marie Bastien and her guide left the farmhouse they found that the
+fog had lifted, and that the moon was shining brightly.
+
+A profound silence reigned.
+
+Jean François strode on for a moment or two in silence, then, moderating
+his pace, he turned and said:
+
+"Pardon, me, madame, I am going too fast, perhaps."
+
+"Too fast? Oh, no, my friend, you cannot go too fast. Go on, go on, I
+can keep up with you."
+
+Then, after they had walked a few minutes longer in silence, Marie
+asked:
+
+"When you saw my son, did he seem excited or agitated?" And as the
+farmer turned to reply, Madame Bastien exclaimed:
+
+"Don't lose a minute, talk as we walk."
+
+"I can hardly say, madame. I saw him come out of the forest, run across
+the road, and enter a thicket which he had probably selected as a
+hiding-place."
+
+"And you think you would know this thicket?"
+
+"Unquestionably, madame. It is only about ten rods from the sign-post on
+the main road to the château."
+
+"What a distance it is, Jean François! Shall we never get there?"
+
+"It will take a quarter of an hour longer."
+
+"A quarter of an hour!" murmured the young mother. "Alas! so many things
+may happen in a quarter of an hour."
+
+Madame Bastien and her guide hurried on, though more than once the young
+woman was obliged to press both hands upon her breast to still the
+violent throbbing of her heart.
+
+"What time do you think it is, Jean François?" she asked a few minutes
+afterward.
+
+"Judging from the moon, I think it must be about seven o'clock."
+
+"And when we reach the edge of the forest we are near the thicket, you
+say?"
+
+"Not more than a hundred yards at most, madame."
+
+"You had better enter one side of the thicket, Jean François, and I will
+enter the other, and we will both call Frederick at the top of our
+voices. If he does not answer us," continued the young woman with an
+involuntary shudder, "if he does not answer us, we shall be obliged to
+continue our search, for we must not fail to find him."
+
+"Certainly, madame, but if you will take my advice you will not call M.
+Frederick."
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"We might give warning to the gamekeepers who are probably on the watch,
+for a bright moonlight night like this seems to have been made expressly
+for poachers."
+
+"You are right. But do you hear that?" she exclaimed, pausing and
+listening attentively. "It sounds like the ring of horse's hoofs."
+
+"It is, madame. It may be that the head gamekeeper is making his rounds.
+Now we have reached the edge of the forest, madame, we will take this
+short cut, for it will take us straight to the guide-post, only look out
+for your face, for there are so many holly-bushes."
+
+And more than once Marie's delicate hands were torn and lacerated by the
+sharp points of the holly-leaves, but she was not even conscious of it.
+
+"Those bullets, why did he want those bullets?" she said to herself.
+"But I will not allow myself to think of it. I should die of terror, and
+I need all my strength."
+
+Just then the sound of horse's hoofs, which had seemed to come from a
+long way off, rang out louder and louder, then ceased entirely, as if
+the animal had paused entirely or settled down into a walk to ascend a
+very steep hill.
+
+"It was only about twenty yards from here on the top of the hill that I
+saw M. Frederick enter that thicket on the edge of the road," said the
+farmer, pointing to a large clump of young oaks. "I will go around on
+the other side of the thicket, you can enter it on this side, so we
+cannot fail to find M. Frederick if he is still there. In case I meet
+him before you do, I shall tell him that you want him to give up his
+poaching at once, sha'n't I, madame?"
+
+Marie nodded her assent, and entered the little grove in an agony of
+suspense, while Jean François hurried on.
+
+The horse was now near enough to the top of the hill for his tread to be
+distinctly heard, though he was moving so slowly, and in another instant
+horse and rider both became distinctly visible in the bright moonlight.
+The rider was Raoul de Pont Brillant, who had been obliged to take this
+route after leaving the Vieille Coupe road.
+
+Frederick, who was familiar with every path and road in the forest, had,
+by making a short cut through the woods, reached the top of the hill
+considerably in advance of the young marquis.
+
+Marie soon reached quite a large clearing that extended to the roadside.
+Near the edge of this clearing stood an immense oak, and the thick moss
+that covered the ground beneath it deadened the sound of any footsteps
+so effectually that the young woman was able to approach without
+attracting the attention of her son, whom she saw half hidden by the
+enormous trunk of the tree. Too deeply absorbed to notice his mother's
+approach, Frederick was kneeling bareheaded on the grass, holding his
+gun half lowered as if confident that the moment to raise it to his
+shoulder and fire was close at hand.
+
+Though she had endeavoured to drive away the terrible thought, there had
+been a strong fear of the possibility of suicide, so it is easy to
+imagine Madame Bastien's intense joy and relief when, from her son's
+posture, she concluded that the farmer's suspicions were justified and
+that her son was merely poaching on his neighbour's preserves; so, in a
+wild transport of tenderness and delight, the young mother sprang
+forward and threw her arms around her son at the very instant he brought
+his gun to his shoulder, muttering the while, in a ferocious tone:
+
+"Ah, M. le marquis, I have you now."
+
+For Frederick had just seen Raoul de Pont Brillant slowly advancing
+toward him through the clear moonlight, lazily whistling a hunting song.
+
+Madame Bastien's movement had been so sudden and so impetuous that her
+son's gun fell from his hands at the instant he was about to fire.
+
+"My mother!" murmured Frederick, petrified with astonishment.
+
+The horse's tread and the hunting song Raoul de Pont Brillant was
+whistling had partially deadened the noise Madame Bastien had made.
+Nevertheless, the young marquis seemed to have heard or seen something
+that had excited his suspicions, for, standing up in his stirrups, he
+called out, imperiously, "Who goes there!" then listened attentively
+again.
+
+Marie, who had just discovered the reason of her son's presence in the
+forest, placed her hand over Frederick's mouth and listened
+breathlessly.
+
+[Illustration: "HE BROUGHT HIS GUN TO HIS SHOULDER."]
+
+Receiving no response after waiting several seconds, and not supposing
+for one moment that his unknown enemy could have gotten here in advance
+of him, Raoul settled himself in his saddle again, saying to himself:
+"It was some startled deer leaping through the bushes;" after which
+the mother and son, silent, motionless, and locked in a firm embrace,
+heard the young man begin to whistle his hunting song again.
+
+The sound grew fainter and fainter until it died away altogether in the
+profound silence that pervaded the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Madame Bastien could no longer doubt Frederick's intentions, for she had
+seen him aim at Raoul de Pont Brillant, at the same time exclaiming, "I
+have you now, M. le marquis;" but this ambuscade seemed so cowardly and
+so atrocious to the unfortunate woman that, in spite of the conclusive
+evidence against her son, she still tried to close her eyes to the
+truth.
+
+"Frederick, my child, what are you doing here?" asked Madame Bastien,
+tremulously.
+
+"You do not answer me, my child," she continued. "Your eyes are haggard,
+you look so strangely. You have been suffering so much for some days
+past that it has brought on a sort of nervous fever. The fact that you
+do not even know where you are or how you come to be here is proof of
+that. You are like one who has just been suddenly awakened from a dream.
+Am I not right, Frederick?"
+
+"I know where I am."
+
+"Yes, you do now, but you did not a moment ago."
+
+"On the contrary, I tell you that I do know perfectly well why I am
+hiding here with my gun."
+
+"Then Jean François was right," said the poor mother, pretending to be
+reassured. "What he told me was true."
+
+"What did he tell you?"
+
+"That you were poaching in the Pont Brillant woods. You can judge of my
+anxiety when I heard that, so I hastened here at once with Jean
+François, for it is frightfully imprudent in you, my poor child. Don't
+you know that M. le marquis--"
+
+The words M. le marquis startled Frederick out of his terrible calmness.
+He clenched his fists furiously and, confronting his mother with a
+ferocious expression upon his face, exclaimed:
+
+"It was M. le marquis I was lying in wait for; do you hear me, mother?"
+
+"No, Frederick, no," replied the poor mother, shuddering.
+
+"I am determined to make myself understood, then," said Frederick, with
+a frightful smile. "Knowing that M. le marquis would pass here about
+nightfall on his way home, I loaded my gun and came and concealed myself
+behind this tree to kill M. le marquis as he passed. Do you understand
+me now, mother?"
+
+On hearing this terrible confession, Madame Bastien's brain reeled for a
+moment; then she showed herself to be truly heroic.
+
+Placing one of her hands on her son's shoulder, she laid the other on
+his forehead, saying in a calm, perfectly calm, voice, and as if talking
+to herself:
+
+"How hot his poor head is, and he is still delirious with fever! My God,
+oh, my God, how can I induce him to follow me?"
+
+Frederick, amazed by his mother's words and her apparent tranquillity
+after the terrible confession he had just made, exclaimed:
+
+"I am perfectly sane, I tell you, mother. It is you as much as myself
+that I wish to avenge, and my hatred, you see--"
+
+"Yes, yes, my child, I know," interrupted Madame Bastien, too much
+terrified to notice Frederick's last words.
+
+Then, kissing him on the forehead, she said, soothingly:
+
+"Yes, yes, of course you have your senses, so come home with me; for it
+is getting late and we have been out in these woods a long time."
+
+"The place suits me well enough and I shall come back again," answered
+Frederick, sullenly.
+
+"Of course we will come back again, my child, but in order to do that we
+shall first have to go away."
+
+"Don't exasperate me too much, mother."
+
+"Hush, hush, I implore you," whispered Marie, placing her hand upon her
+son's lips and listening breathlessly. "Don't you hear footsteps? My
+God, who is coming?"
+
+Frederick caught up his gun.
+
+"Ah, I know," murmured his mother, recovering from her alarm, after a
+moment's reflection, "it is Jean François. He was to search for you in
+one side of the grove while I searched in the other."
+
+"Is that you, Jean François?" she called out, cautiously.
+
+"Yes, Madame Bastien," replied the worthy farmer, who was not yet
+visible but who could be distinctly heard forcing his way through the
+branches. "I did not find M. Frederick."
+
+"My son is here, Jean François."
+
+"I am glad of it, Madame Bastien, for I just heard voices over by the
+lake and think some of the gamekeepers must be making their rounds,"
+said the worthy farmer, stepping into the clearing.
+
+Frederick, in spite of the violence of his animosity, dared not repeat
+the threats he had just uttered before his mother, so, taking his gun
+under his arm, he silently and gloomily prepared to follow Madame
+Bastien.
+
+On reaching the farmer's cottage that worthy man insisted upon
+harnessing his horse to his cart and taking Marie and her son home, and
+she accepted his offer, being too much overcome with fatigue and emotion
+to be capable of walking such a distance.
+
+They had reached home about nine o'clock in the evening and Frederick
+had scarcely entered the house before he tottered and fell unconscious
+upon the floor. This swoon was followed by a severe nervous spasm which
+terrified his mother beyond expression, but with old Marguerite's
+assistance she did everything she could for her son, who was carried
+into his own room and put to bed.
+
+During this nervous spasm, though his eyes were closed, Frederick wept
+bitterly, and when he recovered consciousness and saw his mother leaning
+over him he held out his arms and pressed her tenderly to his breast.
+This crisis over, he seemed much more calm, and, remarking that he
+chiefly needed rest and quiet now, he turned his face toward the wall
+and did not utter another word.
+
+With rare presence of mind, Marie had ordered all the outside shutters
+of her son's room closed before he was taken into it. There was no way
+of reaching the room except through hers, where she intended to watch
+all night, with the communicating door slightly ajar.
+
+She was not one of those persons who are paralysed by misfortune.
+Terrible as the discovery she had just made was, as soon as she was
+alone she faced it resolutely, after vainly endeavouring to persuade
+herself that her son had not been sane when he premeditated such an
+execrable crime.
+
+"I can no longer doubt that Frederick hates the young marquis with a
+mortal hatred," she said to herself, "and this long suppressed animosity
+is undoubtedly the cause of the great change which has taken place in
+him during the last few months. This hatred has attained such an
+intensity that my son, after having attempted to kill M. de Pont
+Brillant, cannot be induced to abandon that horrible idea even now.
+These are unquestionably the facts of the case. Now to what mysterious
+circumstance am I to impute the origin and the development of such a
+deadly animosity against a youth of his own age? How is it that my son,
+who has been so carefully reared, and who has heretofore made me the
+proudest and happiest of mothers, can have conceived such a horrible
+idea? All this is of secondary importance, so I will postpone the
+solution of these questions which puzzle my reason and make me doubt
+myself until some later day. What I must do now and without delay is to
+save my son from this terrible temptation, and thus prevent him from
+committing a murder."
+
+And after having satisfied herself that her son was sleeping quietly,
+she seated herself at a table and wrote the following letter to her
+husband:
+
+     "TO M. BASTIEN:--I wrote you only a few days ago in relation to
+     Frederick's poor health and to the departure of the tutor you had
+     authorised me to employ.
+
+     "My son's condition causes me great uneasiness, and I realise the
+     urgent necessity of taking some decided action in the matter.
+
+     "I consulted our friend, Doctor Dufour, again yesterday. He feels
+     certain that Frederick's age and rapid growth is the cause of his
+     nervous and morbid condition, and advises me to divert his mind
+     from himself as much as possible, or, better still, travel with
+     him.
+
+     "This I am anxious to do, as in the seclusion in which we live it
+     is almost impossible for me to give Frederick any diversion.
+
+     "It is hardly probable that your business will allow you to
+     accompany us to Hyères, where I wish to take my son, but Marguerite
+     will accompany us, and we may be absent five or six months, or a
+     much shorter time, as that will depend upon the improvement in
+     Frederick's health.
+
+     "For reasons which it would take too long to enumerate here, I have
+     fixed upon next Monday as the date of my departure. I would have
+     started to-morrow morning if I had had the necessary amount of
+     money, but the small sum you sent me last month has been used for
+     household expenses, and you know I have no other money.
+
+     "I send this letter to Blois by a messenger, so you will receive it
+     day after to-morrow, and I implore you to answer by return mail,
+     enclosing a draft on your banker in Blois. I have no idea what
+     amount you will consider adequate. You know the simplicity of my
+     habits. Calculate the amount that will be needed to transport us to
+     Hyères by diligence, add to that the trifling expenses that cannot
+     be exactly foreseen, and sufficient money to live upon for a short
+     time. We will establish ourselves in the most economical manner,
+     and I will afterward write you exactly how much it will cost us a
+     month.
+
+     "Stress of business often prevents you from replying to my letters
+     promptly or even at all, but you must realise the importance of
+     this letter too much to permit any delay in this instance.
+
+     "I do not wish to alarm you, but I feel it my duty to tell you that
+     Frederick shows symptoms of so grave a nature that this journey
+     may, and I hope will, be the salvation of my son.
+
+     "I think I must have given you during the last seventeen years
+     sufficient proofs of my strength of character and devoted affection
+     for Frederick for you to feel satisfied that, sudden as this
+     resolution on my part may appear to you, you will do everything in
+     your power to aid me in carrying out a resolution dictated by the
+     most urgent and imperative necessity.
+
+     "I shall leave old André here. He will take charge of the house,
+     and perform any service you may require during your visits. He is a
+     trusty man to whom I can safely confide the charge of everything in
+     my absence.
+
+     "Good-bye. I end my letter rather abruptly so it can be mailed this
+     evening.
+
+     "I hope to receive a reply on Monday, in which case I shall take
+     the diligence that same evening for Paris, where we shall remain
+     only twenty-four hours, and then leave for Lyons on our way
+     southward.
+
+     "Once more adieu.
+
+    "MARIE BASTIEN."
+
+Her letter concluded, Madame Bastien ordered the horse harnessed so the
+letter could be taken to Blois at once.
+
+After satisfying herself several times in regard to the condition of her
+son, who seemed to be resting more quietly, Madame Bastien sat down and
+began to reflect upon the determination to travel that she had just
+announced to her husband, and found it more and more opportune, though
+she asked herself anxiously how she should manage to prevent Frederick
+from getting out of her sight for a moment until the time appointed for
+their departure. The little clock on the mantel had just struck twelve,
+and the young mother was still absorbed in the same sorrowful
+reflections, when she fancied she heard the quick ring of a horse's
+hoofs in the distance, and the sound came nearer and nearer, until the
+animal paused at the door of the farmhouse.
+
+A few minutes afterward an unwonted bustle pervaded the dwelling and
+some one rapped at the door of Madame Bastien's chamber.
+
+"Who is there?" she asked.
+
+"I, Marguerite, madame."
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"Doctor Dufour is here, madame. He just arrived on horseback."
+
+"Light a fire in the sitting-room and ask the doctor to wait for me
+there. I will be down in a moment."
+
+Then, recollecting that she would be obliged to leave her son, Madame
+Bastien recalled the servant, and said:
+
+"I have changed my mind. I will see the doctor here in my room. Show him
+up at once."
+
+Almost immediately the doctor appeared, preceded by Marguerite.
+
+"Good Heavens! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed M. Dufour on
+seeing Marie.
+
+"Nothing, doctor--"
+
+"Nothing!" repeated the physician, scrutinising Marie with evident
+surprise, so terrible was the change which the events of the previous
+evening had wrought in her appearance. "Nothing?"
+
+"Ah, yes, I know," replied Madame Bastien, with a heart-broken smile,
+reading the doctor's thoughts from the expression of his face.
+
+Then placing a finger on her lips, she added, in a low tone, with a
+meaning glance toward the door of Frederick's chamber:
+
+"We must be very careful, my dear doctor, my son is in there asleep. He
+has had a terrible experience this evening. I was about to write to you
+and ask you to come to-morrow. It was Heaven that sent you."
+
+"As my coming seems so opportune, I shall not have to apologise for
+coming at such an unseasonable hour. I wished to talk with you about a
+matter that would brook no delay, so I ventured to come almost in the
+middle of the night and at the risk of disturbing you."
+
+"My God! what is it?"
+
+"Your son is asleep, is he not?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"But he might hear us if he is not, so let us go to the other end of the
+room and speak low, for it is a matter that concerns him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+"I wish to speak to you in regard to the mental and physical change
+which you have noticed in your son, and which is giving you such grave
+uneasiness."
+
+"Grave indeed, doctor."
+
+"There is a possibility of curing him, I think."
+
+"You really think you can, my dear doctor."
+
+"I? No."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Have the goodness to read this, madame," said the doctor, drawing a
+letter from his pocket and handing it to Madame Bastien, who, greatly
+astonished, took it, and read as follows:
+
+     "'MY DEAR PIERRE:--The diligence stops here for an hour and I take
+     advantage of the opportunity thus afforded to write to you.
+
+     "'After leaving you last evening the subject of our last
+     conversation engrossed my thoughts to the exclusion of all other
+     subjects, for what I had seen and heard could not fail to make a
+     deep impression upon me.
+
+     "'Last night, and this morning as well, I have been unable to drive
+     that poor boy of Madame Bastien's out of my mind. You know, Pierre,
+     that I am rarely deceived in the deductions I draw from certain
+     physiognomies, and what I saw yesterday and what occurred during
+     the passing of the hunting party alike convince me that Madame
+     Bastien's son feels a deadly hatred for the young Marquis de Pont
+     Brillant.'"
+
+Marie, astonished by the justice of this observation, and overcome by
+her recollection of the terrors of the evening, buried her face in her
+hands, and began to sob wildly.
+
+"Great Heavens! what is the matter?" cried the doctor.
+
+"Ah, that is only too true. It is hatred, an implacable hatred, that he
+feels. But who wrote this letter?"
+
+"My best friend, the most generous and noble-hearted man in the world.
+You remember meeting a stranger at my house on St. Hubert's Day, do you
+not?"
+
+"The gentleman my son treated so rudely?"
+
+"The same; but pray go on with the letter."
+
+     "'I have not endeavoured to discover the cause of this animosity,
+     but daily association with Frederick would undoubtedly enable a
+     patient and sagacious person to make a discovery which is
+     indispensable if he would effect a cure. Confident that an
+     implacable animosity has already taken deep root in Frederick's
+     heart, I ask myself by what strange anomaly he can be a prey to
+     such a deplorable weakness.'"
+
+"But who is this man who seems to know my son better than I do
+myself,--this man whose penetration frightens me; for it has proved more
+correct, much more correct than you suppose."
+
+"This man," replied the doctor, sadly, "is a man who has suffered much,
+seen much, and observed much. That is the secret of his remarkable
+penetration."
+
+Madame Bastien resumed her reading of the letter.
+
+     "'You have told me, my friend, that Frederick has arrived at what
+     you call the transition period, an epoch of life which is often
+     extremely critical and accompanied with grave physical
+     disturbances.
+
+     "'Frederick may be strongly affected by these conditions and
+     consequently a prey to feelings which are the more powerful by
+     reason of their very novelty, on account of his mother's close
+     supervision and the salutary influence she has exerted over him up
+     to this time. And how could even Madame Bastien's affection and
+     prudence guard against a danger which neither she nor her son
+     apprehended? She must have been quite as unprepared as her son for
+     the violent passion which seems to have taken possession of him.
+     No, even this judicious and devoted mother has no more cause for
+     regret than if her child had been attacked with measles or some
+     other childish disease.'"
+
+"Don't you entirely agree with my friend in this?" inquired the doctor,
+"I mean in relation to not blaming yourself for the present state of
+affairs."
+
+"Yes," replied Madame Bastien, thoughtfully, "I shall show no mock
+modesty with you, my dear doctor. I am conscious of having performed my
+duties as a mother to the very best of my ability, and I recognise the
+fact that it was not within the limits of human possibility for any one
+to foresee or prevent the misfortune which has overtaken my son."
+
+"One word more, my dear doctor," continued Marie, after a moment's
+silence. "Your friend saw Frederick for only a few minutes, but long
+enough, alas! to be treated with inexcusable rudeness. A generous-minded
+person feels only indulgence and compassion for a poor sick child, I
+know, but there is a wide difference between this compassion and the
+profound interest which your friend manifests in Frederick. What has my
+son done to deserve this interest?"
+
+"The latter part of this letter will explain, I think, but I will say
+this much by way of explanation. My friend had a brother very much
+younger than himself, of whom he had entire charge after his father's
+death. My friend idolised this brother, who was about Frederick's age.
+Like him, he was extremely handsome; like him, he was passionately
+loved, not by a mother, but by the tenderest of brothers."
+
+"And what became of him?" inquired Marie, with interest.
+
+"My friend lost this brother six years ago."
+
+"Ah, now I understand," cried Marie, deeply moved. Then even more
+thoughtfully she resumed the reading of the letter:
+
+     "'I am almost positive that Frederick has never evinced any lack of
+     confidence in his mother up to this time because he has had nothing
+     to hide from her, but the more reprehensible the secret he is
+     concealing from his mother is now at this present time, the more
+     impenetrable he is likely to be.
+
+     "'But now the malady is known to us, what are the best means or the
+     chances of a cure?
+
+     "'The first thing to be done is to discover the cause of
+     Frederick's animosity. How is this discovery to be effected?
+     Frederick loves his mother devotedly, nevertheless he has remained
+     deaf to her entreaties, so it is almost certain that he will never
+     tell her his unhappy secret now, partly from a fear of forfeiting
+     the respect of his friends, partly from a fear of imperilling his
+     prospect of vengeance, the inevitable consequence of hatred when it
+     is as energetic and intense as Frederick's seems to be.'"
+
+Madame Bastien trembled violently as she read this prophecy which the
+scene she had lately witnessed in the forest verified but too well, and
+it was in a voice full of emotion she continued:
+
+     "'Consequently it seems almost certain that Madame Bastien must
+     renounce all hope of gaining her son's confidence. That being the
+     case, shall she resort to penetration, that compound of
+     watchfulness, dissimulation, and trickery? for to ferret out a
+     secret, at least a jealously guarded secret, one must employ all
+     sorts of cunning expedients.
+
+     "'Can a woman like Madame Bastien play such a difficult rôle even
+     if she desire to do so, a rôle which requires so much cool
+     calculation and dissimulation?
+
+     "'No, the poor mother would blush and pale by turn, and in spite of
+     her resolution she would hesitate at every step, even though she
+     felt such a course might effect her son's salvation.'"
+
+Madame Bastien's head drooped, two big tears rolled slowly down her
+cheeks, her hands fell inertly upon her knees, and she murmured, with a
+deep sigh:
+
+"What he says is only too true. I recognise my utter powerlessness."
+
+"Don't despair, I beseech you," cried the doctor, earnestly. "Do you
+suppose I would ever have brought you this letter, or that my friend
+would ever have written it, if he had not felt sure he had found a means
+of remedying this evil? Go on, I beg of you."
+
+     "'In my opinion,'" Marie continued, "'Frederick has reached an age
+     when the most devoted and intelligent maternal tenderness will no
+     longer suffice for his guidance.
+
+     "'Some knowledge of and experience in a man's life is needed to arm
+     him against the many temptations of which a woman is entirely
+     ignorant, and against which it is consequently well-nigh impossible
+     for her to protect her son.
+
+     "'An intelligent and devoted father might accomplish this difficult
+     task successfully, but as M. Bastien's business keeps him so much
+     from home, Frederick needs a man of feeling, honour, integrity, and
+     experience,--a man who understands the full importance of the task
+     of fashioning a youth into a man.
+
+     "'Such a person, aided by the information Madame Bastien could
+     give him, and, above all, by the influence she must still possess
+     over her son, such a person could, I feel sure, by patient study
+     and observation eventually discover Frederick's secret, and assist
+     his mother in combating and finally destroying this animosity in
+     the heart of this unfortunate youth, and then continue the
+     education which Madame Bastien has so admirably begun.'"
+
+"This is only too true," commented Madame Bastien. "I have felt the
+necessity of providing a tutor for my son for some time, as you know, my
+dear doctor. The tutor I engaged did not fulfil all my requirements by
+any means, but he was fairly competent, and endowed with an unusual
+amount of patience and amiability. Unfortunately, my son's irascibility
+of temper drove him away. Now, in the seclusion in which I live, and for
+the very limited amount of money my husband has consented to expend for
+this purpose, how can I hope to find such a tutor as your friend
+describes? Besides, how can I induce Frederick to accept a tutor in his
+present irritated state of mind? Besides, the more conscious a tutor is
+of his value, his devotion, and his dignity, the less inclined he will
+be to submit to my son's violence. Alas! you see I shall be obliged to
+renounce this means, valuable as I know it to be."
+
+The young mother resumed her reading.
+
+     "'If Madame Bastien for any special reason does not desire to
+     employ a tutor, there is another course which may not prove equally
+     beneficial, but which will at least serve to divert his mind from
+     the idea which seems to be dominating it,--that is for his mother
+     to start with him on a long journey.'"
+
+"I had made up my mind to do that very thing," said Marie. "This very
+evening I wrote to my husband informing him of my decision. I cannot be
+wrong this time, as I agree with your friend on this point, so--"
+
+"Yes, but in my friend's opinion, as you will see if you read on a
+little further, this journey is only a palliative measure."
+
+Madame Bastien read as follows:
+
+     "'I do not doubt the beneficial effects of such a journey on
+     Frederick's mind, but unhappily it will only divert his mind from
+     this unfortunate idea, not destroy it. A journey may, I repeat,
+     serve to ameliorate Frederick's mental condition and enable his
+     mother to gain time, a very important consideration, for I know
+     there will necessarily be considerable difficulty in immediately
+     finding a person capable of undertaking this mission. In fact, I am
+     so conscious of the many difficulties that, if I thought my offer
+     would be acceptable and above all seemly, I should be glad to offer
+     myself to Madame Bastien as Frederick's tutor.'"
+
+Marie's astonishment was so intense that she paused suddenly, and
+thinking she could not have read the letter aright, she read the line
+over again aloud in order to satisfy herself that her eyes had not
+played her false.
+
+     "'_I should be glad to offer myself to Madame Bastien as
+     Frederick's tutor._'"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, "and if he says it he means it."
+
+"Pardon me, doctor," stammered the young mother, overwhelmed with
+astonishment, "but the amazement this--this unexpected, incomprehensible
+offer causes me--"
+
+"Incomprehensible, no. When you know the person who makes this offer
+better, you are the very person to understand and appreciate the feeling
+that prompted it."
+
+"But without knowing me, doctor--"
+
+"In the first place he does know you, for I admitted, did I not? that I
+had been very indiscreet; besides, would any other tutor that offered
+himself be any better acquainted with you?"
+
+"But--but your friend has never been a tutor?"
+
+"No; yet from his letter can you not see that he is a just, generous,
+and judicious person? As to his capabilities, I can vouch for them. But
+read on, please."
+
+     "'This proposition will doubtless astonish you, my dear friend, as
+     I left you last evening for Nantes, from which place I was to
+     embark for a long voyage. Moreover, I have never been a tutor, the
+     modest fortune at my disposal preventing the necessity of following
+     any regular avocation; last but not least, Madame Bastien does not
+     know me, though I ask her to give me the greatest proof of
+     confidence that it is in her power to grant, that is, to allow me
+     to share the oversight of Frederick with her.
+
+     "'The first moment of surprise over, my friend, you will recollect
+     that, though I have endeavoured to impart a useful aim to my
+     travels, I adopted this roving life in the hope of finding
+     distraction from the intense grief the loss of my poor brother
+     caused me. Now after several hours of reflection, I am not only
+     willing but anxious to attempt Frederick's cure. A very
+     extraordinary desire this will doubtless appear to those who do not
+     know me, but perfectly natural to those who do know me intimately.
+     Since Fernand's death all boys of his age inspire me with a
+     profound interest; and since I have reflected long and carefully
+     upon the seriousness of Frederick's mental condition and his
+     mother's increasing anxiety, as well as the obstacles she must
+     overcome in order to ensure her son's recovery, I think I have
+     devised a way of effecting a cure. It seems to me, too, that I
+     should be paying the greatest possible tribute of affection and
+     respect to my poor Fernand's memory by doing for Frederick
+     precisely what I had hoped to do for my own brother, and that this
+     would not only be a wholesome distraction, but the only possible
+     consolation in my grief.
+
+     "'Now you have heard my reasons I feel sure my decision will no
+     longer astonish you; and if my offer is accepted I shall fulfil my
+     duties conscientiously.
+
+     "'From what I know of Madame Bastien, I feel sure that she will
+     understand my motives perfectly; so, on reflection, I think it
+     would be advisable for you to show her this letter, though it was
+     really written for your eye alone. You are in a position to answer
+     any inquiries Madame Bastien may desire to make concerning me. You
+     know me and my life; so say whatever you think you are justified in
+     saying to satisfy Madame Bastien that I am worthy of her
+     confidence.
+
+     "'Write me at Nantes. It is absolutely necessary that I should have
+     an answer this day week, as the _Endymion_, on which I have engaged
+     passage, sails on the fourteenth, wind permitting; so desiring to
+     give Madame Bastien the longest possible time for reflection, I
+     seize this opportunity to write so my letter may reach you
+     twenty-four hours earlier.
+
+     "'If my offer is refused I shall take my intended journey.
+
+     "'The diligence is about to start, so I must bid you a hasty
+     farewell, my dear Pierre. I have only time to address this letter
+     and assure you once more of my devoted affection.
+
+    "'HENRI DAVID.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+As Madame Bastien returned the letter with a hand that trembled with
+emotion, Doctor Dufour said:
+
+"One word, please. I do not know what your decision may be, but before
+you announce it I ought to give you some information about Henri David,
+so you may know all about him before you either accept or refuse his
+offer. Do you not think so?"
+
+"No, my dear doctor, I do not," replied Madame Bastien, after a moment's
+reflection.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I shall be obliged to do one of two things, that is to say, I shall
+either have to accept or decline M. David's offer. If I accept it, a
+desire to know anything further in relation to him would show a distrust
+of him and of you. This letter is to my mind convincing proof of his
+high sense of honour and his generosity of heart. If, on the contrary, I
+cannot or should not accept M. David's offer, there would be a sort of
+indelicate curiosity on my part in encouraging your revelations
+concerning the past of a person who would remain a stranger to me,
+though the nobility of his offer merits my eternal gratitude."
+
+"I thank you both on David's behalf and my own for the confidence you
+manifest in us, my dear Madame Bastien. Now reflect, and let me know
+your decision as soon as your mind is fully made up. In compliance with
+my friend's request, I lost no time in acquainting you with the contents
+of his letter, and that is why I came at this late hour of the night,
+even at the risk of disturbing you, instead of waiting until to-morrow,
+and--"
+
+The doctor did not finish the sentence, for a shrill, spasmodic laugh
+resounded from Frederick's room, and made Madame Bastien spring from her
+seat.
+
+Pale and terrified, she seized the lamp and ran into her son's room,
+followed by the doctor.
+
+The unfortunate youth, with distorted features, livid complexion, and
+lips contracted in a sardonic smile, had been seized with a fit of
+delirium, due, doubtless, to a reaction after the events of the evening,
+and his frenzied outburst of laughter was followed by incoherent
+exclamations, in which the following recurred incessantly:
+
+"I missed him, but patience, patience!"
+
+These words, which were only too significant to Madame Bastien, showed
+how persistently the idea of vengeance still clung to Frederick. Thanks
+to Doctor Dufour's almost providential presence, the promptest and most
+efficacious attentions were lavished upon Frederick, and the physician
+spent the remainder of the night and the morning of the next day with
+the sick youth. Toward evening there was a decided change for the better
+in his condition. The delirium ceased, and it was with unusual
+effusiveness that the poor boy thanked his mother for her devotion,
+weeping freely the while.
+
+Madame Bastien's relief was so great that she deluded herself with the
+idea that the violence of this crisis had effected a salutary change in
+the condition of her son's mind, and that he was saved, so about ten
+o'clock in the evening she yielded to the doctor's persuasions, and
+consented to lie down and rest while old Marguerite watched over her
+son.
+
+When she returned to her son's bedside she found him sleeping soundly,
+so motioning Marguerite to follow her, she asked:
+
+"Has he rested well?"
+
+"Very well, madame. He woke only twice, and talked very sensibly, I
+assure you."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"Oh, he talked about different things. Among others he asked me where
+his gun was, and when I told him madame had made me put it away, he
+said: 'That's all right, Marguerite, but don't tell my mother I've been
+asking for my gun. It might worry her if she thought I had any idea of
+hunting again, weak as I am.'"
+
+So he had hardly recovered from this attack before Frederick's mind was
+again engrossed with thoughts of vengeance. Marie had only just made
+this deplorable discovery when a letter was handed to her. Madame
+Bastien recognised her husband's handwriting, consequently this was the
+reply to the letter in which she had announced her intention of
+travelling with Frederick.
+
+    "BOURGES, November 5, 1846.
+
+"I answer by return mail as you request, to ask, first, if you have gone
+mad, and, secondly, if you really think me ass enough to accede to the
+most absurd whim that ever visited a woman's brain.
+
+"So, madame, on the plea that Frederick's health requires it, you are
+planning a pleasure trip to the sunny south with your retinue like some
+great lady! It strikes me that you have taken it into your head to play
+the part of a woman rather late in the day!
+
+"'We shall remain in Paris only twenty-four hours at the longest,' you
+say, but I see through your little game.
+
+"You are dying to see the capital, like all provincials, and your excuse
+would be a pretty good one if I was such an egregious fool as you seem
+to think. Once in Paris, you would write: My son is too much fatigued
+with the journey to go on at once, or, we could secure no places in the
+diligence, or, I am not feeling well myself, until a week or two weeks
+or even a month had passed.
+
+"If monsieur, my son, needs diversion on account of his health, send him
+out fishing,--he has three ponds at his disposal,--or let him go
+hunting. If he needs change, let him walk from Herbiers to the Grand Pré
+mill half a dozen times a day, and I'll wager that in three months he'll
+be strong enough to make the journey from Pont Brillant to Hyères on
+foot.
+
+"You excite my pity, upon my word! To have such absurd ideas at your
+age, think of it, and, above all, to suppose me capable of consenting to
+anything so ridiculous!
+
+"All this confirms me in the opinion that you are bringing up your son
+to be a perfect nincompoop. I shall hear of his having the blues and
+nervous attacks next, I suppose. He'll soon get over all this nonsense
+when I take him in hand, I promise you. I consented to leave him with
+you until he was seventeen, and even to let him have a tutor, as if he
+were a young duke or a marquis. I shall keep my word, so you can have
+your son and a tutor exactly five months longer, after which M.
+Frederick will enter the office of my friend Bridou, the notary, where
+he will stain his slender white fingers copying documents as his father
+and grandfather did before him.
+
+"I write to my banker in Blois by this same mail, telling him not to
+advance you a centime. I shall also write to my friend Bossard, the
+notary at Pont Brillant, who is as good as a town crier, to proclaim it
+from the housetops that, in case you try to borrow any money, no one is
+to loan you a sou, for any debts contracted by a wife without the
+husband's consent, or rather when he has given due notice that he has no
+intention of paying them, are null and void.
+
+"Besides, I warn you that I shall instruct Bridou, in case you have the
+audacity to undertake this journey on borrowed money, to set the police
+on your track and bring you back to the conjugal domicile, as I have an
+undoubted right to do, for no wife can leave her husband's roof without
+the consent of her lord and master. You know me too well to fancy for
+one moment that I shall hesitate to carry my threat into execution. You
+have a will of your own, as you have proved. Very well, you will find
+that I have one, too.
+
+"Don't take the trouble to answer this letter. I leave Bourges this
+evening for the Netherlands, where I shall probably remain until the
+middle of January, returning to the farm in March, to give you and my
+son the blowing up you so richly deserve.
+
+"It is in this hope that I sign myself your deeply incensed husband,
+
+    "BASTIEN.
+
+"P.S.--You wrote me in a previous letter that the tutor had taken his
+departure. If you want another ass to take the place of the one that has
+gone, you can employ one, provided you can get him for one hundred
+francs a month, board and lodging--but no washing--included. Above all,
+don't forget that I won't have him eating at the table with me. When I
+am at home he will eat in his room, or in the kitchen if he wants
+company.
+
+"Ask Huebin to let me know how the brood sows are looking, for I want to
+get the premium for my hogs this fall. It is a matter of pride with me."
+
+A quarter of an hour after this coarse effusion from her lord and master
+had been received, Madame Bastien wrote the following letters, which
+were despatched to Pont Brillant at once.
+
+     "TO DOCTOR DUFOUR:--Dear doctor, will you have the goodness to
+     forward the enclosed letter to Nantes, after having first read and
+     sealed it. My son had a comfortable night.
+
+     "Try to give me a few minutes to-day or to-morrow, so I can tell
+     you what I have not time to write.
+
+     "Hoping to see you very soon, I remain,
+
+    "Your sincere friend,
+
+    "MARIE BASTIEN."
+
+
+The letter enclosed read as follows:
+
+     "MONSIEUR:--I accept your generous offer with profound gratitude.
+     My son's age and mental condition, the anxiety I feel concerning
+     his future are my only claims upon your interest, yet I believe
+     that in your eyes these claims are sacred.
+
+     "Increase my obligations by hastening the date of your arrival here
+     as much as possible. Your predictions in relation to my unfortunate
+     child are more than verified.
+
+     "My only hope is in you, monsieur, and every hour and minute adds
+     to my anxiety. I am terrified at the thought of what may occur at
+     any moment in spite of my solicitude and untiring vigilance. It is
+     needless to say that I await your assistance with the utmost
+     impatience.
+
+     "May Heaven bless you, for the compassion you have shown to a
+     mother who lives only in her son.
+
+    "MARIE BASTIEN."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+During the brief time which preceded Henri David's arrival the condition
+of physical weakness which followed Frederick's attack of nervous fever
+prevented him from leaving the house, especially as the weather was very
+unpleasant, an unusually early snow having covered the ground, while a
+heavy fog obscured the atmosphere.
+
+Since the scene in the forest there had been no explanation between the
+mother and son, nor even any allusion to the distressing incident.
+Remembering the offensive manner in which her son had treated M. David
+on Saint Hubert's Day, Madame Bastien felt no little anxiety with regard
+to the future relations between her son and his new tutor, whose
+intended coming was as yet a secret to Frederick.
+
+At last came a note from Doctor Dufour, enclosing the following:
+
+     "I am travelling by post to make a few hours, my dear Pierre, so I
+     shall arrive very soon after you receive these few lines, and we
+     will go together to Madame Bastien's house."
+
+M. David's arrival being only a matter of a few hours, Marie could defer
+the revelation of her plans no longer, so she went to the study in
+search of him. She found him seated at a table, apparently engaged in
+translating a French exercise into English.
+
+"Lay aside your books a moment, Frederick, and come and sit down by me.
+There is something I wish to say to you."
+
+Frederick took a seat beside his mother on a sofa near the fireplace,
+and his mother, taking her son's hands in hers, said to him, with the
+tenderest solicitude:
+
+"How cold your hands are, my son. Your writing-table is too far from the
+fire. You ought to move your table to this part of the room."
+
+"I will, mother, if you wish it."
+
+"I wish you would do so presently, but first we must have a little
+talk."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"About a very important matter, my son."
+
+"I am listening."
+
+"The reasons that decided me to employ a tutor for you still exist,
+though he has left us. There are branches in which you need instruction
+which I am unfortunately not able to give."
+
+"I seem to have lost all taste for study now, you know, mother."
+
+"You must make some effort to overcome this languor. It worries me very
+much."
+
+"I will try, mother."
+
+"But it seems to me that if you had some one to encourage you in your
+good resolutions, and assist your studies, it would be much better for
+you, don't you think so?"
+
+"Your encouragement suffices for me."
+
+"I may encourage you, but as I said before, I am unable to render you
+any assistance, so I have thought it would be advisable to replace the
+tutor who just left us."
+
+"Replace him? It is not worth while to think of that, mother. I don't
+want any tutor."
+
+"But you need one, nevertheless, so I have engaged a new one for you."
+
+"You must be joking, mother."
+
+"You and I seem to have gotten sadly out of the habit of jesting, my
+dear boy. The jolly times you and I used to have together seem almost
+like a dream when I think of them now. But to return to the subject I
+was speaking of. Your new tutor will probably arrive--"
+
+"Arrive! When?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+Frederick's face turned scarlet, and, springing up abruptly, he stamped
+angrily upon the floor, exclaiming:
+
+"I will not have any tutor, mother; do you hear me?"
+
+"But listen, my child, I beg of you."
+
+"I will not have a tutor, I tell you. Send him away; it is useless to
+take him. I will serve him exactly as I did the other."
+
+Up to this time Madame Bastien's manner toward her son had always been
+tender, almost entreating, but realising that she must show no weakness
+now, she replied, in a firm though affectionate tone:
+
+"I have decided that it will be for your interest to have a tutor, my
+son, so I feel sure you will respect my wishes."
+
+"You will see if I do."
+
+"If you mean by that, that you hope to wear your new tutor out by your
+obstinacy and ill-temper, you will make a great mistake; first, because
+you will grieve me very much, and, secondly, because M. David, for that
+is his name, is not a person who will be easily disheartened. This is
+sufficiently proven by the fact that your anger and impertinence only
+served to arouse his commiseration."
+
+"What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"
+
+"The gentleman you met at Doctor Dufour's house."
+
+"What! that man--"
+
+"Is the tutor I have selected for you."
+
+"Is that so?" responded Frederick, with a bitter smile. "After all, what
+difference does it make? I had just as soon contend with one as with the
+other."
+
+Though convinced that Henri David was fully prepared for all the
+tribulations of the difficult task he wished to undertake, Marie was
+naturally desirous of sparing the generous-hearted man an ungracious
+reception, so she resolved to appeal to her son's affection, which had
+never failed her heretofore.
+
+"My dear son, I feel sure of being understood when I tell you that it is
+in the name of my tenderness and devotion for you that I implore you to
+treat M. David with the respectful deference due to his character and
+merits. That is all I ask. Affection and confidence are sure to come
+later. But if you do not treat him as you ought, I shall think, yes, I
+shall think that you have ceased to love me, Frederick. You make no
+reply. I understand why, my son. You think I am exaggerating, do you
+not, when I say that I shall think you have ceased to love me if you
+treat your new tutor rudely? But, my son, the coming of this new tutor
+means your salvation and mine, for I truly believe it will prove the
+beginning of a new era of hope and happiness for us both, and that being
+the case, you would not grieve and disappoint me by receiving M. David
+rudely, for no son who loved his mother would wish to make me miserable;
+so you see I do not exaggerate, after all, my child. But, Frederick, you
+turn away your head. You refuse to look at me. What I say about your
+having ceased to love me is true, then! You do not say so much as a word
+to reassure me, you who used to be so loving and affectionate. Why are
+you angry with me? What have I done?"
+
+"You feel better now, doubtless, since you have summoned a stranger to
+your aid, mother."
+
+"What else could I do? Be just, I beg of you. What am I to think when I
+see you utterly unmoved by all I say to you? Is it true that in a few
+brief months I have lost all influence over you, that my tears and
+entreaties are alike powerless to move you? And when I see only too
+plainly that this is the case, you are angry because I summon some one
+to my aid. Is it possible that you are no longer able to distinguish
+good from evil, that all that is good and generous and noble is dead
+within you? In that case my last hope has indeed fled. I must bring
+myself face to face with the hideous reality, and as you force me,
+absolutely force me, to do it," added Marie, in a voice almost inaudible
+from horror, "I must remind you of that horrible scene, the other night,
+in the forest--in the forest--when you--when you tried--tried to
+kill--in the most cowardly manner-- Oh, my God! my son, _my son_,
+an _assassin_!"
+
+The last word was accompanied with such an outburst of despairing sobs
+that Frederick turned pale and trembled from head to foot.
+
+On hearing the word "assassin" applied to him by his own mother,
+Frederick realised for the first time the enormity of the crime he had
+tried to commit, and noticing her son's gloomy silence, and the
+expression of profound despair that had succeeded his strained and
+sarcastic smile, Madame Bastien asked herself, with increasing anxiety,
+whether the result of this cruel scene would be disastrous or salutary
+for Frederick; but just then Marguerite entered hurriedly, and said to
+her mistress:
+
+"The doctor has just arrived with another gentleman, madame. They wish
+to see you."
+
+"Frederick," exclaimed the young mother, hastily wiping away her tears,
+"my son, it is your new tutor, M. David. I implore you--"
+
+But she could not finish the sentence, for Doctor Dufour entered,
+accompanied by Henri David.
+
+The latter bowed low to Madame Bastien, but as he raised his head he saw
+traces of recent tears on the lady's face. He noticed, too, Frederick's
+livid pallor and his gloomy and defiant air, so he would have had no
+trouble in divining what had just taken place, even if an imploring look
+from Madame Bastien had not still further enlightened him.
+
+"Madame, I have the honour to present my friend, M. Henri David," began
+the doctor.
+
+Madame Bastien was so overwhelmed with emotion, that she could only rise
+from her chair, into which she sank back again after bowing to David,
+who said:
+
+"I shall endeavour to be worthy of the confidence you have manifested in
+me, madame."
+
+"My son," said Marie Bastien, in a voice she tried hard to steady, "I
+hope you will not disappoint the expectations of M. David, who has
+kindly consented to assume the direction of your studies."
+
+"Monsieur," said Frederick, looking his new tutor full in the face, "you
+come here in spite of me. You will leave here on account of me."
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_" murmured Madame Bastien, with a despairing sob, and,
+overcome with shame and confusion, she dared not even lift her eyes to
+Henri David's face.
+
+"You will regret those words when you learn to know me better," said
+Henri David, with a look of infinite compassion.
+
+Frederick burst into a shrill, sardonic laugh, and rushed out of the
+room.
+
+"Don't leave him alone, doctor, I implore you," exclaimed the mother.
+
+But this entreaty had not passed her lips before M. Dufour started after
+Frederick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+Left alone with Madame Bastien, Henri David remained silent for several
+minutes as if to collect his thoughts, then, turning to his companion,
+he said, earnestly:
+
+"I wish, madame, that you could see in me a physician who is devoting
+himself to a dangerous but by no means hopeless case. I should like to
+receive from you a full account of all the events which have taken place
+since you first noticed the change in your son's character which
+distresses you so much. Our friend, Doctor Dufour, has already given me
+some information on the subject. But what you can tell me, madame, will
+doubtless enlighten me still more."
+
+Marie complied with his request, but when she came to the description of
+the scene in the forest, she hesitated and turned pale, and her distress
+was so apparent that Henri David exclaimed:
+
+"What is the matter, madame? This emotion, these tears--"
+
+"Ah, monsieur, I should be unworthy of your generous aid if I concealed
+any portion of the truth from you, no matter how terrible it may be."
+
+"What do you mean, madame?"
+
+"Ah, monsieur," murmured Madame Bastien, with eyes downcast, "in a
+paroxysm of fever, or delirium, or I know not what, he lost his senses
+completely and went at night--"
+
+"At night?"
+
+"To the forest."
+
+And as Madame Bastien again paused with a shudder, David repeated:
+
+"To the forest?"
+
+"Yes, to the forest, where he concealed himself behind a tree to shoot
+M. de Pont Brillant."
+
+"A murderer!" exclaimed David, turning pale, "a murderer at sixteen."
+
+"Have pity, monsieur, have pity," cried Marie, stretching out her hands
+imploringly.
+
+"Do not forsake him," cried the unhappy woman, as if fearing this
+revelation would cause David to renounce his generous undertaking.
+"Alas, monsieur, the greater my misfortune, the more desperate my
+straits, the more you should pity me! Once more I beseech you not to
+forsake my son. My only hope is in you. What will become of me? What
+will become of him if you do? Besides, I tell you he was not in his
+right mind. He was delirious; he was mad!"
+
+"You need have no fears of my abandoning your son, madame. Difficulties
+do not discourage me; they only impel me to renewed efforts. But you are
+mistaken in supposing that Frederick was insane. The deed was the
+inevitable result of the hatred that is consuming him."
+
+"Oh, no, no, I cannot believe--"
+
+"On the contrary, the conviction should reassure instead of alarming
+you. Frederick's animosity reached its highest pitch at that time, and
+we now know the full extent of the malady. The cause of this hatred is
+still shrouded in mystery, but I feel confident that we shall soon
+fathom it, and then the cure will be comparatively easy. We have many
+things in our favour. Frederick's tender years, his antecedents, your
+tender solicitude, my constant vigilance. All that is noble and generous
+in your son is paralysed temporarily, but rest assured that, purified by
+the very ordeal through which he is now passing, your son will some day
+not only realise but even surpass your most sanguine hopes."
+
+Henri David's tone was so earnest and convincing, there was such an
+expression of deep interest on his manly face, that Madame Bastien felt
+hope once more spring up in her heart, and she exclaimed, with profound
+emotion:
+
+"The only thanks, monsieur, that I can give you--"
+
+"Thanks, you owe me no thanks, madame," interrupted Henri David. "Our
+friend showed you my letter, and you know that in the work I am about to
+undertake I hope to find distraction from cruel grief, and that I also
+regard it as a sacred tribute to the memory of a deeply lamented
+brother."
+
+"I shall not insist, monsieur, particularly as my words would so
+inadequately express my feelings, but I must say one word in relation to
+a rather painful subject," added Madame Bastien, lowering her eyes and
+blushing deeply. "I must ask your pardon in advance for the modest life
+you will be obliged to lead here, and I--"
+
+"Permit me to interrupt you, here and now, madame," interposed David,
+smiling. "I have travelled a great deal, through uncivilised as well as
+civilised countries, so I am half sailor, half soldier, in the
+simplicity of my habits."
+
+"But this is not all, monsieur," continued Madame Bastien, with
+increasing embarrassment. "I live alone most of the time. My husband's
+business keeps him away from home a great deal, but sometimes he spends
+several days here."
+
+"Permit me to interrupt you once more, madame," said David, touched by
+Madame Bastien's evident embarrassment, particularly as he divined what
+she was about to say to him. "Our mutual friend, the doctor, has told me
+something of M. Bastien's habits, and you will find me anxious to do
+everything possible to prevent my presence here from disturbing that
+gentleman's habits. I shall also do everything in my power to win his
+toleration, if not his regard; for, my work once begun, it would
+distress me very much to see it suddenly interrupted. In short, as I
+cannot remain here without M. Bastien's permission, I shall do my best
+to win his toleration, and any concessions which my self-respect will
+permit of will, I assure you, be cheerfully made."
+
+Madame Bastien was deeply impressed by M. David's delicacy. She could
+not doubt that Doctor Dufour had told his friend of M. Bastien's
+habitual coarseness, and that the generous man who was consecrating
+himself to Frederick's salvation with such disinterested devotion had
+made up his mind in advance to many disagreeable and even humiliating
+experiences, though his pecuniary independence and his nobility of
+character made him superior.
+
+Marie was the first to break the silence that ensued.
+
+"M. David," she said, with gentle dignity, "will you let me show you to
+the room I must beg you to occupy here?"
+
+David bowed, and followed her in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+It was nearly dark.
+
+Madame Bastien took a lamp, and, passing through the little dining-room
+where Marguerite was laying the table for the frugal evening meal, led
+the way to the garret, which was divided into three rooms, one occupied
+by Marguerite, another by the gardener, while the third was allotted to
+the tutor.
+
+This was M. Bastien's arrangement. His wife had vainly endeavoured to
+convince him of the impropriety of lodging a tutor in this fashion, and
+had begged him to allow her to fit up a room on the floor below for his
+use, but he had flown into a violent passion, and declared that, if his
+wife disobeyed him, he would send the spouter of Latin up to the garret
+where he belonged as soon as he found it out.
+
+Madame Bastien knew he was quite capable of carrying this threat into
+execution, so, to spare the new tutor such a humiliation, she had
+resigned herself to seeing her son's preceptor occupy a room so little
+in harmony with the importance of his functions.
+
+If the young woman had taken so much to heart what she regarded as an
+insult to the dignity of her son's former tutor, one can judge of her
+feelings when it was inflicted upon Henri David, whose disinterestedness
+merited such heartfelt gratitude. Consequently, it was with painful
+confusion that she opened the door of the garret room which she had done
+her best to make cosy and inviting. A small blue and white china vase
+containing a bouquet of chrysanthemums and late roses stood on the
+walnut table, the floor was of spotless whiteness, the white curtains
+were tied back with ribbons, in short, a desire to make the plainness of
+the apartment forgotten by dint of assiduous care and good-will was
+everywhere apparent.
+
+"It is with deep regret, I assure you, that I am compelled to offer you
+this room," said Madame Bastien, "but my utter inability to place a more
+suitable apartment at your disposal must be my excuse."
+
+Henri David could not repress a slight movement of surprise as he
+glanced around him, and, after a brief silence, he said, with a
+melancholy smile:
+
+"By a singular chance, madame, this room strongly resembles one I
+occupied in boyhood beneath my father's roof, and it is pleasant to be
+thus reminded of the happiest years of my life."
+
+When they went down-stairs they found supper ready.
+
+"I am very much afraid that Frederick will refuse to come to the table
+this evening. Excuse me a moment, monsieur, while I go and call him."
+
+Having learned from Marguerite that Frederick was in his room, Madame
+Bastien hastened there, and found her son thoughtfully pacing the room.
+
+"Supper is ready, my son," his mother said. "Won't you come?"
+
+"Thanks, I am not hungry, mother. I intend to go to bed almost
+immediately."
+
+"You are not feeling ill, I trust?"
+
+"No; only tired. I seem to need rest."
+
+"I hope, my son, that you will consider how your words would have pained
+M. David, who already feels the tenderest interest in you, if he had not
+felt certain that he would soon overcome your prejudice by his kindness.
+He will be to you not a master, but a friend; I would say a brother but
+for the disparity in your ages."
+
+Frederick made no reply. His mouth contracted slightly, and he hung his
+head, and Madame Bastien, who had made a careful study of her son's
+face for some time past, saw that he was resolved to maintain an
+obstinate silence, so she insisted no further, but rejoined M. David.
+
+After a frugal supper, Henri, wishing to divert his companion's
+thoughts, begged her to let him see Frederick's note-books and
+exercises, as well as some of the essays he had written in happier days,
+hoping he might find in these last some clue to the origin of the
+unfortunate ideas which seemed to have taken such entire possession of
+his mind.
+
+While the new tutor was thus engaged the young mother watched him
+closely, in order that she might judge of the effect these specimens of
+Frederick's work produced upon him. Soon he took up an essay Frederick
+had written upon a theme suggested by his mother, and at first the young
+mother felt doubtful of its success, for M. David's features remained
+grave and thoughtful, but suddenly he smiled, and the smile was followed
+by several approving nods of the head, and two or three times he even
+murmured, "Good, very good." Then something seemed to displease him, for
+he crumpled one of the sheets of manuscript impatiently, and his
+features became impassible again as he continued his reading.
+
+Marie's face reflected each shade of feeling depicted on David's face;
+but soon, and for the first time in a long while, the happy mother,
+forgetting her anxieties at least temporarily, could once more rejoice
+in Frederick's triumphs, for the signs of approbation on the new tutor's
+part became more frequent. He not only appeared to take a deep interest,
+but likewise a personal pride and delight in what he was reading, and at
+last he exclaimed, suddenly:
+
+"No, no; it is impossible that the author of sentiments as noble and
+generous as these should not listen sooner or later to the voice of
+justice and reason. May I ask, madame, if this was written very long
+before the time at which you first began to notice the change in your
+son's character?"
+
+After a moment's reflection, Madame Bastien replied:
+
+"As nearly as I can recollect, this was written just before a visit we
+paid to the Château de Pont Brillant the latter part of June. It was not
+until about a month afterward that I began to feel uneasy about
+Frederick."
+
+After a moment's thought, David asked:
+
+"Have you anything that Frederick has written since you noticed this
+marked change in his nature? If you have, it might aid us in solving
+this mystery."
+
+"The idea is a good one," replied Madame Bastien, and, struck by a
+sudden recollection, she selected one of her son's books. She handed it
+to M. David, saying as she did so:
+
+"Several pages are lacking here, as you see. I asked Frederick why he
+had mutilated it in this fashion, and he replied that he was
+dissatisfied with what he had written and did not want me to read it.
+This occurred just as I was beginning to feel really anxious about him."
+
+"And you noticed nothing significant in the remaining pages, madame?"
+
+"You can see for yourself, monsieur. Since that time Frederick has
+written little or nothing, his distaste for work becoming more and more
+marked from that time on. In vain I have suggested themes of divers
+kinds; he would write a few lines, then drop his pen, and, burying his
+face in his hands, sit for hours together, deaf alike to all my
+questions and entreaties."
+
+While Madame Bastien was speaking David was hastily glancing over the
+fragmentary writings his hostess had just handed to him.
+
+"It is strange," he remarked, after several minutes, "these incoherent
+lines show none of the nobility of feeling that characterise your son's
+other writings. His mind seems to have become clouded, and the
+lassitude and ennui his work caused him is everywhere apparent. But here
+are a few words which seem to have been carefully erased," added David,
+trying to decipher them.
+
+Marie approached her guest with the intention of assisting him, if
+possible, and as she bent over the table her arm lightly grazed David's.
+
+The pressure was so slight that Marie did not even notice it, but it
+sent a sort of electric thrill through David; but so great was his
+self-control that he remained perfectly impassive, though he realised
+for the first time since he made his generous offer that the woman with
+whom he was to live on such terms of intimacy was young and wonderfully
+beautiful, as well as endowed with the most admirable traits of
+character.
+
+He gave no sign of all this, however, but with Marie's assistance
+continued his efforts to decipher the words Frederick had erased, and
+after patient study they succeeded in making out here and there the
+following phrases which seemed to have no connection whatever with what
+preceded or followed them, but had apparently been jotted down almost
+involuntarily under the influence of some strong emotion. For instance,
+one leaf bore this fragmentary sentence:
+
+" ...for persons doomed to a humiliating obscurity of lot, the inability
+to lift oneself from it is--"
+
+Two or three words at the beginning of the sentence had been entirely
+obliterated.
+
+Farther on, upon another page were these two words, but slightly
+blurred, as if their laconicism was sufficient protection against
+interpretation:
+
+"Why? By what right--"
+
+And lastly, this more complete sentence was deciphered with great
+difficulty:
+
+"Through you, great and holy Revolution, the weak became the strong. The
+hour of vengeance came at last, terrible indeed, but grand and
+far-reaching in its--"
+
+As David was slowly perusing these words a second time as if to gather
+their hidden significance, the clock on the mantel struck twelve.
+
+"Twelve!" exclaimed Madame Bastien, in surprise, "twelve o'clock
+already!"
+
+David rose at once, and, taking the book, said:
+
+"With your permission, madame, I will take this with me. What we have
+deciphered is very vague, but it may give us a clue to the truth. Good
+night, madame."
+
+"Good night, M. David. I gladly accept all the encouragement you hold
+out to me. I need it more than I can tell you. To-morrow will be a
+momentous day to us. God grant it may prove a propitious one."
+
+"God grant it, madame."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+As soon as his mother's words brought a full realisation of the crime he
+had tried to commit, Frederick experienced the keenest remorse; but
+though he was conscientious enough to feel appalled by his attempt at
+homicide, he was far from being cured of his hatred and envy.
+
+During the night that immediately followed Henri David's arrival at the
+farm, Frederick underwent a new transformation that very naturally
+disconcerted both his mother and M. David. Both were instantly struck by
+the change in the lad's expression. It was no longer haughty, sarcastic,
+and defiant, but embarrassed and crestfallen. Madame Bastien and David
+had anticipated a fresh ebullition of temper when Frederick's second
+interview with his tutor took place, but nothing of the kind occurred.
+
+David questioned the lad in relation to his studies; he replied promptly
+and definitely, but in regard to all extraneous subjects he maintained a
+determined silence.
+
+Marie proposed that he take a walk with David, and Frederick consented
+without the slightest demur. During the long walk the new tutor, whose
+stock of information was as extensive as it was varied, tried to call
+Frederick's attention to some of the most interesting phenomena of
+nature, a bit of rock serving as the starting-point for a dissertation
+on the most curious of the different ages of the earth and the
+successive transformation of its inhabitants, while an old ruin near
+the farmhouse led to a series of interesting comments on the warlike
+habits of the middle ages and the narration of a number of quaint old
+legends, to which his youthful companion listened politely but replied
+only in monosyllables.
+
+As soon as they returned Frederick picked up a book and read until
+dinner-time, after which he asked to be excused for the rest of the
+evening.
+
+On being left alone, David and Marie exchanged discontented glances, for
+both felt that the first day had proved a failure.
+
+"I am almost tempted to regret the change I notice in him," remarked
+David, thoughtfully. "Pronounced as his asperity of manner was, it
+nevertheless gave one a sort of hold, but what can one do confronted
+with a surface as hard and polished as glass?"
+
+"But what do you think of this sudden change?"
+
+"Is it the calm that follows the subsidence of the tempest or the
+treacherous calm which often precedes another storm? We shall know by
+and by. This change may be due to my arrival."
+
+"How is that, M. David?"
+
+"Perhaps he feels that our double surveillance will make another attempt
+at vengeance impossible; perhaps he fears that my penetration, united
+with yours, madame, would ferret out his secret, so he increases his
+constraint and reserve."
+
+"And the book you took to your room last night?"
+
+"Has given me a slight clue, perhaps, madame, but it is such a very weak
+and feeble one that I must ask you to pardon me for not even mentioning
+it. Ours is such a difficult and extremely delicate task that the merest
+trifle may make or mar us. So once more I implore you to forgive my
+reticence."
+
+"You ask my pardon, M. David, when your very reserve is a proof of your
+generous solicitude for the person I hold nearest and dearest on
+earth."
+
+As Madame Bastien was preparing for bed that same night, old Marguerite
+came in and said:
+
+"You have been so occupied with M. David since you returned from your
+walk that I have had no chance to tell you about something very
+remarkable that happened to-day."
+
+"What was it, pray?"
+
+"Why, you had been gone about an hour when I heard a great noise at the
+gate of the courtyard, and what should I see there but a grand carriage
+drawn by four splendid horses, and who should be in the carriage but the
+Marquise de Pont Brillant, and she said she wanted to speak to you!"
+
+"To me!" exclaimed Marie, turning pale as the idea that Frederick's
+attempt had been discovered occurred to her. "You must be mistaken,
+Marguerite. I do not know the marquise."
+
+"It was you that the dear good lady wished to see, madame. She even said
+to me that she was terribly disappointed not to find you at home, as she
+came to make a neighbourly call. She intended to come again some day
+soon, with her grandson, but that must not hinder you from coming to the
+castle soon, very soon, to return her visit."
+
+"What can this mean?" Madame Bastien said to herself, greatly puzzled,
+and shuddering at the mere thought of a meeting between Frederick and
+Raoul de Pont Brillant. "She told you she was coming again soon, with--"
+
+"With monsieur le marquis, yes, madame, and the dear lady even added:
+'He is a handsome fellow, this grandson of mine, and as generous as a
+king. Oh, well, as I have had the misfortune to miss Madame Bastien, I
+may as well go. But say, my good woman,' added madame la marquise, 'I am
+frightfully thirsty, can't you get me a nice glass of cold water?'
+'Certainly, madame la marquise,' I replied, ashamed that such a grand
+lady should have to remind me to offer her such a courtesy. But I said
+to myself, 'Madame la marquise asked for water out of politeness, I will
+show my politeness by giving her a glass of wine;' so I ran to my
+pantry, and poured out a big tumbler of wine and set it on a clean plate
+and took it to the carriage."
+
+"You ought to have given Madame de Pont Brillant the glass of water she
+asked for, but it makes no difference."
+
+"Pardon me, madame, but I did right to take her the wine, for she took
+it."
+
+"The big tumbler of wine?"
+
+"Yes, madame, that she did. It is true she only moistened her lips with
+it, but she made another old lady who was with her drink the rest of it,
+and I think she couldn't have been very fond of wine, for she made a
+sort of face after she drank it, and madame la marquise added, 'Tell
+Madame Bastien that we drank to her health and to her beautiful eyes,'
+and when she returned the glass she slipped these five shining gold
+pieces into my hand, saying: 'These are for Madame Bastien's servants on
+condition that they will drink to the health of my grandson, the Marquis
+de Pont Brillant. _Au revoir_, my good woman.' And the handsome coach
+whirled away."
+
+"I am very sorry that you didn't have the delicacy to decline to take
+the money she offered you."
+
+"What, madame, refuse five louis d'or?"
+
+"It is for the very reason that this is such a large sum of money that I
+am so sorry you accepted it."
+
+"I didn't know, madame. It is the first time such a thing ever happened.
+If madame wants me to, I'll take these five gold pieces up to the
+château, and return them to the lady."
+
+"That would only make a bad matter worse, but if you want to please me,
+Marguerite, you will give this hundred francs to the poor of our
+parish."
+
+"I'll do that very thing to-morrow, madame," said Marguerite, bravely,
+"for these gold pieces burn my fingers, now you tell me I did wrong to
+take them."
+
+"Thank you, Marguerite, thank you. I always knew you were a good, true
+woman. But one word more. Does my son know that Madame de Pont Brillant
+was here?"
+
+"No, madame, for I have not told him, and I was alone in the house when
+the carriage came."
+
+"Very well. I don't want my son to know anything about this visit,
+Marguerite."
+
+"I won't breathe a word, then."
+
+"And if Madame de Pont Brillant calls again you are to say that I am not
+at home, whether I am or not."
+
+"What, madame, you won't see this great lady?"
+
+"I am no great lady, my good Marguerite, and I do not crave the society
+of those who are so far above me in rank, so let it be understood that I
+am not at home if Madame de Pont Brillant calls again, and also that my
+son must remain entirely ignorant of to-day's visit."
+
+"Very well, madame, you may trust me for that."
+
+The next morning Madame Bastien informed M. David of the circumstance,
+and he commented on two things that had also struck Madame Bastien,
+though from an entirely different point of view.
+
+"The request for a glass of water was evidently only an excuse for the
+bestowal of an extraordinarily large gratuity," said David. "The lady
+also announced her intention of soon coming again, I understand,
+though--"
+
+"Though she begged me not to trouble myself to return her visit at the
+château," interrupted Marie. "I noted this humiliating distinction, and
+though I had not the slightest intention of responding to Madame de Pont
+Brillant's advances, this warning on her part obliges me to close my
+doors upon her in future. Far from being flattered by this visit, the
+possibility of her returning here, particularly with her grandson,
+alarms me beyond measure, remembering as I do that terrible scene in
+the forest. But this much is certain, the young Marquis de Pont Brillant
+knows nothing of Frederick's animosity. If he did, he certainly would
+not consent to accompany his grandmother here. Ah, monsieur, my brain
+fairly reels when I try to solve the mystery."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two or three days more were devoted to fruitless efforts on the part of
+the mother and tutor.
+
+Frederick remained impenetrable.
+
+At last M. David resorted to heroic measures, and spoke of Raoul de Pont
+Brillant. Frederick changed colour and hung his head, but remained
+silent and impassible.
+
+"He must at least have renounced his idea of vengeance," decided David,
+after studying the youth's face attentively. "The animosity still
+exists, perhaps, but it will at least be passive henceforth."
+
+Marie shared this conviction, so her fears were to some extent allayed.
+
+One day M. David said to Madame Bastien:
+
+"While accepting with comparative cheerfulness the modest existence led
+by the members of your household, madame, has he never seemed to crave
+wealth and luxury, or deplore the fact that he does not possess them?"
+
+"Never, M. David, never have I heard Frederick express a desire of that
+kind. How often has he tenderly exclaimed:
+
+"'Ah, mother, could any lot be happier than ours? What happiness it is
+to be able to live on here with you--'"
+
+But the poor mother could not finish the sentence. This recollection of
+a radiant past was too overpowering.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Each day the intimacy between Henri David and Marie Bastien was
+increased by their common interests and anxieties. There was a continual
+interchange of questions, confidences, fears, plans or hopes, alas!
+only too rare,--all having Frederick for their object.
+
+The long winter evenings were usually passed tête-à-tête, for Madame
+Bastien's son retired at eight o'clock, feigning fatigue in order to
+escape from the solicitude that surrounded him, and that he might pursue
+his gloomy meditations undisturbed.
+
+"I am more unhappy now than ever," he said to himself. "In times gone by
+my mother's continual questions about my secret malady irritated me; now
+they break my heart and augment my despair. I understand all my mother
+must suffer. Each day brings some new proof of her tender commiseration
+and her untiring efforts to cure me, but, alas! she can never forgive
+nor forget my crime. I shall be to her henceforth only an object of
+compassion. I think exactly the same of M. David that I do of my mother.
+I do full justice to his devotion to me and to my mother, but it is
+equally powerless to cure me, and to efface the remembrance of the vile
+and cowardly act of which I was guilty."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile Henri David, believing himself on the track at last, was
+extending his researches to the most trivial subjects, at least
+apparently. Convinced that Frederick had powerful reasons for concealing
+his feelings from his mother, he might exercise less constraint in his
+intercourse with the two old servants on the place. Henri questioned
+them closely, and thus became cognisant of several highly significant
+facts. Among others, a beggar to whom Frederick had always been very
+generous said to the gardener: "M. Frederick has changed very much. He
+always used to be so kind-hearted, but to-day he gruffly told me: 'Apply
+to M. le marquis. He is so rich! Let him help you!'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Bastien usually saw David several times a day.
+
+One day he did not make his appearance at all.
+
+When supper-time came Marguerite went to tell him that the meal was on
+the table, but David bade the servant say to Madame Bastien that, not
+feeling very well, would she kindly excuse him for not coming down as
+usual?
+
+Frederick, too, refused to leave his room, so Marie, for the first time
+since Henri David's arrival, spent the evening alone.
+
+This loneliness caused a feeling of profound depression, and she was
+assailed by all sorts of gloomy presentiments.
+
+When she went to her room about eleven o'clock, her son was asleep, or
+pretended to be asleep, so sadly and silently she slipped on a wrapper
+and let down her long hair, preparatory to brushing it for the night,
+when old Marguerite, coming in as usual to inquire if her mistress
+wanted anything before retiring, remarked, as she was about to withdraw:
+
+"I forgot to ask you if André could have the horse and cart to go to
+Pont Brillant to-morrow morning, madame?"
+
+"Yes," answered Marie, abstractedly.
+
+"You know why André has got to go to the village, don't you, madame?"
+
+"No," replied Marie, with the same deeply absorbed air.
+
+"Why, it is to take M. David's things. He is going away, it seems."
+
+"Great Heavens!" exclaimed Madame Bastien, letting the mass of hair she
+had been holding fall upon her shoulders, and, turning suddenly to the
+old servant, "What are you saying, Marguerite?"
+
+"I say that the gentleman is going away, madame."
+
+"What gentleman?"
+
+"Why, M. David, M. Frederick's new tutor, and it is a pity, for--"
+
+"He is going away?" repeated Madame Bastien, interrupting Marguerite in
+such a strangely altered voice, and with such an expression of grief and
+dismay, that the servant gazed at her wonderingly. "There must be some
+mistake. How do you know that M. David is going away?"
+
+"He is sending his things away."
+
+"Who told you so?"
+
+"André."
+
+"How does he know?"
+
+"Why, yesterday M. David asked André if he could get a horse and cart to
+send some trunks to Pont-Brillant in a day or two. André told him yes;
+so I thought I ought to tell you that André intended to use the horse
+to-morrow, that is all."
+
+"M. David has become discouraged. He abandons the task as an
+impossibility. The embarrassment and regret he feels are the cause of
+his holding himself so sedulously aloof all day. My son is lost!"
+
+This was Marie's first and only thought. And, wild with despair,
+forgetting her disordered toilet and the lateness of the hour, she
+rushed up-stairs and burst into David's room, leaving Marguerite
+stupefied with amazement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+When Marie presented herself so unexpectedly before him, David was
+seated at his little table in the attitude of meditation. At the sight
+of the young woman, pale, weeping, her hair dishevelled, and in the
+disorder of her night-dress, he rose abruptly, and, turning as pale as
+Marie herself, at the fear that some dreadful event had taken place,
+said:
+
+"Madame, what has happened? Has Frederick--"
+
+"M. David!" exclaimed the young woman, "it is impossible for you to
+abandon us in this way!"
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"I tell you, that you shall not leave, no, you cannot have the heart to
+do it. My only, my last hope is in you, because--you know it well, oh,
+my God!--I have no one in the world to help me but you!"
+
+"Madame, a word, I implore you."
+
+Marie, clasping her hands, continued in a supplicating voice:
+
+"Mercy, M. David, be good and generous to the end. Why are you
+discouraged? The transports of my son have ceased, he has given up his
+plans for vengeance. That is already a great deal, and that I owe to
+your influence. Frederick's dejection increases, but that is no reason
+for despair. My God! My God! Perhaps you think me ungrateful, because I
+express my gratitude to you so poorly. It is not my fault. My poor child
+seems as dear to you as to me. Sometimes you say _our_ Frederick; then I
+forget that you are a stranger who has had pity on us! Your tenderness
+toward my son seems to me so sincere that I am no more astonished at
+your devotion to him than at my own."
+
+In his astonishment, David had not at first been able to find a word;
+then he experienced such delight in hearing Marie portray her gratitude
+in such a touching manner that, in spite of himself, he did not reassure
+her, perhaps, as soon as he could have done so. Nevertheless,
+reproaching himself for not putting an end to the agony of this unhappy
+woman, he said:
+
+"Will you listen to me, madame?"
+
+"No, no," cried she, with the impetuosity of grief and entreaty. "Oh,
+you surely will have pity, you will not kill me with despair, after
+having made me hope so much! How can I do without you now? Oh, my God!
+what do you think will become of us if you go away? Oh, monsieur, there
+is one memory which is all-powerful with you, the memory of your
+brother. In the name of this memory, I implore you not to abandon
+Frederick. You have been as tender with him as if he were your own child
+or your own brother. These are sacred links which unite you and me, and
+you will not break these links without pity; no, no, it cannot be
+possible!"
+
+And sobs stifled the voice of the young woman.
+
+Tears came also to the eyes of David, and he hastened to say to Madame
+Bastien, in a voice full of emotion:
+
+"I do not know, madame, what has made you think that I intended to go
+away. Nothing was farther from my thought."
+
+"Really!" exclaimed Marie, in a voice which cannot be described.
+
+"And if I must tell you, madame, while I have not been discouraged, I
+have realised the difficulty of our task; but to-day, at this hour, for
+the first time I have good hope."
+
+"My God, you hear him!" murmured Marie with religious fervour. "May this
+hope not be in vain!"
+
+"It will not be, madame, I have every reason to believe, and, far from
+contemplating departure, I have spent my time in reflecting all this
+day, because to-morrow may offer something decisive. And in order that
+my reflections might not be interrupted, I did not appear at dinner,
+under the pretext of a slight indisposition. Calm yourself, madame, I
+implore you in my turn. Believe that I have only one thought in the
+world, the salvation of our Frederick. To-day this salvation is not only
+possible, but probable. Yes, everything tells me that to-morrow will be
+a happy day for us."
+
+It is impossible to describe the transformation which, at each word of
+David, was manifested in the countenance of the young woman. Her face,
+so pale and distorted by agony, became suddenly bright with joyous
+surprise; her lovely features, half veiled by her loose and beautiful
+hair, now shone with ineffable hope.
+
+Marie was so adorably beautiful, thus attired in her white
+dressing-gown, half open from the violent palpitations of her bosom,
+that a deep blush mounted to David's brow, and the passionate love that
+he had so long felt, not without dread, now took possession of his
+heart.
+
+"M. David," continued Madame Bastien, "surely you will not deceive me
+with false hope, in order to escape my prayers, and spare yourself the
+sight of my tears. Oh, forgive me, forgive me! I am ashamed of this last
+doubt, the last echo of my past terror. Oh, I believe you, yes, I
+believe you! I am so happy to believe you!"
+
+"You can do so, madame, for I have never lied," replied David, scarcely
+daring to look up at Marie, whose beauty intoxicated him almost to
+infatuation. "But who, madame, has led you to suppose that I was going
+away?"
+
+"It was Marguerite who told me a little while ago in my chamber; then,
+in my dismay, I ran to you."
+
+These words reminded David that the presence of Madame Bastien in his
+chamber at a late hour of the night might seem strange to the servants
+of the house, in spite of the affectionate respect with which they
+regarded the young mother, so, taking advantage of the excuse she had
+just offered, he advanced to the threshold of his door, left open during
+this conversation, and called Marguerite in a loud voice.
+
+"I beg your pardon, madame," said he to Marie, who looked at him with
+surprise. "I would like to know why Marguerite thought I was going
+away."
+
+The servant, astonished and frightened by the sudden flight of her
+mistress, hurried to David's chamber, and he at once said to her:
+
+"My dear Marguerite, you have just been the cause of great distress to
+Madame Bastien, by telling her that I was preparing to leave the house,
+and that, too, at a time when Frederick, this poor child whom you have
+seen from his birth, has need of all our care. In her deep anxiety,
+Madame Bastien ran up here; fortunately, I have been able to satisfy
+her; but, again, how came you to think I was about to leave?"
+
+"As I told madame, M. David, you had asked André for a horse and cart to
+carry trunks to Pont Brillant. Then, I thought--"
+
+"That is true," said David, interrupting Marguerite.
+
+Then, addressing Marie, he said:
+
+"A thousand pardons, madame, for having given reason for the mistake
+which has caused you so much anxiety. The story is simply this: I had
+charge of some boxes of books that I was to deliver, upon my arrival at
+Senegal, to one of my compatriots. In departing from Nantes, I had, in
+my preoccupation of mind, given order to address my baggage here; these
+boxes, contrary to my intention, were included in the list, and it
+was--"
+
+"To return them to Nantes by the coach which passes Pont Brillant that
+you asked for a horse and cart, was it not, M. David?" said the old
+servant.
+
+"Exactly, my dear Marguerite."
+
+"It is the fault of André, too," said the servant. "He told me trunks. I
+said trunks or effects, which are the same thing, but, thank God! you
+have calmed madame, and you must stay, M. David, because, if left alone,
+she will have trouble with poor M. Frederick."
+
+During this interchange of explanation between Marguerite and David,
+Madame Bastien, altogether encouraged, came, so to speak, to herself
+entirely; then feeling her hair float over her half-naked bosom, she
+thought of the disorder of her attire; but she was so pure and
+unaffected, so much the mother more than the woman, that she attached no
+importance to the fact of her nocturnal interview with David; but when
+her instinct of natural modesty awakened, she reflected upon the
+embarrassment and painful awkwardness of running to David's chamber in
+her night-dress, and she saw at once the delicacy of sentiment which he
+had obeyed in calling Marguerite and demanding an explanation of the
+circumstances.
+
+These reflections filled her mind while David and Marguerite were
+conversing upon the subject.
+
+Not knowing how to arrange her disordered toilet without being seen by
+David, and feeling that any attempt at arrangement was a tacit avowal of
+her embarrassment, however excusable, the young woman found a way out of
+the complication.
+
+The servant wore a large red woollen shawl. Madame Bastien took it and
+silently wrapped it around herself, then, as many of the women of the
+country do, she put it over her head and crossed it, so that her
+floating hair was half hidden and she was enveloped to her waist in the
+long folds of the shawl.
+
+This was done with so much quickness that David did not perceive the
+metamorphosis in Marie's costume until she said to her servant, with
+affectionate familiarity:
+
+"My good Marguerite, forgive me for taking your shawl, but to-night is
+freezing, and I am cold."
+
+If David had found the young woman adorably beautiful and attractive
+with dishevelled hair and all in white, he beheld a still more
+captivating beauty in her as she stood wrapped in this mantle of
+scarlet; nothing could have more enhanced the soft brilliancy of her
+large blue eyes, the lovely colour of her brown hair, and the delicate
+rose of her complexion.
+
+"Good night, M. David," said the young mother; "after having entered
+your room in despair, I leave it greatly encouraged, since you tell me
+that to-morrow will be a day of decisive experience for Frederick, and
+perhaps a day of happiness for us."
+
+"Yes, madame, I have good hope, and if you will permit it, to-morrow
+morning, before seeing Frederick, I would like to meet you in the
+library."
+
+"I will await you there, M. David, and with great impatience. God grant
+that our anticipations may not be mistaken. Good night again, M. David.
+Come, Marguerite."
+
+Long after the young woman had left the chamber of David, he stood
+motionless in the same place, trembling with rapture, as he pictured to
+himself the enchanting loveliness of the face sheltered under the folds
+of the scarlet shawl.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+The next morning at eight o'clock David awaited Madame Bastien in the
+library; she soon arrived there.
+
+"Good morning, madame," said the preceptor to her. "Well, how now about
+Frederick?"
+
+"Really, M. David, I do not know if I ought to rejoice or feel alarmed,
+for last night something very strange happened."
+
+"What is that, madame?"
+
+"Overcome by the emotions of yesterday evening, I slept one of those
+profound and heavy sleeps, the awakening from which often leaves you in
+a state of torpor for a few moments, and you are hardly conscious of
+what is passing around you. Suddenly it seemed to me that, half awake, I
+do not know why, I saw indistinctly by the light of the lamp Frederick
+leaning over my bed. He looked at me and was weeping as he said,
+'Good-bye, mother, good-bye.' I wanted to speak to him and tried to do
+so, but the torpor against which I was struggling prevented me for some
+minutes. At last, after a desperate effort of my will, I woke,
+thoroughly. Frederick had disappeared. Still quite bewildered, I asked
+myself if this apparition was a dream or a reality. After waiting a
+while I went to my son's chamber. He was sleeping or pretended to be
+sleeping soundly. In my doubt, I did not dare awake him, for the poor
+child sleeps so little now!"
+
+"And have you mentioned the incident of last night to him this morning?"
+
+"Yes; but he appeared to be so sincerely surprised at what I told him,
+and declared so naturally that he had not left his chamber, that I do
+not know what to think. Have I been the dupe of an illusion? In my
+constant thought of Frederick, could I have taken a dream for reality?
+That is possible. Yet it seems to me I can still see my son's face
+bathed in tears and hear his distressed voice say to me, 'Good-bye,
+mother, good-bye!'--but pardon me, monsieur," said Madame Bastien, in an
+altered voice, holding her handkerchief to her eyes, "the very memory of
+this word 'good-bye' makes me wretched. Why these good-byes? Where does
+he wish to go? Dream or reality, this word distresses me, in spite of
+myself."
+
+"Calm yourself, madame," said David, after having listened attentively
+to Madame Bastien. "I think, with you, that the apparition of Frederick
+has been an illusion produced by the continual tension of your mind. A
+thousand examples attest the possibility of such hallucinations."
+
+"But this word--good-bye? Ah, I cannot tell you the anguish of heart it
+has caused me, the gloomy foreboding that it leaves with me still."
+
+"Pardon me, madame, but do not attach any importance to a dream. I say
+dream, because it is difficult to admit the reality of this incident.
+Would Frederick come and weep by your pillow, and tell you good-bye
+during your sleep? Why do you think he wishes to leave you? Where could
+he go, now that our united watchfulness guards his every step?"
+
+"That is true, M. David; yet--"
+
+"Pray, take courage, madame, and, besides, you have just told me that,
+with the exception of this incident, you did not know whether to rejoice
+or feel alarm,--what is the cause of that?"
+
+"This morning Frederick appeared calm, almost contented; he no longer
+had an air of dejection; he smiled, and embraced me as in the past, with
+tender effusion, imploring me to forgive him for the grief he had
+caused me, and promising to do everything in the world to make me forget
+it. So, taking your assuring words of yesterday, and this unexpected
+language of my son, and the kind of satisfaction that I read in his
+countenance, together, I ought to be happy--very happy."
+
+"In fact, madame, why should you feel alarmed? This sudden change, which
+agrees with my hopes and plans so marvellously, ought, on the
+contrary--"
+
+David was interrupted by the entrance of Frederick.
+
+Pale, as usual, but his brow serene and lips smiling, he advanced to his
+preceptor with an air of frankness, and said, with a mingling of
+deference and cordiality:
+
+"M. David, I wish to ask your indulgence and your forgiveness for a poor
+half-foolish boy, who, upon your arrival here, said such words to you as
+would have made him blush with shame if he had been aware of his
+thoughts and actions. Since that time this poor boy has become less
+rude, although he has remained unimpressed by the thousand evidences of
+kindness which you have given him. Of all these wrongs he repents. Will
+you grant me his pardon?"
+
+"With all my heart, my brave boy," replied David, exchanging a look of
+surprise and happiness with Madame Bastien.
+
+"Thank you, M. David," replied Frederick, pressing with emotion the
+hands of his preceptor in his own; "thank you for my mother and for
+myself."
+
+"Ah, my child," said Madame Bastien, quickly, "I cannot tell you how
+happy you make me; our sad days are all at an end."
+
+"Yes, mother; and I swear to you that it will not be I who will cause
+you sorrow."
+
+"My dear Frederick," said David, smiling, "you know that I am not an
+ordinary preceptor, and that I love to take the fields for my
+study-hall; the weather is quite fine this morning, suppose we go out
+for a walk."
+
+Frederick started imperceptibly.
+
+Then he replied, immediately:
+
+"I am at your service, M. David."
+
+And turning to Madame Bastien, he said:
+
+"Good-bye, mother!" and embraced the young woman.
+
+It is impossible to describe what Madame Bastien felt when she heard the
+words, "Good-bye, mother."
+
+These words which, the night before, whether illusion or reality, had
+filled her heart with such gloomy forebodings!
+
+Marie thought, too, that her son, so to speak, made his kisses linger
+longer than was his habit, and that his hand that she held trembled in
+her own.
+
+The emotion of the young mother was so intense that her face became
+deadly pale, and she exclaimed, in spite of herself, with an accent of
+fright:
+
+"My God, Frederick, where are you going?"
+
+David's eyes did not leave Madame Bastien a moment; he understood all,
+and said to her, with the most natural air in the world, at the same
+time placing intentional stress on certain words:
+
+"Why, madame, Frederick has said _good-bye_ to you because he is going
+to take a walk with me."
+
+"Of course, mother," added the young man, struck with the emotion of
+Madame Bastien, and secretly throwing on her an anxious and penetrating
+glance.
+
+David surprised this glance, and he made an expressive sign to Madame
+Bastien, as much as to say:
+
+"What have you to fear? Am I not there?"
+
+"That is true; my fears are foolish," thought Madame Bastien. "Is not M.
+David with Frederick?"
+
+All this passed in much less time than it takes to write it. The
+preceptor, taking Frederick by the arm, said to Madame Bastien, smiling:
+
+"It is probable, madame, that our class in the open field will last
+until breakfast. You see that I am without pity for my pupil. I wish to
+bring him back to you weary with fatigue."
+
+Madame Bastien opened the glass door which led into the study hall under
+the grove.
+
+David and Frederick went out.
+
+The youth evaded his mother's glance a second time.
+
+For a long time the young woman remained sad and thoughtful on the
+threshold of the door, her eyes fixed on the road that her son and David
+had taken.
+
+"I leave the choice of our walk to you, my dear child," said David to
+Frederick, when they had reached the edge of the forest.
+
+"Oh, my God, M. David, it matters little to me," replied Frederick,
+honestly, "but since you leave the choice to me, I am going to take you
+to a part of the wood that you perhaps are not acquainted
+with,--look,--near that clump of fir-trees that you see down there on
+the top of the hill."
+
+"True, my child, I have never been on that side of the forest," said
+David, walking with his pupil toward the designated spot.
+
+More and more surprised at the strange coincidence between his hopes and
+the sudden alteration in the son of Madame Bastien, David observed him
+attentively and remarked that almost always he held his head down,
+although, as they crossed the forest, he had two or three times turned
+involuntarily to look at his mother, whom he could see through the vista
+of tall trees, standing in the door.
+
+After examining him for some minutes, David discovered that this
+calmness of Frederick was feigned. Once out of the presence of his
+mother, the young man not only did not control himself long at a time,
+but became anxious and abstracted, his features contracting sometimes in
+pain, and again assuming an expression of painful serenity, if such a
+thing can be said, which alarmed David no little.
+
+Not to frighten Madame Bastien, he had tried to persuade her that the
+apparition of Frederick, on the preceding night, was only a dream. But
+David did not so believe; he regarded Frederick's farewells to his
+sleeping mother a reality. This circumstance, with what he had just
+observed in the lad, made him fear that his pupil's sudden change was a
+piece of acting, and might conceal some sinister motive.
+
+"But, fortunately," thought David, "I am here with him."
+
+When they had left the forest, Frederick took a road covered with turf,
+across the fallow ground, which, leaving the wood around Pont Brillant
+to the right, conducted him to the crest of a little hill where stood
+five or six isolated fir-trees.
+
+"My dear child," said David, at the end of a few minutes, "I am so
+pleased with the words of affectionate confidence you addressed to me
+this morning, because they could not have come at a better time."
+
+"Why is that, M. David?"
+
+"Because, secure in this confidence and affection that I have tried to
+inspire in you up to this time, I will now be able to undertake a task
+which at first seemed very difficult."
+
+"And what is this task?"
+
+"To make you as happy as you were formerly."
+
+"I!" exclaimed Frederick, involuntarily.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But," replied Frederick, with self-repression, "I am no longer unhappy,
+I said so this morning to my mother; the malady that I suffered from,
+and which has embittered my feelings, has disappeared almost entirely.
+Besides, M. Dufour has told my mother that it is at an end."
+
+"Truly, my child, you are no longer unhappy? All your sorrows are at an
+end? Your heart is free, contented, and joyous, as it used to be?"
+
+"Monsieur--"
+
+"Alas! my dear Frederick, the integrity of your heart will prevent your
+dissimulating a long time. Yes, although you have told your mother this
+morning she need have no fear, you are suffering this very hour, and
+perhaps more than in the past."
+
+Frederick's features contracted. David's penetration crushed him, and,
+to avoid his glances, he looked downward.
+
+David watched him closely, and continued:
+
+"Even your silence, my dear child, proves to me that the task which I
+have undertaken, to render you as happy as you have been in the past, is
+still to be fulfilled. No doubt you are astonished that I have not tried
+to undertake it before. The reason for it is simple enough. I did not
+wish to venture without absolute certainty, and it was only yesterday
+that I arrived at a certainty of conviction concerning the malady which
+oppresses you, indeed, which is killing you. Now I know the cause."
+
+Frederick trembled with dismay. This dismay, mingled with surprise, was
+painted in every look he cast upon David.
+
+Then, regretting the betrayal of his feelings, the young man relapsed
+into gloomy silence.
+
+"What I have told you, my child, astonishes you, and it ought to do so,"
+replied David, "but," added he, in a tone of tender reproach, "why are
+you frightened at my penetration? When our friend, Doctor Dufour, healed
+you of a mortal ailment, was he not obliged, in order to combat your
+disease, to know the cause of it?"
+
+Frederick said nothing.
+
+During several minutes, as the two were approaching the hill upon which
+stood the lonely fir-trees, the son of Madame Bastien had from time to
+time glanced slyly and uneasily at his companion. He seemed to fear the
+miscarriage of some project which he had been contemplating since he had
+left his mother's house.
+
+Just as they finished talking, David observed that the road bordering on
+the crest of the hill changed into a narrow path which skirted the clump
+of fir-trees, and that Frederick, in an attitude of apparent deference,
+had stopped a moment, as if he did not wish to step in advance of his
+preceptor. David, attaching no importance to so natural and trivial an
+incident, passed on before the youth.
+
+At the end of a few moments, not hearing Frederick's step behind him, he
+turned around.
+
+The son of Madame Bastien had disappeared.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+David, bewildered with astonishment, continued to look around him.
+
+At his right extended the fallow ground, across which meandered the road
+which, with Frederick, he had just followed to arrive at the crest of
+the hill, and he discovered then for the first time, as he took several
+steps to the left, that on this side this bend of the ground was cut
+almost perpendicular, in a length of three or four hundred feet, and
+hung over a great wood, the highest summits of which reached only to a
+third of the escarpment.
+
+From the culminating point where he stood, David, commanding the plain a
+long distance, satisfied himself that Frederick was neither before nor
+behind him, nor was he on his right; he must then have disappeared
+suddenly by the escarpment on the left.
+
+David's anguish was insupportable when he thought of Madame Bastien's
+despair if he should return to her alone. But this inactive terror did
+not last long. A man of great coolness and of a determination often put
+to the test in perilous journeys, he had acquired a rapidity of decision
+which is the only hope of safety in extreme danger.
+
+In a second he made the following argument, acting, so to speak, as he
+thought:
+
+"Frederick has escaped from me only on the side of the escarpment; he
+has not thrown himself down this precipice, I would have heard the sound
+of his falling body as it broke the branches of the great trees I see
+there below me; he has then descended by some place known to himself;
+the ground is muddy, I ought to discover his tracks; where he has passed
+I will pass, he cannot be more than five minutes in advance of me."
+
+David had travelled on foot with Indian tribes in North America, and,
+more than once in the chase, separated from the main body of his
+companions in the virgin forests of the New World, he had learned from
+the Indians with whom he hunted how, by means of rare sagacity and
+observation, to find those who had disappeared from his sight.
+
+Returning then to the spot where he had first perceived that Frederick
+had disappeared, David saw in the length of five or six metres, no other
+than that made by his own steps; but suddenly he recognised Frederick's
+tracks turning abruptly toward the edge of the escarpment, which they
+coasted for a little, then disappeared.
+
+David looked down below.
+
+At a distance of about fifteen feet the top of an elm extended its
+immense arms so far as to touch the steep declivity of the escarpment.
+Between the thick foliage of this tree-top and the spot where he was
+standing, David observed a large cluster of broom, which one could reach
+by crawling along a wide gap in the clayey soil; there he discovered
+fresh footprints.
+
+"Frederick succeeded in reaching this tuft of brushwood," said David,
+taking the same road with as much agility as daring, "and afterward,"
+thought he, "suspending himself by the hands, he placed his foot on one
+of the largest branches at the top of the elm, and from there descended
+from branch to branch until he reached the foot of the tree."
+
+In David the action accompanied the thought always. In a few minutes he
+had glided to the top of the tree; a few little branches broken
+recently, and the erosion of the bark in several spots where Frederick
+had placed his feet, indicated his passage.
+
+When David had slowly descended to the foot of the tree, the thick bed
+of leaves, detached by the autumn and heaped upon the soil, rendered the
+exploration of Frederick's path more difficult; but the slight
+depression of this foliage where he had stepped, and the broken or
+separated underbrush, very thick in spots he had just crossed, having
+been carefully noted by David, served to guide him across a vast
+circumference. When he came out of this ground he heard a hollow sound,
+not far distant, but quite startling, which he had not noticed before in
+the midst of the rustling of branches and dry leaves.
+
+This startling noise was the sound of many waters.
+
+The practised ear of David left him no doubt upon the subject. A
+horrible idea entered his mind, but his activity and resolution,
+suspended a moment by fright, received a new and vigorous impulse. The
+enclosure from which he had just issued bordered on a winding walk where
+the moist soil still showed the tracks of Frederick's feet. David
+followed it in great haste, because he perceived by the intervals and
+position of these tracks that in this spot the young man had been
+running.
+
+But soon a hard, dry soil, as it was sandy and more elevated, succeeded
+the soft lowlands, and no more tracks could be seen.
+
+David then found himself in a sort of cross-roads where he could hear
+distinctly the sound of the Loire, whose waters, swollen to an unusual
+degree in a few days, roared with fury.
+
+David at once resolved to run straight to the river, guiding himself by
+its sound, since it was impossible any longer to follow Frederick by his
+tracks. Full of anguish and concern for the boy's mother,--an anguish
+all the more intense from the recollection of the farewells addressed to
+her by Frederick,--he darted across the wood in an easterly direction
+according to the roar of the river.
+
+At the end of ten minutes, leaving the undergrowth, David ran across a
+prairie which ended with the bluff of the river. This bluff he cleared
+in a few bounds.
+
+At his feet he saw an immense sheet of water, yellow, rapid, and
+foaming, the waves of which broke and died upon the sand.
+
+As far as his view extended, David, panting from his precipitate run,
+could discover nothing.
+
+Nothing but the other shore of the river drowned in mist.
+
+Nothing but a gray and sullen sky, from which a beating rain began to
+fall.
+
+Nothing but this muddy stream muttering like distant thunder, and
+forming toward the west a great curve, above which rose the solid mass
+of the forest of Pont Brillant dominated by its immense castle.
+
+Suddenly reduced to enforced inaction, David felt his strong and valiant
+soul bow beneath the weight of a great despair.
+
+Against this despair he vainly struggled, hoping that perhaps Frederick
+had not resolved upon this terrible step. He even went so far as to
+attribute the disappearance of the young man to a schoolboy's trick.
+
+Alas! David did not keep this illusion long; a sudden blast of wind
+which blew violently along the current of the river brought almost to
+David's feet, as it rolled and tossed it upon the sand, a cap of blue
+cloth bound with a little Scotch border, which Frederick had worn that
+morning.
+
+"Unhappy child!" exclaimed David, his eyes full of tears, "and his
+mother, his mother! oh, this is terrible!"
+
+Suddenly he heard, above the roar of the waters, and brought by the
+wind, a long cry of distress.
+
+Remounting at once the bank opposite the wind which brought this cry to
+his ears, David ran with all his might in the direction of the call.
+
+Suddenly he stopped.
+
+These words, uttered with a heartrending cry, reached his ear:
+
+"My mother! oh, my mother!"
+
+A hundred steps before him, David perceived, almost at the same time, in
+the middle of the surging waters, the head of Frederick, livid!
+frightful! his long hair matted on his temples, his eyes horribly
+dilated, while his arms, in a last struggle, moved convulsively above
+the abyss.
+
+Then the preceptor saw no more, save a wider, deeper bubbling in the
+spot where he had discovered the body.
+
+A light of hope, nevertheless, illumined David's manly face, but feeling
+the imminence of the peril and the danger of a blind precipitation,--for
+he had need of all his skill and all his strength, and, too, of all
+possible freedom from restraint,--he had the self-possession, after
+having thrown off his coat and vest, to take off his cravat, his
+stockings, and even his suspenders.
+
+All this was executed with a sort of deliberate quickness which
+permitted David, while he was removing his garments, to follow with an
+attentive eye the current of the river, and coolly to calculate how far
+Frederick would be carried by the current. He calculated correctly. He
+saw soon, at a little distance, and toward the middle of the river,
+Frederick's long hair lifted by the waves, and the skirt of his hunting
+jacket floating on the water.
+
+Then all disappeared again.
+
+The moment had come.
+
+Then David with a firm and sure gaze measured the distance, threw
+himself in the stream, and began to swim straight to the opposite shore,
+estimating, and with reason, that in cutting the breadth of the river,
+keeping count of the drift, he ought to reach the middle of the Loire a
+little before the current would carry Frederick's body there.
+
+David's foresight made no mistake; he had already gained the middle of
+the stream when he saw at his left, drifting between two waves, the
+body of Madame Bastien's son, entirely unconscious.
+
+Seizing Frederick's long hair with one hand, he began to swim with the
+other hand, and reached the shore by means of the most heroic efforts,
+tortured every moment with the thought that perhaps, after all, he had
+rescued only a corpse.
+
+At last he trod upon the shore. Robust and agile, he took the young man
+in his arms and laid him on the turf, about a hundred steps from the
+spot where he had left his garments.
+
+Then, kneeling down by Frederick, he put his hand upon the poor boy's
+heart. It was not beating, his extremities were stiff and cold, his lips
+blue and convulsively closed, nor did one breath escape from them.
+
+David, terrified, lifted the half-closed eyelid of the youth: his eye
+was immovable, dull and glassy.
+
+The rain continued to flow in torrents over this inanimate body. David
+could no longer restrain his sobs. Alone, on this solitary shore, with
+no help near, when help was so much needed,--powerful and immediate
+help, even if one spark of life still remained in the body before him!
+
+David was looking around him, in desperate need, when at a little
+distance he saw a thick column of smoke rising from behind a projecting
+angle of the embankment, which, no doubt, hid some inhabited house from
+his sight.
+
+To carry Frederick in his arms, and, in spite of his heavy burden, to
+run to this hidden habitation, was David's spontaneous act. When he had
+passed this angle, he perceived at a little distance one of the
+brick-kilns so numerous on the borders of the Loire, as brickmakers find
+in this latitude all the necessary materials of clay, sand, water, and
+wood.
+
+Making use of his reminiscences of travel, David recalled the fact that
+the Indians inhabiting the borders of the great lakes, often restore
+their half-drowned companions to life, and awaken heat and circulation
+of the blood, by means of large stones which are made hot,--a sort of
+drying-place, upon which they place the body while they rub the limbs
+with spirits.
+
+The brickmakers came eagerly to David's assistance. Frederick, enveloped
+in a thick covering, was extended on a bed of warm bricks, and exposed
+to the penetrating heat which issued from the mouth of the oven. A
+bottle of brandy, offered by the head workman, was used in rubbing. For
+some time David doubted the success of his efforts. Nevertheless some
+little symptoms of sensibility made his heart bound with hope and joy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour after having been carried to the brick-kiln, Frederick,
+completely restored, was still so feeble, notwithstanding his
+consciousness, that he was not able to utter a word, although many times
+he looked at David with an expression of tenderness and unspeakable
+gratitude.
+
+The preceptor and his pupil were in the modest chamber of the master
+workman, who had returned to his work near the embankment, and with his
+labourers was observing the level of the stream, which had not reached
+such a height in many years, for the inhabitants of these shores were
+always filled with fear at the thought of an overflow of the Loire.
+
+David had just administered a warm and invigorating drink to Frederick,
+when the youth said, in a feeble voice:
+
+"M. David, it is to you that I shall owe the happiness of seeing my
+mother again!"
+
+"Yes, you will see her again, my child," replied the preceptor, pressing
+the son's hands in his own, "but why did you not think that to kill
+yourself was to kill your mother?"
+
+"I thought of that too late. Then I felt myself lost, and I cried, 'My
+mother!' when I should have cried, 'Help!'"
+
+"Fortunately, that supreme cry I heard, my poor child. But now that you
+are calm, I implore you, tell me--"
+
+Then, interrupting himself, David added:
+
+"No, after what has passed, I have no right to question you. I shall
+wait for a confession which I wish to owe only to your confidence."
+
+Frederick felt David's delicacy, for it was evident that his preceptor
+did not desire to abuse the influence given by a service rendered, by
+forcing a confidence from him.
+
+Then he said, with tears in his eyes:
+
+"M. David, life was a burden to me. I judged of the future by the past,
+and I wished to end it. Yet, that night, when during my mother's sleep I
+bade her farewell, my heart was broken. I thought of the sorrow that I
+would cause her in killing myself, and for a moment I hesitated, but I
+said to myself, 'My life will cost her more tears perhaps than my
+death,' and so I decided to put an end to it. This morning I asked her
+to forgive all the grief I had caused her, I also asked you to forgive
+me for the wrongs I had done to you, M. David. I did not wish to carry
+with me the animadversion of anybody. To remove all suspicion I affected
+calmness, certain of finding during the day some means of escaping your
+watchfulness and that of my mother. Your invitation to go out this
+morning served my plans. I was acquainted with the country. I directed
+our walk toward a spot where I felt sure I could escape from you and
+from your assistance, and I do not know how it was possible for you to
+find a trace of me, M. David."
+
+"I will tell you that, my child, but continue."
+
+"The hurry, the eagerness of my flight, the noise of the wind and the
+waters, seemed to intoxicate me, and then, on the horizon, I saw rise up
+before me, like an apparition, the--" Here a light flush coloured
+Frederick's cheeks, and he did not finish his sentence.
+
+David mentally supplied it, and said to himself:
+
+"This unhappy child, in his moment of desperation, saw, as it commanded
+the shore of the river from afar, the castle of Pont Brillant."
+
+After a short silence, Frederick continued:
+
+"As I told you, M. David, I seemed intoxicated, almost mad, for I do not
+recollect at what spot on the river I threw myself in. The cold in the
+water seized me, I thought I was going to die, and then I was afraid.
+Then the thought of my mother came back to me. I seemed to see her, as
+in a dream, throw herself upon my cold, dead body. I did not want to
+die, and I cried, 'My mother! my mother!' as I tried to save myself, for
+I know very well how to swim; but the cold made me numb, and I felt
+myself sinking to the bottom. As I heard the river roar above my head I
+made a desperate effort, and came to the surface of the water, and then
+I lost consciousness until I found myself here, M. David,--here where
+you have brought me,--saved me as if I were your child,--here, where my
+first thought has been of my mother."
+
+And Frederick, fatigued by the emotion of this recital, leaned his elbow
+on the bed where they had carried him, and remained silent, his head
+resting on his hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+The conversation between David and Frederick was interrupted by the
+brickmaker, who entered the chamber, looking very much frightened.
+"Monsieur," said he, hurriedly, to David, "the cart is ready. Go quick."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked David.
+
+"The Loire is still rising, monsieur. Before two hours all my little
+furniture and effects will be swept away."
+
+"Do you fear an overflow?"
+
+"Perhaps, monsieur, for the rising of the waters is becoming frightful,
+and, if the Loire overflows, to-morrow nothing will be seen of my
+brick-kiln but the chimneys. So, for the sake of prudence, I must move
+you out. The cart which takes you home, will, on its return, carry my
+furniture away."
+
+"Come, my child," said David to Frederick, "have courage. You see we
+have not a moment to lose."
+
+"I am ready, M. David."
+
+"Fortunately our clothes are dry, thanks to this hot furnace. Lean on
+me, my child."
+
+As they left the house, Frederick said to the brickmaker:
+
+"Pardon me, sir, for not being able to thank you better for your kind
+attention, but I will return."
+
+"May Heaven bless you, my young gentleman, and grant that you may not
+find a mass of rubbish when you return to this place, instead of this
+house."
+
+David, without Frederick's knowledge, gave two gold pieces to the
+brickmaker, as he said, in a low voice:
+
+"That is for the cart."
+
+A few minutes elapsed, and the son of Madame Bastien left the brick-kiln
+with David in the rustic conveyance filled with a thick layer of straw,
+and covered over with a cloth, for the rain continued to fall in
+torrents.
+
+The cart driver, wrapped in a wagoner's coat, and seated on one of the
+shafts, urged the gait of the horse, that trotted slowly and heavily.
+
+David insisted that Frederick should lie down in the cart, and lean his
+head on his knees; thus seated in the back of the cart, he held the
+youth in a half embrace, and watched over him with paternal solicitude.
+
+"My child," said he, carefully wrapping Frederick in the thick covering
+loaned by the brickmaker, "are you not cold?"
+
+"No, M. David."
+
+"Now, let us agree upon facts. Your mother must never know what has
+happened this morning. We will say, shall we not, that, surprised by a
+beating rain, we obtained this cart with great difficulty? The
+brickmaker thinks you fell in the water by imprudently venturing too
+near the slope of the embankment. He has promised me not to noise abroad
+this accident, the reports of which might frighten your mother. Now,
+that being agreed upon, we will think of it no more."
+
+"What kindness! what generosity! You think of everything. You are right;
+my mother must not know that you have saved my life at the risk of your
+own, and yet--"
+
+"What your mother ought to know, my dear Frederick, what she ought to
+see, is that I have kept the promise that I made to her this morning,
+for time presses."
+
+"What promise?"
+
+"I promised her to cure you."
+
+"Cure me!" and Frederick bowed his head with grief. "Cure me!"
+
+"And this cure must be accomplished this morning."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that in an hour, upon our arrival at the farm, you must be the
+Frederick of former times, the glory and pride of your mother."
+
+"M. David!"
+
+"My child, the moments are numbered, so listen to me. This morning, at
+the time you disappeared, I said to you, 'I know the cause of your
+illness.'"
+
+"You did say that to me, truly, M. David."
+
+"Well, now, the cause is envy!"
+
+"Oh, my God!" murmured Frederick, overwhelmed with shame, and trying to
+slip away from David's embrace.
+
+But the latter pressed Frederick all the more tenderly to his heart, and
+said, quickly:
+
+"Lift up your head, my child,--there is no need for shame, envy is an
+excellent quality."
+
+"Envy an excellent quality!" exclaimed Frederick, sitting up and staring
+at David with bewildered astonishment. "Envy!" repeated he, shuddering.
+"Ah, monsieur, you do not know what it produces."
+
+"Hatred? so much the better."
+
+"So much the better! but hatred in its turn--"
+
+"Gives birth to vengeance, so much the better still."
+
+"M. David," said the young man, falling back on his straw couch with
+sadness, "you are laughing at me, and yet--"
+
+"Laughing at you, poor child!" said David, in a voice full of emotion,
+as he drew Frederick back to him, and pressed him to his breast with
+affection. "I laugh at you! do not say that. To me, more than to anyone
+else, grief is sacred. I laugh at you. You do not know then, at first
+sight of you, I was filled with compassion, with tenderness, because,
+you see, Frederick, I had a young brother about your age--"
+
+And David's tears flowed, until, choked with emotion, he was obliged to
+keep silent.
+
+Frederick's tears flowed also, and he in his turn embraced David,
+looking at him with a heart-broken expression, as if he wished to ask
+pardon for making him weep.
+
+David understood him.
+
+"Be calm, my child; these tears, too, have their sweetness. Well, the
+brother I speak of, this young beloved brother, who made my joy and my
+love, I lost. That is why I felt for you such a quick and keen interest,
+that is why I wish to return you to your mother as you were in the olden
+time, because it is to return you to happiness."
+
+The accent, the countenance of David, as he uttered these words, were of
+such a melancholy, pathetic sweetness that Frederick, more and more
+affected, answered, timidly:
+
+"Forgive me, M. David, for having thought you were laughing at me,
+but--"
+
+"But what I said to you seemed so strange, did it not, that you could
+not believe that I was speaking seriously?"
+
+"That is true."
+
+"So it ought to be, nevertheless my words are sincere, and I am going to
+prove it to you."
+
+Frederick fixed on David a look full of pain and eager curiosity.
+
+"Yes, my child, envy, in itself, is an excellent quality; only you, up
+to this time, have applied it improperly,--you have envied wickedly
+instead of envying well."
+
+"Envy well! Envy an excellent quality!" repeated Frederick, as if he
+could not believe his ears. "Envy, frightful envy, which corrodes, which
+devours, which kills!"
+
+"My poor child, the Loire came near, just now, being your tomb. Had that
+misfortune happened, would not your mother have cried, 'Oh, the accursed
+river which kills,--accursed river which has swallowed up my son!'"
+
+"Alas, M. David!"
+
+"And if these fears of inundation are realised, how many despairing
+hearts will cry, 'Oh, accursed river! our houses are swept away, our
+fields submerged.' Are not these maledictions just?"
+
+"Only too just, M. David."
+
+"Yes; and yet this river so cursed fertilises its shores. It is the
+wealth of the cities by which it flows. Thousands of boats, laden with
+provisions of all sorts, plough its waves; this river so cursed
+accomplishes truly a useful mission, that God has given to everything he
+has created, because to say that God has created rivers for inundation
+and disaster would be a blasphemy. No, no! It is man, whose ignorance,
+whose carelessness, whose egotism, whose greed, and whose disdain change
+the gifts of the Creator into plagues."
+
+Frederick, struck with his preceptor's words, listened to him with
+increasing interest.
+
+"Just now, even," continued David, "unless heat from the fire had
+penetrated your benumbed limbs, you would, perhaps, have died, yet how
+horrible are the ravages of fire! Must we curse it and its Creator? What
+more shall I say to you? Shall we curse steam, which has changed the
+face of the earth, because it has caused so many awful disasters? No,
+no! God has created forces, and man, a free agent, employs those forces
+for good or for evil. And as God is everywhere the same in his
+omnipotence, it is with passions as with elements; no one of them is bad
+in itself, they are levers. Man uses them for good or for evil,
+according to his own free will. So, my child, your troubles date from
+your visit to the castle of Pont Brillant, do they not?"
+
+"Yes, M. David."
+
+"And you felt envy, keenly and deeply, did you not, when you compared
+the obscurity of your name and your poor, humble life with the splendid
+life and illustrious name of the young Marquis of Pont Brillant?"
+
+"It is only too true."
+
+"Up to that point, these sentiments were excellent."
+
+"Excellent?"
+
+"Excellent! You brought with you from the castle living and powerful
+forces; they ought, wisely directed, to have given the widest range to
+the development of your faculties. Unhappily, these forces have burst in
+your inexperienced hands, and have wounded you, poor dear child! Thus,
+to return to yourself, all your pure and simple enjoyments were
+destroyed by the constant remembrance of the splendours of the castle;
+then, in your grievous, unoccupied covetousness, you were forced to hate
+the one who possessed all that you desired; then vengeance."
+
+"You know!" cried Frederick, in dismay.
+
+"I know all, my child."
+
+"Ah, M. David, pardon, I pray you," murmured Frederick, humiliated, "it
+was remorse for that base and horrible act that led me to think of
+suicide."
+
+"I believe you, my child, and now that explains to me your unconquerable
+dejection since I arrived at your mother's house. You meditated this
+dreadful deed?"
+
+"I thought of it for the first time, the evening of your arrival."
+
+"This suicide was a voluntary expiation. There are more profitable ones,
+Frederick, my dear boy. Besides, I am certain that if envy was the germ
+of your hatred toward Raoul de Pont Brillant, the terrible scene in the
+forest was brought about by circumstances that I am ignorant of, and
+which ought to extenuate your culpable act."
+
+Frederick hung his head in silence.
+
+"Of that we will speak later," said David. "Now, let us see, my child;
+what did you envy the most in the young Marquis of Pont Brillant? His
+riches? So much the better. Envy them ardently, envy them sincerely, and
+in this incessant, energetic envy, you will find a lever of incalculable
+power. You will overcome all obstacles. By means of labour,
+intelligence, and probity, you will become rich. Why not? Jacques
+Lafitte was poorer than you are. He wished to be rich, and he became a
+millionaire twenty times over. His reputation is without a stain, and he
+always extended a hand to poverty, always favoured and endowed honest,
+courageous work. How many similar examples I could cite you!"
+
+Frederick at first looked at his preceptor with profound surprise; then,
+beginning to comprehend the significance of his words, he put his hands
+on his forehead, as if his mind had been dazzled by a sudden light.
+
+David continued:
+
+"Let us go farther. Did the wealth of the marquis fill your heart only
+with covetous desire, instead of a sentiment of hatred and revolt
+against a society where some abound with superfluous possession, while
+others die for want of the necessaries of life? Very well, my child,
+that is an excellent sentiment; it is sacred and religious, because it
+inspired the Fathers of the Church with holy and avenging words. So, at
+the voice of great revolutions, the divine principle of fraternity, of
+human equality, has been proclaimed. Yes," added David, with a bitter
+sadness, "but proclaimed in vain. Priests, denying their humble origin,
+have become accomplices of wealth and power in the hands of kings, and
+have said to the people, 'Fate has devoted you to servitude, to misery,
+and to tears, on this earth.' Was not this a blasphemy against the
+fatherly goodness of the Creator,--a base desertion of the cause of the
+disinherited? But in our day this cause has valiant defenders, and
+blessed are these sentiments that the sight of wealth inspires in you,
+if it throws you among the people of courage who fight for the
+imperishable cause of equality and human brotherhood."
+
+"Oh!" cried Frederick, with clasped hands, his face radiant, and his
+heart throbbing with generous enthusiasm, "I understand, I understand."
+
+"Let us see," pursued David, with increasing animation; "for what else
+did you envy this young marquis? The antiquity of his name? Envy it,
+envy it, by all means. You will have what is better than an ancient
+name; you will make your own name illustrious, and more widely
+celebrated than that of Pont Brillant. Art, letters, war! how many
+careers are open to your ambition! And you will win reputation. I have
+studied your works; I know the extent of your ability, when it is
+increased tenfold by the might of a determined and noble emulation."
+
+"My God! my God!" cried Frederick, with enthusiasm, his eyes filled with
+tears, "I cannot tell what change has come over me. The darkness of
+night has been turned to day,--the day of the past, and even brighter
+than the past. Oh, my mother! my mother!"
+
+"Let us go on," continued David, unwilling to leave the least doubt in
+Frederick's mind; "does the envy you feel when you hear the ancient name
+of Pont Brillant manifest itself by a violent hatred of aristocratic
+tradition, always springing up, sometimes feudal, and sometimes among
+the citizenship? Exalt this envy, my child. Jean Jacques, in protesting
+against the inequality of material conditions, was sublimely envious,
+and our fathers, in destroying the privileges of the monarchy, were
+heroically, immortally envious."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Frederick, "how my heart beats at your noble words, M.
+David! What a revelation! What was killing me, I realise now, was a
+cowardly, barren envy. Envy for me was indolence, despair, death. Envy
+ought to be action, hope, and life. In my impotent rage I only knew how
+to curse myself, others, and my own nonentity. Envy ought to give me the
+desire and strength to come out of my obscurity, and I will come out of
+it."
+
+"Good! good! dear, brave child!" exclaimed David, in his turn, pressing
+Frederick to his breast. "Oh, I was certain I could cure you! An easy
+task with a generous nature like yours, so long cherished by the most
+admirable of mothers. Tender and excellent heart!" added he, no longer
+able to restrain his tears. "This morning, as you were about to drown,
+your last cry was, 'My mother! my mother!' You are born again to hope
+and life, and your first cry is still, 'My mother! my mother!'"
+
+"I owe you my life," murmured Frederick, responding to the ardent
+embrace of his preceptor. "I owe you the life of my body as well as the
+life of my soul, M. David."
+
+"Frederick, my child," said David, with inexpressible emotion, "call me
+your friend. That name I deserve now, do I not? It will replace the
+sweet and cherished name I can never hear again,--my brother!"
+
+"Oh, my friend!" cried Frederick, with exaltation, "and you will see me
+worthy of the name of friend."
+
+A moment of silence succeeded this outburst of sentiment, as David and
+Frederick held each other in close embrace.
+
+The preceptor was the first to speak.
+
+"Now, my dear child, I must appeal to your candour on a last and
+important matter. It may be severe, even relentless to me, but not
+unjust. Tell me, if--"
+
+David could not finish. Entirely absorbed in their conversation, the
+preceptor and his pupil had not noticed the route, until the cart
+suddenly stopped a short distance from the farm gate.
+
+Marie Bastien, greatly distressed at the prolonged absence of her son,
+had been standing long under the rustic porch of her house, eagerly
+looking for his return.
+
+At the sight of the covered cart, as it approached the farm, an
+inexplicable presentiment told the young woman that her son was there.
+Then, divided between fear and joy, she ran to meet the cart, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"Frederick, is it you?"
+
+David was interrupted in his remarks, and the cart stopped.
+
+With one bound, the son of Madame Bastien leaped from the cart, threw
+himself on his mother's neck, covered it with kisses and tears, as he
+cried, with a voice broken by sobs:
+
+"Mother, saved! No more trouble! saved, mother, saved!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+At these words of Frederick, "Saved, mother, saved," Marie Bastien
+looked at her son with mingled feelings of joy and surprise; already he
+seemed another person, almost transfigured, his head lifted, his smile
+radiant, his look inspired; his beautiful eyes were illuminated by an
+inward joy; the young mother was amazed. Scarcely had her son cried,
+"Saved," when Marie divined by David's attitude, his countenance, and
+the serenity of his face, that he had brought Frederick back to her,
+truly regenerated.
+
+What means, what miracle could have produced so rapid and so unexpected
+a result? Marie did not question herself. David had given Frederick back
+to her as he used to be, so she said. Then, in an almost religious
+outburst of gratitude, she threw herself at David's feet; when he
+extended his hands to raise her, Marie seized them, pressed them
+passionately in her own, and cried in a voice trembling with all the
+emotions of maternal love:
+
+"My life, my whole life, M. David, you have given me back my son!"
+
+"Oh, my mother! Oh, my friend!" cried Frederick.
+
+And, with an irresistible embrace, he pressed both Marie and David to
+his heart; David, sharing the impulsive joy of the young man, united
+with him in the same long caress.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madame Bastien was not informed of the danger which her son had incurred
+that morning. Frederick and David removed their damp clothing, and then
+rejoined Madame Bastien, who, plunged in a sort of ecstasy, was
+wondering how David had wrought the miracle of Frederick's cure.
+
+At the sight of each other, the mother and son renewed their
+demonstrations of affection, and in this ineffable embrace, the young
+woman sought the glance of David, almost involuntarily, as if to
+associate him with her maternal caresses, and to render him thanks for
+the happiness she enjoyed.
+
+Frederick, looking around him, appeared to contemplate every object in
+the little library with affection.
+
+"Mother," said he, after a moment of silence, with a smile full of
+charm, "you will think I am silly, but it seems to me I cannot tell the
+time since I entered this room, so long it seems, since the evening we
+went to the castle of Pont Brillant. Our books, our drawings, our piano,
+even my old armchair in which I used to work, seem like so many friends
+that I have met again after a long absence."
+
+"I understand you, Frederick," said Madame Bastien, smiling. "We are
+like the sleepers in the story of the 'Sleeping Beauty.' Our sleep, not
+so long as hers, has lasted five months. Bad dreams have disturbed it,
+but we awake as happy as we were before we went to sleep, do we not?"
+
+"Happier, mother!" added Frederick, taking David's hand. "At our
+awakening, we found one friend more."
+
+"You are right, my child," said the young mother, giving David a look
+beaming with rapture.
+
+Then, seeing Frederick open the glass door which led to the grove, she
+added:
+
+"What are you going to do? The rain has stopped, but the weather is
+still overcast and misty."
+
+"The weather overcast and misty?" cried Frederick, going out of the
+house and looking at the century-old grove, with delight. "Oh, mother,
+can you say the weather is gloomy? Well, I must seem foolish to you,
+but our dear old grove looks to me as bright and smiling as it does
+under the sun of springtime."
+
+The young man did appear to be born again; his features expressed such
+true, radiant happiness, that his mother could only look at him in
+silence. She saw him again as handsome, as sprightly, as joyous as
+formerly, although he was pale and thin, and yet every moment his cheeks
+would flush with some sweet emotion.
+
+David, for whom every word of Frederick had a significance, enjoyed this
+scene intensely.
+
+Suddenly the young man stopped a moment as if in a dream, before a group
+of wild thorns which grew on the edge of the grove; after some moments
+of reflection, he sought his mother's eyes, and said to her, no longer
+cheerful, but with a sweet melancholy:
+
+"Mother, in a few words, I am going to tell you of my cure. So," added
+he turning to David, "you will see that I have profited from your
+teaching, my friend."
+
+For the first time, Marie noticed that her son called David his friend.
+The satisfaction she felt at this tender familiarity was easily read on
+her countenance, as Frederick continued:
+
+"Mother, it was M. David who asked me to call him, hereafter, my friend.
+He was right; it would have been difficult for me to have said 'M.
+David' any longer; now, mother, listen to me well,--do you see that
+clump of blackthorn?"
+
+"Yes, my child."
+
+"Nothing seems more useless than this thorn with its darts as sharp as
+steel,--does it, mother?"
+
+"You are right, my child."
+
+"But let our good old André, our gardener and chief of husbandry, insert
+under the bark of this wild bush a little branch of a fine pear-tree,
+and you will see this thorn soon transformed into a tree laden with
+flowers, and afterward with delicious fruit. And yet, mother, it is
+always the same root, sucking the same sap from the same soil. Only
+this sap, this power, is utilised. Do you comprehend?"
+
+"Admirably, my child. It is important that forces or powers should be
+well employed, instead of remaining barren or injurious."
+
+"Yes, madame," answered David, exchanging a smile of intelligence with
+Frederick, "and to follow this dear child's comparison, I will add that
+it is the same with those passions considered the most dangerous and
+most powerful, because they are the most deeply implanted in the heart
+of man. God has put them there; do not tear them out; only graft this
+thorny wild stock, as Frederick has said, and make it flower and
+fructify by means of the sap which the Creator has put in them."
+
+"That reminds me, M. David," said the young woman, impressed with this
+reasoning, "that in speaking of hatred, you have told me that there were
+hatreds which were even noble, generous, and heroic."
+
+"Well, mother," said Frederick, resolutely, "envy, like hatred, can
+become fruitful, heroic,--sublime."
+
+"Envy!" exclaimed Marie Bastien.
+
+"Yes, envy, because the malady which was killing me was envy!"
+
+"You, envious, you?"
+
+"Since our visit to the castle of Pont Brillant, the sight of those
+wonders--"
+
+"Ah!" interrupted Marie Bastien, suddenly enlightened by this
+revelation, and shuddering, so to speak, with retrospective fear. "Ah,
+now I understand all, unhappy child!"
+
+"Happy child, mother, because this envy, for want of culture, has been a
+long time as black and cruel as the thorn of which we were speaking.
+Just now, our friend," added Frederick, turning to David, with an
+ineffable smile of tenderness and gratitude, "yes, our friend has
+grafted this envy with brave emulation, generous ambition, and you shall
+see the fruits of it, mother; you shall see that by dint of courage and
+labour, I will make your and my name illustrious,--this humble name
+whose obscurity is galling to me. Oh, glory! renown! my mother, what a
+brilliant future! To enable you to say with joy, with pride, 'This is my
+son!'"
+
+"My child, oh, my beloved child!" exclaimed Marie, in a transport of
+joy. "I now comprehend the cure, as I have comprehended the disease."
+
+Then turning to the preceptor she could only say:
+
+"M. David! Oh, M. David!"
+
+And tears, sobs of joy, forbade her utterance.
+
+"Yes, thank him, mother," continued Frederick, carried away by emotion.
+"Love him, cherish him, bless him, for you do not know what goodness,
+what delicacy, what lofty and manly reason, what genius he has shown in
+accomplishing the cure of your son. His words are engraven upon my heart
+ineffaceably; they have recalled me to life, to hope, and to all the
+elevated sentiments I owe to you. Oh! thanks should be given to you,
+mother, for it is your hand still which chose my saviour, this good
+genius who has returned me to you, worthy of you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There are joys impossible to describe. Such was the end of this long day
+for David, Marie, and her son.
+
+Frederick was too full of gratitude and admiration toward his friend not
+to wish to share his sentiments with his mother; the words of his
+preceptor were so present to his thought that he repeated to her, word
+for word, all their long conversation.
+
+Very often Frederick was on the point of confessing to his mother that
+he owed to David, not only the life of his soul, but the life of his
+body. He was prevented only by the promise made to his friend, and the
+fear of undue excitement in the mind of his mother.
+
+As to Marie, taking in at one glance the conduct of David, from the
+first hour of his devotion to the hour of unhoped for triumph;
+recalling his gentleness, his simplicity, his delicacy, his generous
+perseverance, crowned with such dazzling success,--a success obtained
+only by the ascendency of a great heart, and an elevated mind,--what she
+felt for David would be difficult to express; it was mingled affection,
+tenderness, admiration, respect, and especially a passionate gratitude,
+for she owed to David, not only the cure of Frederick, but that future
+to which she looked forward, as illustrious and glorious, nothing
+doubting, now, that Frederick, excited by the ardour of his own
+ambition, directed by the wisdom and skill of David, would one day
+achieve a brilliant destiny.
+
+From this moment, David and Frederick became inseparable in Marie's
+heart, and without taking precise account of her feelings, the young
+woman felt that her life and that of her son were identified with the
+life of David.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We leave to the imagination the delightful evening that passed in the
+library with the mother, the son, and the preceptor. Only as certain
+joys as much as grief oppress the heart, and demand, so to speak,
+digestion in reflection, Marie and her son and David, separated earlier
+than usual, saying "to-morrow" with the sweet anticipation of a joyous
+day.
+
+David went to his little chamber. He had need of being alone.
+
+The words that Frederick had uttered in the transport of his gratitude,
+as he spoke to his mother of the preceptor,--"Love him, cherish him,
+bless him,"--words to which Marie Bastien had responded by a glance of
+inexpressible gratitude, became the joy and the sorrow of David.
+
+He had felt the inmost fibres of his heart thrill many times, in meeting
+the large blue eyes of Marie, as they welled over with maternal
+solicitude; he had trembled in seeing her lavish caresses upon her son,
+and he could but dream of the wealth of ardent affection which this pure
+and at the same time passionate nature possessed.
+
+"What love like hers," said he to himself, "if there is a place in her
+heart for any other sentiment besides that of maternity! How beautiful
+she was to-day, what bewitching expressions animated her face! Oh! I
+feel it, now is my hour of peril, of struggle, and of suffering! Yes,
+the tears of Marie are consecrated! I felt it was a sacrilege to lift my
+eyes to this young weeping mother, so beautiful in her tears. Yet she is
+now radiant with the joy she owes to me, and in her ingenuous gratitude,
+her tender eyes sought me whenever she looked upon Frederick. And think
+of what her son said to her,--'Love him, cherish him, bless him,'--and
+the expressive silence, the pathetic glance of this adorable woman,
+perhaps, may make me believe some day--"
+
+David, not daring to pursue this thought, resumed with sadness:
+
+"Oh, yes, the hour of suffering, the hour of resignation has come.
+Confess my love, or let Marie suspect it, when she owes so much to me?
+Lead her to believe that my devotion to her concealed another design?
+Lead her to believe that, instead of yielding spontaneously to the
+interest this poor child inspired,--thanks to the memory of my lamented
+brother,--I made a cloak, a pretext of this interest to surprise the
+maternal confidence of a young woman? In fact, to lose, in her eyes, the
+only merit of my devotion, my sudden loyalty,--indiscreet, yes, very
+indiscreet, I see it all now,--alas, shall I degrade myself in the eyes
+of Marie? never! never!
+
+"Between her and me will be always her son.
+
+"To fly from this love, shall I leave the house where this love is
+always growing?
+
+"No, I cannot do so yet.
+
+"Frederick to-day, in the intoxication of this revelation which has
+changed his gloomy despair into a will full of faith and
+enthusiasm,--Frederick, suddenly lifted from the abyss where he had
+fallen, experiences the delight of the prisoner all at once restored to
+liberty and light, yet does not this cure need to be established? Will
+it not be necessary to moderate the impetuosity of this young and ardent
+imagination in its enthusiastic conceptions of the future?
+
+"And then, it may be, the first exultation passed,--to-morrow
+perhaps,--Frederick, on the other hand, more self-reliant, and better
+comprehending the generous efforts necessary to reach the fountainhead
+of envy, will remember with more bitterness than ever the dreadful deed
+that he wished to commit,--his desire to murder Raoul de Pont Brillant.
+A fruitful and generous expiation, then, is the only thing which can
+appease this remorse which has tempted Frederick to commit suicide.
+
+"No, no, I cannot abandon this child yet; I love him too sincerely, I
+have the completion of my work too much at heart.
+
+"I must remain.
+
+"Remain, and each day live this intimate, solitary life with Marie,--she
+who came so innocently to this chamber in the middle of the night in a
+dishevelled state, the recollection of which thrills me, even in the
+sleep where I vainly seek for rest."
+
+To this dangerous sleep David yielded, nevertheless, as the emotions and
+fatigues of the day had been very exhausting.
+
+The day was just breaking.
+
+David started out of sleep, as he heard several violent knocks at his
+door, and recognised the voice of Frederick, who said:
+
+"My friend, open, open your door, please!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+David hastened to put on his clothes and opened the door. He saw
+Frederick, his face pale and distorted with fright.
+
+"My child, what is the matter?"
+
+"Ah, my friend, what a misfortune!"
+
+"A misfortune?"
+
+"The Loire--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"The inundation we were speaking of yesterday at the brickmaker's--"
+
+"An overflow,--that is frightful! What a disaster, my God, what a
+disaster!"
+
+"Come, come, my friend, you can no longer see the valley at the edge of
+the forest; it is all a lake of water!"
+
+David and Frederick descended precipitately, and found Madame Bastien in
+the library. She also had risen in haste. Marguerite and the gardener
+were groaning in terror.
+
+"The water is gaining on us."
+
+"The house will be swept away," they cried.
+
+"And the poor farmers in the valley," said Madame Bastien, her eyes
+filled with tears. "Their houses, so isolated, are perhaps already
+submerged, and the miserable people in them, surprised in the night by
+the overflow, cannot get away."
+
+"Then, madame," said David, "we must at once go to the rescue of the
+valley people. Here there is no danger."
+
+"But the water is already within a mile and a half, M. David," cried old
+Marguerite.
+
+"And it continues to rise," added André.
+
+"Be calm, madame," answered David. "I have, since my stay here, gone
+through the country enough to be certain that the overflow will never
+reach this house,--the level of the land is too high. You can set your
+mind at rest."
+
+"But the farmhouses in the valley," cried Frederick.
+
+"The overflow has had time to reach the house of Jean François, the
+farmer, a good, excellent man," cried Marie. "His wife, his children are
+lost."
+
+"Where is this farmhouse, madame?" asked David.
+
+"More than a mile from here in the flats. You can see it from the edge
+of the forest which overlooks the fields. Alas! you can see it if the
+overflow has not swept it away."
+
+"Come, madame, come," said David, "we must run to find out where it is."
+
+In an instant, Frederick, his mother, and David followed by the gardner
+and Marguerite arrived at the edge of the forest, a spot much higher
+than the valley.
+
+What a spectacle!
+
+As far as the eye could reach in the north and the east, one saw only an
+immense sheet of yellow, muddy water, cut at the horizon by a sky
+overcast with dark clouds rapidly hurried along by a freezing wind. At
+the west the forest of Pont Brillant was half submerged, while the tops
+of a few poplars on the plain could be discerned here and there in the
+middle of a motionless and limitless sea.
+
+This devastation, slow and silent as the tomb, was even more terrible
+than the brilliant ravages of a conflagration.
+
+For a moment the spectators of this awful disaster stood still in mute
+astonishment.
+
+David, the first to recover from this unavailing grief, said to Madame
+Bastien:
+
+"Madame, I will return in a moment."
+
+Some minutes after he ran back, bringing an excellent field-glass that
+had served him in many a voyage.
+
+"The fog on the water prevents my distinguishing objects at a great
+distance, madame," said David to Marie. "In what direction is the
+farmhouse you spoke of just now?"
+
+"In the direction of those poplars down there on the left, M. David."
+
+The preceptor directed his field-glass toward the point designated,
+carefully observing the scene for some minutes, then he cried:
+
+"Ah! the unfortunate creatures!"
+
+"Heaven, they are lost!" said Marie, quickly.
+
+"The water has reached half-way up the roof of the house," said David.
+"They are on the roof clinging to the chimney. I see a man, a woman, and
+three children."
+
+"My God!" cried Marie with clasped hands, falling on her knees with her
+eyes raised to heaven, "My God, help them, have pity on them!"
+
+"And no means of saving them!" cried Frederick; "we can only groan over
+such a disaster."
+
+"Poor Jean François, a good man," said André".
+
+"To see his three little children die with him," sobbed Marguerite.
+
+David, calm, grave, and silent, as was his habit in the hour of danger,
+struck his field-glass convulsively in the palm of his hand, and seemed
+to be lost in thought; all eyes were turned to him. Suddenly his brow
+cleared, and with that authority of accent and promptness of decision
+which distinguish the man made to command, he said to Marie:
+
+"Madame, permit me to give orders here, the moments are precious."
+
+"They will obey you as they obey me, M. David."
+
+"André," called the preceptor, "get the cart and horse at once."
+
+"Yes, M. David."
+
+"On the pond not far from the house, I have seen a little boat; is it
+there still?"
+
+"Yes, M. David."
+
+"Is it light enough to be carried on the cart?"
+
+"Certainly, M. David."
+
+"Frederick and I will assist you in placing it there. Run and hitch up;
+we will join you."
+
+André hurried to the stable.
+
+"Now, madame," said David to Marie, "please have prepared immediately
+some bottles of wine and two or three coverings. We will carry them in
+the boat; for these poor people, if we succeed in saving them, will be
+dying of cold and want. Have some beds and a fire made ready, too, that
+every care can be given to them when we arrive. Now, Frederick, we will
+assist André, and go as quickly as possible to the pond."
+
+While David hastily disappeared with Frederick, Madame Bastien and
+Marguerite eagerly executed David's orders.
+
+The horse, promptly hitched to the cart, took David and Frederick to the
+pond.
+
+"My friend," said the young man to his preceptor, his eyes glowing with
+ardour and impatience, "we will save these unfortunate people, will we
+not?"
+
+"I hope so, my child, but the danger will be great; when we pass this
+stagnant water, we will enter the current of the overflow, and it must
+be as rapid as a torrent."
+
+"Well, what matters danger, my friend?"
+
+"We must know it to triumph over it, my child. Now, tell me," added
+David, with emotion, "do you not think that, in thus generously exposing
+your own life, you will more worthily expiate the dreadful deed you
+wished to commit, than by seeking a fruitless death in suicide?"
+
+A passionate embrace on the part of Frederick made David see that he was
+understood.
+
+The cart just at this moment crossed a highway in order to reach the
+pond in time.
+
+A gendarme, urging his horse to a galop, arrived at full speed.
+
+"Is the overflow still rising?" cried David to the soldier, making a
+sign to him with his hand to stop.
+
+"The water is rising all the time, sir," replied the gendarme, panting
+for breath; "the embankments are just broken. There is thirty feet of
+water in the valley--the route to Pont Brillant is cut off--the only
+boat that we had for salvage has just capsized with those who manned it.
+All have perished, and I am hurrying to the castle for more men and
+boats."
+
+And the soldier plunged his rowels into the horse, which was covered
+with foam, and galloped away.
+
+"Oh!" cried Frederick, with enthusiasm, "we will arrive before the
+people from the castle, will we not?"
+
+"You see, my child, envy has some good in it," said David, who
+penetrated the secret thought of Frederick.
+
+The cart soon arrived at the pond. André, Frederick, and David easily
+placed the little boat on the conveyance. At the same time David, with
+that foresight which never forsook him, carefully examined the oars, and
+the tholes which serve to keep the oars in place.
+
+"André," said he to the gardener, "have you a knife?"
+
+"Yes, M. David."
+
+"Give it to me. Now, you, Frederick, return to the house with André;
+hasten the speed of the horse as much as possible, for the water rises
+every minute, and will swallow up the poor people below."
+
+"But you, my friend?"
+
+"I see here some young branches of oak; I am going to cut them so as to
+repair the tholes of the boat; they are old, the green wood is stronger
+and more pliant. Go, go, I will join you in haste."
+
+The cart drove away; the old horse, vigorously belaboured with the
+whip, and smelling the house, as they say, began to trot. David chose
+the wood necessary for his work, soon joined the cart, which he followed
+on foot, as did Frederick, not willing to overburden the horse. As they
+walked, the preceptor gave the tholes a suitable shape; Frederick looked
+at him with surprise.
+
+"You think of everything," said he.
+
+"My dear child, when on my travels over the great lakes of America, I
+frequently saw terrible inundations. I have helped the Indians in
+several salvages and I learned then that a little precaution often
+spares one many perils. So I have prepared three sets of tholes, for it
+is probable we may break some, and as the sailor's proverb says: 'A
+broken thole, a dead oar.'"
+
+"It is true that when an oar lacks a solid support, it becomes almost
+useless."
+
+"And what would become of us in the middle of the gulf with one oar? We
+should be lost."
+
+"That is true, my friend."
+
+"Now we must prepare to row vigorously, for we shall encounter trees,
+and steep banks in roads and other obstructions which may give a violent
+jolt to our oars and perhaps break them. Have you no spare oars?"
+
+"There is another one at the house."
+
+"We will carry it with us, because, if we should lack an oar, the rescue
+of these poor people would become impossible and our loss certain. You
+row well, do you?"
+
+"Yes, my friend, one of my greatest pleasures was to row mother across
+the pond."
+
+"You will be at home with the oars then; I will sound the water and
+direct the boat by means of a boat-hook. I explain to you now my child,
+every essential point, as I shall not have time to address a word to
+you, when we are on the water. Do not let your oars drag. After each
+stroke of the oar, lift them horizontally; they might become entangled
+or break on some obstacle between wind and water, which renders
+navigation so dangerous on these submerged lands."
+
+"I will forget nothing, my friend; make yourself easy," replied
+Frederick, to whom the coolness and experience of David gave unlimited
+courage.
+
+When the cart reached the house, David and Frederick met a great number
+of peasants weeping bitterly, and driving before them all kinds of
+animals. Some were walking by the side of wagons laden with furniture
+piled pell-mell, kitchen utensils, mattresses, clothing, barrels, sacks
+of grain, all snatched in haste from the devouring waves of the
+overflow.
+
+Some women carried nursing children, others had little boys and girls on
+their backs, while the men were trying to guide the frightened beasts.
+
+"Does the water continue to rise, my poor people?" asked David, without
+stopping, and walking along by their side.
+
+"Alas, monsieur, it is still rising; the bridge of Blémur has been
+carried off by the waves," said one.
+
+"There was already four feet of water in the village when we left it,"
+said another.
+
+"The great floats of wood in the basin of St. Pierre have been swept
+into the current of the valley," said a third.
+
+"They came down like a thunderbolt, struck two large boats manned with
+sailors coming to aid the people, and capsized them."
+
+"All those brave men were drowned," said another, "for the Loire at its
+highest water is not half as rapid as the current of the overflow."
+
+"And those unhappy people below!" said Frederick, impatiently. "Shall we
+arrive in time? My God! Oh, if the men from the castle get there before
+we do!"
+
+The cart was at the farm; while they were putting provisions and
+coverings in the little boat, David asked André for a hedging knife, and
+went to select a long branch of the ash-tree, from which he cut about
+ten feet, light, supple, and easily handled. An iron hook, which had
+served as a pulley for a bucket, was solidly fastened to the end of this
+improvised instrument, which would answer to tow the boat from apparent
+obstacles, or to sustain it along the roof of the submerged house; the
+long well-rope was also laid in the little boat, as well as two or three
+light planks, solidly bound together, and capable of serving as a buoy
+of salvage in a desperate case.
+
+David occupied himself with these details, with thoughtful activity, and
+a fruitfulness in expedients, which surprised Madame Bastien as much as
+it did her son. When all was ready, David looked attentively at each
+article, and said to André:
+
+"Drive now as quick as possible to the shore; Frederick and I will join
+you, and will help you in unloading the boat and setting it afloat."
+
+The cart, moving along the edge of the forest where stood David,
+Frederick, and his mother, took the direction of the submerged plain,
+which could be seen at a great distance. The slope being quite steep,
+the horse began to trot.
+
+While the cart was on its way, David took the field-glass that he had
+left on one of the rustic benches in the grove, and looked for the
+farmhouse. The water was within two feet of the comb of the roof, where
+the farmer's family had taken refuge.
+
+David laid his field-glass on the bench, and said in a firm voice to
+Frederick:
+
+"My child, embrace your mother, and let us go; time presses."
+
+Marie trembled in every limb, and turned deadly pale.
+
+For a second there was in the soul of the young woman a terrible
+struggle between duty, which urged her to allow Frederick to accomplish
+a generous action at the risk of his life, and the voice of nature,
+which urged her to prevent her son's braving the danger of death. This
+struggle was so painful that Frederick, who had not taken his eyes from
+his mother, saw her grow weak, frightened at the thought of losing the
+son now so worthy of her love.
+
+So Marie, holding Frederick in her arms to prevent his departure, cried,
+with a heartrending voice:
+
+"No, no, I cannot let him go!"
+
+"Mother," said Frederick to her, in a low voice, "I once wished to kill,
+and there are people there whom I can save from death."
+
+Marie was heroic.
+
+"Go, my child; we will go together," said she.
+
+And she took a step which indicated her desire to go with the boat.
+
+"Madame," cried David, divining her purpose, "this is impossible!"
+
+"M. David, I will not abandon my son."
+
+"Mother!"
+
+"Where you go, Frederick, I will go."
+
+"Madame," answered David, "the boat can only hold five persons. There is
+a man, a woman, and three children to save; to accompany us in the boat
+is to force us to leave to certain death the father, the mother, and the
+children."
+
+At these words, Madame Bastien said to her son, "Go then alone, my
+child."
+
+And the mother and son mingled their tears and their kisses in a last
+embrace.
+
+Frederick, as he left his mother's arms, saw David, in spite of his
+firmness, weeping.
+
+"Mother!" said Frederick, showing his friend to her. "Look at him."
+
+"Save his body as you have saved his soul!" cried the young woman,
+pressing David convulsively against her palpitating bosom. "Bring him
+back to me or I shall die."
+
+David was worthy of the chaste and sacred embrace of this young woman,
+who saw her son about to brave death.
+
+It was a weeping sister that he pressed to his heart.
+
+Then, taking Frederick by the hand, he darted in the direction of the
+cart; both gave a last look at Madame Bastien, whose strength was
+exhausted, as she sank upon one of the rustic benches in the grove.
+
+This attack of weakness past, Marie rose and stood, following her son
+and David with her eyes as long as she could see them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+In a quarter of an hour the little boat was lifted from the cart, and
+soon after was set afloat on the dead waters of the inundation.
+
+"André, stay there with the cart," said the preceptor, "because the
+miserable people, to whose rescue we are going, will be altogether too
+feeble to walk to Madame Bastien's house."
+
+"Well, M. David," said the old man.
+
+And he added with emotion:
+
+"Good courage, my poor M. Frederick."
+
+"My child," said David, just as the boat was leaving the shore, "in
+order to be prepared for any emergency, do as I do. Take off your shoes
+and stockings, your coat and your cravat; throw your coat over your
+shoulders to prevent your taking cold. Whatever happens to me, do not
+concern yourself about me. I am a good swimmer, and in trying to save
+me, you would drown us both. Now, my child, at your oars, and row hard,
+but not too fast; husband your strength. I will be on the watch in
+front, and will sound the waters. Come now, with calmness and presence
+of mind, all will go well."
+
+The boat now had left the shore.
+
+Courage, energy, and the consciousness of the noble expiation he was
+about to attempt, supplied Frederick with all the strength that he had
+lost during his long illness of mind and body.
+
+His beautiful features animated with enthusiasm, his eyes fixed on
+David, watching for every order, the son of Madame Bastien rowed with
+vigour and precision. At each stroke of the oar, the little boat
+advanced rapidly and without obstruction.
+
+David, standing in front, straightening his tall form to its utmost
+height, his head bare, his black hair floating in the wind, his eye
+sometimes fixed on the almost submerged farmhouse, and sometimes on
+objects which might prove an obstacle in their course,--cool, prudent
+and attentive, showed a calm intrepidity. For some moments the progress
+of the boat was unimpeded, but suddenly the preceptor called: "Hold
+oars!"
+
+Frederick executed this order, and after a few seconds the boat stopped.
+
+David, leaning over the craft in front, sounded with his boat-hook the
+spot where he had seen light bubbles rising to the surface, for fear the
+boat might break against some obstacle under the water.
+
+In fact, David discovered that the boat was almost immediately over a
+mass of willow branches, in which the little craft might have become
+entangled if it had been going at its highest speed. Leaning then his
+boat-hook against a log he met in the water, David turned his boat out
+of the way of this perilous obstruction.
+
+"Now, my child," said he, "row in front of you, turning a little to the
+left, so as to reach those three tall poplars you see down there, half
+submerged in the water. Once arrived there, we will enter the middle of
+the overflow's current, which we feel even here, although we are still
+in dead water."
+
+At the end of a few minutes David called again:
+
+"Hold oars!"
+
+And with these words David hooked his boat-hook among the branches of
+one of the poplars toward which Frederick was rowing; these trees,
+thirty feet in height, were three-quarters submerged. Sustained by the
+boat-hook, the little craft remained immovable.
+
+"What! we are going to stop, M. David?" cried Frederick.
+
+"You must rest a moment, my child, and drink a few swallows of this
+wine."
+
+Then David, with remarkable coolness, uncorked a bottle of wine, which
+he offered to his pupil.
+
+"Stop to rest!" cried Frederick, "while those poor people are waiting
+for us!"
+
+"My child, you are panting for breath, your forehead is covered with
+perspiration, your strength is being exhausted; I perceived it by the
+shaking of your oars. We will reach these people in time; the water is
+not rising any longer, I have seen by sure signs. We are going to need
+all our energy and all our strength. Now, five minutes' rest taken at
+the right time may ensure those persons' safety as well as our own.
+Come, drink a few swallows of wine."
+
+Frederick followed this advice, and realised the benefit of it, for
+already, without having dared confess it to David, he felt in the joints
+of his arms that numbness and rigidity which always succeed too much
+fatigue and muscular tension.
+
+During this period of enforced delay the preceptor and his pupil looked
+upon the scene around them with silent horror.
+
+From the point where they were they commanded an immense extent of
+water, no longer dead, such as they had just passed over, but rapid,
+foaming, impetuous as the course of a torrent.
+
+From this vast expanse of water arose such a roar that from one end of
+the little boat to the other Frederick and David were obliged to shout
+aloud, in order to hear each other.
+
+In the distance a line of dark gray water was the only thing which
+marked the horizon.
+
+About six hundred steps from the boat they saw the farmhouse.
+
+The roof had almost completely disappeared under the waters, and human
+forms grouped around the chimney could be vaguely distinguished.
+
+Every moment, at a little distance from the craft, protected from
+collision by the three poplars, which served as a sort of natural
+palisade, thanks to David's foresight, floated all kinds of rubbish,
+carried along on the current which the little boat was to cross in a few
+moments.
+
+On one side, beams and girders, and fragments of carpentry proceeding
+from the crumbling buildings; on the other side, enormous haycocks and
+stacks of straw, lifted from their base and dragged solidly along by the
+waters, like so many floating mountains, submerging everything they
+encountered; again, gigantic trees, torn up by the roots, rushed rapidly
+by as lightly as bits of straw upon a babbling brook, while in their
+rear followed doors unloosed from their hinges, furniture, mattresses,
+and casks, and sometimes in the midst of these wrecks could be seen
+cattle, some drowned, others struggling above the abyss soon to
+disappear under it, and, in strange contrast, domestic ducks,
+instinctively following the other animals, floated over the water in
+undisturbed tranquillity. Elsewhere, heavy carts were whirled above the
+gulf, and sometimes sank under the irresistible shock of immense floats
+of wood a hundred feet long and twenty feet wide borne along with the
+drift.
+
+It was in the midst of these floating perils, upon an impetuous and
+irresistible current, that David and Frederick were forced to direct
+their boat in order to reach the farmhouse.
+
+Then the danger of the salvage was becoming more imminent.
+
+Frederick felt it, and as he saw David survey the terrible scene with an
+expression of distress, he said, in a firm and serious tone:
+
+"You were right, my friend, we shall soon need all our strength and all
+our energy. This rest was necessary, but it seems cruel to take a rest
+with such a spectacle under our eyes."
+
+"Yes, my child, courage is necessary even to take rest; blind
+recklessness does not see and does not try to see the danger, but true
+courage coolly looks at the chances. Hence, it generally triumphs over
+danger. If we had not taken some rest, we would certainly be dragged
+into the middle of the gulf that we are about to cross, and we would be
+destroyed."
+
+Thus speaking, David examined with minute care the equipment of the boat
+and renewed one of the tholes, which had split under the pressure of
+Frederick's oar. For greater surety, David, by means of two knots of
+cord sufficiently loose, fastened the oars to the gunwale a little below
+their handle; in this way they could have free play, without escaping
+from Frederick's hands in the accident of a violent collision.
+
+The rest of the five minutes had reached its end when Frederick,
+uttering an exclamation of involuntary surprise, became deathly pale,
+and could not conceal the distortion of his features.
+
+David raised his head, followed the direction of Frederick's eyes, and
+saw what had alarmed his pupil.
+
+As we have said, the inundation, without limit in the north and the
+east, was bounded in the west by the border of the forest of Pont
+Brillant, whose tall trees had disappeared half-way under the waters.
+
+One of the woods of this forest, advancing far into the inundated
+valley, formed a sort of promontory above the sheet of water.
+
+For some time, Frederick had observed, issuing from this promontory, so
+to speak, and rowing against the current, a long canoe, painted the
+colour of goat leather, and relieved by a wide crimson railing or guard.
+
+On the benches, six oarsmen, wearing chamois skin jackets and crimson
+caps, were rowing vigorously; the cockswain seated at the back, where
+he controlled the canoe, seemed to follow the orders of a young man,
+who, erect upon one of the benches, with one hand in the pocket of his
+mackintosh of a whitish colour, indicated with the index finger of the
+other hand a point which could be nothing else than the submerged
+farmhouse, as, in that part of the valley, no other building could be
+seen.
+
+David's little boat was too far from this canoe to enable him to
+distinguish the features of the person who evidently directed the
+manoeuvre, but from the expression of Frederick's countenance he did not
+doubt that the master of the bark was Raoul de Pont Brillant.
+
+The presence of the marquis on the scene of the disaster was explained
+by the message that the gendarme, whom David met, had carried in haste
+to the castle, demanding boats and men.
+
+At the sight of Raoul de Pont Brillant, whose presence affected
+Frederick so suddenly, David felt as much surprise as satisfaction; the
+meeting with the young marquis seemed providential, and, fixing a
+penetrating glance on his pupil, David said to him:
+
+"My child, you recognise the Marquis de Pont Brillant?"
+
+"Yes, my friend," answered the young man.
+
+And he continued to follow, with a keen and restless eye the movements
+of the yawl, which, evidently, was trying to reach the submerged
+farmhouse, from which it was more distant than the little boat. However,
+the six oarsmen of the patrician craft were rapidly diminishing the
+distance.
+
+"Come, Frederick," said David, in a firm voice, "the Marquis de Pont
+Brillant, like us is going to the help of the unfortunate farmer. It is
+brave and generous of him. Now is the time for you to envy, to be
+jealous of the young marquis indeed!"
+
+"Oh, I will get there before he does!" exclaimed Frederick, with an
+indescribable exaltation.
+
+"To your oars, my child! One last thought of your mother, and forward!
+The hour has come."
+
+So saying, David disengaged his boat-hook from the entanglement of the
+branches of the poplar-trees.
+
+The little boat, set in movement by the vigorous motion of the oars, in
+a few minutes arrived in the middle of the current it must cross in
+order to reach the farmhouse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+Then began a terrible, obstinate struggle against the dangers threatened
+by the elements of nature.
+
+While Frederick rowed with incredible energy, over-excited at the sight
+of the canoe of the marquis, on which from time to time he would cast a
+look of generous emulation, David, sitting in front of the boat, guarded
+it from shocks with an address and presence of mind which was
+marvellous.
+
+Already he had approached the farmhouse near enough to see distinctly
+the unfortunate family clinging to the roof, when an enormous stack of
+straw, carried by the waters, advanced on the right of the boat, which
+presented to the obstacle its breadth in cutting the current.
+
+"Double your strokes, Frederick!" cried David. "Courage! let us avoid
+that stack of straw."
+
+The son of Madame Bastien obeyed.
+
+Already the prow of the little boat had gone beyond the stack of straw,
+which was not more than ten steps distant, when the young man,
+stiffening his arm as he threw himself violently back, so as to give
+more power to his stroke, made too sudden a movement, and broke his
+right oar. Soon, the left oar forming a lever, the boat turned about,
+and, instead of her breadth, presented her prow to the stack, which
+threatened to engulf her beneath its weight.
+
+David, surprised by the sudden jolt, lost for a moment his equilibrium,
+but had time to cry:
+
+"Row firmly with the oar left to you."
+
+Frederick obeyed more by instinct than by reflection. The little boat
+turned again, presented its breadth, and, half raised by the eddy around
+the spheroid mass which had already touched the prow, swung on the
+single oar as if it had been a pivot, thus describing a half circle
+around the floating obstruction, and escaping from it in such a way as
+to receive only a slight shock.
+
+While all this was taking place with the rapidity of thought, David,
+seizing a spare oar from the bottom of the boat, fixed it in the thole,
+saying to Frederick, who was excited by the frightful danger he had just
+escaped:
+
+"Take this new oar and go forward; the canoe is gaining on us."
+
+Frederick seized the oar, at the same time throwing a glance on the
+craft of the young marquis.
+
+It was going directly toward the farmhouse, standing in the current,
+while the little boat was cutting it crosswise.
+
+So, supposing they were of equal speed, the two craft, whose course
+formed a right angle, would meet at the farmhouse.
+
+But, as we have said, the canoe, although it ascended the current, being
+managed by six vigorous oarsmen, was considerably in advance, thanks to
+the accident to which the little boat had nearly fallen a victim.
+
+Frederick, seeing the marquis precede him, reached such a degree of
+excitement that for a given time his natural strength was raised to an
+irresistible power, and enabled him to accomplish wonders.
+
+One would have said that the son of Madame Bastien had communicated his
+feverish ardour to inanimate objects, and that the little craft trembled
+with impatience in its entire frame, while the oars seemed to receive
+not only motion, but life, with such precision and harmony did they obey
+Frederick's every movement.
+
+David himself, surprised at this incredible energy, continued to watch
+in front of the little boat, casting a radiant look on his pupil, whose
+heroic emulation he understood so well.
+
+Suddenly Frederick uttered an exclamation of profound joy.
+
+The little boat was only twenty-five steps from the farmhouse, while the
+yawl was still distant about a hundred steps.
+
+Suddenly, prolonged cries of distress, accompanied by a terrible crash,
+rose above the sound of the roaring waters.
+
+One of the gable ends of the farmhouse, undermined by the force of the
+current, fell down with a loud noise, and a part of the roof was giving
+way at the same time.
+
+Then the family grouped around the chimney had no other support for
+their feet than some fragments of carpentry, the slow oscillations of
+which predicted their speedy fall.
+
+In a few minutes, the gable end where the chimney was built, in its
+turn, sank into the abyss.
+
+The unfortunate sufferers presented a heartrending picture, worthy of
+the painter of the Deluge.
+
+The father standing half clothed, livid, his lips blue, his eye haggard,
+holding on to the tottering chimney with his left hand; two of the
+eldest children, locked in each other's arms, he bore upon his
+shoulders; around his right wrist was wrapped a rope, which he had been
+able to fasten to the opposite side of the chimney; by means of this
+rope, which girded the loins of his wife, he supported her, and
+prevented her fall into the water; for the poor woman, paralysed by
+cold, fatigue, and terror, had lost almost all consciousness; maternal
+instinct enabled her to press her nursing infant in her rigid arms to
+her bosom, and, in her desperation, the better to hold it, she had
+caught between her teeth the woollen skirt of the child's dress, to
+which she clung with the tenacity of a convulsion.
+
+The agony of these wretched beings had already lasted five hours.
+Overcome by terror, they seemed no longer to see or to hear.
+
+When David, arriving within the range of the voice, called out to them,
+"Try to seize the rope that I throw to you!" there was no response.
+Those whom he had come to save seemed absolutely petrified.
+
+Realising that the shipwrecked were often incapable of assisting in
+their own rescue, David acted promptly, for the gable end, as well as
+the remainder of the roof, threatened to sink in the abyss every moment.
+
+The little boat, pushed by the current, was managed in such a way as to
+touch the ruins of the building on the side opposite to that most likely
+to fall; then, while Frederick, hanging on with both hands to a
+projecting beam, held the craft on the side of the roof, David, one foot
+on the prow, and the other on the unsteady rafters, took hold of the
+mother with a strong arm, and placed her and the child in the bottom of
+the boat. Then the intelligence of the poor people, stupefied by cold
+and fright, seemed suddenly to awaken.
+
+Jean François, holding by one hand to the rope, handed his two children
+over into the arms of David and Frederick, and then descended himself
+into the little boat, and stretched himself out by the side of his wife
+and children under the warm covering,--all remaining as motionless as
+possible for fear of upsetting the craft in its passage to the dead
+waters. Scarcely had Frederick taken up his oars to row away from the
+ruins of the farmhouse, when the whole mass was engulfed.
+
+The reflux caused by the sinking of this mass of ruins was so violent,
+that a tremendous surge lifted the little boat a moment, then, when it
+sank, Frederick discovered, about ten steps from him in the middle of a
+wave of spouting foam, the yawl of the marquis, turned half-way, on its
+gunwale, and ready to capsize under the weight of an entanglement of
+carpentry and stones, for the canoe had touched the farmhouse ruins
+just about the time of the final wreck.
+
+Frederick, at the sight of the canoe's danger, suspended the motion of
+his oars an instant, and cried, as he turned around to David:
+
+"What is to be done to help them? Must I--"
+
+He did not finish.
+
+He left his oars, and leaped to the front of the little boat, and
+plunged into the water.
+
+To seize the oars so imprudently abandoned by Frederick and row with
+desperate energy to the spot where the young man had just disappeared
+was David's first movement; at the end of two minutes of inexpressible
+anguish, he saw Frederick rise above the gulf, swimming vigorously with
+one hand, and dragging a body after him.
+
+With a few strokes of the oar, David joined his pupil.
+
+The latter, seizing the prow of the little boat with the hand with which
+he had been swimming, sustained with the other hand, above the water,
+Raoul de Pont Brillant, pale, inanimate, and his face covered with
+blood.
+
+The marquis, struck on the head by a piece of the wreck which came near
+sinking the yawl, had been, by the same violent blow, thrown into the
+water, while the frightened oarsmen were occupied in relieving the craft
+from the timber which encumbered it. The canoe had hardly recovered her
+equilibrium, when the coxswain, seeing that his master had disappeared,
+looked around the craft in consternation, and at last discovered the
+marquis as he was held by the rescuing hand of Frederick.
+
+The six oarsmen soon gained the spot where the little boat lay, and took
+on board Raoul de Pont Brillant, who had fainted.
+
+Frederick, with David's assistance, came out of the water, and entered
+the little boat, when the oarsmen from the castle cried out to him in
+terror:
+
+"Take care! a float of wood!"
+
+[Illustration: "SEIZING THE PROW OF THE LITTLE BOAT."]
+
+In fact, the floating mass, coming rapidly behind the little boat, had
+not been seen by David, who was entirely occupied with Frederick.
+
+At this new danger the preceptor recovered his presence of mind; he
+threw his boat-hook on the canoe of the marquis, and by means of this
+support drew himself to her, and thus escaped the shock threatened by
+the float of wood.
+
+"Ah, monsieur," said the coxswain of the oarsmen, while the little boat
+was lying some seconds by the side of the canoe, "what is the name of
+the courageous young man who has just saved the marquis?"
+
+"The wound of the Marquis de Pont Brillant may be serious," said David,
+without answering the coxswain's question. "It is the most prudent thing
+to return to the castle without delay."
+
+Then, disengaging the boat-hook from the canoe, so as to give freedom of
+action to the little boat, David said to Frederick, who with radiant
+countenance was throwing back his long hair dripping with water:
+
+"To your oars, my child. God is with us. When we once reach the dead
+waters, we are safe."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+God, as David had said, was protecting the little boat. They reached the
+dead waters without further accident. There danger ceased almost
+entirely.
+
+The preceptor, finding his watch at the prow no longer necessary, took
+the oars from the weary hands of Frederick, who hastened to make the
+unfortunate sufferers drink a little wine.
+
+Ten minutes after, the little boat landed upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+At their disembarking David and Frederick found Madame Bastien.
+
+The young woman had assisted at a few of the episodes of this courageous
+salvage, by the aid of David's field-glass, leaving the scene, and
+taking another view by turns, as the danger seemed imminent or
+surmounted.
+
+Sometimes Marie found her strength unequal to the sight of the heroic
+struggle of her son, whom she could not encourage by word or gesture.
+
+Again, she would yield to the irresistible desire to know if Frederick
+had escaped the dangers which threatened him every moment.
+
+During this period of admiration, tears, transports, hope, and agonies
+of terror, Marie had more than one opportunity of judging of David's
+brave solicitude for Frederick, and it would be hardly possible to
+describe the joy of the young mother when she saw the little boat land,
+and welcomed not only David and her son, but the unfortunate sufferers
+whom they had so courageously rescued.
+
+But Marie's happiness became a sort of religious meditation when she
+learned from David that Raoul de Pont Brillant owed his life to
+Frederick.
+
+Thus had the unhappy child providentially expiated the crime of his
+attempted homicide.
+
+Thus disappeared from his life the only stain which his restoration had
+not been able utterly to efface.
+
+The farmer and his family, loaded with favours and the sympathetic care
+of Madame Bastien, were installed at the farm, for the miserable beings
+had nothing left in the world.
+
+Nor did that day or that night see the end of Madame Bastien's provident
+care.
+
+The highways, cut off by this sudden inundation against which it was
+impossible to provide, rendered the means of salvage very scarce, and
+within the radius of country called the Valley, the little boat
+belonging to Frederick was the sole resource.
+
+The lowland, almost entirely submerged, contained a great number of
+isolated farmhouses; some were completely destroyed and their inmates
+drowned, other houses resisted the impetuosity of the waters, but were
+so near as to be invaded by the rising of the overflow, and Frederick
+and David in the afternoon of the same day and in the next day
+accomplished the salvage of many families, and carried clothing and
+provisions to other victims of the disaster who had taken refuge in
+their garrets while the waters held possession of the lower story.
+
+In these numerous expeditions Frederick and David displayed
+indefatigable perseverance, which was the means of rescue for many, and
+won the admiration of those people whom the advancing waters had driven
+back on the upland, where the farm of Madame Bastien was situated.
+
+David's instructions did indeed bear good fruit.
+
+The valour and generosity of Frederick were excited to almost incredible
+deeds by his envy of the more exalted position of the Marquis de Pont
+Brillant.
+
+"I am only a half peasant; I am not rich and am not a marquis; I have no
+bark painted crimson and no oarsmen in livery, nor ancestors to look
+back to. I have only the encouragement of my mother, the support of my
+friend, my two arms, and my energy," said the young man to himself, "but
+by means of my devotion to the victims of this scourge, my obscure and
+plebeian name may become one day as well known in this country as the
+illustrious name of Pont Brillant. All my regret is that the wound of
+the marquis keeps him at the castle. I would have so much liked to rival
+him in zeal and courage before the face of everybody!"
+
+In fact the wound which Raoul de Pont Brillant had received was serious
+enough to confine him to the bed, to his own great regret, for at the
+first news of the inundation he had valiantly jumped into his yawl and
+ordered it to the spot where it would prove the most useful.
+
+But when the marquis became incapable of taking command and directing
+and inspiring his people his own inaction extended to the rest of the
+house, and the dowager of Pont Brillant, interested only in the
+suffering of her grandson, gave herself no further concern about the
+disaster, and roundly rebuked the cockswain of the bark for not having
+opposed the foolish temerity of Raoul.
+
+Madame Bastien understood the duties of a mother otherwise. With a firm
+eye she saw her son go to brave new perils; she sought distraction from
+her own fears only in the care and comfort which she administered with
+adorable zeal to those whom Providence threw in her way.
+
+Thus did she spend her long days of anxious concern for her son.
+
+The day after the overflow, when it had somewhat abated, the roads were
+rendered practicable, and a few bridges repaired by carpenters permitted
+the organisation of more efficient means of aid to the sufferers.
+
+As the waters retired, the unfortunate people whom the deluge had driven
+away from their homes returned broken in heart, and hastening in bitter
+impatience to see the extent of their disasters.
+
+So it happened that the evening of the third day the farm of Madame
+Bastien, which had served as a place of refuge for all, became as
+solitary as in the past, the family of Jean François being the only
+ones left in the house, because they had no other shelter.
+
+When the route of Pont Brillant became free again Doctor Dufour, whose
+anxiety had been extreme, hastened to the farm, to learn with joy and
+surprise that, notwithstanding the fatigues and excitements of these two
+terrible days, not one of the three friends had need of his attention.
+He learned also from Marie of Frederick's wonderful cure, and after two
+hours of delightful confidences he left the happy home, whose inmates
+were about to take that repose so nobly bought.
+
+Raoul de Pont Brillant soon learned that the young man who had snatched
+him from an almost certain death was Frederick Bastien.
+
+The dowager had not renounced her project of giving this charming little
+commoner, so near her castle, and whose husband was always absent, to
+her grandson as a mistress; so, finding, as she said to Zerbinette, an
+excellent opportunity for undertaking the affair, she went again to see
+Madame Bastien, at whose house she had twice before presented herself in
+vain, taking her maid with her in her elegant carriage.
+
+This time it was not necessary for Marguerite to lie in order to declare
+to the dowager that Madame Bastien was not at home. In fact, for several
+days the young woman was continually absent from her home, occupied in
+lavishing on all sides her blessings of material comfort and spiritual
+consolation.
+
+The marquise, provoked at the futility of this visit, said to her
+faithful Zerbinette, as she entered:
+
+"This is bad luck; by my faith one would say this little fool is trying
+not to meet me. These obstacles make me impatient, and I must finish my
+undertaking without considering Raoul, whether he knows how to go about
+it. It is an excellent beginning to be fished up by this blockhead.
+Indeed, in the name of gratitude to her son, Raoul has the right not to
+stir from his mother's house until he has everything in hand. It is a
+famous opportunity. I must give this dear boy a lesson."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the 31st of December, fifteen days after the overflow. The damage
+had been incalculable, especially for a multitude of unfortunate
+sufferers, who, returning to their ruined hovels, covered with mud and
+slime, found only the walls, saturated with water and barely protected
+by a broken roof.
+
+The ruin was general.
+
+One had lost all his little store of grain gathered from the gleaning,
+or bought by great privation for the winter's nourishment.
+
+Another had seen the waters carry away his pig or his cow, treasures of
+the proletary of the fields; again, there were those who had lost the
+only bed upon which the family slept; in fact, almost all had to deplore
+the sand-banks strewn over the little field from which they lived and
+paid the rent of the farm.
+
+Besides, the vines were torn up by the roots, and the wine, carefully
+preserved to pay the hire, was carried off with the casks that contained
+it; in short, all those labourers, who, from the rising to the setting
+sun, worked with the indefatigable energy of necessity, and could hardly
+make both ends meet, felt bitterly that this scourge of forty-eight
+hours would last for many years upon their lives, and render their
+existence still more miserable.
+
+The Marquis of Pont Brillant and his grandmother acted more than
+royally; they sent twenty thousand francs to the mayor, and twenty
+thousand to the parson, the day after the inundation.
+
+Marie, as we have said, never possessed any other money than the small
+monthly allowance given to her by M. Bastien, for the maintenance of
+herself and her son; a sum from which she had little to spare for alms.
+She wrote then immediately to her husband, who was detained by business
+in Berri, and besought him to send her at once two or three thousand
+francs, that she might come to the assistance of the sufferers.
+
+M. Bastien replied by asking his wife if she was making a jest of him,
+because he had, as he said, ten acres of the best land in the valley
+ruined by the sand; so far from coming to the assistance of others, he
+hoped to be included among those sufferers who would be the most largely
+indemnified, and as soon as his business was ended he was coming to the
+farm to draw up a statement of his losses so as to estimate the amount
+of his claim upon the government.
+
+Madame Bastien, more distressed than surprised at her husband's reply,
+had recourse to other expedients.
+
+She possessed a few jewels, inherited from her mother; there were at the
+farm about fifteen plates and a few other pieces of silver; the young
+woman sent Marguerite to sell this silver and jewels at Pont Brillant;
+the whole brought about two thousand francs; David asked Marie's
+permission to double the amount, and this money, employed with rare
+intelligence, proved the salvation of a large number of families.
+
+Going through the country with her son, while David was busy making
+purchases, Marie saw for herself and doubled the value of her benefits
+by her kind words, a sack of grain for some, a few pieces of furniture
+for others, and for others still, linen and clothing. All was
+distributed by the young woman with as much discretion as discernment,
+and all was suitable to the needs of each.
+
+Jacques Bastien owned a large and beautiful forest of fir-trees. The
+young woman, although she expected nothing less than the fury of her
+husband at the dreadful outrage, resolved to diminish by one thousand
+the number of these splendid firs, and many houses without roofs were at
+least solidly covered for the winter with beams and rafters of this
+rustic material, on which was extended a thick layer of wild broom,
+woven together with long and supple twigs of willow.
+
+It was David, who had seen in his travels through the Alps shelters thus
+constructed so as to resist the winds and snows of the mountains, who
+gave the peasants these ideas for the construction of roofs; directing
+and sharing their work, he was able to apply and utilise a number of
+facts acquired in his extensive peregrinations.
+
+As the overflow had swept away many mills and the greater part of the
+ovens belonging to the isolated houses,--these ovens being built outside
+and projecting from the gable end,--the peasants were compelled to buy
+bread in the town, at some distance from the houses scattered through
+the valley. They bought it dearly, since almost a whole day was required
+to go and return, and time was precious after such a disaster. David had
+seen the Egyptian nomads crushing corn, after they had moistened it,
+between two stones, and preparing cakes of it, which they cooked in the
+hot ashes. He taught this process to the families whose ovens had been
+destroyed, and they had at least, during the first days, sufficient and
+comfortable food.
+
+But, in everything, David was admirably seconded by Frederick, and took
+pains to efface himself so as to attract gratitude toward his pupil,
+that he might be more and more encouraged in the noble way in which he
+was walking.
+
+And besides, even when David had neglected this delicate solicitude for
+his pupil, Frederick displayed such courage, such perseverance, and
+showed himself so affectionate and so compassionate toward those whose
+sufferings he and his mother were relieving by every means in their
+power, that his name was in every mouth and his memory in every heart.
+
+During the fortnight which followed the overflow, every day was employed
+by Madame Bastien, her son, and David in benevolent work.
+
+When night came they returned home much fatigued, sometimes wet and
+covered with snow, and each made a toilet whose cleanliness was its only
+luxury.
+
+Marie Bastien then would return to the library, her magnificent hair
+beautifully arranged, and according to her custom almost always dressed
+in a gown of coarse, shaded blue cloth, marvellously fitting her
+nymph-like figure. The dazzling whiteness of two broad cuffs, and a
+collar fastened by a little cravat of cherry or orange coloured silk,
+relieved the dark shade of this gown, which sometimes permitted one to
+see a beautiful foot, always freshly clad in Scotch thread stockings,
+white as snow, over which were crossed the silk buskins of a little shoe
+made of reddish brown leather.
+
+This active life passed continually in the open air, the cheerfulness of
+spirit, the gaiety of heart, the habitual expression of charitable
+sentiments, the serenity of soul, had not only effaced from the lovely
+features of Marie Bastien the last trace of past suffering, but, like
+certain flowers, which, after having languished somewhat, often revive
+to greater freshness, the beauty of Marie became dazzling, and David
+frequently forgot himself as he contemplated it in silent adoration.
+
+The same causes produced the same results in Frederick; he was more
+charming than ever, in youth, vigour, and grace.
+
+Marie, her son, and David were accustomed to assemble in the library
+after these long days of active and courageous devotion, in order to
+talk over the events of the morning while waiting for dinner, to which
+they cheerfully did honour, without reflecting that the modest silver
+had been replaced by a brilliant imitation. After the repast, they went
+to visit a workroom, where Marie joined several women who were employed
+to prepare linen and clothing. This economy enabled her to double her
+gifts. This last duty accomplished, they returned to spend the long
+winter evenings in the library around a glowing fireside, while the
+bitter north wind whistled out of doors.
+
+The days thus spent passed delightfully to these three persons united by
+sacred indissoluble ties.
+
+Sometimes they discussed plans for Frederick's future, for after these
+fifteen days of arduous labour, he was about to begin new studies under
+David's direction.
+
+The preceptor had travelled over two hemispheres, and often spoke of his
+voyages, and replied to the untiring questioning of his associates, with
+interesting accounts of cities, armies, and costumes which he sometimes
+portrayed with an accurate pencil.
+
+An appropriate reading or the execution of some piece of music
+terminated the evening, for David was an excellent musician, and
+frequently entertained his hearers with the national airs of different
+countries, and romances charming in their freshness and simplicity.
+
+In these familiar conversations, mingled with intimate confidences,
+David learned to appreciate more and more the exquisite character and
+loftiness of Madame Bastien's soul. Freed from all preoccupation, she
+had regained her liberty of mind, while the preceptor observed with
+renewed pleasure the influence he had exercised over Frederick's ideas,
+and prepared new plans of study which he cheerfully submitted to the
+mother and son.
+
+Indeed, every day increased David's affection for his pupil, and he
+bestowed upon him all the treasure of tenderness which had filled his
+heart since the lamented death of his young brother. In thus loving
+passionately the son of Madame Bastien, David deceived himself by these
+fraternal memories, just as one is often deceived by vain regrets in
+falling in love with a resemblance.
+
+Not infrequently midnight sounded, and the happy trio looked at each
+other in surprise, deploring the rapid flight of time, as they
+exclaimed:
+
+"Already!"
+
+And they would always say to each other in parting:
+
+"To-morrow!"
+
+Marie would retire to her own room, but Frederick would conduct David to
+his chamber, and there, how many times, standing within the embrasure of
+the door, the preceptor and pupil forgot themselves in the charm of a
+long friendly chat; one listening with faith, responding with eagerness,
+questioning with the ardour of his age, the other speaking with the
+tender solicitude of the mature man, who smiles compassionately on
+youth, impatient to try the mysterious path of destiny.
+
+How many times old Marguerite was obliged to ascend to the floor upon
+which David's chamber was situated, and say to Frederick:
+
+"Indeed, monsieur, it is midnight, it is one o'clock in the morning, and
+you know very well that madame never goes to bed before you do."
+
+And Frederick would press David's hand and descend to his mother's
+chamber.
+
+There, David would still be the subject of long conversations between
+the young woman and her son.
+
+"Mother," Frederick would say, "how interesting was his account of his
+travels in Asia Minor."
+
+"Oh, yes, nothing could be more so," Marie would answer. "And besides,
+Frederick, what curious things M. David has taught us about the
+vibrations of sound, and all that, too, by a few chords on this broken
+old piano."
+
+"Mother, what a charming account he gave us, in comparing the properties
+of sound and light."
+
+"And that delightful strain from Mozart that he played. Do you remember
+the choir of spirits in the 'Enchanted Flute?' It was so aerial, so
+light. What a pleasure for poor savages like us, who have never known
+anything of Mozart; it is like discovering a treasure of harmony."
+
+"And how touching his anecdote about the old age of Haydn. And what he
+told us of the association of the Moravian brethren in America. How
+much less misery, how much benefit to poor people if those ideas could
+be applied in our country!"
+
+"And, mother, did you notice that his eyes filled with tears when he
+spoke of the happiness which might be the portion of so many people who
+are now in want?"
+
+"Ah, my poor child, his is the noblest heart in the world."
+
+"Yes, mother, and how we ought to cherish it! Oh, we must love him so
+much, you see; yes, so very much that it will be impossible for him to
+leave us. He has no family; his best friend, Doctor Dufour, is our
+neighbour. Where could M. David find a better home than with us?"
+
+"Leave us!" exclaimed Marie, "leave us! why, it is he who gives us our
+strength, our faith, our confidence in the future. Is it possible he can
+abandon us now?"
+
+Then old Marguerite was obliged to interpose again.
+
+"For the love of God, madame, do go to bed; why, it is two o'clock in
+the morning," said the old servant. "You rose at six o'clock, and so did
+M. Frederick, and then so must work all day long! Besides, it is not
+good sense to sit up so late!"
+
+"Marguerite is right to scold us, my child," said Marie, smiling, and
+kissing her son on the forehead, "we are foolish to go to bed so late."
+
+And the next day, again Marguerite's recriminations cut short the
+conversations of the mother and son.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two or three times Marie went to bed in a sweetly pensive mood.
+
+One evening, while Frederick was reading, his friend, thoughtful and
+sedate, his elbows on the table, was leaning over with his forehead on
+his hand; the light of the lamp, concentrated by the shade, shone
+brightly upon the noble and expressive face of David.
+
+Marie, a moment distracted from the reading, directed her gaze to the
+guardian of her son, and looked at him a long time. By degrees, the
+young woman felt her eyes grow moist, her beautiful bosom palpitate
+suddenly, while a delicate blush mounted her snowy brow.
+
+Just at this moment, David accidentally raised his eyes and met Marie's
+glance.
+
+The young woman immediately cast her eyes down, and blushed scarlet.
+
+Another time David was at the piano, accompanying Frederick and Marie,
+who were singing a duet; the young woman turned the page, just as David
+had the same intuition, and their hands met.
+
+At this electric contact, she trembled, her blood rushed toward her
+heart, and a cloud passed before her eyes.
+
+Notwithstanding these suggestive indications, the young mother slept
+that evening, pensive and dreamy, but full of calm and chaste serenity.
+
+As always before, she kissed her son on the forehead, without blushing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Thus passed the last fortnight of December.
+
+Upon the eve of the new year, David, Marie, and her son were preparing
+to go out, in order to carry a few last remembrances to their
+dependents, when Marguerite handed her mistress a letter which the
+express had just brought.
+
+At the sight of the handwriting, Marie could not hide her surprise and
+fear.
+
+This letter was from M. Bastien, who wrote as follows:
+
+     "MADAME, MY WIFE (with whom I am not at all satisfied):--My
+     business in Berri has ended sooner than I anticipated. I am now at
+     Pont Brillant, with my boon companion, Bridou, occupied in
+     verifying accounts. We will leave soon for the farm, where Bridou
+     will stay a few days with me, in order to assist me in estimating
+     the indemnity due me, out of the sum allotted to the sufferers from
+     the overflow, because we must get some good out of so much evil.
+
+     "We will arrive in time for dinner.
+
+     "Take care to have a leg of mutton with an abundance of clove of
+     garlic in the best style, and some fine cabbage soup, as I am fond
+     of it, with plenty of hot salted pork, and plenty of Blois sausage;
+     attend especially to that, if you please.
+
+     "_Nota bene._ I shall arrive in a very bad humour, and very much
+     disposed to box my son's ears, in case his fits of melancholy and
+     coxcomb airs are not at an end.
+
+    "Your husband, who has no desire to laugh,
+
+    "JACQUES BASTIEN.
+
+     "P. S. Bridou is like me; he likes cheese that can walk alone. Tell
+     Marguerite to provide it, and do you attend to it."
+
+Madame Bastien had not recovered from the surprise and regret produced
+by the unexpected announcement of M. Bastien's return, when she was
+drawn from her unhappy reflections by a tumultuous and constantly
+increasing excitement that she heard outside. One would have declared
+that an assemblage had surrounded the house. Suddenly Marguerite
+entered, running, her eyes sparkling with joy, as she cried:
+
+"Ah, madame! come,--come and see!"
+
+Marie, more and more astonished, automatically followed the servant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+The weather was clear, the winter sun radiant. Marie Bastien, as she
+went out on the rustic porch, built above the front door of the house,
+saw about one hundred persons, men, women, and children, almost all
+clothed in coarse, but new and warm garments, filing in order, and
+ranging themselves behind the little garden.
+
+This procession was ended by a cart ornamented with branches of fir, on
+which was placed what was called by the country people, a ferry-boat--a
+little flat boat, resembling the one Frederick and David so bravely used
+during the overflow.
+
+Behind the cart, which stopped at the garden gate, came an empty open
+carriage, drawn by four horses, and mounted by two postilions in the
+livery of Pont Brillant; two footmen were seated behind.
+
+At the head of the procession marched Jean François, the farmer, leading
+two of his little children by the hand; his wife held the smallest child
+in her arms.
+
+At the sight of Madame Bastien, the farmer approached.
+
+"Good day, Jean François," said the young woman to him, affectionately.
+"What do these good people who accompany you want?"
+
+"We wish to speak to M. Frederick, madame."
+
+Marie turned to Marguerite, who, with a triumphant air, was standing
+behind her mistress, and said to her:
+
+"Run and tell my son, Marguerite."
+
+"It will not take long, madame; he is in the library with M. David."
+
+While the servant went in quest of Frederick, Marie, who saw then for
+the first time the handsomely equipped carriage standing before the
+garden gate, wondered what could be its purpose.
+
+Frederick hastened, not expecting the spectacle which awaited him.
+
+"What do you want, mother?" said he, quickly.
+
+Then, seeing the crowd which had gathered in the little garden, he
+stopped suddenly, with an interrogative look at his mother.
+
+"My child--"
+
+But the young woman, whose heart was beating with joy, could say no
+more; overcome by emotion, she had just discovered that the assemblage
+was composed entirely of those unfortunate people whom she and her son
+and David had helped in the time of the overflow.
+
+Then Marie said:
+
+"My child, it is Jean François who wishes to speak to you,--there he
+is!"
+
+And the happy mother withdrew behind her son, exchanging a glance of
+inexpressible delight with David, who had followed his pupil, and stood
+half hidden under the porch.
+
+Frederick, whose astonishment continued to increase, made a step toward
+Jean François, who said to the young man, in a voice full of tears:
+
+"M. Frederick, it is we poor valley people, who have come to thank you
+with a free heart, as well as your mother and your friend, M. David, who
+have been so kind. As I owe you the most," continued the farmer, with a
+voice more and more broken by tears, and pointing to his wife and
+children with an expressive gesture, "as I owe you the most, M.
+Frederick, the others have told me--and--I--"
+
+The poor man could say no more. Sobs stifled his voice.
+
+Other sobs of tenderness from the excited crowd responded to the tears
+of Jean François, and broke the almost religious silence which reigned
+for several minutes.
+
+Frederick's heart was melted to tears of joy. He threw himself upon his
+mother's neck, as if he wished to turn toward her these testimonials of
+gratitude by which he was so profoundly touched.
+
+At a sign from Jean François, who had dried his eyes and tried to regain
+his self-possession, several men of the assemblage approached the cart,
+and, taking the ferry-boat, brought it in their arms and laid it before
+Frederick.
+
+It was a simple and rustic little boat with two oars of unpolished wood,
+and on the inner railing were written in rude and uneven letters, cut
+into the framework, the words: "The poor people of the valley to M.
+Frederick Bastien."
+
+Then followed the date of the overflow.
+
+Jean François, having subdued his emotion, said, as he showed the boat
+to the son of Madame Bastien:
+
+"M. Frederick, we united with each other in making this little boat,
+which almost looks like the one which served you in saving us and our
+effects. Excuse the liberty, M. Frederick, but it is with good intention
+and warm friendship that we bring this little boat to you. When you use
+it, you will think of the poor people of the valley, and upon those who
+will always love you, M. Frederick; they will teach your name to their
+little children, who, when they are grown, will some day teach it to
+theirs, because that name, you see, M. Frederick, is now the name of the
+good saint of the country."
+
+Frederick allowed his tears to flow, as a silent and eloquent response.
+David then, leaning over his pupil's ear, whispered to him:
+
+"My child, is not this rude procession worth all the splendour of the
+brilliant hunting procession of St. Hubert?"
+
+At the moment Frederick turned toward David to press his hand, he saw a
+movement in the crowd, which, suddenly separating itself with a murmur
+of surprise and curiosity, gave passage to Raoul de Pont Brillant.
+
+The marquis advanced a little in front of Jean François; then, with
+perfect ease and grace, he said to Frederick:
+
+"I have come, monsieur, to thank you for saving my life, because this is
+my first day out, and it was my duty to dedicate it to you. I met these
+good people on the way, and after learning from one of them the purpose
+of their assemblage I joined them, since, like these good people, I am
+of the valley, and like several of them, I owe my life to you."
+
+After these words, uttered with an accent perhaps more polished than
+emotional, the Marquis de Pont Brillant, with exquisite tact, again
+mingled with the multitude.
+
+"Ah, well, my child," whispered David to Frederick, "is it not the
+Marquis de Pont Brillant now who ought to envy you?"
+
+Frederick pressed David's hand, but was possessed by the thought: "He
+whom I basely desired to murder is there, ignorant of my dastardly
+attempt, and he has come to thank me for saving his life."
+
+Then the son of Madame Bastien, addressing the people of the valley,
+said to them, in an impassioned voice, as he mingled with them, and
+cordially pressed their hands:
+
+"My friends, what I have done was done at the suggestion of my mother,
+and with the aid of my friend, M. David. It is, then, in their name, as
+well as my own, that I thank you from the bottom of my heart for these
+evidences of affection. As to this little boat," added the young man,
+turning toward the boat which had been deposited in the middle of the
+garden, and contemplating it with as much sadness as joy, "it shall be
+consecrated to the pleasure of my mother, and this touching inscription
+will remind us of the inhabitants of the valley, whom we love as much as
+they love us."
+
+Then Frederick, addressing in turn all those who surrounded him, asked
+one if his fields were in a tillable condition, another if he hoped to
+preserve a great part of his vineyard, another still if the slime
+deposited on his land by the Loire had not somewhat compensated for the
+disaster from which he had suffered. To all Frederick said some word
+which proved that he had their interest and their misfortunes at heart.
+
+Marie, on her part, speaking to the women and mothers and children,
+found a word of affection and solicitude for all, and proved that like
+her son she had a perfect acquaintance with the sorrows and needs of
+each one.
+
+Frederick hoped to join the Marquis de Pont Brillant; he earnestly
+longed to press the hand of the man whom he had so long pursued with
+bitter hatred; it seemed to him that this frank expression ought to
+efface from his mind the last memory of the dreadful deed he had
+contemplated; but he could not find the marquis, whose carriage had also
+disappeared.
+
+After the departure of the valley people, Frederick, entering the house
+with his mother and David, found Marguerite, who proudly handed him a
+letter.
+
+"What is this letter, Marguerite?" asked the young man.
+
+"Read, M. Frederick."
+
+"You permit me, mother? and you also, my friend?"
+
+Marie and David made a sign in the affirmative.
+
+Frederick immediately cast his eyes upon the signature and said:
+
+"It is from the Marquis de Pont Brillant."
+
+"The very same, M. Frederick," interposed Marguerite. "Before departing
+in his carriage he came through the grove and asked to write you a
+word."
+
+"Come in the library, my child," said Marie to her son.
+
+David, Frederick, and his mother being alone, the young man said,
+innocently:
+
+"I am going to read it aloud, mother."
+
+"As you please, my child."
+
+"Ah, but now I think it is doubtless a letter of thanks," said
+Frederick, smiling, "and should not be read aloud."
+
+"You are right; you would suppress three-fourths of it," said Marie,
+smiling in her turn. "Give the letter to M. David, he will read it
+better than you."
+
+"Come," answered Frederick, gaily, "my modesty serves me ill. If it is
+praise, it will still seem very sweet to me."
+
+"That will be a punishment for your humility," said David, laughing, and
+he read what follows:
+
+     "'As I had the honour of telling you, monsieur, I left my house in
+     the hope of expressing my gratitude to you. I met the valley
+     people, who were on their way to make an ovation for you,--you,
+     monsieur, whose name has rightfully become so popular in our
+     country since the inundation. I thought I ought to join these
+     people and wait the opportunity to thank you personally.
+
+     "'I should have accomplished this duty to-day, monsieur, without
+     this interesting circumstance.
+
+     "'As I heard you thank the good people of the valley in a voice so
+     full of emotion, it seemed to me I recognised the voice of a person
+     whom I met at night in the depth of the forest of Pont Brillant
+     about two months ago, for, if I remember correctly, this meeting
+     took place in the first week of November.'"
+
+"Frederick, what does that mean?" asked Madame Bastien, interrupting
+David.
+
+"Presently, mother, I will tell you all. Please go on, my friend."
+
+David continued:
+
+     "'It is possible, monsieur, and I earnestly hope it, that this
+     passage in my letter relating to this meeting may appear
+     incomprehensible to you; in that case please attach no importance
+     to it, and attribute it to a mistake caused by a resemblance of
+     voice and accent which is very unusual.
+
+     "'If, on the contrary, monsieur, you comprehend me; if you are, in
+     a word, the person whom I met at night in a very dark spot where it
+     was impossible to distinguish your features, you will condescend,
+     no doubt, monsieur, to explain to me the contradiction (apparent, I
+     hope) which exists between your conduct at the time of our meeting
+     in the forest and at the time of the inundation.
+
+     "'I await, then, monsieur, with your permission, the elucidation of
+     this mystery, that I may know with what sentiments I can henceforth
+     have the honour of subscribing myself. Your very humble and
+     obedient servant,
+
+    "'R., MARQUIS DE PONT BRILLANT.'"
+
+The reading of this letter, written with assurance and aggressive pride,
+was scarcely ended when the son of Madame Bastien ran to a table and
+wrote a few lines spontaneously, folded the paper, and returned to his
+mother.
+
+"I am going, mother," said he, "to relate to you in a few words the
+adventure in the forest; afterward you and my friend will judge if my
+reply to the Marquis de Pont Brillant is proper."
+
+And Frederick, without mentioning the conversation between the dowager
+and Zerbinette which he had surprised (for that would have outraged his
+mother), told the young woman and David all that happened on the fatal
+day to which the marquis alluded; how the marquis, having refused to
+fight in the darkness with an unknown person, and wishing to escape from
+the persistence of Frederick, had overthrown him with the breast of his
+horse; how Frederick, in a delirium of rage, had lain in ambuscade near
+a spot where the marquis would pass, in order to kill him.
+
+This recital terminated, without justifying Frederick, but at least
+explaining to his mother and David by what sequence of sentiments and
+deeds he had been led to conceive the idea of a dastardly ambush unknown
+to the Marquis of Pont Brillant, Frederick said to his mother:
+
+"Now, here is my answer to the letter of the Marquis de Pont Brillant."
+
+Marie Bastien read the following:
+
+     "MONSIEUR:--I provoked you without cause; I am ashamed of it. I
+     saved your life; I am glad of it. There is the whole mystery.
+
+    "Your very humble servant,
+
+    "FREDERICK BASTIEN."
+
+
+"Well, my child," said David, earnestly, "you nobly confess a wicked
+intention that you have paid for at the peril of your life."
+
+"When I think of this rehabilitation and of all that has just occurred,"
+said Marie, with profound emotion, "when I realise that it is all your
+work, M. David, and that fifteen days ago my son was killing
+himself--his heart consumed with hatred--"
+
+"And yet you do not know all, mother," interrupted Frederick, "no, you
+do not know all that I owe to this good genius who has come to change
+our grief to joy."
+
+"What do you mean, my child?"
+
+"Frederick!" added David, with a tone of reproach, suspecting the
+intention of Madame Bastien's son.
+
+"My friend, to-day is the day of confessions, and, besides, I see my
+mother so happy that--"
+
+Then, interrupting himself, he asked:
+
+"You are happy, are you not, mother?"
+
+Marie replied by embracing her son with ecstasy.
+
+"So you see, my friend, my mother is so happy that a danger past cannot
+give her cause for sorrow, especially when she will have one reason more
+for loving you and blessing you."
+
+"Frederick, once again I beseech you--"
+
+"My friend, the only reason which has made me conceal this secret from
+my mother was the fear of distressing her."
+
+"I beg you, dear child, explain yourself," cried Marie.
+
+"Ah, well, mother, those farewells at night, you remember?--it was not a
+dream."
+
+"Why, did you really come to me that dreadful night?"
+
+"Yes, to bid you farewell."
+
+"My God! and where were you going?"
+
+"I was going to kill myself."
+
+Marie uttered a shriek of fright, and turned pale.
+
+"Frederick," said David, "you see what imprudence--"
+
+"No, no, M. David," interrupted the young woman, trying to smile. "It is
+I who am absurdly weak. Have I not my son here in my arms, on my heart?"
+
+As she said these words, Marie pressed her son in her arms, as they sat
+together on the sofa; then kissing him on the forehead, she added, in a
+trembling voice:
+
+"Oh, I have you in my arms. Now I have no more fear, I can hear all."
+
+"Well, mother, devoured by envy, and more than that, pursued by remorse,
+which always awakened at the sound of your voice, I wanted to kill
+myself. I went out with M. David, I escaped from him. He succeeded in
+finding my tracks. I had run to the Loire, and when he arrived--"
+
+"Ah! unhappy child!" cried Marie, "but for him you would have drowned!"
+
+"Yes, and when I was about to drown I called you, mother, as one calls
+for help. He heard my cries, and threw himself in the Loire, and--"
+
+Frederick was interrupted by Marguerite.
+
+The old servant this time did not present herself smiling and
+triumphant, but timid and alarmed, as she whispered to her mistress, as
+if she were announcing some fatal news:
+
+"Madame, madame, monsieur has come!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+These words of Marguerite, "Monsieur has come!" announcing the arrival
+of Jacques Bastien at the very moment in which Marie realised that she
+owed to David not only the moral restoration but the life of her son, so
+appalled the young woman that she sat mute and motionless, as if struck
+by an unexpected blow; for the incidents of the morning had banished
+from her mind every thought of her husband's letter. Frederick, on his
+part, felt a sad surprise. Thanks to his mother's reticence he was
+ignorant of much of his father's unkindness and injustice, but certain
+domestic scenes in which the natural brutality of Jacques Bastien's
+character had been manifested, and the unwise severity with which he
+exercised his paternal authority in his rare visits to the farm, united
+in rendering the relations of father and son very strained.
+
+David also saw the arrival of M. Bastien with profound apprehension;
+although prepared to make all possible concessions to this man, even to
+the point of utter self-effacement, it pained him to think that the
+continuity of his relations with Frederick and his mother depended
+absolutely on the caprice of Jacques Bastien.
+
+Marguerite was so little in advance of her master that David, Marie, and
+her son were still under the effects of their astonishment and painful
+reflections, when Jacques Bastien entered the library, accompanied by
+his companion, Bridou, the bailiff of Pont Brillant.
+
+Jacques Bastien, as we have said, was an obese Hercules; his large head,
+covered with a forest of reddish blond curls, was joined close to his
+broad shoulders by the neck of a bull; his face was large, florid, and
+almost beardless, as is frequently the case in athletic physiques; his
+nose big, his lips of the kind called blubber, and his eye at the same
+time shrewd, wicked, and deceitful. The blue blouse, which, according to
+his custom, he wore over his riding-coat, distinctly delineated the
+prominence of his Falstaff-like stomach; he wore a little cap of fox
+hair, with ear-protectors, trousers of cheap velvet, and iron-tipped
+boots that had not been cleaned for several days; in one of his short,
+yet enormous hands, broader than they were long, he carried a stick of
+holly-wood, fastened to his wrist by a greasy leather string; and if the
+truth must be told, this man, a sort of mastodon, at ten paces distant,
+smelled like a goat.
+
+His boon companion, Bridou, also clad in a blouse over his old black
+coat, and wearing a round hat, was a small man, with spectacles, lank,
+covered with freckles, with a cunning, sly expression, pinched mouth,
+and high cheek-bones: one might have taken him for a ferret wearing
+eyeglasses.
+
+At the sight of Jacques Bastien, David shuddered with pain and
+apprehension, as he thought that Marie's life was for ever linked to the
+life of this man, who even lacked the generosity of remaining absent
+from the unhappy woman.
+
+Jacques Bastien and Bridou entered the library without salutation; the
+first words that the master of the domicile, with an angry frown and
+rude voice, addressed to his wife, who rose to receive him, were these:
+
+"Who gave the order to fell my fir-trees?"
+
+"What fir-trees, monsieur?" asked Marie, without knowing what she said,
+so much was she upset by her husband's arrival.
+
+"How, what fir-trees?" replied Jacques Bastien. "What but my fir-trees
+on the road? Do I speak enigmas? In passing along the road I have just
+seen that more than a thousand of the finest trees on the border of the
+plantation have been cut down! I ask you who has allowed them to be sold
+without my order?"
+
+"They have not been sold, monsieur," replied Marie, regaining her
+self-possession.
+
+"If they have not been sold, why were they cut down? Who ordered them
+cut down?"
+
+"I did, monsieur."
+
+"You?"
+
+And Jacques Bastien, overwhelmed with astonishment, was silent a moment;
+then he said:
+
+"Ah! so it was you, madame! A new performance, forsooth! You are drawing
+it rather strong. What do you say about it, Bridou?"
+
+"Bless me, Jacques, you had better look into it."
+
+"That is just what I am going to do; and what use did you have for the
+money, madame, that you had more than a thousand of my finest firs cut
+down, if you please?"
+
+"Monsieur, it would be better, I think, to talk of business when we are
+alone. You must see that my son's preceptor, M. David, is present."
+
+And Madame Bastien indicated by her glance David, who was sitting apart
+from the company.
+
+Jacques Bastien turned around abruptly, and after having contemptuously
+measured David from head to foot, said to him, rudely:
+
+"Monsieur, I wish to speak with my wife."
+
+David bowed and went out, and Frederick followed him, outraged at the
+treatment received by his friend.
+
+"Come, madame," continued Jacques Bastien, "you see your Latin spitter
+has departed; are you going to answer me at last?"
+
+"When we are alone, monsieur."
+
+"If it is I who restrain you," said Bridou, walking toward the door, "I
+am going to march out."
+
+"Come now, Bridou, do you make a jest of everybody? Please stay where
+you are," cried Jacques.
+
+Then, turning to Marie, he said:
+
+"My companion knows my business as well as I do; now, madame, we are
+talking of business, for a thousand firs on the edge of my farm is a
+matter of business, and a big one, too; so Bridou will remain."
+
+"As you please, monsieur; then I will tell you before M. Bridou that I
+thought it my duty to have your fir-trees cut down, in order to give
+them to the unfortunate valley people, that they might rebuild their
+dwellings half destroyed by the overflow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+From Jacques Bastien's point of view, the thing was so outrageous that
+it was incomprehensible to him, as he artlessly said to the bailiff,
+"Bridou, do you understand it?"
+
+"Why, bless me, yes," replied Bridou, with an air of assumed good
+nature, "madame, your wife, has made a present of your fir-trees to the
+sufferers from the overflow; that is true, is it not, madame?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+Bastien, almost choked with anger and astonishment, at first could do
+nothing but stammer as he looked furiously at his wife:
+
+"You--have--dared--what! You--"
+
+Then stamping his foot with rage, he made a step toward his wife,
+shaking his great fists with such a threatening air, that the bailiff
+jumped before him, and cried: "Come, Jacques, what in the devil are you
+doing? You will not die of it, old fellow; it is only a present of about
+two thousand francs that your wife has given to the sufferers."
+
+"And you think I shall let it go like that?" replied Jacques, trying to
+restrain himself. "You must be a fool if you thought you could hide it.
+This destruction of my firs was plain enough before my eyes as I passed.
+You forgot that, eh?"
+
+"If you had been here, monsieur," answered Marie, softly, for fear of
+irritating Bastien still more, "like me, you would have been a witness
+of this terrible disaster and the evils it caused, and you would have
+done the same, I do not doubt."
+
+"I, by thunder, when I myself have a part of my land ruined with sand."
+
+"But, monsieur, there is enough land and wood left you, while these poor
+people whom we helped were without bread and shelter."
+
+"Ah, indeed; then it is my business to give bread and shelter to those
+who have not got it!" cried Bastien, exasperated; "upon my word of
+honour, it is making a tool of me. Do you hear her, Bridou?"
+
+"You know very well, old fellow, that ladies understand nothing about
+business, and they had better not meddle with it at all, ha, ha, ha!
+especially in cutting wood," replied the bailiff with a mellifluous
+giggle.
+
+"But did I tell her to meddle with it?" replied Jacques Bastien, whose
+fury continued to rise; "could I suppose she would ever have the
+audacity to--But no, no, there is something else at the bottom of it,
+she must have her head turned. Ah, by thunder! I came just in time. By
+this sample, it appears that wonderful things have been going on here in
+my absence. Come, come, I shall have trouble enough; fortunately I am
+equal to it, and I have a solid fist."
+
+Marie, looking up at Jacques with an expression of supplicating
+sweetness, said to him:
+
+"I cannot regret what I have done, monsieur, only I do regret that an
+act which seems to me to merit your approval, should cause you such keen
+disappointment and annoyance. Besides," added the young woman, trying to
+smile, "I am certain that you will forget this trouble when you learn
+how courageously Frederick has behaved at the time of the overflow. At
+the risk of his life, he saved Jean François and his wife and children
+from certain death. Two other families of the valley were also--"
+
+"Eh, by God's thunder! it is precisely because he paid with his own
+person that you did not need to make yourself so generous at my expense,
+and pay out of my purse," cried the booby, interrupting his wife.
+
+"How," replied Marie, confounded by this reproach, "did you know that
+Frederick--"
+
+"Had gone, like so many others, to the aid of the inundated families?
+Zounds! I was bored with that talk in Pont Brillant. That is a fine
+affair indeed. Who forced him to do it? If he did it, it was because it
+suited him to do it. Oh, well, so much the better for him. Besides, the
+newspapers are full of such tricks. And yet, if the name of my son had
+at least been put in the journal betimes, that would have pleased me."
+
+"Perhaps he would have had the cross of honour," added the bailiff, with
+a bantering, sarcastic air.
+
+"Besides, we must have a talk about my son, and a serious one,"
+continued Jacques Bastien. "My companion, Bridou, will also have a say
+in that."
+
+"I do not understand you," answered Marie, stammering. "What relation
+can M. Bridou possibly have with Frederick?"
+
+"You will know, because we will have a talk to-morrow, and with you, and
+about a good deal. Do not think you understand that this affair of my
+thousand fir-trees will pass like a letter by the post. But it is six
+o'clock, let us have dinner."
+
+And he rang.
+
+At these words, Marie remembered the silver plate carried to the city
+and sold in the absence and without the knowledge of her husband. Had
+she been alone with Jacques, she would have endured his threats and
+injuries and anger, but when she thought of the transports of rage he
+would yield to before her son and David, she was frightened at the
+possible consequences of such a scene, and with reason.
+
+Jacques Bastien went on talking:
+
+"Have you had a good fire made in Bridou's chamber? I wrote to you that
+he would spend several days here."
+
+"I thought you would share your chamber with M. Bridou," replied Madame
+Bastien. "Unless you do, I do not see how I can lodge the gentleman."
+
+"What! there is a chamber up-stairs."
+
+"But that is occupied by my son's preceptor."
+
+"You are very fine, you are, with your preceptor. Ah, well, 'tis easy to
+take him by the shoulders and put him out, your Latin spitter, and
+there's the room."
+
+"I should be distressed to put him out," said the bailiff. "I would
+prefer to go back."
+
+"Come, come, Bridou, evidently we are going to quarrel," replied
+Jacques.
+
+Then, turning to his wife, he said, angrily:
+
+"What! I warned you this morning that Bridou would spend several days
+here, and nothing is prepared?"
+
+"But, monsieur, I ask again, where do you wish me to put the preceptor
+of my son if M. Bridou occupies his chamber?"
+
+"The preceptor of my son," repeated Jacques, puffing up his cheeks and
+shrugging his shoulders; "you have only that in your mouth, playing the
+duchess. Ah well! the preceptor of your son can sleep with André, it
+won't kill him."
+
+"But surely, monsieur," said Marie, "you do not think that--"
+
+"Come now, do not provoke me, or I will go and tell your Latin spitter
+to march out of my house this instant, and see if I follow him on the
+road to Pont Brillant. It will amount in the end to my not being master
+of my own house, by God's thunder!"
+
+Marie trembled. She knew M. Bastien capable of driving the preceptor
+brutally out of the house. She was silent a moment, then remembering the
+untiring devotion of David, she replied, trying to restrain her tears:
+
+"Very well, monsieur, the preceptor will share André's chamber."
+
+"Indeed," answered Jacques, with a sarcastic air, "that is very
+fortunate."
+
+"And besides, you see, madame," added the bailiff with a conciliatory
+air, "a preceptor is little more than a servant, not anything more,
+because it is a person who takes wages, or I would not have him put out
+by the shoulders thus, as this great buffoon Jacques says."
+
+Marguerite entered at this moment to announce dinner. Bridou took off
+his blouse, passed his hand through his yellow hair, and with a
+coquettish air offered his arm to Madame Bastien, who trembled in every
+limb.
+
+Jacques Bastien threw his holly stick in a corner, kept on his blouse,
+and followed his wife and the bailiff to the dining-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+When Madame Bastien, her husband, and the bailiff entered the
+dining-room, they found there David and Frederick.
+
+The latter exchanged a glance with his preceptor, approached Jacques
+Bastien, and said to him, in a respectful tone:
+
+"Good morning, father, I thought you wished to be alone with my mother,
+and that is why I withdrew upon your arrival."
+
+"It seems that your hysterics are gone," said Bastien to his son, in a
+tone of sarcasm, "and you no longer need to travel for pleasure. That is
+a pity, for I wanted to humour you with pleasure."
+
+"I do not know what you mean, father."
+
+Instead of replying to his son, Bastien, still standing, occupied
+himself in counting the plates on the table; he saw five and said to his
+wife, curtly:
+
+"Why are there five plates?"
+
+"Why, monsieur, because we are five," replied Marie.
+
+"How five? I, Bridou, you and your son, does that make five?"
+
+"You forget M. David," said Marie.
+
+Jacques then addressed the preceptor.
+
+"Monsieur, I do not know upon what conditions my wife has engaged you.
+As for me, I am master here, and I do not like to have strangers at my
+table. That is my opinion."
+
+At this new rudeness, the calmness of David did not forsake him, the
+consciousness of insult brought an involuntary blush to his brow, but he
+bowed, without uttering a word, and started toward the door.
+
+Frederick, his face flushed with indignation and distress at this second
+outrage against the character and dignity of David, was preparing to
+follow him, when a supplicating glance from his friend arrested him.
+
+At this moment, Marie said to the preceptor:
+
+"M. David, M. Bastien having disposed of your chamber for a few days,
+will you consent to having a bed prepared for you in the chamber with
+old André?--unfortunately we have no other place for you."
+
+"Nothing easier, madame," replied David, smiling. "I have the honour of
+being somewhat at home; so it is for me to yield the chamber I occupy to
+a stranger."
+
+David bowed again and left the dining-room.
+
+After the departure of the preceptor, Jacques Bastien, entirely
+unconscious of his coarseness, sat down to the table, for he was very
+hungry in spite of the anger he nursed against his wife and son.
+
+Each one took his place.
+
+Jacques Bastien had Bridou on his right, Frederick on his left, and
+Marie sat opposite.
+
+The anxiety of the young woman made her seek to change the subject of
+conversation constantly; she feared Jacques might discover the absence
+of the silver plate.
+
+This revelation, however, hung upon a new incident.
+
+Jacques Bastien, removing the cover from the soup tureen, dilated his
+wide nostrils, so as to inhale the aroma of the cabbage soup he had
+ordered, but, finding his expectation mistaken, he cried furiously,
+addressing his wife:
+
+"What! no cabbage soup? and I wrote to you expressly that I wanted it.
+Perhaps there is no leg of mutton with cloves either?"
+
+"I do not know, monsieur, I forgot to--"
+
+"By God's thunder, what a woman,--there!" cried Jacques, furiously,
+throwing the tureen cover down on the table so violently that it broke
+in pieces.
+
+At the brutal exclamation of his father, Frederick betrayed his
+indignation by an abrupt movement.
+
+Immediately Marie, pressing her son's hand under the table, signified
+her disapproval, and he restrained himself, but his quick resentment did
+not escape the eye of Jacques, who, after looking a long time at his son
+in silence, said to Bridou:
+
+"Come, my comrade, we must content ourselves with this slop."
+
+"It is pot luck, my old fellow," said the bailiff. "Pot luck, eh, eh, we
+all know that."
+
+"Come," said Jacques, "let us at least say our grace before eating."
+
+And he poured out a bumper for Bridou, after which he emptied almost the
+rest of the bottle in an enormous glass, which he was accustomed to use,
+and which held a pint.
+
+The obese Hercules swallowed this bumper at one draught, then, disposing
+himself comfortably to serve the soup, he took in his hand an iron
+spoon, plated over, and bright with cleanliness.
+
+"Why in the devil did you put this pot ladle here?" said he to Marie.
+
+"Monsieur, I do not know," replied the young woman, looking down and
+stammering, "I--"
+
+"Why not put on the table my large silver ladle, as usual," asked
+Jacques. "Is it because my comrade Bridou has come to dine here?"
+
+Then, addressing his son, he said, abruptly:
+
+"Get the silver ladle from the buffet."
+
+"It is useless, father," said Frederick, resolutely, seeing the anguish
+of his mother and wishing to turn his father's anger toward himself.
+"The large silver ladle is not in the house; neither is the rest of the
+silver."
+
+"What?" asked Jacques, stupidly.
+
+But, not believing his ears, he seized the plate at his side, looked at
+it, and convinced of the truth of his son's words, he remained a moment,
+besotted with amazement.
+
+Frederick and his mother exchanged glances at this critical moment.
+
+The young man, determined to bring his father's anger on himself alone,
+replied, resolutely:
+
+"It was I, father; without telling my mother, I sold the silver for--"
+
+"Monsieur," cried Marie, addressing Jacques, "do not believe Frederick;
+it was I, and I alone, who--ah, well, yes, it was I who sold the
+silver."
+
+Notwithstanding his wife's confession, Jacques Bastien could not believe
+what he had heard, so preposterous, so impossible did the whole thing
+appear.
+
+Bridou himself, this time, sincerely shared the bewilderment of his
+friend, and the bailiff broke the silence by saying to Jacques:
+
+"Humph, humph, old fellow, this is another affair to selling your
+fir-trees, I think."
+
+Marie expected an explosion of wrath from her passionate husband. There
+was no such thing.
+
+Jacques remained silent, immovable, and absorbed for a long time. His
+broad face was more florid than usual. He drank, one after another, two
+great glasses of wine, leaned his elbows on the table, with his chin in
+the palm of his hand, drumming convulsively on his fat cheek with his
+contracted fingers. Fixing on his wife's face his two little gray eyes,
+which glittered under his frowning eyebrows with a sinister light, he
+said, with apparent calmness:
+
+"You say then, madame, that all the silver--"
+
+"Monsieur--"
+
+"Come, speak out, you see that I am calm."
+
+Frederick rose instinctively and stood by his mother as if to protect
+her, so much did his father's composure frighten him.
+
+"My child, sit down," said Marie, in a sweet, gentle voice.
+
+Frederick returned to his place at the table and sat down. This
+unexpected movement on the part of Frederick had been observed by M.
+Bastien, who contented himself with questioning his wife, without
+changing his attitude, and continuing to drum with the ends of his fat
+fingers upon his left cheek.
+
+"You say, then, madame, that the silver, that my silver--"
+
+"Ah, well, monsieur," replied Marie, in a firm voice, "your silver, I
+have sold it."
+
+"You have sold it?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"And to whom?"
+
+"To a silversmith in Pont Brillant."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"I do not know, monsieur."
+
+"Truly?"
+
+"It was not I who went to town to sell the silver, monsieur."
+
+"Then who did?"
+
+"No matter, monsieur, it is sold."
+
+"That is true," replied Bastien, emptying his glass again; "and why did
+you sell it, if you please,--sell this silver which belonged to me and
+to me alone?"
+
+"My friend," whispered Bridou to Jacques, "you frighten me; get angry,
+shriek, storm, howl, I would rather see that than to see you so
+calm,--your forehead is as white as a sheet and full of sweat."
+
+Bastien did not reply to his friend and continued:
+
+"You have, madame, sold my silver to buy what?"
+
+"I besought you, monsieur, to send me some money to help the victims of
+the overflow."
+
+"The overflow!" exclaimed Jacques, with a burst of derisive laughter.
+"That overflow has a famous back, it carries a good deal!"
+
+"I will not add another word on this subject," replied Marie, in a firm
+and dignified tone.
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+Evidently Jacques was making a superhuman effort to restrain the
+violence of his feelings. He was obliged to rise from the table and go
+to the window, which he opened, in spite of the rigour of the weather,
+to cool his burning forehead, for wicked designs were fermenting in his
+brain, and he made every effort to conceal them. When he took his place
+at the table again, he threw on Marie a strange and sinister look, and
+said to her, with an accent of cruel satisfaction:
+
+"If you knew how it is with me, since you have sold my silver, you would
+know that you have done me a real service."
+
+Although the ambiguity of these words caused her some disquietude, and
+she was alarmed at the incomprehensible calmness of her husband, Marie
+felt a momentary relief, for she had feared that M. Bastien, yielding to
+the natural brutality of his character, might so far forget himself as
+to come to injury and threats in the presence of her son, who would
+interpose between his mother and father.
+
+Without addressing another word to his wife, Jacques drank another glass
+of wine and said to his companion:
+
+"Come, old fellow, we are going to eat cold dough, on plates of beaten
+iron; it is pot luck, as you say."
+
+"Jacques," said the bailiff, more and more frightened at the calmness of
+Bastien, "I assure you I am not at all hungry."
+
+"I--I am ravenous," said Jacques, with a satirical laugh; "it is very
+easily accounted for; joy always increases my appetite, so, at the
+present moment, I am as hungry as a vulture."
+
+"Joy, joy," repeated the bailiff; "you do not look at all joyous."
+
+And Bridou added, addressing Marie, as if to reassure her, for,
+notwithstanding the hardness of his heart, he was almost moved to
+compassion:
+
+"It is all the same, madame, our brave Jacques now and then opens his
+eyes and grits his teeth, but at the bottom, he is--"
+
+"Good man," added Bastien, pouring out another drink; "such a good man,
+that he is a fool for it. It is all the same, you see, my old Bridou, I
+would not give my evening for fifty thousand francs. I have just
+realised a magnificent profit."
+
+Jacques Bastien never jested on money matters, and these words, "I would
+not give my evening for fifty thousand francs," he pronounced with such
+an accent of certainty and satisfaction that not only the bailiff
+believed in the mysterious words, but Madame Bastien believed in them
+also, and felt her secret terror increasing.
+
+In fact, the affected calmness of her husband, who--a strange and
+unnatural thing--grew paler in proportion as he drank, his satirical
+smile, his eyes glittering with a sort of baleful joy, when from time to
+time he looked at Frederick and his mother, carried anguish to the soul
+of the young woman. So, at the end of the repast, she said to Jacques,
+after having made a sign to Frederick to follow her:
+
+"Monsieur, I feel very much fatigued and quite ill; I ask your
+permission to retire with my son."
+
+"As you please," replied Jacques, with a guttural laugh, already showing
+excess of drink, "as you please; where there is constraint there is no
+pleasure. Do not incommode yourself. I shall incommode myself no longer.
+Be calm, have patience."
+
+At these words, as ambiguous as the first, which no doubt hid some
+mental reservation, Marie, having nothing to say, rose, while Frederick,
+obeying a glance from his mother, approached Jacques, and said to him,
+respectfully:
+
+"Good night, father."
+
+Jacques turned around to Bridou, without replying to his son, and said,
+as he measured Frederick with a satirical glance:
+
+"How do you like him?"
+
+"My faith, a very pretty boy."
+
+"Seventeen years old, soon," added Jacques.
+
+"That is a fine age for us," added the bailiff, exchanging an
+intelligent glance with Jacques, who said rudely to his son:
+
+"Good evening."
+
+Marie and Frederick retired, leaving Jacques Bastien and his comrade
+Bridou at the table.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+When Madame Bastien and Frederick, coming out of the dining-room, passed
+by the library, they saw David there, standing in the door watching for
+them.
+
+Marie extended her hand to him cordially, and said, making allusion to
+the two outrages to which the preceptor had so patiently submitted:
+
+"Can you still have the same devotion to us?"
+
+A loud noise of moving chairs and bursts of laughter from the
+dining-room informed the young woman that her husband and the bailiff
+were rising from the table. She hastened to her apartment with
+Frederick, after having said to David, with a look of despair:
+
+"To-morrow morning, M. David. I am now in unspeakable agony."
+
+"To-morrow, my friend," said Frederick, in his turn, to David, as he
+passed him.
+
+Then Marie and her son entered their apartment, while David ascended to
+the garret chamber he was to share with André.
+
+Scarcely had he entered his mother's chamber when Frederick threw
+himself in his mother's arms and cried with bitterness:
+
+"Oh, mother! we were so happy before the arrival of--"
+
+"Not a word more, my child; you are speaking of your father,"
+interrupted Marie. "Embrace me more tenderly than ever; you have need of
+it, and so have I; but no recriminations of your father."
+
+"My God! mother, you did not hear what he said to M. Bridou?"
+
+"When your father said, 'Frederick will soon be seventeen?'"
+
+"Yes, and that man said to my father, 'It is a good age for us.'"
+
+"I, as well as you, my child, heard his words."
+
+"'A good age for us,'--what does he mean by that, mother?"
+
+"I do not know," replied the young woman, hoping to calm and reassure
+her son. "Perhaps we attach too much to these words,--more than they
+deserve."
+
+After a short silence, Frederick said to Marie, in an altered voice:
+
+"Listen to me, mother. Since you desire it, I shall always have that
+respect for my father which I owe to him, but I tell you frankly,
+understand me,--if my father thinks ever of separating me from you and
+M. David--"
+
+"Frederick!" cried the young woman, alarmed at the desperate resolution
+she read in her son's countenance, "why suppose what is impossible--to
+separate us! to take you out of the hands of M. David, and that, too, at
+a time when-- But no, I repeat, your father has too much reason,
+too much good sense, to conceive such an idea."
+
+"May Heaven hear you, mother, but I swear to you, and you know my will
+is firm, that no human power shall separate me from you and M. David,
+and that I will boldly say to my father. Let him respect our affection,
+our indissoluble ties, and I will bless him; but if he dares to put his
+hand on our happiness--"
+
+"My son!"
+
+"Oh, mother! our happiness, it is your life, and your life I will defend
+against my father himself, you understand."
+
+"My God! my God! Frederick, I beseech you!"
+
+"Oh, let him take care! let him take care! two or three times this
+evening my blood revolted against his words."
+
+"Stop, Frederick, do not speak so; you will make me insane. Why, then,
+oh, my God! will you predict such painful, or rather, such impossible
+things! You only terrify yourself and render yourself desperate."
+
+"Very well, mother, we will wait; but believe me, the frightful calmness
+of my father when he learned of the sale of the silver hides something.
+We expected to see him burst forth into a passion, but he remained
+impassible, he became pale. I never saw him so pale, mother," said
+Frederick, embracing his mother with an expression of tenderness and
+alarm. "Mother, I am chilled to the heart, some danger threatens us."
+
+"Frederick," replied the young woman, with a tone of agonising reproach,
+"you frighten me terribly, and after all, your father will act according
+to his own will."
+
+"And I also, mother, I will have mine."
+
+"But why suppose your father has intentions which he has not and cannot
+have? Believe me, my child, in spite of his roughness, he loves you; why
+should he wish to grieve you? Why separate us and ruin the most
+beautiful, and the most assured hopes that a mother ever had for the
+future of her son? Wait,--I am sure that our friend M. David will say
+the same thing that I say to you. Come, calm yourself, take courage, we
+will have perhaps to pass through some disagreeable experiences, but we
+have already endured so much that is cruel, we cannot have much more to
+suffer."
+
+Frederick shook his head sadly, embraced his mother with more than usual
+tenderness, and entered his room.
+
+Madame Bastien rang for Marguerite.
+
+The old servant soon appeared.
+
+"Marguerite," said the young woman to her, "is M. Bastien still at
+table?"
+
+"Unfortunately he is, madame."
+
+"Unfortunately?"
+
+"Bless me, I have never seen monsieur with such a wicked face; he
+drinks--he drinks until it is frightful, and in spite of it all he is
+pale. He has just asked me for a bottle of brandy and--"
+
+"That is sufficient, Marguerite," said Marie, interrupting her servant;
+"have you prepared a bed in André's chamber for M. David?"
+
+"Yes, madame, M. David has just gone up there, but old André says he
+would rather sleep in the stable than dare stay in the same chamber with
+M. David. Besides, André will hardly have time to go to sleep to-night."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"Monsieur has ordered André to hitch the horse at three o'clock in the
+morning."
+
+"What! M. Bastien is going away in the middle of the night?"
+
+"Monsieur said the moon rose at half past two, and he wished to be at
+Blémur with M. Bridou at the break of day, so as to be able to return
+here to-morrow evening."
+
+"That is different. Come, good night, Marguerite."
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"My God, madame! I do not know if I can dare--"
+
+"Come, Marguerite, what is the matter?"
+
+"Madame has interrupted me every time I spoke of monsieur, and yet I had
+something to say--something--"
+
+And the servant stopped, looking at her mistress so uneasily, so sadly
+that the young woman exclaimed:
+
+"My God! what is the matter with you, Marguerite? You frighten me."
+
+"Ah, well, madame, when I went into the dining-room to give to monsieur
+the bottle of brandy he ordered, M. Bridou said to him, with a surprised
+and alarmed expression, 'Jacques, you will never do that.' Monsieur
+seeing me enter, made a sign to M. Bridou to hush, but when I went out,
+I--madame will excuse me perhaps on account of my intention--"
+
+"Go on, Marguerite."
+
+"I went out of the dining-room, but I stopped a moment behind the door,
+and I heard M. Bridou say to monsieur, 'Jacques, I say again, you will
+not do that.' Then monsieur replied, 'You will see.' I did not dare to
+listen to more of the conversation, and--"
+
+"You were right, Marguerite; you had already been guilty of an
+indiscretion which only your attachment to me can excuse."
+
+"What! What monsieur said does not frighten you?"
+
+"The words of M. Bastien which you have reported to me prove nothing,
+Marguerite; you are, I think, needlessly alarmed."
+
+"God grant it, madame."
+
+"Go and see, I pray you, if M. Bastien and M. Bridou are still at the
+table. If they have left it, you can go to bed, I have no further need
+of you."
+
+Marguerite returned in a few moments, and said to her mistress:
+
+"I have just given a light to monsieur and to M. Bridou, madame, they
+bade each other good night; but, wait, madame," said Marguerite,
+interrupting herself, "do you hear? that is M. Bridou now going
+up-stairs."
+
+In fact the steps of Bastien's boon companion resounded over the wooden
+staircase which conducted to the chamber formerly occupied by David.
+
+"Has M. Bastien entered his chamber?" asked Marie of the servant.
+
+"I can see from the outside if there is a light in monsieur's chamber,"
+replied Marguerite.
+
+The servant went out again, returned in a few moments, and said to her
+mistress, as she shivered with the cold:
+
+"Monsieur is in his chamber, madame; I can see the light through the
+blinds. My God, how bitter the cold is; it is snowing in great heaps,
+and I forgot to make your fire, madame. Perhaps you wish to sit up."
+
+"No, Marguerite, thank you, I am going to bed immediately." Marie added,
+after a moment's reflection: "My shutters are closed, are they not?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"And those of my son's chamber also?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Good night, Marguerite, come to me to-morrow at the break of day."
+
+"Madame has need of nothing else?"
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"Good night, madame."
+
+Marguerite went out.
+
+Marie locked her door, went to see if her shutters were closed, and
+slowly undressed, a prey to the most poignant anxiety, thinking of the
+various events of the evening, the mysterious words uttered by the
+bailiff, Bridou on the subject of Frederick, and especially of those
+words which passed between Jacques and his friend, which Marguerite had
+overheard:
+
+"Jacques, you will not do that?"
+
+"You will see."
+
+The young woman, wrapped in her dressing-gown, prepared as usual to
+embrace her son before going to bed, when she heard heavy walking in the
+corridor which opened into her apartment.
+
+No doubt it was the step of Jacques Bastien.
+
+Marie listened.
+
+The steps discontinued.
+
+Soon the sound of this heavy walking was succeeded by the noise of two
+hands, outside the door, groping in the darkness for the lock and key.
+
+Jacques Bastien wished to enter his wife's apartment.
+
+She, knowing the door was locked, at first felt assured, but soon,
+reflecting that if she did not open the door to her husband, he might
+in his brutal violence make a loud noise, or perhaps break the door, and
+by this uproar waken her son and call David down-stairs, and thus bring
+about a collision, the possible consequences of which filled her with
+alarm, she decided to open the door. Then, remembering that her son was
+in the next chamber, and that but a few minutes before all her maternal
+authority and tenderness were required to prevent an expression of his
+indignation against Jacques Bastien, she recalled his bitter words, and
+the resolution with which he uttered them:
+
+"To make an attempt on our happiness, would be to attempt your life,
+mother, and your life I will defend even against my father."
+
+Marie felt that no human power, not even her own, could prevent
+Frederick's interposition this time, if Jacques Bastien, intoxicated as
+in all probability he was, should enter her chamber, and attack her with
+invective and threatening.
+
+The alternative was terrible.
+
+Not to open the door would be to expose herself to a deplorable scandal.
+To open it was to set the son and father face to face, one drunk with
+anger and wine, the other exasperated by the sense of his mother's
+wrongs.
+
+These reflections, as rapid as thought, Marie had scarcely ended, when
+she heard Jacques Bastien, who had found the key, turn it in the lock
+and, finding an obstacle inside, shake the door violently.
+
+Then Marie took a desperate resolution; she ran to the door, removed the
+bolt, and standing on the threshold as if to forbid entrance to Jacques
+Bastien, she said to him in a low, supplicating voice:
+
+"My son is sleeping, monsieur; if you have something to say to me, come,
+I beseech you, in the library."
+
+The unhappy woman paused a moment.
+
+Her courage failed her, so terrible was the expression of Bastien's
+countenance.
+
+The rays of the lamp placed upon the chimneypiece in Marie's bedchamber
+shone full upon the face of M. Bastien, which, thus brilliantly lighted,
+seemed to glare upon the darkness of the corridor.
+
+This man, who had the breadth of Hercules, was now frightfully pale in
+consequence of the reaction of long continued drink and anger. He was
+about half drunk; his coarse, thick hair fell low on his forehead and
+almost concealed his little, wicked gray eyes. His bull-like neck was
+naked and his blouse open, as well as his great coat and vest, exposing
+a part of a powerful and hairy chest.
+
+At the sight of this man, Marie, as we have said, felt for a moment her
+courage give way.
+
+But, reflecting that the excited state in which M. Bastien was, only
+rendered him more passionate, and more intractable, that he would not
+hesitate at any violence or outburst of temper, and that then the
+intervention of David and Frederick would, unfortunately, become
+inevitable, the young woman, brave as she always was, thanked Heaven
+that her son had heard nothing, seized the lamp on the chimneypiece,
+returned to her husband, who stood immovable on the threshold, and said
+to him in a low voice:
+
+"Let us go in the library, monsieur. I am afraid, as I told you, of
+waking my son."
+
+M. Bastien appeared to take counsel with himself before yielding to
+Marie's desire.
+
+After several minutes' hesitation, during which the young woman almost
+died of anguish, the Hercules replied:
+
+"Well, to come to the point, I prefer that; come, go on before me."
+
+Marie, preceding Jacques Bastien in the corridor, soon entered the
+library.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+Madame Bastien, whose heart was beating violently, set the lamp on the
+chimneypiece in the library, and said to her husband:
+
+"What do you wish, monsieur?"
+
+Jacques had reached that degree of drunkenness which is not madness,
+which leaves the mind even quite clear, but which renders the will
+implacable; he did not at first reply to the question of Marie, who said
+again:
+
+"Please, monsieur, I beg you, tell me what you wish of me."
+
+Jacques, both hands in the pockets of his blouse, stood directly in
+front of his wife; sometimes he knit his eyebrows with a sinister
+expression as he stared at her, sometimes he smiled with a satirical
+air.
+
+Finally, addressing Marie with a slow and uncertain voice, for his
+half-drunken condition retarded his utterance and obliged him to make
+frequent pauses, he said to her:
+
+"Madame it is about seventeen years and a half that we have been
+married, is it not?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"What good have you been to me?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"You have not even served me as a wife."
+
+Marie, her cheeks coloured with shame and indignation, started to go
+out.
+
+Bastien barred the passage and cried elevating his voice:
+
+"Stop there!"
+
+"Silence, monsieur!" said the unhappy woman, whose fears were renewed
+lest David and Frederick should be awakened by the noise of an
+altercation.
+
+So, waiting for new outrages, and resigned beforehand to submit to them,
+she said to Jacques, in a trembling voice:
+
+"For pity's sake, monsieur, do not speak so loud, they will hear you. I
+will listen to you, as painful as this conversation is to me."
+
+"I tell you that you have been no good to me since we were married; a
+servant hired for wages would have kept my house better than you, and
+with less expense."
+
+"Perhaps, monsieur," replied Marie, with a bitter smile, "this servant
+might not, as I, have reared your son--"
+
+"To hate his father?"
+
+"Monsieur!"
+
+"Enough! I saw that clearly this evening. If you had not prevented him,
+that blackguard would have used abusive language to me and ranged
+himself on your side. It is very plain, and he is not the only one. As
+soon as I arrive here, in my own house, each one of you says, 'There is
+the enemy, there is the wild boar, there is the ogre!' Ah, well, let me
+be an ogre; that suits me very well."
+
+"You are mistaken, monsieur; I have always taught your son the respect
+that is due you, and this evening even--"
+
+"Enough!" cried Hercules, interrupting his wife.
+
+And he pursued his thought with the tenacity of the drunkard, who
+concentrates upon one idea all the lucidity of mind left to him.
+
+"I tell you again," continued he, "that since our marriage you have
+served me in nothing; you have made of my son a coxcomb, who requires
+preceptors and pleasure excursions to drive away his hysterics, and
+who, over and above that, curses me; you have rifled my wood and my
+silver, you have stolen from me!"
+
+"Monsieur!" cried Marie, indignant.
+
+"You have stolen from me!" repeated Hercules, in such a thundering
+voice, that Marie clasped her hands, and murmured:
+
+"Oh, for mercy's sake, monsieur, not so loud, not so loud!"
+
+"Now then, since in these seventeen years you have done me nothing but
+evil, this cannot last."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I have enough of it."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I have too much of it. I want no more of it."
+
+"I do not understand you, monsieur."
+
+"No? Well, then, when a person or a thing plagues me, I get rid of it,
+and the quicker the better."
+
+Notwithstanding his excitement, Madame Bastien did not for a moment
+believe that her husband thought of killing her; so, trying to discover
+his intention, under his mask of besotted anger, she said to him:
+
+"If I understand you rightly, monsieur, you have decided to rid yourself
+of persons who annoy you or displease you?"
+
+"Just so! As your little puppy of a son plagues me, to-morrow I will get
+rid of him."
+
+"You will get rid of him? But, monsieur--"
+
+"Silence! Bridou will take him; he will take him away with him to-morrow
+evening, upon our return from Blémur."
+
+"You say, monsieur, that M. Bridou will take my son; please explain to
+me."
+
+"He will take him for his board as a young clerk, and your Benjamin who
+is not mine will be lodged, fed, and washed, and at eighteen years will
+get six hundred francs, if Bridou is satisfied with him."
+
+"Nobody will dispose of my son's future without my consent, monsieur."
+
+"Eh!" replied Jacques, with a sort of hollow roar.
+
+"Oh, monsieur, if you were to kill me on the spot, I would say the same
+thing."
+
+"Eh!" again roared the colossus, more threatening still.
+
+"I tell you, monsieur, that my son shall not leave me. He will continue
+his studies under the direction of his preceptor. I will inform you, if
+you wish, of the plans I have for Frederick, and--"
+
+"Ah! that is it, is it?" cried the colossus, furious at the resistance
+of his wife. "Ah, well, to-morrow I will take this Latin spitter by the
+shoulders and kick him out of my door. Another one who plagues me, and I
+will get rid of. As to you--"
+
+"What will be my fate, monsieur?"
+
+"You shall clear the house, like the others."
+
+"What do you say, monsieur?"
+
+"When I have enough of a thing, or when I have too much of a thing or a
+person, I get rid of it."
+
+"So, monsieur, you intend to drive me out of your house?"
+
+"Still stubborn, are you? For seventeen years you have been no good to
+me, you have turned my son against me, you have plundered my wood,
+stolen my silver,--all that plagues me, and I wish to get rid of it. But
+to begin, where are your jewels?"
+
+"My jewels?" asked Marie, astonished at this unexpected demand.
+
+"Yes, your jewels, valued at nearly one thousand francs; go and get them
+and give them to me; that will compensate me for the silver you have
+robbed me of."
+
+"I do not own these jewels any longer, monsieur."
+
+"What!"
+
+"I have sold them."
+
+"What!" cried Jacques, stammering with anger, "you--you--you--"
+
+"I have sold them, monsieur, at the same time the silver was sold, and
+for the same object."
+
+"You lie!" cried the colossus, in a formidable voice.
+
+"Oh, speak lower, monsieur, I implore you, speak lower."
+
+"You are hiding your jewels to keep from paying me," added Hercules,
+taking a step toward his wife with his fists clenched, and his face
+livid with rage; "you are twice a thief!"
+
+"Please, monsieur, do not scream so!" cried the young woman, not
+thinking of the grossness of the insults heaped upon her, but fearing
+that Frederick and David might be awakened by his loud talk.
+
+In short, furious that he could not obtain his wife's jewels as a
+compensation for the loss of his silver,--the one idea which had
+occupied his mind the whole evening,--Jacques, excited to frenzy by wine
+and disappointed rage, cried out:
+
+"Ah! you have hidden those jewels, have you? Well, it will not be
+to-morrow that you will go out of my house, but it will be to-night,--at
+once."
+
+"Monsieur, this is a cruel jest," replied Marie, overcome by so many
+bitter experiences. "I desire to go to my chamber; it is late, and I am
+chilled. To-morrow we will talk seriously; you will then regain your
+self-possession, and--"
+
+"That is as much as to say I am drunk now, eh?"
+
+"To-morrow, monsieur. Permit me to retire."
+
+Jacques, dreadful with anger, hatred, and drunkenness, walked up to his
+wife, and pointing to the dark corridor which conducted to the outside
+door, said:
+
+"Go out of my house! I order you out, you double thief!"
+
+Marie could not believe that Jacques was speaking seriously. She had
+been trying to end the painful conversation as soon as possible, to
+prevent the intervention of David and her son. So she answered,
+addressing her husband with the greatest sweetness, hoping thereby to
+calm him:
+
+"Monsieur, I beseech you, go to your chamber, and let me go to mine. I
+repeat to you that to-morrow--"
+
+"God's thunder!" cried Jacques, beside himself with rage, "I did not
+tell you to go back to your chamber, but to go out of my house. Must I
+take you by the shoulders and put you out?"
+
+"Outside!" cried Marie, who understood from the ferocity of Bastien's
+face that he was speaking seriously.
+
+It was ferocity, it was stupidity, but what could be expected from such
+a wretch, made furious by drink.
+
+"Outside!" said Marie again, terrified. "But, monsieur, you do not mean
+it; it is night, it is cold."
+
+"What is all that to me?"
+
+"Monsieur, I beseech you, come to yourself. My God! it is one o'clock in
+the morning; where do you wish me to go?"
+
+"I will--"
+
+"But, monsieur--"
+
+"Once more! will you go out, thief?"
+
+And the colossus made a step toward his wife.
+
+"Monsieur, one word, just one word!"
+
+"Twice, will you go out?"
+
+And Jacques took another step toward his wife.
+
+"Please listen to me."
+
+"Three times! will you go out?"
+
+And the Hercules turned up his sleeves to take hold of his wife.
+
+What could the unfortunate woman do?
+
+Cry,--call for help?
+
+Frederick and David would awaken, would run to the spot, and for Marie,
+there was something more horrible than this cruel, outrageous expulsion;
+it was the shame, the dreadful idea of being seen by her son fighting
+against her husband, who wished to thrust her, half naked, out of his
+house. Her dignity as wife and as mother revolted at this thought, and
+above all, at the idea of a desperate struggle between her son and her
+husband which might result in murder,--in parricide,--for Frederick
+would not stop at any extremity to defend a mother driven out of the
+house. Marie then submitted, and when Jacques started to seize her and
+repeated:
+
+"Three times! will you go out?"
+
+"Ah, well, yes, yes, monsieur, I will go out," she replied, in a
+trembling voice. "I am going out immediately, but no noise, I implore
+you!"
+
+Then desperate, extending her supplicating hands toward Jacques, who,
+still threatening, walked up to her and pointed to the outside door,
+Marie, going backwards step by step in the darkness, at last reached the
+end of the corridor.
+
+Bastien opened the door.
+
+A puff of icy wind rushed through the entrance.
+
+Outside, nothing but darkness and drifting snow.
+
+"Oh, my God! what a night!" murmured Marie, terrified in spite of her
+resolution, and wishing to turn back; "mercy, monsieur!"
+
+"Good evening!" said the wretch, with a ferocious giggle, as he pushed
+his wife out of the door.
+
+Then, shutting the door again, he bolted it.
+
+Marie, bareheaded, and with no clothing but her dressing-gown, felt her
+feet sink into the thick layer of snow with which the floor of the porch
+was already covered, in spite of the rustic roof.
+
+A ray of hope remained to the poor woman; for a moment, she believed
+that her husband was only perpetrating a joke as cruel as it was stupid;
+but she heard Jacques walking away heavily.
+
+Soon he had reached his chamber, as Marie discovered by the light which
+shone through the window-blinds.
+
+Frozen by the sharp, penetrating north wind, Marie's teeth began to
+chatter convulsively. She tried to reach the stables situated in a
+neighbouring building. Unfortunately she found the garden gate fastened,
+and then she remembered that this garden, surrounded by buildings on all
+sides, was enclosed by a fence, in the middle of which was a door which
+she could not succeed in opening.
+
+Three windows overlooked this garden, two belonging to the apartment of
+Jacques Bastien, and the other to the dining-room, where nobody slept.
+
+Marie had no other help to expect.
+
+She resigned herself to her fate.
+
+The poor creature came back to the porch, swept off the snow which
+covered the threshold with her hands, and already chilled, stiffened by
+the cold, seated herself on the stone step, barely sheltered by the roof
+of the porch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+Jacques Bastien, after having brutally put his wife out of the house,
+returned to his chamber with a tottering step, threw himself on the bed
+in his clothes, and fell into a profound sleep.
+
+At three o'clock, according to the order he had given in the evening,
+Marguerite carried a light to her master and found him asleep; she had
+much difficulty in awakening him, and announced to him that old André
+had hitched the horse to the little carriage.
+
+Jacques, still heavy with sleep and the consequences of his
+intoxication, which obscured his ideas, shook himself in his garments,
+like a tawny beast in his fur, passed his hand through his tangled hair,
+put on his back over his clothes an overcoat of goatskin with long
+hairs, rinsed his mouth with a full glass of brandy, and sent Marguerite
+to inform Bridou that all was ready for their departure.
+
+Bastien's head was aching, his ideas confused, and he scarcely had a
+vague remembrance of his atrocious brutality toward his wife; he
+struggled painfully against a violent desire to sleep, and while waiting
+for his companion, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he
+was beginning to sleep again, when Bridou entered.
+
+"Come, Jacques, come along," said the bailiff; "you look stupid all
+over, old fellow, shake yourself up."
+
+"There! there!" replied M. Bastien, standing upon his legs and rubbing
+his eyes. "My head is heavy and my eyes full of sand,--perhaps the fresh
+air will revive me. Wait, Bridou, drink a drop, and then we will set
+off on our journey. It is twelve miles from here to Blémur."
+
+"To your health, then, old fellow!" said the bailiff, pouring out a
+glass of brandy. "Ah, so, you will not drink?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, it will wake me up, for my brain is devilishly confused."
+
+And, after having swallowed a new bumper of brandy, which, far from
+clearing his ideas, rendered them all the more confused, Bastien,
+preceding Bridou, went out of his chamber, followed the corridor and
+opened the door, through which he had driven his wife two hours before.
+
+But Marie had left the porch where she had at first cowered.
+
+The snow had ceased to fall.
+
+The moon shone in the sky, the cold was becoming more and more intense.
+Jacques felt it keenly, for he had just swallowed two glasses of brandy,
+and for a few moments he seemed bewildered, walking directly before him
+across the lawn, instead of following the walk which led to the gate.
+
+Bridou saw the distraction of his friend and said to him:
+
+"Jacques, Jacques, where in the devil are you going?"
+
+"Sure enough," responded the Hercules, stopping short and balancing
+himself on his legs. "Sure enough, old fellow," said he. "I do not know
+what is the matter with me; I am besotted this morning. I go to the
+right when I mean to go to the left. It is the cold which pinches me so
+when I come out of the house."
+
+"It is enough to pinch one!" replied Bridou, shivering. "I have a hood
+and a comforter, and I am frozen."
+
+"You chilly fellow, go on!"
+
+"That is very easy for you to say."
+
+"Come, Bridou, do you want my skin?"
+
+"What! your skin?"
+
+"My goatskin, you idiot!"
+
+"And what will you do, Jacques?"
+
+"Take it; when I get into the carriage the heat will fly to my head, and
+I shall sleep in spite of myself."
+
+"Then, Jacques, I accept your skin all the more cheerfully, my old
+fellow, for if you fall asleep you will turn us over."
+
+"Here, put it on," said Jacques, taking off his goatskin, in which his
+companion soon wrapped himself. "Come, now," said Bastien, passing his
+hand over his forehead, "I feel more like myself; I am better."
+
+And Jacques, with a less unsteady step, reached the gate that André had
+just opened from the outside, as he led the old white horse, hitched to
+the carriage, to a convenient spot for his master.
+
+Bastien jumped into the carriage first; Bridou, embarrassed by the
+goatskin, stumbled on the foot-board.
+
+"Take care, master, take care," said old André, deceived by the
+goatskin, and thinking he was addressing M. Bastien. "Pay attention,
+master!"
+
+"Jacques, this must be a regular lion's skin," whispered the bailiff.
+"Your servant takes me for you, old fellow, because I have on your
+cloak."
+
+Bastien, whose mind continued to be somewhat confused, took the reins
+and said to André, who stood at the horse's head:
+
+"Is the old road to Blémur good?"
+
+"The old road? Why, nobody can pass, monsieur."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because the overflow has washed up everything, monsieur, without
+counting the embankment on the side of the pond which has been swept
+away,--so from that place the road is still covered ten feet in water."
+
+"That is a pity, for that would have shortened our way wonderfully,"
+replied Bastien, whipping the horse so vigorously that it started off at
+a full gallop.
+
+"Softly, Jacques, softly," said the bailiff, beginning to feel concerned
+about his comrade's condition. "The roads are not good and you must not
+upset us. Come, come now, Jacques, do pay attention! Ah, you do not look
+an inch before you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We will leave M. Bridou in his constantly increasing perplexity and will
+return to the farm.
+
+As we have said, Marie, after having tried in vain to reach the stable
+through the garden gate, came back and cowered down in one of the
+corners of the porch.
+
+During the first half-hour the cold had caused her the most painful
+suffering. To this torture succeeded a sort of numbness at first very
+distressing; then soon followed a state of almost complete
+insensibility, an invincible torpor, which in such circumstances often
+proves a transition to death.
+
+Marie, brave as ever, preserved her presence of mind a long time and
+tried to divert her thoughts from the danger that she was running,
+saying to herself that at three o'clock in the morning there must
+necessarily be some stir in the house caused by the departure of M.
+Bastien, who wished, as Marguerite had told her, to set out on his
+journey at the rising of the moon.
+
+Whether he left or not, the young woman intended to profit by the going
+and coming of Marguerite, and to make herself heard by rapping either on
+the door of the corridor or the blinds of the dining-room, and thus gain
+an entrance into her chamber.
+
+But the terrible influence of the cold--the rapid and piercing effects
+of which were unknown to Madame Bastien--froze, so to speak, her
+thoughts, as it froze her limbs.
+
+At the end of the half-hour the exhausted woman yielded to an
+unconquerable drowsiness, from which she would rise a moment by sheer
+force of courage, to fall back again into a deeper sleep than before.
+
+About three o'clock in the morning, the light that Marguerite carried
+had several times shone through the window-blinds, and her steps had
+resounded behind the front door.
+
+But Marie, in an ever increasing torpor, saw nothing and heard nothing.
+
+Fortunately, in one of the rare periods when she succeeded in rousing
+herself from her stupor, she trembled at the voice of Bastien; as he
+went out with Bridou he noisily drew the bolt of the door.
+
+At the voice of her husband the young woman, by an almost superhuman
+effort of will, roused herself from her stupor, rose, although stiff and
+almost bent double by the icy cold, went out of the porch, and hid
+herself behind one of the ivy-covered posts, just as the door opened
+before Bastien and Bridou, who went out through the garden gate. Marie,
+seeing the two men depart, slipped into the house and reached her
+chamber without having met Marguerite. But the moment she rang, her
+strength failed, and she fell on the floor unconscious.
+
+The servant ran at the sound of her mistress's bell, found her lying in
+the middle of the floor, and cried, as she stooped to lift her up:
+
+"Great God! madame, what has happened to you?"
+
+"Silence!" murmured the young woman in a feeble voice; "do not wake my
+son! Help me to get back to bed."
+
+"Alas! madame," said the servant, sustaining Marie as the poor woman got
+into bed, "you are shivering, you are frozen."
+
+"To-night," replied the young mother, with a failing voice, "feeling
+myself in pain I tried to rise to ring for you. I had not the strength,
+I was ill, and just this moment I dragged myself to the chimney to call
+you, and I--"
+
+The young woman did not finish; her teeth clashed together, her head
+fell back, and she fainted.
+
+Marguerite, frightened at the responsibility resting on her, and losing
+her presence of mind entirely, cried, as she ran to Frederick's chamber:
+
+"Monsieur, monsieur! get up! madame is very ill." Then, returning to
+Marie, she cried, kneeling down by the bed:
+
+"My God! what must I do, what must I do?"
+
+At the end of a few moments Frederick, having put on his dressing-gown,
+came out of his chamber.
+
+Imagine his agony at the sight of his mother,--pale, inanimate, and from
+time to time writhing under a convulsive chill.
+
+"Mother," cried Frederick, kneeling in despair by Marie's pillow.
+"Mother, answer me, what is the matter?"
+
+"Alas! M. Frederick," said Marguerite, sobbing, "madame is unconscious.
+What shall I do, my God, what shall I do?"
+
+"Marguerite," cried Frederick, "run and wake M. David."
+
+While Frederick, in unspeakable terror, remained near his mother, the
+servant hurried to André's chamber, where David had spent the night. The
+preceptor, dressing himself in haste, opened the door for Marguerite.
+
+"My God! what is the matter?"
+
+"M. David, a great trouble,--madame--"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"To-night she was taken ill and rose to ring for me; all her strength
+failed her; she had fallen in the middle of her chamber, where she lay a
+long time on the floor; when I entered and helped her to bed she was
+frozen."
+
+"On such a night,--it is frightful!" cried David, turning pale; "and
+now, how is she?"
+
+"My God! M. David, she has fainted away. Poor M. Frederick is on his
+knees at her pillow sobbing; he calls her, but she hears nothing. It was
+he who told me to run for you, because we do not know what to do, we
+have all lost our head."
+
+"You must tell André to hitch up and go in haste to Pont Brillant for
+Doctor Dufour. Run, run, Marguerite."
+
+"Alas! monsieur, that is impossible. Master left this morning at three
+o'clock with the horse, and André is so old that he would take I do not
+know how much time to go to the city."
+
+"I will go," said David, with a calmness which belied the agitation
+depicted in his face.
+
+"You, M. David, go to the city on foot so far this freezing night!"
+
+"In an hour," replied David, as he finished dressing himself for the
+journey, "Doctor Dufour will be here. Tell Frederick that to calm him.
+While waiting my return, you had better take some warm tea to Madame
+Bastien. Try to get her warm by covering her with care, and drawing her
+bed near the large fire which you must kindle immediately. Come,
+courage, Marguerite," added David, taking his hat and hastily descending
+the stairs; "be sure to tell Frederick Doctor Dufour will be here in an
+hour."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Marguerite, after having conducted David to the garden gate, came to get
+the lamp that she had left on the threshold of the door, sheltered by
+the rustic porch.
+
+As she stooped to take up the lamp she saw, half hidden by the snow, a
+neckerchief of orange silk belonging to Madame Bastien, and almost in
+the same spot she found a little slipper of red morocco encrusted, so to
+speak, in the snow hardened by the ice.
+
+More and more surprised, and wondering how these articles, which
+evidently belonged to her mistress, came to be there, Marguerite, struck
+with a sudden idea, picked up the neckerchief and the slipper, then,
+with the aid of her lamp, she examined attentively the pavement of the
+corridor.
+
+There she recognised the recent imprint of snow-covered feet, so that
+in following this trace of Madame Bastien's little feet she noticed the
+last tracks at the door of her mistress. Suddenly Marguerite recollected
+that when she had assisted her mistress, overcome by the cold, to get in
+bed, it had not been unmade; other circumstances corroborated these
+observations, and the servant, terrified at the discovery she had just
+made, entered Madame Bastien's chamber, where Frederick was sitting near
+his mother.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour and a quarter after David's departure a cabriolet with two
+horses white with foam and marked with the postilion's whip stopped at
+the door of the farm.
+
+David and Doctor Dufour descended from this carriage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+About three hours had passed since the doctor had arrived at the farm.
+
+David, discreetly withdrawn into the library, waited with mortal anxiety
+the news of Madame Bastien, with whom the doctor and Frederick remained.
+
+Once only, David, standing in the door of the library, and seeing
+Marguerite rapidly passing, as she came from the chamber of her
+mistress, called, in a low voice:
+
+"Ah, well, Marguerite?"
+
+"Ah, M. David!" was the only reply of the weeping woman, who passed on
+without stopping.
+
+"She is dying," said David, returning to the library.
+
+And pale, his features distorted, his heart broken, he threw himself in
+an armchair, hid his face in his hands, and burst into tears, vainly
+trying to suppress his sobs.
+
+"I have realised the despair of this restrained, hidden, impossible
+love," murmured he. "I thought I had suffered cruelly,--what is it to
+suffer derision compared to the fear of losing Marie? To lose her,--she
+to die--no, no! oh, but I will at least see her!"
+
+And almost crazed with grief, David rushed across the room, but he
+stopped at the door.
+
+"She is dying, perhaps, and I have no right to assist at her agony. What
+am I here? A stranger. Let me listen--nothing--nothing--the silence of
+the tomb. My God! in this chamber, where she perhaps is in the agony of
+death, what is happening? Ah, some one is coming out. It is Pierre."
+
+And David, taking one step into the corridor, saw in the twilight of the
+dark passage, the doctor coming out of Marie's chamber.
+
+"Pierre," said he, in a low voice, to hasten his coming, "Pierre!"
+
+Doctor Dufour advanced rapidly toward David, when the latter heard a
+voice whisper:
+
+"Doctor, I must speak to you."
+
+At this voice Doctor Dufour stopped abruptly before the door of the
+dining-room, where he entered.
+
+"Whose is this voice?" thought David. "Is it Marguerite? My God! what
+has happened?" and he listened on the side where the doctor entered. "It
+is Pierre who is talking; his exclamations announce indignation, dismay.
+There, he is coming out at last; here he is."
+
+In fact, Doctor Dufour, his face altered, and frowning with anger,
+entered the library, his hands still clasped in a gesture of horror, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"It is horrible! it is infamous!"
+
+David, thinking only of Marie, sprang to meet his friend.
+
+"Pierre, in the name of Heaven, how is she? The truth! I will have
+courage, but for pity's sake, the truth, frightful as it may be. There
+is no torture equal to what I have endured here for three hours, asking
+myself, is she living, agonising, or dead?"
+
+The distorted features of David, his glowing eyes, red with recent
+tears, the inflection of his voice, betrayed at the same time so much
+despair and so much love, that Doctor Dufour, although himself under the
+power of violent emotion, stopped short at the sight of his friend, and
+gazed at him some moments before replying to him.
+
+"Pierre, you tell me nothing, nothing!" cried David, distracted with
+grief. "Is she dying, then?"
+
+"No, Henri, she is not dying."
+
+"She will live!" cried David.
+
+At this hope, his face became transfigured; he pressed the physician to
+his breast, as he murmured, unable to restrain his tears:
+
+"I shall owe you more than life, Pierre."
+
+"Henri," replied the doctor, with a sigh, "I have not said that she
+would live."
+
+"You fear?"
+
+"Very much."
+
+"Oh, my God! but at least you hope?"
+
+"I dare not yet."
+
+"And how is she at this moment?"
+
+"More calm, she is sleeping."
+
+"Oh, she must live, she must live, Pierre! she will live, will she not?
+she will live?"
+
+"Henri, you love her."
+
+Recalled to himself by these words of his friend, David trembled,
+remained silent, with his eyes fixed on the eyes of the doctor.
+
+The latter answered, in a grave and sad tone:
+
+"Henri, you love her. I have not surprised your secret. You have just
+revealed it yourself."
+
+"I?"
+
+"By your grief."
+
+"It is true, I love her."
+
+"Henri," cried the doctor, with tears in his eyes and with deep emotion,
+"Henri, I pity you, oh, I pity you."
+
+"It is a love without hope, I know it; but let her live, and I will
+bless the torments that I must endure near her, because her son, who
+binds us for ever, will always be a link between her and me."
+
+"Yes, your love is without hope, Henri; yes, delicacy will always
+prevent your ever letting Marie suspect your sentiments. But that is not
+all, and I repeat it to you, Henri, you are more to be pitied than you
+think."
+
+"My God! Pierre, what do you mean?"
+
+"Do you know? But wait, my blood boils, my indignation burns, everything
+in me revolts, because I cannot speak of such a base atrocity with
+calmness."
+
+"Unhappy woman, it concerns her. Oh, speak, speak, I pray you. You crush
+me, you kill me!"
+
+"Just now I was coming to join you."
+
+"And some one stopped you in the passage."
+
+"It was Marguerite. Do you know where Madame Bastien spent a part of the
+night?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"She spent it out of her house."
+
+"She? the night out of her house?"
+
+"Yes, her husband thrust her outdoors, half naked, this bitter cold
+night."
+
+David shuddered through his whole body, then pressing both hands to his
+forehead as if to restrain the violence of his thoughts, he said to the
+doctor, in a broken voice:
+
+"Wait, Pierre; I have heard your words, but I do not understand their
+import. A cloud seems to be passing over my mind."
+
+"At first, neither did I understand it, my friend; it was too monstrous.
+Marguerite, yesterday evening, a little while after leaving her
+mistress, heard a long conversation, sometimes in a low voice, sometimes
+with violence, in the library, then walking in the corridor; then the
+noise of a door which opened and shut, then nothing more. In the night,
+after the departure of M. Bastien, Marguerite, rung up by her mistress,
+thought at first Marie had fainted, but later, by certain indications,
+she had the proof that her mistress had been compelled to stay from
+midnight until three o'clock, in the porch, exposed to all the severity
+of this freezing night. So, this sickness, mortal perhaps--"
+
+"But it is a murder!" cried David, mad with grief and rage. "That man is
+an assassin!"
+
+"The wretch was drunk as Marguerite has told me; it was in consequence
+of an altercation with the unhappy woman that he thrust her outdoors."
+
+"Pierre, this man will return presently; he has insulted me grossly
+twice; I intend to provoke him and kill him."
+
+"Henri, keep calm."
+
+"I wish to kill him."
+
+"Listen to me."
+
+"If he refuses to fight me, I will assassinate him and kill myself
+afterward. Marie shall be delivered from him."
+
+"Henri, Henri! this is madness!"
+
+"Oh, my God! she, she, treated in this way!" said David, in a
+heartrending voice. "To know that this angel of purity, this adorable
+mother and saint, is always at the mercy of this stupid and brutal man!
+And do you not see that if she does not die this time, he will kill her
+some other time?"
+
+"I believe it, Henri, and yet he need not have her in his power."
+
+"And you are not willing that I--"
+
+"Henri," cried the doctor, seizing his friend's hand with effusion,
+"Henri, noble and excellent heart, come to yourself, be what you have
+always been, full of generosity and courage,--yes, of courage, for it is
+necessary to have courage to accomplish a cruel sacrifice, but one
+indispensable to the salvation of Madame Bastien."
+
+"A sacrifice for Marie's salvation! Oh, speak, speak!"
+
+"Brave, noble heart, you are yourself again, and I was wrong to tell you
+that you were more to be pitied than you thought, for souls like yours
+live upon sacrifices and renunciations. Listen to me, Henri,--admitting
+that I can save Madame Bastien from the disease she has contracted
+to-night, a most dangerous inflammation of the lungs, this angelic woman
+ought not to remain in the power of this wretch."
+
+"Go on, finish!"
+
+"There is an honourable and lawful means of snatching from this man the
+victim that he has tortured for seventeen years."
+
+"And what is this means?"
+
+"A legal separation."
+
+"And how is it to be obtained?"
+
+"The atrocious conduct of this man, during this night, is a serious
+charge of cruelty. Marguerite will testify to it; it will not be
+necessary to have more to obtain a separation, and besides, I myself
+will see the judges, and I will tell them, with all the ardour and
+indignation of an honest heart, the conduct of Bastien toward his wife
+since his marriage; I will tell them of Marie's angelic resignation, of
+her admirable devotion to her son, and above all, of the purity of her
+life."
+
+"Stop, Pierre; a little while ago I spoke like a madman. To beastly
+wickedness, I responded with homicidal violence. You are right, Madame
+Bastien must be separated from her husband, that she may be free." And
+at this thought, David could not repress a thrill of hope. "Yes, let her
+be free, and then, being able to dispose of her son's future, and--"
+
+"Henri," said the physician, interrupting his friend, "you must
+understand that to make this separation worthy and honourable on Marie's
+part, it is essential that you go away."
+
+"I!" cried David, shocked at the words of the doctor, who continued, in
+a firm voice:
+
+"Henri, I repeat to you, it is absolutely essential for you to go away."
+
+"Leave her, leave her dying? Never!"
+
+"My friend!"
+
+"Never! neither would she consent to it."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"No, she would not allow me to depart,--abandon her son, whom I love as
+my child,--abandon him in the very moment we are about to realise our
+highest hopes,--it would be the most culpable folly. I would not do it,
+and this dear boy would not endure it either. You do not know what he is
+to me, you do not know what I am to him; indissoluble ties unite
+us,--him and his mother, and myself."
+
+"I know all that, Henri; I know the power of these ties; I know too that
+your love, of which perhaps Marie is ignorant, is as pure as it is
+respectful."
+
+"And you wish to send me away?"
+
+"Yes, because I know that Marie and you are both young; because you are
+compelled every moment to associate intimately; because the expression
+of the gratitude she owes you would, to suspicious eyes, seem the
+expression of a more tender sentiment; because, in fact, I know that the
+old Marquise of Pont Brillant, shameless old dowager if there is one,
+has made at the castle, in the presence of twenty persons, wicked and
+satirical allusions to the age and appearance of the preceptor that
+Madame Bastien has chosen for her son."
+
+"Oh, that is infamous!"
+
+"Yes, it is infamous; yes, it is shameful; but you will give
+plausibility to these calumnies, if you remain in this house while
+Madame Bastien, after seventeen years of marriage, is suing for a
+separation."
+
+"But I swear to you, Pierre, she knows nothing of my love; for you know
+well that I would rather die than say one word to her of this love,
+because she owes the salvation of her son to me."
+
+"I have no doubt of you, or of her, but I repeat to you, that your
+prolonged sojourn in this house will prove an irreparable injury to
+Marie."
+
+"Pierre, these fears are foolish."
+
+"These fears are only too well founded; your presence here, so wickedly
+misconstrued, will be a reproach to the stainless purity of Marie's
+life; her request for a separation will be judged beforehand, and
+perhaps rejected. Then Bastien, more than ever irritated against his
+wife, will treat her with renewed cruelty, and he will kill her,
+Henri,--kill her legally, kill her honourably, as so many husbands kill
+their wives."
+
+The justice of the doctor's words was evident; David could not fail to
+recognise it. Wishing, however, to cling to a last and forlorn hope, he
+said:
+
+"But, really, Pierre, how can I leave Frederick, who, this present
+moment, needs all my care? For his mental health is scarcely confirmed.
+Dear child! to leave at the very time when I see such a glorious future
+in store for him?"
+
+"But, remember, pray, that this evening M. Bastien will be here, that he
+will tell you, perhaps, to leave the house,--for after all, he is master
+of this house; then what will you do?"
+
+The conversation between David and the doctor was interrupted by
+Frederick, who entered hurriedly and said to Doctor Dufour:
+
+"My mother has just awakened from her sleep, and desires to speak to you
+at once."
+
+"My child," said the physician to Frederick, "I have something special
+to say to your mother. Please remain here with David."
+
+And turning to his friend, he added:
+
+"Henri, I can rely on you; you understand me?"
+
+"I understand you."
+
+"You give me your word to do what you ought to do?"
+
+After a long hesitation, during which Frederick, surprised at these
+mysterious words, looked alternately at the doctor and David, the latter
+replied, in a firm voice, as he extended his hand to his friend.
+
+"Pierre, you have my word."
+
+"That is well," said the physician with deep emotion, as he pressed
+David's hand.
+
+Then he added:
+
+"I have only fulfilled one half of my task."
+
+"What do you mean, Pierre?" cried David, as he saw the physician
+directing his steps to Marie's chamber, "what are you going to do?"
+
+"My duty," replied the doctor.
+
+And, leaving David and Frederick in the library, he entered Madame
+Bastien's chamber.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+When Doctor Dufour entered Madame Bastien's room, he found her in bed,
+and Marguerite seated by her pillow.
+
+Marie, whose beauty was so radiant the evening before, was pale and
+exhausted; a burning fever coloured her cheeks and made her large blue
+eyes glitter under her heavy, half-closed eyelids; from time to time, a
+sharp, dry cough racked her bosom, upon which the sick woman frequently
+pressed her hand, as if to suppress a keen, agonising pain.
+
+At the sight of the doctor, Madame Bastien said to her servant:
+
+"Leave us, Marguerite."
+
+"Well, how are you?" said the doctor, when they were left alone.
+
+"This cough pains me and tears my chest, my good doctor; my sleep has
+been disturbed by dreadful dreams, the effect of the fever, no doubt,
+but, we will not speak of that," added Marie with an accent of angelic
+resignation. "I wish to consult you upon important matters, good doctor,
+and I must hurry, for, two or three times since I awoke, I have felt my
+thoughts slipping away from me."
+
+"Do not distress yourself about that, for it belongs to the weak state
+which almost always follows the excitement of fever."
+
+"I wished to speak to you first, to you alone, before asking M. David
+and my son to come in, as we will have all three to confer together
+afterward."
+
+"I am listening to you, madame."
+
+"You know my husband came home yesterday evening."
+
+"I know it," said the doctor, unable to restrain a shudder of
+indignation.
+
+"I had a long and painful discussion with him on the subject of my son.
+In spite of my claims and my prayer, M. Bastien is resolved to enter
+Frederick with M. Bridou as a bailiff's clerk. That would make it
+necessary for me to thank M. David for his care, and separate myself
+from my son."
+
+"And you cannot consent to that?"
+
+"So long as there is a spark of life left in me, I will defend my right
+to my child. As to him, you know the firmness of his character. Never
+will he be willing to leave me or forsake M. David and enter the house
+of M. Bridou. M. Bastien will soon return, and he is going to claim the
+right to take away my son."
+
+Marie, overcome by the emotion she was trying to combat, was obliged to
+pause a moment, and was attacked by such a dangerous fit of coughing,
+united to such a painful oppression in the chest, that the doctor
+involuntarily raised his eyes to Heaven with grief. After taking a drink
+prepared by the doctor, Marie continued:
+
+"Such is our position, my dear doctor, and before the return of M.
+Bastien, we must resolve upon something decisive, or--" and Marie became
+deathly pale--"or something terrible will happen here, for you know how
+violent M. Bastien is, and how resolute Frederick is; and as to me, I
+feel that, sick as I am, to take away my son is to strike me with
+death."
+
+"Madame, the moments are precious; permit me first to appeal to your
+sincerity and frankness."
+
+"Speak."
+
+"Yesterday evening, at the conclusion of the discussion which you had
+with your husband, a most atrocious thing occurred, and that night--"
+
+"Monsieur."
+
+"I know all, madame."
+
+"Once more, doctor--"
+
+"I know all, I tell you, and, with your habitual courage, you did, I am
+certain of it, submit to this abominable treatment, in order not to make
+public this outrageous deed, and to avoid a collision between your son
+and your husband. Oh, do not try to deny it; your safety and the safety
+of your son depend upon the sincerity of your confession."
+
+"My safety! my son's safety!"
+
+"Come, madame, do you think the law has no redress for such atrocities
+as those your husband has been guilty of toward you? No, no! and there
+are witnesses of his unreasonable brutality. And these witnesses,
+Marguerite and myself, to whom you have applied for medical attention,
+as a consequence of the injuries you have sustained, we, I say, will
+authorise and justify your demand for separation. This demand must be
+formulated to-day."
+
+"A separation!" cried Marie, clasping her hands in a transport of joy,
+"will it be possible?"
+
+"Yes, and you will obtain it; trust yourself to me, madame. I will see
+your judges, I will establish your rights, your illness, your
+grievances; but before formulating this demand," added the doctor, with
+hesitation, for he appreciated the delicacy of the question raised, "it
+is essential for David to go away."
+
+At these words, Marie trembled with surprise and distress; with her eyes
+fixed on those of Doctor Dufour, she tried to divine his thought, unable
+to comprehend why he, David's best friend, should insist upon his going
+away.
+
+"Separate us from M. David," said she finally, "at the time my son has
+so much need of his care?"
+
+"Madame, believe me, the departure of David is essential. David himself
+realises it, because he has resolved to go."
+
+"M. David!"
+
+"I have his word."
+
+"It is impossible!"
+
+"I have his word, madame."
+
+"He! he! abandon us at such a time!"
+
+"In order to save you and your son."
+
+"In order to save us?"
+
+"His presence near you, madame, would compromise the success of your
+demand for a separation."
+
+"Why is that?"
+
+There was so much candour and sincerity in Marie's question, she
+revealed so thoroughly the innocence of her heart, that the doctor had
+not the heart to give a new pain to this angelic creature by telling her
+of the odious reports being circulated about herself and David, so he
+replied:
+
+"You cannot doubt, madame, the devotion and affection of David. He knows
+all that is to be regretted in his departure, all that is most painful
+to Frederick, but he knows also that his departure is absolutely
+necessary."
+
+"He, depart!"
+
+At the heartrending tone with which Marie uttered the two words, "He,
+depart," the doctor realised the depth of Marie's love for David for the
+first time, and as he thought of this deep and pure affection, the
+outcome of the noblest sentiments and the holiest feelings, his heart
+sank. He knew well Marie's virtue and David's delicacy, and hence he saw
+no end to this fatal passion.
+
+Marie, after weeping silently turned her pale, sad, and tear-stained
+face to the doctor, and said to him, sorrowfully:
+
+"M. David thinks it is best to go away, and my son and I will resign
+ourselves to it. Your friend has given too many proofs of his devotion
+to permit us to question his heart for a moment, but I must tell you his
+departure will be a terrible blow to my son."
+
+"But you will remain with him, madame, for I do not doubt that once your
+separation is obtained, you will be allowed to keep your son."
+
+"You hope then they will leave me my son?"
+
+"Without doubt."
+
+"How," replied Marie, clasping her hands and looking at the doctor with
+inexpressible anguish, "could there be a doubt that they will leave me
+my son?"
+
+"He is more than sixteen years old, and in a case of separation, the son
+follows the father; a daughter would be given to you."
+
+"But, then," replied Marie, all excited with fear, "what good is this
+separation, if I am not sure of keeping my son?"
+
+"First, to assure your peace, your life perhaps, because your husband--"
+
+"But my son, my son?"
+
+"We will do everything in the world to have him given to you."
+
+"And if they do not give him to me?"
+
+"Alas! madame."
+
+"Let us think no more of this separation, Doctor Dufour."
+
+"Think, then, madame, what it is to remain at the mercy of a wretch who
+will kill you some day."
+
+"But at least, before that happens, he will not have taken my son away
+from me."
+
+"He will take him away from you, madame. Did he not wish to do so
+yesterday?"
+
+"Oh, my God!" cried Marie, falling back on her pillow with such an
+expression of grief and despair that the doctor ran to her, exclaiming:
+
+"In the name of Heaven, what is the matter with you?"
+
+"Doctor Dufour," said Marie, in a feeble voice, closing her eyes and
+overcome by grief, "I am utterly exhausted. No matter which way I look
+at the future, it is horrible; what shall I do, my God! what shall I do?
+The hour approaches when my husband will return and take away my son
+with him. Oh, for my sake, put yourself between Frederick and his
+father! Oh, if you only knew what I dread, I--"
+
+And the words expired on her lips, for the unhappy woman again sank into
+unconsciousness.
+
+The doctor hastened to ring the bell violently, then he returned to the
+help of Madame Bastien.
+
+The servant not replying to the bell, the doctor opened the door and
+called:
+
+"Marguerite! Marguerite!"
+
+At the alarmed voice of the doctor, Frederick, who had remained in the
+library, rushed to his mother's chamber, followed by David, who,
+forgetting all propriety, and yielding to an irresistible impulse,
+wished to see the woman he was about to leave, for the last time.
+
+"Frederick, support your mother," cried Doctor Dufour, "and you, Henri,
+go quick for some cold water in the dining-room--somewhere. I do not
+know where Marguerite is."
+
+David ran to execute the doctor's orders, while Frederick, supporting
+his mother in his arms, for she was almost without consciousness, said
+to the doctor, in a broken voice:
+
+"Oh, my God! this fainting fit, how long it lasts! how pale she is!
+Help, help!"
+
+Marguerite suddenly appeared; her distorted features presented a
+singular expression of astonishment, terror, and satisfaction.
+
+"Doctor," cried she, almost breathless, "if you only knew!"
+
+"Pierre, here is what you asked me for," said David, running and giving
+him a bottle filled with fresh water, of which the doctor poured out
+several spoonfuls in a cup.
+
+Then addressing the servant in a low voice, he said:
+
+"Marguerite, give me that vial, there on the chimneypiece. But what is
+the matter with you?" added Doctor Dufour, as he saw the old servant
+standing still and trembling in every limb. "Speak, do speak!"
+
+"Ah! monsieur," replied the servant, in a whisper, "it is what takes my
+breath away. If you only knew!"
+
+"Well, finish, what is it?"
+
+"Master is dead!"
+
+At these words the doctor stepped back, forgot Marie, stood petrified,
+and looked at the servant, unable to utter a word.
+
+David experienced such a violent commotion of feeling that he was
+obliged to lean against the wainscoting.
+
+Frederick, holding his mother in his arms, turned abruptly toward
+Marguerite, murmuring:
+
+"Oh, my God! Dead--dead--my father!"
+
+And he hid his face in his mother's bosom.
+
+Marie, although in a swoon, caused by complete prostration of her
+strength, was sufficiently conscious to hear.
+
+Marguerite's words, "Master is dead," reached her ears, but dimly and
+vague as the thought of a dream.
+
+The doctor broke the solemn silence which had greeted the servant's
+words and said to her:
+
+"How do you know? Explain yourself."
+
+"This night," replied the servant, "master, about six miles from here,
+wanted to cross a ford on a route covered by the overflow. The horse and
+carriage were dragged into the water. They have not found the body of M.
+Bridou, but they recognised master's body by his goatskin cloak; it was
+ground under the wheels of the mill at the pond; they found half his
+coat in one of the wheels; one of the pockets contained several letters
+addressed to master. It is by that the mayor of Blémur, who is there
+with a gendarme, knew that it was master who was drowned, and he has
+drawn up the act of death."
+
+When the servant had finished her recital in the midst of a religious
+silence, Madame Bastien recalled to herself entirely by the profound and
+violent reaction produced by this unexpected news, clasped her son to
+her bosom passionately, and said:
+
+"We will never leave each other, never!"
+
+Marie was about to seek David's eyes, instinctively, but an exquisite
+delicacy forbade it; she turned her eyes away, her pallor was replaced
+by a faint colour, and she pressed her son in a new embrace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+
+About three weeks had elapsed since the death of M. Bastien had been
+announced.
+
+So many violent and contrary emotions had complicated Marie's disease,
+and rendered it still more dangerous. For two days her condition had
+been almost desperate, then by degrees it improved, thanks to the skill
+of Doctor Dufour and the ineffable hope from which the young woman drew
+enough force, enough desire to live, to combat death.
+
+At the end of a few days the convalescence of Marie began, and although
+this convalescence was necessarily tedious and demanded the most careful
+attention, for fear of a relapse more to be dreaded than the disease
+itself, all alarm had ceased.
+
+Is it necessary to say that since the announcement of the death of M.
+Bastien, David and Marie had not uttered one word which made allusion to
+their secret and assured hopes?
+
+These two pure souls had the exquisite bashfulness of happiness, and
+although the death of Jacques Bastien could not be regretted, David and
+Marie respected religiously his ashes, which were scarcely cold, however
+unworthy of respect the man had been.
+
+The illness of Madame Bastien, and the fears entertained so many days
+for her life, produced a sincere sorrow in the country, and her recovery
+a universal joy; these testimonials of touching sympathy, addressed as
+much to Frederick as to his mother, and the consciousness of a future
+which had, so to speak, no fault save that of being too bright,
+confirmed and hastened the convalescence of Marie, who, at the end of
+three weeks, felt only an excessive weakness which prevented her leaving
+her chamber.
+
+As soon as her condition was no longer critical, she desired Frederick
+to undertake the studies planned for him by David, and to receive a part
+of them in her apartment, and she experienced an indescribable delight
+in seeing, united under her eyes, those two beings so much loved, and
+from whom she had so dreaded to be separated. Her presence at these
+lessons gave her a thousand joys. First the tender, enlightened interest
+of David, then the indomitable enthusiasm of the young man, who longed
+for a glorious, illustrious destiny, that he might be the pride and joy
+of his mother, and satisfy his ambitious envy, whose purified flame
+burned within him more than ever.
+
+It had been decided by common consent that Frederick should first enter
+the Polytechnic School, and that from there, according to his
+inclination, he should follow one of those numerous careers opened to
+him by this encyclopaedical school,--war, the navy, art, letters, or
+science.
+
+These few words will give an insight, somewhat incomplete, into the
+ideal felicity in which these three tender and noble creatures lived
+from the moment that Marie's condition ceased to inspire fear; a
+felicity altogether new to all, since, even in the happy days which
+followed Frederick's recovery, the coming of M. Bastien, often
+forgotten, yet always imminent, would appear on their bright horizon
+like a threatening cloud.
+
+At this time, on the contrary, as far as the view of Marie and David and
+Frederick could extend, they beheld an azure sky of such serene
+splendour that its almost limitless magnificence sometimes dazzled them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three weeks had elapsed since the announcement of the death of M.
+Bastien.
+
+Two o'clock had just sounded, and Frederick, assisted by Marguerite and
+old André, was filling the vases on the chimneypiece in the library with
+snowdrops, pale Bengal roses, winter heliotropes, and holly branches,
+ornamented with their coral berries. In the middle of the mantel, a
+portrait of Frederick, an admirable likeness done in pastel by David,
+was placed on an easel; a bright fire burned in the chimney, and on a
+table were preparations for a simple and rustic collation.
+
+The three accomplices, as they were jestingly called, who presided at
+the preparations for this little festivity, or, in a word, this surprise
+party, were walking about on tiptoe and whispering, for fear Madame
+Bastien might suspect what was taking place. That day, for the first
+time since her illness, the young woman was to come out of her chamber
+and remain several hours in the library. Frederick also, and the two old
+servants, tried to give an air of mirth to this room, and David, without
+Marie's knowledge, was busy with Frederick's portrait, which she was to
+see that day for the first time.
+
+During the mysterious coming and going, Marie was alone in her chamber
+with David.
+
+The young woman clothed in mourning, half recumbent on a sick-chair,
+with silent happiness contemplated David, seated at a work-table and
+occupied in correcting one of Frederick's exercises.
+
+Suddenly David, pursuing his reading, said, in a low voice:
+
+"It is incomprehensible!"
+
+"What is incomprehensible, M. David?"
+
+"The really remarkable progress of this child, madame. We have been
+studying geometry only three weeks, and his aptitude for the exact
+sciences develops with the same rapidity as his other faculties."
+
+"If I must tell you, M. David, this aptitude in Frederick astonishes me;
+it seems to me that those studies which require imagination and
+sentiment are what he would prefer."
+
+"And that, madame, is what surprises and charms me. In this dear child
+everything obeys the same impulse, everything develops visibly, and
+nothing is injured. I read to you yesterday his last efforts, which were
+really eloquent, really beautiful."
+
+"The fact is, M. David, that there is a striking difference between this
+last production and the best things he wrote before this terrible
+malady, which, thanks to you will lead to Frederick's regeneration. All
+that I now dread for him is excess of work."
+
+"And for that reason, I moderate, as much as I can, his eagerness to
+learn, his impatient and jealous enthusiasm, his passionate longing for
+the future which he wishes to make illustrious and glorious, and that
+future will be his."
+
+"Ah, M. David, what joy, what transport for us, if our anticipations are
+realised!"
+
+It is impossible to reproduce the tenderness Marie expressed in those
+words, "we--our anticipations," which in themselves revealed the secret
+projects for happiness, tacitly formed by Marie and David.
+
+The latter continued:
+
+"Believe me, madame, we will see him great in heart and in intellect.
+There is in him an extraordinary energy, which has developed twofold
+through this dreaded envy which has so much alarmed us."
+
+"Indeed, on yesterday, M. David, he said to me, cheerfully:
+
+"'Mother, now when I see the castle of Pont Brillant rising in the
+distance,--that once made me so unhappy,--I throw upon it only a glance
+of friendly regard and defiance.'"
+
+"And you will see, madame, if, in eight or ten years, the name of
+Frederick Bastien will not resound more gloriously than that of the
+young marquis."
+
+"I have the pride to share your hope, M. David. Guided by us, I do not
+know to what height my son may not attain."
+
+"Then after a short silence Marie added:
+
+"But do you know it all seems like a dream? When I think that it is
+scarcely two months ago, the evening of your arrival, you were there at
+that table, looking over Frederick's exercises, and deploring, like me,
+the veil which lay over the mind of this unhappy child."
+
+"Do you recollect, madame, that gloomy, frozen silence, against which
+all our efforts proved unavailing?"
+
+"And that might when, crazy with terror, I ran up-stairs to you, to
+beseech you not to abandon my son, as if you could have abandoned him."
+
+"Say, madame, is there not a sort of charm in these painful memories,
+now that we are in perfect security and happiness?"
+
+"Yes, there is a sad charm in them, but how much I prefer certain hopes!
+So, M. David, I will tell you that I have made many plans to-night."
+
+"Let us hear them, madame."
+
+"There is one, very foolish,--really impossible."
+
+"So much the better, they are usually the most charming."
+
+"When our Frederick enters the Polytechnic School, we must be separated
+from him. Oh, make yourself easy, I will be brave, on one condition."
+
+"And what is that condition?"
+
+"You are going to laugh at it, because it is so childish, perhaps
+ridiculous. Ah, well, I wish we could dwell near him. And if I must
+confess all to you, my desire would be to take lodgings opposite the
+school, if that is possible. Now you are going to laugh at me."
+
+"I do not laugh at this idea at all, madame; I think it is an excellent
+one, because, thanks to this proximity, you will be able to see our dear
+boy twice a day, and, besides visits, there will be two long days when
+we will have him all to ourselves."
+
+"Really," answered Marie, smiling, "you do not think I am too fond a
+mother?"
+
+"My reply is very short, madame. As it is always necessary to provide
+for things in the distance, I am going to write to Paris to-day to a
+reliable person who will watch for a convenient lodging opposite the
+school and engage it for us."
+
+"How good you are!"
+
+"Very easy kindness, really, to share with you the joy of being near our
+dear boy."
+
+Marie remained silent a moment; then tears of gratitude filled her eyes
+and she said, with inexpressible emotion, as she turned toward David:
+
+"How sweet happiness is!"
+
+And her tearful eyes sought and met the eyes of David; for a long time
+they gazed at each other in silent, divine ecstasy. The door of the
+chamber opened and Marguerite said to the preceptor, with an air at the
+same time joyous and mysterious:
+
+"M. David, will you come, if you please?"
+
+"And my son," asked Marie, "where is he?"
+
+"M. Frederick is busy, madame, very busy," replied Marguerite,
+exchanging a glance of intelligence with the preceptor, who was going
+out of the door.
+
+"If madame will permit it," said Marguerite, "I will stay with her, in
+case she may need something."
+
+"Ah, Marguerite, Marguerite," said the young wife, smiling and shaking
+her head, "they are plotting something here."
+
+"Why do you think that, madame?"
+
+"Oh, I am very discerning! Since this morning, such goings and comings I
+have heard in the corridor, Frederick is absent during his study hour,
+and an unusual noise in the library; so you see--"
+
+"I can assure you, madame, that--"
+
+"Good! good! you are taking advantage of my condition," said Marie,
+smiling. "They all know that I cannot walk about and see myself what is
+happening out there."
+
+"Oh, madame, what do you think?"
+
+"Well, Marguerite, I think it is a surprise."
+
+"A surprise, madame?"
+
+"Come, my good Marguerite, tell me all about it, I beg you; then I shall
+be happier sooner, and so I shall be happier a longer time."
+
+"Madame," said Marguerite, heroically, "that would be treason."
+
+At that moment old André opened the door half-way, put his head in,
+looking very radiant and mysterious, and said to the servant:
+
+"Marguerite, they want to know where is the thing that--that--"
+
+"Ah, my God! he is going to say some foolishness; he never does anything
+else!" cried Marguerite, running to the door, where she conversed some
+moments with André in a low tone, after which she came back to her
+mistress, who said to her, smiling:
+
+"Come, Marguerite, since you are relentless, I am going to see for
+myself."
+
+"Madame, you think so? You are not able yet to walk after such an
+illness."
+
+"Do not scold me, I submit; I will not spoil the surprise, but how
+impatient I am to know!"
+
+The door of the library opened again.
+
+It was David, Frederick, and Doctor Dufour.
+
+Marguerite went away, after having whispered to Frederick:
+
+"M. Frederick, when you hear me cough behind the door, all will be
+ready."
+
+And the old servant went out.
+
+At the sight of the doctor, Madame Bastien said, cheerfully:
+
+"Oh, now that you are here, my good doctor, I do not doubt any longer
+that there is a conspiracy."
+
+"A conspiracy?" answered Doctor Dufour, affecting astonishment, while
+David and Frederick exchanged a smile.
+
+"Yes, yes," replied Marie. "A surprise they are preparing for me. But I
+warn you that surprises are very dangerous to poor invalids like me, and
+you had a great deal better tell me beforehand."
+
+"All that I can tell you, my dear impatient and beautiful invalid, is
+that we have agreed that to-day is the day when you must make an attempt
+to walk alone for the first time, and that it is my duty, yes, madame,
+my duty to assist this exertion of your powers."
+
+Scarcely had the doctor uttered these words, when they heard Marguerite
+cough with great affectation behind the door.
+
+"Come, mother," said Frederick to his mother, tenderly, "have courage
+now, we are going to take a long walk in the house."
+
+"Oh, I feel so strong that you will be astonished," replied Marie,
+smiling and trying to rise from her sick-chair, and succeeding with
+great difficulty, for she was very weak.
+
+It was a beautiful and pathetic picture.
+
+Marie, having risen, advanced with an uncertain step, David at her
+right, the doctor at her left, ready to sustain her if she fainted,
+while Frederick, in front of her, was slowly walking backward, holding
+out his arms, as one does to a child that is attempting his first steps.
+
+"You see how strong I am!" said the young woman, stepping slowly toward
+her son, who smiled upon her with tenderness. "Where are you going to
+take me?"
+
+"You are going to see, mother."
+
+Frederick had scarcely uttered these words, when a fearful, terrible
+shriek sounded from behind the door.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE SAW HER HUSBAND."]
+
+It was Marguerite. Then the door opened suddenly, and a bantering,
+ringing voice said at the same time:
+
+"Make a note of it! The big old fellow is living yet!"
+
+Marie, who was opposite the door, uttered a terror-stricken cry and fell
+backward.
+
+She saw her husband Jacques Bastien.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+
+It will be remembered, perhaps, that at the moment of departure for
+Blémur, Bridou put on Jacques Bastien's greatcoat, made of goatskin.
+Bastien, half drunk, had, in spite of old André's advice to the
+contrary, persisted in fording a place inundated by the pond as well as
+by the waters of the Loire; the horse lost his footing, and the carriage
+was dragged down the current. Bridou succeeded in getting out of the
+carriage, but was swept by the torrent under the wheels of the mill and
+crushed to death. A part of the goatskin coat was caught in one of the
+wheels. In the pocket of the garment were found several letters
+addressed to M. Bastien. Hence the fatal error. It was supposed that M.
+Bastien had been crushed under the wheels, and that the body of the
+bailiff had disappeared under the water.
+
+Jacques Bastien, incommoded by his great corpulence, had not, in spite
+of his efforts, succeeded in getting out of the carriage; this
+circumstance saved him. The horse, after having been dragged some
+distance with the drift, regained his footing, but soon, exhausted by
+fatigue, and attempting to ascend a very steep hill, he tumbled down.
+Jacques, thrown forward, received a deep wound in the head, and lay
+insensible for some time, when, at the break of day, some labourers
+going to the fields found him, picked him up and carried him to an
+isolated farm quite distant from the scene of the disaster.
+
+Jacques remained a long time in this farmhouse, seriously ill from the
+results of his wound, and a dangerous attack produced by fright and
+prolonged immersion in the ice-cold water. When he was in a condition
+to write to his wife, he intentionally neglected to do so, promising
+himself--as no doubt rumours of his death were current--to make his
+resurrection a stupid and brutal joke, for he well understood with what
+sentiments his household would receive the news of his tragic end.
+
+In his project, Jacques, as we have seen, did not fail.
+
+When, however, he saw his wife fall, overwhelmed at the sight of him, he
+thought he had killed her, and fled from his house in a terror which
+partook of the nature of frenzy.
+
+Marie was not the only one overcome by this terrible blow.
+
+Frederick was not less shocked by the sudden appearance of Bastien, and,
+seeing his mother fall dead as it were on the floor, fell fainting in
+the arms of Doctor Dufour.
+
+The poor boy was not borne to his own chamber, but to the library, and a
+bed was there prepared for him, as Doctor Dufour feared, with reason,
+that the removal of Frederick to his own chamber, which opened into his
+mother's, might be followed by consequences disastrous to both.
+
+The doctor could not give his attention to both at the same time, and
+occupied himself first with Marie, who, scarcely convalescent from her
+previous illness, was alas! struck with a mortal blow.
+
+When Doctor Dufour returned to Frederick he found him prostrated by
+cerebral congestion, and soon his condition was desperate.
+
+When Marie regained consciousness she realised that her end was
+approaching, and asked to see her son immediately.
+
+The embarrassment of Marguerite, her pallor and tears, her look of
+despair, and the excuses and evasions she made to explain the absence of
+Frederick in that solemn moment were a revelation to the young mother.
+
+She felt, so to speak, that, like herself, her son was about to die;
+then she asked to see David.
+
+Marguerite ushered the preceptor into the room and left him alone with
+Madame Bastien, whose angelic features already bore the impress of
+death. With her cold white hand she made a sign to David to sit down at
+her bedside and said to him:
+
+"How is my son?"
+
+"Madame--"
+
+"He is not in his chamber; they are hiding him from me."
+
+"Do not think--"
+
+"I understand all; he is in a desperate state I know, but as my end is
+near, too, I wish to say farewell to him, Henri."
+
+For the first and the last time, alas! Marie called David by his
+baptismal name.
+
+"Farewell!" repeated he, with a heartrending sob "you wish to say
+farewell!"
+
+"But I cannot die without telling you how much I have loved you. You
+knew it, did you not, my friend?"
+
+"And you say that you are going to die! No, no! Marie, the power of my
+love will give new life to you!" cried David, under a sort of aberration
+of mind. "Die! Oh, why will you die? We love each other so much."
+
+"Yes, our love is great, my friend, and for me it began from the day you
+restored the life of my son's soul."
+
+"Oh, woe! woe!"
+
+"No, Henri, my death is not a woe for us. It seems to me, you
+understand, that, in the moment of leaving this life, my soul, freed
+from terrestrial ties, can read the future. Henri, do you know what
+would have been our fate?"
+
+"You ask me to tell you that, when this morning our plans were so--"
+
+"Listen to me, my friend; there are profound mysteries of maternal love
+which, perhaps, are never unveiled but in supreme moments. As long as I
+felt myself free, the future appeared radiant to me, as it did to you,
+Henri, and perhaps for a few months, you and my son and myself would
+have mingled our lives in the same bliss."
+
+"Oh, that dream! that dream!"
+
+"The dream was beautiful, Henri; perhaps the awakening would have been
+cruel."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You know how much my son loves me. You know that all passionate
+affection has its jealousy; sooner or later, he would have been jealous
+of my love for you, Henri."
+
+"He, he jealous of me?"
+
+"You can believe a mother's heart; I am not mistaken."
+
+"Alas, you only wish to make my sorrow less grievous; brave and generous
+to the last!"
+
+"Say I am a mother to the last. Listen to me still, Henri. In uniting
+myself to you, I would have lost my name, that humble name that my son
+wanted above everything to make illustrious, because that name was mine,
+because everything in the poor child had reference to me."
+
+"Oh, yes, you were in all his thoughts; when he thought he was dying, he
+cried, 'My mother!' and his first cry, as he began his march to a
+glorious destiny, was still, 'My mother!'"
+
+"My friend, let us not deceive ourselves. What would have been our
+grief, if, just when we were about to be united, the fear of arousing my
+son's jealousy, perhaps would have stopped me? And however painful to
+have renounced our love, think how much more horrible it would have been
+to see, perhaps, the development of Frederick's jealousy after our
+union. What could we have done then? What would have become of us?"
+
+"No, no, Marie, do not believe that. Frederick loves me, too, and he
+would have sacrificed himself to your happiness and mine."
+
+"Sacrificed? Yes, my friend, he would have sacrificed himself. Oh, I
+know it, not a word, not a complaint would have passed his lips. Always
+loving, always tender, he would have smiled on us sadly, and then by
+degrees, we would have seen him at last wasting away."
+
+"Oh, my God, that is dreadful! Woe to me!" murmured David, with bitter
+lamentation. "Woe to me!"
+
+"Joy to you, Henri, because you have been the most generous of men,"
+cried Marie, with an exaltation which imparted a superhuman expression
+to her dying features, "Joy to you, Henri, for you have been loved, oh,
+passionately loved, without costing a tear or one moment of shame to the
+loyal heart which adores you. Yes, Henri, I have loved you without
+hesitation, without resistance. I have loved you with pride, with
+serenity, because my love for you, Henri, had all the sacred sweetness
+of duty. Courage, then, my friend, let the memory of Marie and Frederick
+Bastien sustain you and console you."
+
+"What do you mean? Frederick! Oh, he at least will remain to me!"
+
+"My son will not survive me."
+
+"Frederick?"
+
+"I feel it here, yes, Henri, here in my heart; I tell you he will die."
+
+"But, a little while ago, Pierre came out of the chamber where your son
+is lying, and told me he had not given up all hope. No, no, for him to
+die, too, would be more than I could bear."
+
+"Why do you say that, Henri?"
+
+"Great God! you--you, his mother, ask that question!"
+
+"I told you, my friend, there are profound mysteries in maternal love. I
+think it would be a dreadful evil to survive my son, and Frederick
+thinks as I do; he loves me as much as I love him, and he does not
+desire to survive me."
+
+"Oh, what misery for me to lose you both!"
+
+"Marie and Frederick cannot be separated; neither in this world nor in
+the other, my friend."
+
+"Ah, you and he are happy!"
+
+"Henri, my strength is gone, the chill of death is on me. Give me your
+hand, your dear and faithful hand."
+
+David threw himself on his knees at the bedside of the young woman,
+covering her hand with tears and kisses; he burst into sobs.
+
+Marie continued talking, her voice growing more and more feeble.
+
+"One last request, Henri; you will grant it, if it is possible. M.
+Bastien has spoken to me of his desire to sell this house; I would not
+like to have strangers profane this home, where my life has been passed,
+as well as the life of my son; for my life dates from the day I became a
+mother. Doctor Dufour, your best friend, dwells near here, you would
+like to live near him some day. Hasten that day, Henri; you will find
+great consolation in a heart like his."
+
+"Oh, Marie, this house will be the object of a religious care--but--"
+
+"Thank you, Henri, oh, thank you, that thought consoles me. A last
+prayer: I do not wish to be separated from my son; you understand me, do
+you not?"
+
+Scarcely had Marie uttered these words when a great noise was heard in
+the corridor.
+
+Marguerite in terror called the doctor.
+
+Suddenly Madame Bastien's door was thrown open violently. Frederick
+entered, livid as a corpse, dragging after him a piece of the bed linen,
+like a winding-sheet, while Marguerite was trying in vain to hold him
+back.
+
+A last ray of intelligence, the filial instinct perhaps, led this child
+to die near his mother.
+
+David, who was kneeling at the bedside of the young woman, rose,
+bewildered, as if he had seen a spectre.
+
+"Mother! mother!" cried Frederick, in an agonising voice, throwing
+himself on Marie's bed, and enfolding her in his arms, as the doctor ran
+to them in dismay.
+
+"Oh, come, my child, come!" murmured Marie, embracing her son in a last
+embrace with convulsive joy, "now it is for ever!"
+
+These were the last words of the young mother.
+
+Frederick and Marie breathed out their souls in a supreme embrace.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+We began this story supposing a tourist, going from the city of Pont
+Brillant to the castle of the same name, would pass the humble home of
+Marie Bastien.
+
+We finish this story with a like supposition.
+
+If this tourist had travelled from Pont Brillant to the castle eighteen
+months after the death of Frederick and Marie, he would have found
+nothing changed in the farm.
+
+The same elegant simplicity reigned in this humble abode; the same wild
+flowers were carefully tended by old André; the same century-old grove
+shaded the verdant lawn through which the limpid brook wound its way.
+
+But the tourist would not have seen without emotion, under the shade of
+the grove, and not far from the little murmuring cascade, a tombstone of
+white marble on which he could read the words: "Marie and Frederick
+Bastien."
+
+Before this tomb, which was sheltered by a rustic porch, already covered
+with ivy and climbing flowers, was placed the little boat presented to
+Frederick at the time of the overflow, on which could be read the
+inscription: "The poor people of the valley to Frederick Bastien."
+
+If the tourist had chanced to pass this grove at sunrise or at sunset,
+he would have seen a man tall of stature and clad in mourning, with hair
+as white as snow, although his face was young, approaching this tomb in
+religious meditation.
+
+This man was David.
+
+He had not failed in the mission entrusted to him by Marie.
+
+Nothing was changed without or within the house. The chamber of the
+young mother, that of Frederick, and the library, filled with the
+uncompleted tasks left by the son of Madame Bastien, all remained as on
+the day of the death of the mother and child.
+
+The chamber of Jacques Bastien was walled up.
+
+David continued to inhabit the garret chamber which he occupied as
+preceptor. Marguerite was his only servant.
+
+Doctor Dufour came every day to see David, near whom he wished to
+establish himself, when he could trust his patronage to a young
+physician newly arrived in Pont Brillant.
+
+As a memorial to his young brother and to Frederick, David--that his
+grief might not be barren of result--transformed one of the barns on the
+farm into a schoolroom, and there, every day, he instructed the children
+of the neighbouring farmers. In order to assure the benefit of his
+instruction, the preceptor gave a small indemnity to the parents of the
+pupils, inasmuch as the children forced by the poverty of their families
+to go out to work could not avail themselves of public education.
+
+We will suppose that our tourist, after having paused before the modest
+tomb of Marie and Frederick, would meet some inhabitant of the valley.
+
+"My good man," the tourist might have said to him, "pray, whose is that
+tomb down there under those old oaks?"
+
+"It is the tomb of the good saint of our country, monsieur."
+
+"What is his name?"
+
+"Frederick Bastien, monsieur, and his good angel of a mother is buried
+with him."
+
+"You are weeping, my good man."
+
+"Yes, monsieur, as all weep who knew that angel mother and her son."
+
+"They were, then, much loved by the people of the country?"
+
+"Wait, monsieur; do you see that tall fine castle down there?"
+
+"The Castle of Pont Brillant?"
+
+"The young marquis and his grandmother are richer than the king. Good
+year or bad year, they give a great deal of money to the poor, and yet,
+if the name of the young marquis is mentioned among the good people of
+the valley once, the names of Frederick Bastien and his mother are
+mentioned a hundred times."
+
+"And why is that?"
+
+"Because, instead of money, which they did not have, the mother gave the
+poor her kind heart, and the half of her bread, and the son, when it was
+necessary, his life to save the life of others, as I and mine can
+testify, without counting other families whom he rescued at the risk of
+his own life at the great overflow two years ago. So, you see, monsieur,
+the name of the good saint of the country will endure longer in the
+valley than the grand Castle of Pont Brillant. Castles crumble to the
+ground, while our children's children will learn from their fathers the
+name of Frederick Bastien."
+
+
+
+
+INDOLENCE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A CHARMING IDLER.
+
+
+Should there be any artist who desires to depict _dolce far niente_ in
+its most attractive guise, we think we might offer him as a model,--
+
+Florence de Luceval, six months married, but not quite seventeen, a
+blonde with a skin of dazzling whiteness, cheeks rivalling the wild rose
+in hue, and a wealth of golden hair. Though tall and beautifully formed,
+the young lady is a trifle stout, but the slight superabundance of flesh
+is so admirably distributed that it only adds to her attractiveness.
+Enveloped in a soft mull peignoir, profusely trimmed with lace, her
+attitude is careless but graceful in the extreme, as, half reclining in
+a luxurious armchair, with her head a little to one side, and her dainty
+slippered feet crossed upon a big velvet cushion, she toys with a
+magnificent rose that is lying on her lap.
+
+Thus luxuriously established before an open window that overlooks a
+beautiful garden, she gazes out through her half closed eyelids upon the
+charming play of light and shade produced by the golden sunbeams as they
+pierce the dense shrubbery that borders the walk. At the farther end of
+this shady path is a fountain where the water in one marble shell
+overflows into the larger one below; and the faint murmur of the
+distant fountain, the twittering of the birds, the soft humidity of the
+atmosphere, the clearness of the sky, and the balmy fragrance from
+several beds of heliotrope and huge clumps of Japanese honeysuckle seem
+to have plunged the fair young creature into a sort of ecstatic trance,
+in which body and mind are alike held captive by the same delightful
+lethargy.
+
+While this incorrigible idler is thus yielding to the charm of her
+habitual indolence, an entirely different scene is going on in an
+adjoining room.
+
+M. Alexandre de Luceval had just entered his wife's bedchamber. He was a
+young man about twenty-five years of age, and dark complexioned. Quick,
+nervous, and lithe in his movements, the natural petulance of his
+disposition manifested itself in his every gesture. He belonged, in
+fact, to that class of individuals who are blessed, or afflicted, with a
+desire to be always on the go, and who are utterly unable to remain for
+more than a minute in one place, or without busying themselves about
+something or other. In short, he was a man who seemed to be not only in
+a dozen places at once, but to be engaged in solving two problems at the
+same time,--that of perpetual motion and ubiquity.
+
+It was now two o'clock in the afternoon, and M. de Luceval, who had
+risen with the sun,--he never slept more than four or five hours,--had
+already traversed half of Paris, either on foot or on horseback. When he
+entered his wife's bedchamber, one of her women happened to be there,
+and her employer, in the quick, curt way which was habitual to him,
+exclaimed:
+
+"Well, has madame returned? Is she dressed? Is she ready?"
+
+"Madame la marquise has not been out this morning, monsieur," replied
+Mlle. Lise, the maid.
+
+"What! Madame did not go out at eleven o'clock, as she intended?"
+
+"No, monsieur, madame did not rise until half-past twelve."
+
+"Another ride postponed!" muttered M. de Luceval, stamping his foot
+impatiently.
+
+"But madame is dressed now, of course?" he said aloud.
+
+"Oh, no, monsieur; madame is still in her dressing-gown. Madame told me
+she had no intention of going out to-day."
+
+"Where is she?" demanded M. de Luceval, with another impatient stamp of
+the foot; "where is she?"
+
+"In her boudoir, monsieur."
+
+A few seconds afterwards M. de Luceval burst noisily into the room where
+his pretty wife lay stretched out in her armchair, too comfortable to
+even turn her head to see who the intruder was.
+
+"Really, Florence, this is intolerable!" exclaimed M. de Luceval.
+
+"What, my dear?" the lady asked, languidly, without moving, and with her
+eyes still fixed on the garden.
+
+"You ask me that, when you know that we were to go out together at two
+o'clock!"
+
+"It is entirely too hot."
+
+"But the carriage is ready."
+
+"They can take the horses out, then, I wouldn't move for a kingdom."
+
+"But you will have to. You know perfectly well that it is absolutely
+necessary we should go out together to-day, particularly as you did not
+go out earlier, as you ought to have done."
+
+"I really hadn't the courage to get up."
+
+"You will at least have to summon up courage to dress yourself, and at
+once."
+
+"Don't insist, my dear. It is not of the slightest use."
+
+"You must be jesting."
+
+"Nothing of the sort."
+
+"But the purchases we have to make cannot be put off any longer. My
+niece's _corbeille_ must be completed. It would have been a week ago,
+but for your indolence."
+
+"You have excellent taste, my dear, attend to the _corbeille_ yourself.
+The mere thought of rushing about from shop to shop, and going up and
+down stairs, and standing on one's feet for hours at a time, is really
+too appalling."
+
+"Nonsense, madame! Such indolence in a girl of seventeen is monstrous,
+disgraceful! It positively amounts to a disease with you. I shall
+consult Doctor Gasterini about it to-morrow."
+
+"An excellent idea!" said Florence, really arousing herself enough to
+laugh this time. "The dear doctor is so witty it is sure to be a very
+amusing consultation."
+
+"I am in earnest, madame. Something must be done to cure you of this
+apathy."
+
+"I sincerely hope it will prove incurable. You have no idea how much I
+was enjoying myself before you came in, lying here with half closed
+eyes, listening to the fountain, and not even taking the trouble to
+think."
+
+"You dare to admit that?"
+
+"And why not, pray?"
+
+"I don't believe there is another person in the world who can compare
+with you so far as indolence is concerned."
+
+"You forget your cousin Michel, who, judging from what you say,
+certainly rivals me in this respect. Possibly it is on this account that
+he has never taken the trouble to come and see you since your marriage."
+
+"You two are certainly very much alike. I really believe you are more
+indolent than he is, though. But come, Florence, don't let us have any
+more nonsense. Dress at once, and let us be off, I beg of you."
+
+"And I, in turn, beg that you will attend to this shopping yourself, my
+dear Alexandre. If you will, I'll promise to drive with you in the Bois
+this evening. We won't go until after dark, so I shall only have to put
+on a hat and mantle."
+
+"But this is the day of Madame de Mirecourt's reception. She has called
+on you twice, and you have never set foot in her house, so you really
+must do me the favour to go there this evening."
+
+"Make an evening toilet? Oh, no, indeed. It is entirely too much
+trouble."
+
+"That is not the question. One must fulfil one's duties to society, so
+you will accompany me to Madame de Mirecourt's this evening."
+
+"Society can do without me just as well as I can do without society.
+Society bores me. I shall not go to Madame de Mirecourt's."
+
+"Yes, you will."
+
+"When I say no, I mean no."
+
+"Zounds, madame--"
+
+"My dear, as I have told you very often, I married so I might get out of
+the convent, so I might lie in bed as late as I chose in the morning, so
+I might get rid of lessons, and so I might do nothing as long and as
+much as I pleased,--so I might be my own mistress, in short."
+
+"You are talking and reasoning like a child,--and like an utterly
+spoiled child."
+
+"That doesn't matter."
+
+"Ah, your guardian warned me! Why did I not believe him? I had no idea
+that such a person as you could exist. I said to myself, 'This indolence
+on the part of a girl of seventeen is nothing but the ennui caused by
+the monotony of convent life. When she marries, the duties and pleasures
+of society, the care of her house, and improving travel will cure her of
+her indolence, and--'"
+
+"Then that is the reason, I suppose, that you had the barbarity to
+propose a long journey to me only a day or two after our marriage,"
+interrupted Madame de Luceval, in reproachful tones.
+
+"But, madame, travelling--"
+
+"Don't! The slightest allusion to it positively makes me shudder. A
+journey is the most fatiguing and disagreeable thing in the world. Think
+of nights spent in diligences or in horrid inns, and long walks and
+drives to see the pretended beauties or wonders of a country. I have
+asked you before, monsieur, not to even mention the subject of
+travelling to me. I have perfect horror of it."
+
+"Ah, madame, had I foreseen this--"
+
+"I understand; I should not have had the happiness of being Madame de
+Luceval."
+
+"Say, rather, that I should not have had the misfortune to be your
+husband."
+
+"A gallant speech after six months of married life, truly."
+
+"But you exasperate me beyond endurance, madame. I am the most unhappy
+man alive. I can stand it no longer. I must say what I have to say."
+
+"Do, by all means. But pray don't make such a fuss about it. I abhor a
+noise."
+
+"Very well, then, madame. I tell you very plainly, though very quietly,
+that it is a woman's duty to attend to the affairs of her household, and
+you do not pay the slightest attention to yours. If it were not for me,
+I don't know what would become of the house."
+
+"That is the steward's business, it seems to me. But you have energy
+enough for two, and you've got to expend it upon something."
+
+"I tell you, again, madame, very quietly, understand, that I anticipated
+a very different and very delightful life. I had deferred exploring
+several of the most interesting countries until after my marriage,
+saying to myself, 'Instead of exploring them alone, I shall then have a
+charming and congenial companion; fatigue, adventures, even
+dangers,--we will share them all courageously together.'"
+
+"Great Heavens!" murmured Florence, lifting her beautiful eyes
+heavenward, "he admits such an atrocious thing as that."
+
+"'What happiness it will be,' I said to myself," continued M. de
+Luceval, quite carried away by the bitterness of his regret,--"'what
+happiness it will be to visit such extremely interesting countries as
+Egypt--'"
+
+"Egypt!"
+
+"Turkey--"
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_ Turkey!"
+
+"And if you had been the woman I so fondly dreamed, we might even have
+pushed on to the Caucasus."
+
+"The Caucasus!" exclaimed Florence, straightening herself up in her
+chair this time. "Is it possible you thought of such a thing as visiting
+the Caucasus?" she added, clasping her pretty hands in undisguised
+horror.
+
+"But, madame, Lady Stanhope, and the Duchesse de Plaisance, and many
+others, have made similar journeys."
+
+"The Caucasus! So that was what you reserved for me! That was what you
+were infamously plotting, when I so trustingly gave you my hand in the
+Chapel of the Assumption. Ah, I understand the cruel selfishness of your
+character now."
+
+And sinking back in her armchair again, she repeated, in the same
+horrified tones:
+
+"The Caucasus! Think of it, the Caucasus!"
+
+"Oh, I know very well now that you are one of those women who are
+incapable of making the slightest concession to their husband's wishes,"
+retorted M. de Luceval, bitterly.
+
+"The slightest concession! Why don't you propose a voyage of discovery
+to Timbuctoo, or the North Pole, and be done with it?"
+
+"Madame Biard, the brave-hearted wife of an eminent painter, had the
+courage to accompany her husband to the polar seas without a murmur;
+yes, even gladly, madame," answered M. de Luceval,--"to polar seas, do
+you hear, madame?"
+
+"I hear only too well, monsieur. You are either the most wicked or the
+most insane of men!"
+
+"Really, madame--"
+
+"And what and who, in Heaven's name, is keeping you, monsieur? If you
+have a passion--a mania, I call it--for travelling, if repose is so
+irksome to you, why don't you travel? Go to the Caucasus! Go to the
+North Pole, if you like, start at once, make haste about it. We shall
+both be the gainers by it. I shall no longer distress you by the sight
+of my atrocious indolence, and you will cease to irritate my nerves by
+the restlessness that prevents you from remaining for a moment in one
+place or allowing others to do so. Twenty times a day you rush into my
+room merely for the sake of coming and going; or, even worse, marvellous
+as it may appear, you come and wake me at five o'clock in the morning to
+propose a horseback ride, or to take me to the natatorium. You have even
+gone so far as to insist upon my practising gymnastics a little.
+Gymnastics! Who but you would ever think of such a thing? So, monsieur,
+I repeat that your absurd ideas, your constant coming and going, the
+sort of perpetual motion you keep up, the spirit of unrest that seems to
+possess you, causes me quite as much annoyance as my indolence can
+possibly cause you. Consequently you need not suppose for one moment
+that you alone have cause to complain, and as we have both made up our
+minds to say our say to each other, I declare in my turn, monsieur, that
+such a life as this is intolerable to me, and, unless there is a change
+for the better, I do not intend to put up with it much longer."
+
+"What do you mean by that, madame?"
+
+"I mean that it would be very foolish for us to go on interfering with
+and annoying each other. You have your tastes, I have mine; you have
+your fortune, I have mine; then let us live as seems good to us, and,
+for Heaven's sake, let us, above all, live in quiet."
+
+"I admire your assurance, really, madame. It is something marvellous! Do
+you suppose I married to lead a life that was not to my liking?"
+
+"Oh, _mon Dieu_! live as you please, monsieur, but let me live as I
+please, as well."
+
+"It pleases me, madame, to live with you. It was for that I married you,
+I think; so it is for you to accept my sort of life. Yes, madame, I have
+the right to expect it, ay, to demand it; and you may rest assured that
+I shall have the energy to enforce my demands."
+
+"What you say is perfectly ridiculous, M. de Luceval."
+
+"Ah, you think so, do you?" retorted the husband, with a sardonic smile.
+
+"Yes, ridiculous in the highest degree."
+
+"Then the Civil Code is ridiculous in the highest degree, I suppose?"
+
+"Very possibly, monsieur, as you bring it into this discussion. I don't
+know enough about it to judge, however."
+
+"Then understand, once for all, madame, that the Civil Code expressly
+states that a woman is expected, obliged, compelled to follow her
+husband."
+
+"To the Caucasus?"
+
+"Wherever he may see fit to take her."
+
+"I am in no mood for jesting, monsieur. But for that, your
+interpretation of the Civil Code would amuse me immensely."
+
+"I, too, am in earnest, madame,--very much in earnest."
+
+"That is what makes the whole affair so irresistibly comical."
+
+"Take care, madame, do not drive me to desperation."
+
+"Oh, threaten me with the North Pole at once, and let that be the end of
+it."
+
+"I have no intention of resorting to threats, madame. I merely wish to
+impress upon your mind the fact that the time for weakness is past, so
+when it suits me to start on a journey,--and that moment is, perhaps,
+nearer than you think,--I shall notify you one week in advance, so you
+may have time to make all needful preparations; then, willing or not,
+when the post-horses come, you will enter the carriage."
+
+"If not, the magistrate, and a 'In the name of the law, follow your
+husband,' I suppose, monsieur."
+
+"Yes, madame. You may sneer as much as you please, but you will follow
+me at the law's bidding, for you must realise that some guaranties in
+relation to such a serious and sacred thing as marriage must and do
+exist. After all, a man's happiness and peace of mind must not be at the
+mercy of the slightest caprice of a spoiled child."
+
+"Caprice! that is ridiculous. I have a horror of travelling, the
+slightest fatigue is intolerable to me, and because you take it into
+your head to rival the Wandering Jew, I am to be compelled to follow
+you?"
+
+"Yes, madame; and I will prove to you that--"
+
+"M. de Luceval, I hate controversy. It is entirely too much trouble. So,
+to put an end to this discussion, I will merely say that I shall not
+accompany you on a single one of your journeys, even if it be merely
+from here to St. Cloud. You shall see if I do not keep my word."
+
+And Florence threw herself back in her armchair again, crossed her
+little feet, and closed her eyes, as if completely exhausted.
+
+"Madame," exclaimed M. de Luceval, "this is not to be borne. I will not
+permit this disdainful silence!"
+
+All her husband's efforts to extort a word from her proved futile,
+however, and despairing, at last, of overcoming his wife's obstinacy, he
+departed, in high dudgeon.
+
+M. de Luceval was perfectly sincere in saying what he did, for, being
+passionately fond of travel himself, he could not believe that his wife
+really loathed it, and he was the more incredulous on this point as,
+when he married Florence, he had persuaded himself that a child of
+sixteen, an orphan, who had spent her life in a convent, could not have
+much will of her own, and would be delighted to travel. In fact, he had
+felt certain that such a proposal would prove a delightful surprise to
+her.
+
+His notary had told him of an orphan girl of sixteen, with a lovely
+face, an exquisite figure, and a fortune of more than a million francs,
+which, invested in the business of her guardian, a famous banker,
+yielded a yearly income of eighty thousand francs. M. de Luceval gave
+sincere thanks to Heaven and his notary. He saw the young girl, thought
+her ravishingly beautiful, fell in love with her, married her, and, when
+the awakening came, he had the simplicity to marvel at the loss of his
+illusions, and the credulity to believe that right, persistency,
+threats, force, and the law would have some effect upon the will of a
+woman who entrenches herself in a passive resistance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A few minutes after M. de Luceval had taken his departure, Lise, the
+maid, entered the room with a rather frightened air, and said to her
+mistress:
+
+"A lady, who says her name is Madame d'Infreville, is down at the door,
+in a carriage."
+
+"Valentine!" exclaimed the young marquise, in accents of joyful
+surprise. "It is ages since I saw her. Ask her to come up at once."
+
+"But that is impossible, madame."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"The lady sent, through the concierge, for madame's maid. Some one told
+me and I went down at once. When I got there, the lady, who was
+frightfully pale, said to me: 'Mademoiselle, go to Madame de Luceval and
+ask her to have the goodness to come down here for a moment. I want to
+speak to her on a very important matter. Tell her that my name is Madame
+d'Infreville,--Valentine d'Infreville.'"
+
+Lise had scarcely uttered these words before a footman entered the room,
+after having knocked, and said to Florence:
+
+"Will madame la marquise see Madame d'Infreville?"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Florence, greatly surprised at this sudden change in
+her friend's resolution, "is Madame d'Infreville here?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Then show her in at once," said Madame de Luceval, rising to meet her
+friend, whom she embraced affectionately, and with whom she was a moment
+afterwards left alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+Valentine d'Infreville was three years older than Madame de Luceval, and
+a striking contrast to her in every way, though equally beautiful and
+attractive.
+
+Tall, lithe, and slender, without being thin, and a decided brunette in
+colouring,--she had beautiful eyes, full of fire, and black as her long,
+luxuriant hair, and rich scarlet lips, shaded by the slightest suspicion
+of down, while her thin nostrils, which quivered and dilated with the
+slightest emotion, the excessive mobility of her features, her animated
+gestures, and even the rather virile timbre of her contralto voice, all
+indicated that she was the possessor of an ardent and impassioned
+nature. She had first met Florence at the Convent of the Sacred Heart,
+where they had become very intimate. Valentine had left the convent to
+be married a year before her friend, and though she afterwards came to
+see Florence several times at the convent, for several months prior to
+her marriage with M. de Luceval, Florence, to her great surprise, had
+seen nothing of her friend, and since that time their intercourse had
+been confined to a correspondence which had been very irregular on the
+part of Madame d'Infreville, who was, she declared, absorbed with
+household cares; so the two friends had not seen each other for more
+than six months.
+
+Madame de Luceval, after having tenderly embraced her friend, noticed
+her unusual pallor as well as her extreme agitation, and asked,
+anxiously:
+
+"Valentine, what is the matter? My maid told me first that you wished to
+see me, but that you did not want to come in."
+
+"I seem to have lost my head completely, Florence. I am nearly mad, I
+believe."
+
+"You frighten me. Explain, for pity's sake!"
+
+"Florence, will you save me from a terrible misfortune?"
+
+"Speak, speak! Am I not your friend, though you have deserted me for the
+last six months?"
+
+"I did very wrong. I have been unkind and ungrateful, I know, and yet I
+appeal to you now."
+
+"It is the only way to gain my forgiveness."
+
+"Always the same generous Florence!"
+
+"But now tell me, quick, what can I do for you?"
+
+"Have you writing materials here?"
+
+"Over there on that table."
+
+"Then write what I dictate, I beg of you. It may save me."
+
+"This paper has my initials on it. Does that make any difference?"
+
+"On the contrary, it is all the better, as you are the person who is
+supposed to be writing to me."
+
+"Go on, then, Valentine. I am ready."
+
+So Madame d'Infreville dictated the following in a strangely altered
+voice, pausing now and then, so great was her emotion.
+
+     "'The recollection of the pleasant hours we spent together
+     yesterday is so delightful, my dear Valentine,--though I really can
+     not say that it was in any respect a more charming day than last
+     Wednesday,--that at the risk of seeming both selfish and
+     importunate, I am going to ask you to give me Sunday.'"
+
+     "Give me Sunday," repeated Florence, greatly surprised at this
+     beginning.
+
+     "'Our programme shall be the same,'" continued
+
+Madame d'Infreville. "Underline programme," she added, with a bitter
+smile, then resumed:
+
+     "'Our _programme_ shall be the same: breakfast at eleven, a stroll
+     in the garden, embroidery, music, and conversation until seven
+     o'clock, then dinner and afterwards a drive in the Bois de Boulogne
+     in an open carriage if the evening is fine, after which I shall
+     take you home at ten o'clock as I did yesterday.
+
+     "'Answer me yes or no, but let it be a yes, and you will make very
+     happy your devoted
+
+    "'FLORENCE.'"
+
+"Your devoted Florence," repeated Madame de Luceval; then, with a half
+smile, she added: "It is certainly cruel in you, Valentine, to dictate
+such a programme to excite my envy and regret; but the time for
+reproaches or explanations will come presently. I will have my revenge
+then. Is that all, my dear Valentine?"
+
+"Put my address on the note, seal it, and have it sent to my house at
+once."
+
+Madame de Luceval was about to ring when she paused as if a new thought
+had suddenly struck her, and she said to her friend, with some slight
+embarrassment:
+
+"Valentine, I do hope you will not take offence at what I am about to
+say to you."
+
+"Go on."
+
+"If I am not mistaken, the object of this letter is to make some one
+suppose that we have spent several days together recently."
+
+"Yes, yes, that is it exactly. Well, what of it?"
+
+"In that case, I think it advisable to tell you that my husband is
+unfortunately endowed with such a prodigious amount of energy and
+activity that, though he is almost always out of the house, he
+nevertheless finds a way to be almost always in my room; in fact, he
+rushes in and out about a dozen times a day, so if his testimony should
+be invoked, he would be sure to say that he had never seen you here."
+
+"I foresaw this difficulty, but of two dangers, one must choose the
+least. Send this letter without delay, I beg of you, by one of your
+servants; but no, he might talk. You had better entrust it to the post.
+It will arrive in time, even then."
+
+Madame de Luceval rang the bell.
+
+A footman answered the summons.
+
+His mistress was about to give him the letter, but she changed her mind
+and asked instead:
+
+"Is Baptiste here?"
+
+"Yes, madame la marquise."
+
+"Send him to me at once."
+
+"Why this servant instead of the other, Florence?" inquired Madame
+d'Infreville.
+
+"The other man knows how to read. He is rather inquisitive, too, and he
+might think it singular that I wrote to you while you were here. The man
+I sent for cannot read, and is very stupid besides, so there is very
+little danger to apprehend from him."
+
+"You are right, a thousand times right, Florence. In my excitement, I
+did not think of all this."
+
+"Did madame la marquise send for me?" inquired Baptiste, appearing in
+the doorway.
+
+"Do you know the flower girl that has a shop near the Chinese
+bath-house?" inquired Florence.
+
+"Yes, madame la marquise."
+
+"Go there at once, and buy me two large bunches of Parma violets."
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+The man turned to go.
+
+"Oh, I forgot," exclaimed Madame de Luceval, calling him back. "I want
+you to post this letter on your way."
+
+"Has madame any other commissions?"
+
+"No."
+
+So Baptiste departed.
+
+Madame d'Infreville understood and appreciated her friend's generosity
+in thus making herself an accessory to the deed.
+
+"Thank you, thank you, my dearest Florence," she exclaimed, gratefully.
+"Heaven grant that your kindness may not prove unavailing."
+
+"I hope it may not, indeed, but--"
+
+"Florence, listen to me. The only way I can prove my gratitude for the
+great service you have just rendered me is to place myself at your
+mercy,--in other words, to conceal nothing from you. I ought to have
+done that at first, and then explained the object of this letter,
+instead of exacting this proof of your devotion and friendship; but I
+admit that I was afraid you would refuse my request and blame me when
+you learned that--"
+
+Then, after a moment's hesitation, Valentine said, resolutely, though
+she blushed deeply up to her very eyes:
+
+"Florence, I have a lover."
+
+"I suspected as much, Valentine."
+
+"Do not condemn me without a hearing, I beseech you."
+
+"My poor Valentine, I remember only one thing,--the confidence you have
+shown in me."
+
+"Ah, but for my mother, I would not have stooped to this trickery and
+falsehood. I would have borne all the consequences of my wrong-doing,
+for I, at least, have the courage of my actions, but in my mother's
+present precarious condition of health, a scandal would kill her. Oh,
+Florence, though I am culpable, I am also very miserable," exclaimed
+Madame d'Infreville, bursting into tears, and throwing herself in her
+friend's arms.
+
+"Calm yourself, I beseech you, Valentine," said the young marquise,
+though she shared her companion's emotion. "Trust to my sincere
+affection, and open your heart to your friend. It will at least be some
+consolation to you."
+
+"My only hope is in your affection. Yes, Florence, I feel and know that
+you love me; that conviction alone gives me courage to make this painful
+confession. But, stay, there is another confession which I wish to have
+off my mind first. If I have come, after a long estrangement, to ask
+this great favour of you, it is not only because I counted blindly upon
+your friendship, but because, of all the women of my acquaintance, you
+are the only one my husband never visits. Now, listen to me: When I
+married M. d'Infreville, you were still in the convent. You were still a
+young girl, and my natural reserve prevented me from telling you many
+things,--among them, the fact that I married without love."
+
+"Like myself," murmured Florence.
+
+"The marriage pleased my mother, and assured me a large fortune,
+consequently I unfortunately yielded to my mother's persuasions all the
+more readily as I, too, was dazzled by the advantages of such a
+position; so I married M. d'Infreville, without realising, alas! what
+grievous obligations I was incurring, and at what a price I was selling
+my liberty. Though I have abundant cause to complain of my husband, my
+own wrong-doing prevents any recrimination on my part. Without trying to
+excuse my own weakness, I will endeavour to state the facts of the case,
+clearly and impartially. M. d'Infreville, though he should be in his
+prime, is a valetudinarian, because, in his youth, he plunged into all
+sorts of excesses. He is morose, because he regrets the past; imperious
+and stern, because he has no heart. In his eyes, I have never been
+anything but a penniless young girl, whom he condescended to marry in
+order to make a sort of nurse out of me, and for a long time I accepted
+this rôle, and performed the duties it involved religiously,--this rôle
+which was not only so trying but also so humiliating and disgraceful,
+because the attentions I paid my husband were not from the heart; and
+too late, alas! I realised how vile my conduct had been."
+
+"Valentine--"
+
+"No, Florence, no, the term is none too severe. I married M.
+d'Infreville without love. I married him because he was rich. I sold
+myself to him, body and soul, and such conduct is vile and disgraceful,
+I tell you."
+
+"You blame yourself too much, Valentine. You were not thinking as much
+about yourself as you were about your mother, I am sure."
+
+"And my mother was less solicitous about herself than about me. M.
+d'Infreville's wealth made filial deference on my part only too easy. At
+first, I was resigned to my fate, at least in a measure. After our
+marriage, my husband's health was so poor as to confine him to the house
+most of the time; but after a few months had elapsed, a marked change
+for the better became apparent in his condition, thanks to my nursing,
+perhaps; but from that time his habits, too, underwent an entire change.
+I saw him but seldom; he was scarcely ever at home, and I soon heard
+that he had a mistress."
+
+"Poor Valentine!"
+
+"A woman known to all Paris. My husband gave her a magnificent
+establishment, and made so little effort to conceal his relations with
+her that I learned all the particulars of the scandalous affair through
+public hearsay. I ventured to remonstrate with M. d'Infreville, not from
+any feeling of jealousy, Heaven knows! but I begged him, out of
+consideration for me, to have a little more regard for appearances. Even
+these very temperate reproaches irritated my husband, and he asked me,
+in the most insolent and disdainful manner, what right I had to meddle
+in this matter. He reminded me that I was indebted to him for a lot to
+which I could not otherwise have aspired, and that, as he had married me
+without a dowry, I had no right to make the slightest complaint."
+
+"Why, this conduct was shameful, infamous!"
+
+"'But, as you so flagrantly fail in your duty, monsieur, what would you
+say if I should forget mine?' I asked."
+
+"'There is no comparison to be made between you and me,' he replied. 'I
+am the master; it is your duty to obey. You owe everything to me; I owe
+you nothing. Fail in your duty, and I will turn you out into the
+street,--you and your mother, who lives upon my charity.'"
+
+"Such insolence and cruelty are inconceivable!"
+
+"A wise and commendable inspiration seized me. I went to my mother,
+resolved to separate from my husband, and never to return to his house.
+'But what will become of me?' said my mother. 'Sick and infirm as I am,
+poverty means death to me. Besides, my poor child, a separation is
+impossible. Your husband has a right to do this, so long as he does not
+bring this woman where you are; and as the law is on his side, and as he
+needs you, and is accustomed to your care and attentions when he is ill,
+he will not hear of a separation, and you will be obliged to remain with
+him. So make the best of it, my poor child. His infatuation for this
+creature will not last long. Sooner or later, your husband will return
+to you. Your patience and resignation will touch him; besides, he is in
+such poor health that this unfortunate affair is sure to be his last, so
+go on doing exactly as you have done in the past. In such cases, believe
+me, my child, a good woman suffers and waits and hopes.'"
+
+"What! your mother dared to--"
+
+"Do not censure her too severely, Florence. She has such a horror of
+poverty, quite as much on my account as on her own. Besides, does not
+her advice conform in every respect with reason, the law, and the
+opinion of the world in general?"
+
+"What you say is only too true, alas!"
+
+"Ah, well, so be it, I said to myself bitterly. All possibility of a
+self-respecting, rightful revolt against this disgraceful state of
+things being denied me, marriage becomes only a degrading servitude
+henceforth. I accept it. I shall experience all the degradation of a
+slave, but I will also practise a slave's perfidy and trickery. After
+all, degradation of soul has one advantage. It annihilates all remorse;
+it banishes every scruple. From this on, I will shut my eyes, and
+instead of struggling against the tide which is sweeping me on to ruin,
+I will yield myself to it."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"It is now, Florence, that I need all your friendly indulgence. Up to
+this time I have deserved some interest and sympathy, perhaps, but
+now--"
+
+The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Madame de
+Luceval's maid.
+
+"What do you want?" asked Florence, impatiently.
+
+"Here is a letter a messenger just brought from M. de Luceval, madame."
+
+"Give it to me."
+
+After having read it, Florence turned to her friend and said: "M. de
+Luceval informs me that he will not dine at home, so can you not spend
+the afternoon and take dinner with me?"
+
+"I accept your invitation with pleasure, my dear Florence," Madame
+d'Infreville replied, after a moment's reflection.
+
+"Madame d'Infreville will dine with me," said Madame de Luceval, turning
+to her maid. "Give the servants to understand that I am at home to no
+one,--absolutely no one."
+
+"Yes, madame," replied Mlle. Lise, quitting the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A CONFERENCE.
+
+
+We will leave the two ladies for a time and give our attention to M. de
+Luceval. This gentleman, as we have just learned through his message to
+his wife, did not intend to dine at home that day.
+
+The reason was this:
+
+He had, as we know, left Madame de Luceval in a towering rage. He was
+also firmly resolved to insist upon his rights, and to force her to
+submit to his will, as well as to his mania for travelling.
+
+He had gone only a few steps from his house before he was accosted by a
+rather distinguished looking man about forty-five years of age, whose
+worn and haggard features bore the lines and the impress of a premature
+old age. As M. de Luceval approached, this gentleman's stern, arrogant
+face took on an expression of formal courtesy, and, bowing with great
+politeness, he inquired:
+
+"Is it to M. de Luceval that I have the honour of speaking?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"I was on my way to your house to tender you both my apologies and my
+thanks."
+
+"Before accepting either, may I not at least know, monsieur--"
+
+"Who I am? Pardon me, monsieur, for not having told you sooner. I am M.
+d'Infreville, so my name is not unknown to you, I think."
+
+"We have several mutual friends, I think," replied M. de Luceval, "and
+I congratulate myself upon my good fortune in meeting you personally,
+monsieur. But we are only a short distance from my house, and if you
+will return with me--"
+
+"I could not think of giving you that trouble, monsieur. Besides, to
+tell the truth, I should be almost afraid to meet Madame de Luceval."
+
+"And why, monsieur?"
+
+"The fact is, I have wronged madame so deeply, monsieur, that I must beg
+you to make my excuses to her before I have the honour to be presented
+to her."
+
+"Pardon me," said Florence's husband, more and more mystified, "but I
+really do not understand--"
+
+"I will explain more clearly, monsieur. But we are almost at the Champs
+Élysées. If agreeable to you, suppose we have a little chat together as
+we walk along."
+
+"Certainly, if you prefer that."
+
+And M. de Luceval, who manifested the same energy in his walk that he
+did in everything else, began to stride along, accompanied, or rather
+followed, by M. d'Infreville, who found it extremely difficult to keep
+up with his more agile companion. Nevertheless, continuing the
+conversation, he said, in a rather panting fashion:
+
+"Just now, monsieur, when I had the honour to tell you my name, and to
+add that it was probably not unknown to you, you replied that we had
+mutual friends, and I--But pardon me, I have a favour to ask of you,
+monsieur," said M. d'Infreville, entirely out of breath now.
+
+"What is it, monsieur?"
+
+"I must ask you to walk a little more slowly. My lungs are not very
+strong, and I get out of breath very quickly, as you see."
+
+"On the contrary, monsieur, it is I who should beg you to excuse me for
+walking so fast. It is a bad habit of which I find it very difficult to
+break myself; besides, if you prefer it, we can sit down. Here are some
+chairs."
+
+"I accept the proposition with pleasure, monsieur," said M.
+d'Infreville, sinking into a chair, "with very great pleasure."
+
+The two gentlemen having established themselves comfortably, M.
+d'Infreville remarked:
+
+"Permit me to say, monsieur, that you must also have heard of me through
+some other intermediary than mutual friends."
+
+"To what intermediary do you refer, monsieur?"
+
+"To Madame de Luceval."
+
+"My wife?"
+
+"Certainly, monsieur, for though I have not yet had the honour of an
+introduction to her,--as I remarked a few minutes ago,--my wife is so
+intimate with your wife that you and I cannot be strangers to each
+other. The friendship of the ladies began at the convent, and still
+continues, as they see each other almost daily, and--"
+
+"Pardon me, monsieur, but I think there must be some mistake--"
+
+"Some mistake?"
+
+"Or rather, some misunderstanding in regard to names."
+
+"And why, monsieur?"
+
+"I seldom leave Madame de Luceval. She receives very few people, and I
+have never had the pleasure of seeing Madame d'Infreville in my house."
+
+It seemed as if Valentine's husband could not believe his own ears, for,
+turning to his companion, he exclaimed, hoarsely:
+
+"Do you mean to say, monsieur--?"
+
+"That I have never had the honour of seeing Madame d'Infreville in my
+house."
+
+"But that is impossible, monsieur. My wife is with your wife almost
+constantly."
+
+"But I repeat that I have never seen Madame d'Infreville in my house,
+monsieur."
+
+"Never?" exclaimed Valentine's husband, so completely stupefied that M.
+de Luceval gazed at him in astonishment, and said:
+
+"So, as I remarked a short time ago, there must be some mistake in
+regard to the name, as you tell me that your wife visits my wife every
+day."
+
+M. d'Infreville's face had become livid. Big drops of sweat stood out
+upon his forehead, and a bitter smile contracted his bluish lips, but
+controlling himself,--for he was resolved to act the part of a gentleman
+in the presence of this stranger,--he responded in a sardonic tone:
+
+"Fortunately, all this is between husbands, my dear sir; and we ought to
+feel a little compassion for each other, for, after all, each has his
+turn at it, as one never knows what may happen."
+
+"What do you mean, monsieur?"
+
+"Ah, my vague distrust was only too well founded," murmured M.
+d'Infreville, in a sort of sullen rage. "Why did I not discover the
+truth sooner? Oh, these women, these miserable women!"
+
+"Once more, may I beg you to explain, monsieur."
+
+"You are an honourable man, monsieur," replied M. d'Infreville, in an
+almost solemn tone, "and I trust to your loyalty, sure that you will not
+refuse to aid me in my efforts to ferret out and punish an infamous
+crime, for now I understand everything. Oh, these women, these women!"
+
+M. de Luceval, fearing his companion's exclamations would attract the
+attention of several persons who were sitting a little distance from
+them, was endeavouring to calm him, when it so chanced that he caught
+sight of the footman Florence had sent out to mail her letter.
+
+Seeing this man sauntering along with a letter which had, doubtless,
+been written by Florence immediately after the lively altercation with
+her husband, M. de Luceval, yielding to an almost irresistible impulse,
+called the servant to him, and asked:
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"I am going to buy some violets for madame la marquise, and post this
+letter," he replied, showing the missive to his master as he spoke.
+
+That gentleman took it, and could not repress a movement of surprise as
+his eye fell upon the address, then, recovering himself, he dismissed
+the servant by a gesture, saying at the same time:
+
+"You can go. I will take charge of the letter."
+
+The footman having taken his departure, M. de Luceval turned to
+Valentine's husband, and remarked:
+
+"A strange presentiment, but one which did not deceive me, I find,
+impelled me to secure this letter. It proves to be one which my wife has
+written to Madame d'Infreville."
+
+"Why, in that case, my wife and your wife must at least keep up a
+correspondence," exclaimed Valentine's husband, more hopefully.
+
+"True, but I discover this fact to-day for the first time, monsieur."
+
+"Monsieur, I implore you, I adjure you, to open this letter. It is
+addressed to my wife. I will assume the whole responsibility."
+
+"Here is the letter; read it, monsieur," responded M. de Luceval, quite
+as eager to know the contents of the missive as M. d'Infreville.
+
+The latter gentleman, after hastily perusing the note, exclaimed:
+
+"Read it, monsieur. It is surely enough to drive one mad, for in this
+letter your wife reminds my wife of the delightful day they spent
+together yesterday, as well as last Wednesday, and begs her to come
+again on Sunday."
+
+[Illustration: "'HERE IS THE LETTER; READ IT, MONSIEUR.'"]
+
+"And I assure you, upon my word of honour, monsieur," responded M. de
+Luceval, after having perused the note in his turn, "that yesterday
+my wife did not get up until noon, that about three o'clock, I, with no
+little difficulty, succeeded in persuading her to take a drive with me.
+We returned a short time before dinner, and after dinner two friends of
+ours spent the evening with us. As regards Wednesday, I remember
+perfectly that I was in and out of my wife's room a number of times, and
+I again assure you, upon my word of honour, that Madame d'Infreville did
+not spend the day at our house."
+
+"Then, how do you explain this letter, monsieur?"
+
+"I do not explain it, monsieur. I merely confine myself to a plain
+statement of the facts of the case. I am as much interested in clearing
+up this mystery as you can possibly be."
+
+"Oh, I will have my revenge!" exclaimed M. d'Infreville, his long
+repressed rage bursting forth at last. "I can doubt no longer now. The
+discovery that my wife has been absenting herself from home for days at
+a time naturally aroused my suspicions. I inquired the cause of these
+frequent and prolonged absences; she replied that she often went to
+spend the day with a former schoolmate, named Madame de Luceval. The
+name was so widely known and respected, the excuse so plausible, my
+wife's manner so sincere, that I, like a fool, believed her. Now, I know
+that it was an instinctive distrust that impelled me to seek you out.
+You see what I have discovered. Oh, the infamous wretch!"
+
+"Be calm, I beg of you," entreated M. de Luceval, "your excited manner
+is attracting attention. Let us take a cab, and drive to my house at
+once, monsieur, for this mystery must be cleared up. I shudder to think
+that my wife, impelled by a desire to protect her friend, has consented
+to become an accomplice in a shameful deception. Come, monsieur, come. I
+count upon you, and you, in turn, can count upon me. It is the duty of
+all honest men to aid and sustain each other under such distressing
+circumstances. Justice must be done, and the guilty must be punished."
+
+"Yes, yes. I will have my revenge! You may be sure I will have my
+revenge!"
+
+He was trembling with rage, and his excitement increased his weakness to
+such an extent that he was obliged to lean heavily upon his companion's
+supporting arm to reach the carriage.
+
+It was about an hour after this chance meeting of the two gentlemen that
+Florence received the note from her husband announcing that he would not
+dine at home that day.
+
+So while this matrimonial storm is becoming more and more threatening,
+we will return to the two ladies who were left alone together after the
+departure of the maid who had brought M. de Luceval's note.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE CONFESSION.
+
+
+The maid had no sooner quitted the apartment than Madame d'Infreville
+said to her friend:
+
+"You proposed I should spend the rest of the day here, my dear Florence,
+and I accept your offer, so as to give a semblance of truth to my
+falsehood in case there should be any trouble."
+
+"But my letter?"
+
+"It will be supposed that the letter and I passed each other on the way,
+and that I reached here after the missive was sent."
+
+"True."
+
+"And now, my dear friend, grant me your indulgence, and perhaps, too,
+your compassion, while I tell you the rest of my sad story."
+
+"Compassion, indulgence! Surely you feel that you can count upon both,
+my poor Valentine! But go on. I am listening."
+
+"I have never told you that the windows of my bedroom, which is in the
+second story of M. d'Infreville's house, overlook a small garden which
+belongs to the ground floor of the adjoining house. About three months
+before I discovered that my husband had a mistress, and while he was
+still in a precarious state of health, the garden, as well as the
+apartments I speak of,--which had been vacant for a long
+time,--underwent numerous changes. I spent most of my time at home, my
+husband's ill health preventing me from going out at all. It was the
+beginning of summer. In order that I might enjoy more privacy when M.
+d'Infreville did not need my care, I often retired to my own room, and
+sewed or embroidered by the open window. The weather was delightful, and
+I began to notice with great interest the extensive improvements that
+were being made in the neighbouring garden. As I said a moment ago, they
+were peculiar changes, but they indicated so much originality, as well
+as good taste, that my curiosity gradually became much excited,
+especially as I saw all these changes effected without ever catching a
+glimpse of the new inmate of the neighbouring _rez-de-chaussée_. It was
+interesting to watch the transformation of this rather neglected,
+commonplace garden into a place of ravishing beauty. A conservatory
+filled with rare plants, and communicating with one of the rooms, was
+built along the south wall; the opposite wall was concealed from view by
+a grotto built of large rocks intermingled with shrubbery. A tiny
+waterfall trickled down one side of this rocky grotto into a big basin
+below, diffusing a refreshing coolness around; and finally, a sort of
+rustic summer-house, roofed with thatch and divided into arches, was
+constructed against the other side of the wall which enclosed this
+garden, which was soon so filled with flowers that, seen from my window,
+it resembled one gigantic bouquet. You will understand presently why I
+enter into these details."
+
+"But this ravishing spot in the heart of Paris was a veritable
+paradise!"
+
+"It was, indeed, a charming spot. A gilded aviary, filled with
+magnificent birds, was placed in the middle of the grass plot, and a
+sort of veranda or broad covered gallery was built in front of the
+windows, and furnished with rattan couches, Turkish divans, and costly
+rugs. A piano, too, was placed there, and this broad piazza, protected
+by Venetian blinds during the day, if necessary, made a delightfully
+cool and shady retreat in summer."
+
+"Really, it seems to be a tale from the Arabian Nights that I am
+listening to! What a clever person it must have been who could gather
+together so many marvels of good taste and comfort in so small a space.
+But did the originator never show himself?"
+
+"He did not appear until after all these arrangements had been
+completed."
+
+"But hadn't you endeavoured to find out who this mysterious neighbour
+was? I confess that I couldn't have resisted the temptation to do so."
+
+Valentine smiled sadly as she replied:
+
+"It so happened that the sister of M. d'Infreville's steward was my
+mysterious neighbour's only servant. Informed by her brother, this woman
+had told her employer of this apartment and garden. One day, my
+curiosity so far got the better of me that I asked our steward if he
+knew who had just leased the ground floor in the next house, and he told
+me several things that excited my curiosity still more."
+
+"Indeed, and what were these things, my dear Valentine?"
+
+"He said that this new neighbour was the best and most generous-hearted
+man in the world,--for instance, when, after the death of an uncle who
+left him quite a handsome fortune, he wanted to hire several servants,
+and live in a rather more luxurious fashion, this same old woman whom I
+have spoken of, and who used to be his nurse, told him, with tears in
+her eyes, that she could not endure the thought of seeing other servants
+in his house. In vain he promised her that she should have authority
+over them all, act as a sort of confidential servant or housekeeper in
+short, but she would not listen to him. In his kindness of heart, he did
+not insist, so, in spite of his newly acquired wealth, he kept in his
+service only this old servant. This may seem a trivial incident to you,
+my dear Florence, but--"
+
+"On the contrary, I think the delicate consideration he displayed
+extremely touching, and not unfrequently these apparent trifles enable
+one to judge very accurately of a person's character."
+
+"I think so, too. In fact, from that time, I felt sure that my neighbour
+was both kind-hearted and generous. I soon discovered, too, that his
+name was Michel Renaud."
+
+"Michel Renaud? Good Heavens!" exclaimed Madame de Luceval.
+
+"Yes; but what is the matter, Florence?"
+
+"How strange, how passing strange that--"
+
+"Pray go on."
+
+"Is he the son of General Renaud, who was killed in the last war of the
+Empire?"
+
+"Yes. Do you know him?"
+
+"He is M. de Luceval's cousin."
+
+"Michel, M. de Luceval's cousin?"
+
+"And hardly a day passes that my husband does not speak of him."
+
+"Of Michel?"
+
+"Yes, but I have never seen him. Possibly he took offence on account of
+M. de Luceval's marriage, like nearly all the members of the family, for
+he has never called to see us. That doesn't surprise me much, however,
+for my husband has never been on particularly friendly terms with any of
+his relatives."
+
+"What you say amazes me! Michel, your husband's cousin? But how does M.
+de Luceval happen to speak of Michel so often?"
+
+"Alas! my poor Valentine, it is on account of a grievous fault of which
+M. Michel Renaud and I are both guilty, it seems,--a fault which is my
+chief happiness, and, to speak plainly, my husband's greatest safeguard;
+but men are so blind!"
+
+"Explain, I beg of you."
+
+"You know I was considered incorrigibly indolent at the convent. How
+many remonstrances, how many punishments I received on account of that
+fault!"
+
+"True."
+
+"Well, this fault seems to increase with age,--it has attained truly
+colossal proportions now, so colossal, in fact, that it has become
+almost a virtue."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mean that, far from experiencing any desire to imitate them, I feel
+only the greatest pity and compassion for those unfortunate women whom a
+mad love of society plunges into a whirlpool of gaiety and dissipation.
+The mere thought of the tiresome, unsatisfactory, wearing manner in
+which they enjoy themselves makes me shudder. Think of attending three
+or four balls or receptions every evening, to say nothing of the play;
+of rushing madly from one's dressmaker to one's milliner, and from there
+to one's florist; of dressing and undressing oneself, and of trying on
+gowns, and having one's hair arranged; of making three toilets a day,
+and dancing and riding and waltzing from morning till night. One must
+have nerves of steel, and the constitution of a prize-fighter to stand
+such a fatiguing life. How different all this is from the delightful
+rest I enjoy on this armchair, finding inexpressible enjoyment in my
+languid contemplation of earth and sky. When winter comes, I find myself
+equally happy half dozing in my armchair, or nestling under my
+eider-down quilt while the hail dashes against the window-panes. I thus
+enjoy all the varying charms of _dolce far niente_ at all seasons of the
+year, thinking and dreaming, sometimes awake, sometimes half asleep. I
+am quite capable, I must admit, of spending an entire day stretched out
+on the grass, watching the passing clouds, listening to the sighing of
+the wind, the buzzing of the insects, and the soft murmur of the
+brooklet,--in short, my dear Valentine, no savage denizen of the forest
+ever appreciated the infinite delight of a free and idle life more
+keenly than I do, and never was there a person more devoutly grateful
+to Heaven who has provided such simple and innocent enjoyment for us.
+But what is the matter, Valentine?" asked Madame de Luceval, gazing at
+her friend in surprise. "What is the meaning of these troubled looks,
+this emotion which you cannot conceal, try as you will? Valentine, once
+more I entreat you, answer me."
+
+A brief silence followed this appeal, after which Madame d'Infreville,
+passing her hand across her forehead, replied, in a slightly constrained
+voice:
+
+"Listen to the conclusion of my story, Florence, and you will, perhaps,
+divine what I cannot and dare not tell you."
+
+"Speak, then, I beg of you."
+
+"The first time I saw Michel," Valentine continued, "he was on the
+veranda I told you about. He spent most of his time there during the
+summer. Concealed from view by my window-shutter, I could examine him at
+my leisure, and it would be difficult to conceive of a handsomer man.
+Half reclining on a Turkish divan, enveloped in a long robe of India
+silk, he was smoking a narghile in an attitude of Oriental _abandon_,
+with his eyes fixed upon his garden. After listening awhile with evident
+delight to the murmur of the waterfall, and the singing of the beautiful
+birds in his aviary, he picked up a book, which he laid down again now
+and then, as if to think over what he had just read. Soon two of his
+friends dropped in. One of them is justly considered one of the most
+eminent men of the day. It was M. M----"
+
+"You are right. He is one of the most brilliant and famous men of his
+time. I know him by sight and by reputation, and his exalted position,
+as well as the great difference in age between Michel and himself, make
+his visit to a rather obscure young man certainly very extraordinary.
+Did M. Michel seem to be very much flattered by this visit?"
+
+"On the contrary, Michel welcomed him with affectionate familiarity. It
+seemed to me that M. M---- treated him on a footing of perfect equality.
+A long conversation ensued, of which I, of course, could not hear a
+word. To compensate for this disappointment, I took an opera-glass, and
+from my place of concealment studied Michel's face closely during the
+interview. I could even watch the movements of his lips. I found a
+singular charm in this close scrutiny, and though I, of course, had no
+idea concerning the subject of the conversation, I could see that an
+animated discussion was going on between M---- and Michel. At first,
+M---- seemed to be arguing his point in the most energetic manner, but
+subsequently I saw, by the expression of his face, that he was gradually
+becoming a convert to Michel's opinion, though not without a stubborn
+resistance on his part. Nevertheless, an involuntary sign of assent
+occasionally testified to the advantage Michel was gaining, and he
+finally won a complete victory. I cannot describe the charm of your
+cousin's features during this long contest. By their mobility, as well
+as by the animation of his gestures, I could see that he was employing,
+in turn, fervid eloquence, keen raillery, and weighty arguments, to
+refute the statements of his guests and convert them to his way of
+thinking. The interview lasted a long time; when it was ended, Michel's
+friends took leave of him with even greater cordiality. He made a
+movement as if to rise and accompany them to the door, but they,
+laughingly, compelled him to retain his half recumbent attitude,
+apparently telling him that they knew what a terrible effort it would be
+for him to move. I learned afterwards that M----, being obliged to make
+a very important decision, had come--as he was frequently in the habit
+of doing--to consult Michel, whose tact is as unerring as his judgment
+is sound. From that day, my dear friend, though I had never even spoken
+to Michel, I felt a deep interest in him, which, alas, was fated to
+exert entirely too great an influence on my life."
+
+The young woman remained silent for a moment.
+
+As her friend proceeded, Florence had become more and more interested in
+the story and its hero, especially as she noted the many points of
+similarity between that gentleman's tastes and character and her own,
+for M. de Luceval, in reverting to his cousin Michel's incurable
+indolence, had never said anything that would serve to excuse it or
+imbue it with any romantic charm. And Florence also understood now the
+surprise, and, perhaps, even the feeling of involuntary jealousy that
+Valentine had not been able to entirely conceal when she, Florence, had
+expounded her ingenious theory on the subject of indolence and its
+delights.
+
+Not that Madame d'Infreville was really jealous of Madame de Luceval;
+that would have been the height of folly. Florence did not even know
+Michel Renaud, and she was too sincere in her friendship to desire to
+make his acquaintance with the intention of alienating him from her
+friend.
+
+Nevertheless, Madame d'Infreville experienced a sort of vague envy and
+uneasiness as she thought of all the elements of sympathy and happiness
+which were combined in the strange similarity of character which she now
+perceived in Florence and Michel Renaud.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+COUNTERPARTS.
+
+
+Madame de Luceval, after having remained silent and thoughtful for a
+moment, remarked to her friend:
+
+"I can easily understand the deep impression that the incidents of the
+day on which you saw Cousin Michel for the first time must have made
+upon you. You saw that he was remarkably handsome and that he was also
+highly gifted, as he seemed to exercise such an influence over one of
+the most famous men of our time, while the delicate consideration shown
+to his old nurse proved conclusively that his was a most generous heart.
+This, alas! was enough, and more than enough, my poor Valentine, to
+excite the interest and admiration of a person so unfortunately situated
+as yourself."
+
+"Then, Florence, though you may not excuse, you can at least understand
+how such a passion as this was born in my heart."
+
+"I can not only understand, but excuse it, in one so crushed with grief
+and disappointment. Your situation was so trying that it was only
+natural that you should endeavour to divert and console yourself."
+
+"I scarcely need tell you, then, that I thought of Michel all that night
+in spite of myself. Early the next morning I ran to my window, and gazed
+eagerly out through the protecting blinds. The day was superb, and
+Michel spent it as he had spent the previous day, stretched out upon a
+couch on the veranda, smoking, reading, dreaming, and enjoying to the
+full the happiness of being alive, as he told me afterwards. During the
+day, a man dressed in black, and carrying a large portfolio under his
+arm, visited him. Thanks to my lorgnette I soon discovered that he was
+Michel's man of affairs. In fact, he drew several papers from his
+portfolio, apparently with the intention of reading them to Michel, but
+the latter took them and signed them without even taking the trouble to
+glance over them, after which the visitor drew from his pocket a roll of
+bank-notes, which he handed to your cousin, apparently with the request
+that he would count them, which he refused to do, thus showing his blind
+confidence in this man."
+
+"All of which goes to prove that our dear cousin is very careless in
+business matters."
+
+"Alas! that is only too true, unfortunately for him."
+
+"What! is his fortune--?"
+
+"You shall know all if you will give me your attention a few minutes
+longer. During the day, which was spent in complete idleness, like the
+one which had preceded it, Michel's nurse brought him a letter. He read
+it. Ah, Florence, never have I seen compassion so touchingly depicted
+upon any human face. He opened the desk in which he had placed the
+bank-notes, and handed one to his nurse. The good woman threw her arms
+around his neck, and you can not imagine with what delightful emotion he
+seemed to receive her almost maternal caresses.
+
+"It was long after sunset," continued Valentine, "before I could again
+shut myself up in my own room, and return to my dear window. But I had
+scarcely looked out before I saw a young woman enter the gallery and
+hasten towards Michel. It was a terrible shock to me. It was both stupid
+and foolish in me, of course, for I had not the slightest claim upon
+Michel, but the feeling was not only involuntary but uncontrollable,
+and, darting away from the window, I threw myself in an armchair, and
+burying my face in my hands, wept long and bitterly. Subsequently, I
+fell into a deep reverie, from which I was aroused a couple of hours
+afterwards by a prelude upon the piano, and soon two voices that
+harmonised perfectly began to sing the impassioned duet of Mathilde and
+Arnold from the opera of 'Guillaume Tell.'"
+
+"It was Michel?"
+
+"Yes, Michel and that woman!"
+
+It is impossible to describe the way in which Valentine uttered the
+words, "That woman."
+
+After a moment of painful silence she continued:
+
+"The night was clear and still, and the two vibrant, impassioned voices
+soared heavenward like a pæan of happiness and love. For awhile I
+listened in spite of myself, but towards the last it made me so utterly
+wretched, that, not having the courage to go away, I covered my ears
+with my hands; then, blushing for my absurd weakness, I tried to listen
+again, but the song had ended. I went back to the window; the air was
+heavy with the rich perfume of a thousand flowers; there was not a
+breath of wind; a soft, faint light like that from an alabaster lamp
+shone through the lowered blinds of the gallery. A profound silence
+reigned for a few moments, then I heard the gravel in the garden path
+crunch under the feet of Michel and that woman. They were walking slowly
+along; his arm was around her waist. I could bear no more, and I hastily
+closed the window. I passed a frightful night. What new and terrible
+passions had been aroused during the last two days! Love, desire,
+jealousy, hatred, remorse,--yes, remorse, for I felt now that an
+irresistible power was sweeping me on to ruin, and that I should succumb
+in the struggle. You know the energy and ardour of my character; the
+same attributes entered into this unfortunate love. I resisted bravely
+for a time; but when my husband's cruel and brutal conduct exasperated
+me so deeply, I felt released from all obligations to him, and blindly
+abandoned myself to the passion that was devouring me."
+
+"But you have been happy, very happy, have you not, Valentine?"
+
+"At first I experienced bliss unspeakable, though it was marred at times
+by the recollection of that woman from whom Michel had long been
+separated. She was a celebrated opera singer, celebrated even in Italy,
+I believe. I found Michel all I had dreamed,--talented, witty, refined,
+graceful, deferential, courteous,--all these attributes were united in
+him, together with a marvellous tenderness and delicacy of feeling, and
+a perfect disposition. And yet, this liaison had scarcely lasted two
+months before I became the most miserable of women, while adoring Michel
+as much as ever."
+
+"But why, my poor Valentine? From what you have just told me, I should
+think that Michel possessed every attribute necessary to make you
+happy."
+
+"Yes," sighed Valentine, "but all these attributes are nullified by an
+incurable fault, by--"
+
+Madame d'Infreville gave a sudden start, then paused abruptly.
+
+"Why do you stop so suddenly, Valentine?" asked Florence, in surprise.
+"Why this reticence? Go on, I beg of you. Haven't you perfect confidence
+in me?"
+
+"Have I not just proved it by my confession?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes; but go on."
+
+"You will understand my reticence, I think," continued Madame
+d'Infreville, after a moment's hesitation, "when I tell you that all
+that is kind and noble and tender and commendable in Michel is spoiled
+by an incurable apathy."
+
+"My chief fault!" exclaimed Madame de Luceval, "so you were afraid to
+tell me that."
+
+"No, no, Florence; your indolence is charming."
+
+"M. de Luceval doesn't agree with you on that point," responded the
+young wife, smiling faintly.
+
+"But your indolence has no such disastrous consequences, either so far
+as you, yourself, or your husband are concerned," replied Valentine.
+"You enjoy it, and no one really suffers from it. It is very different
+in Michel's case. He has paid no attention whatever to money matters,
+and his man of business, encouraged by this negligence, has not only
+stolen from him in the most shameful manner, but has also embarked in
+various business enterprises which have been profitable to him but
+ruinous to Michel, who has been too indolent to verify his accounts; and
+now, I am by no means sure that he has enough money left to live upon
+even in the most frugal manner."
+
+"Poor fellow, how sad that is! But is not your influence sufficiently
+strong to overcome this unfortunate indolence?"
+
+"My influence!" repeated Valentine, smiling bitterly. "What influence
+can one have over a character like his. Arguments, prayers, entreaties,
+and warnings do not disturb his serenity in the least. No harsh or
+unkind word ever falls from Michel's lips, oh, no, but he shrinks from
+anger and impatience, precisely as he shrinks from fatigue. Always calm,
+smiling, and affectionate, the most vehement remonstrances, the most
+despairing supplications, receive no other answer than a smile or a
+kiss. It is because he has thus completely ignored my advice and
+entreaties that he finds himself in his present alarming position,
+alarming at least to me, though not to him; for having led a perfectly
+indolent life up to the present time, he is not likely to find himself
+possessed of sufficient courage or energy to rescue himself from his
+deplorable position when his entire ruin is accomplished."
+
+"You are right, Valentine; the situation is even graver than I thought."
+
+"Yes, for one terrible fear haunts me continually."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Michel is endowed with too keen powers of discernment to deceive
+himself in regard to his future. He knows, too, that when his last louis
+is spent he has nothing to expect from any one, much less from himself."
+
+"But what do you fear?"
+
+"That he will kill himself," replied Valentine, shuddering.
+
+"Good Heavens! has he hinted at anything of the kind?"
+
+"Oh, no, he has taken good care not to do that. Any such intimation
+would be sure to lead to a distressing scene on my part, and he hates
+tears and complaints of any kind. No, he has never admitted that the
+thought of self-destruction has even occurred to him, but the fact
+escaped him one day, for he remarked, laughingly, as if it were the
+simplest thing in the world: 'Happy dead,--eternal idleness is their
+portion.'"
+
+"But Valentine, this fear is terrible."
+
+"And it never leaves me, even for an instant," replied the unfortunate
+woman, bursting into tears; "and yet I am obliged to conceal it in his
+presence, for whenever he sees me sad or preoccupied, he says to me,
+with that tender, gracious smile of his:
+
+"'Why this sadness, my dear Valentine? Are we not young, and do we not
+love each other? Let us think only of our happiness. I love you as much
+as it is possible for me to love any one, so take me as I am, and if I
+have displeased you in any way, or if I no longer please you, leave me,
+find some one who suits you better, and let us remain friends only. In
+my opinion, love should be only joy and felicity, tenderness and repose.
+It should be like a beautiful lake, clear and calm, reflecting only the
+pleasant things of life. Why cast a gloom over it by useless anxiety?
+Let us enjoy our youth in peace, my angel! The person who has known
+during his whole life ten days of perfect, radiant happiness, should be
+content to thank God and die. We have had a hundred and more of such
+days, my Valentine, and whether we enjoy more of them depends only upon
+yourself, for I adore you. Am I not too indolent to be inconstant?'"
+
+"Yes," added Valentine, with increasing earnestness, "yes, that is the
+way in which Michel regards love. Those alternations of hope and fear,
+the vague unrest, the foolish, but no less terrible fits of jealousy
+that lacerate one's heart, only excite Michel's derision. His
+indolence--I can not say his indifference, for, after all, he loves me
+as much as he can love any one, as he says himself--irritates me and
+makes my blood fairly boil sometimes; but I restrain myself, because, in
+spite of myself, I adore him just as he is. Nor is this all. Michel
+never seems to have the slightest suspicion of the remorse and anxiety
+and fears that assail me every day, for in order that I may be able to
+spend several hours and sometimes even an entire day with him, I am
+obliged to tell falsehood after falsehood, to place myself almost at the
+mercy of my servants, and to devise new pretexts for my frequent
+absences. And when I return, ah, Florence, when I return,--if you knew
+what a terrible load I have on my heart when, after a long absence, I
+place my hand on the knocker, saying to myself all the while, 'What if
+everything has been discovered!' And when I find myself face to face
+with my husband, I am even more miserable. To meet his gaze, to try to
+discover if he has the slightest suspicion of the truth, to tremble
+inwardly at his most trivial question, to appear calm and indifferent
+when I am half crazed with fear and anxiety,--all this is torture. And
+to add to my misery and degradation, I must be assiduous in my
+attentions to a husband I loathe; I must even stoop to flattery to keep
+him in good humour, so terribly am I afraid of him, and so eager am I to
+drive away his suspicions by a bright and cheerful manner. Sometimes,
+Florence, I must even be gay, do you hear me? Gay, when I have death in
+my soul. Ah, Florence, such a life is nothing more or less than a hell
+upon earth, and yet it is impossible for me to abandon it."
+
+"Oh, Valentine," exclaimed Madame de Luceval, throwing herself in her
+friend's arms, "I thank you, my dear, dear friend, I thank you! You have
+saved me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+CONNUBIAL INFELICITIES.
+
+
+Madame de Luceval had been listening to her friend with rapidly
+increasing interest and curiosity for several minutes; then, apparently
+unable to control her emotion any longer, she had thrown herself in
+Valentine's arms, exclaiming:
+
+"I thank you, my dear, dear friend, I thank you. You have saved me!"
+
+"Good Heavens! Florence, why do you thank me? Explain, I beg of you,"
+said Madame d'Infreville, gazing at her friend with the utmost
+astonishment.
+
+"You think I have lost my senses, I suppose," responded Madame de
+Luceval, smiling faintly. "You little know what a great service you have
+rendered me."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes; a great, an immense service," replied Florence, with a strange
+mixture of emotion, mirth, and mischievousness. "Would you believe it,
+when you first told me that you had a lover, I envied you as I envied
+you at the convent when you left it to be married. And then--why should
+I try to conceal it from you?--Cousin Michel's tastes and his manner of
+life seemed so entirely congenial to me, that I said to myself: 'This is
+just my idea of love. That which annoys my poor Valentine so much would,
+on the contrary, delight me, and I believe I should love to have a
+Michel myself.'"
+
+"Florence, what are you saying?"
+
+"Let me finish, please. I am not disposed to conceal anything from you,
+so I may as well tell you that, as I see stormy times ahead, and as my
+husband is becoming more and more insupportable, I thought it quite
+possible that I should require consolation for such an ill-assorted
+union myself at some future day."
+
+"Oh, Florence, take care," exclaimed Valentine, in evident alarm, "if
+you knew--"
+
+"If I knew?" retorted Madame de Luceval, interrupting her friend; "if I
+knew? Why, thanks to you, I do know, and after what you have just told
+me, nothing on earth could induce me to have a lover. And I verily
+believe, Heaven forgive me! that I would rather go to the North Pole or
+to the Caucasus with my husband, than subject myself to all the misery
+and trials and torments your lover has cost you. A lover! Great Heavens!
+How wearing it would be! My natural indolence will serve in place of
+virtue in this instance. Each person is virtuous according to his or her
+ability, and provided one is virtuous, that is the essential thing,
+isn't it, Valentine?"
+
+As Florence uttered these words, her expression was at once so serious
+and so droll, that, in spite of her own troubles, her friend could not
+help smiling as Madame de Luceval added:
+
+"Ah, my poor Valentine, I do pity you, for such a life must be a hell
+upon earth, as you say."
+
+"Yes, Florence, so take my advice. Persist in your resolve, and remain
+faithful to your duties, no matter how onerous they may seem. Profit by
+my experience, I entreat you," added Valentine, tenderly. "I shall
+reproach myself all my life if I feel that I have put sinful ideas into
+your head, or encouraged you to follow my example. So promise me,
+Florence, my friend, my dear friend, that I shall be spared this sorrow,
+promise me--"
+
+"You need have no fears on that score, Valentine. Think what it would be
+for a person who loves her ease as I do, to attempt to deceive a
+husband who is rushing in and out of my room a dozen times a day. Why,
+it makes my brain reel, merely to think of it. No, no; the lesson you
+have taught me is a good one. It will bear fruit, I assure you. But to
+return to the subject of your troubles. Your husband's suspicions do not
+seem to have been aroused as yet."
+
+"You are mistaken about that, I fear, though I am not positive of it."
+
+"Why do you think so?"
+
+"As I told you, my husband spends very little time at home. He leaves
+the house in the morning, directly after breakfast, and is not only in
+the habit of dining with his mistress, but of receiving his friends at
+her house. Afterwards, he takes her to the theatre, returning to her
+home with her afterwards, where there is pretty heavy playing, people
+say. At all events, he seldom returns home before three or four o'clock
+in the morning."
+
+"A nice life for a married man!"
+
+"Either because he has confidence in me, or is indifferent on the
+subject, he seldom questions me about the way in which I spend my time;
+but a couple of days ago, not feeling as well as usual, he returned home
+about three o'clock in the afternoon. I supposed that he would be absent
+all day, as he told me in the morning that he would not dine at home, so
+I did not return from Michel's until ten in the evening."
+
+"_Mon Dieu!_ How frightened you must have been when you heard of your
+husband's return. It makes me shudder to think of it!"
+
+"I was so terrified that I at first thought I would not even go up to my
+own room, but run out of the house and never come back."
+
+"That is what I should have done, I am sure. Still, I don't know--"
+
+"At last I summoned up all my courage, and went up-stairs. The doctor
+was there, and M. d'Infreville was suffering so much that he scarcely
+addressed a word to me. I nursed him all night with hypocritical zeal.
+When he became easier, he asked me why I had absented myself from home
+so long, and where I had been. I had been preparing an answer, for I
+knew the question would come sooner or later, so I told him I had been
+spending the day with you, as I did quite frequently, since he had left
+me so much of the time alone. He seemed to believe me, and even
+pretended to approve, remarking that he knew M. de Luceval by
+reputation, and was glad to hear of my intimacy with his wife. I thought
+I was saved, but last night I learned, through my maid, that my husband
+had questioned her very adroitly, evidently for the purpose of finding
+out if I was often absent from home. My apprehensions became so grave
+that, resolved to escape from such an intolerable position at any cost,
+I went to Michel this morning, and said: 'I am going to confess all to
+my mother; tell her that my husband has grave suspicions, and that there
+is nothing left for me but to flee. I shall not return to my husband's
+house. My mother and I will leave Paris this evening for Brussels. You
+can join us there if you wish, and the remains of your fortune, and what
+I can earn by my needle, will suffice for our support. However poor and
+laborious our life may be, I shall be spared the terrible necessity of
+lying every day, and of living in a state of continual suspense and
+terror."
+
+"And he consented?"
+
+"He!" exclaimed Valentine, bitterly. "What a fool I was to count upon
+any such display of firmness on his part! He gazed at me a moment as if
+stupefied, then assured me that my resolution was absurd in the extreme;
+that persons resorted to such extreme measures only when they were
+absolutely compelled to do so; that it would probably be a comparatively
+easy matter to allay my husband's suspicions, and he finally suggested
+my asking you to write that letter."
+
+"Perhaps he was right, after all, in advising you not to flee, as much
+for your sake as his own, for you are not in such very desperate
+straits, after all, it seems to me."
+
+"Florence, I feel a presentiment that--"
+
+But Madame d'Infreville never finished the sentence.
+
+The door of the room was suddenly burst open, and M. de Luceval and M.
+d'Infreville presented themselves to the astonished gaze of Florence and
+Valentine.
+
+"I am lost!" the latter exclaimed, overwhelmed with terror. Then,
+covered with shame at the sight of M. de Luceval, she buried her face in
+her hands.
+
+Florence hastily sprang to her friend's side as if to protect her, and
+said to M. de Luceval, imperiously:
+
+"What is your business here?"
+
+"I have come to convict you of falsehood, and of a disgraceful
+complicity with an evil-doer, madame," responded M. de Luceval,
+threateningly.
+
+"I have discovered that Madame d'Infreville has been absenting herself
+from her home for entire days for some time past, madame," added the
+other husband, turning to Florence. "Yesterday I asked Madame
+d'Infreville where she had spent the day. She told me she had spent it
+at your house. This letter of yours, madame (he held it up as he spoke),
+written at the instigation of my wife and with the intention of making
+me the dupe of an infamous falsehood, happened to fall into M. de
+Luceval's hands. He has sworn, and I believe him, that he has never once
+seen Madame d'Infreville here. Under such circumstances, madame, I can
+hardly believe that you will insist any longer that the contrary is the
+truth."
+
+"Yes, madame," exclaimed M. de Luceval, "such an admission on your part
+will not only convict a guilty woman, but at the same time serve as a
+just punishment for your own shameless complicity."
+
+"All I have to say, monsieur, is that Madame d'Infreville is, and always
+will be, my best friend," responded Florence, resolutely; "and the more
+unhappy she is, the more she can count upon my devoted affection."
+
+"What, madame!" exclaimed M. de Luceval; "is it possible that you
+dare--"
+
+"Yes; and I also dare to tell M. d'Infreville that his conduct towards
+his wife has been both disgraceful and heartless."
+
+"Enough, madame, enough!" cried M. de Luceval, deeply exasperated.
+
+"No, monsieur, it is not enough," retorted Florence. "I still have to
+remind M. d'Infreville that he is in my house, and that as he knows now
+what I think of him, he must realise that his presence is an intrusion
+here."
+
+"You are right, madame; I have heard too much already," retorted M.
+d'Infreville, with a sardonic smile.
+
+Then taking his wife roughly by the arm, he said:
+
+"Come with me, madame."
+
+The terrified woman, crushed by the burden of her shame, rose
+mechanically, with her face still buried in her hands.
+
+"My mother, oh, my mother!" she murmured, despairingly.
+
+"I will not desert you, Valentine!" exclaimed Florence, springing
+towards her friend.
+
+But M. de Luceval, who was evidently very angry, seized his wife around
+the waist and held her as in a vice, saying as he did so:
+
+"You dare to defy me in this fashion, do you, madame?"
+
+M. d'Infreville took advantage of this opportunity to drag Valentine
+away, the unfortunate woman offering no resistance, but exclaiming, in a
+voice broken with sobs, as she disappeared from sight:
+
+"Farewell, Florence, farewell!"
+
+Madame de Luceval, pale with grief and indignation, remained perfectly
+motionless for a moment in the grasp of her husband, who did not relax
+his hold upon her until after Valentine had left the room.
+
+The young woman then said, in a perfectly calm voice:
+
+"M. de Luceval, you have laid violent hands upon me. From this time on,
+all is over between us."
+
+"Madame!"
+
+"You have had your way, monsieur; now I shall have mine, as I will prove
+to you."
+
+"Will you have the goodness to make your wishes known, madame,"
+responded H. de Luceval, with a sardonic smile.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Go on, madame."
+
+"In the first place, we are to separate, quietly, peaceably, and without
+the slightest scandal."
+
+"Ah, indeed!"
+
+"It is a thing that is often done, I have heard."
+
+"And at seventeen madame expects to roam about the world as she
+pleases."
+
+"Roam about the world! Heaven preserve me from that. Travelling is not
+at all to my taste, as you know, monsieur."
+
+"This is no subject for jesting," exclaimed M. de Luceval, hotly. "Are
+you really insane enough to imagine that you can live alone and exactly
+as you please, when your husband has you completely in his power?"
+
+"I have no intention of living alone, monsieur."
+
+"And with whom does madame expect to live, may I ask?"
+
+"Valentine is very unhappy. I intend to live with her and her mother. My
+fortune is entirely independent of yours, thank Heaven!"
+
+"You intend to live with that woman,--a woman who has had a lover, a
+woman that her husband will drive out of his house this very night--and
+he is perfectly right!--a woman who deserves the contempt of all decent
+people. It is with a creature like that you propose to live. The mere
+announcement of such an intention on your part is quite enough to put
+you in a madhouse, madame."
+
+"M. de Luceval, the extremely disagreeable events of the day have
+fatigued me very much, and you will oblige me by not annoying me
+further. I shall merely add that if any one deserves the contempt of all
+decent people, it is M. d'Infreville, for it was his shameful treatment
+of his wife that drove her to ruin. As for Valentine, what she deserves,
+and will always be sure of from me, is the tenderest compassion."
+
+"Why, this is outrageous! It is enough to put you in a madhouse, I tell
+you!"
+
+"Understand me once for all, M. de Luceval. No one will shut me up in a
+madhouse. I shall have my liberty, and you will have yours; and I shall
+make such use of mine as I think proper."
+
+"We will see about that, madame!"
+
+"Or rather, you will see, monsieur."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FOUR YEARS LATER.
+
+
+Four years have elapsed since the events we have just related.
+
+It is a winter's day; the cold is intense, the sky gray and lowering. A
+woman is walking down the Rue de Vaugirard, pausing now and then to
+glance at the numbers on the houses, as if in search of some particular
+one.
+
+This woman, who is dressed in mourning, seems to be about twenty-three
+years of age. She is tall and slender, a decided brunette, with large
+black eyes, full of expression. Her features are regular, though a
+little haggard, and her mobile face reveals, in turn, a bitter sadness
+or a mingled anxiety and impatience. Her quick, somewhat irregular tread
+also betrays deep agitation.
+
+When this young woman had walked nearly half way down the street, she
+paused again to study the numbers, and finding herself opposite Number
+57, she gave a quick start, and pressed her hand upon her heart, as if
+to quiet its throbbings; then, after standing a moment perfectly
+motionless, she directed her steps towards the porte-cochère, then
+paused again in evident hesitation, but having seen several notices
+announcing that there were apartments to rent in the house, she
+resolutely entered the courtyard and walked straight to the porter's
+lodge.
+
+"You have several apartments to rent, I see, monsieur," she said to the
+concierge.
+
+"Yes, madame. The first and the third floor, and two separate rooms."
+
+"The first floor would be too dear for me, I fear. The third would
+probably suit me better. What do you ask for it?"
+
+"Six hundred francs, madame. That is the lowest, for it has just been
+freshly done up."
+
+"How many rooms are there?"
+
+"A kitchen, a small dining-room, a parlour, a large bedchamber with a
+big dressing-room, and another small room that would do for a servant.
+If madame will go up-stairs, she can see for herself."
+
+"I would first like to know who lives in the house. I am a widow and
+live alone, so you can understand why I ask this question."
+
+"Certainly, madame. The house is very respectable and extremely quiet.
+The first floor is not occupied, as I told you. A professor in the law
+school, a highly respectable man, lives on the second floor. He has a
+wife but no children. The third floor is the one I offered to madame. On
+the fourth floor there are two small rooms which are occupied by a young
+man. When I say a young man I don't exactly mean that, however, for M.
+Michel Renaud must be about thirty."
+
+On hearing the name of Michel Renaud, the young woman, in spite of her
+self-control, turned first red and then pale, a sad smile flitted across
+her lips, and her large black eyes gleamed more brightly under their
+long lashes; but, conquering her emotion, she replied calmly and with a
+well-feigned air of indifference:
+
+"And the rooms on the third floor are directly under those occupied by
+this gentleman, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Is the gentleman married?"
+
+"No, madame."
+
+"I hope you will not be surprised at the questions I put to you, but I
+have such a horror of a noise over my head, and of bad company, that I
+should like to be sure that my future neighbour is not boisterous like
+so many young men, and that his acquaintances are not such persons as it
+would be disagreeable for me to meet on the stairways as I go and come."
+
+"M. Michel Renaud have any such company as that! Oh, no, madame; oh,
+no!" exclaimed the concierge, indignantly.
+
+An expression of hope and joy irradiated the lady's sad face for an
+instant, and she replied, with a smile:
+
+"I had no intention of maligning the gentleman, and the evident
+astonishment my question causes you is very reassuring."
+
+"M. Renaud is one of the steadiest of men. Every day of the
+world--Sundays and holidays as well--he leaves his rooms at half-past
+three or four o'clock in the morning at the very latest, and never
+returns until midnight, so he has no visitors."
+
+"They would certainly have to be remarkably early ones, in that case,"
+remarked the young woman, who seemed to take a deep interest in these
+details. "But does the gentleman leave as early as that every morning?"
+
+"Yes, madame, in winter as well as summer. Nothing keeps him."
+
+"But what business does the gentleman follow that it is necessary for
+him to leave home by four o'clock in the morning, and remain away until
+midnight?"
+
+"That is more than I know, madame; but this much is certain, this tenant
+is not likely to annoy you in any way."
+
+"I believe I could not find a house that would suit me better, judging
+from what you say. But is it really true that you have no idea what
+business your tenant follows?"
+
+"How should I know, madame? During the three years that M. Renaud has
+lived here he has received only one letter. That was merely addressed
+to M. Michel Renaud, and no living soul ever comes to see him."
+
+"But he is not dumb, I suppose?"
+
+"He might almost as well be. When he goes out in the morning, I am in
+bed; when he returns, it is just the same. In the morning, he says, 'The
+door, please;' in the evening, when he takes his candle, 'Good night, M.
+Landré' (that is my name). That is the extent of our conversation."
+
+"But doesn't he keep a servant?"
+
+"No, madame, he does all his own housework. That is to say, he makes his
+own bed, blacks his shoes, brushes his clothes, and sweeps his room."
+
+"He!" exclaimed the young woman, in accents of the most profound
+astonishment.
+
+Then bethinking herself, she added:
+
+"It seems so strange that a gentleman should do all those things for
+himself."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," replied the concierge, who seemed surprised at the
+lady's evident astonishment; "everybody hasn't an income of fifty
+thousand francs a year, and when one hasn't the money to pay a servant,
+one must serve oneself."
+
+"That is very true, monsieur."
+
+"And now would madame like to see the third floor?"
+
+"Yes, for, after all, I think it would be difficult for me to find a
+house that would suit me better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ANOTHER SEARCH.
+
+
+As the prospective tenant began her ascent, close upon the heels of the
+concierge, another rather peculiar scene was occurring in the adjoining
+house, the lower floor of which was used as a café.
+
+This establishment, which was not very extensively patronised at any
+time, could now boast of but a single guest. He was seated at a table,
+on which stood a carafe of water, a bowl of sugar, and a glass of
+absinthe.
+
+This patron, who had entered the café only a few minutes before, was a
+slender, nervous, sunburnt man about thirty years of age. He had
+strongly marked features, and was exceedingly quick in his movements. He
+picked up several newspapers in swift succession, and pretended to
+glance over them as he smoked his cigar, but his mind was evidently not
+upon what he was reading, that is, if he was reading at all, and at
+last, flinging the journal violently down upon the table, he called the
+waiter in a curt, peremptory tone.
+
+The waiter, a gray-haired man, hastened to respond to the summons.
+
+"Bring me a glass of absinthe, waiter," said the man with the cigar.
+
+"But your glass is still full, monsieur."
+
+"True."
+
+The man drained the glass, and the waiter refilled it.
+
+"Would you like to make a hundred sous?" asked the man with the cigar.
+
+And seeing the waiter gaze at him in astonishment, he repeated, in an
+even more brusque fashion:
+
+"I ask you if you want to make a hundred sous?"
+
+"But, monsieur--"
+
+"Do you or do you not? Answer me."
+
+"I should like to very much, but what am I to do, monsieur?"
+
+"Answer the questions I am going to put to you. Have you been here
+long?"
+
+"Ever since the café opened, about ten years ago."
+
+"Do you live here in the house?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur. I have a room in the fifth story."
+
+"Do you know all the inmates of the house?"
+
+"Either by name, or by sight, yes, monsieur, but that is all. I am the
+only waiter here, and I have no time to visit."
+
+After a moment of painful hesitation, during which the stranger's
+features betrayed the most poignant anxiety, he said to the waiter, in a
+slightly husky voice:
+
+"Who lives on the fourth floor?"
+
+"A lady, monsieur."
+
+"Nobody else?"
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+"Is she a widow?"
+
+"I don't know, monsieur. She calls herself Madame Luceval, that is all I
+can tell you."
+
+"But you must understand that if I am to give you a hundred sous, I
+expect you to tell me something."
+
+"One can tell only what one knows, monsieur."
+
+"Of course, that is understood. But now answer me frankly. What do the
+people in the house think of this lady--this Madame--What did you call
+her?"
+
+"Madame Luceval, monsieur. A person would have to be very spiteful to
+gossip about her, for nobody ever sees her."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She always goes out at four o'clock in the morning, summer and winter,
+and though I never get to bed before midnight, I always hear her come in
+after I do."
+
+"Impossible!" exclaimed the man with the cigar, manifesting quite as
+much astonishment as the lady in mourning had done on hearing of M.
+Renaud's early hours. "The lady goes out at four o'clock every morning,
+you say?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur. I hear her close her door."
+
+"It passes my comprehension," muttered the man with the cigar. Then,
+after a moment's reflection, he added:
+
+"What does this lady do to take her out so early?"
+
+"I have no idea, monsieur."
+
+"But what do the people in the house think of it?"
+
+"Nothing, monsieur."
+
+"Nothing! Do you mean that they see nothing remarkable about a lady
+going out at four o'clock in the morning?"
+
+"When Madame Luceval first came here, about four years ago, her manner
+of living did seem rather peculiar, but people soon ceased to trouble
+themselves about it; for, as I told you just now, nobody ever sees her,
+so people forget all about her, though she is wonderfully pretty."
+
+"If she is so pretty, she must have a lover, of course," said the
+stranger, with a sarcastic smile, but as if the words, somehow, burned
+his tongue.
+
+"I have heard persons say that this lady never has a visitor, monsieur."
+
+"But when she returns home so late at night, she does not return alone,
+I fancy."
+
+"I cannot say whether any one accompanies her to the house or not, but I
+do know that no man ever crosses her threshold."
+
+"She is really a paragon of virtue, then?"
+
+"She certainly seems to be, and I am sure that everybody in the house
+will tell you the same thing that I do."
+
+"Do you know what her resources are? What she lives on, in short?"
+
+"I haven't the slightest idea, though it is not at all likely that she
+lives on her income, monsieur. Rich people don't get up at that hour,
+especially on a morning like this, when the cold cuts you like a knife,
+and the clock in the Luxembourg was striking half-past three when I
+heard the lady leave her room this morning."
+
+"It is strange, passing strange! It seems to me I must be dreaming,"
+muttered the gentleman. Then--
+
+"Is that all you know?" he asked aloud.
+
+"That is all, monsieur. But I can vouch for it that nobody in the house
+knows any more."
+
+The man with the cigar remained silent and thoughtful for a few minutes,
+during which he sipped his second glass of absinthe abstractedly, then,
+throwing a foreign gold coin on the table, he said:
+
+"Take out the amount of my bill, and keep one hundred sous for yourself.
+Your money was very easily earned, it strikes me."
+
+"I did not ask you for the money, monsieur, and if you--"
+
+"I mean what I say. Pay yourself, and don't talk any more about it."
+
+After he had received the change due him the stranger left the café.
+Almost at the same instant, the lady dressed in mourning came out of the
+adjoining house, and started down the street in the opposite direction
+from that which the gentleman had taken.
+
+As they passed each other, their eyes met. The man paused for an
+instant, as if the sight of this woman aroused some vague recollection,
+then, thinking his memory must have deceived him, he walked on up the
+street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A STRANGE MEETING.
+
+
+But before the man with the cigar had gone a dozen yards, his first
+impression reasserted itself so vividly that he turned, almost
+involuntarily, to take another look at the lady in mourning.
+
+She, too, turned almost simultaneously, but seeing that the man she had
+noticed had done the same thing, she hastily turned her head and walked
+on at a rather more rapid pace. Nevertheless, as she crossed the street
+to enter the garden of the Luxembourg, she could not resist the
+temptation to cast another quick glance behind her, and, as she did so,
+she saw that the man with the cigar was still standing in the same place
+watching her. Angry at having been caught in the act of thus violating
+the rules of good breeding a second time, she hastily lowered her black
+veil, and, quickening her pace still more, entered the garden. The man
+with the cigar, after a moment's hesitation, hurriedly retraced his
+steps, and, on reaching the entrance to the garden, saw the young woman
+some distance ahead of him in the broad path leading to the Observatory.
+
+One of those peculiar instincts which often apprise us of things that we
+cannot see made the young woman feel almost certain that she was
+followed. She hesitated a long time before she could make up her mind to
+again satisfy herself of the fact, however; but she was about to yield
+to the temptation when she heard hurried footsteps behind her, then some
+one passed her.
+
+It was the man with the cigar. He walked on until he was about twenty
+yards ahead of her, then turned, resolutely approached the young woman,
+and raising his hat, said, with perfect politeness:
+
+"Madame, I ask a thousand pardons for thus accosting you."
+
+"I have not the honour of knowing you, monsieur."
+
+"Permit me to ask a single question, madame?"
+
+"Really, monsieur--"
+
+"I should not be under the necessity of asking you this question if I
+could be fortunate enough to see your veil lifted."
+
+"Monsieur--"
+
+"Pray do not think that I am actuated by any impertinent curiosity,
+madame. I am incapable of such rudeness; but as I passed you on the Rue
+de Vaugirard, a few minutes ago, it seemed to me that I had met you
+before, and under very peculiar circumstances."
+
+"And I must confess that I, too, thought--"
+
+"You had met me before?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"In Chili, was it not?"
+
+"About eight months ago?"
+
+"A few miles from Valparaiso?"
+
+"About nightfall?"
+
+"On the borders of a lake. A party of bandits had attacked your
+carriage, madame."
+
+"The approach of a party of travellers mounted upon mules, whose bells
+could be heard a long distance off, frightened the scoundrels away. This
+party which had just left Valparaiso met us--"
+
+"Precisely as I met you on the Rue de Vaugirard, a few minutes ago,
+madame," said the man, smiling; "and to ensure your safety, one of the
+gentlemen of the party, with three of his escort, decided to accompany
+your carriage as far as the nearest village."
+
+"And this traveller was you, monsieur. I remember you perfectly now,
+though I had the pleasure of seeing you only for a few moments, and in
+the dusk, as night comes on so quickly in Chili."
+
+"And it was very dark by the time we reached the village of--of
+Balaméda, if my memory does not play me false, madame."
+
+"I do not remember the name of the village, monsieur, but what I do, and
+what I always shall remember, is your extreme kindness; for after you
+had escorted us to the village, you had to make great haste to overtake
+your party, which was travelling northward, it seems to me."
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"And you overtook your friends without any unpleasant accident, I trust?
+We felt very uneasy on that score, the roads along those precipices are
+so dangerous; besides, those same bandits might still be lurking behind
+the rocks."
+
+"My return was made in the most peaceful manner. My mule only had to
+quicken his pace a little, that is all."
+
+"You must admit, monsieur, that it is very singular that an acquaintance
+made in the wilds of Chili should be renewed in the garden of the
+Luxembourg."
+
+"It is, indeed, madame. But I see that it is beginning to snow. Will you
+permit me to offer you my arm and a shelter under my umbrella, until we
+can reach the nearest cab-stand?"
+
+"I really fear that I am trespassing too much on your kindness," replied
+the lady, accepting the proffered courtesy, nevertheless.
+
+Arm in arm, they accordingly directed their steps towards the cab-stand
+near the Odéon. They found but one vehicle there. The young woman
+entered it, but her companion, from delicacy, seemed in doubt as to
+whether he should or should not follow her.
+
+"What are you waiting for, monsieur?" the lady asked, affably. "There
+are no other carriages here; will you not make use of this one?"
+
+"I scarcely dared to ask such a favour," replied the gentleman, eagerly
+availing himself of the permission thus accorded. Then--
+
+"What address shall I give the coachman?" he added.
+
+"Ask him to take me where the Rue de Rivoli intersects the Place de la
+Concorde," replied the lady, with some slight embarrassment. "I will
+wait under the arcade there until it stops snowing, as I have some
+business to attend to in that locality."
+
+This order given, the coachman turned his horses' heads towards the
+right bank of the Seine.
+
+"Do you know, I think our meeting more and more marvellous," remarked
+the young woman.
+
+"While I admit that the meeting is singular, it seems to me even more
+agreeable than singular."
+
+"No compliments, if you please, monsieur. They do very well for people
+who have nothing else to say to each other; and I confess that if you
+are inclined to gratify my curiosity, you will not have answered half
+the questions I want to put to you, when the time comes for us to
+separate."
+
+"You should not tell me that; I shall be sure to become very diffuse in
+my style of conversation, in the hope that your curiosity--"
+
+"Will inspire me with the desire to meet you a second time, if you do
+not tell me all to-day. Is that what you mean?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+The lady smiled faintly, then she continued:
+
+"But in order that we may take things in their natural course, tell me
+first what you were going to do in the northern part of Chili. I was
+returning from there myself, when I met you, eight months ago, and, as I
+know it is a region little frequented by travellers, you will understand
+and excuse a question which might otherwise sound too inquisitive,
+perhaps."
+
+"Before answering this question, madame, it is absolutely necessary that
+I should give you some insight into my character; otherwise, you might
+mistake me for a madman."
+
+"And why, monsieur?"
+
+"Because I am possessed--devoured, perhaps, would be a better word--by
+such a continual desire to be moving, that for several years past,
+especially, I have not been able to remain a month in the same place. In
+short, I have a passion, perhaps I ought rather to say a positive mania,
+for travel."
+
+"Strange to say, I, too, experience the same unconquerable restlessness,
+the same longing to be continually on the go, the same intense aversion
+to repose, and, like you, I, myself, have found a most welcome diversion
+in travel, for several years past," the young woman responded,
+smothering a sigh.
+
+"So you, too, madame, have a horror of the dull, lethargic, monotonous
+life which reminds one of that of an oyster on his bank, or of a snail
+in his shell?"
+
+"To me torpor and immobility are death itself, yes, worse than death,
+for, unfortunately, one must be conscious of this apathy of mind and
+body."
+
+"And yet, there are persons--one can scarcely call them living
+beings--who would gladly remain for months, and even years, in the same
+place, lost in a sort of dreamy ecstasy, and enjoying what they style
+the charm of _dolce far niente_."
+
+"Yes, monsieur, yes; there are such people, as I know only too well."
+
+"So you have had a like experience, madame? So you, too, have seen how
+hopelessly intractable such persons are,--how they will eventually
+triumph over the strongest wills?"
+
+And the two gazed at each other in a sort of bewilderment, so astonished
+were they by this strange similarity in their experiences.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+CONTRADICTIONS.
+
+
+The young woman was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Let us drop the subject, monsieur," she said, sighing heavily. "It
+arouses too many painful recollections."
+
+"Yes, let us drop it, madame, for I, too, am tortured by many painful
+recollections from which I am ever striving to escape, for it is
+cowardly and degrading to permit one's mind to dwell continually upon
+persons one hates and despises. Ah, madame, I sincerely hope you may
+never know that mixture of regret, aversion, and love, which renders
+one's life for ever miserable."
+
+The young woman listened to her companion with profound astonishment,
+for, when he spoke of himself, it seemed as if he must also be speaking
+of her, so identical had been their experience; but the reserve which
+she must necessarily display in her intercourse with a comparative
+stranger, prevented any such admission on her part; so, quite as much to
+conceal her real feelings as to gratify her growing curiosity, she
+remarked:
+
+"You speak of mingled aversion and love, monsieur. How can one both love
+and hate the same person or thing? Is such a strange contradiction
+possible?"
+
+"Ah, madame, is not the human heart the greatest of mysteries,--the
+strangest of enigmas? Ever since the world began, the inexplicable
+attraction which opposites have for each other has been admitted. How
+often we see a person who is weak admire one who is strong, and one who
+is violent and impetuous seek out one who is gentle and timid! What is
+the cause of this? Is it the desire for a contrast? Or, is it the charm
+of overcoming a certain difficulty? Nobody knows. The fact remains that
+persons whose characters are diametrically opposed to our own exercise
+an inexplicable attraction over us,--inexplicable, yes; for we curse
+them, we pity them, we despise them, and we hate them; and yet, we can
+not do without them; or, if they escape us, we regret them as much as we
+hate them, and forthwith begin to dream of the impossible, that is to
+say, of acquiring sufficient influence over them to transform them, to
+imbue them with our own ideas and tastes. Dreams, idle dreams these are,
+of course, which only serve to make us forget the sad reality for a
+brief time."
+
+"I, too, have often heard of these strange contradictions. They are the
+more incomprehensible to me, as the only chance of happiness seems to me
+to consist in perfect congeniality of temperament."
+
+The young woman paused suddenly, and blushed, deeply regretting words
+which might be construed as an advance made to a comparative stranger
+(though this had really been furthest from her thoughts), especially
+after both she and he had commented on the remarkable similarity in
+their tastes. But this fear on her part was entirely unnecessary, as the
+turn the conversation had taken seemed to have plunged her companion
+into a profound reverie.
+
+A few minutes afterwards, the carriage stopped at the corner of the Rue
+de Rivoli, and the driver got down from the box to open the door.
+
+"What! are we here already?" exclaimed the stranger, arousing himself;
+then, motioning the coachman to close the door again, he said:
+
+"I sincerely hope you will pardon me for having made such poor use of
+the last few minutes of the interview you have been kind enough to grant
+me, but I yielded almost unconsciously to the influence of certain
+memories. You will not refuse, I trust, to indemnify me by permitting
+me to see you again, and to have the honour of calling on you at your
+own home."
+
+"What you ask, monsieur, is impossible for quite a number of reasons."
+
+"Do not refuse my request, I beg of you. There seem to be so many points
+of similarity in our lot; besides, there are still many things I would
+like to tell you in relation to my South American journey, and the cause
+of it. Our meeting, too, has been so extraordinary, that I feel sure all
+these reasons will decide you to grant the favour I ask, though I should
+not dare to insist in the name of the very slight service which I was so
+fortunate as to be able to render you, and which you are extremely kind
+to even remember."
+
+"I am not ungrateful, believe me, monsieur. I admit, too, that it would
+give me great pleasure to see you again, and yet, I shall probably be
+obliged to renounce this hope."
+
+"Ah, madame--"
+
+"Well, I will propose this, monsieur. To-day is Monday--"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"Be here under the arcade at noon on Thursday."
+
+"I will, madame, I will."
+
+"If I am not here at the end of an hour,--which is more than
+probable,--we shall never see each other again, monsieur."
+
+"But why do you say that, madame?"
+
+"It is impossible for me to explain now, monsieur; but, whatever
+happens, you must rest assured that I have been very glad of an
+opportunity to thank you for a service I shall always remember with
+gratitude."
+
+"What, madame, I may never see you again, yet I am leaving you without
+even knowing your name."
+
+"If we are never to meet again, monsieur, what is the use of knowing my
+name? If, on the contrary, we do meet here again on Thursday I will
+tell you who I am, and, if you still desire it, we will continue the
+acquaintance begun in a different hemisphere, and renewed by an
+unexpected meeting."
+
+"I thank you for this hope, madame, uncertain though it be. I will not
+insist further, so farewell,--until Thursday, madame."
+
+"Until Thursday, monsieur."
+
+And the two separated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+NEAR NEIGHBOURS.
+
+
+The morning after this interview between these two travellers who had
+met in Chili, the following scene occurred in the fourth story of house
+Number 57, on the Rue de Vaugirard.
+
+It was quarter of four, but a remarkably handsome young man was already
+writing by the light of a shaded lamp.
+
+Need we say that this young man was M. Michel Renaud, the model tenant
+who left home regularly every morning at four o'clock and never returned
+before midnight.
+
+He was engaged in copying into one of those big leather-bound books,
+used in business houses, a long row of figures and entries from some
+carelessly kept day-books, and more than once this uninteresting,
+monotonous work seemed to benumb both brain and hands, but he bravely
+overcame the inclination to sleep, wrapped the blanket in which he had
+enveloped his legs and feet more closely around him, blew on his fingers
+to warm them, for there was not a spark of fire in the little room, and
+then resumed his work.
+
+In spite of this uncongenial employment, pursued amid such uncomfortable
+surroundings, Michel's face was serene, even happy; but when the clock
+in a neighbouring church rang out the third quarter of an hour, it was
+with the smiling, affectionate expression of a person who is about to
+bid a dear friend good morning that the young man rose from the table
+and, hastening towards the fireplace, rapped twice with the handle of
+his pocket-knife upon the party wall that separated the house in which
+he lived from the adjoining house.
+
+Two similar raps answered him almost instantly, and Michel smiled with a
+satisfied air, as if the most agreeable remark conceivable had been
+addressed to him. He was preparing to reply, doubtless, in fact he had
+already lifted the handle of his knife for that purpose, when a faint,
+almost mysterious knock, followed by two louder ones, reached his ear.
+
+Michel's face flushed, and his eyes brightened. One would have supposed
+that he had received a favour as precious as it was unexpected, and it
+was with an expression of intense gratitude that he replied with a
+series of quick, irregular raps, as hurried and feverish as the violent
+throbbings of his own heart.
+
+This rapping would doubtless have been prolonged several seconds with
+ever increasing ardour, if it had not been suddenly checked by a single
+incisive knock which resounded from the other side of the wall like an
+imperative command. Michel obeyed this order respectfully, and
+immediately suspended his rather too lively manifestation of delight.
+
+A moment afterwards, four slow, distinct knocks, prolonged like the
+striking of a clock, coming from the other side of the wall, put an end
+to this singular conversation quite worthy of a lodge of freemasons.
+
+"She is right," murmured Michel. "It is almost four o'clock."
+
+And he immediately set to work to arrange his books and put his room in
+order before leaving it for the day.
+
+While he is engaged in these preparations for departure we will conduct
+the reader up to the fourth floor of the adjoining house,--Number
+59,--and into the apartment of Madame de Luceval, separated, as we have
+before remarked, from that of Michel Renaud by a party wall.
+
+That young lady is now about twenty-one years of age, and as charming as
+ever, though not quite as stout. She, too, like her neighbour, was
+busily engaged in her preparations for departure.
+
+A lamp, like that used by engravers who work at night, stood on a large
+table strewn with several partially coloured lithographs, boxes of
+water-colour paints, pieces of embroidery and tapestry work, and a
+number of those music-books into which orchestral scores are copied.
+Several of these last were already filled. The plainly furnished room
+was exquisitely neat, and Florence's hat and cloak were already laid out
+on the carefully made bed.
+
+More than once, as she deftly arranged her water-colours, music scores,
+and needlework in their respective boxes, the young woman blew upon her
+dainty rosy fingers, the cold in this room being quite as intense as in
+her neighbour's, for in this room, too, there was no fire.
+
+There was a great difference between this life and the life she had led
+in her husband's luxurious home, where everything had combined to
+encourage the indolence in which she so delighted; and yet, she looked
+far more happy than when, half reclining in her comfortable armchair,
+with her feet resting upon a big velvet cushion, she idly watched the
+sunbeams rioting in her beautiful garden, and dreamily listened to the
+soft murmur of the fountain. In short, this once indolent creature, who
+thought a drive in a luxurious carriage entirely too fatiguing, did not
+seem to regret her vanished splendour in the least, but blithely hummed
+a merry tune as she drew on her overshoes and took a small umbrella from
+the cupboard, ready to brave snow, wind, and cold without a murmur.
+
+These preparations for departure concluded, Florence cast a hasty glance
+in the mirror, passed her hand over the waves of golden hair,--hair
+which was as smooth and glossy, in spite of her early toilet, as if a
+maid had spent an hour over the young woman's coiffure; then, throwing
+her body slightly backward, she stretched out her arms and allowed her
+graceful head to sink languidly upon her left shoulder, giving at the
+same time a little yawn that said as plainly as any words:
+
+"Ah, how pleasant it would be to stay in a nice, comfortable bed,
+instead of going out in the cold at four o'clock in the morning!"
+
+But the next moment, as if reproaching herself for her weakness,
+Florence hastily donned her hat and cloak, picked up her umbrella,
+lighted her candle, extinguished the lamp, and went swiftly but lightly
+down-stairs.
+
+The clock in the Luxembourg was just striking four.
+
+"Dear me! it is four o'clock already," she murmured, as she reached the
+foot of the last flight of stairs; then, in her clear, young voice, she
+called out:
+
+"Pull the rope, please."
+
+And in another moment the door of the house had closed behind her, and
+she was in the street.
+
+It was late in the month of December, and the night was very dark. A
+cold wind was whistling through the deserted street, which was but dimly
+lighted by an occasional street lamp.
+
+As soon as she was out of the house, she gave a slight cough, apparently
+as a sort of a signal.
+
+A louder hum! hum! answered it.
+
+But it was so dark that Florence could scarcely see Michel, who had come
+out a few seconds before, and stationed himself on the other side of the
+street, for it was he who had thus responded to his fair neighbour's
+signal.
+
+Then the two, without addressing so much as a word to each other,
+started down the street,--he on the left side, she on the right.
+
+About half an hour before Michel Renaud left his dwelling, a cab stopped
+a short distance from Number 57. A lady, enveloped in a long pelisse,
+was in this cab. She had said to the coachman:
+
+"When you see a gentleman come out of that house, you are to follow him
+until I tell you to stop."
+
+The coachman, thanks to the light of his carriage lamps, saw Michel
+leave the house, and at once started his horse down the middle of the
+street at a walk. The occupant of the cab kept her eyes riveted on
+Michel, and thus, engrossed in the movements on the left side of the
+street, did not even see Madame de Luceval, who was on the opposite
+pavement.
+
+But Madame de Luceval had scarcely closed the door of her house behind
+her when a man wrapped in a long cloak came rushing down the street, as
+if afraid of being too late for something.
+
+This man had consequently failed to hear the signal exchanged between
+Florence and Michel, nor could he even see the latter, concealed as he
+was by the cab that was moving slowly down the street.
+
+So the man in the cloak began to follow Madame de Luceval, while the
+lady in the cab did not once take her eyes off Michel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A VAIN PURSUIT.
+
+
+Michel and Florence, engrossed in each other, though separated by the
+width of the street, paid no attention to the cab which was moving
+slowly along in the same direction, it being a very common occurrence to
+see such vehicles returning to the stable at that time in the morning.
+
+As the two neighbours reached the corner of the Rue de Tournon, they met
+a crowd of huckster wagons on their way to the market, and the lady in
+the cab finding her progress thus impeded, and fearing she would lose
+sight of the person she was following, ordered the driver to open the
+door, paid him, alighted, and hastened on after Michel. She was half way
+down the Rue de Tournon, when she noticed, for the first time, a man
+wrapped in a cloak, walking only a short distance ahead of her. At first
+this discovery did not disturb her, but subsequently, perceiving by the
+light of a street lamp that a woman was walking a few yards in advance
+of this man, and that this woman was pursuing the same route as Michel
+Renaud, she began to think this very singular, and afterwards her
+attention was naturally divided between Michel, Madame de Luceval, and
+the man who was a short distance behind that lady.
+
+Michel and Florence, whose heads were well muffled up as a protection
+from the cold, had, as yet, no suspicion that they were being followed,
+and walked briskly on towards the little square at the end of the Rue
+Dauphine. The man in the cloak, who had been too much absorbed hitherto
+to take much notice of what was going on around him, now observed for
+the first time that a woman was following a man on the side of the
+street opposite to that on which he was following Florence, and great
+was his surprise when, as this woman passed the lighted windows of a
+liquor shop, he fancied he recognised in her the same lady whom he had
+escorted to the corner of the Rue de Rivoli the previous afternoon, and
+whom he had met months before in one of the mountain passes of Chili.
+
+The woman's tall stature and lithe tread, as well as her mourning garb,
+corroborated these suspicions, and the fact of this double pursuit,
+after their interview of the day before, was too extraordinary for the
+man not to desire to solve this mystery at once, so, without losing
+sight of Florence, he hastily crossed the street, and, approaching the
+mysterious lady, said:
+
+"One word, madame, if you please--"
+
+"You, monsieur!" the lady exclaimed, "is it you?"
+
+Both stood for an instant as if petrified.
+
+The man was the first to recover himself.
+
+"Madame, after what has occurred, and for our mutual benefit, we must
+have a full explanation at once," he exclaimed, hastily.
+
+"I think so, too, monsieur."
+
+"Very well, then, madame. I--"
+
+"Take care! Look out for that wagon!" exclaimed the lady, pointing to a
+big milk wagon that was tearing down the street, almost grazing the
+gutter in which the man in the cloak had stopped.
+
+He sprang aside quickly, but, in the meantime, Florence and Michel had
+reached the square, and disappeared from sight, thanks to the progress
+they had made during this short colloquy between their pursuers.
+
+The woman, noting Michel's disappearance, exclaimed, in accents of
+intense dismay:
+
+"I don't see him any longer! I have lost him!"
+
+These words reminded her companion of the pursuit he, too, had
+momentarily forgotten, and he, too, turned quickly, but could see
+nothing of Florence.
+
+"Let us hasten on to the square, madame; perhaps we can overtake them.
+Here, take my arm."
+
+"No, no, monsieur, let us run, let us run," cried the young woman.
+
+So both ran towards the square at the top of their speed, but when they
+reached it they did not see a living soul in either of the four or five
+narrow streets that diverged from it. Realising how utterly useless it
+would be to extend their search further, the two stood for a moment in
+silence, resting after their run, and again thinking, perhaps, of the
+singular _rapprochement_ between their destinies.
+
+"Really, madame, it makes me wonder whether I am awake or dreaming,"
+exclaimed the man in the cloak at last.
+
+"What you say is perfectly true, monsieur. I really cannot believe what
+I see with my own eyes," replied the lady.
+
+"I feel, madame, that what has happened to us to-day is so inexplicable
+that our mutual reserve should be maintained no longer."
+
+"I agree with you, perfectly, monsieur. Will you give me your arm? I am
+nearly frozen, and what with the surprise and excitement, I am feeling
+far from well, but my indisposition will pass off if I walk a little
+way, I think."
+
+"Which way shall we go, madame?"
+
+"It doesn't matter in the least,--towards the Pont Neuf, perhaps."
+
+As they walked slowly on, the following conversation took place:
+
+"I feel it obligatory upon me to first tell you my name, monsieur,"
+remarked the lady. "It is not a matter of much consequence, perhaps,
+but you ought to know who I am. I am a widow, and my name is Valentine
+d'Infreville."
+
+"Good God!" exclaimed the man in the cloak, stopping short in his
+astonishment. "You Madame d'Infreville?"
+
+"Why do you evince such astonishment, monsieur? My name is not unknown
+to you."
+
+"After all," remarked the man, recovering from the amazement this
+announcement had caused, "it is not surprising that I did not recognise
+you either here or in Chili, madame, for the first time I saw you, four
+years ago, I could not distinguish your features; besides, the
+indignation I felt--"
+
+"What do you mean, monsieur? Do you mean that you had seen me before our
+meeting in Chili?"
+
+"Yes, madame."
+
+"And where?"
+
+"I scarcely dare to remind you."
+
+"In whose house did you meet me, tell me, monsieur?"
+
+"In my wife's house."
+
+"Your wife's?"
+
+"In the house of Madame de Luceval."
+
+"What! You are--?"
+
+"M. de Luceval."
+
+Valentine d'Infreville stood as if petrified in her turn by this
+allusion which awakened so many painful memories; but, after a moment,
+she said, in tones of profound sadness:
+
+"You speak the truth, monsieur. The first and only time we met at Madame
+de Luceval's it must have been as impossible for you to distinguish my
+features as it was for me to distinguish yours. Overcome with shame, I
+concealed my face, and, even now," she added, turning away her head as
+if to escape M. de Luceval's gaze, "I thank Heaven that it is dark."
+
+"Believe me, madame, it is with deep regret that I remind you of a scene
+that was so distressing to you, and to myself as well, for, influenced
+by M. d'Infreville, I--"
+
+But Valentine, interrupting him, inquired, with mingled curiosity,
+uneasiness, and tender interest:
+
+"And Florence; where is she?"
+
+"It was Florence that I was following just now."
+
+"What! That woman was--"
+
+"Madame de Luceval; yes."
+
+"But why were you following her?"
+
+"You are not aware, then--"
+
+"Speak, monsieur, speak!"
+
+"That my wife and I have separated," replied M. de Luceval, smothering a
+sigh.
+
+"But where does Florence live?"
+
+"On the Rue de Vaugirard."
+
+"Great Heavens! How strange!" exclaimed Valentine, starting violently.
+
+"What is the matter, madame?"
+
+"Florence lives in the Rue de Vaugirard, you say. At what number?"
+
+"Number 59."
+
+"And Michel lives at Number 57!" exclaimed Valentine.
+
+"Michel!" exclaimed M. de Luceval, in his turn. "Michel Renaud?"
+
+"Yes, your cousin. He has a room on the fourth floor, at Number 57. I
+had just satisfied myself of that fact yesterday when I met you."
+
+"And my wife lives on the same floor in the adjoining house," said M. de
+Luceval.
+
+Then, feeling Valentine's arm tremble convulsively, he added:
+
+"What is the matter, madame? Are you faint?"
+
+"Pardon me, monsieur,--but it--it is the cold, I think,--that--that
+makes me feel so strangely. I can scarcely stand,--and my head seems to
+be going around and around."
+
+"Have a little courage, madame. Let us try to reach that shop there at
+the corner of the quay."
+
+"I'll try, monsieur," replied Valentine, faintly.
+
+She did manage to drag herself to the store designated, which proved to
+be a grocery store. There was a woman behind the counter, the wife of
+the proprietor, and she took Madame d'Infreville into a room back of the
+store, and gave her every possible attention.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour afterwards, when daylight had come, a carriage was sent for, and
+M. de Luceval took Madame d'Infreville to her home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+TRAVEL UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
+
+
+The events of the morning had upset Madame d'Infreville so completely,
+and she felt so incapable of coherent thought, that she asked M. de
+Luceval to return that evening at eight o'clock, so she could have a
+full explanation with him; so at eight o'clock M. de Luceval sent up his
+card to Valentine, who had taken a suite of furnished rooms on the
+Chaussée d'Antin.
+
+"How are you feeling this evening, madame?" he inquired, with great
+interest, when he was admitted into that lady's presence.
+
+"Better, much better, monsieur, and I sincerely trust you will pardon my
+absurd weakness this morning."
+
+"Was it not very natural, madame, after so many startling revelations
+and occurrences?"
+
+"Possibly, monsieur; at all events, I felt so bewildered that I was
+obliged to ask you to return this evening, that we might have the
+explanation which is now indispensable."
+
+"I am at your service, madame."
+
+"Will you first permit me to ask you a few questions. I will afterwards
+answer yours. You told me that you and Florence were divorced, did you
+not? I was not aware of it before."
+
+"That is not strange, for since that unfortunate evening when I met you
+in my house, neither my wife nor I have heard anything in relation to
+you."
+
+"I will tell you why, monsieur."
+
+"I must first explain that, after the terrible scene in which you and M.
+d'Infreville, and my wife and I, took part, I very naturally felt deeply
+incensed with you. After your departure, Florence and I had a violent
+quarrel. She declared that she would not live with me any longer, and
+that she intended to make her home with you and your mother, that is, of
+course, if you and M. d'Infreville separated."
+
+"Did Florence really intend to do that?"
+
+"Yes, madame, for she always seemed to feel the tenderest affection for
+you. As you may suppose, I told her that such an idea was madness; but
+she, nevertheless, declared that she should leave me, whether or no. I
+shrugged my shoulders, but the separation took place, nevertheless."
+
+"Such firmness of will on Florence's part surprises me very much; it
+accords so little with her habitual indolence."
+
+"Ah, madame, how little you know her! How little I knew her myself! You
+have no idea how the inertia of such a character makes itself felt.
+Prior to the scene in which you were a participant, my wife and I had
+had a slight disagreement. As I have told you, I have a passion for
+travel. It was the desire of my life to make Florence share this
+fondness, for I was very much in love with her, and to explore foreign
+lands in company with a beloved wife was my ideal of happiness. But
+Florence, with her incurable indolence, would not listen to the idea for
+a moment. I was wrong, undoubtedly; I realise it now that it is too
+late. I treated her too much as if she were a child and I the master;
+and though I loved her to idolatry, I thought her best interests and my
+dignity demanded that I should be imperious and severe; besides,--shall
+I confess it?--nervous, quick-tempered, and energetic as I am, her
+mocking indifference drove me almost crazy. The day after I met you in
+her room, she went to your house, but your servants told her that you
+had left in the night with your mother and M. d'Infreville. As time
+passed, and she could discover no clue to your whereabouts, her chagrin
+and grief became intense. I pitied her so much that for some time I said
+nothing about a journey I had contemplated for many months, but finally,
+resolved to overcome my wife's opposition on this subject, I announced
+my intention of visiting Switzerland. I anticipated a lively resistance
+on her part, but I was wrong."
+
+"She consented?"
+
+"'You insist upon my travelling,' she said to me. 'So be it. You have a
+right to do so, you claim. Very well, try it,' she added, with a most
+nonchalant air, 'but I warn you that you will bring me back to Paris
+within a week.'"
+
+"And within a week, monsieur--?"
+
+"I had brought her back to Paris."
+
+"But how did she manage to compel you to do so?"
+
+"In the simplest way in the world," said M. de Luceval, bitterly. "We
+started. At our first stopping-place--I forgot to tell you that we did
+not start until nine in the morning, so she would not be obliged to rise
+too early--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She remained in bed forty-eight hours on the pretext that she was
+overcome with fatigue, remarking to me with an insolent calmness that
+exasperated me beyond measure, 'The law gives you the right to compel me
+to accompany you, but the law does not limit the hours I am to remain in
+bed.' What could one say in reply to this? Besides, how was one to while
+away forty-eight hours in a dingy inn? Picture, if you can, madame, my
+wrath and impatience all that time, unable to extort another word from
+my wife. Nevertheless, I would not yield. 'I can stand it as long as she
+can,' I said to myself; 'she loves her comfort, and two or three such
+sojourns in dingy post-stations will cure her of her obstinacy.'"
+
+"And were these expectations on your part realised?"
+
+"I will tell you, madame. At the end of these two days, we set out
+again, and about three o'clock in the afternoon we stopped in a
+miserable little village for fresh horses. The road had been rather
+dusty, and Florence got out of the carriage and ordered her maid to come
+and brush the dust out of her hair. My wife was conducted to a dingy
+room. The bed was so untidy and uninviting that she would not lie down
+on it, so she made them bring in an old armchair. She established
+herself in that, declaring that, as she was even more fatigued this
+time, she would not stir out of that room for four days. I thought she
+was jesting, but such, alas! was not the case."
+
+"What, monsieur, do you really mean that for four days--"
+
+"I did not lose courage until the end of the third day. Then I could
+stand it no longer! Three days, madame, three whole days in that dingy
+hole, trying in vain to devise some means of overcoming my wife's
+resistance. To resort to force, and pick her up and put her in the
+carriage was out of the question. What a scandal it would create!
+Besides, the same thing would undoubtedly have to be done over again at
+the next post-station. Threats and entreaties proved equally futile! And
+we started back to Paris exactly six days after we left it. Bad news
+awaited us. My wife's entire fortune had been left in the hands of her
+guardian, a well-known banker. He had failed and fled the country. I
+experienced a feeling of secret joy. Deprived of her fortune, my wife,
+finding herself entirely dependent upon me, would perhaps be more
+tractable."
+
+"I know Florence, monsieur, and unless I am very much deceived, you were
+disappointed in your expectations."
+
+"That is only too true, madame. On hearing of her loss of fortune,
+Florence, far from manifesting any regret, seemed much pleased. Her
+first words were:
+
+"'I hope you will no longer refuse to consent to a separation now.'
+
+"'Less than ever,' I replied; 'for I pity you, and cannot bear the
+thought of your being exposed to want.'
+
+"'Before I lost my property,' she replied, 'I was rather loath to leave
+you, for I have given up all hope of finding Valentine. That being the
+case, I was fairly content to live on quietly after my own fashion; but
+now, every hour spent in this house is torture to me, and I will endure
+it no longer, so consent to give me back my freedom, and accept your
+own.'
+
+"'But how will you live,--you who have all your life been accustomed to
+ease and luxury?'
+
+"'I asked for ten thousand francs of my dowry when I married,' she
+answered. 'Part of this sum is still in my possession, and it will
+suffice.'
+
+"'But this small amount spent, what will you live on?'
+
+"'That is a matter which does not concern you in the least,' she
+retorted.
+
+"'On the contrary, it does concern me to such an extent that I shall
+save you in spite of yourself, for whatever you may do, I will never
+consent to a separation.'
+
+"'Listen, monsieur,' she said, earnestly; 'your intentions are most
+generous, and I thank you for them. You have many very excellent traits.
+You are the most honourable man that ever lived, but our characters,
+dispositions, and tastes are, and always will be, so entirely
+incompatible that life would soon become intolerable to both of us.
+Besides, this is a matter for me to decide, for, having lost my fortune,
+I should be a burden to you, pecuniarily. Understand then, once for all,
+that there is no power on earth that can force me to live with you
+under such conditions. I consequently beseech you to let us part quietly
+and amicably.'"
+
+"This refusal, painful as it must have been to you, monsieur, really had
+its origin in the noblest sentiments."
+
+"I agree with you, madame, and the generosity Florence evinced, as well
+as the firmness of character and brave resignation which she displayed,
+only increased the love which I had always felt for her even when we
+differed most; so, in the hope that reflection and the fear of a life of
+poverty might yet restore her to me, I protested more energetically than
+ever against a separation, even promising that I would endeavour to
+mould my tastes by hers, but she replied: 'Such self-constraint as you
+propose to inflict upon yourself would transform you into a hypocrite.
+You have your own peculiar temperament; I have mine. All the resolutions
+and reasoning in the world will not change them any more than they would
+transform me into a brunette and you into a blond. The same
+incompatibility of temperament would still exist; besides, on no account
+will I consent to be an expense to you. If I loved you, it would be
+entirely different; so once more, and for the last time, I implore you
+to let us part as friends.' I refused."
+
+"And yet you are separated you say?"
+
+"The separation took place. Florence forced it upon me."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Oh, in the simplest way in the world, and one that suited her indolent
+nature perfectly. Would you believe it, madame? for three whole months
+she never addressed a single word to me, or answered a single question I
+put to her. For three whole months, in short, she never once looked at
+me, or evinced the slightest consciousness of my existence. It is
+impossible to give you any conception of what I suffered,--the anger,
+despair, and positive fury which her mute obstinacy caused me. Prayers,
+tears, bribes, threats, none of these could extort so much as a word
+from her; one might as well have addressed them to a statue. Many a
+time, madame, it seemed to me that my brain would give way, and that I
+should go raving mad in the presence of this obdurate woman. My health
+became greatly impaired. A slow fever set in. This weakened my energy,
+and at last, convinced of the utter hopelessness of further resistance,
+I yielded."
+
+"Good Heavens, how you must have suffered! But you were right. To
+struggle longer against such odds would have been useless."
+
+"Consequently, I accepted the situation; but wishing to avoid scandal as
+much as possible, I consulted my lawyer. He informed me that one of the
+least objectionable grounds for a legal separation was an absolute
+refusal on the part of the wife to live with her husband; so Florence
+left my house and took up her abode in furnished apartments. I
+subsequently had the customary legal summons, demanding her return,
+served upon her. Her lawyer responded to it. The case was brought before
+the court, a decision was promptly rendered, and a legal separation was
+thus effected. My health had become so greatly impaired that my
+physicians thought a long journey my only chance of recovery. Before my
+departure, I gave one hundred thousand francs to my notary, charging him
+to compel my wife to accept the money. In case of refusal, he was to
+inform her that it would always be at her disposal; but this sum of
+money is still in his hands. I left France, hoping to find forgetfulness
+in travel. Far from it, I only realised, more deeply than ever, how much
+I missed my wife. I travelled through Egypt and Turkey, returning
+through the Illyrian provinces, and afterwards sailed from Venice for
+Cadiz, from which port I reëmbarked for Chili, where I met you, madame.
+After an extended tour through the West Indies, I sailed for Havre,
+where I landed only a few days ago. From inquiries concerning Florence,
+instituted as soon as I reached Paris, I learned that she was living on
+the Rue de Vaugirard. And yesterday when we met, I had just been
+endeavouring to obtain more definite information in relation to her,
+through a person who lives in the same house."
+
+"And did you succeed, monsieur?"
+
+"She must be in very straitened circumstances financially, for she has
+only one room on the fourth floor, and keeps no servant. Besides, her
+conduct is irreproachable. I am told that she has never been known to
+receive a visitor, but from some strange whim, which seems doubly
+incomprehensible when I remember her former indolent habits and love of
+ease, she goes out every morning before four o'clock, and never returns
+until midnight."
+
+"Exactly like Michel!" exclaimed Valentine, unable to conceal her
+surprise and growing uneasiness. "How strange!"
+
+"What do you mean, madame?"
+
+"Why, yesterday, I discovered that M. Michel Renaud lives on the fourth
+floor, in Number 57, and that, like Florence, he goes out at four
+o'clock every morning, and never returns before midnight."
+
+"What can this mean?" exclaimed M. de Luceval. "Michel and my wife
+living on the same floor in adjoining houses, and going out and
+returning home at the same hour?"
+
+"Does Florence know Michel?"
+
+"M. Renaud is my cousin, and now I think of it, shortly after you left
+Paris, madame, he came and asked me to introduce him to my wife, upon
+whom he afterwards called a number of times. But now I think of it, you
+must know M. Michel Renaud very well yourself, as you feel sufficient
+interest in him to follow him."
+
+"I will tell you all, monsieur," replied Valentine, blushing, "for I am
+as deeply interested in solving this mystery as you can possibly be."
+
+"Ah, madame," exclaimed M. de Luceval, gloomily, "more than once, during
+my long absence, I experienced all the tortures of jealousy when I
+thought of Florence, free! Free! oh, no, in spite of our separation, the
+law gives me the right to avenge the wrong, if the woman who still bears
+my name is guilty, and this man--this man! Oh, if I were sure of his
+guilt, I would challenge him before another hour had passed, and either
+he or I--"
+
+"Pray calm yourself, monsieur," said Madame d'Infreville, "strange as
+all this seems, there is really nothing that implicates Florence in the
+least. This morning she left home at the same hour Michel did, it is
+true; but though it was still dark, and the street was deserted, they
+did not exchange a single word, and held themselves sedulously aloof
+from each other."
+
+"Still they leave home and return at the same hour! Where do they go?
+How do they spend all this time? They undoubtedly meet each other, but
+where?"
+
+"We will solve this mystery. We must and shall. I am as anxious to do it
+as you can possibly be; and in order that you may understand the cause
+of this deep anxiety on my part, I will tell you as briefly as possible
+what my life has been since the day you saw me overwhelmed with shame
+under M. d'Infreville's just reproaches."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+VALENTINE'S STORY.
+
+
+After a brief silence, caused by her embarrassment and confusion, Madame
+d'Infreville, recovering her courage, said:
+
+"When the falsehood, to which Florence's affection for me had made her a
+willing accomplice, was discovered in your presence, four years ago, my
+husband, on leaving your house, took me to his home. I found my mother
+there.
+
+"'We shall leave Paris in an hour in company with your mother, madame,'
+M. d'Infreville said to me. 'I shall take you to one of my farms in
+Poitou, where you will live henceforth with your mother. If you refuse,
+I shall apply for a divorce, and make your disgrace public. I have
+abundant proof of it in the shape of two or three very significant
+letters which I found in your desk. If you give me the slightest
+trouble, I will prosecute you for adultery: I will drag you and your
+lover into the courts, and you shall be forced to drink the cup of
+degradation to the dregs. You will be sent to prison with the lowest of
+your sex, and your mother shall be turned into the street to starve. If
+you wish to escape all this, leave for Poitou without a word. It is not
+from any feeling of generosity or compassion that I make you this offer,
+but simply because I dislike the public scandal such a trial is sure to
+create, but if you refuse I will brave this scandal and ridicule. The
+infamy with which it will cover you will console me for that.'"
+
+"I do not wonder that your husband felt very bitter resentment towards
+you," exclaimed M. de Luceval, "but such language was atrocious."
+
+"I was compelled to listen to it, nevertheless, monsieur, and also to
+accept his terms. I was guilty, and I had an invalid mother, who was
+very poor. We started that same night for Poitou, where my husband left
+me. The farmhouse in which we lived--my mother and I--stood in the
+middle of a forest, beyond the boundaries of which we were never allowed
+to go. I spent eighteen months in this prison, without being permitted
+to write a single letter or hold the slightest communication with the
+outer world. At the end of that time death set me free, I was a widow.
+M. d'Infreville, justly incensed against me, had not left me a sou, and
+my mother and I became terribly poor. I could not earn enough to support
+my mother in any sort of comfort with my needle, and, after a long
+struggle with poverty, she, too, died."
+
+Here Valentine's emotion overcame her, and she was obliged to pause for
+a moment; then, drying her tears, she continued:
+
+"As soon as we returned to Paris, I made inquiries about Florence. I
+could learn nothing definite, but hearing that you had left on an
+extended journey through foreign lands, I thought it probable that your
+wife had accompanied you. A short time afterwards, when hope had almost
+deserted me, I had the good fortune to meet one of my old schoolmates,
+who offered me the position of governess in the family of her sister,
+whose husband had just been appointed consul at Valparaiso. It is
+needless to say that this offer was gladly accepted, and I sailed with
+the family the following week. It was while returning with them from a
+trip to the north of Chili that I met you, monsieur. Shortly after my
+return to Valparaiso, I received letters from Europe informing me that a
+distant relative of my father, an old lady I had never even seen, had
+died and left me a modest fortune. I returned to France to claim it, and
+landed in Bordeaux only ten days ago. Now, monsieur, there is another
+confession I have to make,--one that is very embarrassing to me, but the
+frankness you have displayed makes it incumbent upon me."
+
+And after a moment of painful embarrassment, Valentine, lowering her
+eyes, and blushing deeply, added:
+
+"My companion in--in wrong doing--was--was your cousin, Michel Renaud."
+
+"Some words that escaped you a short time ago led me to suspect as much,
+madame."
+
+"I loved Michel, I loved him dearly, and this love has survived all the
+terrible trials I have undergone. The pleasant excitement of travel
+through an entirely new country served to divert my mind for a time from
+this foolish passion, and to alleviate my sufferings to some extent; but
+my affection for Michel is as profound now as it was four years ago,
+consequently you can realise how thoroughly I must understand and
+sympathise with your regret and chagrin, and how fully I must appreciate
+what you said yesterday about the inexplicable charm which characters
+that are diametrically opposed to our own exert over us."
+
+"It is true, madame, that my somewhat limited acquaintance with my
+cousin, as well as everything I have ever heard about him, convinces me
+that he is one of the most indolent persons that ever lived. In fact, in
+the early days of my married life I used to try to make Florence ashamed
+of her indolence by holding Michel up to ridicule."
+
+"I know them both well, monsieur, and it is impossible to conceive of
+two persons nearer alike."
+
+"And it is this very fact that attracted them to each other, probably,
+though I saw nothing in my wife's conduct to excite the slightest
+suspicion. But they love each other now, madame, they love each other,
+I am positive of it. My natural jealousy does not deceive me."
+
+"Perhaps I ought to share your misgivings, monsieur, but I do not. I
+still doubt the justice of your suspicions, for if I believed that
+Michel had forgotten me, I certainly should not make any effort to see
+him again. But permit me to remind you, monsieur, that both Florence and
+Michel are free, perfectly free. Is she not legally divorced from you?
+What right have you to interfere with her actions?"
+
+"The right of revenge."
+
+"And what good will this revenge do you? If they love each other,
+persecution will only increase their love, without improving your
+chances in the least! No, no, you are too generous to wish to return
+evil for evil."
+
+"But I have suffered so much, madame."
+
+"I, too, have suffered, and perhaps even greater trials are in store for
+me; yet I would rather die than mar Michel's and Florence's happiness,
+if I knew for a certainty that they were happy."
+
+"I cannot boast of an equal amount of resignation, madame. If I find
+that they love each other I will kill this man or he will kill me!"
+
+"If I thought you capable of persisting in this resolve, I tell you
+frankly that I should immediately warn Florence and Michel of the danger
+that threatens them."
+
+"You are wonderfully generous, madame!" retorted M. de Luceval,
+bitterly.
+
+"And you, too, are generous, monsieur, when your resentment does not get
+the upper hand of you. Yes, you, too, are generous. I need no other
+proof than the touching solicitude which you manifested for Florence's
+welfare before your departure from France."
+
+"That was a lamentable display of weakness on my part. Things are very
+different now."
+
+"All I can say, monsieur, is that if you hope to find in me an
+accomplice in the perpetration of a futile and wicked act of vengeance,
+we will end this interview here and now. If, on the contrary, you are
+desirous of discovering the truth in order that you may know whether you
+have or have not any reason to hope, you can count upon me, for, by
+aiding each other, we are almost certain to discover the truth with very
+little delay."
+
+"And if the truth should prove to be that they love each other--"
+
+"Before we go any further, monsieur, give me your word as a man of
+honour that, however painful the discovery may prove to be, you will
+renounce all idea of vengeance and even of seeing Florence again."
+
+"Never, madame, never!"
+
+"So be it, monsieur," said Valentine, rising. "In that case we will
+proceed, henceforth, entirely independent of each other--"
+
+"But, madame--"
+
+"You are perfectly free, of course, to act as you see fit in the
+matter--"
+
+"But pray, madame--"
+
+"It is useless to say any more on the subject, monsieur."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+TIDINGS FROM FLORENCE.
+
+
+Monsieur de Luceval was silent for a moment. A fierce struggle between
+jealousy, his natural curiosity, and his fear that Madame d'Infreville
+might warn Florence as she had threatened, was going on in his breast.
+At last his better nature, aided a little perhaps by this last
+consideration, triumphed, and he replied:
+
+"You have my promise, madame."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, monsieur. A presentiment tells me that this good
+resolution will bring us happiness. Besides, reasoning entirely from
+what we now know--"
+
+"Good Heavens, madame, I should be only too thankful to be able to
+hope!"
+
+"And I think we have good reason to hope. In the first place, if Michel
+and Florence loved each other,--it is useless to mince words,--if they
+were lovers, there is nothing to prevent them from living as man and
+wife in some quiet country village, or even here in Paris, the place of
+all others in which one can live in seclusion, and according to one's
+liking."
+
+"But these adjoining apartments, is it not more than likely that they
+communicate with each other?"
+
+"But what possible object could there be in this secrecy,--these
+precautions so utterly foreign to Michel's and Florence's character?"
+
+"Why, to prevent scandal, madame."
+
+"But if they changed their names and declared themselves man and wife,
+how could there be any scandal? Who would discover the truth? Who would
+have any interest in ferreting it out?"
+
+"Why, sooner or later, you or I, madame."
+
+"All the more reason that they would have changed their names if they
+had felt that they had anything to fear, for so long as they kept their
+names, was it not comparatively easy to find out their whereabouts, as
+we have discovered for ourselves? Besides, monsieur, if they had wished
+to conceal themselves effectually, couldn't they have done it just as
+easily as they have managed to conceal the greater part of their
+existence,--for they spend most of the time away from home, you know."
+
+"And it is that very thing that puzzles me so! Where do they spend this
+time? Where were they going this morning? Florence, who could seldom be
+induced to leave her bed by noon, has been getting up before four
+o'clock in the morning for four years. Think of it!"
+
+"And Michel, too. It is certainly astonishing."
+
+"To what can we attribute this change?"
+
+"I do not know, but the change itself is a very favourable indication.
+It leads me to think that Michel has at last overcome the apathy and
+indolence which were so fatal to his welfare, and which have caused me
+so much suffering."
+
+"You reason very sensibly, madame. If Florence is no longer the indolent
+creature who regarded a drive as entirely too fatiguing, and the
+slightest pleasure trip as positive martyrdom, if the life of privation
+which she has led for the last four years has transformed her, how
+gladly will I forget and ignore the past! How happy my life may still
+be! But, hold, madame, what I fear above all things now, is that I shall
+be such a fool as to hope at all."
+
+"Why do you say that?"
+
+"You have some reason to hope, madame; for you, at least, have been
+loved, while Florence has never known a spark of love for me."
+
+"Because there was such an utter lack of congeniality between her
+character and yours; but if, as we have good reason to believe, her
+character has been transformed by the very exigencies of the life she
+has been leading for the last four years, perhaps what she most disliked
+in you prior to that time will please her most now. Did she not tell
+you, in the heat of your quarrel, that she considered you one of the
+most generous and honourable of men?"
+
+"Nevertheless, I dare not cherish the slightest hope, madame.
+Disappointment would be too hard to bear."
+
+"Hope on, hope ever, monsieur! Disappointment, if it comes at all, will
+come only too soon. But to change hope into certainty, we must first
+penetrate the veil of mystery in which Florence and Michel have
+enveloped themselves. The nature of the relations existing between them
+once fathomed, we shall know exactly where we stand."
+
+"I agree with you perfectly, madame, but how are we to do that?"
+
+"By resorting to the same expedient we employed this morning; by
+following them, though not without exercising much greater precautions.
+The hour at which they leave home makes this comparatively easy, but if
+this mode of procedure proves a failure, we shall have to devise some
+other."
+
+"Possibly it would be less likely to excite their suspicions if I
+followed them alone."
+
+"Very well, monsieur, and if you do not succeed, I will see what I can
+do."
+
+Here an apologetic rap at the door interrupted the conversation.
+
+"Come in," said Madame d'Infreville.
+
+A servant entered with a letter in his hand.
+
+"A messenger just left this for madame," he explained.
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"He did not say, madame. He left as soon as he handed me the letter."
+
+"You may go," said Valentine; then, turning to M. de Luceval, "Will you
+permit me?" she asked.
+
+He bowed his assent. Valentine broke the seal, glanced at the signature,
+and exclaimed:
+
+"Florence? Why, it is a letter from Florence!"
+
+"From my wife?" exclaimed M. de Luceval.
+
+They gazed at each other in utter amazement.
+
+"But how did she discover your address, madame?"
+
+"I have no idea."
+
+"Read it, madame, read it, in Heaven's name!"
+
+Madame d'Infreville read as follows:
+
+     "MY DEAR VALENTINE:--I have learned that you are in Paris, and I
+     can not tell you what happiness it would give me to embrace you,
+     but it is absolutely necessary for me to defer that pleasure for
+     nearly three months, that is, until early in June.
+
+     "If you care to see your old friend at that time,--and I have the
+     assurance to believe that you will,--you must go to M. Duval,
+     notary, at Number 17 Rue Montmartre, and tell him who you are. He
+     will then give you a letter containing my address. He will not
+     receive this letter until the last of May, however; and at this
+     present time he does not even know me by name.
+
+     "I am so certain of your affection, my dear Valentine, that I shall
+     count upon a visit from you. The journey may seem a little long to
+     you, but you can remain with me and rest, and we shall have so much
+     to say to each other.
+
+     "Your best friend, who loves you with all her heart,
+
+    "FLORENCE DE L."
+
+The intense surprise this letter excited can be readily understood.
+Valentine and her companion remained silent for a moment. M. de Luceval
+was the first to speak.
+
+"They must have seen us following them this morning," he exclaimed.
+
+"But how did Florence discover where I am?" said Valentine,
+thoughtfully. "I have met nobody I know in Paris except you, monsieur,
+and one of our old servants, with whose assistance I succeeded in
+ascertaining Michel's address. The man of whom I speak has a sister who
+was Michel's nurse and afterwards his housekeeper."
+
+"But why did Florence write to you, madame, and not to me, if she
+suspected that I was following her?"
+
+"You are mistaken in that supposition, perhaps, monsieur. She may have
+written to me without knowing that you are in Paris."
+
+"But in that case, why does she postpone your visit to her, and why this
+indirect request that you make no attempt to discover her whereabouts
+before the last of May, as she warns you that the person who is to give
+you her address will not know it himself until that time."
+
+"Yes, it is very evident that Florence does not wish to see me until
+after three months have elapsed, and that she has taken measures
+accordingly. Do you suppose that Michel can have had any hand in the
+sending of this letter?"
+
+"It is my opinion that we haven't a minute to lose," said M. de Luceval.
+"Let us take a cab and go to the Rue de Vaugirard at once. If my wife's
+suspicions have been aroused, it is more than likely that she returned
+home during the day and gave some order that may enlighten us."
+
+"You are right, monsieur; let us go at once."
+
+An hour afterwards Valentine and M. de Luceval rejoined each other in
+the cab which had deposited them a short distance from the two
+adjoining houses where their search was to be conducted.
+
+"Ah, well, monsieur, what news?" asked Madame d'Infreville, who, pale
+and agitated, had been the first to return to the vehicle.
+
+"There can no longer be any doubt that my wife suspects the truth,
+madame. I told the porter that I wished to see Madame de Luceval on very
+important business. 'That lady no longer resides here, monsieur,' the
+man replied. 'She came in a carriage about eleven o'clock and took away
+several bundles and packages, at the same time informing me that she had
+no intention of returning again. Madame de Luceval has paid her rent six
+months in advance ever since she came here, and some time ago she gave
+notice of her intention to leave on the first of June. As for the few
+articles of furniture that she owns, she is to let us know what disposal
+we are to make of them.' It was impossible to get anything more out of
+the man. And you, madame, what did you find out?"
+
+"Almost the very same thing that you did, monsieur," replied Valentine,
+despondently. "Michel returned home about eleven o'clock. He, too,
+informed the porter of his intention of leaving the house, and promised
+to let him know what disposition to make of his furniture. He, too, had
+notified the landlord of his intention of giving up his rooms on the
+first of June."
+
+"Then it is on the first of June that they are to be united?"
+
+"But in that case why do they make an appointment with me for the same
+date?"
+
+"Whatever they may say, and whatever they may do, I am determined to
+solve this mystery!" exclaimed M. de Luceval.
+
+Madame d'Infreville's only response was a melancholy shake of the head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AN IDLER'S PARADISE.
+
+
+It was about three months after M. de Luceval and Madame d'Infreville
+met in Paris, when the events we are about to relate occurred at a
+modest villa near the town of Hyères, in Provence.
+
+This villa, which was decidedly bright and cheerful rather than
+pretentious in appearance, stood at the foot of a small hill, not more
+than five hundred yards from the sea. The small garden, half an acre, at
+the most, in extent, and shaded with tall maples and sycamores, was
+traversed by a rapid stream that had its source in a neighbouring
+mountain, and that flowed into the sea, after diffusing a refreshing
+moisture and coolness through the garden. The villa itself, which was a
+pretty white house with green shutters, was embowered in a thick grove
+of immense orange-trees, now in full bloom, which protected it from the
+scorching rays of the sun. A hawthorn hedge enclosed the garden, which
+was entered through a small gate set in posts of rough masonry.
+
+About three o'clock in the afternoon, while the sun was shining with a
+splendour rivalling that of Italy, a travelling carriage, coming from
+the direction of Hyères, stopped upon the brow of the hill overlooking
+the little country-seat, and M. de Luceval, his face pale, and his
+features drawn with anxiety, got out of the vehicle, and assisted Madame
+d'Infreville to alight. That lady, after having paused for an instant to
+look around her, caught sight of the little villa half hidden in the
+grove of orange-trees, and, pointing to it, exclaimed, in a voice that
+trembled with emotion:
+
+"That is the house, M. de Luceval."
+
+"Yes, judging from the directions given us, this must be the place. The
+momentous hour has come. Go, madame. I will wait for you here, though I
+do not know but it requires more courage to remain here in this agony of
+suspense than it does to accompany you."
+
+"Still, remember your promise, I entreat you, monsieur. Let me
+accomplish this painful mission alone. You might not be able to control
+yourself, and, in spite of the solemn pledge you have given me, you
+might--But I can not finish. The mere thought of such a thing makes me
+shudder."
+
+"Do not be alarmed, madame, I shall keep my word, unless--unless--"
+
+"But, monsieur, you have sworn--"
+
+"I shall not forget my oath, madame."
+
+"Let us hope for the best, monsieur. The day for which we have been
+waiting with so much anxiety for three months has come at last. In an
+hour the mystery will be solved. We shall know all, and our fate will be
+decided."
+
+"Yes, yes, our fate will be decided," responded M. de Luceval, gloomily.
+
+"And now _au revoir_. Perhaps I shall not return alone."
+
+But M. de Luceval shook his head gloomily, as Valentine, with a gesture
+of encouragement, started down a narrow footpath that led straight to
+the garden gate of the villa.
+
+M. de Luceval, left alone, paced restlessly to and fro, turning every
+now and then, in spite of himself, to gaze at the pretty dwelling below.
+Suddenly he paused, his face turned livid, and his eyes gleamed like
+coals of fire. He had just seen, a little way from the hedge that
+surrounded the garden, a man clad in a white duck suit, and wearing a
+big straw hat. In another moment, this man had disappeared among the
+rocks that bordered the shore.
+
+Running to the carriage, M. de Luceval drew out from under the seat,
+where he had concealed it from Madame d'Infreville's eyes, a box
+containing a pair of duelling pistols, and with this box in his hand
+started in pursuit of the man.
+
+But before he had gone ten yards M. de Luceval paused, reflected a
+moment, then slowly returned to the carriage, and replaced the box,
+saying to himself:
+
+"There will be time enough for that by and by. I will keep my oath
+unless rage and despair should carry me beyond all the bounds of reason
+and honour."
+
+Then, with his eyes riveted upon the house, M. de Luceval, too,
+descended the path.
+
+In the meantime, Valentine had reached the gate of the enclosure, and
+knocked.
+
+A moment afterwards the gate opened, and a woman about fifty years of
+age, neatly dressed in the Provençal fashion, appeared.
+
+On seeing her, Valentine could not conceal her astonishment.
+
+"What, Madame Reine, you here!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, madame," replied the woman, with a strong Southern accent, and
+apparently not at all surprised at Valentine's visit. "Will you be good
+enough to come in?"
+
+Valentine, seeming to repress a question that had risen to her lips,
+blushed slightly, and stepped inside. The old woman (Madame Reine had
+been Michel Renaud's nurse, and his only servant, even in his palmy day)
+closed the gate, and conducted Madame d'Infreville into the dense shade
+formed by the quincunx of orange-trees, in the centre of which the
+little white villa stood.
+
+"Is Madame de Luceval here?" inquired Valentine, in a slightly husky
+voice.
+
+The old nurse paused suddenly, placed her finger on her lip, as if
+recommending silence on the part of Madame d'Infreville, then motioned
+her to look a little to the left, in front of her.
+
+Valentine stood as if petrified.
+
+She saw before her two bright-coloured hammocks fastened to the gnarled
+trunks of some orange-trees. One of the hammocks was empty. Florence was
+lying in the other. A blue and white striped canopy, suspended over the
+hammock, swelled like a sail in the fresh sea-breeze and imparted a
+gentle swinging motion to this airy couch.
+
+Florence, clad in a thin white gown that left her throat and arms bare,
+was slumbering in an attitude of graceful _abandon_, her pretty head
+resting upon one dimpled arm, while the gentle breeze toyed caressingly
+with the soft ringlets that shaded her white brow. Her left arm was
+hanging out of the hammock, and in the same hand was a big green fan
+which she had evidently been using when sleep overtook her.
+
+Never had Valentine seen Florence look so beautiful and fresh and young.
+Her scarlet lips were half parted, her breathing was as gentle and
+regular as that of an infant, and her features, in their perfect repose,
+wore an expression of ineffable contentment and happiness.
+
+[Illustration: "FLORENCE WAS SLUMBERING IN GRACEFUL ABANDON."]
+
+In the clear waters of the little stream that flowed through the little
+lawn stood a big basket filled with watermelons, purple figs, and early
+grapes cooling in the icy flood, in which two carafes, one filled with
+lemonade of a pale amber hue, the other with ruby-tinted pomegranate
+juice, were also submerged. Upon the soft grass, near the edge of the
+stream, and in the shade, were two big armchairs, several straw mats, a
+number of cushions, and sundry other aids to comfort and _dolce far
+niente_; and lastly, within easy reach of the armchairs, stood a
+table upon which a number of books and papers, a Turkish pipe, a number
+of glasses, and a plate of the small wheaten cakes peculiar to that
+province were heaped in picturesque confusion. To complete the picture,
+one could discern through two vistas in the quincunx, on one side, the
+still, blue waters of the Mediterranean; on the other, the summits of
+the distant mountains, whose majestic outlines stood out in bold relief
+against the azure sky.
+
+Valentine, charmed by the scene before her, stood as if spellbound.
+
+A moment more, and Florence's little hand opened slowly. The fan
+dropped, and, in escaping from the fingers of the sleeper, woke her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+IN CHANGE, UNCHANGED.
+
+
+On seeing Madame d'Infreville, Florence uttered a cry of joy, and,
+springing from the hammock, threw her arms around her friend's neck.
+
+"Ah," she exclaimed, kissing Valentine tenderly, her eyes filling with
+tears, "I was sure that you would come. I have been expecting you for
+two days, and you know the proverb, 'Happiness comes while one sleeps,'"
+she added, smiling and casting a glance at the hammock which she had
+just quitted, "the proverb of the slothful, but a true one,
+nevertheless, as you see. But let me take a good look at you," she
+continued, still holding her friend's hands, but drawing back a step or
+two. "As beautiful, yes, even more beautiful than ever, I see! Kiss me
+again, my dear Valentine. Think of it, four years have passed since we
+last saw each other, and what a terrible day that was! But each thing in
+its own proper time! And first," added Florence, taking her friend by
+the hand and leading her to the brookside, "as the heat is so
+overpowering, here are some of the fruits of my garden which I have been
+cooling for you."
+
+"Thanks, Florence, but I would rather not eat anything now. But now, let
+me, in my turn, take a good look at you, and tell you--I am no
+flatterer, though, as you know--how much prettier you have grown. What a
+colour you have! and how young and, above all, how happy you look!"
+
+"Do you really think so? So much the better, for I should be ungrateful,
+indeed, if I did not look happy. But I understand your impatience. You
+want to talk, and so do I--in fact, I am just dying to! So let us talk,
+but first sit down--here, in this armchair. Now put this ottoman under
+your feet, and take this cushion to lean against. One can not make
+oneself too comfortable, you know."
+
+"You seem to me to have made great progress in your search for comfort,
+Florence," remarked Valentine, with a constrained smile, more and more
+surprised at her friend's careless air, though their interview, by
+reason of existing circumstances, was really of such a grave nature.
+
+"I have, my dear Valentine. Do you see that little strap attached to the
+back of the chair?"
+
+"I see it, but have no idea what it is for."
+
+"It is to support the head if one wishes."
+
+And adding example to precept, this nonchalant young woman added:
+
+"Don't you see how comfortable it is? But what is the matter? You are
+gazing at me with such a surprised, almost chagrined air," said the
+young woman, suddenly becoming serious. "Well, you are right. You think
+me indifferent to all your past, and I trust now partially forgotten,
+trials," added Florence, in a tone of deep feeling. "Far from it! I have
+sympathised with you in every grief, but this is such a happy, blissful
+day to me that I do not want to mar it by any unpleasant recollections."
+
+"What, you know--"
+
+"Yes, I have known for more than a year of your imprisonment at Poitou,
+your subsequent widowhood and poverty, from which you suffered more on
+your mother's account than on your own. I know, too, how courageously
+you struggled against adversity. But dear me! this is exactly what I was
+afraid of!" half sobbed, half laughed the young woman, dashing the
+tears from her eyes. "And to-day of all days in the world!"
+
+"Florence, my dear friend, I never once doubted your sincere affection."
+
+"Is that really true?"
+
+"It is, indeed. But how did you learn all these particulars in regard to
+me?"
+
+"Oh, some from this person, some from that! I have been leading such a
+busy, active life it has brought me in contact with all sorts of
+people."
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes, I," responded Florence, with a joyous, almost triumphant air.
+
+"Tell me all about yourself. I know nothing about your life for the past
+four years, or at least since your separation from M. de Luceval."
+
+"True, M. de Luceval must have told you all about that, and about the
+strange way in which I managed to make my husband abandon the idea of
+forcing me to travel against my will, and insisting upon my remaining
+his wife whether or no."
+
+"And especially how you insisted upon a separation after you learned of
+your financial ruin. Yes, M. de Luceval told me all about that. He does
+full justice to your delicacy of feeling."
+
+"The real generosity was on his part. Poor Alexandre! but for his
+unceasing peregrinations and his Wandering Jew temperament he would be a
+very nice sort of a man, eh, Valentine?" added Florence, with a
+mischievous smile. "How fortunate that you met him and that you have
+seen so much of him during the past three months. You must have learned
+to appreciate him as he deserves."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Valentine, looking at her friend with
+astonishment, and colouring slightly. "Really, Florence, you must be
+mad."
+
+"I am mad--with happiness. But come, Valentine, let us be as frank with
+each other now as we have always been in the past. There is a name that
+you have been impatient and yet afraid to utter ever since your arrival.
+It is Michel's name."
+
+"You are right, Florence."
+
+"Well, Valentine, to set your mind at rest, once for all, I beg leave to
+inform you that Michel is not, and never has been, my lover."
+
+A gleam of hope shone in Valentine's eyes, but an instant afterwards she
+exclaimed, incredulously:
+
+"But, Florence--"
+
+"You know me. I have never lied to any one in my life. Why should I
+deceive you? Is not Michel free? Am I not free, also? I repeat that he
+is not, and that he never has been, my lover. I do not know what may
+happen in the future, but I am telling you the truth about the present
+as well as the past. Is it possible, Valentine, that you, who are
+delicacy itself, do not understand that if I was, or if I had been,
+Michel's mistress, nothing could be more painful and embarrassing to
+both you and me than this interview, to which I, at least, have looked
+forward with such delight?"
+
+"Ah, now I can breathe freely again!" cried Valentine, springing up and
+embracing her friend effusively. "In spite of the joy I felt at seeing
+you again, I was conscious of such a dreadful feeling of constraint. I
+am relieved of a terrible anxiety now."
+
+"A just punishment for having doubted me, my dear. But you ask me to be
+frank, so I will add that, though Michel and I are not lovers, we adore
+each other, as much, at least, as two such indolent creatures as
+ourselves can adore any one."
+
+"So Michel loves me no longer," said Madame d'Infreville, looking
+searchingly at Florence. "He has forgotten me entirely, then?"
+
+"I think the best way to answer that question is to tell you our story,
+and--"
+
+"Good Heavens! what was that?" exclaimed Valentine, interrupting her
+friend.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Florence, turning her head in the direction in
+which her friend was looking. "What did you hear?"
+
+"Listen."
+
+The two friends listened breathlessly for several seconds, but the
+profound stillness was broken by no sound.
+
+"I must have been mistaken, but I thought I heard a crackling sound in
+the shrubbery."
+
+"It was the wind swaying the branches of that old cedar you see over
+there. Did you never notice what a peculiar sound evergreens make when
+the wind blows?" responded Florence, carelessly. Then she added: "And
+now I have explained this strange phenomenon, Valentine, listen to
+Michel's story and mine."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE STRONGEST OF INCENTIVES.
+
+
+Madame d'Infreville, recovering from the alarm she had felt for a
+moment, again turned to her friend, and said:
+
+"Go on, Florence, I need not tell you with what curiosity, or rather
+with what intense interest, I am waiting."
+
+"Ah, well then, my dear Valentine, one thing my husband cannot have told
+you, as he was not aware of the fact, is that I received a letter from
+Michel two days after your departure."
+
+"And the object of this letter?"
+
+"Knowing that you intended asking me to write a note to you conveying
+the impression that we had been spending a good deal of time together,
+Michel, hearing nothing from you, naturally became very uneasy, and,
+discovering you had left Paris in company with your mother, was anxious
+to ascertain where you had gone."
+
+"Indeed. So my disappearance really disturbed him to that extent?" said
+Valentine, with mingled bitterness and incredulity.
+
+"Yes, it did, and thinking I might be able to give him some information
+on the subject, he wrote asking permission to call on me, which, as he
+was my husband's cousin, seemed so natural that I consented."
+
+"But your husband?"
+
+"Oh, he, being ignorant that Michel was the object of the passion which
+had been your ruin, made no objection."
+
+"Yes; M. de Luceval was not aware of that fact until I told him."
+
+"So Michel called, and I told him of the distressing scene that I had
+witnessed. His grief touched me, and we both resolved to make every
+possible effort to find you; a resolution which, on his part, at least,
+showed no little courage, for you can understand what all this
+prospective trouble and effort meant to a nature like his;
+nevertheless--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Nevertheless, he exclaimed, naïvely: 'Ah, whether I find her or not,
+this is the last love affair I ever intend to have!' A feeling which
+corresponded exactly with that which I once expressed to you in relation
+to the misery of having a lover, so I must say that I considered this
+resolve a mark of good sense on his part, though I encouraged him in his
+determination to find you if possible."
+
+"And did he really make any efforts in that direction?"
+
+"He did, with an energy that amazed me. He kept me fully advised of his
+progress, but, unfortunately, the precautions your husband had taken
+rendered all our efforts unavailing; besides, neither of us received any
+letter or message from you."
+
+"Alas! Florence, no prisoner on a desert island was ever more completely
+isolated than I. Surrounded by M. d'Infreville's devoted henchmen, the
+sending of any letter was an impossibility."
+
+"Well, at last we were compelled to abandon all hope of finding you."
+
+"But while you two were thus occupied, you saw Michel quite often,
+doubtless."
+
+"Necessarily."
+
+"And what did you think of him?"
+
+"If I said all the nice things I think of him, I should feel that I was
+sounding my own praises very loudly, for every day I became more and
+more amazed at the marvellous resemblance which existed between his
+character, ideas, and tastes and my own. Still, as I was never
+particularly modest so far as my own virtues and attractions are
+concerned, I frankly admit that I thought we were both charming."
+
+"It was about this time that you became so firmly resolved to separate
+from your husband, was it not?"
+
+"Fie, fie!" exclaimed Florence, shaking her finger at her friend. "No,
+madame, the real cause of such a determination on my part was something
+entirely different. Michel and I were both so faithful to our true
+characters, that in speaking of you, and consequently in speaking of all
+the tumults and commotions and worries and agitation which such liaisons
+always cause, we always said to each other in perfect good faith:
+
+"'This is what love leads to, you see, monsieur. One knows no peace, but
+lives ever on the _qui vive_, with one eye and ear to the keyhole, so to
+speak.'
+
+"'And there are bothersome duels with all their attendant scandals,
+madame.'
+
+"'And all the tortures of jealousy, monsieur, and drives in rickety cabs
+in which one is jostled about until one's bones positively ache.'
+
+"'Yes, all this trouble and fatigue, and for what, madame?'
+
+"'You are right, monsieur. I, too, ask for what?'
+
+"In short, if any one could have listened to our moral reflections on
+this subject, he would have been vastly amused. At last came the time
+when M. de Luceval attempted to force me to travel against my will, but
+he finally abandoned that idea."
+
+"Yes, he told me the means you adopted to circumvent him. They were
+peculiar, but certainly very efficacious."
+
+"What I most desired at that time was repose, both mental and physical,
+for though my husband had acted very brutally towards me in that scene
+about your letter, my poor Valentine,--so brutally, in fact, that I had
+threatened to leave him,--I changed my mind after reflecting on the
+subject, for I couldn't bear the idea of living alone, that is to say,
+of having to attend to the thousand and one things my husband or my
+agent had always attended to for me; so I confined my demands to the
+following: I was never to be asked to travel, though I intended to
+encourage my husband to do so as often as possible, so I wouldn't be
+continually worried by his restlessness."
+
+"And so you could see Michel whenever you pleased, I suppose."
+
+"Of course, and without the slightest bother or secrecy,--without any
+concealment, in short, for there was really nothing in our relations to
+conceal."
+
+"But your determination to separate from your husband, at least so he
+told me, was ostensibly due to your loss of fortune. Was that the real
+cause?"
+
+"Yes. You see, Valentine, I could not bear the idea of being henceforth
+in my husband's power,--of accepting wages from him, so to speak! No; I
+remembered too well the humiliation you, a penniless girl, had suffered
+from having married a rich man, and the mere thought of such a life was
+revolting alike to my delicacy and my natural indolence."
+
+"Your indolence? What on earth do you mean, Florence? Did not a
+separation from your husband necessitate the renunciation of the wealth
+and luxury that would permit you to lead a life of ease?"
+
+"But you forget, Valentine, that if I accepted M. de Luceval's
+wages,--if I remained in his employ, in other words,--I would be obliged
+to sacrifice my tastes to his, to plunge into the feverish maelstrom of
+society, in which he delighted,--to go to the Caucasus with him, in
+short, if the whim seized him, and I preferred death to a life like
+that."
+
+"But your husband loved you so, why did you not endeavour to make him
+sacrifice his wishes and tastes to yours?"
+
+"He loved me, oh, yes, he loved me as I love strawberries,--to eat them.
+Besides, I knew him too well; he could no more change his character than
+I could change mine, and our life would have become a hell. It was much
+better for us to part at once."
+
+"Did you inform Michel of your determination?"
+
+"Yes, and he approved unreservedly. It was about this time that we first
+formed some vague plans for the future,--plans which were always
+subordinate to you, however."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes, certainly. Michel knew his duty, and would have done it, if we had
+succeeded in finding you. While he was making a final attempt in that
+direction, I, on my side, was endeavouring to secure the separation I
+desired. At the end of four months I was legally divorced from M. de
+Luceval, and he started on his travels. Then, and not until then, did I
+see Michel again, as I had requested him to cease his visits until I was
+free. Neither of us had anything from you, so, being forced to renounce
+all hope of seeing you again, we began to consider our plans for the
+future. I alluded a short time ago, my dear Valentine, to the prodigies
+indolence can achieve; I will tell you some of them.
+
+"The point of departure that we took, or, rather, our declaration of
+principles was this," said Florence, with the most solemn but comical
+air imaginable: "'We have but one desire and object in life,--perfect
+rest and peace of mind and body,--all mental and physical effort being
+positively restricted to dreaming, reading, talking, and gazing at the
+heavens, the trees, the streams, the fields and mountains that God has
+made; to keeping cool in summer, and warm in winter. We are too devoutly
+idle to be ambitious, vain, or avaricious, to desire the burden of
+sumptuous living or the fatigue and excitement of a gay social life. The
+requisites for the life of indolence of which we dream are a small house
+that is warm in winter and cool in summer, a nice garden, and a few
+comfortable armchairs, hammocks, and couches, several pleasing views
+within our range of vision so we shall not be obliged to take the
+trouble to go in search of them, an equable climate, frugal
+fare,--neither of us are gourmands,--and a servant. It is also essential
+that the means to lead such a life may be assured beyond the shadow of a
+doubt, so we may never be troubled by any anxiety in regard to pecuniary
+matters.' How were these ambitions to be realised? Prodigies of courage
+and industry must be performed to bring about this much desired
+consummation. Listen and admire, my dear Valentine."
+
+"I am listening, Florence, and I am beginning to admire, too, for it
+seems to me I divine everything now."
+
+"Oh, do not do that, I beg of you; let me have the pleasure of
+surprising you. Well, to resume my story, Michel's old nurse was a
+Provençale, a native of Hyères. She often spoke of the beauty of her
+native province, where one could live upon almost nothing, as she
+declared, often asserting that ten or twelve thousand francs would
+purchase a pretty little cottage on the coast, with a fine orange grove.
+One of Michel's friends had just gone to Hyères for his health; we asked
+him to make some inquiries, and he confirmed all Michel's nurse had
+said. He even told us of such a property a few miles from Hyères, which
+could be purchased for eleven thousand francs; but it was leased for
+three years, and the purchaser could not obtain possession until the
+expiration of that time. Having great confidence in this friend's
+judgment, we begged him to purchase the property, but now a serious
+difficulty presented itself. To purchase the house, and also an annuity
+of two thousand francs a year, an amount that would prove sufficient
+for our wants, we would need about sixty thousand francs."
+
+"But how could you hope to obtain so large an amount?"
+
+"Why, by working for it, my dear," said Florence with a valiant air,
+"working like lions!"
+
+"You, Florence, you work?" exclaimed Valentine, in astonishment. "And
+Michel, too?"
+
+"And Michel, too, my dear Valentine. Yes, we have worked night and day
+at all sorts of avocations for several years. I had six thousand francs
+left out of the ten thousand I had asked for when I married. A friend of
+Michel's undertook to straighten out his affairs, and managed to save
+fifteen thousand francs out of the wreck. Both amounts were carefully
+invested, as we were resolved not to touch a penny of either principal
+or interest, so we might gain the forty thousand francs needed to secure
+our paradise the sooner."
+
+"To think that you and Michel should be capable of anything like this!"
+
+"What, it surprises you?"
+
+"Of course it does."
+
+"But you must remember how terribly indolent Michel and I are!"
+
+"That is the very reason it astonishes me so much."
+
+"But that is the very reason it should not."
+
+"Should not?"
+
+"Certainly. Think what a powerful incentive, what a sharp spur, our
+indolence was!"
+
+"Your indolence?"
+
+"Yes; think what courage and energy and ardour it must excite in your
+breast, when you say to yourself at the close of each day, however
+harassed one may have been, and whatever privations one may have had to
+endure: 'I am one step nearer liberty, independence, rest, and the bliss
+of doing nothing.' Yes, Valentine, yes; and the more fatigued one
+feels, the more eagerly he looks forward to the ineffable happiness he
+hopes to enjoy some day. We are told, you know, that celestial happiness
+must be gained by trials and tribulations here below. The same rule
+holds good in this case, only,--strictly _entre nous_ of course,--I
+would rather enjoy my little paradise here on earth than wait for the
+other."
+
+Madame d'Infreville was so astonished at what she had heard, and she
+gazed at her friend with such a bewildered air, that Florence, wishing
+to give her time to recover from her surprise, paused for a moment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+PAST STRUGGLES.
+
+
+Recovering from her amazement at last, Madame d'Infreville said:
+
+"Really, Florence, I hardly know whether I am awake or dreaming. Once
+more, I ask, is it possible that a person as indolent and fond of ease
+as you have always been could evince such wonderful courage and energy?"
+
+"Ah, I shall be obliged to go into particulars, I see. Have you any idea
+of the kind of life we have led for the last four years,--Michel and I,
+I mean?"
+
+"I was told that you both went out every morning before light, and did
+not return until late at night."
+
+"Oh, dear!" cried Florence, with a merry laugh, "when I remember all
+these things now, how amusing they seem, but there wasn't much fun in
+them then, I assure you. I'll give you the order of exercises of one of
+the last days of my purgatory, as I call it. You can form a pretty
+correct idea of the others from that. I got up at three o'clock in the
+morning, and devoted an hour either to copying music or colouring some
+large lithograph. You ought not to be very much surprised at this last
+exhibition of talent on my part, for you know that, at the convent,
+colouring engravings of the saints and copying music were almost the
+only things I did at all creditably."
+
+"Yes, and it was very clever in you to think of putting these
+accomplishments to some practical use."
+
+"I think so myself, particularly as I often made, in that way, four or
+five francs a day, or rather a night, over and above my other earnings."
+
+"Your other earnings, and what were they, pray?"
+
+"Well, to resume the account of my day: At four o'clock, I started for
+the market."
+
+"Great Heavens! for the market? You? And what took you there, pray?"
+
+"I tended the stall of a dairywoman, who was too fine a lady to get up
+so early. Can you imagine anything more pastoral than a traffic in cream
+and butter and eggs? I received a small commission on my sales, in
+addition to my regular salary, so every year I derived an income of two
+hundred francs, more or less, from this source."
+
+"You, Florence, the Marquise de Luceval, in such a rôle?"
+
+"But how about Michel?"
+
+"Michel? What did he do?"
+
+"Oh, he had all sorts of avocations, one of them being the office of
+inspector of goods at the market. In return for his services, he
+received a salary of fifteen hundred francs, and the profound respect
+and consideration of all the market women and hucksters. His duties were
+over at nine o'clock, after which he went to his office, and I to my
+store."
+
+"Your store?"
+
+"Yes, on the Rue de l'Arbre-Sec, at the sign of the Corbeille d'Or, I
+was forewoman in that large and well-known lingerie establishment, and
+as I can, with reason, boast of both taste and skill in such matters,
+and haven't a peer in the confection of dressing sacks, bathing suits,
+peignoirs, etc., I demanded a good price for my services,--it is never
+well to undervalue oneself,--fifteen hundred francs a year, and
+found,--'you can take me or not, as you please, at that figure.' It was
+also understood that I was never to enter the salesroom. I was afraid,
+you see, of being recognised by some customer, and that might have
+prevented me from securing employment for the rest of the day."
+
+"What! wasn't your day's work ended when you left the store?"
+
+"Ended at eight o'clock in the evening! What are you thinking of?--for I
+had stipulated that I was to be free at eight o'clock so I could utilise
+the rest of the time. For a year I worked at home in the evening, on
+tapestry work or on my water-colours, or copying music, but after that a
+friend of Michel's recommended me to a very aristocratic, but rather
+misanthropical, blind lady, who, being unable to go into society,
+preferred to pass her evenings in listening to reading; so, for three
+years, I acted as reader for her at a salary of eight hundred francs a
+year. I went to her house at nine o'clock, I read to her awhile, and
+then we talked and drank tea by turn. This lady lived on the Rue de
+Tournon, so Michel could call for me about midnight, on his return from
+his theatre."
+
+"From his theatre?"
+
+"Yes, from the Odéon."
+
+"Good Heavens! has he turned actor?"
+
+"You are mad!" cried Florence, laughing heartily. "Nothing of the sort.
+I told you that we both did anything we could find to do, and Michel was
+controller at the Odéon, performing his duties there after he had left
+his desk, where he earned two thousand four hundred francs a year as an
+entry clerk."
+
+"Michel, who was so indolent that he would not pay the slightest
+attention to his own business affairs, in years gone by!"
+
+"And take notice that, after he returned home at night, he used to post
+books and straighten up people's accounts, thus adding considerably to
+his earnings in the course of a year. In this fashion, my dear
+Valentine, and by living with the most rigid economy, going without a
+fire in winter, waiting on ourselves, and even working on Sunday, we
+accumulated the amount we needed in four years. Well, was I wrong when I
+boasted of the wonders indolence could accomplish?"
+
+"I can't get over my astonishment. This seems incredible."
+
+"Ah, but Valentine, as Michel says, 'A love of idleness is often the
+real cause of some of the most laborious lives. Why do so many persons,
+who are neither ambitious nor avaricious, toil with such untiring
+ardour? In order that they may cease work as soon as possible, is it
+not?'"
+
+"You are right, perhaps. At least, I see now that the love of idleness
+may impart wonderful energy to one's efforts, at least for a time. But
+tell me, Florence, why were your rooms and Michel's so close together
+and yet separated?"
+
+"Oh, that arrangement was convincing proof of the most sublime and
+heroic wisdom on our part!" exclaimed Florence, triumphantly. We said to
+ourselves, 'What is our object? To accumulate as quickly as possible the
+amount of money needed to enable us to lead an idle life. That being the
+case, time is money, so the less time we waste the more money we shall
+earn, and the surest way of losing a great deal of time is for us to be
+together. Nor is this all. We used, it is true, to hold in holy horror
+all love that caused one trouble and pain; but now that we are free, and
+there would be no cause for anxiety or self-reproach in our love, who
+knows,--the devil is very cunning, and we might succumb. Then what would
+become of our good resolutions, and all the work we are planning to do?
+All that time, that is to say all that money, lost! For how could we
+hope to muster up the necessary courage to tear ourselves from
+indolence, and from love as well? No, no, we must be inexorable towards
+ourselves, so as not to imperil our future, and swear, in the name of
+Indolence, our divinity, not to speak a word, a single word, to each
+other until our little fortune has been made.'"
+
+"What, during these four years--"
+
+"We have kept our oath."
+
+"Not one word?"
+
+"Not one word from the day we began to work."
+
+"Florence, you must be exaggerating. Such self-restraint is an
+impossibility."
+
+"I promised to tell you the truth, and I am telling it. We have never
+spoken a word to each other during these four years. When any important
+matter or any question affecting our interests was to be decided, we
+wrote to each other; that is all. I must also admit that we invented a
+way to communicate with each other through the wall between our rooms.
+It was a very brief telegraphic code, however. Only extensive enough to
+permit us to say to each other, 'Good night, Michel'--'Good night,
+Florence;' and in the morning, 'Good morning, Michel'--'Good morning,
+Florence;' or, 'It is time to start,' or now and then: 'Courage,
+Michel'--'Courage, Florence; let us think of paradise, and endure
+purgatory as cheerfully as possible!' But even this mode of
+correspondence had to be strictly tabooed now and then; for would you
+believe it? Michel sometimes wasted so much time in tapping upon the
+wall with the handle of his pocket-knife that I was obliged to silence
+the hot-headed creature in the most peremptory manner."
+
+"And did this meagre correspondence satisfy you?"
+
+"Perfectly. Did we not have a life in common, in spite of the wall that
+separated us? Were not our minds concentrated upon the same aim, and was
+not our pursuance of this aim exactly the same thing as always thinking
+of each other? Besides, we saw each other every morning and evening. As
+we were not lovers, that sufficed. If we had been, a single look might
+have been enough to destroy all our good resolutions. Well, a fortnight
+ago, our object was accomplished. In four years we had accumulated
+forty-two thousand eight hundred francs! We might have 'retired,' as
+merchants say, several months earlier; but we said, or, rather, we wrote
+to each other, 'It is not well for persons to crave any more than is
+required to provide them with the necessaries of life; still, we ought
+to have enough to supply the needs of any poor and hungry stranger who
+may knock at our door. Nothing gives greater peace to the soul than the
+consciousness of having always been kind and humane.' This being the
+case, we prolonged our purgatory a little. And now, Valentine, confess
+that there is nothing like well-directed indolence to imbue persons with
+energy, courage, and virtue."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Farewell, Florence," said Madame d'Infreville, in a voice husky with
+tears, and throwing herself in her friend's arms, "farewell for ever!"
+
+"What do you mean, Valentine?"
+
+"A vague hope impelled me to come here,--a foolish, senseless hope. Once
+more, farewell! Be happy with Michel. Heaven created you for each other,
+and your happiness has been nobly earned."
+
+The garden gate closed noisily.
+
+"Madame, madame," cried the old nurse, hastening towards them with an
+unsealed letter, which she handed to Valentine, "the gentleman that
+remained in the carriage told me to give this to you at once. He came
+from over there," added the old woman, pointing to the same clump of
+shrubbery in which Valentine had fancied that she heard a suspicious
+sound, some time before.
+
+Florence watched her friend with great surprise, as Valentine opened the
+missive, which contained another note, and read the following words,
+hastily scrawled in pencil:
+
+"Give the enclosed to Florence, and rejoin me immediately. There is no
+hope. Let us depart at once."
+
+Involuntarily Madame d'Infreville turned as if to comply with the
+request.
+
+"Where are you going, Valentine?" cried Florence, hastily seizing her
+friend by the hand.
+
+"Wait for me a moment," replied Madame d'Infreville, pressing her
+friend's hands convulsively, "wait for me, and read this."
+
+Then giving the note to Florence, she darted away, while her friend,
+more and more astonished as she perceived that the writing was her
+husband's, read these lines:
+
+     "Concealed behind a clump of shrubbery, I have heard all. A vague
+     hope brought me here, and I confess that, when I saw this hope
+     blighted, my first thought was of revenge. But I renounce both the
+     hope and the revenge. Be happy, Florence! I can feel for you
+     henceforth only esteem and respect.
+
+     "My only regret is that I am unable to give you your entire
+     liberty. The law prevents that, so you must resign yourself to
+     bearing my name.
+
+     "Once more farewell, Florence; you will never see me again, but,
+     from this day on, remember me as your most sincere and devoted
+     friend,
+
+    A. DE LUCEVAL."
+
+Madame de Luceval was deeply touched by this letter, which she had
+scarcely finished when she heard the sound of carriage wheels becoming
+fainter and fainter in the distance.
+
+Florence felt that Valentine would never return, and when, just before
+nightfall, Michel came in search of Madame de Luceval, she handed him
+her husband's letter.
+
+Michel, like Florence, was deeply touched by this letter, but after a
+little he remarked, with a smile:
+
+"Fortunately, Valentine is free."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+About two years after these events, the following paragraphs appeared in
+a number of the journals of the times:
+
+     "A correspondent, writing from Symarkellil, says that the ascent of
+     one of the highest peaks of the Caucasus was made late in May by
+     two intrepid French tourists, M. and Madame M----. The latter, a
+     tall and remarkably handsome brunette, donned male attire and
+     shared all the dangers of this dangerous expedition. The guides
+     could not say enough in praise of her courage, coolness, and
+     gaiety. It is said that these two untiring travellers afterwards
+     started across the steppes to Saint Petersburg in order to reach
+     there in time to join Captain Moradoff's expedition to the North
+     Pole. The numerous letters from influential persons which they took
+     with them to the court of Russia lead them to hope that they will
+     obtain the favour they ask, and that they will be allowed to take
+     part in this perilous expedition to the polar seas."
+
+"A correspondent, writing from Hyères under date of December 29th, says:
+
+"A singular instance of extraordinary vegetation lately presented itself
+in this neighbourhood. Rumours of an orange-tree in full bloom at this
+season of the year were current, and as we seemed to doubt these
+reports, a friend, to convince us, took us to a small country-seat on
+the coast a few miles from here. There, in a quincunx of orange-trees,
+we saw, with our own eyes, a superb tree literally covered with buds and
+blossoms which perfumed the air for hundreds of yards around. We were
+more than repaid for the trouble of our journey by the sight of this
+freak of nature, and the cordial welcome given us by the master and
+mistress of the house,--M. and Madame Michel."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+[Illustration: image of the book's back cover]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and
+Indolence, by Eugène Sue
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN CARDINAL SINS: ***
+
+***** This file should be named 38142-8.txt or 38142-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/4/38142/
+
+Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.