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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. 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