The Poor Gentleman Part 2

"That large, rich gentleman, sir, who sits near you every Sunday at high ma.s.s?"

"The same, John. Is there any thing surprising in it?"

"And young Monsieur Gustave, who spoke to _mademoiselle_ in the churchyard when church was over?"

"The same!"

"Oh, sir, they are such rich people! They have bought all the land around Echelpoel. They have at least ten horses in the stable at their _chateau_, without counting those they have in town. Their carriage is silver from top to bottom."

"I know it; and it is exactly on that account that I desire to receive them in a becoming manner. You must be ready; your wife and your son also. I shall call you to-morrow morning very early. You will willingly lend a hand to help me, won't you?"

"Certainly, certainly, sir; a word from you is enough. I am always happy to be able to serve you in any way."

"Thank you for your kindness, John. We understand one another, my worthy fellow; and so farewell till to-morrow."

Monsieur De Vlierbeck entered the farm-house, gave some orders to the young man in relation to the things he had taken from the vehicle, and, pa.s.sing through the screening grove, walked on to Grinselhof.

As soon as he was out of the farmer's sight his physiognomy a.s.sumed a more serene expression, and there was a smile on his lips as he cast his eyes around in search of some one in the solitude of the garden At a turn of the path his eye fell suddenly on the sleeping girl. How beautiful she was in her calm repose! The golden twilight covered her with its bright reflection, and threw a rosy tint on every thing about her. Thick curls strayed in beautiful disorder over her cheeks, and snowy flowers, shaken from the catalpa's branches by the evening breeze, had fallen around her in profusion. She still dreamed, and the happy smile yet rested on her features. De Vlierbeck gazed earnestly at his sleeping child, and raised his eyes to heaven as he said, tremulously,--"Thanks, Almighty Father! she is happy! Let my martyrdom be prolonged; but may all my sufferings render thee compa.s.sionate for her!"

After this short and ardent e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n he threw himself into a chair, leaned his arm carefully on the table, and, resting his hand on it, remained still as a statue. For a long time he watched his sleeping child, while his face seemed to reflect each emotion that flitted across the delicate features of the maiden. Suddenly a modest blush overspread her brow, and her lips began to articulate. The old gentleman watched her narrowly, and, although she had not spoken in connected sentences, he caught one of those stray words which often betoken what is pa.s.sing in a dreamer's mind.

"'GUSTAVE!' She dreams of Gustave. May G.o.d be propitious to us! Ah, yes, my child," exclaimed her father, "open thy heart to hope! Dream, dream; for who knows what is in store for us? Yet, no!--let us not destroy these happy moments by cold reality! Sleep, sleep! let thy soul enjoy the heavenly enchantment of love which it is awakening!"

Monsieur De Vlierbeck continued for a while his quiet observation of the sleeper, and then, rising, pa.s.sed behind her chair and imprinted a long kiss on her forehead.

Still half-dreaming, the sleeper slowly opened her eyes; and, the moment she perceived who had awakened her, she sprang into her father's arms with a bound, and, hanging round his neck, overwhelmed him with questions and kisses.

Vlierbeck gently disengaged himself from his daughter's embrace, as he remarked, in a tone of raillery,--

"It seems altogether unnecessary, Lenora, to inquire what new beauties you have discovered in Vondel's 'Lucifer.' You have not had time, I take it for granted, to begin the comparison between this masterpiece of our native tongue and Milton's 'Paradise Lost'?"

"Ah! father," murmured Lenora, "my mind is indeed strangely troubled. I do not know what is the matter with me; I cannot even read with attention."

"Come, Lenora, my child, don't be sad. Sit down: I have something of importance to tell you. You do not know why I went to town to-day, do you? It was because we are to have company to dinner to-morrow!"

Lenora gazed at her father with an earnest and questioning look.

"It is Monsieur Denecker," continued he:--"the wealthy merchant, you know, who sits near me at church and lives at the _chateau_ of Echelpoel."

"Oh, yes! I remember him, father; he always speaks to me so kindly, and never fails to help me from the carriage when we go to church."

"But your _eyes_ ask, I see, Lenora, whether he is coming _alone_.

_Another_ person will accompany him, my girl!"

"_Gustave!"_ exclaimed the maiden, involuntarily and blushing.

"Exactly! Gustave will be here," replied Monsieur De Vlierbeck. "Don't tremble on that account, Lenora; and don't become frightened because your innocent heart may find itself opening to the dawn of new sensations. Between us, my child, there can be no secret that my love will not discover."

His daughter's eyes looked inquiringly into his own, as if asking an explanation of the enigma. But all of a sudden, as if a ray had darted unexpectedly into her soul, she threw her arms around the old man's neck and hid her face in his bosom.

"Oh, father! beloved father," murmured she, "your kindness is unbounded!"

For some moments the old gentleman did not put aside the affectionate caresses of his child; but by degrees his expression became gloomy; tears started into his eyes, and he said, in broken tones,--

"Lenora, whatever may happen to us in life, thou wilt always love thy father thus, wilt thou not?"

"Always, always, father!'

"Lenora, my child," continued he, with a sigh, "thy tender affection is my only recompense and happiness here below: never deprive my soul of its consolation!"

The sad tone in which these words were uttered touched the maiden's heart so deeply that she took her father's hands, without saying a syllable, and wept in silence with her head in his bosom.

For a long time they remained thus motionless, absorbed by a feeling which was neither joy nor sorrow but seemed to acquire its power and mastery by the mingling of these opposite sentiments.

Monsieur De Vlierbeck's expression was the first to change. His features became severe as he bent his head downward reproachfully. In truth, the strange words that started the tears into his daughter's eyes had excited the reflection in his own mind that another person was, perhaps, about to share his Lenora's love and probably to separate him from her forever. He was ready for every sacrifice, were it even infinitely greater, provided it contributed to the happiness of his child; yet the very idea of separation caused his heart to bleed at every pore. By degrees he stifled this selfish anxiety, and, striving to control himself, raised his daughter with a kiss.

"Come, Lenora," said he, "be gay again! Isn't it a happy thing that our hearts can sometimes get into the shade after they have been too much in the sunshine? Let us go into the house. We have many arrangements to make in order to receive our guests becomingly."

Lenora obeyed her father in silence, and followed him slowly, while the tears still dropped from her beautiful eyes.

Some hours afterward Monsieur De Vlierbeck might have been seen seated in the princ.i.p.al saloon of Grinselhof, near a little lamp, with his elbows on the table. The apartment was dark and dreary, for the feeble rushlight illuminated but a single spot and cast the distant and lofty ceiling into vague obscurity. The flickering flame threw long and sombre shadows over the wall, while a line of old portraits in the panels seemed to fix their stern and immovable eyes on the table. Amid the gloom nothing came out with distinctness but the calm and n.o.ble face of the poor old gentleman, who sat there, absorbed in his reflections, fixed as a statue.

At length, rising from his chair and cautiously walking on tiptoe to the end of the room, he stopped and listened at the closed door. "She sleeps," said he, in a low voice; and, raising his eyes to heaven, added, with a sigh, "may G.o.d protect her rest!" Then, returning to the table, he took the lamp, and, opening a large safe which was imbedded in the wall, he went down on his knees and drew forth some napkins and a table-cloth, which he unfolded carefully to see whether they were torn or stained. As he refolded the articles one after the other, a smile betokened that he was pleased with his examination. Rising from this task, he went back to the table, from the drawer of which he took a piece of buckskin and whiting. Mashing the latter with a knife-handle, he began to rub and polish several silver forks and spoons which were in a basket. The salt-cellars and other small articles of table-service, which were mostly of the same metal, were all subjected to a similar process, and soon glittered brightly in the feeble lamplight.

While he was engaged in this strange work, the soul of the poor old man was busy with a thousand conflicting thoughts and recollections. He was constantly muttering to himself; and many a tear escaped from his lids as he dreamed over the past and repeated the names of the loved and lost!

"Poor brother!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed he; "but one man alone in the world knows what I have done for thee, and yet that man accuses me of bad faith and ingrat.i.tude! And thou, poor brother, art wandering in the icy solitudes of America, a prey perhaps to sickness and suffering, while for months no kindly look is fixed upon thee in that wilderness where thou earnest thy miserable wages! Son of a n.o.ble race! thou hast become a slave to the stranger, and thy toil serves to ama.s.s the fortunes which others are to enjoy! My love for thee has made me suffer martyrdom; but, as G.o.d is my judge, my affection has remained entire,--untouched! May thy soul, O brother, feel this aspiration of mine even in the isolation where thou art suffering; and may the consciousness of my love be a balm for thy misery!"

The poor gentleman was absorbed for some time in painful meditation; but after a while his dream seemed over, and he betook himself again to work. He placed all the silver utensils side by side on the table, and, after carefully counting and examining them, resumed his soliloquy:--

"Six forks! eight spoons! We shall be four at table: it will be necessary to be careful; else it will easily be seen something is wanting. I think, however, it will do. I must give very precise instructions to John's wife, for she is a clever woman, and knows what she is about!"

As be uttered the last words he replaced the silver in the basket and locked it in the safe; after which he took the lamp, and, leaving the saloon on tiptoe, descended through a little door into a large vaulted cellar. Here he hunted about for a considerable time amid stacks of empty bottles, and at last succeeded in finding what he was in search of; but his face became extremely pale as he drew three bottles from the sand.

"Good heavens! _only three bottles!_" exclaimed he; "three bottles of _table_-wine! and Monsieur Denecker is such a connoisseur of vintages!

What shall I do if they ask for more when these three bottles are empty?

I have it! I do not drink, and Lenora drinks very little; so there will be _two_ bottles for Monsieur Denecker and _one_ for his nephew! But, even at the worst, what is the use of anxiety? Let _luck_ settle it!"

With this De Vlierbeck went into the corners of the cellar, where he gathered from the walls a quant.i.ty of cobwebs, which he wound artistically around the bottles and covered with dust and sand.

On reaching the saloon he went to work with paste and paper to mend some rents in the tapestry on the wall; and then, after pa.s.sing nearly half an hour in brushing his clothes and disguising their threadbare spots with water and ink, he came back to the table and made preparations for a task which was still more singular than any he had hitherto been engaged in. Taking from the drawer a silk thread, an awl, and a bit of wax, he put his boot on his knees and began to mend the rents in the leather with the skill of a cobbler! It will readily be supposed that this odd occupation stirred a variety of emotions in the heart of the poor gentleman; violent twitches and spasms pa.s.sed over his face; his cheeks became red, then deadly pale; till at last, yielding to a pa.s.sionate impulse, he cut the silk, threw it on the table, and, with his hands stretched toward the portraits, cried out, with struggling pa.s.sion,--

"Yes! behold me,--behold me,--ye whose n.o.ble blood runs in my veins!

You, brave captain, who, fighting at the side of Egmont, at St. Quentin, gave your life for your country,--you, statesman and amba.s.sador, who, after the battle of Pavia, rendered such eminent services to the Emperor Charles,--you, benefactor of your race, who endowed so many hospitals and churches,--you, proud bishop, who, as priest and scholar, defended so bravely your faith and your G.o.d,--behold me, all of you, not only from that senseless canvas, but from the bosom of G.o.d where you are at rest! He whom you have seen at the wretched task of mending his boots, and who devotes his life to the concealment of his poverty,--he is your descendant, your son! If the gaze of his fellow-men tortures him, before you at least he is not ashamed of debasing toil! glorious ancestry! you have fought the foes of your native land with sword and pen; but I,--I have to contend with unmerited shame and mockery, without a hope of ultimate triumph or glory; my weary soul sinks under its burden, and the world has nothing in store for me but scorn and contempt! And, yet, have I ever stained your n.o.ble escutcheon? All that I have done is generous and honest in the sight of G.o.d;--nay, the very fountain-head of my wo is love and compa.s.sion! Yes, yes!--fix your glittering eyes on me; contemplate me in the abyss of poverty where I am fallen! From the bottom of that pit I lift my brow boldly toward you, and your silent glance does not force me to grovel in the earth with shame! Here, in the presence of your n.o.ble images, I am alone with my soul, with my conscience;--hero, no mortification can touch the being who, as gentleman, Christian, brother, and father, has sacrificed himself to duty!"

His voice ceased; and for a few moments he stood still in the midnight silence, looking at the antique portraits as the last echoes died away in the lofty apartment, with his arms stretched toward the pictures as if invoking the beings they represented.

"Poor, senseless creature," continued he, after a while, clasping his hands and lifting them anew to heaven, "thy soul seeks deliverance in dreams! Yes; it is, perhaps, a dream, an illusion! Yet, thanks, thanks to the Almighty that allows even a dream to fortify me with courage and endurance! Enough: reality once more stares me in the face; and yet I defy the mocking spectre which points to ruin and misery!"