The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence Part 57

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 G.o.d! 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 G.o.d! 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 Blemur, 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 pa.s.sionately, 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 a.s.sured 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, ill.u.s.trious 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 n.o.ble 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, a.s.sisted by Marguerite and old Andre, 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.