MADAME AGNES.FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.CHAPTER XIX.ALBERT’S VISIT.Fanny, after despatching her letter, was filled with an uneasiness that was continually increasing. “Will he get here in season?” she asked herself. “Perhaps mademoiselle will have come to a decision before Albert arrives.”But however partial Fanny might be to her protégé, she could not help seeing that Louis possessed rare qualities. If her interests had not been at stake, she would have confessed at once that he alone was worthy of Mlle. Smithson; but her selfishness kept her wilfully blind.Alas! day after day passed away without result. The wonderful letter Fanny depended so much on produced no effect. Twenty times a day she went from despair into anger.“Such a fine dowry!” she would exclaim. “Such a pretty girl! And he allowing them to slip through his fingers—to fall into the hands of another—and what other!... A spendthrift who will squander her property—a libertine who will neglect his wife!... Ah! she might be so happy with him, and he with her! And I should be so sure of an easy life in their house! What is he doing?... Is he absorbed in trifles, and going to lose such an opportunity? I was right: he is light-headed. But his mother, Mme. Frémin, has sense enough, I am sure, and has longed for this match these ten years: is she asleep too? Or has she changed her mind?...”When the day of the dinner came, of which I have just spoken, Fanny’s distress was unbounded. “The enemy is constantly gaining ground,” she muttered to herself. “Every day Mlle. Eugénie becomes less indifferent towards him. Perhaps they will come to an understanding to-night, and vow to love each other. We are lost! Albert is positively a simpleton!”When Eugénie retired to her chamber, Fanny, quivering with excitement, was there to eye her narrowly, hoping to read the depths of her soul. She saw her mistress was more thoughtful than usual, and began by artfully praising Louis. Eugénie seemed to listen with pleasure. All this caused the wily servant a sleepless night.... When daylight appeared, Fanny had decided on her course. Thissoubrettewas a long-headed woman!“If I had to choose a husband for Mlle. Eugénie,” she said to herself, “I certainly should not select M. Louis. Mademoiselle would be far happier with Albert. As to him, he will never find another equal to her. But I cannot force them to be happy. It is their own affair. Mine is to look out for my own interests.... What do I want?... To secure a pleasant home for the rest of my life. Perhaps this new suitor would give me one.... Is he really as much of a spendthrift, and as overbearing, as I feared at first? I have seen him only a few times, but I know him well enough to see I may have been greatly deceived, and that there is much more in him than I supposed.... Well, that is settled: if Albertis not here in season, if I see the other one is likely to win the day, I shall take sides with him.... But I will make one more sacrifice for the ungrateful fellow whom I have loved so much! I will write his mother again, and wait a few days longer....”She wrote, and did not have long to wait. Albert arrived the next day but one. When he appeared, Fanny almost sank to the ground with astonishment and joy: with joy, because she loved him as spinsters always love when they love at all—with as much strength as selfishness; with astonishment, for she hardly recognized him. She had not seen him for a year and a half. He was then in the third year of his law studies—a young man of sprightly, jovial air, faultless in dress, and fluent of speech, though he only talked of trifles....Quantum mutatus!... He now had a grave air, his dress was plain even to severity, and there was a solemnity in his manner of speaking that confounded Fanny, but which pleased her. What had wrought such a change? She was dying to know, but had to wait to be enlightened on the point till she could see him in private. This could not take place at once. He must renew his acquaintance with his uncle, aunt, and cousin.Albert’s sudden arrival caused some surprise, but not very much, however, for he had promised several months before to come about this time. Mr. Smithson received him with his usual quiet, somewhat cool regard. He looked upon his nephew as frivolous, and for such people he had no liking. But Mme. Smithson gave her dear Albert a very different reception. She loved him for his own sake, and especially for his mother’s, whom she regarded with affection and pity. She was quite well aware that her sister’s income was very limited, and to see Albert marry her daughter would by no means have been repugnant to her. Eugénie also received her cousin with the pleasure and cordiality natural to a relative meeting the friend of her childhood.In the course of two hours, he was made to feel quite at home, at liberty to go where he pleased, and to do what he liked. All the family had some employment, Eugénie as well as her parents. Albert at once profited by this liberty toprendre langue, as the saying is—to get the news from Fanny. For had she not induced him to come here, and made him aware of her projects?... He found her in a small building not far from the house. It was on the banks of the river, which was more charming here than in any other part. Its peaceful current glided between high banks where grew on either hand a row of willows whose pendant branches swept the very waters. Everything was delightfully quiet and romantic. It was Eugénie’s favorite retreat, where she often came in the morning to read, or to muse as the day declined. But Albert gave no heed to the beauties of nature around him.“At last we can have a talk, my good Fanny,” said he: “talk of our mutual plans, eh! eh!—for it seems you, too, wish me to marry Eugénie. Our plans are in danger, if I am to believe your two letters: it is possible I may be set aside! That would be a pity! My cousin is handsomer than ever.... But to tell the truth, her style of beauty is not exactly to my taste: she is too dignified. But ...”“Too dignified!... Mademoiselle is enchanting; and then, there is her fortune, which it is no harm to consider.”“My uncle’s losses have made a hole in it, however.”“But they are being repaired every day by his industry. You would not believe how profitable this mill is. Come, tell me plainly, will you ever find a wife as rich?—with even half as much as she will have?...”“Ma foi!no.”“And the money you would never find again you have come near letting slip into another’s hands!... There is some danger of it still.”“You alarm me.”“It is just so. Why were you so long in coming?”“Because ...Tiens, my dear, I was just going to tell you a fib, but it would do no good. I may as well show my hand.... I came very reluctantly, because I prefer my bachelor life. It would suit me better to wait a while. Would it be dangerous to ask a delay of two or four years?”“Ah! it is not enough to furnish you with a handsome wife and a fine fortune! One must wait till you are disposed to accept them! Where are your wits?”“Come, do not get angry. I see I must marry her at once. I will do as you say. Here, I am all ready to listen to your advice, for you must tell me what I am to do.”“You give in? You may as well! Come, own that you gave me a false impression. And I was so pleased! Your grave air and plain dress made me hope you were converted—I see I was mistaken, and am sorry for it.”“A fine farce. And so I even took you in! But did you not tell me to come here like a man seriously disposed? If I succeeded in deceiving you, the disguise must be perfect. The rest are more easily taken in than you!... But that is not the point. You look quite frightened. What are you afraid of?”“Everything, and principally lest you make Mlle. Eugénie unhappy.”“She shall be mistress: that is what she likes—what else?”“When you are married, you will no longer have any need of me, and will send me away.”“Send you away! I am ready to swear.... Here, I will give you my promise in writing: you shall never leave my house. Fanny, do you think me capable of such ingratitude? I am frivolous, but I have some heart, you well know, you old grumbler.... Well, how do affairs really stand?... Does not your affection for me incline you to take too gloomy a view of things?... My enemy—my rival, if I rightly understand your letters—is a fellow who ruined himself, and came here to win the beautiful Eugénie’s heart and fortune; he is very sedate in appearance, and artful in reality. But it is not enough to be ruined, and long for a fortune—the thing is to get it. The first condition is to please the lady. Is he a handsome fellow?”“No; but he has a sensible, refined face calculated to strike the fancy of a young lady like your cousin.”“Has he much wit?”“He talks little, but well.”“He is religious, I think you said?”“Yes; he has founded a library and a school for the benefit of the workmen, and he visits the poor. All this affords him many opportunities of meeting Mlle. Eugénie. She gives him books for his library, paper and pens for his school, and they agree upon the families to visit.”“Ha! he is a knowing fellow. He thinks that a good way to please my cousin and to see her. Then Eugénie is more religious than she used to be?”“It seems so, but you know it is not easy to tell what is going on in mademoiselle’s heart.”“Fanny, you have rendered me a service I shall never forget. It was time to come—high time. I am even afraid I am too late. Have you detected anything to make you think her in love with him already?”“She began by regarding him with aversion. This softened into indifference. What further change there is I do not know.”“What caused her aversion?”“She thought he came here to catch her.”“The deuce!”“His piety seemed to her mere artifice.”“Evidently!... Is any one ever converted without a motive?”“You are a wicked creature, Albert. Louis may be a hypocrite, but all religious people are not hypocrites. I even begin to think he is not.”“Come, go on!... Well, I see Eugénie regards him as a saint. She admires him, if nothing more. The danger is imminent.”“What are you going to do? Nothing wrong, I hope.”“Be easy on that score. I am going to keep an eye on that man, and study him. If he is sincere, I will make him ridiculous; if he is false, I will unmask him. Of course, I shall also employ other means. If Eugénie is not yet in love with him, I shall be the foremost to win her heart. If she is attached to him, I shall do my utmost to appear more worthy of her regard, and to rout him. It is unnecessary to say I shall persist in myrôleas a person of gravity. Eugénie is absurdly romantic. I must endeavor to appear more saintly than this new apostle. No one will suspect the farce. It is an age since I was here, and it would not be astonishing if I also had been converted during the interval.”“Don’t go too far!”“You may rely on that. There is only one thing I am anxious about. Have I not some invisible obstacle to contend against?... Eugénie has a will of her own. If she has already made up her mind, if her heart is set on him, all my attempts would be of no avail.”“Things have not come to that pass yet, I have every reason to believe. I know where and when she has seen him, and what he has said to her. She only regards him with esteem, you may be sure.”After deciding on his plans, Albert had but one wish—to put them at once in execution. That very evening at dinner he directed the conversation to Louis. Mme. Smithson heartily praised the engineer. Mr. Smithson neither praised nor spoke disparagingly of him. He kept his suspicions with regard to Louis to himself. He was not in the habit of doing anything hastily, but had fully made up his mind to dismiss him if he found him as thorough a Catholic as he had reason to believe; that is, an overzealous one, secretly contriving with thecuréall sorts of dark plots, the idea of which alarmed him.Eugénie, in a perfectly natural manner, confirmed all her mother had said, spoke of the good works he had undertaken, and finally mentioned the part she had had in them.“I also should be delighted to participate in all these laudable undertakings,” said Albert. “I must tell you, dear cousin, that I am beginning to be reasonable. I take an interest in studying the great social problems, especially the extinction of pauperism, and the moral improvement of the lower classes.”Mr. Smithson gave Albert an incredulouslook, and Eugénie broke out into unrestrained laughter.“Well,” said Albert, intimidated and cut to the quick, “you shall see if what I tell you is not true! To-morrow I will visit this wonderful school, and offer my services to the person who has charge of it. I rather think they will not be refused.”“Oh!” said Eugénie, “how amusing it will be to see you drilling under M. Louis’ orders!... You will soon have enough of it.”“You think me fickle, then?”“Rather so.”“You are mistaken. I always like the same things, and especially the same people, my dear cousin.”“How gallant you have become,” said Eugénie, laughing again. “But what has come over us! We used to saythouto each other; now we sayyou. Once we kept up a succession of compliments anything but flattering to each other, and here you are now gracious, amiable, and complimentary beyond description! It is a pity I can make no return.... But it is all in vain, my dear Albert; neither your white cravat nor your subdued air can deceive me. My aunt wrote me not long ago that you were just the same. Do you hear?—your own mother said there was no change in you.”This unvarnished statement had really been made in one of Mme. Frémin’s letters. She little thought of injuring her son by showing him in so true a light.“My mother was mistaken,” said Albert, exceedingly vexed at such annoying remarks; “or rather, you have given a wrong interpretation to her words. I am indeed the same in a certain sense. When there is cause for laughter, I am ready to laugh. But though it is proper to laugh at suitable times, I feel that excessive and constant gaiety is unworthy of a man who aspires to a high place in the estimation of others.”“Ah! to think of your sermonizing, my dear cousin,” cried Eugénie, looking at him with a mocking air. “But now I begin to understand your behavior.... Yes; that is it.... You have an eye to the bench. You consider gravity as part of a judge’s outfit. You are right, but between ourselves, as no one hears you, confess that the mask is anything but comfortable.”Albert was vexed and uneasy. His attempts were in vain: he could not persuade Eugénie he was really what he wished to appear. His sagacious cousin continued to banter him with a wit he found it difficult to ward off.Eugénie had no special design in her bantering, but her very simplicity and wit disarmed Albert, and thwarted his plans. How far this was from thebelle passionhe hoped to inspire! Eugénie treated him merely like a cousin, almost like a boy. He resolved to let her see he was a man—a thoughtful and even religious man. “To-morrow,” thought he, “I will go and beard the lion in his den. I will watch him narrowly; I will become his friend in order to thwart him. When I have convinced my uncle and aunt there are others quite as rational as this gentleman, without being fanatics like him—for he is one, according to Eugénie’s own account—when I have won the admiration of my romantic cousin, then we will think of wooing. But we must begin by driving this Jesuit away. Really, the comedy begins to interest me. A fine fortune and a pretty wife are at stake. Moreover, there is this dismal creature to cover with confusion. If I do not come off conqueror, it will be because the fates are strangely against me.”Such were Albert’s thoughts after retiring to his chamber. Then he betook himself to a novel. He was delighted to find himself so shrewd, and had no doubt of his success.At that same hour, Louis was also awake, but absorbed in prayer. Piety daily increased in his steadfast soul: so did love in his heart. Albert’s arrival, which he was at once informed of, produced a painful impression. “Mr. Smithson distrusts me,” he said to himself; “Eugénie does not yet love me: it will be easy for this young man to win the place I covet in her heart.” He dwelt on these sad thoughts for some time, but soon had recourse to his usual source of consolation, and confided all his cares to God. The prayer he uttered might be summed up in these few words, so full of Christian heroism: “O my God! if it is in his power to render her happier than I could, I pray thee to bestow her on him, and let me find my only consolation in thee!...” The true Christian alone can so purify his affections as to render them disinterested. When Louis fell asleep, he felt a storm was brewing in the air, but calmness was in his heart. Resignation, trust in God, and the purity of his love had restored serenity to his soul.CHAPTER XX.A VILLAIN.Albert called at Louis’ office about ten o’clock the next morning. This office was in the centre of the manufactory, between two large rooms always filled with workmen. Here Louis was confined ten long hours a day. If he went out from time to time, it was first to one place, and then to another, to keep an eye on everything, and remedy any slight accident that might have occurred. He everywhere replaced Mr. Smithson. He saw to everything, and gave orders about everything, and acquitted himself of these duties with an ability and zeal that his employer could not help acknowledging. He could not have wished for an assistant more capable, more energetic, or more reliable. Had it not been for one suspicion in this cold Protestant’s breast, one cause of antipathy against this overzealous Catholic, Mr. Smithson would not only have esteemed Louis, but would have taken him to his heart. As it was, he contented himself with merely esteeming him, and this against his will.The workmen were divided into two parties with respect to Louis. The good, who were the least numerous—alas! it is so everywhere: the majority are on the wrong side—were absolutely devoted to him. The bad feared him. They knew he was inflexible when there was any question of their morals or the rules of the establishment. Louis would not tolerate drunkenness, or blasphemy, or any improper talk. The fear he excited among the bad made him extremely hated by a few.When Albert entered the engineer’s office, the latter went forward to meet him with the ease of a man of the world receiving a visit, and with the reserve of a diplomatist who finds himself in the presence of an adversary. From the very moment these two men first saw each other, they felt they were opponents. Each one had a position to defend which the other sought for, and both were conscious of it. Before the Parisian uttered a word, Louis divined what was passing in his heart. “He has come to driveme away and marry his cousin,” thought he. “If Providence favors his plans, I shall submit. But it was God who brought me hither. I do not think I am mistaken in believing he has given me a work to do here, and I shall not leave till I clearly see I ought to give it up and go away.”Albert had to introduce himself. “I am Mr. Smithson’s nephew,” said he, “a licentiate of the law, and an advocate at the Paris bar. My relatives have for a long time urged me to visit them, and I have profited by an interval of leisure to accept their invitation. I am aware, monsieur, of the importantrôleyou fill in the house, and what a useful man you are, and am desirous of making your acquaintance. Besides, I have need of your services.”“If I can be of any service whatever to you, monsieur, I assure you it will give me great pleasure to serve you.”“My charming cousin Eugénie tells me, monsieur, that you are engaged in things I am likewise interested in—the relief of the poor and the instruction of the ignorant around you. Eugénie has even given me to understand that she is your assistant in this work.”Albert kept his eyes fastened on Louis’ face as he uttered these words. He thought he would betray his feelings at such a greeting—at the mere name of Eugénie. But Louis’ countenance remained impenetrable as usual. Albert felt he had before him either a very indifferent or a very shrewd man.“I am glad to learn, monsieur,” replied Louis, “that you take an interest, as well as I, in these Christian labors, which in these times are more necessary than ever. Poverty and immorality are making great ravages. But I should remark that I am a mere novice in such matters. As Mlle. Eugénie has been so kind as to speak of me, she may have told you how little I have yet accomplished. And what I have done has only been through Mr. Smithson’s constant aid. You wish, monsieur, to be initiated into my undertakings. That will be very easy! I will show you our library, scarcely established, and our evening-school: that is all.”“You must also introduce me to your poor. I am seriously disposed to make a practical study of the great questions of charity and instruction. They are quite the order of the day. When can I meet you?...”“This evening, if you like; the school begins at seven o’clock.”“And what do you do at this school?”“I teach reading and writing to those who are ignorant of them, orthography to some, and ciphering to others. I end by reading something carefully selected, with occasional remarks easy to comprehend and to retain. This affords me a daily opportunity of giving my audience useful advice.”Albert made a slight grimace. This manner of procedure did not suit him. He wished for exercises that afforded a more promising field for satisfying his vanity. It was well to propose being useful! He wished to shine.They continued to converse a while longer. Louis, with the shrewdness that characterized him, led the conversation to the most serious subjects. Albert replied without suspecting the scrutiny he was undergoing. Faithful to hisrôle, he affected to judge matters with the seriousness of a man armed with unfaltering convictions. But this seriousness did not blind Louis. Without appearing to observe it, he caught him a dozentimes in criminal ignorance, and, what was worse, this ignorance was accompanied with a conceit that was ridiculous. At length the two young men separated. They had formed an opinion of each other at the first glance. Louis had seen through Albert’s mask, and found him a man of no depth, poorly aping a person of gravity. Albert felt he had a sagacious person to deal with. If Louis was his rival, he was a formidable one.It may be supposed that, loving Eugénie to such a degree, Louis felt, as an impartial observer would have done in his place, that it would be sad to see a woman of so much worth united to a superficial man. He could not help feeling that he himself was more worthy of Eugénie than Albert; that he was more capable of making her happy. He was not mistaken; he had a right to think so.A few days after this first interview, I sent Louis word that Victor was very much worse. His disease had made alarming progress. Victor had hitherto struggled courageously against it, but, the evening before, he took me by the hand, and, fixing his large melancholy eyes on mine, said:“My dear, my beloved wife, I have kept up till now, and continued to work as usual. But the hour has come for me to lay aside all earthly thoughts and cares.... It is time to collect my thoughts.... Death is approaching ...”At these words, I began to weep and sob. He waited till this natural explosion of grief was over.“I can realize your distress, my good Agnes,” said he. “I, too, feel how painful it is to leave you. But we are both Christians. Our religion is a source of never-failing consolation.... See how good God has been to us! I might have died months ago: God has left me with you till now. He has given me time to prepare to enter his presence. And I truly believe that, by the help of his grace, I have made a good use of these last days. I have found and trained a man to succeed me in the journal. He will defend the good cause as well as I; perhaps better. I have saved the life of a young man who is and always will be a consistent Christian such as we need more of. I shall, I hope, have a share in all the good Louis will accomplish; and he will do a great deal.... Of course, my dear Agnes, it is hard to separate from you, but we shall meet again on high. The longest life is but brief. How happy we shall be to meet again far from this wretched world, which I should not regret were it not for leaving you. [P2 added period missing in orig] Every day it gives less room to God: the impious and the hypocritical are fearfully multiplying. This is a sad age! If the very thought of leaving those we love were not so painful to the heart, ah! how sweet it would be to soar away from so much wickedness to the pure radiance of heaven. Why cannot I carry you with me, my poor darling? Oh! how glad I should then be to go.... But, no; it is not the will of God. He wishes me to precede you, alone. So be it. When in yonder world, I shall pray for you!... And now, let us give up all worldly things to those who have a longer time to live. As for me, I must cease to labor, and henceforth think of nothing but God and my salvation....”The following morning, I sent Louis word of what had taken place. He hastened to see us that afternoon. When he saw our dear Victor, he was exceedingly affected. My husband had changed every way within a fortnight, without my being consciousof it, having been constantly with him.“Oh! how glad I am to see you!” said he to Louis. “Well, well, we shall not meet many times more, ... here below, I mean, but we shall meet again in heaven never more to separate.”Louis burst into tears.“You great child!” continued he. “If it were not for my sweet Agnes there, I would beg you to congratulate me: I am going home to God! But the idea of leaving that dear soul, who has made me so happy, hangs like a cloud between me and heaven. Oh! you will, you will watch over her as I would myself, will you not?”“Yes; as your very self, I solemnly promise you,” cried Louis. Then, falling on his knees beside the bed, he said: “My friend, assure me once more that you forgive me. It is I who have killed you!”Victor drew him towards him, and embraced him. Louis then begged my forgiveness also. I could not answer him, but I held out my hand, which he respectfully kissed.“One favor more,” said Louis: “I hope you will not leave us so soon as you suppose, but it is better to make the request now, as I can do it to-day without troubling you: give me your blessing!”Victor excused himself, but Louis insisted so long that he yielded. Victor then extended his hand over his friend’s head: “O my God!” said he, “I am only a sinner, with no right to bless in thy name; but I have given my heart to thee, and I also love this soul to whom thou has permitted me to do some good. Watch over him!... Make him happy here below, or, if it is thy will he should suffer, grant him the necessary courage to find joy in sorrow itself.”This scene was deeply affecting. For some time we remained silent. Victor, unwilling to leave us so painfully impressed, began to smile and say the liveliest things he could imagine. Addressing Louis, he said:“How are your love affairs? You cannot imagine how I long for your union with a woman so calculated to make you happy. The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that Mlle. Smithson is the very person.”Louis replied with a sigh. He related what had taken place at the great dinner, and the wrong impression Mr. Smithson had derived from thecuré’simprudence. He also told us of Albert’s arrival, and gave a brief account of their interview.“This man’s unexpected appearance has caused me sincere pain,” he said. “It has excited a thousand fears only too well grounded. Is it because I think him capable of destroying my most cherished hopes?... No; not if it depends merely on him. His meaningless face, his affected and pretentious manners, and his vacant mind, are not calculated to fascinate Mlle. Eugénie. Her nature is entirely different from his. His defects must shock her. But the man, from what I am told, has the luck of being in his aunt’s good graces. Who knows but Mme. Smithson herself induced him to come, with the positive intention of giving him her daughter’s hand in marriage?...”“It is possible,” said Victor, “but you have one good cause for hope in spite of everything. You acknowledge yourself that such a man cannot please Mlle. Eugénie. Now, she is a woman with a mind of her own, and her parents are very indulgent to her. These two reasons induce me to believe she will never marry him.”“She is different from most women,” replied Louis. “Her filial devotion may lead her to accept the husband her parents propose.... Ah! if she loved me, I should not be alarmed on that score. For an instant, I thought she did; but the longer I study things calmly, the more inclined I am to believe I was lulled by a sweet illusion.... She does not love me yet. It is possible she might, had things remained as they were. Everything will take a new turn now. This young relative’s arrival will absorb her attention, and how do I know but she will even end by taking him for what he pretends to be—a grave, thoughtful man?”“I have no fears on that point,” said Victor. “If this intruder is the superficial person you suppose—and he is, I believe—he will not deceive a person so observing as Mlle. Smithson.”“He is her cousin.... Every one in the house treats him with great affection.... Mlle. Eugénie is young and without experience, ... and the man in question does not lack a certain ability.... He has already annoyed me in more than one way.”“Is it possible! How?”“I told you that at our first interview he immediately expressed a wish to aid me in the work I had undertaken. I promised to introduce him to my school that evening. He was so urgent that he excited my suspicions at once. My fears were only too well founded, as you will see. I had scarcely been a quarter of an hour in the schoolroom, before he came in with Mr. Smithson. I am anxious not to exaggerate anything; above all, I do not wish to calumniate him. It is, therefore, with all sincerity I tell you that this designing man, at his first visit, so arranged everything as to take the precedence of me before my scholars. With his arm passed familiarly through his uncle’s, he entered with a mere salutation of condescending patronage. Then, after going to the door with Mr. Smithson, who had business elsewhere, he remained as if to superintend and direct me, as the master of the house might have done, had he wished to assert his rights. I repeat it: this fellow only came there to make the workmen feel that he was, even in my night-school, if not the master, at least his representative, and I the humble agent. In fact, without consulting me, he began to give advice to one and another, making a great deal of noise, and meddling with everything, so that, thanks to him, nothing was done. He disturbed everybody, and was of no assistance.“Of course, the idle and talkative, as well as those disposed to flattery, took to the new-comer. As to me, I frankly confess he had a singular effect on my nerves. However, I restrained myself, and said nothing to him that evening. The next morning, he called on me, and announced his intention of beginning a series of lessons on political economy. As you know, I am in the habit of reading aloud every evening from some good book—a historical incident, an anecdote, or a moral extract calculated to interest the workmen. To this I join some familiar explanations and reflections of a moral and even religious nature. This exercise, as simple as it is beneficial in its results, was not to his liking. He wished to replace it advantageously, as he said, by instructions apparently learned, but in reality useless and even pernicious. Nothing is worse than to waste great words on people absolutely destitute of elementary knowledge. But the very ignorance of his audience attracted Albert. Hethought he should dazzle them without much effort, and without running the risk of their finding out how little he really knows. I listened very coldly to his proposal. When he left, he gave me a slight glance of spitefulness which was ominous of evil.“That night the young man did not appear in the schoolroom, but the following evening he presented himself. This time he made so much confusion that I could not conceal my annoyance. He perceived it, and left the room. I regretted not having, perhaps, restrained my feelings sufficiently. I followed him into the next room. He received me with insolent haughtiness, and took my explanations unkindly. When I had finished, he thus addressed me:“‘Monsieur, there are some who do good out of love of being useful: to such I belong. There are others who do it from motives of self-love and interest: you may know of some.... You have instituted this school; you direct it in your own way; you wish to be the sole master. What your reason is for all this I do not know, but I can certify one thing: you wish to have your workmen to yourself. It is not my practice to intrude anywhere, even when I have a perfect right. Consequently I withdraw.’“I stopped him to ask what motive of interest I could have.“‘O monsieur!’ said he, ‘the name of a philanthropist is not to be despised. It leads to many things. You know better than I what use you wish to make of it; it is not for me to tell you. It remains to be seen if you succeed.’“He evidently wished to insinuate that I had taken this indirect way of gaining the esteem of the Smithson family, and perhaps Eugénie’s affections. I felt my anger rise. I was about to reply in a way I should have regretted, but he prevented it by going out without giving me an opportunity.“At first, I congratulated myself on my victory. I am ashamed to say that my pride, which I thought I had conquered, again reappeared in my heart. ‘He is afraid of me!’ I said to myself. ‘He feels my superiority, and has gone away through mortification.’ Subsequent reflection convinced me of my mistake. Albert, in withdrawing, was not vanquished, but really the conqueror. He had successfully achieved his perfidious design. He was tired of the school, and felt he should soon cut a sorry figure in it. He sought the means of getting out of it, which I unwittingly furnished him, so that his very retreat could be used as a plea against me. All my subsequent observations have confirmed my suspicions. I have not met him since, but I can see he has been secretly plotting against me. Mr. Smithson is colder than ever towards me. As to Mlle. Eugénie, I have met her only once, walking with Albert. She saw me, and might have spoken, but pretended not to observe me.... Ah! my dear friend, I am, I confess, down-hearted. For days, I have seen that my course and my principles excite Mr. Smithson’s suspicions, but I had some reason to believe I was no longer indifferent to his daughter. Now she herself has turned, or rather, has been turned, against me. In a month, she will no longer be able to endure me.... What shall I do?”“Keep straight on: continue the work you have begun. If an opportunity occurs for explanation either with the father or daughter, convince them that you are an honest man.”Our poor friend was very gloomy when he left us. We participatedin his sadness, for we did not doubt but this cousin, who had come so inopportunely, was slyly doing him some ill-turn. We were not wrong in thinking so. I will relate what had taken place.As Louis rightly conjectured, Albert had willingly allowed himself to be excluded from the school. He immediately presented himself in thesalonwith an air of discouragement, but triumphing in the bottom of his heart.“You have returned early this evening,” said Eugénie. “Are you tired of the school already?”“I am not tired of it, but they can no longer endure me there.”“Have you made yourself insupportable?” asked Eugénie. She really did not love her cousin, and under the appearance of teasing him, as is the way with young people, she told him some pretty plain truths as often as she could. Mr. Smithson was reading a newspaper. Hearing what Eugénie and Albert said, he looked up, and said to his nephew, in his usual grave tone:“What has happened?”“I have been dismissed from the school.”“Impossible!” said Eugénie.Albert was astonished at the persistency with which his cousin defended Louis. He felt his hatred redouble against the engineer.“You may well think it impossible,” said he, in an insinuating tone.... “Really, if this gentleman has a right to figure in the school he has founded with my uncle’s aid, I, his nephew, and almost a child of the house, have a right to take a part in it also. But such is not the opinion of our imperious co-laborer. There is a certain routine about his instructions that I mildly criticised. For example, he tries, however awkward it may be, to give a religious turn to everything, which I, though a great friend to religion, find ridiculous.”In this underhand way, Albert skilfully aroused his uncle’s anger and distrust. Mr. Smithson murmured to himself, with that voice of the soul inaudible to others: “I thought so: he is fanatical and ambitious. My nephew, fool as he is, has found it out, and has unmasked him! That is why the other has got rid of him.”Albert partly guessed what was passing in his uncle’s mind, and saw he had made a good hit. He ended his recriminations in these terms: “The little advice of a humble nature I gave him; my course so different from his, and, I may say without vanity, better....”Here Eugénie burst into a loud laugh.“Eugénie,” said Mr. Smithson gravely, “what your cousin is saying merits attention. You are far too giddy this evening.”Eugénie never resisted her father, except in a case of absolute necessity; she became silent, and appeared to take no further interest in the conversation.“At last,” said Albert, “I clearly saw this gentleman wished to have his school to himself, so much at home does he feel even there.... He rudely ... made me feel that ... I was in the way. I withdrew, but not without letting him know, in my turn, that I regarded his course as it merited.”“There was no quarrel between you?” inquired Mr. Smithson, who had a horror of contention.“No, uncle.”Mme. Smithson thereupon proceeded to console her nephew as well as she could. The remainder of the evening passed in an uncomfortable manner. Each of the four persons in the room was absorbed inserious reflection without wishing it to be obvious, and all felt that they would not like to communicate what was passing in their hearts. This caused a want of ease which became more and more awkward as it grew more perceptible in spite of the efforts each made to conceal it. The two who were the most troubled, however, were Mme. Smithson and Albert. The latter no longer doubted Eugénie’s love for the engineer. He ought to have seen that, as usual, she merely took the side of the oppressed.As to Mr. Smithson, it was quite different. A few days previous, he merely suspected Louis might be fanatical and ambitious, and linked with thecuréto undermine his authority among the workmen. Now he began to be sure of it. He even went so far as to suspect his daughter of favoring Louis’ designs. This Catholic league, established in his own house and at his own hearth, filled him with a terror and anger as lively as they were ridiculous.CHAPTER XXI.CALUMNY.The next morning, before any one was up, Albert went in search of Fanny, with whom he had the following conversation:“You have caused me a useless journey,” said he. “Eugénie loves the engineer.”“I do not believe it,” replied the servant, either because she did not, or because she wished to console Albert.“It is of no use to contradict me. I have kept my eyes open, and drawn my own conclusions. I have a better opportunity than you for observation. I tell you she loves him! If you cannot devise some scheme for driving him from her mind, I shall set out to-morrow for the capital.”“Here is what I call hitting the nail on the head.... I thought of something yesterday exactly to the point.”It was Albert’s turn to be incredulous. He shrugged his shoulders as a sign of doubt.“I tell you I can satisfy your demand,” repeated Fanny slowly. “Listen! In a manufactory, everything is talked about. The engineer has for some time frequented a house apparently through charity, but it is my opinion another motive takes him there. There is a young girl in the house—the prettiest, handsomest girl to be seen, they say, for ten leagues around. Besides, she is well behaved, intelligent, and even pious; only, she is pitifully poor.”“Tell me how he became acquainted with the family.”“The father is a drunkard; the mother an idle, malicious creature who is employed here. The engineer looks after her. This woman was probably the cause of his going to the house. They are extremely destitute.”“And the girl: what does she do?”“She has been very well brought up at an aunt’s in town. The aunt died recently, and so suddenly that she was unable to make her will, as she intended, in favor of her niece. The latter has therefore returned home, to find nothing but wretchedness. I must confess, however, that she has behaved admirably.... All these details are correct, I assure you.... What is no less true, Mlle. Eugénie knows all the poor families that the engineer visits exceptthis one. It is my conviction that he loves this girl, and intends marrying her some day.... There is no need of making people out worse than they are. There are some good things in this M. Louis. All his family are very wealthy. He will not be poor long, and is at liberty to marry a woman who has nothing, if he pleases.”“Well,” said Albert, “I will reflect on what you have told me. It seems to me, with this information, I can greatly modify my fair cousin’s feelings towards her protégé.”Before another hour, Albert had gathered full particulars with regard to the subject, and matured his plans. That very afternoon, he asked Eugénie to allow him to accompany her in her rounds among the poor.“Willingly,” said she. “I have not been to see them for some time. I was just thinking I ought to go to-day.”They set out together. The day was delightful. Eugénie, lively and witty as usual, took most of the conversation upon herself. Albert had on a dignified air of offence which he wished his cousin to perceive; but she did not notice it, or pretended not. Twenty times he was on the point of alluding to what had taken place the evening before, and as often refrained. Conceited as he was, Albert could not help it—he was not at his ease in Eugénie’s society. Her unvarying frankness, her intelligence, and the vivacity that never forsook her, all these rare qualities rendered him continually diffident in her presence.At some distance from the manufactory, the road divided. One part turned towards the highway that led to the village; the other followed a gentle declivity to the river half hidden among the willows, rushes, and flowers that make that part of the bank so delightful.“What a charming view!” said Albert. “Let us go down this way a short distance. We can afterwards return to the highway.”Eugénie allowed herself to be guided by his wish. When within a hundred steps from the shore, they came to a hut by the wayside, between two large trees, picturesque in appearance, but indicative of poverty. It looked like a forsaken nest in a thicket.Albert had made particular inquiries, and knew the hut was inhabited by the Vinceneau family—the one, it will be recollected, that Louis took charge of unknown to Eugénie.“Are there not some of your poor people here whom you ought to visit?” asked Albert, in the most innocent manner.“No; I have no idea who lives in this cottage.”“I saw M. Louis coming out of it the other day.”“He probably came here on business. I know all the families he visits; none of them lives here.”While thus talking, Albert approached the hut, and, before Eugénie could prevent him, entered. She followed.Mère Vinceneau was at home that day, in one of her fits of idleness and ill-humor. She at once recognized Eugénie, whom she did not like. She had, as I have already remarked, a general antipathy against the rich.“What have you come here for?” said she.“We do not wish to disturb you in the least,” said Eugénie, whose curiosity was now roused. “My cousin and I merely wish to rest ourselves. Perhaps you could give us some milk.”“I have none.”Mère Vinceneau was a tall, spare woman, with a forbidding countenance,and covered with rags. Had it not been for her crabbed face, she would certainly have excited compassion. However, Eugénie’s sympathies were awakened at the sight of her wretched condition.“You seem very destitute, my good woman,” said she. “Can I be of any service to you?”La Vinceneau softened a little at this gracious offer. “Thank you,” she said. “It is true we are badly off, while some people have too much.... Nevertheless, I ought not to complain. We have one friend.... You know him well—M. Louis, the engineer of your mill. What a kind heart he has! There is one who loves the poor! If the rich only resembled him!...”“Do you live here alone?”“No; I have a husband employed at the tile-works, and a daughter who goes out as a seamstress in the village. She is coming now.”A slight cloud came over Eugénie’s face. It became still darker when Madeleine Vinceneau entered. Madeleine was not merely beautiful: she was dazzling. Poorly but neatly clad, she came forward with a dignity and grace that inspired astonishment as well as respect. Her large black eyes, her pale, refined face, her smiling lips, and her whole appearance, had an air of aristocratic distinction.“What a lovely creature!” was Eugénie’s first thought. Then another presented itself: “Perhaps Louis loves her.” She shuddered. A feeling of displeasure and sadness came over her: “I must be in love with him myself without being aware of it, to be so jealous,” she said to herself. This doubt was natural. Eugénie determined to solve it. Such is our nature. We can never see so clearly what is passing in the depths of our hearts as in a tempest.Eugénie began to question the girl discreetly. She wished to ascertain if her nature was as angelic as her exterior. She was soon satisfied on this point. Madeleine was innocence itself, and as good as she was innocent. She confirmed all her mother had said, and in her turn praised Louis with an ingenuousness that assured Eugénie she did not love him. “But he—is he as indifferent to her?...” was Eugénie’s thought as she left the house. She could not get rid of the painful suspicion, consequently she was in rather a gloomy mood. Albert noticed it, but refrained from saying anything. One unguarded word would have counteracted the happy effect of his perfidious scheme. But he was triumphant when he returned to his room. “I have dealt my rival a severe blow,” said he to himself—“a blow he can hardly recover from; for he will not suspect its source, and Eugénie will never mention it to him. Even if she wished to, how could they have any explanation? They never meet except in the presence of others. Before such an explanation takes place, I must find other means of completing his ruin.... I have begun well, and must bring things to a crisis....”All this occurred the day before Louis came to see us. Mère Vinceneau told him of the visit a short time after. He suspected there was some scheme of Albert’s at the bottom of it, and dwelt on the means he should use to defeat his calculations. Meanwhile, his enemy was contriving a new plot destined to cause him still greater embarrassment.TO BE CONTINUED.
MADAME AGNES.FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.CHAPTER XIX.ALBERT’S VISIT.Fanny, after despatching her letter, was filled with an uneasiness that was continually increasing. “Will he get here in season?” she asked herself. “Perhaps mademoiselle will have come to a decision before Albert arrives.”But however partial Fanny might be to her protégé, she could not help seeing that Louis possessed rare qualities. If her interests had not been at stake, she would have confessed at once that he alone was worthy of Mlle. Smithson; but her selfishness kept her wilfully blind.Alas! day after day passed away without result. The wonderful letter Fanny depended so much on produced no effect. Twenty times a day she went from despair into anger.“Such a fine dowry!” she would exclaim. “Such a pretty girl! And he allowing them to slip through his fingers—to fall into the hands of another—and what other!... A spendthrift who will squander her property—a libertine who will neglect his wife!... Ah! she might be so happy with him, and he with her! And I should be so sure of an easy life in their house! What is he doing?... Is he absorbed in trifles, and going to lose such an opportunity? I was right: he is light-headed. But his mother, Mme. Frémin, has sense enough, I am sure, and has longed for this match these ten years: is she asleep too? Or has she changed her mind?...”When the day of the dinner came, of which I have just spoken, Fanny’s distress was unbounded. “The enemy is constantly gaining ground,” she muttered to herself. “Every day Mlle. Eugénie becomes less indifferent towards him. Perhaps they will come to an understanding to-night, and vow to love each other. We are lost! Albert is positively a simpleton!”When Eugénie retired to her chamber, Fanny, quivering with excitement, was there to eye her narrowly, hoping to read the depths of her soul. She saw her mistress was more thoughtful than usual, and began by artfully praising Louis. Eugénie seemed to listen with pleasure. All this caused the wily servant a sleepless night.... When daylight appeared, Fanny had decided on her course. Thissoubrettewas a long-headed woman!“If I had to choose a husband for Mlle. Eugénie,” she said to herself, “I certainly should not select M. Louis. Mademoiselle would be far happier with Albert. As to him, he will never find another equal to her. But I cannot force them to be happy. It is their own affair. Mine is to look out for my own interests.... What do I want?... To secure a pleasant home for the rest of my life. Perhaps this new suitor would give me one.... Is he really as much of a spendthrift, and as overbearing, as I feared at first? I have seen him only a few times, but I know him well enough to see I may have been greatly deceived, and that there is much more in him than I supposed.... Well, that is settled: if Albertis not here in season, if I see the other one is likely to win the day, I shall take sides with him.... But I will make one more sacrifice for the ungrateful fellow whom I have loved so much! I will write his mother again, and wait a few days longer....”She wrote, and did not have long to wait. Albert arrived the next day but one. When he appeared, Fanny almost sank to the ground with astonishment and joy: with joy, because she loved him as spinsters always love when they love at all—with as much strength as selfishness; with astonishment, for she hardly recognized him. She had not seen him for a year and a half. He was then in the third year of his law studies—a young man of sprightly, jovial air, faultless in dress, and fluent of speech, though he only talked of trifles....Quantum mutatus!... He now had a grave air, his dress was plain even to severity, and there was a solemnity in his manner of speaking that confounded Fanny, but which pleased her. What had wrought such a change? She was dying to know, but had to wait to be enlightened on the point till she could see him in private. This could not take place at once. He must renew his acquaintance with his uncle, aunt, and cousin.Albert’s sudden arrival caused some surprise, but not very much, however, for he had promised several months before to come about this time. Mr. Smithson received him with his usual quiet, somewhat cool regard. He looked upon his nephew as frivolous, and for such people he had no liking. But Mme. Smithson gave her dear Albert a very different reception. She loved him for his own sake, and especially for his mother’s, whom she regarded with affection and pity. She was quite well aware that her sister’s income was very limited, and to see Albert marry her daughter would by no means have been repugnant to her. Eugénie also received her cousin with the pleasure and cordiality natural to a relative meeting the friend of her childhood.In the course of two hours, he was made to feel quite at home, at liberty to go where he pleased, and to do what he liked. All the family had some employment, Eugénie as well as her parents. Albert at once profited by this liberty toprendre langue, as the saying is—to get the news from Fanny. For had she not induced him to come here, and made him aware of her projects?... He found her in a small building not far from the house. It was on the banks of the river, which was more charming here than in any other part. Its peaceful current glided between high banks where grew on either hand a row of willows whose pendant branches swept the very waters. Everything was delightfully quiet and romantic. It was Eugénie’s favorite retreat, where she often came in the morning to read, or to muse as the day declined. But Albert gave no heed to the beauties of nature around him.“At last we can have a talk, my good Fanny,” said he: “talk of our mutual plans, eh! eh!—for it seems you, too, wish me to marry Eugénie. Our plans are in danger, if I am to believe your two letters: it is possible I may be set aside! That would be a pity! My cousin is handsomer than ever.... But to tell the truth, her style of beauty is not exactly to my taste: she is too dignified. But ...”“Too dignified!... Mademoiselle is enchanting; and then, there is her fortune, which it is no harm to consider.”“My uncle’s losses have made a hole in it, however.”“But they are being repaired every day by his industry. You would not believe how profitable this mill is. Come, tell me plainly, will you ever find a wife as rich?—with even half as much as she will have?...”“Ma foi!no.”“And the money you would never find again you have come near letting slip into another’s hands!... There is some danger of it still.”“You alarm me.”“It is just so. Why were you so long in coming?”“Because ...Tiens, my dear, I was just going to tell you a fib, but it would do no good. I may as well show my hand.... I came very reluctantly, because I prefer my bachelor life. It would suit me better to wait a while. Would it be dangerous to ask a delay of two or four years?”“Ah! it is not enough to furnish you with a handsome wife and a fine fortune! One must wait till you are disposed to accept them! Where are your wits?”“Come, do not get angry. I see I must marry her at once. I will do as you say. Here, I am all ready to listen to your advice, for you must tell me what I am to do.”“You give in? You may as well! Come, own that you gave me a false impression. And I was so pleased! Your grave air and plain dress made me hope you were converted—I see I was mistaken, and am sorry for it.”“A fine farce. And so I even took you in! But did you not tell me to come here like a man seriously disposed? If I succeeded in deceiving you, the disguise must be perfect. The rest are more easily taken in than you!... But that is not the point. You look quite frightened. What are you afraid of?”“Everything, and principally lest you make Mlle. Eugénie unhappy.”“She shall be mistress: that is what she likes—what else?”“When you are married, you will no longer have any need of me, and will send me away.”“Send you away! I am ready to swear.... Here, I will give you my promise in writing: you shall never leave my house. Fanny, do you think me capable of such ingratitude? I am frivolous, but I have some heart, you well know, you old grumbler.... Well, how do affairs really stand?... Does not your affection for me incline you to take too gloomy a view of things?... My enemy—my rival, if I rightly understand your letters—is a fellow who ruined himself, and came here to win the beautiful Eugénie’s heart and fortune; he is very sedate in appearance, and artful in reality. But it is not enough to be ruined, and long for a fortune—the thing is to get it. The first condition is to please the lady. Is he a handsome fellow?”“No; but he has a sensible, refined face calculated to strike the fancy of a young lady like your cousin.”“Has he much wit?”“He talks little, but well.”“He is religious, I think you said?”“Yes; he has founded a library and a school for the benefit of the workmen, and he visits the poor. All this affords him many opportunities of meeting Mlle. Eugénie. She gives him books for his library, paper and pens for his school, and they agree upon the families to visit.”“Ha! he is a knowing fellow. He thinks that a good way to please my cousin and to see her. Then Eugénie is more religious than she used to be?”“It seems so, but you know it is not easy to tell what is going on in mademoiselle’s heart.”“Fanny, you have rendered me a service I shall never forget. It was time to come—high time. I am even afraid I am too late. Have you detected anything to make you think her in love with him already?”“She began by regarding him with aversion. This softened into indifference. What further change there is I do not know.”“What caused her aversion?”“She thought he came here to catch her.”“The deuce!”“His piety seemed to her mere artifice.”“Evidently!... Is any one ever converted without a motive?”“You are a wicked creature, Albert. Louis may be a hypocrite, but all religious people are not hypocrites. I even begin to think he is not.”“Come, go on!... Well, I see Eugénie regards him as a saint. She admires him, if nothing more. The danger is imminent.”“What are you going to do? Nothing wrong, I hope.”“Be easy on that score. I am going to keep an eye on that man, and study him. If he is sincere, I will make him ridiculous; if he is false, I will unmask him. Of course, I shall also employ other means. If Eugénie is not yet in love with him, I shall be the foremost to win her heart. If she is attached to him, I shall do my utmost to appear more worthy of her regard, and to rout him. It is unnecessary to say I shall persist in myrôleas a person of gravity. Eugénie is absurdly romantic. I must endeavor to appear more saintly than this new apostle. No one will suspect the farce. It is an age since I was here, and it would not be astonishing if I also had been converted during the interval.”“Don’t go too far!”“You may rely on that. There is only one thing I am anxious about. Have I not some invisible obstacle to contend against?... Eugénie has a will of her own. If she has already made up her mind, if her heart is set on him, all my attempts would be of no avail.”“Things have not come to that pass yet, I have every reason to believe. I know where and when she has seen him, and what he has said to her. She only regards him with esteem, you may be sure.”After deciding on his plans, Albert had but one wish—to put them at once in execution. That very evening at dinner he directed the conversation to Louis. Mme. Smithson heartily praised the engineer. Mr. Smithson neither praised nor spoke disparagingly of him. He kept his suspicions with regard to Louis to himself. He was not in the habit of doing anything hastily, but had fully made up his mind to dismiss him if he found him as thorough a Catholic as he had reason to believe; that is, an overzealous one, secretly contriving with thecuréall sorts of dark plots, the idea of which alarmed him.Eugénie, in a perfectly natural manner, confirmed all her mother had said, spoke of the good works he had undertaken, and finally mentioned the part she had had in them.“I also should be delighted to participate in all these laudable undertakings,” said Albert. “I must tell you, dear cousin, that I am beginning to be reasonable. I take an interest in studying the great social problems, especially the extinction of pauperism, and the moral improvement of the lower classes.”Mr. Smithson gave Albert an incredulouslook, and Eugénie broke out into unrestrained laughter.“Well,” said Albert, intimidated and cut to the quick, “you shall see if what I tell you is not true! To-morrow I will visit this wonderful school, and offer my services to the person who has charge of it. I rather think they will not be refused.”“Oh!” said Eugénie, “how amusing it will be to see you drilling under M. Louis’ orders!... You will soon have enough of it.”“You think me fickle, then?”“Rather so.”“You are mistaken. I always like the same things, and especially the same people, my dear cousin.”“How gallant you have become,” said Eugénie, laughing again. “But what has come over us! We used to saythouto each other; now we sayyou. Once we kept up a succession of compliments anything but flattering to each other, and here you are now gracious, amiable, and complimentary beyond description! It is a pity I can make no return.... But it is all in vain, my dear Albert; neither your white cravat nor your subdued air can deceive me. My aunt wrote me not long ago that you were just the same. Do you hear?—your own mother said there was no change in you.”This unvarnished statement had really been made in one of Mme. Frémin’s letters. She little thought of injuring her son by showing him in so true a light.“My mother was mistaken,” said Albert, exceedingly vexed at such annoying remarks; “or rather, you have given a wrong interpretation to her words. I am indeed the same in a certain sense. When there is cause for laughter, I am ready to laugh. But though it is proper to laugh at suitable times, I feel that excessive and constant gaiety is unworthy of a man who aspires to a high place in the estimation of others.”“Ah! to think of your sermonizing, my dear cousin,” cried Eugénie, looking at him with a mocking air. “But now I begin to understand your behavior.... Yes; that is it.... You have an eye to the bench. You consider gravity as part of a judge’s outfit. You are right, but between ourselves, as no one hears you, confess that the mask is anything but comfortable.”Albert was vexed and uneasy. His attempts were in vain: he could not persuade Eugénie he was really what he wished to appear. His sagacious cousin continued to banter him with a wit he found it difficult to ward off.Eugénie had no special design in her bantering, but her very simplicity and wit disarmed Albert, and thwarted his plans. How far this was from thebelle passionhe hoped to inspire! Eugénie treated him merely like a cousin, almost like a boy. He resolved to let her see he was a man—a thoughtful and even religious man. “To-morrow,” thought he, “I will go and beard the lion in his den. I will watch him narrowly; I will become his friend in order to thwart him. When I have convinced my uncle and aunt there are others quite as rational as this gentleman, without being fanatics like him—for he is one, according to Eugénie’s own account—when I have won the admiration of my romantic cousin, then we will think of wooing. But we must begin by driving this Jesuit away. Really, the comedy begins to interest me. A fine fortune and a pretty wife are at stake. Moreover, there is this dismal creature to cover with confusion. If I do not come off conqueror, it will be because the fates are strangely against me.”Such were Albert’s thoughts after retiring to his chamber. Then he betook himself to a novel. He was delighted to find himself so shrewd, and had no doubt of his success.At that same hour, Louis was also awake, but absorbed in prayer. Piety daily increased in his steadfast soul: so did love in his heart. Albert’s arrival, which he was at once informed of, produced a painful impression. “Mr. Smithson distrusts me,” he said to himself; “Eugénie does not yet love me: it will be easy for this young man to win the place I covet in her heart.” He dwelt on these sad thoughts for some time, but soon had recourse to his usual source of consolation, and confided all his cares to God. The prayer he uttered might be summed up in these few words, so full of Christian heroism: “O my God! if it is in his power to render her happier than I could, I pray thee to bestow her on him, and let me find my only consolation in thee!...” The true Christian alone can so purify his affections as to render them disinterested. When Louis fell asleep, he felt a storm was brewing in the air, but calmness was in his heart. Resignation, trust in God, and the purity of his love had restored serenity to his soul.CHAPTER XX.A VILLAIN.Albert called at Louis’ office about ten o’clock the next morning. This office was in the centre of the manufactory, between two large rooms always filled with workmen. Here Louis was confined ten long hours a day. If he went out from time to time, it was first to one place, and then to another, to keep an eye on everything, and remedy any slight accident that might have occurred. He everywhere replaced Mr. Smithson. He saw to everything, and gave orders about everything, and acquitted himself of these duties with an ability and zeal that his employer could not help acknowledging. He could not have wished for an assistant more capable, more energetic, or more reliable. Had it not been for one suspicion in this cold Protestant’s breast, one cause of antipathy against this overzealous Catholic, Mr. Smithson would not only have esteemed Louis, but would have taken him to his heart. As it was, he contented himself with merely esteeming him, and this against his will.The workmen were divided into two parties with respect to Louis. The good, who were the least numerous—alas! it is so everywhere: the majority are on the wrong side—were absolutely devoted to him. The bad feared him. They knew he was inflexible when there was any question of their morals or the rules of the establishment. Louis would not tolerate drunkenness, or blasphemy, or any improper talk. The fear he excited among the bad made him extremely hated by a few.When Albert entered the engineer’s office, the latter went forward to meet him with the ease of a man of the world receiving a visit, and with the reserve of a diplomatist who finds himself in the presence of an adversary. From the very moment these two men first saw each other, they felt they were opponents. Each one had a position to defend which the other sought for, and both were conscious of it. Before the Parisian uttered a word, Louis divined what was passing in his heart. “He has come to driveme away and marry his cousin,” thought he. “If Providence favors his plans, I shall submit. But it was God who brought me hither. I do not think I am mistaken in believing he has given me a work to do here, and I shall not leave till I clearly see I ought to give it up and go away.”Albert had to introduce himself. “I am Mr. Smithson’s nephew,” said he, “a licentiate of the law, and an advocate at the Paris bar. My relatives have for a long time urged me to visit them, and I have profited by an interval of leisure to accept their invitation. I am aware, monsieur, of the importantrôleyou fill in the house, and what a useful man you are, and am desirous of making your acquaintance. Besides, I have need of your services.”“If I can be of any service whatever to you, monsieur, I assure you it will give me great pleasure to serve you.”“My charming cousin Eugénie tells me, monsieur, that you are engaged in things I am likewise interested in—the relief of the poor and the instruction of the ignorant around you. Eugénie has even given me to understand that she is your assistant in this work.”Albert kept his eyes fastened on Louis’ face as he uttered these words. He thought he would betray his feelings at such a greeting—at the mere name of Eugénie. But Louis’ countenance remained impenetrable as usual. Albert felt he had before him either a very indifferent or a very shrewd man.“I am glad to learn, monsieur,” replied Louis, “that you take an interest, as well as I, in these Christian labors, which in these times are more necessary than ever. Poverty and immorality are making great ravages. But I should remark that I am a mere novice in such matters. As Mlle. Eugénie has been so kind as to speak of me, she may have told you how little I have yet accomplished. And what I have done has only been through Mr. Smithson’s constant aid. You wish, monsieur, to be initiated into my undertakings. That will be very easy! I will show you our library, scarcely established, and our evening-school: that is all.”“You must also introduce me to your poor. I am seriously disposed to make a practical study of the great questions of charity and instruction. They are quite the order of the day. When can I meet you?...”“This evening, if you like; the school begins at seven o’clock.”“And what do you do at this school?”“I teach reading and writing to those who are ignorant of them, orthography to some, and ciphering to others. I end by reading something carefully selected, with occasional remarks easy to comprehend and to retain. This affords me a daily opportunity of giving my audience useful advice.”Albert made a slight grimace. This manner of procedure did not suit him. He wished for exercises that afforded a more promising field for satisfying his vanity. It was well to propose being useful! He wished to shine.They continued to converse a while longer. Louis, with the shrewdness that characterized him, led the conversation to the most serious subjects. Albert replied without suspecting the scrutiny he was undergoing. Faithful to hisrôle, he affected to judge matters with the seriousness of a man armed with unfaltering convictions. But this seriousness did not blind Louis. Without appearing to observe it, he caught him a dozentimes in criminal ignorance, and, what was worse, this ignorance was accompanied with a conceit that was ridiculous. At length the two young men separated. They had formed an opinion of each other at the first glance. Louis had seen through Albert’s mask, and found him a man of no depth, poorly aping a person of gravity. Albert felt he had a sagacious person to deal with. If Louis was his rival, he was a formidable one.It may be supposed that, loving Eugénie to such a degree, Louis felt, as an impartial observer would have done in his place, that it would be sad to see a woman of so much worth united to a superficial man. He could not help feeling that he himself was more worthy of Eugénie than Albert; that he was more capable of making her happy. He was not mistaken; he had a right to think so.A few days after this first interview, I sent Louis word that Victor was very much worse. His disease had made alarming progress. Victor had hitherto struggled courageously against it, but, the evening before, he took me by the hand, and, fixing his large melancholy eyes on mine, said:“My dear, my beloved wife, I have kept up till now, and continued to work as usual. But the hour has come for me to lay aside all earthly thoughts and cares.... It is time to collect my thoughts.... Death is approaching ...”At these words, I began to weep and sob. He waited till this natural explosion of grief was over.“I can realize your distress, my good Agnes,” said he. “I, too, feel how painful it is to leave you. But we are both Christians. Our religion is a source of never-failing consolation.... See how good God has been to us! I might have died months ago: God has left me with you till now. He has given me time to prepare to enter his presence. And I truly believe that, by the help of his grace, I have made a good use of these last days. I have found and trained a man to succeed me in the journal. He will defend the good cause as well as I; perhaps better. I have saved the life of a young man who is and always will be a consistent Christian such as we need more of. I shall, I hope, have a share in all the good Louis will accomplish; and he will do a great deal.... Of course, my dear Agnes, it is hard to separate from you, but we shall meet again on high. The longest life is but brief. How happy we shall be to meet again far from this wretched world, which I should not regret were it not for leaving you. [P2 added period missing in orig] Every day it gives less room to God: the impious and the hypocritical are fearfully multiplying. This is a sad age! If the very thought of leaving those we love were not so painful to the heart, ah! how sweet it would be to soar away from so much wickedness to the pure radiance of heaven. Why cannot I carry you with me, my poor darling? Oh! how glad I should then be to go.... But, no; it is not the will of God. He wishes me to precede you, alone. So be it. When in yonder world, I shall pray for you!... And now, let us give up all worldly things to those who have a longer time to live. As for me, I must cease to labor, and henceforth think of nothing but God and my salvation....”The following morning, I sent Louis word of what had taken place. He hastened to see us that afternoon. When he saw our dear Victor, he was exceedingly affected. My husband had changed every way within a fortnight, without my being consciousof it, having been constantly with him.“Oh! how glad I am to see you!” said he to Louis. “Well, well, we shall not meet many times more, ... here below, I mean, but we shall meet again in heaven never more to separate.”Louis burst into tears.“You great child!” continued he. “If it were not for my sweet Agnes there, I would beg you to congratulate me: I am going home to God! But the idea of leaving that dear soul, who has made me so happy, hangs like a cloud between me and heaven. Oh! you will, you will watch over her as I would myself, will you not?”“Yes; as your very self, I solemnly promise you,” cried Louis. Then, falling on his knees beside the bed, he said: “My friend, assure me once more that you forgive me. It is I who have killed you!”Victor drew him towards him, and embraced him. Louis then begged my forgiveness also. I could not answer him, but I held out my hand, which he respectfully kissed.“One favor more,” said Louis: “I hope you will not leave us so soon as you suppose, but it is better to make the request now, as I can do it to-day without troubling you: give me your blessing!”Victor excused himself, but Louis insisted so long that he yielded. Victor then extended his hand over his friend’s head: “O my God!” said he, “I am only a sinner, with no right to bless in thy name; but I have given my heart to thee, and I also love this soul to whom thou has permitted me to do some good. Watch over him!... Make him happy here below, or, if it is thy will he should suffer, grant him the necessary courage to find joy in sorrow itself.”This scene was deeply affecting. For some time we remained silent. Victor, unwilling to leave us so painfully impressed, began to smile and say the liveliest things he could imagine. Addressing Louis, he said:“How are your love affairs? You cannot imagine how I long for your union with a woman so calculated to make you happy. The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that Mlle. Smithson is the very person.”Louis replied with a sigh. He related what had taken place at the great dinner, and the wrong impression Mr. Smithson had derived from thecuré’simprudence. He also told us of Albert’s arrival, and gave a brief account of their interview.“This man’s unexpected appearance has caused me sincere pain,” he said. “It has excited a thousand fears only too well grounded. Is it because I think him capable of destroying my most cherished hopes?... No; not if it depends merely on him. His meaningless face, his affected and pretentious manners, and his vacant mind, are not calculated to fascinate Mlle. Eugénie. Her nature is entirely different from his. His defects must shock her. But the man, from what I am told, has the luck of being in his aunt’s good graces. Who knows but Mme. Smithson herself induced him to come, with the positive intention of giving him her daughter’s hand in marriage?...”“It is possible,” said Victor, “but you have one good cause for hope in spite of everything. You acknowledge yourself that such a man cannot please Mlle. Eugénie. Now, she is a woman with a mind of her own, and her parents are very indulgent to her. These two reasons induce me to believe she will never marry him.”“She is different from most women,” replied Louis. “Her filial devotion may lead her to accept the husband her parents propose.... Ah! if she loved me, I should not be alarmed on that score. For an instant, I thought she did; but the longer I study things calmly, the more inclined I am to believe I was lulled by a sweet illusion.... She does not love me yet. It is possible she might, had things remained as they were. Everything will take a new turn now. This young relative’s arrival will absorb her attention, and how do I know but she will even end by taking him for what he pretends to be—a grave, thoughtful man?”“I have no fears on that point,” said Victor. “If this intruder is the superficial person you suppose—and he is, I believe—he will not deceive a person so observing as Mlle. Smithson.”“He is her cousin.... Every one in the house treats him with great affection.... Mlle. Eugénie is young and without experience, ... and the man in question does not lack a certain ability.... He has already annoyed me in more than one way.”“Is it possible! How?”“I told you that at our first interview he immediately expressed a wish to aid me in the work I had undertaken. I promised to introduce him to my school that evening. He was so urgent that he excited my suspicions at once. My fears were only too well founded, as you will see. I had scarcely been a quarter of an hour in the schoolroom, before he came in with Mr. Smithson. I am anxious not to exaggerate anything; above all, I do not wish to calumniate him. It is, therefore, with all sincerity I tell you that this designing man, at his first visit, so arranged everything as to take the precedence of me before my scholars. With his arm passed familiarly through his uncle’s, he entered with a mere salutation of condescending patronage. Then, after going to the door with Mr. Smithson, who had business elsewhere, he remained as if to superintend and direct me, as the master of the house might have done, had he wished to assert his rights. I repeat it: this fellow only came there to make the workmen feel that he was, even in my night-school, if not the master, at least his representative, and I the humble agent. In fact, without consulting me, he began to give advice to one and another, making a great deal of noise, and meddling with everything, so that, thanks to him, nothing was done. He disturbed everybody, and was of no assistance.“Of course, the idle and talkative, as well as those disposed to flattery, took to the new-comer. As to me, I frankly confess he had a singular effect on my nerves. However, I restrained myself, and said nothing to him that evening. The next morning, he called on me, and announced his intention of beginning a series of lessons on political economy. As you know, I am in the habit of reading aloud every evening from some good book—a historical incident, an anecdote, or a moral extract calculated to interest the workmen. To this I join some familiar explanations and reflections of a moral and even religious nature. This exercise, as simple as it is beneficial in its results, was not to his liking. He wished to replace it advantageously, as he said, by instructions apparently learned, but in reality useless and even pernicious. Nothing is worse than to waste great words on people absolutely destitute of elementary knowledge. But the very ignorance of his audience attracted Albert. Hethought he should dazzle them without much effort, and without running the risk of their finding out how little he really knows. I listened very coldly to his proposal. When he left, he gave me a slight glance of spitefulness which was ominous of evil.“That night the young man did not appear in the schoolroom, but the following evening he presented himself. This time he made so much confusion that I could not conceal my annoyance. He perceived it, and left the room. I regretted not having, perhaps, restrained my feelings sufficiently. I followed him into the next room. He received me with insolent haughtiness, and took my explanations unkindly. When I had finished, he thus addressed me:“‘Monsieur, there are some who do good out of love of being useful: to such I belong. There are others who do it from motives of self-love and interest: you may know of some.... You have instituted this school; you direct it in your own way; you wish to be the sole master. What your reason is for all this I do not know, but I can certify one thing: you wish to have your workmen to yourself. It is not my practice to intrude anywhere, even when I have a perfect right. Consequently I withdraw.’“I stopped him to ask what motive of interest I could have.“‘O monsieur!’ said he, ‘the name of a philanthropist is not to be despised. It leads to many things. You know better than I what use you wish to make of it; it is not for me to tell you. It remains to be seen if you succeed.’“He evidently wished to insinuate that I had taken this indirect way of gaining the esteem of the Smithson family, and perhaps Eugénie’s affections. I felt my anger rise. I was about to reply in a way I should have regretted, but he prevented it by going out without giving me an opportunity.“At first, I congratulated myself on my victory. I am ashamed to say that my pride, which I thought I had conquered, again reappeared in my heart. ‘He is afraid of me!’ I said to myself. ‘He feels my superiority, and has gone away through mortification.’ Subsequent reflection convinced me of my mistake. Albert, in withdrawing, was not vanquished, but really the conqueror. He had successfully achieved his perfidious design. He was tired of the school, and felt he should soon cut a sorry figure in it. He sought the means of getting out of it, which I unwittingly furnished him, so that his very retreat could be used as a plea against me. All my subsequent observations have confirmed my suspicions. I have not met him since, but I can see he has been secretly plotting against me. Mr. Smithson is colder than ever towards me. As to Mlle. Eugénie, I have met her only once, walking with Albert. She saw me, and might have spoken, but pretended not to observe me.... Ah! my dear friend, I am, I confess, down-hearted. For days, I have seen that my course and my principles excite Mr. Smithson’s suspicions, but I had some reason to believe I was no longer indifferent to his daughter. Now she herself has turned, or rather, has been turned, against me. In a month, she will no longer be able to endure me.... What shall I do?”“Keep straight on: continue the work you have begun. If an opportunity occurs for explanation either with the father or daughter, convince them that you are an honest man.”Our poor friend was very gloomy when he left us. We participatedin his sadness, for we did not doubt but this cousin, who had come so inopportunely, was slyly doing him some ill-turn. We were not wrong in thinking so. I will relate what had taken place.As Louis rightly conjectured, Albert had willingly allowed himself to be excluded from the school. He immediately presented himself in thesalonwith an air of discouragement, but triumphing in the bottom of his heart.“You have returned early this evening,” said Eugénie. “Are you tired of the school already?”“I am not tired of it, but they can no longer endure me there.”“Have you made yourself insupportable?” asked Eugénie. She really did not love her cousin, and under the appearance of teasing him, as is the way with young people, she told him some pretty plain truths as often as she could. Mr. Smithson was reading a newspaper. Hearing what Eugénie and Albert said, he looked up, and said to his nephew, in his usual grave tone:“What has happened?”“I have been dismissed from the school.”“Impossible!” said Eugénie.Albert was astonished at the persistency with which his cousin defended Louis. He felt his hatred redouble against the engineer.“You may well think it impossible,” said he, in an insinuating tone.... “Really, if this gentleman has a right to figure in the school he has founded with my uncle’s aid, I, his nephew, and almost a child of the house, have a right to take a part in it also. But such is not the opinion of our imperious co-laborer. There is a certain routine about his instructions that I mildly criticised. For example, he tries, however awkward it may be, to give a religious turn to everything, which I, though a great friend to religion, find ridiculous.”In this underhand way, Albert skilfully aroused his uncle’s anger and distrust. Mr. Smithson murmured to himself, with that voice of the soul inaudible to others: “I thought so: he is fanatical and ambitious. My nephew, fool as he is, has found it out, and has unmasked him! That is why the other has got rid of him.”Albert partly guessed what was passing in his uncle’s mind, and saw he had made a good hit. He ended his recriminations in these terms: “The little advice of a humble nature I gave him; my course so different from his, and, I may say without vanity, better....”Here Eugénie burst into a loud laugh.“Eugénie,” said Mr. Smithson gravely, “what your cousin is saying merits attention. You are far too giddy this evening.”Eugénie never resisted her father, except in a case of absolute necessity; she became silent, and appeared to take no further interest in the conversation.“At last,” said Albert, “I clearly saw this gentleman wished to have his school to himself, so much at home does he feel even there.... He rudely ... made me feel that ... I was in the way. I withdrew, but not without letting him know, in my turn, that I regarded his course as it merited.”“There was no quarrel between you?” inquired Mr. Smithson, who had a horror of contention.“No, uncle.”Mme. Smithson thereupon proceeded to console her nephew as well as she could. The remainder of the evening passed in an uncomfortable manner. Each of the four persons in the room was absorbed inserious reflection without wishing it to be obvious, and all felt that they would not like to communicate what was passing in their hearts. This caused a want of ease which became more and more awkward as it grew more perceptible in spite of the efforts each made to conceal it. The two who were the most troubled, however, were Mme. Smithson and Albert. The latter no longer doubted Eugénie’s love for the engineer. He ought to have seen that, as usual, she merely took the side of the oppressed.As to Mr. Smithson, it was quite different. A few days previous, he merely suspected Louis might be fanatical and ambitious, and linked with thecuréto undermine his authority among the workmen. Now he began to be sure of it. He even went so far as to suspect his daughter of favoring Louis’ designs. This Catholic league, established in his own house and at his own hearth, filled him with a terror and anger as lively as they were ridiculous.CHAPTER XXI.CALUMNY.The next morning, before any one was up, Albert went in search of Fanny, with whom he had the following conversation:“You have caused me a useless journey,” said he. “Eugénie loves the engineer.”“I do not believe it,” replied the servant, either because she did not, or because she wished to console Albert.“It is of no use to contradict me. I have kept my eyes open, and drawn my own conclusions. I have a better opportunity than you for observation. I tell you she loves him! If you cannot devise some scheme for driving him from her mind, I shall set out to-morrow for the capital.”“Here is what I call hitting the nail on the head.... I thought of something yesterday exactly to the point.”It was Albert’s turn to be incredulous. He shrugged his shoulders as a sign of doubt.“I tell you I can satisfy your demand,” repeated Fanny slowly. “Listen! In a manufactory, everything is talked about. The engineer has for some time frequented a house apparently through charity, but it is my opinion another motive takes him there. There is a young girl in the house—the prettiest, handsomest girl to be seen, they say, for ten leagues around. Besides, she is well behaved, intelligent, and even pious; only, she is pitifully poor.”“Tell me how he became acquainted with the family.”“The father is a drunkard; the mother an idle, malicious creature who is employed here. The engineer looks after her. This woman was probably the cause of his going to the house. They are extremely destitute.”“And the girl: what does she do?”“She has been very well brought up at an aunt’s in town. The aunt died recently, and so suddenly that she was unable to make her will, as she intended, in favor of her niece. The latter has therefore returned home, to find nothing but wretchedness. I must confess, however, that she has behaved admirably.... All these details are correct, I assure you.... What is no less true, Mlle. Eugénie knows all the poor families that the engineer visits exceptthis one. It is my conviction that he loves this girl, and intends marrying her some day.... There is no need of making people out worse than they are. There are some good things in this M. Louis. All his family are very wealthy. He will not be poor long, and is at liberty to marry a woman who has nothing, if he pleases.”“Well,” said Albert, “I will reflect on what you have told me. It seems to me, with this information, I can greatly modify my fair cousin’s feelings towards her protégé.”Before another hour, Albert had gathered full particulars with regard to the subject, and matured his plans. That very afternoon, he asked Eugénie to allow him to accompany her in her rounds among the poor.“Willingly,” said she. “I have not been to see them for some time. I was just thinking I ought to go to-day.”They set out together. The day was delightful. Eugénie, lively and witty as usual, took most of the conversation upon herself. Albert had on a dignified air of offence which he wished his cousin to perceive; but she did not notice it, or pretended not. Twenty times he was on the point of alluding to what had taken place the evening before, and as often refrained. Conceited as he was, Albert could not help it—he was not at his ease in Eugénie’s society. Her unvarying frankness, her intelligence, and the vivacity that never forsook her, all these rare qualities rendered him continually diffident in her presence.At some distance from the manufactory, the road divided. One part turned towards the highway that led to the village; the other followed a gentle declivity to the river half hidden among the willows, rushes, and flowers that make that part of the bank so delightful.“What a charming view!” said Albert. “Let us go down this way a short distance. We can afterwards return to the highway.”Eugénie allowed herself to be guided by his wish. When within a hundred steps from the shore, they came to a hut by the wayside, between two large trees, picturesque in appearance, but indicative of poverty. It looked like a forsaken nest in a thicket.Albert had made particular inquiries, and knew the hut was inhabited by the Vinceneau family—the one, it will be recollected, that Louis took charge of unknown to Eugénie.“Are there not some of your poor people here whom you ought to visit?” asked Albert, in the most innocent manner.“No; I have no idea who lives in this cottage.”“I saw M. Louis coming out of it the other day.”“He probably came here on business. I know all the families he visits; none of them lives here.”While thus talking, Albert approached the hut, and, before Eugénie could prevent him, entered. She followed.Mère Vinceneau was at home that day, in one of her fits of idleness and ill-humor. She at once recognized Eugénie, whom she did not like. She had, as I have already remarked, a general antipathy against the rich.“What have you come here for?” said she.“We do not wish to disturb you in the least,” said Eugénie, whose curiosity was now roused. “My cousin and I merely wish to rest ourselves. Perhaps you could give us some milk.”“I have none.”Mère Vinceneau was a tall, spare woman, with a forbidding countenance,and covered with rags. Had it not been for her crabbed face, she would certainly have excited compassion. However, Eugénie’s sympathies were awakened at the sight of her wretched condition.“You seem very destitute, my good woman,” said she. “Can I be of any service to you?”La Vinceneau softened a little at this gracious offer. “Thank you,” she said. “It is true we are badly off, while some people have too much.... Nevertheless, I ought not to complain. We have one friend.... You know him well—M. Louis, the engineer of your mill. What a kind heart he has! There is one who loves the poor! If the rich only resembled him!...”“Do you live here alone?”“No; I have a husband employed at the tile-works, and a daughter who goes out as a seamstress in the village. She is coming now.”A slight cloud came over Eugénie’s face. It became still darker when Madeleine Vinceneau entered. Madeleine was not merely beautiful: she was dazzling. Poorly but neatly clad, she came forward with a dignity and grace that inspired astonishment as well as respect. Her large black eyes, her pale, refined face, her smiling lips, and her whole appearance, had an air of aristocratic distinction.“What a lovely creature!” was Eugénie’s first thought. Then another presented itself: “Perhaps Louis loves her.” She shuddered. A feeling of displeasure and sadness came over her: “I must be in love with him myself without being aware of it, to be so jealous,” she said to herself. This doubt was natural. Eugénie determined to solve it. Such is our nature. We can never see so clearly what is passing in the depths of our hearts as in a tempest.Eugénie began to question the girl discreetly. She wished to ascertain if her nature was as angelic as her exterior. She was soon satisfied on this point. Madeleine was innocence itself, and as good as she was innocent. She confirmed all her mother had said, and in her turn praised Louis with an ingenuousness that assured Eugénie she did not love him. “But he—is he as indifferent to her?...” was Eugénie’s thought as she left the house. She could not get rid of the painful suspicion, consequently she was in rather a gloomy mood. Albert noticed it, but refrained from saying anything. One unguarded word would have counteracted the happy effect of his perfidious scheme. But he was triumphant when he returned to his room. “I have dealt my rival a severe blow,” said he to himself—“a blow he can hardly recover from; for he will not suspect its source, and Eugénie will never mention it to him. Even if she wished to, how could they have any explanation? They never meet except in the presence of others. Before such an explanation takes place, I must find other means of completing his ruin.... I have begun well, and must bring things to a crisis....”All this occurred the day before Louis came to see us. Mère Vinceneau told him of the visit a short time after. He suspected there was some scheme of Albert’s at the bottom of it, and dwelt on the means he should use to defeat his calculations. Meanwhile, his enemy was contriving a new plot destined to cause him still greater embarrassment.TO BE CONTINUED.
FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.
ALBERT’S VISIT.
Fanny, after despatching her letter, was filled with an uneasiness that was continually increasing. “Will he get here in season?” she asked herself. “Perhaps mademoiselle will have come to a decision before Albert arrives.”
But however partial Fanny might be to her protégé, she could not help seeing that Louis possessed rare qualities. If her interests had not been at stake, she would have confessed at once that he alone was worthy of Mlle. Smithson; but her selfishness kept her wilfully blind.
Alas! day after day passed away without result. The wonderful letter Fanny depended so much on produced no effect. Twenty times a day she went from despair into anger.
“Such a fine dowry!” she would exclaim. “Such a pretty girl! And he allowing them to slip through his fingers—to fall into the hands of another—and what other!... A spendthrift who will squander her property—a libertine who will neglect his wife!... Ah! she might be so happy with him, and he with her! And I should be so sure of an easy life in their house! What is he doing?... Is he absorbed in trifles, and going to lose such an opportunity? I was right: he is light-headed. But his mother, Mme. Frémin, has sense enough, I am sure, and has longed for this match these ten years: is she asleep too? Or has she changed her mind?...”
When the day of the dinner came, of which I have just spoken, Fanny’s distress was unbounded. “The enemy is constantly gaining ground,” she muttered to herself. “Every day Mlle. Eugénie becomes less indifferent towards him. Perhaps they will come to an understanding to-night, and vow to love each other. We are lost! Albert is positively a simpleton!”
When Eugénie retired to her chamber, Fanny, quivering with excitement, was there to eye her narrowly, hoping to read the depths of her soul. She saw her mistress was more thoughtful than usual, and began by artfully praising Louis. Eugénie seemed to listen with pleasure. All this caused the wily servant a sleepless night.... When daylight appeared, Fanny had decided on her course. Thissoubrettewas a long-headed woman!
“If I had to choose a husband for Mlle. Eugénie,” she said to herself, “I certainly should not select M. Louis. Mademoiselle would be far happier with Albert. As to him, he will never find another equal to her. But I cannot force them to be happy. It is their own affair. Mine is to look out for my own interests.... What do I want?... To secure a pleasant home for the rest of my life. Perhaps this new suitor would give me one.... Is he really as much of a spendthrift, and as overbearing, as I feared at first? I have seen him only a few times, but I know him well enough to see I may have been greatly deceived, and that there is much more in him than I supposed.... Well, that is settled: if Albertis not here in season, if I see the other one is likely to win the day, I shall take sides with him.... But I will make one more sacrifice for the ungrateful fellow whom I have loved so much! I will write his mother again, and wait a few days longer....”
She wrote, and did not have long to wait. Albert arrived the next day but one. When he appeared, Fanny almost sank to the ground with astonishment and joy: with joy, because she loved him as spinsters always love when they love at all—with as much strength as selfishness; with astonishment, for she hardly recognized him. She had not seen him for a year and a half. He was then in the third year of his law studies—a young man of sprightly, jovial air, faultless in dress, and fluent of speech, though he only talked of trifles....Quantum mutatus!... He now had a grave air, his dress was plain even to severity, and there was a solemnity in his manner of speaking that confounded Fanny, but which pleased her. What had wrought such a change? She was dying to know, but had to wait to be enlightened on the point till she could see him in private. This could not take place at once. He must renew his acquaintance with his uncle, aunt, and cousin.
Albert’s sudden arrival caused some surprise, but not very much, however, for he had promised several months before to come about this time. Mr. Smithson received him with his usual quiet, somewhat cool regard. He looked upon his nephew as frivolous, and for such people he had no liking. But Mme. Smithson gave her dear Albert a very different reception. She loved him for his own sake, and especially for his mother’s, whom she regarded with affection and pity. She was quite well aware that her sister’s income was very limited, and to see Albert marry her daughter would by no means have been repugnant to her. Eugénie also received her cousin with the pleasure and cordiality natural to a relative meeting the friend of her childhood.
In the course of two hours, he was made to feel quite at home, at liberty to go where he pleased, and to do what he liked. All the family had some employment, Eugénie as well as her parents. Albert at once profited by this liberty toprendre langue, as the saying is—to get the news from Fanny. For had she not induced him to come here, and made him aware of her projects?... He found her in a small building not far from the house. It was on the banks of the river, which was more charming here than in any other part. Its peaceful current glided between high banks where grew on either hand a row of willows whose pendant branches swept the very waters. Everything was delightfully quiet and romantic. It was Eugénie’s favorite retreat, where she often came in the morning to read, or to muse as the day declined. But Albert gave no heed to the beauties of nature around him.
“At last we can have a talk, my good Fanny,” said he: “talk of our mutual plans, eh! eh!—for it seems you, too, wish me to marry Eugénie. Our plans are in danger, if I am to believe your two letters: it is possible I may be set aside! That would be a pity! My cousin is handsomer than ever.... But to tell the truth, her style of beauty is not exactly to my taste: she is too dignified. But ...”
“Too dignified!... Mademoiselle is enchanting; and then, there is her fortune, which it is no harm to consider.”
“My uncle’s losses have made a hole in it, however.”
“But they are being repaired every day by his industry. You would not believe how profitable this mill is. Come, tell me plainly, will you ever find a wife as rich?—with even half as much as she will have?...”
“Ma foi!no.”
“And the money you would never find again you have come near letting slip into another’s hands!... There is some danger of it still.”
“You alarm me.”
“It is just so. Why were you so long in coming?”
“Because ...Tiens, my dear, I was just going to tell you a fib, but it would do no good. I may as well show my hand.... I came very reluctantly, because I prefer my bachelor life. It would suit me better to wait a while. Would it be dangerous to ask a delay of two or four years?”
“Ah! it is not enough to furnish you with a handsome wife and a fine fortune! One must wait till you are disposed to accept them! Where are your wits?”
“Come, do not get angry. I see I must marry her at once. I will do as you say. Here, I am all ready to listen to your advice, for you must tell me what I am to do.”
“You give in? You may as well! Come, own that you gave me a false impression. And I was so pleased! Your grave air and plain dress made me hope you were converted—I see I was mistaken, and am sorry for it.”
“A fine farce. And so I even took you in! But did you not tell me to come here like a man seriously disposed? If I succeeded in deceiving you, the disguise must be perfect. The rest are more easily taken in than you!... But that is not the point. You look quite frightened. What are you afraid of?”
“Everything, and principally lest you make Mlle. Eugénie unhappy.”
“She shall be mistress: that is what she likes—what else?”
“When you are married, you will no longer have any need of me, and will send me away.”
“Send you away! I am ready to swear.... Here, I will give you my promise in writing: you shall never leave my house. Fanny, do you think me capable of such ingratitude? I am frivolous, but I have some heart, you well know, you old grumbler.... Well, how do affairs really stand?... Does not your affection for me incline you to take too gloomy a view of things?... My enemy—my rival, if I rightly understand your letters—is a fellow who ruined himself, and came here to win the beautiful Eugénie’s heart and fortune; he is very sedate in appearance, and artful in reality. But it is not enough to be ruined, and long for a fortune—the thing is to get it. The first condition is to please the lady. Is he a handsome fellow?”
“No; but he has a sensible, refined face calculated to strike the fancy of a young lady like your cousin.”
“Has he much wit?”
“He talks little, but well.”
“He is religious, I think you said?”
“Yes; he has founded a library and a school for the benefit of the workmen, and he visits the poor. All this affords him many opportunities of meeting Mlle. Eugénie. She gives him books for his library, paper and pens for his school, and they agree upon the families to visit.”
“Ha! he is a knowing fellow. He thinks that a good way to please my cousin and to see her. Then Eugénie is more religious than she used to be?”
“It seems so, but you know it is not easy to tell what is going on in mademoiselle’s heart.”
“Fanny, you have rendered me a service I shall never forget. It was time to come—high time. I am even afraid I am too late. Have you detected anything to make you think her in love with him already?”
“She began by regarding him with aversion. This softened into indifference. What further change there is I do not know.”
“What caused her aversion?”
“She thought he came here to catch her.”
“The deuce!”
“His piety seemed to her mere artifice.”
“Evidently!... Is any one ever converted without a motive?”
“You are a wicked creature, Albert. Louis may be a hypocrite, but all religious people are not hypocrites. I even begin to think he is not.”
“Come, go on!... Well, I see Eugénie regards him as a saint. She admires him, if nothing more. The danger is imminent.”
“What are you going to do? Nothing wrong, I hope.”
“Be easy on that score. I am going to keep an eye on that man, and study him. If he is sincere, I will make him ridiculous; if he is false, I will unmask him. Of course, I shall also employ other means. If Eugénie is not yet in love with him, I shall be the foremost to win her heart. If she is attached to him, I shall do my utmost to appear more worthy of her regard, and to rout him. It is unnecessary to say I shall persist in myrôleas a person of gravity. Eugénie is absurdly romantic. I must endeavor to appear more saintly than this new apostle. No one will suspect the farce. It is an age since I was here, and it would not be astonishing if I also had been converted during the interval.”
“Don’t go too far!”
“You may rely on that. There is only one thing I am anxious about. Have I not some invisible obstacle to contend against?... Eugénie has a will of her own. If she has already made up her mind, if her heart is set on him, all my attempts would be of no avail.”
“Things have not come to that pass yet, I have every reason to believe. I know where and when she has seen him, and what he has said to her. She only regards him with esteem, you may be sure.”
After deciding on his plans, Albert had but one wish—to put them at once in execution. That very evening at dinner he directed the conversation to Louis. Mme. Smithson heartily praised the engineer. Mr. Smithson neither praised nor spoke disparagingly of him. He kept his suspicions with regard to Louis to himself. He was not in the habit of doing anything hastily, but had fully made up his mind to dismiss him if he found him as thorough a Catholic as he had reason to believe; that is, an overzealous one, secretly contriving with thecuréall sorts of dark plots, the idea of which alarmed him.
Eugénie, in a perfectly natural manner, confirmed all her mother had said, spoke of the good works he had undertaken, and finally mentioned the part she had had in them.
“I also should be delighted to participate in all these laudable undertakings,” said Albert. “I must tell you, dear cousin, that I am beginning to be reasonable. I take an interest in studying the great social problems, especially the extinction of pauperism, and the moral improvement of the lower classes.”
Mr. Smithson gave Albert an incredulouslook, and Eugénie broke out into unrestrained laughter.
“Well,” said Albert, intimidated and cut to the quick, “you shall see if what I tell you is not true! To-morrow I will visit this wonderful school, and offer my services to the person who has charge of it. I rather think they will not be refused.”
“Oh!” said Eugénie, “how amusing it will be to see you drilling under M. Louis’ orders!... You will soon have enough of it.”
“You think me fickle, then?”
“Rather so.”
“You are mistaken. I always like the same things, and especially the same people, my dear cousin.”
“How gallant you have become,” said Eugénie, laughing again. “But what has come over us! We used to saythouto each other; now we sayyou. Once we kept up a succession of compliments anything but flattering to each other, and here you are now gracious, amiable, and complimentary beyond description! It is a pity I can make no return.... But it is all in vain, my dear Albert; neither your white cravat nor your subdued air can deceive me. My aunt wrote me not long ago that you were just the same. Do you hear?—your own mother said there was no change in you.”
This unvarnished statement had really been made in one of Mme. Frémin’s letters. She little thought of injuring her son by showing him in so true a light.
“My mother was mistaken,” said Albert, exceedingly vexed at such annoying remarks; “or rather, you have given a wrong interpretation to her words. I am indeed the same in a certain sense. When there is cause for laughter, I am ready to laugh. But though it is proper to laugh at suitable times, I feel that excessive and constant gaiety is unworthy of a man who aspires to a high place in the estimation of others.”
“Ah! to think of your sermonizing, my dear cousin,” cried Eugénie, looking at him with a mocking air. “But now I begin to understand your behavior.... Yes; that is it.... You have an eye to the bench. You consider gravity as part of a judge’s outfit. You are right, but between ourselves, as no one hears you, confess that the mask is anything but comfortable.”
Albert was vexed and uneasy. His attempts were in vain: he could not persuade Eugénie he was really what he wished to appear. His sagacious cousin continued to banter him with a wit he found it difficult to ward off.
Eugénie had no special design in her bantering, but her very simplicity and wit disarmed Albert, and thwarted his plans. How far this was from thebelle passionhe hoped to inspire! Eugénie treated him merely like a cousin, almost like a boy. He resolved to let her see he was a man—a thoughtful and even religious man. “To-morrow,” thought he, “I will go and beard the lion in his den. I will watch him narrowly; I will become his friend in order to thwart him. When I have convinced my uncle and aunt there are others quite as rational as this gentleman, without being fanatics like him—for he is one, according to Eugénie’s own account—when I have won the admiration of my romantic cousin, then we will think of wooing. But we must begin by driving this Jesuit away. Really, the comedy begins to interest me. A fine fortune and a pretty wife are at stake. Moreover, there is this dismal creature to cover with confusion. If I do not come off conqueror, it will be because the fates are strangely against me.”
Such were Albert’s thoughts after retiring to his chamber. Then he betook himself to a novel. He was delighted to find himself so shrewd, and had no doubt of his success.
At that same hour, Louis was also awake, but absorbed in prayer. Piety daily increased in his steadfast soul: so did love in his heart. Albert’s arrival, which he was at once informed of, produced a painful impression. “Mr. Smithson distrusts me,” he said to himself; “Eugénie does not yet love me: it will be easy for this young man to win the place I covet in her heart.” He dwelt on these sad thoughts for some time, but soon had recourse to his usual source of consolation, and confided all his cares to God. The prayer he uttered might be summed up in these few words, so full of Christian heroism: “O my God! if it is in his power to render her happier than I could, I pray thee to bestow her on him, and let me find my only consolation in thee!...” The true Christian alone can so purify his affections as to render them disinterested. When Louis fell asleep, he felt a storm was brewing in the air, but calmness was in his heart. Resignation, trust in God, and the purity of his love had restored serenity to his soul.
A VILLAIN.
Albert called at Louis’ office about ten o’clock the next morning. This office was in the centre of the manufactory, between two large rooms always filled with workmen. Here Louis was confined ten long hours a day. If he went out from time to time, it was first to one place, and then to another, to keep an eye on everything, and remedy any slight accident that might have occurred. He everywhere replaced Mr. Smithson. He saw to everything, and gave orders about everything, and acquitted himself of these duties with an ability and zeal that his employer could not help acknowledging. He could not have wished for an assistant more capable, more energetic, or more reliable. Had it not been for one suspicion in this cold Protestant’s breast, one cause of antipathy against this overzealous Catholic, Mr. Smithson would not only have esteemed Louis, but would have taken him to his heart. As it was, he contented himself with merely esteeming him, and this against his will.
The workmen were divided into two parties with respect to Louis. The good, who were the least numerous—alas! it is so everywhere: the majority are on the wrong side—were absolutely devoted to him. The bad feared him. They knew he was inflexible when there was any question of their morals or the rules of the establishment. Louis would not tolerate drunkenness, or blasphemy, or any improper talk. The fear he excited among the bad made him extremely hated by a few.
When Albert entered the engineer’s office, the latter went forward to meet him with the ease of a man of the world receiving a visit, and with the reserve of a diplomatist who finds himself in the presence of an adversary. From the very moment these two men first saw each other, they felt they were opponents. Each one had a position to defend which the other sought for, and both were conscious of it. Before the Parisian uttered a word, Louis divined what was passing in his heart. “He has come to driveme away and marry his cousin,” thought he. “If Providence favors his plans, I shall submit. But it was God who brought me hither. I do not think I am mistaken in believing he has given me a work to do here, and I shall not leave till I clearly see I ought to give it up and go away.”
Albert had to introduce himself. “I am Mr. Smithson’s nephew,” said he, “a licentiate of the law, and an advocate at the Paris bar. My relatives have for a long time urged me to visit them, and I have profited by an interval of leisure to accept their invitation. I am aware, monsieur, of the importantrôleyou fill in the house, and what a useful man you are, and am desirous of making your acquaintance. Besides, I have need of your services.”
“If I can be of any service whatever to you, monsieur, I assure you it will give me great pleasure to serve you.”
“My charming cousin Eugénie tells me, monsieur, that you are engaged in things I am likewise interested in—the relief of the poor and the instruction of the ignorant around you. Eugénie has even given me to understand that she is your assistant in this work.”
Albert kept his eyes fastened on Louis’ face as he uttered these words. He thought he would betray his feelings at such a greeting—at the mere name of Eugénie. But Louis’ countenance remained impenetrable as usual. Albert felt he had before him either a very indifferent or a very shrewd man.
“I am glad to learn, monsieur,” replied Louis, “that you take an interest, as well as I, in these Christian labors, which in these times are more necessary than ever. Poverty and immorality are making great ravages. But I should remark that I am a mere novice in such matters. As Mlle. Eugénie has been so kind as to speak of me, she may have told you how little I have yet accomplished. And what I have done has only been through Mr. Smithson’s constant aid. You wish, monsieur, to be initiated into my undertakings. That will be very easy! I will show you our library, scarcely established, and our evening-school: that is all.”
“You must also introduce me to your poor. I am seriously disposed to make a practical study of the great questions of charity and instruction. They are quite the order of the day. When can I meet you?...”
“This evening, if you like; the school begins at seven o’clock.”
“And what do you do at this school?”
“I teach reading and writing to those who are ignorant of them, orthography to some, and ciphering to others. I end by reading something carefully selected, with occasional remarks easy to comprehend and to retain. This affords me a daily opportunity of giving my audience useful advice.”
Albert made a slight grimace. This manner of procedure did not suit him. He wished for exercises that afforded a more promising field for satisfying his vanity. It was well to propose being useful! He wished to shine.
They continued to converse a while longer. Louis, with the shrewdness that characterized him, led the conversation to the most serious subjects. Albert replied without suspecting the scrutiny he was undergoing. Faithful to hisrôle, he affected to judge matters with the seriousness of a man armed with unfaltering convictions. But this seriousness did not blind Louis. Without appearing to observe it, he caught him a dozentimes in criminal ignorance, and, what was worse, this ignorance was accompanied with a conceit that was ridiculous. At length the two young men separated. They had formed an opinion of each other at the first glance. Louis had seen through Albert’s mask, and found him a man of no depth, poorly aping a person of gravity. Albert felt he had a sagacious person to deal with. If Louis was his rival, he was a formidable one.
It may be supposed that, loving Eugénie to such a degree, Louis felt, as an impartial observer would have done in his place, that it would be sad to see a woman of so much worth united to a superficial man. He could not help feeling that he himself was more worthy of Eugénie than Albert; that he was more capable of making her happy. He was not mistaken; he had a right to think so.
A few days after this first interview, I sent Louis word that Victor was very much worse. His disease had made alarming progress. Victor had hitherto struggled courageously against it, but, the evening before, he took me by the hand, and, fixing his large melancholy eyes on mine, said:
“My dear, my beloved wife, I have kept up till now, and continued to work as usual. But the hour has come for me to lay aside all earthly thoughts and cares.... It is time to collect my thoughts.... Death is approaching ...”
At these words, I began to weep and sob. He waited till this natural explosion of grief was over.
“I can realize your distress, my good Agnes,” said he. “I, too, feel how painful it is to leave you. But we are both Christians. Our religion is a source of never-failing consolation.... See how good God has been to us! I might have died months ago: God has left me with you till now. He has given me time to prepare to enter his presence. And I truly believe that, by the help of his grace, I have made a good use of these last days. I have found and trained a man to succeed me in the journal. He will defend the good cause as well as I; perhaps better. I have saved the life of a young man who is and always will be a consistent Christian such as we need more of. I shall, I hope, have a share in all the good Louis will accomplish; and he will do a great deal.... Of course, my dear Agnes, it is hard to separate from you, but we shall meet again on high. The longest life is but brief. How happy we shall be to meet again far from this wretched world, which I should not regret were it not for leaving you. [P2 added period missing in orig] Every day it gives less room to God: the impious and the hypocritical are fearfully multiplying. This is a sad age! If the very thought of leaving those we love were not so painful to the heart, ah! how sweet it would be to soar away from so much wickedness to the pure radiance of heaven. Why cannot I carry you with me, my poor darling? Oh! how glad I should then be to go.... But, no; it is not the will of God. He wishes me to precede you, alone. So be it. When in yonder world, I shall pray for you!... And now, let us give up all worldly things to those who have a longer time to live. As for me, I must cease to labor, and henceforth think of nothing but God and my salvation....”
The following morning, I sent Louis word of what had taken place. He hastened to see us that afternoon. When he saw our dear Victor, he was exceedingly affected. My husband had changed every way within a fortnight, without my being consciousof it, having been constantly with him.
“Oh! how glad I am to see you!” said he to Louis. “Well, well, we shall not meet many times more, ... here below, I mean, but we shall meet again in heaven never more to separate.”
Louis burst into tears.
“You great child!” continued he. “If it were not for my sweet Agnes there, I would beg you to congratulate me: I am going home to God! But the idea of leaving that dear soul, who has made me so happy, hangs like a cloud between me and heaven. Oh! you will, you will watch over her as I would myself, will you not?”
“Yes; as your very self, I solemnly promise you,” cried Louis. Then, falling on his knees beside the bed, he said: “My friend, assure me once more that you forgive me. It is I who have killed you!”
Victor drew him towards him, and embraced him. Louis then begged my forgiveness also. I could not answer him, but I held out my hand, which he respectfully kissed.
“One favor more,” said Louis: “I hope you will not leave us so soon as you suppose, but it is better to make the request now, as I can do it to-day without troubling you: give me your blessing!”
Victor excused himself, but Louis insisted so long that he yielded. Victor then extended his hand over his friend’s head: “O my God!” said he, “I am only a sinner, with no right to bless in thy name; but I have given my heart to thee, and I also love this soul to whom thou has permitted me to do some good. Watch over him!... Make him happy here below, or, if it is thy will he should suffer, grant him the necessary courage to find joy in sorrow itself.”
This scene was deeply affecting. For some time we remained silent. Victor, unwilling to leave us so painfully impressed, began to smile and say the liveliest things he could imagine. Addressing Louis, he said:
“How are your love affairs? You cannot imagine how I long for your union with a woman so calculated to make you happy. The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that Mlle. Smithson is the very person.”
Louis replied with a sigh. He related what had taken place at the great dinner, and the wrong impression Mr. Smithson had derived from thecuré’simprudence. He also told us of Albert’s arrival, and gave a brief account of their interview.
“This man’s unexpected appearance has caused me sincere pain,” he said. “It has excited a thousand fears only too well grounded. Is it because I think him capable of destroying my most cherished hopes?... No; not if it depends merely on him. His meaningless face, his affected and pretentious manners, and his vacant mind, are not calculated to fascinate Mlle. Eugénie. Her nature is entirely different from his. His defects must shock her. But the man, from what I am told, has the luck of being in his aunt’s good graces. Who knows but Mme. Smithson herself induced him to come, with the positive intention of giving him her daughter’s hand in marriage?...”
“It is possible,” said Victor, “but you have one good cause for hope in spite of everything. You acknowledge yourself that such a man cannot please Mlle. Eugénie. Now, she is a woman with a mind of her own, and her parents are very indulgent to her. These two reasons induce me to believe she will never marry him.”
“She is different from most women,” replied Louis. “Her filial devotion may lead her to accept the husband her parents propose.... Ah! if she loved me, I should not be alarmed on that score. For an instant, I thought she did; but the longer I study things calmly, the more inclined I am to believe I was lulled by a sweet illusion.... She does not love me yet. It is possible she might, had things remained as they were. Everything will take a new turn now. This young relative’s arrival will absorb her attention, and how do I know but she will even end by taking him for what he pretends to be—a grave, thoughtful man?”
“I have no fears on that point,” said Victor. “If this intruder is the superficial person you suppose—and he is, I believe—he will not deceive a person so observing as Mlle. Smithson.”
“He is her cousin.... Every one in the house treats him with great affection.... Mlle. Eugénie is young and without experience, ... and the man in question does not lack a certain ability.... He has already annoyed me in more than one way.”
“Is it possible! How?”
“I told you that at our first interview he immediately expressed a wish to aid me in the work I had undertaken. I promised to introduce him to my school that evening. He was so urgent that he excited my suspicions at once. My fears were only too well founded, as you will see. I had scarcely been a quarter of an hour in the schoolroom, before he came in with Mr. Smithson. I am anxious not to exaggerate anything; above all, I do not wish to calumniate him. It is, therefore, with all sincerity I tell you that this designing man, at his first visit, so arranged everything as to take the precedence of me before my scholars. With his arm passed familiarly through his uncle’s, he entered with a mere salutation of condescending patronage. Then, after going to the door with Mr. Smithson, who had business elsewhere, he remained as if to superintend and direct me, as the master of the house might have done, had he wished to assert his rights. I repeat it: this fellow only came there to make the workmen feel that he was, even in my night-school, if not the master, at least his representative, and I the humble agent. In fact, without consulting me, he began to give advice to one and another, making a great deal of noise, and meddling with everything, so that, thanks to him, nothing was done. He disturbed everybody, and was of no assistance.
“Of course, the idle and talkative, as well as those disposed to flattery, took to the new-comer. As to me, I frankly confess he had a singular effect on my nerves. However, I restrained myself, and said nothing to him that evening. The next morning, he called on me, and announced his intention of beginning a series of lessons on political economy. As you know, I am in the habit of reading aloud every evening from some good book—a historical incident, an anecdote, or a moral extract calculated to interest the workmen. To this I join some familiar explanations and reflections of a moral and even religious nature. This exercise, as simple as it is beneficial in its results, was not to his liking. He wished to replace it advantageously, as he said, by instructions apparently learned, but in reality useless and even pernicious. Nothing is worse than to waste great words on people absolutely destitute of elementary knowledge. But the very ignorance of his audience attracted Albert. Hethought he should dazzle them without much effort, and without running the risk of their finding out how little he really knows. I listened very coldly to his proposal. When he left, he gave me a slight glance of spitefulness which was ominous of evil.
“That night the young man did not appear in the schoolroom, but the following evening he presented himself. This time he made so much confusion that I could not conceal my annoyance. He perceived it, and left the room. I regretted not having, perhaps, restrained my feelings sufficiently. I followed him into the next room. He received me with insolent haughtiness, and took my explanations unkindly. When I had finished, he thus addressed me:
“‘Monsieur, there are some who do good out of love of being useful: to such I belong. There are others who do it from motives of self-love and interest: you may know of some.... You have instituted this school; you direct it in your own way; you wish to be the sole master. What your reason is for all this I do not know, but I can certify one thing: you wish to have your workmen to yourself. It is not my practice to intrude anywhere, even when I have a perfect right. Consequently I withdraw.’
“I stopped him to ask what motive of interest I could have.
“‘O monsieur!’ said he, ‘the name of a philanthropist is not to be despised. It leads to many things. You know better than I what use you wish to make of it; it is not for me to tell you. It remains to be seen if you succeed.’
“He evidently wished to insinuate that I had taken this indirect way of gaining the esteem of the Smithson family, and perhaps Eugénie’s affections. I felt my anger rise. I was about to reply in a way I should have regretted, but he prevented it by going out without giving me an opportunity.
“At first, I congratulated myself on my victory. I am ashamed to say that my pride, which I thought I had conquered, again reappeared in my heart. ‘He is afraid of me!’ I said to myself. ‘He feels my superiority, and has gone away through mortification.’ Subsequent reflection convinced me of my mistake. Albert, in withdrawing, was not vanquished, but really the conqueror. He had successfully achieved his perfidious design. He was tired of the school, and felt he should soon cut a sorry figure in it. He sought the means of getting out of it, which I unwittingly furnished him, so that his very retreat could be used as a plea against me. All my subsequent observations have confirmed my suspicions. I have not met him since, but I can see he has been secretly plotting against me. Mr. Smithson is colder than ever towards me. As to Mlle. Eugénie, I have met her only once, walking with Albert. She saw me, and might have spoken, but pretended not to observe me.... Ah! my dear friend, I am, I confess, down-hearted. For days, I have seen that my course and my principles excite Mr. Smithson’s suspicions, but I had some reason to believe I was no longer indifferent to his daughter. Now she herself has turned, or rather, has been turned, against me. In a month, she will no longer be able to endure me.... What shall I do?”
“Keep straight on: continue the work you have begun. If an opportunity occurs for explanation either with the father or daughter, convince them that you are an honest man.”
Our poor friend was very gloomy when he left us. We participatedin his sadness, for we did not doubt but this cousin, who had come so inopportunely, was slyly doing him some ill-turn. We were not wrong in thinking so. I will relate what had taken place.
As Louis rightly conjectured, Albert had willingly allowed himself to be excluded from the school. He immediately presented himself in thesalonwith an air of discouragement, but triumphing in the bottom of his heart.
“You have returned early this evening,” said Eugénie. “Are you tired of the school already?”
“I am not tired of it, but they can no longer endure me there.”
“Have you made yourself insupportable?” asked Eugénie. She really did not love her cousin, and under the appearance of teasing him, as is the way with young people, she told him some pretty plain truths as often as she could. Mr. Smithson was reading a newspaper. Hearing what Eugénie and Albert said, he looked up, and said to his nephew, in his usual grave tone:
“What has happened?”
“I have been dismissed from the school.”
“Impossible!” said Eugénie.
Albert was astonished at the persistency with which his cousin defended Louis. He felt his hatred redouble against the engineer.
“You may well think it impossible,” said he, in an insinuating tone.... “Really, if this gentleman has a right to figure in the school he has founded with my uncle’s aid, I, his nephew, and almost a child of the house, have a right to take a part in it also. But such is not the opinion of our imperious co-laborer. There is a certain routine about his instructions that I mildly criticised. For example, he tries, however awkward it may be, to give a religious turn to everything, which I, though a great friend to religion, find ridiculous.”
In this underhand way, Albert skilfully aroused his uncle’s anger and distrust. Mr. Smithson murmured to himself, with that voice of the soul inaudible to others: “I thought so: he is fanatical and ambitious. My nephew, fool as he is, has found it out, and has unmasked him! That is why the other has got rid of him.”
Albert partly guessed what was passing in his uncle’s mind, and saw he had made a good hit. He ended his recriminations in these terms: “The little advice of a humble nature I gave him; my course so different from his, and, I may say without vanity, better....”
Here Eugénie burst into a loud laugh.
“Eugénie,” said Mr. Smithson gravely, “what your cousin is saying merits attention. You are far too giddy this evening.”
Eugénie never resisted her father, except in a case of absolute necessity; she became silent, and appeared to take no further interest in the conversation.
“At last,” said Albert, “I clearly saw this gentleman wished to have his school to himself, so much at home does he feel even there.... He rudely ... made me feel that ... I was in the way. I withdrew, but not without letting him know, in my turn, that I regarded his course as it merited.”
“There was no quarrel between you?” inquired Mr. Smithson, who had a horror of contention.
“No, uncle.”
Mme. Smithson thereupon proceeded to console her nephew as well as she could. The remainder of the evening passed in an uncomfortable manner. Each of the four persons in the room was absorbed inserious reflection without wishing it to be obvious, and all felt that they would not like to communicate what was passing in their hearts. This caused a want of ease which became more and more awkward as it grew more perceptible in spite of the efforts each made to conceal it. The two who were the most troubled, however, were Mme. Smithson and Albert. The latter no longer doubted Eugénie’s love for the engineer. He ought to have seen that, as usual, she merely took the side of the oppressed.
As to Mr. Smithson, it was quite different. A few days previous, he merely suspected Louis might be fanatical and ambitious, and linked with thecuréto undermine his authority among the workmen. Now he began to be sure of it. He even went so far as to suspect his daughter of favoring Louis’ designs. This Catholic league, established in his own house and at his own hearth, filled him with a terror and anger as lively as they were ridiculous.
CALUMNY.
The next morning, before any one was up, Albert went in search of Fanny, with whom he had the following conversation:
“You have caused me a useless journey,” said he. “Eugénie loves the engineer.”
“I do not believe it,” replied the servant, either because she did not, or because she wished to console Albert.
“It is of no use to contradict me. I have kept my eyes open, and drawn my own conclusions. I have a better opportunity than you for observation. I tell you she loves him! If you cannot devise some scheme for driving him from her mind, I shall set out to-morrow for the capital.”
“Here is what I call hitting the nail on the head.... I thought of something yesterday exactly to the point.”
It was Albert’s turn to be incredulous. He shrugged his shoulders as a sign of doubt.
“I tell you I can satisfy your demand,” repeated Fanny slowly. “Listen! In a manufactory, everything is talked about. The engineer has for some time frequented a house apparently through charity, but it is my opinion another motive takes him there. There is a young girl in the house—the prettiest, handsomest girl to be seen, they say, for ten leagues around. Besides, she is well behaved, intelligent, and even pious; only, she is pitifully poor.”
“Tell me how he became acquainted with the family.”
“The father is a drunkard; the mother an idle, malicious creature who is employed here. The engineer looks after her. This woman was probably the cause of his going to the house. They are extremely destitute.”
“And the girl: what does she do?”
“She has been very well brought up at an aunt’s in town. The aunt died recently, and so suddenly that she was unable to make her will, as she intended, in favor of her niece. The latter has therefore returned home, to find nothing but wretchedness. I must confess, however, that she has behaved admirably.... All these details are correct, I assure you.... What is no less true, Mlle. Eugénie knows all the poor families that the engineer visits exceptthis one. It is my conviction that he loves this girl, and intends marrying her some day.... There is no need of making people out worse than they are. There are some good things in this M. Louis. All his family are very wealthy. He will not be poor long, and is at liberty to marry a woman who has nothing, if he pleases.”
“Well,” said Albert, “I will reflect on what you have told me. It seems to me, with this information, I can greatly modify my fair cousin’s feelings towards her protégé.”
Before another hour, Albert had gathered full particulars with regard to the subject, and matured his plans. That very afternoon, he asked Eugénie to allow him to accompany her in her rounds among the poor.
“Willingly,” said she. “I have not been to see them for some time. I was just thinking I ought to go to-day.”
They set out together. The day was delightful. Eugénie, lively and witty as usual, took most of the conversation upon herself. Albert had on a dignified air of offence which he wished his cousin to perceive; but she did not notice it, or pretended not. Twenty times he was on the point of alluding to what had taken place the evening before, and as often refrained. Conceited as he was, Albert could not help it—he was not at his ease in Eugénie’s society. Her unvarying frankness, her intelligence, and the vivacity that never forsook her, all these rare qualities rendered him continually diffident in her presence.
At some distance from the manufactory, the road divided. One part turned towards the highway that led to the village; the other followed a gentle declivity to the river half hidden among the willows, rushes, and flowers that make that part of the bank so delightful.
“What a charming view!” said Albert. “Let us go down this way a short distance. We can afterwards return to the highway.”
Eugénie allowed herself to be guided by his wish. When within a hundred steps from the shore, they came to a hut by the wayside, between two large trees, picturesque in appearance, but indicative of poverty. It looked like a forsaken nest in a thicket.
Albert had made particular inquiries, and knew the hut was inhabited by the Vinceneau family—the one, it will be recollected, that Louis took charge of unknown to Eugénie.
“Are there not some of your poor people here whom you ought to visit?” asked Albert, in the most innocent manner.
“No; I have no idea who lives in this cottage.”
“I saw M. Louis coming out of it the other day.”
“He probably came here on business. I know all the families he visits; none of them lives here.”
While thus talking, Albert approached the hut, and, before Eugénie could prevent him, entered. She followed.
Mère Vinceneau was at home that day, in one of her fits of idleness and ill-humor. She at once recognized Eugénie, whom she did not like. She had, as I have already remarked, a general antipathy against the rich.
“What have you come here for?” said she.
“We do not wish to disturb you in the least,” said Eugénie, whose curiosity was now roused. “My cousin and I merely wish to rest ourselves. Perhaps you could give us some milk.”
“I have none.”
Mère Vinceneau was a tall, spare woman, with a forbidding countenance,and covered with rags. Had it not been for her crabbed face, she would certainly have excited compassion. However, Eugénie’s sympathies were awakened at the sight of her wretched condition.
“You seem very destitute, my good woman,” said she. “Can I be of any service to you?”
La Vinceneau softened a little at this gracious offer. “Thank you,” she said. “It is true we are badly off, while some people have too much.... Nevertheless, I ought not to complain. We have one friend.... You know him well—M. Louis, the engineer of your mill. What a kind heart he has! There is one who loves the poor! If the rich only resembled him!...”
“Do you live here alone?”
“No; I have a husband employed at the tile-works, and a daughter who goes out as a seamstress in the village. She is coming now.”
A slight cloud came over Eugénie’s face. It became still darker when Madeleine Vinceneau entered. Madeleine was not merely beautiful: she was dazzling. Poorly but neatly clad, she came forward with a dignity and grace that inspired astonishment as well as respect. Her large black eyes, her pale, refined face, her smiling lips, and her whole appearance, had an air of aristocratic distinction.
“What a lovely creature!” was Eugénie’s first thought. Then another presented itself: “Perhaps Louis loves her.” She shuddered. A feeling of displeasure and sadness came over her: “I must be in love with him myself without being aware of it, to be so jealous,” she said to herself. This doubt was natural. Eugénie determined to solve it. Such is our nature. We can never see so clearly what is passing in the depths of our hearts as in a tempest.
Eugénie began to question the girl discreetly. She wished to ascertain if her nature was as angelic as her exterior. She was soon satisfied on this point. Madeleine was innocence itself, and as good as she was innocent. She confirmed all her mother had said, and in her turn praised Louis with an ingenuousness that assured Eugénie she did not love him. “But he—is he as indifferent to her?...” was Eugénie’s thought as she left the house. She could not get rid of the painful suspicion, consequently she was in rather a gloomy mood. Albert noticed it, but refrained from saying anything. One unguarded word would have counteracted the happy effect of his perfidious scheme. But he was triumphant when he returned to his room. “I have dealt my rival a severe blow,” said he to himself—“a blow he can hardly recover from; for he will not suspect its source, and Eugénie will never mention it to him. Even if she wished to, how could they have any explanation? They never meet except in the presence of others. Before such an explanation takes place, I must find other means of completing his ruin.... I have begun well, and must bring things to a crisis....”
All this occurred the day before Louis came to see us. Mère Vinceneau told him of the visit a short time after. He suspected there was some scheme of Albert’s at the bottom of it, and dwelt on the means he should use to defeat his calculations. Meanwhile, his enemy was contriving a new plot destined to cause him still greater embarrassment.
TO BE CONTINUED.