Part 37 (1/2)

For fully three months, there was such a rubbing and scrubbing, painting and papering, that everything was turned completely topsy-turvy.

Order was at last evoked, the furniture from the Rohais was brought in and the farm-house was made a model of snugness and comfort within.

Without, during those three months, nothing was heard but the noise of the carpenter's hammers and the click of the glazier's tools.

Mr. Rougeant was as completely transformed as his farm. He looked upon the whole with such an air of complacency that the neighbours remarked: ”He is in his second infancy.”

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A SAD END OF A MISPENT LIFE.

In one of the numerous public-houses in the town of St. Peter-Port, surrounded by a gang of ”roughs,” a man, still young, sat on a stool.

His face was terribly emaciated, and on it, one could discern all the traces of that demon, _alcohol_.

In one of his agitated hands, he held a half-filled gla.s.s, in the other, a short, blackened clay-pipe.

His gla.s.sy eyes had a strange look.

He made an effort to carry the tumbler which he was holding to his lips, but his nerves and muscles refused to act.

Here, we may as well say that this man's name was Tom Soher.

”What's the matter, Tom?” said one of the men.

”Nothing,” responded he, making use of a very old form of lie.

At this rea.s.suring statement, the company resumed their conversation, and their drink.

But Tom, after placing his gla.s.s on the counter, retired to one corner of the room, sat himself on an empty barrel and was soon fast asleep.

It was a profound sleep, and, from time to time, the young man trembled convulsively. He opened a gaping mouth, he muttered some unintelligible words, but his ”pals” noticed it not.

They were accustomed to such scenes,--the sight of man, who is no more man; an animal, lower in many respects than the brute.

The sleeper was dreaming. He dreamt that he saw the same public-house in which he now was. But, instead of being built of granite,--as it really was,--its walls were one ma.s.s of human beings, piled one on top of the other.

He could recognize some former companions who now were deceased.

Their bodies served instead of stones, and their souls he discerned, placed in lieu of windows.

Amidst the horrible ma.s.s of human flesh, he saw his father's body, crushed and terribly mangled; his face wore an expression of suffering, his whole body seemed borne down by a heavy and oppressive weight.

Tom Soher looked at his father. The latter cast a sad and troubled look at his son.

All at once, the drunken man saw himself seated upon his father's back. So this was the load that crushed him. He gazed upon his resemblance; a mere shadow of his former self.

As he contemplated this sad picture, he saw, issuing out of his mouth--his soul.