Volume III Part 38 (1/2)

My poor friend is always the same; he only finds a solace for his sufferings in doing good.”

”I do not deserve these praises, have the goodness to dispense with them,”

said the notary, dryly, with difficulty concealing his anger. ”To the Lord alone belongs the appreciation of good and evil; I am only a miserable sinner.”

”We are all sinners,” answered the abbe gently; ”but we have not all the charity which distinguishes you, my respected friend. There are very few who, like you, dispossess themselves of so much of their earthly wealth to employ it during their lifetime in a manner so Christian-like. Do you still persist in selling your business, in order to devote yourself more entirely to the practice of religion?”

”Since yesterday, my business is sold, M. l'Abbe; some concessions have enabled me to realize (a rare thing) the cash down: this sum, added to others, will enable me to found the inst.i.tution of which I have spoken, and of which I have definitively arranged the plan that I am about to submit to you.”

”Ah! my worthy friend,” said the abbe, with deep and reverential admiration, ”to do so much good--so unostentatiously--and, I may say, so naturally! I repeat to you, people like you are rare; they will receive their reward.”

”It is true that very few persons unite, like Jacques Ferrand, riches to piety, intelligence to charity,” said Polidori, with an ironical smile which escaped the notice of the good abbe.

At this new and sarcastic eulogium the hand of the notary was clinched; he cast from under his spectacles a look of deadly hatred on Polidori.

”You see, M. l'Abbe,” the bosom friend of Jacques Ferrand hastened to say, ”he has continually these nervous spasms, and he will do nothing for them.

He worries me, he is his own executioner, my poor friend!”

At these words of Polidori, the notary shuddered still more convulsively, but he composed himself again. A man less simple than the abbe would have remarked, during this conversation, and, above all, during what is about to follow, the notary's constrained manner of speaking; for it is hardly necessary to say that a will superior to his own, the will of Rudolph, in a word, imposed on this man words and acts diametrically opposed to his true character. Thus sometimes, pushed to extremities, the notary appeared reluctant to obey this all powerful and invisible authority; but a look from Polidori put an end to his indecision. Then, constraining with a sigh of rage his most violent feelings, Jacques Ferrand submitted to the yoke which he could not break.

”Alas! M. l'Abbe,” said Polidori, who seemed to take delight in torturing his victim, as is said vulgarly, by p.r.i.c.ks of a pin, ”my poor friend neglects his health too much. Tell him to be more careful of himself, if not for his own sake, for his friends', or, at least, for the unfortunates of whom he is the hope and support.”

”Enough! enough!” murmured the notary.

”No, it is not enough,” said the priest, with emotion; ”we cannot repeat to you too often that you do not belong to yourself, and that it is wrong thus to neglect your health. In ten years that I have known you, I have never seen you ill; but for a month past you are no longer recognizable. I am so much the more struck with this alteration of your features, as I was for some time without seeing you. Thus, at our first interview, I could not conceal my surprise; but the change I have remarked in you for the last few days is much more serious: you sink every hour, you give us much uneasiness. I implore you, my worthy friend, take care of your health.”

”I am very sensible of your solicitude, M. l'Abbe; but I a.s.sure you that my condition is not so alarming as you think.”

”Since you are so obstinate,” said Polidori, ”I will tell everything to the abbe; he loves you--he esteems you--he honors you much; how much the more will he honor you when he shall know your new merits--when he shall know the true cause of your wasting away?”

”What is this?” asked the abbe.

”M. l'Abbe,” said the notary, with impatience, ”I begged you to come here to communicate to you projects of high importance, and not to hear me ridiculously praised by _my friend_.”

”You know, Jacques, that from me you must be resigned to here everything,”

said Polidori, looking fixedly at the notary, who cast down his eyes, and remained silent. Polidori continued: ”You perhaps remarked, M. l'Abbe, that the first symptoms of his nervous complaint appeared a short time after the abominable scandal which Louise Morel caused in this house.”

The notary shuddered.

”You know of the crime of this unhappy girl, sir?” demanded the astonished priest; ”I thought you had arrived but a few days since at Paris?”

”Without doubt, M. l'Abbe; but Jacques has related everything to me, as his friend--as his physician; for he attributes these nervous attacks almost entirely to the indignation which the crime of Louise Morel caused him.

This is nothing, as yet; my poor friend, alas! had new trials to endure, which, you see, have ruined his health. An old servant, who for many years was attached to him by the ties of grat.i.tude--”

”Madame Seraphin?” said the cure, interrupting Polidori. ”I have heard of the death of this unfortunate, drowned by her own imprudence, and I comprehend the grief of M. Ferrand. It is not easy to forget ten years of faithful services; such regrets do credit to the master as well as to the servant.”

”M. l'Abbe,” said the notary, ”I entreat you, do not speak of my virtues--you confuse me--it is painful.”

”And who will speak of them, then--will it be yourself?” answered Polidori affectionately; ”but you will be obliged to praise him still more, M.