Volume III Part 40 (1/2)
”M. l'Abbe Dumont, with whom the funds necessary for this undertaking shall be deposited, will form a superior council of supervision, composed of the mayor and the justice of the peace of the ward, who will add to their number the persons whose a.s.sistance they shall consider useful to the extension of the Bank for the Poor; for the founder will esteem himself a thousand times paid for the little that he has done if some charitable person will aid in the work.
”The opening of this bank will be announced by every means of publicity possible. The founder repeats, in conclusion, that he takes no credit for what he has done for his brothers. His sole thought is but the echo of this Divine command: 'Love ye one another.'”
”And your place above shall be a.s.signed to you beside Him who hath p.r.o.nounced th immortal words,” cried the abbe, pressing with much warmth the hands of Jacques Ferrand in his own.
The notary was overpowered. Without replying to the encomiums of the abbe he hastened to give him in treasury bonds the considerable sum necessary for the establishment of this inst.i.tution and for the annuity of Morel the lapidary.
”I dare hope, M. l'Abbe,” at length said Jacques Ferrand, ”that you will not refuse this new mission confided to your charitable care. Besides, a stranger, called Sir Walter Murphy, who has given me some advice about the drawing up of this project, will partake of your labor, and will visit you today to converse with you on the practicability of the plan, and to place himself at your service, if he can be of any use. Except with him, I pray you to preserve the most profound secrecy, M. l'Abbe.”
”You are right. G.o.d knows what you are doing for your poor brothers. What matters the rest? All my regret is that I have nothing but my zeal to contribute in aid of this most n.o.ble inst.i.tution; it will be, at least, as ardent as your charity is untiring. But what is the matter? You turn pale.
Do you suffer?”
”A little, M. l'Abbe. This long reading, the emotions caused by your kind words, the indisposition from which I am suffering. Pardon my weakness,”
said Jacques Ferrand, seating himself as if in pain; ”there is nothing serious in it, but I am exhausted.”
”Perhaps you had better go to bed,” said the priest, with an air of lively interest, ”and send for your physician?”
”I am a physician, M. l'Abbe,” said Polidori. ”The situation of Ferrand demands great care; I will give him all my attention.”
The notary shuddered.
”A little repose will relieve you, I hope,” said the cure. ”I leave you; but before I go, I wish to give you a receipt for this money. Come, take courage, be of good cheer!” said the priest, handing the receipt, which he wrote at the desk, to Jacques Ferrand. ”Farewell; tomorrow I will call and see you again. Adieu, sir--adieu, my friend, my worthy, pious friend!”
The priest went out, and Jacques Ferrand and Polidori remained alone.
Hardly had the abbe gone than Jacques Ferrand uttered a terrible imprecation. His despair and rage, so long restrained, burst forth with fury; breathless, his face convulsed, his eyes rolling in their sockets, he walked up and down in the cabinet like a wild beast confined by a chain.
Polidori, presenting the greatest composure, observed the notary attentively.
”Thunder and blood!” cried Jacques, in a voice choked with rage; ”my fortune entirely swallowed up in these stupid good works! I, who despise and execrate men; I, who have only lived to deceive and despoil them; I found philanthropic establishments--to be forced to do it by infernal means! But is it the devil, then, who is your master?” he cried, with fury, stopping abruptly before Polidori.
”I have no master,” he answered, coldly. ”Like you, I have a judge!”
”To obey like a fool the orders of this man!” said Jacques Ferrand, with renewed rage. ”And this priest, whom I have so often laughed at, because he was the dupe of my hypocrisy; every one of the praises he gave me was like a thrust with a dagger. And to be compelled--”
”Or the scaffold, as an alternative.”
”Oh! not to be able to escape this fatal power! There is more than a million that I have given up. If I have left, with this house a hundred thousand francs, it is the very outside. What more do they want?”
”You are not at the end yet. The prince knows, through Badinot, that your man of straw, Pet.i.t Jean, was only a name borrowed by you for the purpose of making the usurious loans to the Viscount de Saint Remy. The sums which Saint Remy repaid you were loaned to him by a great lady; probably another rest.i.tution awaits you: but it stands adjourned. Doubtless because it is a more delicate affair.”
”Chained, chained here!”
”As securely as with an iron cable.”
”You--my jailer--wretch!”
”What would you have? According to the system of the prince, nothing more logical; he punishes crime by crime, accomplice by accomplice.”
”Oh! rage! madness!”