Part 60 (1/2)
The peasants of the neighborhood, who had learned of the melancholy events that had happened in the house of their benefactor, hastened to see him; and the stone over Dupre's grave indicated the deplorable way in which the faithful servant had met his end.
Monsieur Gerval at last inquired the name of his preserver.
”My name is Jacques, monsieur,” said he, ”formerly a soldier, now a farm hand.”
”Jacques,” said the old man, ”I bear the same name as you. I gave it also to my G.o.dson, a little rascal who would be about your age now, and whom I have sought in vain in Paris.”
Jacques looked with more attention at him whose life he had saved; he seemed to recognize in his venerable face the features of a person who had always manifested the most affectionate interest in him in his youth. A thousand memories thronged his mind; he could hardly find strength to ask the good man his name, to which he had paid no attention in the excitement of the events of the night.
”My name is Gerval,” said the old man, scrutinizing him in his turn with evident emotion; ”I used to be in business, and I had a large factory in Paris.”
”Is it possible? You are Jacques Gerval, my G.o.dfather, whom I used to love so dearly?”
Jacques leaped on the neck of the old man, who embraced him affectionately and shed tears of pleasure at finding his dear G.o.dson; while all the witnesses of the scene wept in sympathy.
”Ten thousand squadrons! how people keep finding each other!” said Sans-Souci; ”this is a recognition that I didn't expect, by a long way, nor you either, comrade.”
”My dear Jacques,” said Monsieur Gerval, ”I have looked for you in all directions; I was crazy with longing to see you again. Your escapade of long ago caused me much pain, for I was innocently the cause of it. The name of Jacques brought you ill luck, my poor G.o.dson; it had an influence over your whole life; your mother neglected you, your father dared not utter your name before her; I alone was kind to you, but that was not enough for your sensitive heart. You left your father's roof, and I swore to make up for the injustice of your parents if I could ever find you again. Here you are at last! I recognize you perfectly now!
These scars have not changed the expression of your features. We will not part again, Jacques; you must close my eyes; you are my child, my only heir; from this moment my fortune is yours; make use of it to confer blessings upon all those whom you love.”
Jacques embraced his old G.o.dfather once more; he could not credit his good fortune.
”Dear Adeline,” he said at last, ”if I am rich, you shall never know want again; that is the sweetest pleasure that I shall owe to wealth.”
Adeline and Ermance were wrapped in the old man's arms in turn.
”So they are your sister and your niece?” he said to Jacques; ”are you married?”
”No,” he replied with some embarra.s.sment; ”they are my brother's wife and daughter.”
”Your brother--why, that is so,--what has become of him?”
”He is no more. Alas! I no longer have a brother, and she has no husband.”
”I see that your tears are flowing again, my friends; I have unintentionally renewed your grief; forgive me; perhaps the memory of Edouard is painful to you; but I know nothing about your misfortunes; tell me of them, and then I will try to make you forget them.”
Jacques undertook to tell the old man a part of Adeline's sorrows, but he did not make known the whole of his brother's conduct, and Monsieur Gerval believed that Edouard had died at Paris in dest.i.tution, after abandoning his wife and child, and that it was the knowledge of her husband's unhappy end that had disturbed Adeline's reason.
The excellent old man felt more than ever inclined to love that young woman, a model for wives and mothers, and he was determined to become acquainted with the people at the farm, who had shown so much affection for Jacques and Adeline.
”That is very easy,” said Sans-Souci; ”if you want to make them all happy, you must go to the farm. Sacrebleu! when they see madame and my comrade again, I am sure that Louise and Guillot will be happier than they would if their house was a chateau.”
”Let us go to the farm,” said honest Gerval; ”let us all go there; the journey will do us good; it will divert my dear Adeline's thoughts a little, and it will amuse her little Ermance. Jacques will be able to help in his turn the people who helped him in his need, and we, my poor Catherine, we will try, among the people at the farm, to think less of our old friend Dupre's death.”
Monsieur Gerval's plan made them all happy. Catherine was delighted to leave a house which reminded her of melancholy events, and in which she felt that she could never again sleep peacefully. Lucas asked his master's permission to leave his garden, in order to be his servant; the old man consented and everybody prepared for departure.
The house in the Vosges was rented to peasants, who established an inn there, most acceptable to people who travelled through those mountains; Monsieur Gerval and his servants left the house, their hearts depressed by the memory of Dupre. Jacques and Adeline turned their eyes away from the spot which had witnessed Edouard's infamy, and Sans-Souci looked back with pride at the apartment where he had saved an old man's life and slain two villains.