Volume VIII Part 12 (2/2)

He aited on by two maids, both old women who had been in the habit--a very old one, no doubt--of saying ”Monsieur Pierre” and ”Monsieur Jean” Marechal would hold out both hands, the right hand to one of the young men, the left to the other, as they happened to come in

”How are you, my children?” he would say ”Have you any news of your parents? As for me, they never write to me”

The talk was quiet and inti re, charood friend to theood friends of e think the less because we feel sure of them

Now, re seen hi his student's impecuniousness, Marechal had of his own accord offered and lent hiotten by both, and never repaid Then this man must always have been fond of hiht of his needs Well then--well then--why leave his whole fortune to Jean? No, he had never shown any er than for the elder, had never been more interested in one than in the other, or seemed to care more tenderly for this one or that one Well then--well then--heto Jean--everything--and nothing to Pierre

The ht, the more he recalled the past few years, the more extraordinary, the more incredible was it that he should haveof unspeakable anguish piercing his bosos seeh in a flood, unchecked, tossing it ild surges

Then in an undertone, as a htmare, he muttered: ”I must know My God! I must know”

He looked further back now, to an earlier time, when his parents had lived in Paris But the faces escaped hiled above all to see Marechal with light, or brown, or black hair But he could not; the later ie, his face as an old man, blotted out all others However, he rehter, and had a soft hand, and that he often brought flowers

Very often--for his father would constantly say: ”What, another bouquet! But this is madness, my dear fellow; you will ruin yourself in roses” And Marechal would say: ”No matter; I like it”

And suddenly his mother's voice and accent, his mother's as she smiled and said: ”Thank you, my kind friend,” flashed on his brain, so clearly that he could have believed he heard her She must have spoken those words very often that they should reht flowers; he, the gentleman, the rich man, the customer, to the humble shop-keeper, the jeweler's wife Had he loved her? Why should he have made friends with these tradespeople if he had not been in love with the wife? He was a man of education and fairly refined tastes How many a time had he discussed poets and poetry with Pierre He did not appreciate these writers from an artistic point of view, but with sy The doctor had often smiled at his emotions which had struck him as rather silly; now he plainly saw that this sentimental soul could never, never have been the friend of his father, as so matter-of-fact, so narrow, so heavy, to whom the word ”Poetry” , free, rich, ready for any for perhaps observed its pretty ain, had chatted,by frequent purchases for the right of a seat in the fa hands with the husband

And what next--what next--good God--what next?

He had loved and petted the first child, the jeweler's child, till the second was born; then, till death, he had rerave was closed, his flesh dust, his na, when he hi to scheiven his whole fortune to the second child! Why?

The man had all his wits; he ht, that he alrounds for the supposition that the child was his He was casting obloquy on a woman

How could he have done this if Jean were not his son?

And suddenly a clear and fearful recollection shot through his brain

Marechal was fair--fair like Jean He now remembered a little miniature portrait he had seen for-room chimney-shelf, and which had since disappeared Where was it? Lost, or hidden away? Oh, if he could but have it in his hands for one minute!

His mother kept it perhaps in the unconfessed drahere love-tokens were treasured

His roan, one of those brief

And immediately, as if it had heard hi-horn on the pier bellowed out close to him Its voice, like that of a fiendishroar contrived to drown the clah the darkness, across the sea, which was invisible under its shroud of fog And again, through the ht They were terrifying, these calls given forth by the great blind steam-shi+ps

Then all was silent onceabout hihtht he, ”I suspect e of love and erief, welled up in his heart

Hisher as he knew her, how could he ever have suspected her? Was not the soul, was not the life of this simple-minded, chaste, and loyal woman clearer than water? Could any one who had seen and known her ever think of her but as above suspicion? And he, her son, had doubted her! Oh, if he could but have taken her in his arms at that one on his knees to crave pardon

Would she have deceived his father--she?

His father!--A very worthy ht and honest in business, but with a one beyond the horizon of his shop Hoas it that this woman, who must have been very pretty--as he knew, and it could still be seen--gifted, too, with a delicate, tender, emotional soul, have accepted a man so unlike herself as a suitor and a husband? Why inquire? She had irls do marry, the youth with a little fortune proposed to her by their relations They had settled at once in their shop in the Rue Mont over the desk, inspired by the feeling of a new home, and the subtle and sacred sense of interests in coard, by the domestic hearth of most of the commercial houses of Paris, had set to ith all her superior and active intelligence, to make the fortune they hoped for And so her life had flowed on, uniform, peaceful and respectable, but loveless

Loveless?--was it possible then that a wo in Paris, reading books, applauding actresses for dying of passion on the stage, could live fro her heart touched? He would not believe it of any one else; why should she be different froh she was his , with all the poetic weaknesses which agitate the heart of a young creature Shut up, iar husband who always talked of trade, she had dreaed in the shades of evening And then, one day a man had come in, as lovers do in books, and had talked as they talk