The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence Part 55

"Henri, I repeat to you, it is absolutely essential for you to go away."

"Leave her, leave her dying? Never!"

"My friend!"

"Never! neither would she consent to it."

"What do you mean?"

"No, she would not allow me to depart,--abandon her son, whom I love as my child,--abandon him in the very moment we are about to realise our highest hopes,--it would be the most culpable folly. I would not do it, and this dear boy would not endure it either. You do not know what he is to me, you do not know what I am to him; indissoluble ties unite us,--him and his mother, and myself."

"I know all that, Henri; I know the power of these ties; I know too that your love, of which perhaps Marie is ignorant, is as pure as it is respectful."

"And you wish to send me away?"

"Yes, because I know that Marie and you are both young; because you are compelled every moment to a.s.sociate intimately; because the expression of the grat.i.tude she owes you would, to suspicious eyes, seem the expression of a more tender sentiment; because, in fact, I know that the old Marquise of Pont Brillant, shameless old dowager if there is one, has made at the castle, in the presence of twenty persons, wicked and satirical allusions to the age and appearance of the preceptor that Madame Bastien has chosen for her son."

"Oh, that is infamous!"

"Yes, it is infamous; yes, it is shameful; but you will give plausibility to these calumnies, if you remain in this house while Madame Bastien, after seventeen years of marriage, is suing for a separation."

"But I swear to you, Pierre, she knows nothing of my love; for you know well that I would rather die than say one word to her of this love, because she owes the salvation of her son to me."

"I have no doubt of you, or of her, but I repeat to you, that your prolonged sojourn in this house will prove an irreparable injury to Marie."

"Pierre, these fears are foolish."

"These fears are only too well founded; your presence here, so wickedly misconstrued, will be a reproach to the stainless purity of Marie's life; her request for a separation will be judged beforehand, and perhaps rejected. Then Bastien, more than ever irritated against his wife, will treat her with renewed cruelty, and he will kill her, Henri,--kill her legally, kill her honourably, as so many husbands kill their wives."

The justice of the doctor's words was evident; David could not fail to recognise it. Wis.h.i.+ng, however, to cling to a last and forlorn hope, he said:

"But, really, Pierre, how can I leave Frederick, who, this present moment, needs all my care? For his mental health is scarcely confirmed.

Dear child! to leave at the very time when I see such a glorious future in store for him?"

"But, remember, pray, that this evening M. Bastien will be here, that he will tell you, perhaps, to leave the house,--for after all, he is master of this house; then what will you do?"

The conversation between David and the doctor was interrupted by Frederick, who entered hurriedly and said to Doctor Dufour:

"My mother has just awakened from her sleep, and desires to speak to you at once."

"My child," said the physician to Frederick, "I have something special to say to your mother. Please remain here with David."

And turning to his friend, he added:

"Henri, I can rely on you; you understand me?"

"I understand you."

"You give me your word to do what you ought to do?"

After a long hesitation, during which Frederick, surprised at these mysterious words, looked alternately at the doctor and David, the latter replied, in a firm voice, as he extended his hand to his friend.

"Pierre, you have my word."

"That is well," said the physician with deep emotion, as he pressed David's hand.

Then he added:

"I have only fulfilled one half of my task."

"What do you mean, Pierre?" cried David, as he saw the physician directing his steps to Marie's chamber, "what are you going to do?"

"My duty," replied the doctor.

And, leaving David and Frederick in the library, he entered Madame Bastien's chamber.

CHAPTER XL.

When Doctor Dufour entered Madame Bastien's room, he found her in bed, and Marguerite seated by her pillow.

Marie, whose beauty was so radiant the evening before, was pale and exhausted; a burning fever coloured her cheeks and made her large blue eyes glitter under her heavy, half-closed eyelids; from time to time, a sharp, dry cough racked her bosom, upon which the sick woman frequently pressed her hand, as if to suppress a keen, agonising pain.

At the sight of the doctor, Madame Bastien said to her servant:

"Leave us, Marguerite."

"Well, how are you?" said the doctor, when they were left alone.

"This cough pains me and tears my chest, my good doctor; my sleep has been disturbed by dreadful dreams, the effect of the fever, no doubt, but, we will not speak of that," added Marie with an accent of angelic resignation. "I wish to consult you upon important matters, good doctor, and I must hurry, for, two or three times since I awoke, I have felt my thoughts slipping away from me."

"Do not distress yourself about that, for it belongs to the weak state which almost always follows the excitement of fever."

"I wished to speak to you first, to you alone, before asking M. David and my son to come in, as we will have all three to confer together afterward."

"I am listening to you, madame."

"You know my husband came home yesterday evening."

"I know it," said the doctor, unable to restrain a shudder of indignation.

"I had a long and painful discussion with him on the subject of my son.

In spite of my claims and my prayer, M. Bastien is resolved to enter Frederick with M. Bridou as a bailiff's clerk. That would make it necessary for me to thank M. David for his care, and separate myself from my son."

"And you cannot consent to that?"