In Search Of A Son Part 3

"Monsieur Roger!"

The gentleman in his turn looked with surprise at the pretty little girl who had saluted him by name. He cast a glance towards the door, and, seeing that she was alone, more surprised than ever, he looked at her long and silently.

Miette, abashed by this scrutiny, drew back a little, and said, with hesitation,--

"Tell me: you are surely Monsieur Roger?"

"Yes, I am indeed Monsieur Roger," said the visitor, at last, in a voice full of emotion. And, with a kindly smile, he added, "How did you come to recognize me, Miss Miette?"

Hearing her own name p.r.o.nounced in this unexpected manner, Miss Miette was struck dumb with astonishment. At the end of a minute, she stammered,--

"Why, sir, you know me, then, also?"

"Yes, my child; I have known and loved you for a long time."

And Monsieur Roger caught Miette up in his arms and kissed her tenderly.

"Yes," he continued, "I know you, my dear child. Your father has often spoken of you in his letters; and has he not sent me also several of your photographs when I asked for them?"

"Why, that is funny!" cried Miette.

But she suddenly felt that the word was not dignified enough.

"That is very strange," she said: "for I, too, recognized you from your photograph; and it was only five minutes ago, at the very moment when you arrived, that I was looking at it, up-stairs in my room. Shall I go up and find the alb.u.m?"

Monsieur Roger held her back.

"No, my child," said he, "remain here by me, and tell me something about your father and your mother."

Miette looked up at the clock.

"Papa and mamma may return at any moment. They will talk to you themselves a great deal better than I can. All that I can tell you is that they are going to be very, very glad; but they did not expect you until the evening. How does it happen that you are here already?"

"Because I took the first train,--the 6.30."

"But your telegram?"

"Yes, I sent a despatch last night on arriving at Paris, but I did not have the patience to wait for an answer. I departed, hoping they would receive me anyway with pleasure; and I already see that I was not mistaken."

"No, Monsieur Roger," answered Miette, "you were not mistaken. You are going to be very happy here, very happy. There, now! I see papa and mamma returning."

The door of the vestibule had just been opened.

They could see Peter exchanging some words with his master and mistress.

Then hurried steps were heard, and in a moment Monsieur Dalize was in the arms of his friend Roger. Miss Miette, who had taken her mamma by the arm, obliged her to bend down, and said in her ear,--

"I love him already, our friend Roger."

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CHAPTER IV.

MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY.

The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the two friends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. Monsieur Roger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithful hearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, in a large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn, opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation had fallen into an embarra.s.sing silence. Every one looked at Monsieur Roger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount the terrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to ask him anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkled sky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessed the thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and with a resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,--

"I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me the story of my sorrow."

Monsieur and Madame Dalize made a sight gesture of negation.

"Yes," continued Monsieur Roger, "I know very well that you do not wish it through idle curiosity, that you fear to reawaken my griefs; but to whom can I tell my story, if not to you? I owe it to you as a sacred debt, and, if I held my tongue, it seems to me a dark spot would come upon our friends.h.i.+p. You know what a lovely and charming wife I married.

Her only fault--a fault only in the eyes of the world--was that she was poor. I had the same fault. When my son George came into the world I suddenly was filled with new ambitions. I wished, both for his sake and for his mother's, to ama.s.s wealth, and I worked feverishly and continuously in my laboratory. I had a problem before me, and at last I succeeded in solving it. I had discovered a new process for treating silver ores. Fear nothing: I am not going to enter into technical details; but it is necessary that I should explain to you the reason which made me"--here Monsieur paused, and then continued, with profound sadness--"which made _us_ go to America. Silver ores in most of the mines of North America offer very complex combinations in the sulphur, bromide, chloride of lime, and iodine, which I found mixed up with the precious metal,--that is to say, with the silver. It is necessary to free the silver from all these various substances. Now, the known processes had not succeeded in freeing the silver in all its purity.

There was always a certain quant.i.ty of the silver which remained alloyed with foreign matters, and that much silver was consequently lost. The processes which I had discovered made it possible to obtain the entire quant.i.ty of silver contained in the ore. Not a fraction of the precious metal escaped. An English company owning some silver-mines in Texas heard of my discovery, and made me an offer. I was to go to Texas for ten years. The enterprise was to be at my own risk, but they would give me ten per cent on all the ore that I saved. I felt certain to succeed.

My wife, full of faith in me, urged me to accept. What were we risking?

A modest situation in a chemical laboratory, which I should always be able to obtain again. Over there on the other side of the Atlantic there were millions in prospect; and if I did not succeed from the beginning, my wife, who drew and painted better than an amateur,--as well as most painters, indeed,--and who had excellent letters of recommendation, would give drawing-lessons in New Orleans, where the company had its head-quarters. We decided to go; but first we came to Paris. I wished to say good-by to you and to show you my son, my poor little George, of whom I was so proud, and whom you did not know. He was then two and one-half years old. My decision had been taken so suddenly that I could not announce it to you. When we arrived in Paris, we learned that you were in Nice. I wrote to you,--don't you remember?" said Monsieur Roger, turning to Monsieur Dalize.

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"Yes, my friend; I have carefully kept that letter of farewell, full of hope and of enthusiasm."

"We were going to embark from Liverpool on the steamer which would go directly to New Orleans. The steamer was called the Britannic."

Monsieur Roger stopped speaking, full of emotion at this recollection.

At the end of a long silence he again took up the thread of his story.

"The first days of the journey we had had bad weather. And I had pa.s.sed them almost entirely in our state-room with my poor wife and my little boy, who were very sea-sick. On the tenth day (it was the 14th of December) the weather cleared up, and, notwithstanding a brisk wind from the north-east, we were on the deck after dinner. The night had come; the stars were already out, though every now and then hidden under clouds high up in the sky, which fled quickly out of sight. We were in the archipelago of Bahama, not far from Florida.

"'One day more and we shall be in port,' I said to my wife and to George, pointing in the direction of New Orleans.

"My wife, full of hope,--too full, alas! poor girl,--said to me, with a smile, as she pointed to George,--

"'And this fortune that we have come so far to find, but which we shall conquer without doubt, this fortune will all be for this little gentleman.'

"George, whom I had just taken upon my knees, guessed that we were speaking of him, and he threw his little arms around my neck and touched my face with his lips."

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CHAPTER V.