"NO, François, my son," said she, "that is not it. My husband is not
yet ruined, as far as I know anything of his affairs, and if it were
only the fear of want, you would not see me so unhappy. Nobody need
dread poverty who has courage to work. Since you must hear why it is
that I am so sick at heart, let me tell you that Monsieur Blanchet is in
a fury against you, and will no longer endure your presence in his
house."
"Is that it?" cried François, springing up. "He may as well kill me
outright, as I cannot live after such a blow. Yes, let him put an end to
me, for he has long disliked me and longed to have me die, I know. Let
me see, where is he? I will go to him and say, 'Tell me why you drive me
away, and perhaps I can prove to you that you are mistaken in your
reasons. But if you persist, say so, that--that--' I do not know what I
am saying, Madeleine; truly, I do not know; I have lost my senses, and I
can no longer see clearly; my heart is pierced and my head is turning I
am sure I shall either die or go mad."
The poor waif threw himself on the ground, and struck his head with his
fists, as he had done when Zabelle had tried to take him back to the
asylum.
When Madeleine saw this, her high spirit returned. She took him by the
hands and arms, and shaking him, forced him to listen to her.
"If you have no more resignation and strength of will than a child,"
said she, "you do not deserve my love, and you will shame me for
bringing you up as my son. Get up. You are a man in years, and a man
should not roll on the ground, as you are doing. Listen, François, and
tell me whether you love me enough to go without seeing me for a time.
Look, my child, it is for my peace and good name, for otherwise my
husband will subject me to annoyance and humiliation. So you must leave
me to-day, out of love, just as I have kept you, out of love, to this
day; for love shows itself in different ways according to time and
circumstance. You must leave me without delay, because, in order to
prevent Monsieur Blanchet from committing a crime, I promised that you
should be gone to-morrow morning. To-morrow is Saint John's day, and you
must go and find a place; but not too near at hand, for if we were able
to see each other every day, it would be all the worse in Monsieur
Blanchet's mind."
"What has he in his mind, Madeleine? Of what does he complain? How have
I behaved amiss? Does he think that you rob the house to help me? That
cannot be, because now I am one of his household. I eat only enough to
satisfy my hunger, and I do not steal a pin from him. Perhaps he thinks
that I take my wages, and that I cost him too much. Very well, let me
follow out my purpose of going to explain to him that since my poor
mother Zabelle died, I have never received a single penny; or, if you do
not want me to tell him this,--and indeed if he knew it, he would try to
make you pay back all the money due on my wages that you have spent in
charity--well, I will make him this proposition for the next year. I
will offer to remain in your service for nothing. In this way he cannot
think me a burden, and will allow me to stay with you."
"No, no, no, François," cried Madeleine, hastily, "it is not possible;
and if you said this to him, he would fly into such a rage with you and
me that worse would come of it."
"But why?" asked François; "what is he angry about? Is it only for the
pleasure of making us unhappy that he pretends to mistrust me?"
"My child, do not ask the reason of his anger for I cannot tell you. I
should be too much ashamed, and you had better not even try to guess;
but I can assure you that your duty toward me is to go away. You are
tall and strong, and can do without me; and you will earn your living
better elsewhere, as long as you will take nothing from me. All sons
have to leave their mothers when they go out to work, and many go far
away. You must go like the rest, and I shall grieve as all mothers do. I
shall weep for you and think of you, and pray God morning and evening to
shield you from all ill."
"Yes, and you will take another servant who will serve you ill, who will
take no care of your son or your property, who will perhaps hate you, if
Monsieur Blanchet orders him not to obey you, and will repeat and
misrepresent to him all the kind things you do. You may be unhappy, and
I shall not be with you to protect and comfort you. Ah! you think that I
have no courage because I am miserable? You believe that I am thinking
only of myself, and tell me that I shall earn more money elsewhere! I am
not thinking of myself at all. What is it to me whether I gain or lose?
I do not even care to know whether I shall be able to control my
despair. I shall live or die as may please God, and it makes no
difference to me, as long as I am prevented from devoting my life to
you. What gives me intolerable anguish is that I see trouble ahead for
you. You will be trampled upon in your turn, and if Monsieur Blanchet
puts me out of the way, it is that he may the more easily walk over your
rights."
"Even if God permits this," said Madeleine, "I must bear what I cannot
help. It is wrong to make one's fate worse by kicking against the
pricks. You know that I am very unhappy, and you may imagine how much
more wretched I should be if I learned that you were ill, disgusted with
life, and unwilling to be comforted. But if I can find any consolation
in my affliction, it will be because I hear that you are well behaved,
and keep up your health and courage out of love for me."
This last excellent reason gave Madeleine the advantage. The waif gave
in, and promised on his knees, as if in the confessional, that he would
do his best to bear his sorrow bravely.
"Then," said he, as he wiped his eyes, "if I must go to-morrow morning,
I shall say good-by to you now, my mother Madeleine. Farewell, for this
life, perhaps; for you do not tell me if I shall ever see you and talk
with you again. If you do not think I shall ever have such happiness, do
not say so, for I should lose courage to live. Let me keep the hope of
meeting you one day here by this clear fountain, where I met you the
first time nearly eleven years ago. From that day to this, I have had
nothing but happiness; I must not forget all the joys that God has given
me through you, but shall keep them in remembrance, so that they may
help me to bear, from to-morrow onward, all that time and fate may
bring. I carry away a heart pierced and benumbed with anguish, knowing
that you are unhappy, and that in me you lose your best friend. You tell
me that your distress will be greater if I do not take heart, so I shall
sustain myself as best I may, by thoughts of you, and I value your
affection too much to forfeit it by cowardice. Farewell, Madame
Blanchet; leave me here alone a little while; I shall feel better when I
have cried my fill. If any of my tears fall into this fountain, you will
think of me whenever you come to wash here. I am going to gather some of
this mint to perfume my linen. I must soon pack my bundle; and as long
as I smell the sweet fragrance among my clothes, I shall imagine that I
am here and see you before me. Farewell, farewell, my dear mother; I
shall not go back with you to the house. I might kiss little Jeannie,
without waking him, but I have not the heart. You must kiss him for me;
and to keep him from crying, please tell him to-morrow that I am coming
back soon. So, while he is expecting me, he will have time to forget me
a little; and then later, you must talk to him of poor François, so
that he may not forget me too much. Give me your blessing, Madeleine, as
you gave it to me on the day of my first communion, for it will bring
with it the grace of God."
The poor waif knelt down before Madeleine, entreating her to forgive him
if he had ever offended her against his will.
Madeleine declared that she had nothing to forgive him, and that she
wished her blessing could prove as beneficent as that of God.
"Now," said François, "that I am again a waif, and that nobody will
ever love me any more, will not you kiss me as you once kissed me, in
kindness, on the day of my first communion? I shall need to remember
this, so that I may be very sure that you still love me in your heart,
like a mother."
Madeleine kissed the waif in the same pure spirit as when he was a
little child. Yet anybody who had seen her would have fancied there was
some justification for Monsieur Blanchet's anger, and would have blamed
this faithful woman, who had no thought of ill, and whose action could
not have displeased the Virgin Mary.
"Nor me, either," put in the priest's servant.
"And me still less," returned the hemp-dresser. Then he resumed:
She returned to the house, but not to sleep. She heard François come in
and do up his bundle in the next room, and she heard him go out again at
daybreak. She did not get up till he had gone some little distance, so
as not to weaken his courage, but when she heard his steps on the little
bridge, she opened the door a crack, without allowing herself to be
seen, so that she might catch one more last glimpse of him. She saw him
stop and look back at the river and mill, as if to bid them farewell.
Then he strode away very rapidly, after first picking a branch of poplar
and putting it in his hat, as men do when they go out for hire, to show
that they are trying to find a place.
Master Blanchet came in toward noon, but did not speak till his wife
said:
"You must go out and hire another boy for your mill, for François has
gone, and you are without a servant."
"That is quite enough, wife," answered Blanchet. "I shall go, but I warn
you not to expect another young fellow."
As these were all the thanks he gave her for her submission, her
feelings were so much wounded that she could not help showing it.
"Cadet Blanchet," said she, "I have obeyed your will; I have sent an
excellent boy away without a motive, and I must confess that I did so
with regret. I do not ask for your gratitude, but, in my turn, I have
something to command you, and that is not to insult me, for I do not
deserve it."
She said this in a manner so new to Blanchet, that it produced its
effect on him.
"Come, wife," said he, holding out his hand to her, "let us make a truce
to all this, and think no more about it. Perhaps I may have been a
little hasty in what I said; but you see I had my own reasons for not
trusting the waif. The devil is the father of all those children, and he
is always after them. They may be good in some ways, but they are sure
to be scamps in others. I know that it will be hard for me to find
another such hard worker for a servant; but the devil, who is a good
father, had whispered wantonness into that boy's ear, and I know one
woman who had a complaint against him."
"That woman is not your wife," rejoined Madeleine, "and she may be
lying. Even if she told the truth, that would be no cause for suspecting
me."
"Do I suspect you?" said Blanchet, shrugging his shoulders. "My grudge
was only against him, and now that he has gone, I have forgotten about
it. If I said anything displeasing to you, you must take it in jest."
"Such jests are not to my taste," answered Madeleine. "Keep them for
those who like them."
[Illustration]