Seated in an arm-chair, now feebly turning over the leaves of his
"Souvenirs of Forty Years," now letting his dimmed eyes wander
listlessly over the broad expanse of fields and woodlands outside the
windows, Ferdinand de Lesseps, the great Frenchman, drags out the
agony of his old age.
The visitor to him in his retreat arrives at La Chesnaye to some
extent attuned to melancholy, for the long diligence ride from the
nearest railway station, twenty-four kilometres away, is across a most
desolate country. This part of the ancient duchy of Berry is one of
the districts in France which has most suffered by the ruin of the
vine-culture; the lands seem deserted and abandoned; the roads are
neglected, and little life is seen anywhere till the sleepy burgh of
Vatan is reached. From Vatan, which is a market-town on the old and
now disused high-road from Paris to Toulouse, to the chateau of La
Chesnaye, there are four more kilometres of road across an equally
desolate country to be taken. The buildings of the home farm are the
first human habitations that one sees all the long way. An oppressive
sense of desolation imposes itself on even the casual wayfarer, and
prepares for the sorrowful sight that awaits him who goes to La
Chesnaye to salute the fallen greatness of the old man who but two
years ago was the greatest Frenchman in France.
The chateau of La Chesnaye, a modest country-house of irregular shape
and flanked at the angles with towers, has been in the possession of
M. de Lesseps for fifty years. Except for a large modern wing, it
stands just as Agnes Sorel, its first occupant, left it. In her days
it had served as a hunting-box for her royal patron and the Berry
squires, and at present is still surrounded with fields scantily
timbered. There is no well-kept lawn, but the fields of grass are full
of violets, and there is a trim look about the stables. On a bright
day the white of the stone, contrasted with the green of the grass,
gives a cheerful look to the scene, but it is indescribably mournful
of aspect in the days of rain and snow and wind.
About half a mile on the road before the chateau is in sight, an
avenue of trees is reached. "Those trees were planted by M. de Lesseps
himself, forty years ago, and every time that he passes this way he
relates the fact."
So spoke to me the English governess of the De Lesseps children, whom
Madame de Lesseps had despatched to meet me with the pony-carriage at
Vatan.
"The countess is terribly busy to-day with her papers, for she is
expecting a barrister from Paris, who is to receive some instructions
in view of the new trial; but she will manage to give you an hour, and
wants you to drive to church with her, so that you can talk on the
way." As we entered the courtyard the countess's carriage was in
waiting at the front entrance. It was the landau of the days of
triumphant drives in the Champs Elysees, and the horses were the same
pair which excited the admiration and envy of the connoisseurs of the
Avenue des Acacias, "Juliette" and "Panama," which latter is now never
called by that name. It is talked about as "the other," for the
ill-fated word, Panama, is never even whispered, lest any echo of it
should reach the ears of him to whom this word has meant ruin and
disgrace and a broken heart. I waited for the countess at the bottom
of the spiral stair-case, and presently saw a lady descending, who
greeted me in a familiar voice, but whom I failed to recognize. "But,
yes," she said, holding out her hand, "I am Madame de Lesseps. I have
changed, have I not?"
[Illustration: THE CHATEAU DE LA CHESNAYE.]
When I last met Madame de Lesseps in Paris, though at that time the
shadow of the present was already upon her, she was in the full of her
matronly beauty, large, ample, and flourishing. It was a wasted woman
who addressed me, pinched and thin. "If I were to remove my veil," she
added, "you would see an even greater change."
"It is a sad moment that you have chosen to visit us, and you find us
in terrible circumstances," she said as we drove away. Then turning to
the lady who accompanied her, she remarked, "This is the first time I
have been out for three weeks, and I ought not to have gone out
to-day, except for the fact that I can't miss going to church again.
It is the only comfort I have left to me. All my days and most of my
nights, when not attending on my husband, are taken up answering
letters and telegrams which keep pouring in upon me from all parts of
the world. And then I am in constant correspondence with the lawyers
in Paris as to the prosecution of my son for corruption, and the
revision of the last judgment of the Court of Appeal."
The church which is attended by the La Chesnaye party is situated in a
village about three miles off, which is called Guilly, "the mistletoe
hamlet," as all the trees around are covered with this parasite. We
were passing a fine old oak tree, the upper part of which was loaded
with mistletoe, when the lady who was with us laughed scornfully, and,
pointing, said: "One would say Herz, Arton, and the rest," referring
to the Panama parasites. "Would you believe me," said Madame de
Lesseps, "that until these recent revelations I had never even heard
the names of either Arton or Herz or the Baron de Reinach?"
[Illustration: COUNT DE LESSEPS IN 1869.]
Outside the church was standing a _char-a-banc_ drawn by two horses,
and it was in this that, after service, I returned to La Chesnaye with
the children and the governesses. It was interesting to see how
devoted the people of Guilly seem to be to the De Lesseps family, and
how the men and women bowed and courtesied as the countess came out
of church. Here, as at Vatan and in all the district, the love and
respect for "Monsieur le Comte" have been increased rather than
diminished by the persecutions to which he has been subjected. It was
on the great fair-day at Vatan that the news of his condemnation was
made public, and at once the villagers, in sign of mourning,
stopped the public ball which is a _fete_ to which the young
people of the district look forward for months beforehand. Sturdy
Berrichon lads have been seen to flourish their sticks and heard
to say that the Parisians had better keep their hands off "Monsieur le
Comte." Nor is it surprising that in his own country M. de Lesseps
should be loved and venerated. Always delighting in acts of
kindness, his generosity towards his poor neighbors throughout the
district has been constant and large-handed. Never a marriage
takes place in any of the surrounding villages but that a handsome
present from La Chesnaye is thrown into the bride's _corbeille_.
The children are dressed for confirmation at the expense of the
chateau; layettes are found for poor mothers, and no case of
distress is allowed to pass unrelieved. Since the heavy losses which
the Panama failure has entailed on the family, no change nor
diminution in these liberalities has been made. But perhaps what
the people in the district like the best in the La Chesnaye folk is
their extreme simplicity. Chateau folk are not generally very popular
in France, and certainly not in republican circumscriptions,
because republican electors of the peasant class have inherited
prejudices about them; and if the De Lesseps family is so very
popular, it is because of the extreme simplicity of their manners and
of the way in which they live the lives of the people around them. For
instance, not the children alone, but even the elegant Madame de
Lesseps herself, are dressed in clothes purchased and made in Vatan.
Nothing is got from Paris, and the Vatan people are highly pleased
with the unusual compliment thus paid to them. By the church at Guilly
is an orphanage, which was founded by the De Lesseps, and is
entirely kept up at their expense. It is a rule with Madame de
Lesseps to pay a visit to this orphanage each Sunday after mass,
and, accordingly, as she left church she asked me to return home
with the children. Of these there are now seven at home; Matthew, who
has just returned on sick leave from the Soudan, being in Paris near
his stepbrother Charles. Ismail is serving in the army as a
soldier in a regiment of _chasseurs_ at St. Germain; and the
eldest daughter, the Comtesse de Gontaut-Biron, is in Nice,
whither she has been sent by her doctors. Lolo, aged eighteen, is
the eldest girl at home; and Paul, a handsome lad of twelve, with
long ringlets down his back, is the eldest boy. The youngest children
are mere babies. There is Zi-Zi, a tiny little boy, with fair
curls and dark eyes; and Griselle, a charming little mite, who on
that Sunday was dressed in a Kate Greenaway bonnet and gown, and
looked sweetly pretty. The _char-a-banc_, spacious as it was, was
quite filled. Besides all the children from Lolo down to Zi-Zi, there
were the English and German governesses, Paul and Robert's tutor,
the niece of Madame de Lesseps who for many years past has lived
with the family, and an intimate friend, Mademoiselle Mimaut.
It was a merry party, and yet whenever the name of the poor old father
at home was mentioned, silence came over the prattle of the children.
"They all feel it deeply," said Madame de Lesseps to me later on,
"though their youth often gets the better of their feelings. And what
grieves them all most is, to know that their brother Charles, whom
they all love and respect like a second father, is in prison, whilst
they can run about. Zi-Zi and Griselle write to him every day at Mazas
or the Conciergerie, and send him violets, and little stories which
they compose for his amusement, spending long hours inking their
fingers over their paper."
About half-way home the carriage passed the rural postman trudging
along on his daily thirty-mile round. The children would have the
carriage stopped, and, though it was quite full, place was made for
him. Father Pierre seemed quite a favorite with the children, for is
it not he, as little Griselle said, who brings letters from brother
Charles? Charles, it seems, writes every day, and his letters, to
judge by what every member of the family told me, are admirable in
their manly unselfishness. There is never a word of complaint about
the wretchedness of his position; his only anxiety is about his
father, and he is ready to undergo everything so that the old man may
be spared a moment's pain. Ruined, disgraced, though not dishonored,
having to face a long period of imprisonment, which at his age and in
his physical condition may kill him, he affects in his letters the
greatest cheerfulness. Nor is his heroic unselfishness without its
reward. He is the idol of everybody at La Chesnaye and for miles
around. Only one complaint has escaped him since his confinement, and
that was when, during his hurried visit, under guard, to his father,
he went with the children for a favorite walk to a neighboring wood.
Here, as he was walking along the avenue which runs through some
magnificent timber, he looked around at the detectives behind him, and
said with a sigh: "And to-morrow I shall be again within four gray
walls." But immediately he added, that if he could only be allowed to
come and pass an afternoon in the wood with his brothers and sisters
every month, he would not mind his confinement in the least, and could
resign himself to the prospect of imprisonment for the rest of his
days. Yet he is past fifty-three, and his health has suffered terribly
from what he has undergone.
The half hour before lunch was spent by the children in showing their
pets. A prime favorite with them just now is a little Newfoundland
puppy, which has quite dethroned in their affections an old shepherd
dog, who, as Zi-Zi relates, "came one day and liked us so much that
she has never left us." Another pet of whom a great deal is made is an
African monkey which Matthew brought home from the Soudan. It is
called Bou-Bou, and when it is scolded it hides its face in its hands.
It is quite tame, and runs about without a chain.
Just before lunch the children set about picking violets, each a
bunch. This they do every day. One is for Charles at Mazas, another
for Madame de Lesseps, but the sweetest is for the old father to wear
in his buttonhole at lunch, which is the only meal he takes with the
family. The child whose bouquet is worn by the father is the proudest
child in Berry that day.
I could not refrain from a movement of the most painful surprise
when, after a few moments spent in the drawing-room, I was invited by
Madame de Lesseps into the room where her husband sat. I have known M.
de Lesseps for many years, and though the last time that I saw him he
was already under the influence of the sorrow of defeat--it was
just after he had been called before a magistrate, for examination--my
recollection of him had always been as of a man full of the most
surprising vitality and high spirits, keen, bright, energetic,
defying the wear of time, a man of eternal youth in spite of his
white hairs. I remembered him last, erect, with clear voice and
flashing eyes, and now I saw him huddled together in a chair, a wrap
about his knees, nodding his head as under sleep, pale, inert, and
with all the life gone out of his eyes. Behind him stood a large
screen tapestried with red stuff, against which the waxen whiteness
of his face and hands stood out in strong relief. How old he
looked, whom age had seemed to spare so long! For the most part
the head drooped forward on his chest, but now and then he raised it
listlessly and let his eyes wander round the room, or across the
panes on to the fields beyond. There was rarely recognition in his
glance; mostly a look of unalterable sadness--of wonder, it may be,
at the terrible hazards of life. Yet, when now and then one of the
children, who were crowding about his chair, pressed his hand or
kissed his cheek or said some words of endearment to him, the smile
which was one of his characteristics came over his face, and for a
brief moment he seemed himself again. Himself again--that is to say,
in the goodness and great-heartedness which more than all he has ever
done for France merited for him the name of the great Frenchman. For
greatness of heart has always been the keynote of the character of
Ferdinand de Lesseps. It was the secret of the indescribable
seduction which he exercised over everyone who came near him, from
emperor to laborer. It was to this quality of his that M. Renan,
albeit a sceptic himself, rendered such signal homage in the speech
in which he welcomed M. de Lesseps to the French Academy on the day
of his admittance.
"You were good to all who came," said M. Renan; "you made them feel
that their past would be effaced and that a new life lay before them.
In exchange you only asked them to share your enthusiasm in the work
which you had devoted to the interest of France. You held that most
people can amend if only one will forget their past. One day a whole
gang of convicts arrived at Panama and took work at the canal. The
Austrian consul demanded that they should be handed over to him; but
you delayed giving satisfaction to his request, and at the end of some
weeks the Austrian consulate was fully occupied in remitting home to
Austria, to their families, or, it may be, to their victims, the
moneys which these outcasts whom you had transformed into honest
workmen were earning with the work of their hands. You have declared
your faith in humanity. You have convinced yourself and tried to
convince others that men are loyal and good if only they have the
wherewithal to live. It is your opinion that it is only hunger that
makes men bad. 'Never,' said you in one of your lectures, 'have I had
cause for complaint against any of the workmen, although I have
employed outcasts, pariahs, and convicts. Work has redeemed even the
most dishonest. I have never been robbed, not even of a handkerchief.
It is a fact which I have proved, that men can be brought to do
anything by showing them kindness and by persuading them that they are
working in a cause of universal interest.' Thus you have made green
again what seemed withered for ever and aye. You have given, in a
century of unbelief, a startling proof of the efficacy of faith."
[Illustration: MADAME DE LESSEPS IN 1880.]
A thousand instances of this kindness of heart might be cited to show
that M. de Lesseps ever remained a chivalrous gentleman in the best
sense of the word. A trifling experience of my own may suffice. A few
days after my first visit to him, at the office of the Suez Canal, I
was dining at a house in the Cours-la-Reine. It was my first visit to
that house, a fact which somewhat contributed to my embarrassment in
what was one of my first experiences in Parisian society. Amongst the
guests was the editor of one of the principal French papers, and being
anxious to make his acquaintance, I asked our host to introduce me to
my _confrere_. The editor in question had no courtesies to waste upon
an insignificant foreigner, and acknowledged my bow with a reverence
of exaggerated profundity, bowing almost to the earth, and then
swinging round on his heel to continue a conversation with another
journalist, which had been interrupted by the introduction. I was left
standing in the middle of the room, with my eyes on the editor's back,
suffused with shame and mortification. M. de Lesseps saw the slight
thus inflicted on a young man, and from kindness of heart immediately
did what he could to efface it. From his place at the fire, where he
had been standing surrounded by the usual crowd of courtiers, he had
noticed the incident, and I saw him making his way across the
drawing-room towards me, exclaiming to those around him: "Oh, there is
a young man with whom I must have a few words!" He then took me by the
hand, drew me aside, and remained conversing with me until dinner was
announced.
[Illustration: COUNT DE LESSEPS IN 1880.]
In view of the awful change that, within so short a time, has been
made in this gentleman, I cannot but think that it must be attributed
to the shock produced in a very old man by an experience which
shows him that he has been mistaken all his life long. It is
terrible to wake up at eighty-five and find that things are not
what one has believed during his past life, and that the men whom
one has loved and respected are unworthy. I believe that what has
struck Ferdinand de Lesseps down in his chair, in full vitality, is
an immense disappointment, not at the failure of his hopes, for he
has always been indifferent to money, and has never had the wish to
leave his children large fortunes, but at the falseness of a creed
which was optimistic to the point of blindness. I believe that
Ferdinand de Lesseps is dying of a broken heart, broken by the immense
ingratitude of men. And if the loss of all the money that has been
sunk in the Panama mud and the pockets of the intrigants of the
Third Republic adds to his sorrow, it is certainly not for himself
nor his family, but for all those who are suffering because they
shared his belief in his star, and who blindly followed him to
ruin. He knew that they were of the humble, and often told me so.
"Panama will be carried out with the savings in woollen stockings of
the peasant and of the workman," he used to say. He has never been
self-seeking. He presented France with a concession, that of the Suez
Canal, estimated at one hundred millions of francs, and with
lands worth another thirty millions, and fought heroically for years
to render to his gift its greatest value. In the words of M. Renan,
the courage, the energy, the resources of all sorts expended by M.
de Lesseps in this struggle were nothing short of prodigious. In
exchange he took for himself enough to enable him to lead the life
of a gentleman and to do good around him. Each of his children he
endowed with not more than seventy thousand francs, the revenues
from which, together with his wife's private fortune, are now all
that remain to the family. I firmly believe that all his life he
acted only from feelings of philanthropy and from patriotism of the
most chivalrous type. He never had any desire to leave a large
fortune, and I can remember his saying to me, very emphatically, that
his children must do as he had done; and that they would do so if
they were worthy of his name; and that he never wished to leave them
large fortunes, but an honorable name, a love for their country equal
to his, and an example which he hoped they would follow. "Let them
work as I have done," said this most tender of fathers.
It seems that not even this heritage of an honored name is, if the
persecutors of the old man can have their way, to be left to his
family. Since he has been down the number of his adversaries has of
course increased tenfold. Even those who owe him all--many officials
at the Suez Canal Company, for instance, who owe their positions and
fortunes to his genius--seem glad to revenge themselves for their
obligation. De Lesseps has done too much good to men not to be hated,
and it is to be regretted that poor De Maupassant cannot wield his pen
in analysis of the motives which are actuating his former dependents
in their endeavors to renounce all solidarity with the dying
octogenarian of La Chesnaye. I visited the offices of the Suez Canal
Company a few days ago, and, prepared as one is for human ingratitude,
it was distressing in the extreme to see how poor a thing to charm
with was the name at the sound of which, as I can well remember, all
the flunkeys of the place in livery or black frock coat doubled up in
the days that are past. The lion is down, and every ass of Paris has a
heel to kick him with.
[Illustration: COUNT DE LESSEPS IN 1892.]
On the other hand, the adversities of the De Lesseps family have
revealed to them the immense number of friends which they possess in
all parts of the world. Letters and telegrams keep pouring in from all
sides to La Chesnaye, and all the available pens are kept busy most of
the day and night in answering the kindest expressions of sympathy,
many from utter strangers. "This is the only thing that gives me
courage to bear it all," said Madame de Lesseps. Helene told me, with
some amusement, that a Spanish banker had the day before written to
Madame de Lesseps to offer her a present of a million, and that there
had been many similar offers of pecuniary assistance from people who
believed the family to be totally ruined. When Charles was down at La
Chesnaye, and was walking in the woods with his escort behind him, a
serious offer was made to him by friends who had gathered around him,
to effect his rescue if he would but give the word. As for tokens of
sympathy from all the country around, they are unending. The farmer at
the home-farm, which was built by M. de Lesseps, and which has been in
the occupation of the present tenants from the beginning, was at
dinner when the paper containing the news of Charles's conviction and
sentence reached him. "He turned quite white," said his wife to me,
"and rushed out of the house and went roaming about the woods like a
demented man until late at night. And I have cried every time I have
thought of M. Charles, whom I knew when he was a baby not higher than
my knee." But perhaps the most devoted friend that remains to the
family is M. de Lesseps's valet, who since his master's fall has never
left him for more than ten minutes together, sleeping on a mattress in
his bedroom, and waiting on him patiently all day and all night.
"Don't let anyone, I don't care who it may be," he says, clenching his
fist, "come near my master. I will be killed before any offence shall
be put upon him." And though one is rather sceptical as to such
professions, I fully believe that in this case they are sincere. It
was touching to note with what reverence, when lunch was served, this
valet approached his master, and, mindful of old formalities of
respect, bowed and said that Monsieur the Count was served; to note
with what womanly gentleness this strong man lifted his feeble master
up and guided his tottering steps into the adjoining dining-room.
What a beautiful family it was, to be sure, that gathered round that
table! Paul with his girlish ringlets, Robert also in curls. Helene,
who sat next to her father, with her jet-black hair loose down her
back, and her bright eyes contrasting with the ivory pallor of her
face, worn out as the poor child is with care and sorrow and hard work
as her mother's penwoman. Then there was Lolo, a young lady of
eighteen, roughly dressed, but of great elegance, who looked even
sadder than the rest, but who tried to be bright and gay; and on the
other side of her, Solange, who though she is quite a woman in
appearance, hates to be considered so, and wants to be treated as a
child, and refuses to wear long dresses, and loves to climb trees in
the park and to give picnics to her little brothers and sisters in a
mud hovel which she has constructed in the garden. Then there is Zi-Zi
and Griselle--more than twenty in all around the long oval table.
Every now and then one of the children rises from its seat, and runs
up to the old father and kisses him on the cheek, or presses his hand;
and I think all envied Helene who sat next to him and could caress him
when she liked. I was seated just opposite the old man, and I am
afraid my presence disturbed him; for he seemed to listen to what I
said, and to wonder who I was, and what I might want. I shall never
forget the sight of him as he faced me, sunk down in his chair, with
one trembling hand holding his napkin to his breast, and feebly with
the other guiding the morsels to his mouth. He seemed to eat with some
appetite, though under persistent drowsiness, which was only shaken
off for a moment when his wife, who came in late, took her seat at the
table. Then his head was lifted, and a bright look came into his eyes,
as if of salute to the comrade of his life. Whatever Madame de Lesseps
may have suffered, I am sure that she feels herself repaid each time
that those eyes are so lifted to hers. The _dejeuner_ was a simple
though ample one, the _menu_ being in keeping with the manner of life
at Chesnaye, which is that of comfort without ostentation. The wine is
grown by Madame de Lesseps herself, on vineyards of her own planting,
and is that "gray wine" which is so much appreciated by connoisseurs.
It has a beautiful color in a cut-glass decanter. The conversation was
a halting one. Each tried to be gay, each tried to forget the deep
shadow that lay over that family gathering. When the old man's eyes
wandered around the table as if in quest of some one whom he desired
but who was not there, a silence imposed itself on all, for all knew
whom he was seeking, and where that dear one was.
In his buttonhole was Helene's bouquet of violets, underneath which
peeped out the rosette of the grand officer of the Legion of Honor,
alas, in jeopardy!
We took coffee in the drawing-room. It was served on a table which
stood underneath a fine portrait of Agnes Sorel, once the mistress of
the house. Facing us were two pictures of the inauguration of the Suez
Canal. The furniture was covered with tapestries mostly from the
needle of the countess.
It was here that Madame de Lesseps told me of the old man's present
life. "He has the fixed idea that the Queen of England will come and
make all things right. He often rises in his chair and asks if Queen
Victoria has arrived, and when any visitor comes he thinks that it is
she at last."
Then blanching the countess added, "You think, sir, do you not, that
he is in ignorance of what has happened? You do not think that he has
any suspicion? Sometimes the dreadful thought troubles me that he
knows all, and that, great-hearted gentleman that he is, he lends
himself to this most tragic comedy that we are playing. I sometimes
doubt. Would not that be terrible? And again there are times when I am
convinced that our efforts to hide all that is, are successful. We
give him last year's papers to read. I have had collections sent down.
Formerly we used to cut out or erase parts which we did not want him
to see, but he seemed to notice the alterations, and so we ordered
down papers of a year ago. And it is quite pathetic to hear the
remarks he occasionally makes. Thus a few days ago he called me to his
side in high glee, and said how happy he was to hear that his old
friend M. Ressman had been appointed Italian Ambassador to France, an
event of more than a year ago. There are times, too, when he gets very
impatient at being kept down here, and what he misses chiefly is the
French Academy. He is constantly telling me how anxious he is to
attend, and I have to invent the sorriest fables to explain to him
that the Academicians are not holding any meetings; as, for instance,
that they are all old men, and that they are taking a long holiday."
The countess sighed and said: "I do what I can, but that terrible
doubt pursues me often. You see, he did know that the Panama affair
had resulted in ruin. It is since he was called before that examining
magistrate, M. Prinet, that he has been as you have seen him. He must
suspect something. How much, we shall never know."
Then she added: "He is constantly asking after Charles. He knows that
he is in trouble, but we hope that he does not suspect what the
trouble is. Before he was taken as he is, Charles had, to his
knowledge, become involved in that Societe des Comptes Courants
bankruptcy, which ruined him; and perhaps his father thinks that his
son's troubles are in connection with that affair." Then the
stepmother broke out into impassioned praise of the stepson: "The
noblest heart! He will suffer all, rather than let the slightest harm
come to his father. He is a hero, a gentleman, a hero, a hero! When he
was here he told us what he had undergone, and said that he was
willing to undergo ten times as much, so that his father be left
unmolested.
"It is strangers who send us expressions of their sympathy. Those whom
De Lesseps has enriched have forgotten him. And yet I am unjust. I
have had letters from people who risked their positions, their daily
bread, in writing to me as they did. But not a single political man
has written a word to express condolence with the great patriot or
with his family. They dare not. None of my letters are safe. Many of
my friends have received my letters open. Many letters addressed to me
have gone astray. It is dangerous to-day to be the friend of the man
who gave a fortune to his country.
"He sits there all day," she continued, "and reads his 'Souvenirs of
Forty Years,' the 'Souvenirs' which he has dedicated to his children.
And at times he is quite his old self again, but drowsiness is always
coming upon him. _Mon Dieu!_ that he may be spared to us a little
longer!"
Helene just then passed through the room. "There is a paper in papa's
room," she whispered, "which I must take away. There is the word
Panama upon it."
Our conversation was with bated breath, and the ill-fated word was
scouted like an unclean thing.
And whilst we were talking, the sunny, curly-headed Paul ran into the
room and cried out: "Oh, do come and see papa! Bou-Bou has jumped onto
his shoulder and is picking his violets."
We moved towards the door, and this was the last that I saw, or may
ever see, of Ferdinand de Lesseps. Against the red background of the
twofold screen he sat sunken, asleep, in his arm-chair, with the two
volumes that tell the story of his heroism in his lap, and on his
shoulders perched a grinning Barbary ape, pulling at and munching the
violets which Helene had picked for him, and which hid in his
buttonhole his jeopardized rosette of the Legion of Honor. Around him
stood his children, and it was sad to see, and sadder still to think,
that, his family excepted, what holds this great heart and splendid
gentleman in dearest affection is not the millionaire grown rich on
his achievements, but a witless, speechless thing, that perhaps has
feeling what a great and generous heart is here.