AN UNRESPECTED FUNERAL
There was considerable bustle and excitement at the chateau all that
evening. First M. and Mme. Stanislas Paindavoine, who had received a
telegram from Theodore, arrived. Then M. and Mme. Bretoneux, sent for by
Casimir, came. After that came Mme. Bretoneux's two daughters, their
husbands and children. No one wished to miss the funeral service for
poor dear Edmond.
Besides, this was the decisive moment for clever manoeuvring. What a
disaster if this big industry should fall into the hands of one so
incapable as Theodore! What a misfortune if Casimir took charge! Neither
side thought that a partnership could be possible, and the two cousins
share alike. Each wanted all for himself.
Both Mme. Bretoneux and Mme. Paindavoine had ignored Perrine since their
arrival. They had given her to understand that they did not require her
services any longer.
She sat in her room hoping that M. Vulfran would send for her so that
she could help him into the church, as she had done every Sunday since
William had gone. But she waited in vain. When the bells, which had
been tolling since the evening before, announced mass, she saw him get
up into his carriage leaning on his brother's arm, while his sister and
sister-in-law, with the members of their families, took their places in
other carriages.
She had no time to lose, for she had to walk. She hurried off.
After she had left the house over which Death had spread its shroud, she
was surprised to notice as she hastened through the village that the
taverns had taken on their Sunday air. The men drank and laughed and the
women chatted at their doors, while the children played in the street.
Perrine wondered if none of them were going to attend the service.
Upon entering the church, where she had been afraid that she would not
find room, she saw that it was almost empty. The bereaved family sat in
the choir; here and there was some village authority, a tradesman and
the heads of the factories. Very few of the working men and women were
present; they had not thought to come and join their prayers to those of
their employer.
Perrine took a seat beside Rosalie and her grandmother, who was in deep
mourning.
"Alas! my poor little Edmond," murmured the old nurse, wiping her eyes.
"What did M. Vulfran say?"
But Perrine was too overcome to reply. The services commenced.
As she left the church, Mlle. Belhomme came up to her, and, like
Francoise, wanted to question her about M. Vulfran. Perrine told her
that he had not spoken to her since the evening before.
"As I saw him kneeling there so crushed and broken for the first time, I
was pleased that he was blind," said the governess sadly.
"Why?" asked Perrine.
"Because he could not see how few people came to the church. What
indifference his men have shown! If he could have seen that empty church
it would have added to his grief."
"I think he must have known how few there were there," said Perrine.
"His ears take the place of his eyes, and that empty silence could not
deceive him."
"Poor man," murmured Mlle. Belhomme; "and yet...."
She paused. Then, as she was not in the habit of holding anything back,
she went on: "And yet it will be a great lesson to him. You know, my
child, you cannot expect others to share your sorrows if you are not
willing to share theirs.
"M. Vulfran gives his men what he considers their due," she continued,
in a lower voice. "He is just, but that is all. He has never been a
father to his men. He is all for business, business only. What a lot of
good he could have done, however, not only here, but everywhere, if he
had wished, by setting an example. Had he been more to his men you may
be sure that the church would not have been as empty as it was today."
Perhaps that was true, but how it hurt Perrine to hear this from the
lips of her governess, of whom she was so fond. If anyone else had said
so she might not have felt it so deeply. Yes, undoubtedly it was too
true.
They had been walking as they talked, and had now reached the schools
where Mlle. Belhomme lived.
"Come in and we'll have luncheon together," she said. She was thinking
that her pupil would not be allowed to take her accustomed place at the
family table.
"Oh, thank you," said Perrine; "but M. Vulfran might need me."
"Well, in that case you had better go back," said Mlle. Belhomme.
When she reached the chateau she saw that M. Vulfran had no need of her,
that he was not even thinking of her. Bastien, whom she met on the
stairs, told her that when he came back from the church he had gone to
his own room and locked himself in, forbidding anyone to enter.
"He won't even sit down on a day like this with his family," said
Bastien, "and they are all going after luncheon. I don't think he even
wants to say goodbye to them. Lord help us! What will become of us? Oh,
poor master!"
"What can I do?" asked Perrine.
"You can do a great deal. The master believes in you, and he's mighty
fond of you."
"Mighty fond of me?" echoed Perrine.
"Yes, and it's I as says it," said the butler. "He likes you a whole
lot."
As Bastien had said, all the family left after luncheon. Perrine stayed
in her room, but M. Vulfran did not send for her. Just before she went
to bed, Bastien came to tell her that his master wished her to accompany
him the next morning at the usual hour.
"He wants to get back to work, but will he be able?" said the old
butler. "It will be better for him if he can. Work means life for him."
The next day at the usual hour Perrine was waiting for M. Vulfran. With
bent back he came forward, guided by Bastien. The butler made a sign to
her that his master had passed a bad night.
"Is Aurelie there?" asked the blind man in a changed voice, a voice low
and weak, like that of a sick child.
Perrine went forward quickly.
"I am here, M. Vulfran," she said.
"Let us get into the carriage, Aurelie," he said.
As soon as he had taken his place beside Perrine his head drooped on his
chest. He said not a word.
At the foot of the office steps Talouel was there ready to receive him
and help him to alight.
"I suppose you felt strong enough to come?" he said, in a sympathetic
voice which contrasted with the flash in his eyes.
"I did not feel at all strong, but I came because I thought that I ought
to come," said his employer.
"That is what I meant ... I...."
M. Vulfran stopped him and told Perrine to guide him to his office.
The mail, which had accumulated in two days, was read, but the blind man
made no comments on the correspondence. It was as though he were deaf or
asleep. The heads of the factory then came in to discuss an important
question that had to be settled that day. When the immediate business
was settled Perrine was left alone with the blind man. He was silent.
Time passed; he did not move. She had often seen him sit still, but on
such occasions, from the expression on his face, she had known that he
was following his work as though he were watching with his eyes. He
listened to the whistle of the engines, the rolling of the trucks; he
was attentive to every sound and seemed to know exactly what was going
on, but now he seemed as though he were turned into a statue. There was
no expression in his face and he was so silent. He did not seem to be
breathing. Perrine was overcome by a sort of terror. She moved uneasily
in her chair; she did not dare speak to him.
Suddenly he put his two hands over his face and, as though unaware that
anyone was present, he cried: "My God! my God! you have forsaken me! Oh,
Lord, what have I done that you should forsake me!"
Then the heavy silence fell again. Perrine trembled when she heard his
cry, although she could not grasp the depth of his despair.
Everything that this man had attempted had been a success; he had
triumphed over his rivals; but now, with one blow, that which he wanted
most had been snatched from him. He had been waiting for his son; their
meeting, after so many years of absence, he had pictured to himself, and
then....
Then what?
"My God," cried the blind man again, "why have you taken him from me?"