The _House of Providence_ was built on the highest point of Chaillot,
in a healthful, beautiful spot, and was surrounded by a large, shady
garden which served as pleasure grounds to its inmates.
The night was calm and serene, and the atmosphere was impregnated with
the sweet fragrance of a profusion of spring blossoms, while numerous
gas-jets illuminated the wide avenue that led to the entrance of the
principal building.
The stranger, who still followed the throng, soon found himself in the
midst of a semi-circle silently grouped around a high porch, listening
to the following words from a voice that thrilled him with strange
emotion:
"My friends," Louis was saying, "five years ago to-night, I lost the
best of fathers in the frightful accident of the Versailles road.
Being possessed of considerable wealth, my father might have lived in
comfort and idleness; but he deprived himself of all luxury, working
for his daily bread, slowly accumulating riches by his parsimony and
augmenting them year by year by his abnegation. Then came his
premature death, and I mourned over the loss of the greatest friend of
humanity; for, according to his last wishes, I have consecrated his
wealth to the accomplishment of three great and noble duties:
"Toward children.
"Toward young girls.
"Toward women whom age and infirmities render incapable of work.
"To poor children, my father has provided elementary instructions; to
young girls, so often exposed to the seductions of vice, he has assured
the pure and sweet joys of family life, so often denied to children of
poverty; to aged or infirm women, he has given rest and comfort for the
remainder of their days.
"These last wishes I have faithfully carried out to the limits of the
means he has left me. The good thus done may be small in comparison to
the innumerable miseries of humanity; but the man who does what he can,
_shares his bread_ with his famished brother and does his duty. This
is a duty imposed on all alike, and all should strive to reach that
ideal. My father conceived that generous thought--I am but the agent,
the echo. The accomplishment of this glorious duty would fill my life
with boundless felicity, were it not that I must weep over the death of
a beloved and deeply regretted father."
As the speaker uttered the last words, a wild commotion spread through
the assemblage; overcome by his emotion, the old mulatto had fallen
unconscious in the arms of his neighbors. On hearing the cause of the
sudden agitation, Louis ordered that the stranger be carried to his own
apartments on the ground floor of the building, where he could receive
prompt and careful attention; insisting at the same time that the
wedding festivities should go on uninterrupted, and that Mariette and
Madame Lacombe should preside in his place at the supper table in the
garden.
In the meantime, the old man had been transported into Louis' study,
which was furnished with the few odd pieces of furniture carried away
from the old home so long shared in common between the father and son.
When the young man entered, the stranger was still unconscious, his
white hair falling in disorder over his brow and his unkempt beard
almost totally concealing his features.
Frightened at his immobility, Louis despatched the attendant for a
bottle of spirits; then bending over him he caught the emaciated hand
to feel the pulse. As he peered anxiously into the withered face, the
stranger turned slightly and uttered a few unintelligible words.
The sound of the voice struck him strangely. Bending lower he tried to
distinguish the features of the patient; but the semi-obscurity of the
room and the disordered hair and beard rendered his examination
fruitless.
Then the mulatto's eyes opened slowly; raising his head languidly, his
gaze wandered over the room and rested on the familiar objects.
"Where am I?" he murmured. "Is it a dream? My God! my God!"
This time the voice was more distinct and Louis trembled visibly; then
a bitter smile came to his lips and he shook his head sadly.
"Alas!" he said, in a low tone, "what illusions sorrow will cause."
Then turning to the patient, he added kindly: "Do you feel stronger
now?"
At these words, the stranger sat bolt upright, and catching Louis' hand
kissed it rapturously.
"There, don't agitate yourself," resumed the young man. "I have done
nothing to win your gratitude. Some day I may be able to do more. But
tell me how you feel. Was it fatigue or weakness that caused your
swoon?"
The old man still remained silent, his head bowed down and pressing
Louis' hand convulsively to his breast.
A singular emotion filled the young man's heart, and the tears came
into his eyes as he continued:
"Listen to me, father."
"Oh! again, again!" murmured the stranger, in a voice choked with
emotion.
"Well, father--"
"Louis!" cried the old man, unable to control himself longer.
This single word, uttered with all the strength of his soul, was a
revelation.
The young man started back as though a thunderbolt had fallen at his
feet, and stood for a moment pale and trembling, his gaze fixed on the
haggard features before him. The commotion was too violent, the moral
shock too deep, to allow him to realize the astounding truth at once.
It seemed like the sudden transition of deep night to the bright
sunshine, which dazzles and renders us momentarily blind.
Then the reality suddenly burst on his dazed senses; throwing himself
on his knees beside the couch, he brushed back the disheveled white
hair from the stranger's face, and scanned the featured of his father,
disguised under a fictitious color. There was no longer any doubt; he
threw his arms about the old man's neck, murmuring in a sort of filial
delirium: "You!--you, my father--Heaven be praised!"
* * * * * *
"We shall not attempt to describe this first explosion of joy and
delirious happiness. Who can paint those affectionate embraces, those
tender words that come from the heart and throw the soul into an
ecstacy of bliss? When the first emotion had finally subsided,
however, Louis eagerly questioned his father concerning those long
years of separation.
"My dear child," began the father, "I slept for five years and awakened
for the first time two days ago. I was in the wrecked car with Ramon
and his daughter; but through some inexplicable chance my life was
spared, though my leg was fractured and the fright drove me mad."
"You, my father?"
"Yes, I completely lost my reason."
"Heavens! how terrible!"
"A kind surgeon carried me to a place of safety and afterward conveyed
me to the Versailles asylum. I was perfectly harmless and spoke only
of my lost treasures. For four years I remained in the same condition;
then I gradually regained my reason, and two days since was pronounced
cured. I cannot express what I experienced as memory came back to me,
after these five years of slumber; but I blush to admit that my first
thought was that of the miser. What had become of my wealth? what use
had it been put to? The moment the doors of my prison opened before
me, I flew to my notary's office. You can imagine his stupefaction
when he recognized me. He then informed me that your first thought had
been to act as trustee only to my riches, and to use merely enough for
your existence until you reached the age of thirty-five. Then came
your severe illness six months later, and fearing you might die without
accomplishing your sacred task, you conceived other projects. 'What
were these projects?' I asked. 'Wait until midnight to-morrow,' the
notary replied, and go to the church at Chaillot. There you will learn
all, and thank heaven to have given you such a son.' I had the
patience to wait, my dear son, hoping to approach you without being
recognized. Oh! my noble, beloved son! if you knew what I have heard
and seen! Thanks to your grandeur of soul and the pious ruse of your
filial affection, I found my name blessed and venerated! If you knew
what sudden revolution took place in me! While blessings were showered
on my memory, it seemed to me that my soul had burst its terrestrial
chains and was hovering above the world, just as the souls of good men
must hover above us, while listening to the expressions of love and
gratitude from those whom they have benefitted. But, alas! this
illusion was of short duration---I was not deserving of these praises."
"You are mistaken, father," protested Louis. "Without your persevering
economy I could never have accomplished anything. You placed the lever
in my hand. My only merit has been to make good use of the immense
force you concentrated at the price of innumerable sacrifices and
privations. The horrible misery and the ignorance through which my
beloved wife had suffered, the dangers to which they had exposed her,
the cruel infirmity of her guardian, all these bitter things were a
lesson to me; Mariette, her godmother and myself have tried, as far as
it lay in our power, to spare others what we had suffered,--"
At this moment the door was burst suddenly open and Florestan de
Saint-Herem dashed, breathless into the room.
"Rejoice, oh! rejoice!" he cried, throwing himself into his friend's
arms. "Saint-Ramon has performed the most wonderful of miracles!"
"What do you mean?" gasped the astonished Louis.
"Two hours ago I was completely ruined, and now I am richer than I ever
was or ever will be. Only fancy, Louis, I am the possessor of gold
mines, silver mines, diamonds of untold value, of fabulous
riches--millions and millions, in fact! Oh! Saint-Ramon, how just I
was to sanctify your name, to canonize you, for you are not ungrateful!"
"In mercy, explain yourself, Florestan!"
"One hour ago, as the ball was drawing to a close, a servant informed
me that a lady had just arrived in a fiacre and requested to see me at
once. Hastening to my apartments, I was amazed to find the Countess
Zomaloff, a young and beautiful widow, quietly waiting for me. This
charming woman was to have married the Duke de Riancourt within a week
and had purchased my house during the evening. My surprise was so
great that for a moment I was unable to utter a word.
"'Monsieur de Saint-Herem,' she said, without a tremor of agitation in
her voice, 'you must forgive me for disturbing you, but I shall retain
you a few moments only--I am a widow and twenty-eight years of age; I
had promised to marry the duke, and would probably have been foolish
enough to keep my word it I had not met you. You have a generous heart
and a lofty soul; the fête you have given this evening proves it; I
admire your intellect and character, and your person pleases me. As
for me, the step I am taking now gives you the opportunity of judging
my worth--You may think my actions strange, improper, or eccentric--you
are at liberty to appreciate me as you wish. If your judgment is
favorable, however, I shall be proud and happy to become Madame de
Saint-Herem and inhabit the Saint-Ramon mansion with you. My wealth is
fabulous, and you may dispose of it as you wish, for I confide my
future blindly into your hands. I shall therefore await your decision
anxiously. Good-night, Monsieur de Saint-Herem.'
"With these words the fairy vanished, my dear Louis, leaving me in such
a state of dazzling happiness that I feared I would lose my reason."
"My dear Florestan," said his friend gravely, "the countess' frankness
and blind confidence in you impose a great duty on you."
"I understand, my friend," rejoined Saint-Herem seriously. "I had a
right to squander my own fortune; but to ruin a woman who trusts her
whole future into my hands would be a piece of unparalleled infamy!"
* * * * * *
One month later, Louis Richard, with his father and Mariette, assisted
at the nuptial benediction of Florestan de Saint-Herem and Madame
Zomaloff.
Notwithstanding his father's resurrection, Louis still continues to
dispense charity around him, greatly aided in the benevolent task by
old Richard himself, who now exhibits as much zeal in relieving poverty
and distress, as he formerly did in hoarding up his treasure and
ministering to his one great passion or besetting sin--avarice.
May the twelfth is now doubly celebrated. A magnificent fête is given
yearly by M. and Madame de Saint-Herem in honor of their first meeting,
for the marriage of _convenance_ has turned out to be one of love. But
at midnight, they invariably leave the brilliantly illuminated
Saint-Ramon mansion and accompany Louis and Mariette to their home,
where they share the wedding supper of the six happy couples united on
that day.