TWO FRIENDS.
The chateau of Sainte-Gemme, which was some miles from the village of
Sens, had belonged to Monsieur Dalize for some years. It was in this old
chateau, which had often been restored, but which still preserved its
dignified appearance, that Monsieur Dalize and his family had come to
pass the summer.
Monsieur Dalize had become the owner of the property of Sainte-Gemme on
his retirement from business. He came out at the beginning of every
May, and did not return to Paris until November. During August and
September the family was complete, for then it included Albert Dalize,
who was on vacation from college. With his wife and his children, Albert
and Mariette, Monsieur Dalize was happy, but sometimes there was a cloud
upon this happiness. The absence of a friend with whom Monsieur Dalize
had been brought up, and the terrible sorrows which this friend had
experienced, cast an occasional gloom over the heart of the owner of
Sainte-Gemme. This friend was called Roger La Morliere. In the Dalize
family he was called simply Roger. He was a distinguished chemist. At
the beginning of his life he had been employed by a manufacturer of
chemicals in Saint-Denis, and the close neighborhood to Paris enabled
him frequently to see his friend Dalize, who had succeeded his father in
a banking-house. Later, some flattering offers had drawn him off to
Northern France, to the town of Lille. In this city Roger had found a
charming young girl, whom he loved and whose hand he asked in marriage.
Monsieur Dalize was one of the witnesses to this marriage, which seemed
to begin most happily, although neither party was wealthy. Monsieur
Dalize had already been married at this time, and husband and wife had
gone to Lille to be present at the union of their friend Roger. Then a
terrible catastrophe had occurred. Roger had left France and gone to
America. Ten years had now passed. The two friends wrote each other
frequently. Monsieur Dalize's letters were full of kindly counsels, of
encouragement, of consolation. Roger's, though they were affectionate,
showed that he was tired of life, that his heart was in despair.
Still, Monsieur Dalize, in receiving the telegram which announced the
return of this well-beloved friend, had only thought of the joy of
seeing him again. The idea that this friend, whom he had known once so
happy, would return to him broken by grief had not at first presented
itself to his mind. Now he began to reflect. An overwhelming sorrow had
fallen upon the man, and for ten years he had shrouded himself in the
remembrance of this sorrow. What great changes must he have gone
through! how different he would look from the Roger he had known!
Monsieur Dalize thought over these things, full of anxiety, his eyes
fixed upon the shaded alley in front of him.
Miette had softly slipped down from her father's knees, and, seating
herself by his side upon the bench, she remained silent, knowing that
she had better say nothing at such a time.
Light steps crunched the gravel, and Madame Dalize approached.
Miss Miette had seen her mother coming, but Monsieur Dalize had seen
nothing and heard nothing.
In great astonishment Madame Dalize asked, addressing herself rather to
her daughter than to her husband,--
"What is the matter?"
Miss Miette made a slight motion, as if to say that she had better not
answer; but this time Monsieur Dalize had heard.
He lifted sad eyes to his wife's face.
[Illustration]
"Now, where has all the joy of the morning fled, my friend?" asked
Madame Dalize. "And why this sudden sadness?"
"Because this child"--and Monsieur Dalize passed his hand through his
daughter's thick curls--"has reminded me of the sorrows of Roger."
"Miette?" demanded Madame Dalize. "What has she said to you?"
"She simply said, when I spoke to her of Roger, 'The poor gentleman.'
And she was right,--the poor gentleman, poor Roger."
"Undoubtedly," answered Madame Dalize; "but ten years have passed since
that terrible day, and time heals many wounds."
"That is true; but I know Roger, and I know that he has forgotten
nothing."
"Of course, forgetfulness would not be easy to him over there, in that
long, solitary exile; but once he has returned here to us, near his
family, his wounds will have a chance to heal; and, in any case," added
Madame Dalize, taking her husband's hand, "he will have at hand two
doctors who are profoundly devoted."
"Yes, my dear wife, you are right; and if he can be cured, we will know
how to cure him."
Madame Dalize took the telegram from her husband's hands, and read
this:
"=Monsieur Dalize=, Chateau de Sainte-Gemme, at Sens:
"=Friend=,--I am on my way home. Learn at Paris that you
are at Sainte-Gemme. May I come there at once?"
"=Roger.="
"And you answered him?"
"I answered, 'We are awaiting you with the utmost impatience. Take the
first train.'"
"Will that first train be the eleven-o'clock train?"
"No; I think that Roger will not be able to take the express. The man
with the telegram will not have reached Sens soon enough, even if he
hurried, as he promised he would. Then, the time taken to send the
despatch, to receive it in Paris, and to take it to Roger's address
would make it more than eleven. So our friend will have to take the next
train; and you cannot count upon his being here before five o'clock."
"Oh!" cried Miss Miette, in a disappointed tone.
"What is the matter, my child?" asked Monsieur Dalize.
"Why, I think----"
"What do you think?"
"Well, papa," Miss Miette at last said, "I think that the railroads and
the telegrams are far too slow."
Monsieur Dalize could not suppress a smile at hearing this exclamation.
He turned to his wife, and said,--
"See, how hurried is this younger generation. They think that steam and
electricity are too slow."
And, turning around to his daughter, he continued,--
"What would you like to have?"
"Why," answered the girl, "I would like to have Monsieur Roger here at
once."
Her wish was to be fulfilled sooner than she herself could foresee.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]