MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY.
The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the two
friends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. Monsieur
Roger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithful
hearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, in
a large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn,
opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation had
fallen into an embarrassing silence. Every one looked at Monsieur
Roger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount the
terrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to ask
him anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkled
sky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessed
the thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He passed
his hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and with
a resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,--
"I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me the
story of my sorrow."
Monsieur and Madame Dalize made a sight gesture of negation.
"Yes," continued Monsieur Roger, "I know very well that you do not wish
it through idle curiosity, that you fear to reawaken my griefs; but to
whom can I tell my story, if not to you? I owe it to you as a sacred
debt, and, if I held my tongue, it seems to me a dark spot would come
upon our friendship. You know what a lovely and charming wife I married.
Her only fault--a fault only in the eyes of the world--was that she was
poor. I had the same fault. When my son George came into the world I
suddenly was filled with new ambitions. I wished, both for his sake and
for his mother's, to amass wealth, and I worked feverishly and
continuously in my laboratory. I had a problem before me, and at last I
succeeded in solving it. I had discovered a new process for treating
silver ores. Fear nothing: I am not going to enter into technical
details; but it is necessary that I should explain to you the reason
which made me"--here Monsieur paused, and then continued, with profound
sadness--"which made _us_ go to America. Silver ores in most of the
mines of North America offer very complex combinations in the sulphur,
bromide, chloride of lime, and iodine, which I found mixed up with the
precious metal,--that is to say, with the silver. It is necessary to
free the silver from all these various substances. Now, the known
processes had not succeeded in freeing the silver in all its purity.
There was always a certain quantity of the silver which remained alloyed
with foreign matters, and that much silver was consequently lost. The
processes which I had discovered made it possible to obtain the entire
quantity of silver contained in the ore. Not a fraction of the precious
metal escaped. An English company owning some silver-mines in Texas
heard of my discovery, and made me an offer. I was to go to Texas for
ten years. The enterprise was to be at my own risk, but they would give
me ten per cent on all the ore that I saved. I felt certain to succeed.
My wife, full of faith in me, urged me to accept. What were we risking?
A modest situation in a chemical laboratory, which I should always be
able to obtain again. Over there on the other side of the Atlantic there
were millions in prospect; and if I did not succeed from the beginning,
my wife, who drew and painted better than an amateur,--as well as most
painters, indeed,--and who had excellent letters of recommendation,
would give drawing-lessons in New Orleans, where the company had its
head-quarters. We decided to go; but first we came to Paris. I wished
to say good-by to you and to show you my son, my poor little George, of
whom I was so proud, and whom you did not know. He was then two and
one-half years old. My decision had been taken so suddenly that I could
not announce it to you. When we arrived in Paris, we learned that you
were in Nice. I wrote to you,--don't you remember?" said Monsieur Roger,
turning to Monsieur Dalize.
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"Yes, my friend; I have carefully kept that letter of farewell, full of
hope and of enthusiasm."
"We were going to embark from Liverpool on the steamer which would go
directly to New Orleans. The steamer was called the Britannic."
Monsieur Roger stopped speaking, full of emotion at this recollection.
At the end of a long silence he again took up the thread of his story.
"The first days of the journey we had had bad weather. And I had passed
them almost entirely in our state-room with my poor wife and my little
boy, who were very sea-sick. On the tenth day (it was the 14th of
December) the weather cleared up, and, notwithstanding a brisk wind from
the north-east, we were on the deck after dinner. The night had come;
the stars were already out, though every now and then hidden under
clouds high up in the sky, which fled quickly out of sight. We were in
the archipelago of Bahama, not far from Florida.
"'One day more and we shall be in port,' I said to my wife and to
George, pointing in the direction of New Orleans.
"My wife, full of hope,--too full, alas! poor girl,--said to me, with a
smile, as she pointed to George,--
"'And this fortune that we have come so far to find, but which we shall
conquer without doubt, this fortune will all be for this little
gentleman.'
"George, whom I had just taken upon my knees, guessed that we were
speaking of him, and he threw his little arms around my neck and touched
my face with his lips."
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