MISS MIETTE'S FORTUNE.
"The rudder no longer guided us. What a night we passed! We made a
roll-call: how many were wanting? and the boats which contained our
wives, our children,--had those boats found a refuge? had they reached
land anywhere? The ocean was still rough, and, notwithstanding the
captain's words of hope, I was in despair,--anticipating the sorrow that
was to overwhelm me. Every one remained on deck. At daybreak a new
feeling of sadness seized us at the sight of our steamer, deformed and
blackened by the fire. The deck for more than forty yards was nothing
but a vast hole, at the bottom of which were lying, pell-mell,
half-consumed planks and beams, windlasses blackened by fire, bits of
wood, and formless masses of metal over which the tongues of flame had
passed. Notwithstanding all this the steamer was slowly put in motion.
We were able to reach Havana. There we hoped we might hear some news.
And we did hear news,--but what news! A sailing-vessel had found on the
morrow of the catastrophe a capsized boat on the coast of the island of
Andros, where the boat had evidently been directed. A sailor who had
tied himself to the boat, and whom they at first thought dead, was
recalled to life, and told his story of the fire. From Havana, where the
sailing-vessel had stopped, a rescuing-party was at once sent out. They
found and brought back with them the debris of boats broken against the
rocks and also many dead bodies. These were all laid out in a large
room, where the remaining passengers of the Britannic were invited. We
had to count the dead; we had to identify them. With what agony, with
what cruel heart-beats I entered the room. I closed my eyes. I tried to
persuade myself that I would not find there the beings that were so dear
to me. I wished to believe that they had been saved, my dear ones, while
my other companions in misfortune were all crying and sobbing. At last I
opened my eyes, and, the strength of my vision being suddenly increased
to a wonderful degree, I saw that in this long line of bodies there was
no child. That was my first thought. May my poor wife forgive me! She
also was not there; but it was not long before she came. That very
evening a rescuing-party brought back her corpse with the latest found."
Monsieur Roger ceased speaking. He looked at his friends, Monsieur and
Madame Dalize, who were silently weeping; then his eyes travelled to
Miette. She was not crying; her look, sad but astonished, interested,
questioned Monsieur Roger. He thought, "She cannot understand sorrow,
this little girl, who has not had any trials."
And the eyes of Miette seemed to answer, "But George? George? did they
not find him?"
At last Monsieur Roger understood this thought in the mind of Miette
without any necessity on her part to express it by her lips, and, as if
he were answering to a verbal question, he said, shaking his head,--
"No, they never found him."
Miette expected this answer; then she too began to weep.
Monsieur Dalize repeated the last words of Monsieur Roger.
"They did not find him! I do not dare to ask you, my dear friend, if you
preserve any hope."
"Yes, I hope. I forced myself to hope for a long time. But the ocean
kept my child in the same way that it buried in its depths many other
victims of this catastrophe, for it was that very hope that made me
remain in America. I might have returned to France and given up my
engagements; but there I was closer to news, if there were any; and,
besides, in work, in hard labor to which I intended to submit my body, I
expected to find, if not forgetfulness, at least that weariness which
dampens the spirit. I remained ten years in Texas, and I returned to-day
without ever having forgotten that terrible night."
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There was a silence. Then Monsieur Dalize, wishing to create a
diversion, asked,--
"How does it happen that you did not announce to me beforehand your
return. It was not until I received your telegram this morning that we
learned this news which made us so happy. I had no reason to expect
that your arrival would be so sudden. Did you not say that you were to
remain another six months, and perhaps a year, in Texas?"
"Yes; and I did then think that I should be forced to prolong my stay
for some months. My contract was ended, my work was done. I was free,
but the mining-company wished to retain me. They wanted me to sign a new
contract, and to this end they invented all sorts of pretexts to keep me
where I was. As I did not wish to go to law against the people through
whom I had made my fortune, I determined to wait, hoping that my
patience would tire them out; and that, in fact, is what happened. The
company bowed before my decision. This good news reached me on the eve
of the departure of a steamer. I did not hesitate for a moment; I at
once took ship. I might indeed have given you notice on the way, but I
wished to reserve to myself the happiness of surprising you. It was not
until I reached Paris that I decided to send you a despatch; and even
then I did not have the strength to await your reply."
"Dear Roger!" said Monsieur Dalize. "And then your process, your
discovery, succeeded entirely?"
"Yes, I have made a fortune,--a large fortune. I have told you that the
enterprise was at my risk, but that the company would give me ten per
cent. on all the ore that I would succeed in saving. Now, the mines of
Texas used to produce four million dollars' worth a year. Thanks to my
process, they produce nearly a million more. In ten years you can well
see what was my portion."
"Splendid!" said Monsieur Dalize; "it represents a sum of----"
Madame Dalize interrupted her husband.
"Miette," said she, "cannot you do that little sum for us, my child?"
Miette wiped her eyes and ceased crying. Her mother's desire had been
reached. The little girl took a pencil, and, after making her mother
repeat the question to her, put down some figures upon a sheet of paper.
After a moment she said, not without hesitation, for the sum appeared to
her enormous,--
"Why! it is a million dollars that Monsieur Roger has made!"
"Exactly," said Monsieur Roger; "and, my dear child, you have, without
knowing it, calculated pretty closely the fortune which you will receive
from me as your wedding portion."
Monsieur and Madame Dalize looked up with astonishment. Miette gazed at
Monsieur Roger without understanding.
"My dear friends," said Roger, turning to Monsieur and Madame Dalize,
"you will not refuse me the pleasure of giving my fortune to Miss
Miette. I have no one else in the world; and does not Mariette represent
both of you? Where would my money be better placed?"
And turning towards Miss Miette, he said to her,--
"Yes, my child, that million will be yours on your marriage."
Miette looked from her mother to her father, not knowing whether she
ought to accept, and seriously embarrassed. With a sweet smile, Monsieur
Roger added,--
"And so, you see, you will be able to choose a husband that you like."
Then, quietly and without hesitation, Miss Miette said,--
"It will be Paul Solange."
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