"I wish to speak to you in regard to the mental and physical change
which you have noticed in your son, and which is giving you such grave
uneasiness."
"Grave indeed, doctor."
"There is a possibility of curing him, I think."
"You really think you can, my dear doctor."
"I? No."
"What do you mean?"
"Have the goodness to read this, madame," said the doctor, drawing a
letter from his pocket and handing it to Madame Bastien, who, greatly
astonished, took it, and read as follows:
"'MY DEAR PIERRE:--The diligence stops here for an hour and I take
advantage of the opportunity thus afforded to write to you.
"'After leaving you last evening the subject of our last
conversation engrossed my thoughts to the exclusion of all other
subjects, for what I had seen and heard could not fail to make a
deep impression upon me.
"'Last night, and this morning as well, I have been unable to drive
that poor boy of Madame Bastien's out of my mind. You know, Pierre,
that I am rarely deceived in the deductions I draw from certain
physiognomies, and what I saw yesterday and what occurred during
the passing of the hunting party alike convince me that Madame
Bastien's son feels a deadly hatred for the young Marquis de Pont
Brillant.'"
Marie, astonished by the justice of this observation, and overcome by
her recollection of the terrors of the evening, buried her face in her
hands, and began to sob wildly.
"Great Heavens! what is the matter?" cried the doctor.
"Ah, that is only too true. It is hatred, an implacable hatred, that he
feels. But who wrote this letter?"
"My best friend, the most generous and noble-hearted man in the world.
You remember meeting a stranger at my house on St. Hubert's Day, do you
not?"
"The gentleman my son treated so rudely?"
"The same; but pray go on with the letter."
"'I have not endeavoured to discover the cause of this animosity,
but daily association with Frederick would undoubtedly enable a
patient and sagacious person to make a discovery which is
indispensable if he would effect a cure. Confident that an
implacable animosity has already taken deep root in Frederick's
heart, I ask myself by what strange anomaly he can be a prey to
such a deplorable weakness.'"
"But who is this man who seems to know my son better than I do
myself,--this man whose penetration frightens me; for it has proved more
correct, much more correct than you suppose."
"This man," replied the doctor, sadly, "is a man who has suffered much,
seen much, and observed much. That is the secret of his remarkable
penetration."
Madame Bastien resumed her reading of the letter.
"'You have told me, my friend, that Frederick has arrived at what
you call the transition period, an epoch of life which is often
extremely critical and accompanied with grave physical
disturbances.
"'Frederick may be strongly affected by these conditions and
consequently a prey to feelings which are the more powerful by
reason of their very novelty, on account of his mother's close
supervision and the salutary influence she has exerted over him up
to this time. And how could even Madame Bastien's affection and
prudence guard against a danger which neither she nor her son
apprehended? She must have been quite as unprepared as her son for
the violent passion which seems to have taken possession of him.
No, even this judicious and devoted mother has no more cause for
regret than if her child had been attacked with measles or some
other childish disease.'"
"Don't you entirely agree with my friend in this?" inquired the doctor,
"I mean in relation to not blaming yourself for the present state of
affairs."
"Yes," replied Madame Bastien, thoughtfully, "I shall show no mock
modesty with you, my dear doctor. I am conscious of having performed my
duties as a mother to the very best of my ability, and I recognise the
fact that it was not within the limits of human possibility for any one
to foresee or prevent the misfortune which has overtaken my son."
"One word more, my dear doctor," continued Marie, after a moment's
silence. "Your friend saw Frederick for only a few minutes, but long
enough, alas! to be treated with inexcusable rudeness. A generous-minded
person feels only indulgence and compassion for a poor sick child, I
know, but there is a wide difference between this compassion and the
profound interest which your friend manifests in Frederick. What has my
son done to deserve this interest?"
"The latter part of this letter will explain, I think, but I will say
this much by way of explanation. My friend had a brother very much
younger than himself, of whom he had entire charge after his father's
death. My friend idolised this brother, who was about Frederick's age.
Like him, he was extremely handsome; like him, he was passionately
loved, not by a mother, but by the tenderest of brothers."
"And what became of him?" inquired Marie, with interest.
"My friend lost this brother six years ago."
"Ah, now I understand," cried Marie, deeply moved. Then even more
thoughtfully she resumed the reading of the letter:
"'I am almost positive that Frederick has never evinced any lack of
confidence in his mother up to this time because he has had nothing
to hide from her, but the more reprehensible the secret he is
concealing from his mother is now at this present time, the more
impenetrable he is likely to be.
"'But now the malady is known to us, what are the best means or the
chances of a cure?
"'The first thing to be done is to discover the cause of
Frederick's animosity. How is this discovery to be effected?
Frederick loves his mother devotedly, nevertheless he has remained
deaf to her entreaties, so it is almost certain that he will never
tell her his unhappy secret now, partly from a fear of forfeiting
the respect of his friends, partly from a fear of imperilling his
prospect of vengeance, the inevitable consequence of hatred when it
is as energetic and intense as Frederick's seems to be.'"
Madame Bastien trembled violently as she read this prophecy which the
scene she had lately witnessed in the forest verified but too well, and
it was in a voice full of emotion she continued:
"'Consequently it seems almost certain that Madame Bastien must
renounce all hope of gaining her son's confidence. That being the
case, shall she resort to penetration, that compound of
watchfulness, dissimulation, and trickery? for to ferret out a
secret, at least a jealously guarded secret, one must employ all
sorts of cunning expedients.
"'Can a woman like Madame Bastien play such a difficult role even
if she desire to do so, a role which requires so much cool
calculation and dissimulation?
"'No, the poor mother would blush and pale by turn, and in spite of
her resolution she would hesitate at every step, even though she
felt such a course might effect her son's salvation.'"
Madame Bastien's head drooped, two big tears rolled slowly down her
cheeks, her hands fell inertly upon her knees, and she murmured, with a
deep sigh:
"What he says is only too true. I recognise my utter powerlessness."
"Don't despair, I beseech you," cried the doctor, earnestly. "Do you
suppose I would ever have brought you this letter, or that my friend
would ever have written it, if he had not felt sure he had found a means
of remedying this evil? Go on, I beg of you."
"'In my opinion,'" Marie continued, "'Frederick has reached an age
when the most devoted and intelligent maternal tenderness will no
longer suffice for his guidance.
"'Some knowledge of and experience in a man's life is needed to arm
him against the many temptations of which a woman is entirely
ignorant, and against which it is consequently well-nigh impossible
for her to protect her son.
"'An intelligent and devoted father might accomplish this difficult
task successfully, but as M. Bastien's business keeps him so much
from home, Frederick needs a man of feeling, honour, integrity, and
experience,--a man who understands the full importance of the task
of fashioning a youth into a man.
"'Such a person, aided by the information Madame Bastien could
give him, and, above all, by the influence she must still possess
over her son, such a person could, I feel sure, by patient study
and observation eventually discover Frederick's secret, and assist
his mother in combating and finally destroying this animosity in
the heart of this unfortunate youth, and then continue the
education which Madame Bastien has so admirably begun.'"
"This is only too true," commented Madame Bastien. "I have felt the
necessity of providing a tutor for my son for some time, as you know, my
dear doctor. The tutor I engaged did not fulfil all my requirements by
any means, but he was fairly competent, and endowed with an unusual
amount of patience and amiability. Unfortunately, my son's irascibility
of temper drove him away. Now, in the seclusion in which I live, and for
the very limited amount of money my husband has consented to expend for
this purpose, how can I hope to find such a tutor as your friend
describes? Besides, how can I induce Frederick to accept a tutor in his
present irritated state of mind? Besides, the more conscious a tutor is
of his value, his devotion, and his dignity, the less inclined he will
be to submit to my son's violence. Alas! you see I shall be obliged to
renounce this means, valuable as I know it to be."
The young mother resumed her reading.
"'If Madame Bastien for any special reason does not desire to
employ a tutor, there is another course which may not prove equally
beneficial, but which will at least serve to divert his mind from
the idea which seems to be dominating it,--that is for his mother
to start with him on a long journey.'"
"I had made up my mind to do that very thing," said Marie. "This very
evening I wrote to my husband informing him of my decision. I cannot be
wrong this time, as I agree with your friend on this point, so--"
"Yes, but in my friend's opinion, as you will see if you read on a
little further, this journey is only a palliative measure."
Madame Bastien read as follows:
"'I do not doubt the beneficial effects of such a journey on
Frederick's mind, but unhappily it will only divert his mind from
this unfortunate idea, not destroy it. A journey may, I repeat,
serve to ameliorate Frederick's mental condition and enable his
mother to gain time, a very important consideration, for I know
there will necessarily be considerable difficulty in immediately
finding a person capable of undertaking this mission. In fact, I am
so conscious of the many difficulties that, if I thought my offer
would be acceptable and above all seemly, I should be glad to offer
myself to Madame Bastien as Frederick's tutor.'"
Marie's astonishment was so intense that she paused suddenly, and
thinking she could not have read the letter aright, she read the line
over again aloud in order to satisfy herself that her eyes had not
played her false.
"'_I should be glad to offer myself to Madame Bastien as
Frederick's tutor._'"
"Yes," said the doctor, "and if he says it he means it."
"Pardon me, doctor," stammered the young mother, overwhelmed with
astonishment, "but the amazement this--this unexpected, incomprehensible
offer causes me--"
"Incomprehensible, no. When you know the person who makes this offer
better, you are the very person to understand and appreciate the feeling
that prompted it."
"But without knowing me, doctor--"
"In the first place he does know you, for I admitted, did I not? that I
had been very indiscreet; besides, would any other tutor that offered
himself be any better acquainted with you?"
"But--but your friend has never been a tutor?"
"No; yet from his letter can you not see that he is a just, generous,
and judicious person? As to his capabilities, I can vouch for them. But
read on, please."
"'This proposition will doubtless astonish you, my dear friend, as
I left you last evening for Nantes, from which place I was to
embark for a long voyage. Moreover, I have never been a tutor, the
modest fortune at my disposal preventing the necessity of following
any regular avocation; last but not least, Madame Bastien does not
know me, though I ask her to give me the greatest proof of
confidence that it is in her power to grant, that is, to allow me
to share the oversight of Frederick with her.
"'The first moment of surprise over, my friend, you will recollect
that, though I have endeavoured to impart a useful aim to my
travels, I adopted this roving life in the hope of finding
distraction from the intense grief the loss of my poor brother
caused me. Now after several hours of reflection, I am not only
willing but anxious to attempt Frederick's cure. A very
extraordinary desire this will doubtless appear to those who do not
know me, but perfectly natural to those who do know me intimately.
Since Fernand's death all boys of his age inspire me with a
profound interest; and since I have reflected long and carefully
upon the seriousness of Frederick's mental condition and his
mother's increasing anxiety, as well as the obstacles she must
overcome in order to ensure her son's recovery, I think I have
devised a way of effecting a cure. It seems to me, too, that I
should be paying the greatest possible tribute of affection and
respect to my poor Fernand's memory by doing for Frederick
precisely what I had hoped to do for my own brother, and that this
would not only be a wholesome distraction, but the only possible
consolation in my grief.
"'Now you have heard my reasons I feel sure my decision will no
longer astonish you; and if my offer is accepted I shall fulfil my
duties conscientiously.
"'From what I know of Madame Bastien, I feel sure that she will
understand my motives perfectly; so, on reflection, I think it
would be advisable for you to show her this letter, though it was
really written for your eye alone. You are in a position to answer
any inquiries Madame Bastien may desire to make concerning me. You
know me and my life; so say whatever you think you are justified in
saying to satisfy Madame Bastien that I am worthy of her
confidence.
"'Write me at Nantes. It is absolutely necessary that I should have
an answer this day week, as the _Endymion_, on which I have engaged
passage, sails on the fourteenth, wind permitting; so desiring to
give Madame Bastien the longest possible time for reflection, I
seize this opportunity to write so my letter may reach you
twenty-four hours earlier.
"'If my offer is refused I shall take my intended journey.
"'The diligence is about to start, so I must bid you a hasty
farewell, my dear Pierre. I have only time to address this letter
and assure you once more of my devoted affection.
"'HENRI DAVID.'"