As Madame Bastien returned the letter with a hand that trembled with
emotion, Doctor Dufour said:
"One word, please. I do not know what your decision may be, but before
you announce it I ought to give you some information about Henri David,
so you may know all about him before you either accept or refuse his
offer. Do you not think so?"
"No, my dear doctor, I do not," replied Madame Bastien, after a moment's
reflection.
"What?"
"I shall be obliged to do one of two things, that is to say, I shall
either have to accept or decline M. David's offer. If I accept it, a
desire to know anything further in relation to him would show a distrust
of him and of you. This letter is to my mind convincing proof of his
high sense of honour and his generosity of heart. If, on the contrary, I
cannot or should not accept M. David's offer, there would be a sort of
indelicate curiosity on my part in encouraging your revelations
concerning the past of a person who would remain a stranger to me,
though the nobility of his offer merits my eternal gratitude."
"I thank you both on David's behalf and my own for the confidence you
manifest in us, my dear Madame Bastien. Now reflect, and let me know
your decision as soon as your mind is fully made up. In compliance with
my friend's request, I lost no time in acquainting you with the contents
of his letter, and that is why I came at this late hour of the night,
even at the risk of disturbing you, instead of waiting until to-morrow,
and--"
The doctor did not finish the sentence, for a shrill, spasmodic laugh
resounded from Frederick's room, and made Madame Bastien spring from her
seat.
Pale and terrified, she seized the lamp and ran into her son's room,
followed by the doctor.
The unfortunate youth, with distorted features, livid complexion, and
lips contracted in a sardonic smile, had been seized with a fit of
delirium, due, doubtless, to a reaction after the events of the evening,
and his frenzied outburst of laughter was followed by incoherent
exclamations, in which the following recurred incessantly:
"I missed him, but patience, patience!"
These words, which were only too significant to Madame Bastien, showed
how persistently the idea of vengeance still clung to Frederick. Thanks
to Doctor Dufour's almost providential presence, the promptest and most
efficacious attentions were lavished upon Frederick, and the physician
spent the remainder of the night and the morning of the next day with
the sick youth. Toward evening there was a decided change for the better
in his condition. The delirium ceased, and it was with unusual
effusiveness that the poor boy thanked his mother for her devotion,
weeping freely the while.
Madame Bastien's relief was so great that she deluded herself with the
idea that the violence of this crisis had effected a salutary change in
the condition of her son's mind, and that he was saved, so about ten
o'clock in the evening she yielded to the doctor's persuasions, and
consented to lie down and rest while old Marguerite watched over her
son.
When she returned to her son's bedside she found him sleeping soundly,
so motioning Marguerite to follow her, she asked:
"Has he rested well?"
"Very well, madame. He woke only twice, and talked very sensibly, I
assure you."
"What did he say?"
"Oh, he talked about different things. Among others he asked me where
his gun was, and when I told him madame had made me put it away, he
said: 'That's all right, Marguerite, but don't tell my mother I've been
asking for my gun. It might worry her if she thought I had any idea of
hunting again, weak as I am.'"
So he had hardly recovered from this attack before Frederick's mind was
again engrossed with thoughts of vengeance. Marie had only just made
this deplorable discovery when a letter was handed to her. Madame
Bastien recognised her husband's handwriting, consequently this was the
reply to the letter in which she had announced her intention of
travelling with Frederick.
"BOURGES, November 5, 1846.
"I answer by return mail as you request, to ask, first, if you have gone
mad, and, secondly, if you really think me ass enough to accede to the
most absurd whim that ever visited a woman's brain.
"So, madame, on the plea that Frederick's health requires it, you are
planning a pleasure trip to the sunny south with your retinue like some
great lady! It strikes me that you have taken it into your head to play
the part of a woman rather late in the day!
"'We shall remain in Paris only twenty-four hours at the longest,' you
say, but I see through your little game.
"You are dying to see the capital, like all provincials, and your excuse
would be a pretty good one if I was such an egregious fool as you seem
to think. Once in Paris, you would write: My son is too much fatigued
with the journey to go on at once, or, we could secure no places in the
diligence, or, I am not feeling well myself, until a week or two weeks
or even a month had passed.
"If monsieur, my son, needs diversion on account of his health, send him
out fishing,--he has three ponds at his disposal,--or let him go
hunting. If he needs change, let him walk from Herbiers to the Grand Pre
mill half a dozen times a day, and I'll wager that in three months he'll
be strong enough to make the journey from Pont Brillant to Hyeres on
foot.
"You excite my pity, upon my word! To have such absurd ideas at your
age, think of it, and, above all, to suppose me capable of consenting to
anything so ridiculous!
"All this confirms me in the opinion that you are bringing up your son
to be a perfect nincompoop. I shall hear of his having the blues and
nervous attacks next, I suppose. He'll soon get over all this nonsense
when I take him in hand, I promise you. I consented to leave him with
you until he was seventeen, and even to let him have a tutor, as if he
were a young duke or a marquis. I shall keep my word, so you can have
your son and a tutor exactly five months longer, after which M.
Frederick will enter the office of my friend Bridou, the notary, where
he will stain his slender white fingers copying documents as his father
and grandfather did before him.
"I write to my banker in Blois by this same mail, telling him not to
advance you a centime. I shall also write to my friend Bossard, the
notary at Pont Brillant, who is as good as a town crier, to proclaim it
from the housetops that, in case you try to borrow any money, no one is
to loan you a sou, for any debts contracted by a wife without the
husband's consent, or rather when he has given due notice that he has no
intention of paying them, are null and void.
"Besides, I warn you that I shall instruct Bridou, in case you have the
audacity to undertake this journey on borrowed money, to set the police
on your track and bring you back to the conjugal domicile, as I have an
undoubted right to do, for no wife can leave her husband's roof without
the consent of her lord and master. You know me too well to fancy for
one moment that I shall hesitate to carry my threat into execution. You
have a will of your own, as you have proved. Very well, you will find
that I have one, too.
"Don't take the trouble to answer this letter. I leave Bourges this
evening for the Netherlands, where I shall probably remain until the
middle of January, returning to the farm in March, to give you and my
son the blowing up you so richly deserve.
"It is in this hope that I sign myself your deeply incensed husband,
"BASTIEN.
"P.S.--You wrote me in a previous letter that the tutor had taken his
departure. If you want another ass to take the place of the one that has
gone, you can employ one, provided you can get him for one hundred
francs a month, board and lodging--but no washing--included. Above all,
don't forget that I won't have him eating at the table with me. When I
am at home he will eat in his room, or in the kitchen if he wants
company.
"Ask Huebin to let me know how the brood sows are looking, for I want to
get the premium for my hogs this fall. It is a matter of pride with me."
A quarter of an hour after this coarse effusion from her lord and master
had been received, Madame Bastien wrote the following letters, which
were despatched to Pont Brillant at once.
"TO DOCTOR DUFOUR:--Dear doctor, will you have the goodness to
forward the enclosed letter to Nantes, after having first read and
sealed it. My son had a comfortable night.
"Try to give me a few minutes to-day or to-morrow, so I can tell
you what I have not time to write.
"Hoping to see you very soon, I remain,
"Your sincere friend,
"MARIE BASTIEN."
The letter enclosed read as follows:
"MONSIEUR:--I accept your generous offer with profound gratitude.
My son's age and mental condition, the anxiety I feel concerning
his future are my only claims upon your interest, yet I believe
that in your eyes these claims are sacred.
"Increase my obligations by hastening the date of your arrival here
as much as possible. Your predictions in relation to my unfortunate
child are more than verified.
"My only hope is in you, monsieur, and every hour and minute adds
to my anxiety. I am terrified at the thought of what may occur at
any moment in spite of my solicitude and untiring vigilance. It is
needless to say that I await your assistance with the utmost
impatience.
"May Heaven bless you, for the compassion you have shown to a
mother who lives only in her son.
"MARIE BASTIEN."