During the brief time which preceded Henri David's arrival the condition
of physical weakness which followed Frederick's attack of nervous fever
prevented him from leaving the house, especially as the weather was very
unpleasant, an unusually early snow having covered the ground, while a
heavy fog obscured the atmosphere.
Since the scene in the forest there had been no explanation between the
mother and son, nor even any allusion to the distressing incident.
Remembering the offensive manner in which her son had treated M. David
on Saint Hubert's Day, Madame Bastien felt no little anxiety with regard
to the future relations between her son and his new tutor, whose
intended coming was as yet a secret to Frederick.
At last came a note from Doctor Dufour, enclosing the following:
"I am travelling by post to make a few hours, my dear Pierre, so I
shall arrive very soon after you receive these few lines, and we
will go together to Madame Bastien's house."
M. David's arrival being only a matter of a few hours, Marie could defer
the revelation of her plans no longer, so she went to the study in
search of him. She found him seated at a table, apparently engaged in
translating a French exercise into English.
"Lay aside your books a moment, Frederick, and come and sit down by me.
There is something I wish to say to you."
Frederick took a seat beside his mother on a sofa near the fireplace,
and his mother, taking her son's hands in hers, said to him, with the
tenderest solicitude:
"How cold your hands are, my son. Your writing-table is too far from the
fire. You ought to move your table to this part of the room."
"I will, mother, if you wish it."
"I wish you would do so presently, but first we must have a little
talk."
"About what?"
"About a very important matter, my son."
"I am listening."
"The reasons that decided me to employ a tutor for you still exist,
though he has left us. There are branches in which you need instruction
which I am unfortunately not able to give."
"I seem to have lost all taste for study now, you know, mother."
"You must make some effort to overcome this languor. It worries me very
much."
"I will try, mother."
"But it seems to me that if you had some one to encourage you in your
good resolutions, and assist your studies, it would be much better for
you, don't you think so?"
"Your encouragement suffices for me."
"I may encourage you, but as I said before, I am unable to render you
any assistance, so I have thought it would be advisable to replace the
tutor who just left us."
"Replace him? It is not worth while to think of that, mother. I don't
want any tutor."
"But you need one, nevertheless, so I have engaged a new one for you."
"You must be joking, mother."
"You and I seem to have gotten sadly out of the habit of jesting, my
dear boy. The jolly times you and I used to have together seem almost
like a dream when I think of them now. But to return to the subject I
was speaking of. Your new tutor will probably arrive--"
"Arrive! When?"
"To-day."
Frederick's face turned scarlet, and, springing up abruptly, he stamped
angrily upon the floor, exclaiming:
"I will not have any tutor, mother; do you hear me?"
"But listen, my child, I beg of you."
"I will not have a tutor, I tell you. Send him away; it is useless to
take him. I will serve him exactly as I did the other."
Up to this time Madame Bastien's manner toward her son had always been
tender, almost entreating, but realising that she must show no weakness
now, she replied, in a firm though affectionate tone:
"I have decided that it will be for your interest to have a tutor, my
son, so I feel sure you will respect my wishes."
"You will see if I do."
"If you mean by that, that you hope to wear your new tutor out by your
obstinacy and ill-temper, you will make a great mistake; first, because
you will grieve me very much, and, secondly, because M. David, for that
is his name, is not a person who will be easily disheartened. This is
sufficiently proven by the fact that your anger and impertinence only
served to arouse his commiseration."
"What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"
"The gentleman you met at Doctor Dufour's house."
"What! that man--"
"Is the tutor I have selected for you."
"Is that so?" responded Frederick, with a bitter smile. "After all, what
difference does it make? I had just as soon contend with one as with the
other."
Though convinced that Henri David was fully prepared for all the
tribulations of the difficult task he wished to undertake, Marie was
naturally desirous of sparing the generous-hearted man an ungracious
reception, so she resolved to appeal to her son's affection, which had
never failed her heretofore.
"My dear son, I feel sure of being understood when I tell you that it is
in the name of my tenderness and devotion for you that I implore you to
treat M. David with the respectful deference due to his character and
merits. That is all I ask. Affection and confidence are sure to come
later. But if you do not treat him as you ought, I shall think, yes, I
shall think that you have ceased to love me, Frederick. You make no
reply. I understand why, my son. You think I am exaggerating, do you
not, when I say that I shall think you have ceased to love me if you
treat your new tutor rudely? But, my son, the coming of this new tutor
means your salvation and mine, for I truly believe it will prove the
beginning of a new era of hope and happiness for us both, and that being
the case, you would not grieve and disappoint me by receiving M. David
rudely, for no son who loved his mother would wish to make me miserable;
so you see I do not exaggerate, after all, my child. But, Frederick, you
turn away your head. You refuse to look at me. What I say about your
having ceased to love me is true, then! You do not say so much as a word
to reassure me, you who used to be so loving and affectionate. Why are
you angry with me? What have I done?"
"You feel better now, doubtless, since you have summoned a stranger to
your aid, mother."
"What else could I do? Be just, I beg of you. What am I to think when I
see you utterly unmoved by all I say to you? Is it true that in a few
brief months I have lost all influence over you, that my tears and
entreaties are alike powerless to move you? And when I see only too
plainly that this is the case, you are angry because I summon some one
to my aid. Is it possible that you are no longer able to distinguish
good from evil, that all that is good and generous and noble is dead
within you? In that case my last hope has indeed fled. I must bring
myself face to face with the hideous reality, and as you force me,
absolutely force me, to do it," added Marie, in a voice almost inaudible
from horror, "I must remind you of that horrible scene, the other night,
in the forest--in the forest--when you--when you tried--tried to
kill--in the most cowardly manner-- Oh, my God! my son, _my son_,
an _assassin_!"
The last word was accompanied with such an outburst of despairing sobs
that Frederick turned pale and trembled from head to foot.
On hearing the word "assassin" applied to him by his own mother,
Frederick realised for the first time the enormity of the crime he had
tried to commit, and noticing her son's gloomy silence, and the
expression of profound despair that had succeeded his strained and
sarcastic smile, Madame Bastien asked herself, with increasing anxiety,
whether the result of this cruel scene would be disastrous or salutary
for Frederick; but just then Marguerite entered hurriedly, and said to
her mistress:
"The doctor has just arrived with another gentleman, madame. They wish
to see you."
"Frederick," exclaimed the young mother, hastily wiping away her tears,
"my son, it is your new tutor, M. David. I implore you--"
But she could not finish the sentence, for Doctor Dufour entered,
accompanied by Henri David.
The latter bowed low to Madame Bastien, but as he raised his head he saw
traces of recent tears on the lady's face. He noticed, too, Frederick's
livid pallor and his gloomy and defiant air, so he would have had no
trouble in divining what had just taken place, even if an imploring look
from Madame Bastien had not still further enlightened him.
"Madame, I have the honour to present my friend, M. Henri David," began
the doctor.
Madame Bastien was so overwhelmed with emotion, that she could only rise
from her chair, into which she sank back again after bowing to David,
who said:
"I shall endeavour to be worthy of the confidence you have manifested in
me, madame."
"My son," said Marie Bastien, in a voice she tried hard to steady, "I
hope you will not disappoint the expectations of M. David, who has
kindly consented to assume the direction of your studies."
"Monsieur," said Frederick, looking his new tutor full in the face, "you
come here in spite of me. You will leave here on account of me."
"_Mon Dieu!_" murmured Madame Bastien, with a despairing sob, and,
overcome with shame and confusion, she dared not even lift her eyes to
Henri David's face.
"You will regret those words when you learn to know me better," said
Henri David, with a look of infinite compassion.
Frederick burst into a shrill, sardonic laugh, and rushed out of the
room.
"Don't leave him alone, doctor, I implore you," exclaimed the mother.
But this entreaty had not passed her lips before M. Dufour started after
Frederick.