All men, however, are not endowed with tender sympathy; some have
hearts hardened like Pharaoh’s. This arises, no doubt, from that natural
depravity which has come upon men in consequence of the fall of Adam, or
because, at their baptism, the devil is not brought sufficiently under
subjection.
A remarkable example of this hardness of heart was given by one Colin,
the richest farmer and proprietor in Napoule, whose vineyards and olive
gardens, whose lemon and orange trees could hardly be counted in a day.
One thing particularly demonstrates the perverseness of his disposition;
he was twenty-seven years old, and had never yet asked for what purpose
girls had been created!
True, all the people, especially damsels of a certain age, willingly
forgave him this sin, and looked upon him as one of the best young men
under the sun. His fine figure, his fresh, unembarrassed manner, his
look, his laugh, enabled him to gain the favorable opinion of the
aforesaid people, who would have forgiven him, had there been occasion,
any one of the deadly sins. But the decision of such judges is not
always to be trusted. While both old and young at Napoule had become
reconciled to the innocent Marietta, and proffered their sympathies
to her, Colin was the only one who had no pity upon the poor child. If
Marietta was talked of he became as dumb as a fish. If he met her in the
street he would turn red and white with anger, and cast sidelong glances
at her of the most malicious kind.
If at evening the young people met upon the seashore near the old castle
ruins for sprightly pastimes, or rural dances, or to sing catches,
Colin was the merriest among them. But as soon as Marietta arrived the
rascally fellow was silent, and all the gold in the world couldn’t
make him sing.--What a pity, when he had such a fine voice! Everybody
listened to it so willingly, and its store of songs was endless.
All the maidens looked kindly upon Colin, and he was friendly with all
of them. He had, as we have said, a roguish glance, which the lasses
feared and loved; and it was so sweet they would like to have had it
painted. But, as might naturally be expected, the offended Marietta
did not look graciously upon him. And in that he was perfectly right.
Whether he smiled or not, it was all the same to her. As to his roguish
glance, why she would never hear it mentioned; and therein too she
was perfectly right. When he told a tale (and he knew thousands) and
everybody listened, she nudged her neighbor, or perhaps threw tufts of
grass at Peter or Paul, and laughed and chattered, and did not listen to
Colin at all. This behavior quite provoked the proud fellow, so that he
would break off in the middle of his story and stalk sullenly away.
Revenge is sweet. The daughter of Mother Manon well knew how to triumph.
Yet Marietta was a right good child and quite too tenderhearted. If
Colin was silent, it gave her pain. If he was downcast, she laughed no
more. If he went away, she did not stay long behind: but hurried to her
home, and wept tears of repentance, more beautiful than those of the
Magdalen, although she had not sinned like the Magdalen.