I EXCHANGE MY GUN FOR THE PLANE.
I will not exaggerate my grief; I will simply say that I loved my
uncle as a father, and my sorrow for his loss was full and sincere.
In my absence, the two keepers—the one named Flobert, and the other,
Lafeuille—had taken it in turns to minister to his little wants.
When he died, Flobert was in the house. I called, and he came to me.
The name of Drouet filled my heart, and rested on my lips.
At that moment a post-chaise passed, going in the direction of St.
Menehould. I ran after the postilion, my eyes filled with tears.
“Tell M. Jean Baptiste,” cried I to him, “that my uncle died at the
moment of my arrival.”
“Is it possible? Poor Descharmes! I spoke to him yesterday! He was
seated in his easy-chair, in the doorway, and he told me that he
expected you this evening.”
He then drove on.
“You will not forget to tell M. Drouet, will you?” I repeated.
“Certainly not. Do not be afraid, M. Réné; I shall not forget it.”
I had such confidence in M. Drouet, that I did not think it necessary
to ask him to come. I had only to tell him my sorrow, and I knew that
he would come.
As I expected, two hours after, I heard the gallop of a horse. I
rushed to the door, and M. Drouet was there.
He had met M. Fortin as he was coming in the same carriage which had
taken him to the Federation. He had pressed on his steed; he had seen
Marguerite in passing; and in all probability the good priest would
be there in an hour, with his housekeeper, to say the prayers for the
dead by the bedside of Father Descharmes.
M. Drouet wished to lead me away; but, smiling, in the midst of my
tears, “What would my poor uncle say of me on high,” I said, “if any
other hand than mine performed the last sad offices for the dead?”
“Do you feel yourself strong enough for it?” asked M. Drouet.
“Is it not my duty?”
“Without doubt. But one cannot always do one’s duty.”
“I hope that heaven will always give me strength enough to perform
mine.”
“Breathe that prayer night and morning, and it will be of more
benefit than all the prayers printed in the Church Service.”
The burial was to take place at four o’clock in the Cemetery of
Islettes. After it was over, he proposed that I should go with him to
St. Menehould, to pass the night, and in the following morning with a
notary, who would arrange the deceased man’s papers &c., &c.
In the afternoon, at four o’clock, my uncle’s corpse, accompanied by
the whole village of Islettes, followed by me, his sole relative,
and by Drouet, Billard, Guillaume, Mathieu, and Bertrand, his
friends, was placed in its last resting-place, accompanied by the
blessings of the Abbé Fortin, and all those who knew his upright and
irreproachable life.
The funeral over, M. Drouet put the key of the cottage in his own
pocket. Then we mounted into M. Drouet’s cabriolet, and drove off to
St. Menehould.
In the evening, M. Drouet went to seek the notary, who promised to
run over the following day, after breakfast, to open the will, and
make an inventory. On the morrow, at mid-day, in the presence of MM.
Fortin, Drouet, Bertrand, and Mathieu, the will was opened.
It appointed me his sole heir, and at the same time indicated a
cupboard in which would be found, in a bag, two hundred and sixty
louis d’or, which comprised his whole fortune.
It also charged me to give all the little things he had collected,
and which were of no use to me, to the poor of the village of
Islettes; also to give all the implements of the chase, with the
exception of those which pleased me, to his old friends, Flobert and
Lafeuille.
On no account was anything to be sold.
As I was under age, M. Drouet, by my uncle’s wish, became my guardian.
As a matter of course, I immediately handed over to him the two
hundred and sixty louis which my uncle had left me, telling him to
keep them till I came of age.
All being thus arranged, I placed on a wheelbarrow, which Bertrand
lent me, all my carpentry tools, my compasses, my plane, and so on.
Two hours after, I arrived at M. Gerbaut’s. On my entrance, I found
the whole family at supper.
“M. Gerbaut,” said I, “you offered me, if at any time I desired to
work under a master, an apprenticeship—are you inclined to stand by
your agreement?”
“Thanks, my boy, for having thought first of me. But sit down and
eat; it will be time enough to think of work to-morrow.”
“Sit down by my side, my friend,” said Sophie, with a sweet smile,
holding out her hand.
She drew her chair a little nearer to her father’s, and I accepted
the place thus offered.