The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

"I thought and still think that it is due to natural or rather physical causes. There are many instances of similar crises in youths on attaining the age of puberty. It is a time of life when the salient traits of character begin to manifest themselves, when the man succeeding the youth begins to show what he is going to be some day. This metamorphosis nearly always causes serious disturbance throughout the entire system, and it is quite probable that Frederick is now under the influence of this phenomenon."

"Doesn't this very plausible explanation reassure Madame Bastien?"

"One can never entirely reassure a mother, at least a mother like that. The reasons I gave her calmed her fears for awhile, but the trouble increased and she took fright again. In her interview with me just now she made no attempt to disguise her fears, and even accused herself of being to blame for the recent state of things. 'I am his mother and yet I cannot divine what is the matter with him, so I certainly must be lacking in penetration and in maternal instinct. I am his mother, and yet he will not tell me the cause of the trouble that is killing him. It is my fault. It must be. I cannot have been a good mother. A mother has always done something wrong if she cannot succeed in gaining her child's confidence.'"

"Poor woman!" exclaimed Henri. "She wrongs herself, though, in considering her maternal instinct in fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, doesn't her instinct warn her that you are wrong, plausible as your explanation of her son's condition is, for, in spite of her confidence in you, and in spite of the desire she feels to be reassured, your assurances have not calmed her fears."

Then, after sitting silent and thoughtful for a moment, Henri asked:

"Is that large building we see there in the distance the Château de Pont Brillant?"

"Yes. Its owner, the young marquis, was in the party that passed just now. But why do you ask?"

"Does Madame Bastien's son visit there?"

"Oh, no. The Pont Brillants are a very proud and aristocratic family, and associate only with the nobility."

"So Frederick does not even know the young marquis?"

"If he does, it is only by sight, for I repeat the young marquis is much too proud to have anything to do with a youth of Frederick's humble station."

"Is this family popular?" inquired Henri David, more and more thoughtfully.

"The Pont Brillants are immensely rich, nearly all the land for six or seven leagues around belongs to them. They own, too, most of the houses in this little town. The tradespeople, too, are of course largely dependent upon their patronage, so this powerful family command at least a strong show of respect and attachment. There is also a certain amount of money given to the poor every year by the family. The mayor and the curé distribute it, however. The young marquis has nothing more to do with that than his grandmother, whose skepticism and cynicism make Baron Holbach's atheism seem pale by comparison. But why do you ask all these questions in relation to the château and its occupants?"

"Because just now when I was alone with Frederick I thought I discovered that he hated this young marquis with a deadly hatred."

"Frederick?" exclaimed the doctor, with quite as much surprise as incredulity. "That is impossible. I am sure he never spoke to M. de Pont Brillant in his life. So how could he possibly feel any such animosity against the young marquis?"

"I do not know, but I am sure, from what I have seen, that he does."

"What you have seen?"

"The horse that brought Frederick and his mother here, not being hitched, evinced an intention of joining the brillant cortège as it passed. The young marquis struck it a heavy blow with his whip and drove it back, and if I had not restrained Frederick, he would have jumped out of the window and flown at M. de Pont Brillant."

"So it was in order not to frighten Madame Bastien you told us – "

"That Frederick had imprudently leaned too far out of the window. Yes, Pierre, I repeat it, I did not lose a gesture or the slightest change of expression in the poor boy's face. It is hatred, a deadly hatred, that he feels for the other youth."

"But I tell you that Madame Bastien's son has never even spoken to Raoul de Pont Brillant. They live in two entirely different worlds. They can never have come in the slightest contact with each other."

"True. Your reasoning seems perfectly just, and I suppose I ought to acquiesce," replied Henri David, thoughtfully. "Nevertheless, something tells me that I am right, and now I almost begin to regret having met this charming woman, for the very reason that she and her son have inspired me with such a deep interest."

"What do you mean?"

"Frankly, my friend, what can be more sad than to feel a commiseration as profound as it is futile? Who could be more worthy of sympathy and respect than this most unhappily married woman, who has lived even cheerfully for years in almost complete solitude, uncomplainingly, with a son as handsome, sensible, and intelligent as herself? And suddenly at one fell swoop this life is blighted; the mother watches with growing despair the progress of the mysterious malady the cause of which she has striven in vain to discover. Ah, I can understand only too well the agony of an experience like hers, for I too loved my poor Fernand almost to idolatry," continued Henri, scarcely able to restrain his tears, "and to me this utter powerlessness in the presence of an evil one deeply deplores has always been a source of torture, almost of remorse, to me."

"Yes, that is true," replied the doctor. "How often you said almost the very same thing in the letters you wrote me during your long and dangerous journeys, undertaken with such a noble object, but at the same time with the necessity of authenticating the most frightful facts, the most barbarous customs, the most atrocious laws, though realising all the while that this state of things must go on for years, and perhaps even for centuries, unhindered. Yes, yes, I can understand how it must try a soul like yours to see evils which it is impossible to assuage."

The clock in a neighbouring church struck three quarters past five.

"My dear friend, we have but a few minutes left," remarked Henri, holding out his hand to the doctor, who was unable to speak for awhile, so great was his emotion.

"Alas! my dear Henri," he said at last, "I ought to have accustomed myself to the idea of your departure, but you see my courage fails me after all."

"Nonsense, Pierre, I shall see you again in less than two years. This voyage will probably be the last I shall undertake, and then I am coming to take up my abode near you."

"Monsieur, monsieur, the Nantes diligence is coming in," cried the old servant, rushing into the room. "You haven't a minute to lose."

"Farewell, Pierre," said Henri, clasping his friend in a last embrace.

"Farewell. God grant we may meet again, my dear Henri."

A few minutes afterward, Henri David was on his way to Nantes, from which port he was to start on an expedition to Central Africa.

CHAPTER XI

ONE more drop makes the cup run over, says the proverb. In like manner, the scene that had occurred on the mall at Pont Brillant on St. Hubert's Day had caused the rancour that filled Frederick Bastien's heart to overflow.

In the chastisement which the young marquis had inflicted upon his horse, Frederick saw an insult, or rather a pretext, that would enable him to manifest his hatred toward Raoul de Pont Brillant.

After a night spent in gloomy reflections, Madame Bastien's son wrote the following note:

"If you are not a coward, you will come to Grand Sire's Rock to-morrow morning with your gun loaded. I shall have mine. Come alone, I shall be alone.

"I hate you. You shall know my name when I have told you to your face the reason of my hatred.

"Grand Sire's Rock stands in a lonely part of your forest. I shall be there all the morning, and all day if necessary, waiting for you: so you will have no excuse for failing to come."

This absurd effusion can be explained only by Frederick's youth and intense animosity, as well as his utter lack of experience and the isolation in which he had lived.

This effusion written and posted, the youth feigned unusual calmness all day, so no one would suspect his designs.

When night came, he told Madame Bastien that he felt very tired and intended to stay in bed all the next forenoon, and that he did not want any one to come to his room until after he got up; so the mother, hoping rest would prove beneficial to her son, promised his request should be complied with.

At daybreak Frederick cautiously made his escape through his bedroom window and hastened to the place of rendezvous. As he approached it his heart throbbed with ferocious ardour, feeling confident that Raoul de Pont Brillant would hasten to avenge the insult contained in this insulting note he had received.

"He shall kill me, or I will kill him," Frederick said to himself. "If he kills me, so much the better. What is the use of dragging out a life poisoned with envy? If I kill him – "

He shuddered at the thought, then, ashamed of his weakness, he continued:

"If I kill him, it will be better yet. He will cease to enjoy the pleasures and luxuries that arouse my envy. If I kill him," added the unfortunate youth, trying to justify this bloodthirsty resolve on his part, "his luxury will no longer flaunt itself before my poverty and the poverty of many others who are even more to be pitied than I am."

The name of Grand Sire's Rock had been bestowed centuries before on a pile of big granite boulders only a short distance from one of the least frequented paths in the forest, and, as a number of large chestnut and pine trees had sprung up between the moss-covered rocks, it was a wild and lonely spot, well suited for a hostile meeting.