The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

"Yes, M. David."

"Give it to me. Now, you, Frederick, return to the house with André; hasten the speed of the horse as much as possible, for the water rises every minute, and will swallow up the poor people below."

"But you, my friend?"

"I see here some young branches of oak; I am going to cut them so as to repair the tholes of the boat; they are old, the green wood is stronger and more pliant. Go, go, I will join you in haste."

The cart drove away; the old horse, vigorously belaboured with the whip, and smelling the house, as they say, began to trot. David chose the wood necessary for his work, soon joined the cart, which he followed on foot, as did Frederick, not willing to overburden the horse. As they walked, the preceptor gave the tholes a suitable shape; Frederick looked at him with surprise.

"You think of everything," said he.

"My dear child, when on my travels over the great lakes of America, I frequently saw terrible inundations. I have helped the Indians in several salvages and I learned then that a little precaution often spares one many perils. So I have prepared three sets of tholes, for it is probable we may break some, and as the sailor's proverb says: 'A broken thole, a dead oar.'"

"It is true that when an oar lacks a solid support, it becomes almost useless."

"And what would become of us in the middle of the gulf with one oar? We should be lost."

"That is true, my friend."

"Now we must prepare to row vigorously, for we shall encounter trees, and steep banks in roads and other obstructions which may give a violent jolt to our oars and perhaps break them. Have you no spare oars?"

"There is another one at the house."

"We will carry it with us, because, if we should lack an oar, the rescue of these poor people would become impossible and our loss certain. You row well, do you?"

"Yes, my friend, one of my greatest pleasures was to row mother across the pond."

"You will be at home with the oars then; I will sound the water and direct the boat by means of a boat-hook. I explain to you now my child, every essential point, as I shall not have time to address a word to you, when we are on the water. Do not let your oars drag. After each stroke of the oar, lift them horizontally; they might become entangled or break on some obstacle between wind and water, which renders navigation so dangerous on these submerged lands."

"I will forget nothing, my friend; make yourself easy," replied Frederick, to whom the coolness and experience of David gave unlimited courage.

When the cart reached the house, David and Frederick met a great number of peasants weeping bitterly, and driving before them all kinds of animals. Some were walking by the side of wagons laden with furniture piled pell-mell, kitchen utensils, mattresses, clothing, barrels, sacks of grain, all snatched in haste from the devouring waves of the overflow.

Some women carried nursing children, others had little boys and girls on their backs, while the men were trying to guide the frightened beasts.

"Does the water continue to rise, my poor people?" asked David, without stopping, and walking along by their side.

"Alas, monsieur, it is still rising; the bridge of Blémur has been carried off by the waves," said one.

"There was already four feet of water in the village when we left it," said another.

"The great floats of wood in the basin of St. Pierre have been swept into the current of the valley," said a third.

"They came down like a thunderbolt, struck two large boats manned with sailors coming to aid the people, and capsized them."

"All those brave men were drowned," said another, "for the Loire at its highest water is not half as rapid as the current of the overflow."

"And those unhappy people below!" said Frederick, impatiently. "Shall we arrive in time? My God! Oh, if the men from the castle get there before we do!"

The cart was at the farm; while they were putting provisions and coverings in the little boat, David asked André for a hedging knife, and went to select a long branch of the ash-tree, from which he cut about ten feet, light, supple, and easily handled. An iron hook, which had served as a pulley for a bucket, was solidly fastened to the end of this improvised instrument, which would answer to tow the boat from apparent obstacles, or to sustain it along the roof of the submerged house; the long well-rope was also laid in the little boat, as well as two or three light planks, solidly bound together, and capable of serving as a buoy of salvage in a desperate case.

David occupied himself with these details, with thoughtful activity, and a fruitfulness in expedients, which surprised Madame Bastien as much as it did her son. When all was ready, David looked attentively at each article, and said to André:

"Drive now as quick as possible to the shore; Frederick and I will join you, and will help you in unloading the boat and setting it afloat."

The cart, moving along the edge of the forest where stood David, Frederick, and his mother, took the direction of the submerged plain, which could be seen at a great distance. The slope being quite steep, the horse began to trot.

While the cart was on its way, David took the field-glass that he had left on one of the rustic benches in the grove, and looked for the farmhouse. The water was within two feet of the comb of the roof, where the farmer's family had taken refuge.

David laid his field-glass on the bench, and said in a firm voice to Frederick:

"My child, embrace your mother, and let us go; time presses."

Marie trembled in every limb, and turned deadly pale.

For a second there was in the soul of the young woman a terrible struggle between duty, which urged her to allow Frederick to accomplish a generous action at the risk of his life, and the voice of nature, which urged her to prevent her son's braving the danger of death. This struggle was so painful that Frederick, who had not taken his eyes from his mother, saw her grow weak, frightened at the thought of losing the son now so worthy of her love.

So Marie, holding Frederick in her arms to prevent his departure, cried, with a heartrending voice:

"No, no, I cannot let him go!"

"Mother," said Frederick to her, in a low voice, "I once wished to kill, and there are people there whom I can save from death."

Marie was heroic.

"Go, my child; we will go together," said she.

And she took a step which indicated her desire to go with the boat.

"Madame," cried David, divining her purpose, "this is impossible!"

"M. David, I will not abandon my son."

"Mother!"

"Where you go, Frederick, I will go."

"Madame," answered David, "the boat can only hold five persons. There is a man, a woman, and three children to save; to accompany us in the boat is to force us to leave to certain death the father, the mother, and the children."

At these words, Madame Bastien said to her son, "Go then alone, my child."

And the mother and son mingled their tears and their kisses in a last embrace.

Frederick, as he left his mother's arms, saw David, in spite of his firmness, weeping.

"Mother!" said Frederick, showing his friend to her. "Look at him."

"Save his body as you have saved his soul!" cried the young woman, pressing David convulsively against her palpitating bosom. "Bring him back to me or I shall die."