The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

"Ah, well, my child," whispered David to Frederick, "is it not the Marquis de Pont Brillant now who ought to envy you?"

Frederick pressed David's hand, but was possessed by the thought: "He whom I basely desired to murder is there, ignorant of my dastardly attempt, and he has come to thank me for saving his life."

Then the son of Madame Bastien, addressing the people of the valley, said to them, in an impassioned voice, as he mingled with them, and cordially pressed their hands:

"My friends, what I have done was done at the suggestion of my mother, and with the aid of my friend, M. David. It is, then, in their name, as well as my own, that I thank you from the bottom of my heart for these evidences of affection. As to this little boat," added the young man, turning toward the boat which had been deposited in the middle of the garden, and contemplating it with as much sadness as joy, "it shall be consecrated to the pleasure of my mother, and this touching inscription will remind us of the inhabitants of the valley, whom we love as much as they love us."

Then Frederick, addressing in turn all those who surrounded him, asked one if his fields were in a tillable condition, another if he hoped to preserve a great part of his vineyard, another still if the slime deposited on his land by the Loire had not somewhat compensated for the disaster from which he had suffered. To all Frederick said some word which proved that he had their interest and their misfortunes at heart.

Marie, on her part, speaking to the women and mothers and children, found a word of affection and solicitude for all, and proved that like her son she had a perfect acquaintance with the sorrows and needs of each one.

Frederick hoped to join the Marquis de Pont Brillant; he earnestly longed to press the hand of the man whom he had so long pursued with bitter hatred; it seemed to him that this frank expression ought to efface from his mind the last memory of the dreadful deed he had contemplated; but he could not find the marquis, whose carriage had also disappeared.

After the departure of the valley people, Frederick, entering the house with his mother and David, found Marguerite, who proudly handed him a letter.

"What is this letter, Marguerite?" asked the young man.

"Read, M. Frederick."

"You permit me, mother? and you also, my friend?"

Marie and David made a sign in the affirmative.

Frederick immediately cast his eyes upon the signature and said:

"It is from the Marquis de Pont Brillant."

"The very same, M. Frederick," interposed Marguerite. "Before departing in his carriage he came through the grove and asked to write you a word."

"Come in the library, my child," said Marie to her son.

David, Frederick, and his mother being alone, the young man said, innocently:

"I am going to read it aloud, mother."

"As you please, my child."

"Ah, but now I think it is doubtless a letter of thanks," said Frederick, smiling, "and should not be read aloud."

"You are right; you would suppress three-fourths of it," said Marie, smiling in her turn. "Give the letter to M. David, he will read it better than you."

"Come," answered Frederick, gaily, "my modesty serves me ill. If it is praise, it will still seem very sweet to me."

"That will be a punishment for your humility," said David, laughing, and he read what follows:

"'As I had the honour of telling you, monsieur, I left my house in the hope of expressing my gratitude to you. I met the valley people, who were on their way to make an ovation for you, – you, monsieur, whose name has rightfully become so popular in our country since the inundation. I thought I ought to join these people and wait the opportunity to thank you personally.

"'I should have accomplished this duty to-day, monsieur, without this interesting circumstance.

"'As I heard you thank the good people of the valley in a voice so full of emotion, it seemed to me I recognised the voice of a person whom I met at night in the depth of the forest of Pont Brillant about two months ago, for, if I remember correctly, this meeting took place in the first week of November.'"

"Frederick, what does that mean?" asked Madame Bastien, interrupting David.

"Presently, mother, I will tell you all. Please go on, my friend."

David continued:

"'It is possible, monsieur, and I earnestly hope it, that this passage in my letter relating to this meeting may appear incomprehensible to you; in that case please attach no importance to it, and attribute it to a mistake caused by a resemblance of voice and accent which is very unusual.

"'If, on the contrary, monsieur, you comprehend me; if you are, in a word, the person whom I met at night in a very dark spot where it was impossible to distinguish your features, you will condescend, no doubt, monsieur, to explain to me the contradiction (apparent, I hope) which exists between your conduct at the time of our meeting in the forest and at the time of the inundation.

"'I await, then, monsieur, with your permission, the elucidation of this mystery, that I may know with what sentiments I can henceforth have the honour of subscribing myself. Your very humble and obedient servant,

    "'R., MARQUIS DE PONT BRILLANT.'"

The reading of this letter, written with assurance and aggressive pride, was scarcely ended when the son of Madame Bastien ran to a table and wrote a few lines spontaneously, folded the paper, and returned to his mother.

"I am going, mother," said he, "to relate to you in a few words the adventure in the forest; afterward you and my friend will judge if my reply to the Marquis de Pont Brillant is proper."

And Frederick, without mentioning the conversation between the dowager and Zerbinette which he had surprised (for that would have outraged his mother), told the young woman and David all that happened on the fatal day to which the marquis alluded; how the marquis, having refused to fight in the darkness with an unknown person, and wishing to escape from the persistence of Frederick, had overthrown him with the breast of his horse; how Frederick, in a delirium of rage, had lain in ambuscade near a spot where the marquis would pass, in order to kill him.

This recital terminated, without justifying Frederick, but at least explaining to his mother and David by what sequence of sentiments and deeds he had been led to conceive the idea of a dastardly ambush unknown to the Marquis of Pont Brillant, Frederick said to his mother:

"Now, here is my answer to the letter of the Marquis de Pont Brillant."

Marie Bastien read the following:

"MONSIEUR: – I provoked you without cause; I am ashamed of it. I saved your life; I am glad of it. There is the whole mystery.

    "Your very humble servant,
    "FREDERICK BASTIEN."

"Well, my child," said David, earnestly, "you nobly confess a wicked intention that you have paid for at the peril of your life."

"When I think of this rehabilitation and of all that has just occurred," said Marie, with profound emotion, "when I realise that it is all your work, M. David, and that fifteen days ago my son was killing himself – his heart consumed with hatred – "

"And yet you do not know all, mother," interrupted Frederick, "no, you do not know all that I owe to this good genius who has come to change our grief to joy."

"What do you mean, my child?"

"Frederick!" added David, with a tone of reproach, suspecting the intention of Madame Bastien's son.

"My friend, to-day is the day of confessions, and, besides, I see my mother so happy that – "

Then, interrupting himself, he asked:

"You are happy, are you not, mother?"