Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"I am certain of that, commander, and this knowledge made me doubly anxious to confide my projects to you."

"That is very natural," replied Olivier, "for you know so well that whatever interests you interests us."

"The real state of the case is this," said Gerald, replying to his friend's words by a friendly gesture. "Yesterday, my mother, dazzled by Mlle. de Beaumesnil's wealth, proposed to me that I should marry that young lady. My mother considered my success certain, if I would consent to follow her counsels. But remembering the pleasures of my bachelor life and of independence, I at first refused."

"But if you have no liking for married life, the millions upon millions should not induce you to change this determination," remarked the old naval officer, kindly.

"But wait, commander," said Gerald, with some little embarrassment. "My refusal irritated my mother. She told me I was blind, and that I had no sense; but finally her anger gave place to such profound chagrin that, seeing her inconsolable at my refusal, I – "

"You consented to the marriage?" asked Olivier.

"Yes," replied Gerald.

Then noticing a slight movement of astonishment on the part of the old sailor, Gerald added:

"Commander, my decision seems to surprise you."

"Yes, M. Gerald."

"But why? Tell me frankly."

"Well, M. Gerald, if you consent to marry contrary to your inclination, and that merely to please your mother, I fear you are making a great mistake," answered the veteran, in firm, but affectionate tones, "for sooner or later your wife will suffer for the compulsion you exert upon yourself to-day, and one ought not to marry to make a woman unhappy. Don't you agree with me, Olivier?"

"Perfectly."

"But how could I bear to see my mother weep, my mother who seems to have set her heart upon this marriage?"

"But think of seeing your wife weep, M. Gerald. Your mother has your affection to console her, while your wife, poor orphan that she is, who will console her? No one, or perhaps she will do as so many other women do, – console herself with lovers who are inferior to you in every way. They will torment her, they will disgrace her, perhaps, – another chance of misery for the poor creature!"

The young duke's head drooped, and he answered not a word.

"You asked us to be frank with you, M. Gerald," continued the commander, "and we are, because we love you sincerely."

"I did not doubt that you would be perfectly frank with me, so I ought to be equally so, and say in my defence that in consenting to this marriage I was influenced by another and not altogether ungenerous sentiment. You remember that I spoke of Macreuse, the other day, Olivier?"

"That miserable wretch who put little birds' eyes out with pins!" cried the veteran, upon whom this incident had evidently made a deep impression, "that hypocrite who is now a hanger-on of the clergy?"

"The same, commander. Well, he is one of the aspirants for Mlle. de Beaumesnil's hand."

"Macreuse!" exclaimed Olivier. "Poor girl, but he has no chance of success, has he?"

"My mother says not, but I fear that he has; for the Church supports Macreuse's claims, and the Church is very powerful."

"Such a scoundrel as that succeed!" cried the old officer. "It would be shameful!"

"And it was because I was so indignant at the idea that, already touched by my mother's disappointment, I consented to the marriage partly in order to circumvent that wretch, Macreuse."

"But afterwards, M. Gerald, you reflected, did you not, that an honourable man like yourself does not marry merely to please his mother and circumvent a rival, even if that rival is a Macreuse?"

"What, commander!" exclaimed Gerald, evidently much surprised. "Do you think it would be better to allow this wretch to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, when he wants her only for her money?"

"Nothing of the kind," answered the veteran, warmly. "One should always prevent a crime when one can, and if I were in your place, M. Gerald – "

"What would you do, commander?"

"I would go first to M. Macreuse, and say to him: 'You are a scoundrel, and as scoundrels should not be allowed to marry women to make them miserable all their lives, I forbid you to marry Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and I will prevent you from marrying her; I do not know her, I have no intention of marrying her myself, but I take an interest in her because she is in some danger of becoming your wife. As that, in my opinion, would be infinitely worse for her than if she were going to be bitten by a mad dog, I intend to warn her that you are worse than a mad dog.'"

"That would be doing exactly right, uncle, exactly!" cried Olivier.

But Gerald motioned him not to interrupt the veteran, who continued:

"I should then go straight to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and say to her: 'My dear young lady, there is a certain M. Macreuse who wants to marry you for your money. He is a vile cur, and I will prove it to his face whenever and wherever you like. Take my advice; it is entirely disinterested, for I haven't the slightest idea of marrying you myself, but honest men should always put unsuspecting persons on their guard against scoundrels.' I tell you, M. Gerald, my way may be unconventional, but there might be very much worse ones."

"The course my uncle suggests, though rather rough, certainly has the merit of being eminently straightforward, you must admit, my dear Gerald," said Olivier, smilingly; "but you, who are so much better versed in the ways of the world than either of us are, probably know whether you could not achieve the same result by less violent means."

But Gerald, more and more impressed by the veteran's frankness and good sense, had listened to him very respectfully.

"Thanks, commander," he exclaimed, offering him his hand, "you and Olivier have prevented me from doing a dishonourable deed, for the danger was all the greater from the fact that I was investing it with a semblance of virtue. To make my mother the happiest of women, and prevent Mlle. de Beaumesnil from becoming the victim of a man like Macreuse, seemed a very fine thing to me at first. I was deceiving myself most abominably, for I not only gave no thought whatever to the future of this young girl whom I would probably make miserable for life, but I was yielding, though unconsciously, to the fascination of her colossal wealth."

"You are wrong about that, Gerald, I am sure."

"I am not, upon my word, Olivier. So, to save myself from further temptation, I shall return to my first resolution, viz., not to marry at all. I regret only one thing in this change of plans," added Gerald, with much feeling, "and that is the deep disappointment I shall cause my mother, though she is sure to approve my course eventually."

"But listen, Gerald," interrupted Olivier; "you should not do wrong merely to please your mother, as uncle says. Yet a mother is so kind, and it grieves one so much to see her unhappy, why should you not try to satisfy her without the sacrifice of your convictions as an honest and honourable man?"

"Good, my boy!" exclaimed the veteran. "But how is that to be done?"

"Explain, Olivier."

"You have no wish to marry, you say?"

"Not the slightest."

"And you have never seen Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"

"Never."

"Then you cannot love her, of course, that is evident. But who knows but you might fall in love with her if you did see her? A bachelor life is your idea of perfect happiness now, I admit. But is it not quite possible that Mlle. de Beaumesnil might inspire you with a taste for married life instead?"

"You are right, Olivier," exclaimed the veteran. "You ought to see the young lady before you refuse, M. Gerald, and perhaps, as Olivier says, the desire to marry may seize you."

"Impossible, commander!" cried Gerald, gaily. "One is born a husband as one is born a poet or a cripple, and then there is another objection, – the most important of all, – that occurs to me now. It is that the young lady in question is the richest heiress in France."

"And what of that?" urged Olivier. "What difference does that make?"

"It makes a great deal of difference," replied Gerald, "for even if I was obliged to admit that Mlle. de Beaumesnil pleased me infinitely, – that I was dead in love with her, in fact, and that she shared my love, – the fact remains that she is the possessor of a princely fortune, while I have nothing; for my paltry twelve thousand a year would be but a drop in the ocean of Mlle. de Beaumesnil's millions. It would be too humiliating to a man's pride, would it not, commander, to marry a woman to whom you can give nothing, but who gives you everything? Besides, however sincere your love may be, don't you have the appearance of marrying for mercenary motives? Don't you know that everybody would say: 'Mlle. de Beaumesnil wanted to be a duchess. Gerald de Senneterre hadn't a penny, so he sold her his name and title, and threw himself in.'"

On hearing these words, the uncle glanced at his nephew with a decidedly embarrassed air.