The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

Marie remained silent a moment; then tears of gratitude filled her eyes and she said, with inexpressible emotion, as she turned toward David:

"How sweet happiness is!"

And her tearful eyes sought and met the eyes of David; for a long time they gazed at each other in silent, divine ecstasy. The door of the chamber opened and Marguerite said to the preceptor, with an air at the same time joyous and mysterious:

"M. David, will you come, if you please?"

"And my son," asked Marie, "where is he?"

"M. Frederick is busy, madame, very busy," replied Marguerite, exchanging a glance of intelligence with the preceptor, who was going out of the door.

"If madame will permit it," said Marguerite, "I will stay with her, in case she may need something."

"Ah, Marguerite, Marguerite," said the young wife, smiling and shaking her head, "they are plotting something here."

"Why do you think that, madame?"

"Oh, I am very discerning! Since this morning, such goings and comings I have heard in the corridor, Frederick is absent during his study hour, and an unusual noise in the library; so you see – "

"I can assure you, madame, that – "

"Good! good! you are taking advantage of my condition," said Marie, smiling. "They all know that I cannot walk about and see myself what is happening out there."

"Oh, madame, what do you think?"

"Well, Marguerite, I think it is a surprise."

"A surprise, madame?"

"Come, my good Marguerite, tell me all about it, I beg you; then I shall be happier sooner, and so I shall be happier a longer time."

"Madame," said Marguerite, heroically, "that would be treason."

At that moment old André opened the door half-way, put his head in, looking very radiant and mysterious, and said to the servant:

"Marguerite, they want to know where is the thing that – that – "

"Ah, my God! he is going to say some foolishness; he never does anything else!" cried Marguerite, running to the door, where she conversed some moments with André in a low tone, after which she came back to her mistress, who said to her, smiling:

"Come, Marguerite, since you are relentless, I am going to see for myself."

"Madame, you think so? You are not able yet to walk after such an illness."

"Do not scold me, I submit; I will not spoil the surprise, but how impatient I am to know!"

The door of the library opened again.

It was David, Frederick, and Doctor Dufour.

Marguerite went away, after having whispered to Frederick:

"M. Frederick, when you hear me cough behind the door, all will be ready."

And the old servant went out.

At the sight of the doctor, Madame Bastien said, cheerfully:

"Oh, now that you are here, my good doctor, I do not doubt any longer that there is a conspiracy."

"A conspiracy?" answered Doctor Dufour, affecting astonishment, while David and Frederick exchanged a smile.

"Yes, yes," replied Marie. "A surprise they are preparing for me. But I warn you that surprises are very dangerous to poor invalids like me, and you had a great deal better tell me beforehand."

"All that I can tell you, my dear impatient and beautiful invalid, is that we have agreed that to-day is the day when you must make an attempt to walk alone for the first time, and that it is my duty, yes, madame, my duty to assist this exertion of your powers."

Scarcely had the doctor uttered these words, when they heard Marguerite cough with great affectation behind the door.

"Come, mother," said Frederick to his mother, tenderly, "have courage now, we are going to take a long walk in the house."

"Oh, I feel so strong that you will be astonished," replied Marie, smiling and trying to rise from her sick-chair, and succeeding with great difficulty, for she was very weak.

It was a beautiful and pathetic picture.

Marie, having risen, advanced with an uncertain step, David at her right, the doctor at her left, ready to sustain her if she fainted, while Frederick, in front of her, was slowly walking backward, holding out his arms, as one does to a child that is attempting his first steps.

"You see how strong I am!" said the young woman, stepping slowly toward her son, who smiled upon her with tenderness. "Where are you going to take me?"

"You are going to see, mother."

Frederick had scarcely uttered these words, when a fearful, terrible shriek sounded from behind the door.

It was Marguerite. Then the door opened suddenly, and a bantering, ringing voice said at the same time:

"Make a note of it! The big old fellow is living yet!"

Marie, who was opposite the door, uttered a terror-stricken cry and fell backward.

She saw her husband Jacques Bastien.

CHAPTER XLII

IT will be remembered, perhaps, that at the moment of departure for Blémur, Bridou put on Jacques Bastien's greatcoat, made of goatskin. Bastien, half drunk, had, in spite of old André's advice to the contrary, persisted in fording a place inundated by the pond as well as by the waters of the Loire; the horse lost his footing, and the carriage was dragged down the current. Bridou succeeded in getting out of the carriage, but was swept by the torrent under the wheels of the mill and crushed to death. A part of the goatskin coat was caught in one of the wheels. In the pocket of the garment were found several letters addressed to M. Bastien. Hence the fatal error. It was supposed that M. Bastien had been crushed under the wheels, and that the body of the bailiff had disappeared under the water.

Jacques Bastien, incommoded by his great corpulence, had not, in spite of his efforts, succeeded in getting out of the carriage; this circumstance saved him. The horse, after having been dragged some distance with the drift, regained his footing, but soon, exhausted by fatigue, and attempting to ascend a very steep hill, he tumbled down. Jacques, thrown forward, received a deep wound in the head, and lay insensible for some time, when, at the break of day, some labourers going to the fields found him, picked him up and carried him to an isolated farm quite distant from the scene of the disaster.

Jacques remained a long time in this farmhouse, seriously ill from the results of his wound, and a dangerous attack produced by fright and prolonged immersion in the ice-cold water. When he was in a condition to write to his wife, he intentionally neglected to do so, promising himself – as no doubt rumours of his death were current – to make his resurrection a stupid and brutal joke, for he well understood with what sentiments his household would receive the news of his tragic end.

In his project, Jacques, as we have seen, did not fail.