Avarice - Anger: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"M. Yvon has kept his word ever since, in spite of my entreaties, for it having been reported in England that the famous corsair, Captain l'Endurci, wore the Breton costume, it was at M. Yvon that every one aimed. But though your father exposed himself so much more than any of the rest of us, he was never wounded, and as there is a superstitious streak in the composition of every human being, M. Yvon finally began to think that there must be a protecting charm attached to our national costume. The sailors, too, imagined that this costume brought the ship good luck. At least, they would have felt much less confident of success if M. Yvon had commanded them in any other garb, so that is why M. Yvon, when he went aboard to go out and fight the schooner, put on the costume of his native province exactly as he would have put on a uniform, not supposing for an instant that there was any likelihood of his going to his own home.

"We had been sailing around about three-quarters of an hour, when all at once we saw a bright light stream up on the coast above the cliffs. A careful scrutiny convinced the captain that the house where we lived was on fire; and almost at the same moment, the first mate, with the aid of a night telescope, discovered the schooner riding at anchor, with all her boats at the foot of the cliff where the English had doubtless landed. The captain ordered the long-boat lowered, and sprang into it in company with me and twenty picked men. We reached the scene of action in a quarter of an hour. M. Yvon received his first wound while striking down the leader of the bandits, a Captain Russell, who figured so prominently in the abduction of M. Yvon a short time ago. Wounded by your father and left a prisoner at Dieppe, he had nevertheless managed to make his escape and concoct this new conspiracy. This, Mlle. Sabine, is the whole truth with regard to M. Yvon. He has suffered, oh, how he has suffered these three last days! and this is nothing to what he will suffer up to the time of your marriage; but after that, when he knows you are happy, I fear that he can endure it no longer. No human being could and — "

"My father, where is my father?" cried Sabine, trembling with grief, anxiety, and long repressed tenderness.

"Really, mademoiselle, I do not know that I ought — "

"My father, is he here?" repeated the girl breathlessly.

"He is not very far off, perhaps," replied Segoffin, nearly wild with joy; "but if he returns, it must be never to leave you again."

"Oh, can he ever forgive me for having doubted his love and his nobility of soul for one moment? If he will, all the rest of my life shall be devoted to him. My God! you are silent, you are all weeping — you are all looking toward that room as if my father were there. Thank Heaven! my father is there!" cried Sabine, her face radiant with inexpressible joy as she ran toward the door leading into the next room.

The door suddenly opened, and in another instant father and daughter were locked in each other's arms.

One month afterward, a double marriage united Suzanne and Segoffin, Sabine and Onésime.

The famous Doctor Gasterini, equally celebrated as a gourmand and as a physician, had restored Onésime's sight.

On returning from the church, Segoffin remarked to Suzanne with a triumphant air:

"Ah, well, my dear, was I not right in telling you that, 'what is to be, will be?' Haven't I always predicted that you would be Madame Segoffin some day? Are you, or are you not?"

"Oh, well, I suppose one must make the best of it," responded Madame Segoffin, with a pretended sigh, though she really felt as proud of her husband as if he had been one of the heroes of the Grande Armée she was so fond of raving about. "There's no help for it, I suppose, as 'that which is done cannot be undone.'"

THE END