A Cardinal Sin Part 19

"But, forty-nine francs is an enormous sum, Monsieur Louis; and I can't pay it."

"My G.o.d! what shall I do!" cried the young man, recalled to the material interests of life by this request. "I have no money!"

"Then why in the deuce do you hire cabs by the hour and in the night, too, besides promising twenty extra francs for speed? You must have taken leave of your senses!" cried the astounded man. "What will you do now? See if you can't find a little money in your father's chest."

These last words recalled what he had forgotten in his paroxysm of grief. His father was rich, and there must surely be some money about the place. Not wis.h.i.+ng to prosecute his search in the presence of a stranger, however, he said carelessly: "Tell the man to wait, as may need the cab again this morning. If I am not down in half an hour, come up and I shall give you the money."

"But this will increase the bill, and if you cannot pay--" the man began to remonstrate.

"I know what I am doing," interrupted Louis, coldly; "you may go."

Once alone, he shrank from the task imposed upon him; this investigation, at such a moment, seemed almost a sacrilege. But necessity forced him to resign himself to it, and he stifled his scruples as best he might.

The furniture of the room Was composed of a writing table, a dresser, and an old black-walnut chest divided into two compartments, such as we find in the houses of well-to-do peasants. After a fruitless search of the table and dresser, Louis turned to the old chest. A few pieces of worn clothes lay scattered about, but nothing else; and in the long drawer that separated the compartments, he found a bundle of unimportant papers only. Thinking this drawer might contain a secret hiding place, however, he drew it out completely, and was rewarded for his trouble by finding a small bra.s.s b.u.t.ton beneath it. As he pressed this b.u.t.ton, he was astonished to see the bottom of the first compartment drop slowly down, revealing a s.p.a.ce of about six inches in depth, with diverging shelves lined in garnet velvet. Symmetrically arranged between these shelves were innumerable piles of gold pieces, representing all countries and epochs. Each piece had evidently been frequently and vigorously rubbed and cleaned, for the whole glittered with almost dazzling brilliancy.

Notwithstanding his overwhelming grief, Louis was completely dazzled for a moment at sight of this treasure, the value of which he knew must be considerable; and it was not until the first impression had pa.s.sed over, that he remarked a piece of folded paper almost beneath his fingers. Recognizing his father's hand-writing, he picked it up eagerly and read these words:

"This collection of gold coins was begun September 7, 1803; its actual value is 287,634 francs. (See paragraph IV. in my last will and testament, confided to M. Marainville, notary, Rue Sainte-Anne, No. 28, who also has all papers, deeds and t.i.tles. See also sealed envelope, behind Spanish coin, fifth shelf.)"

Removing several piles of the large, heavy coins, Louis at last found an envelope, sealed in black and bearing these words in big letters:

"TO MY WELL-BELOVED SON."

Before he could open it, however, there was a knock on the door; and, remembering that he had told the _concierge_ to return in half an hour, he grasped one of the Spanish coins under his hand and quickly pressed the b.u.t.ton that closed the treasure box.

"What a fine gold piece!" exclaimed the amazed _concierge_, when the young man handed him the coin. "It looks like new, and I never saw one like it! How much is it worth?"

"More than the sum I owe," replied Louis, impatiently; "take it to a money broker and pay the coachman."

"Did your father leave you many of these pretty coins, Monsieur Louis?"

queried the man in a mysterious whisper. "Who would have believed that the poor old man--"

"Go!" cried Louis, irritated at the cynicism of this question. "Pay the coachman, and don't let me see you again."

The man withdrew without another word; and, having bolted the door to save himself from further intrusion, the miser's son returned to the chest. For a moment he stood contemplating the dazzling treasure before him, and though he reproached himself for thinking of his own happiness in that terrible hour, he could not help feeling a thrill of delight at the thought that one-fourth that sum would insure comfort and independence to his Mariette for a whole lifetime.

Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem employed by his father toward the poor girl, and even succeeded in convincing himself that he would have obtained his consent to their union; and that, though he might not have admitted his wealth, he would at least have amply provided for them.

The discovery of these riches did not inspire him with that covetous, revengeful joy usually experienced by the heirs of a miser, when they remember the cruel privations to which they were subjected through the avarice of the owner; it was, on the contrary, with a feeling of touching pious respect, and with a hand trembling with emotion, that he unfolded the sheet containing the last wishes of his beloved father.

CHAPTER XII.

The testament had been written two months previous and was in these terms:

"MY BELOVED SON:"

"When you read these lines I shall have ceased to live."

"You have always believed me poor; but I leave you an immense fortune acc.u.mulated by my _avarice_.

"I have been _miserly_, and do not attempt to excuse my fault; far from it, I am proud of it and glory in it.

"And this is why:

"Until the day of your birth, which robbed me of your mother, I was unmindful of augmenting my patrimony and the dowry brought me by my wife; the moment I had a son, however, that sentiment of foresight, which becomes a sacred duty to a father, took possession of me, developing slowly into a love of economy, then into parsimony, and finally into avarice.

"Moreover, you never suffered through the privations I imposed upon myself. Born sound and robust, the virile simplicity of your education has, I believe, aided the development of your excellent const.i.tution.

"When you reached the age of instruction, I sent you to a school opened to the children of poor parents; to begin with, it was a means of economy; and besides, this mode of education was calculated to form and develop habits of a modest, laborious life. The success of this plan surpa.s.sed my expectations. Raised among poor children, you never acquired those fact.i.tious, expensive tastes; never experienced those bitter envies or vain jealousies which often influence our fate fatally.

"I also spared you many griefs which, though childish, are none the less cruel.

"You have never had to compare your condition to others more elevated or more opulent than your own.

"You have never felt the pangs of that envious hatred inspired by comrades in speaking of the splendor of their homes, boasting of the antique n.o.bility of their race, or the wealth they would enjoy some day.

"It is generally believed that because children of dissimilar conditions wear the same uniform, eat at the same table, and follow the same course of study, a sentiment of equality exists between them.

"This is a deep error.

"Social inequality is as well understood among children as it is among their elders.

"The son of a rich bourgeois or of a n.o.bleman, almost invariably betrays at the age of ten the arrogance, or haughtiness he will display in fifteen years later.

"Whether children are _little men_, or men are _grown children_ matters little; all have the consciousness of their condition.

"As for you, surrounded as you were by children of the poor, you heard them continually speak of the hard labors of their parents; the indispensable necessity of work was therefore early impressed on your mind.

"Others of your companions dwelt on the privations and miseries endured by their families; you thus became accustomed to the idea of our poverty.

"Lastly, you saw the greater number of these children resigned and courageous--two of the greatest virtues in the world--and until now, my beloved son, courage and resignation have never failed you.

"At fifteen you competed for a scholars.h.i.+p in one of the high schools, where you finished your studies. Your first education had already borne excellent fruits; for, although many of your new companions belonged to the aristocratic world, their contact never altered your precious qualities, and you never knew the meaning of either jealousy or envy.

"Later, you entered as junior clerk in a notary's office, with a man who has long been my friend, and who alone holds the secret and administers my fortune. Until now, the discretion of this friend has equaled his devotion. Near him, you have acquired a perfect knowledge of business; and, thanks to my foresight, you shall be in a position to skilfully and advantageously administer the considerable wealth I have ama.s.sed.

"My conscience does not reproach me; and yet, I admit that I sometimes fear you will address this reproach to my memory:

"_While you acc.u.mulated these riches, my father, you condemned me without mercy to the most cruel privations_.

"Reflection drives this fear from my heart, however; I remember how frequently you have a.s.sured me that you were satisfied with your condition, and that if you desired luxuries it was only for my sake.

"In fact, your inexhaustible humor and gentleness, your natural gaiety of spirits and tender affection for me sufficiently prove that you are contented. Moreover, do I not share your privations? Your own economies, added to my earnings as a public scribe, have permitted us to live without touching my revenues. The capital has thus been growing for twenty years in the hands of my prudent administrator.

"On the day on which I pen these lines, my fortune amounts to about two millions and a half.