A Cardinal Sin Part 29

"If you are interested in the ceremony, you may follow the cortege to the _House of Providence_, my good man," returned his first informant, as he moved toward the entrance of the church.

The old man stood motionless for a few moments, then slowly followed the throng into the sacred edifice. Throughout the whole solemn ceremony, he seemed plunged into a sort of ecstasy, as if a sudden revelation had opened an immense, dazzling horizon, hitherto veiled to his eyes. Burying his face in his hands, he sank into a deep meditation from which he was aroused by the grave sonorous voice of the officiating priest addressing the newly-married couples.

"And now that your union is consecrated by G.o.d," he was saying, "continue the honest, laborious life which has been repaid by the happiness you now enjoy; never forget that you owe this just remuneration of your courage in adversity to a man gifted with the most tender and generous affection for his brothers; for, faithful to his duties as a Christian, he does not look upon himself as the master, but as the dispenser of his riches. In giving M. Richard a son so worthy of him, the Lord has recompensed that great man, and his memory shall live amongst men. Your grat.i.tude will create his immortality; his name shall be blessed by you, by your children and your children's children; the venerated name of M. Richard shall be engraved on your hearts as a souvenir of rare virtue!"

A murmur of approbation greeted these words, drowning the stifled sobs of the old mulatto whose face was still buried in his hands.

The ceremony was now over, and the noise and bustle of the dispersing throng recalled him to himself. Rising from his knees, he hurried to the door, where he stood, trembling in every limb, waiting for the pa.s.sage of the leading group in the procession.

As Louis Richard crossed the threshold, the old man's hand came in contact with his own, causing him to turn in that direction. Seeing the bowed head and shabby clothes of the stranger, the young man slipped a gold coin between his fingers, saying kindly: "Take it, and pray for Pere Richard."

The old man eagerly grasped the coin, and raising it to his lips, burst into tears. Then leaning once more on his cane, he slowly followed the gay party.

CHAPTER XXI.

The _House of Providence_ was built on the highest point of Chaillot, in a healthful, beautiful spot, and was surrounded by a large, shady garden which served as pleasure grounds to its inmates.

The night was calm and serene, and the atmosphere was impregnated with the sweet fragrance of a profusion of spring blossoms, while numerous gas-jets illuminated the wide avenue that led to the entrance of the princ.i.p.al building.

The stranger, who still followed the throng, soon found himself in the midst of a semi-circle silently grouped around a high porch, listening to the following words from a voice that thrilled him with strange emotion:

"My friends," Louis was saying, "five years ago to-night, I lost the best of fathers in the frightful accident of the Versailles road.

Being possessed of considerable wealth, my father might have lived in comfort and idleness; but he deprived himself of all luxury, working for his daily bread, slowly acc.u.mulating riches by his parsimony and augmenting them year by year by his abnegation. Then came his premature death, and I mourned over the loss of the greatest friend of humanity; for, according to his last wishes, I have consecrated his wealth to the accomplishment of three great and n.o.ble duties:

"Toward children.

"Toward young girls.

"Toward women whom age and infirmities render incapable of work.

"To poor children, my father has provided elementary instructions; to young girls, so often exposed to the seductions of vice, he has a.s.sured the pure and sweet joys of family life, so often denied to children of poverty; to aged or infirm women, he has given rest and comfort for the remainder of their days.

"These last wishes I have faithfully carried out to the limits of the means he has left me. The good thus done may be small in comparison to the innumerable miseries of humanity; but the man who does what he can, _shares his bread_ with his famished brother and does his duty. This is a duty imposed on all alike, and all should strive to reach that ideal. My father conceived that generous thought--I am but the agent, the echo. The accomplishment of this glorious duty would fill my life with boundless felicity, were it not that I must weep over the death of a beloved and deeply regretted father."

As the speaker uttered the last words, a wild commotion spread through the a.s.semblage; overcome by his emotion, the old mulatto had fallen unconscious in the arms of his neighbors. On hearing the cause of the sudden agitation, Louis ordered that the stranger be carried to his own apartments on the ground floor of the building, where he could receive prompt and careful attention; insisting at the same time that the wedding festivities should go on uninterrupted, and that Mariette and Madame Lacombe should preside in his place at the supper table in the garden.

In the meantime, the old man had been transported into Louis' study, which was furnished with the few odd pieces of furniture carried away from the old home so long shared in common between the father and son.

When the young man entered, the stranger was still unconscious, his white hair falling in disorder over his brow and his unkempt beard almost totally concealing his features.

Frightened at his immobility, Louis despatched the attendant for a bottle of spirits; then bending over him he caught the emaciated hand to feel the pulse. As he peered anxiously into the withered face, the stranger turned slightly and uttered a few unintelligible words.

The sound of the voice struck him strangely. Bending lower he tried to distinguish the features of the patient; but the semi-obscurity of the room and the disordered hair and beard rendered his examination fruitless.

Then the mulatto's eyes opened slowly; raising his head languidly, his gaze wandered over the room and rested on the familiar objects.

"Where am I?" he murmured. "Is it a dream? My G.o.d! my G.o.d!"

This time the voice was more distinct and Louis trembled visibly; then a bitter smile came to his lips and he shook his head sadly.

"Alas!" he said, in a low tone, "what illusions sorrow will cause."

Then turning to the patient, he added kindly: "Do you feel stronger now?"

At these words, the stranger sat bolt upright, and catching Louis' hand kissed it rapturously.

"There, don't agitate yourself," resumed the young man. "I have done nothing to win your grat.i.tude. Some day I may be able to do more. But tell me how you feel. Was it fatigue or weakness that caused your swoon?"

The old man still remained silent, his head bowed down and pressing Louis' hand convulsively to his breast.

A singular emotion filled the young man's heart, and the tears came into his eyes as he continued:

"Listen to me, father."

"Oh! again, again!" murmured the stranger, in a voice choked with emotion.

"Well, father--"

"Louis!" cried the old man, unable to control himself longer.

This single word, uttered with all the strength of his soul, was a revelation.

The young man started back as though a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, and stood for a moment pale and trembling, his gaze fixed on the haggard features before him. The commotion was too violent, the moral shock too deep, to allow him to realize the astounding truth at once.

It seemed like the sudden transition of deep night to the bright suns.h.i.+ne, which dazzles and renders us momentarily blind.

Then the reality suddenly burst on his dazed senses; throwing himself on his knees beside the couch, he brushed back the disheveled white hair from the stranger's face, and scanned the featured of his father, disguised under a fict.i.tious color. There was no longer any doubt; he threw his arms about the old man's neck, murmuring in a sort of filial delirium: "You!--you, my father--Heaven be praised!"

"We shall not attempt to describe this first explosion of joy and delirious happiness. Who can paint those affectionate embraces, those tender words that come from the heart and throw the soul into an ecstacy of bliss? When the first emotion had finally subsided, however, Louis eagerly questioned his father concerning those long years of separation.

"My dear child," began the father, "I slept for five years and awakened for the first time two days ago. I was in the wrecked car with Ramon and his daughter; but through some inexplicable chance my life was spared, though my leg was fractured and the fright drove me mad."

"You, my father?"

"Yes, I completely lost my reason."

"Heavens! how terrible!"

"A kind surgeon carried me to a place of safety and afterward conveyed me to the Versailles asylum. I was perfectly harmless and spoke only of my lost treasures. For four years I remained in the same condition; then I gradually regained my reason, and two days since was p.r.o.nounced cured. I cannot express what I experienced as memory came back to me, after these five years of slumber; but I blush to admit that my first thought was that of the miser. What had become of my wealth? what use had it been put to? The moment the doors of my prison opened before me, I flew to my notary's office. You can imagine his stupefaction when he recognized me. He then informed me that your first thought had been to act as trustee only to my riches, and to use merely enough for your existence until you reached the age of thirty-five. Then came your severe illness six months later, and fearing you might die without accomplis.h.i.+ng your sacred task, you conceived other projects. 'What were these projects?' I asked. 'Wait until midnight to-morrow,' the notary replied, and go to the church at Chaillot. There you will learn all, and thank heaven to have given you such a son.' I had the patience to wait, my dear son, hoping to approach you without being recognized. Oh! my n.o.ble, beloved son! if you knew what I have heard and seen! Thanks to your grandeur of soul and the pious ruse of your filial affection, I found my name blessed and venerated! If you knew what sudden revolution took place in me! While blessings were showered on my memory, it seemed to me that my soul had burst its terrestrial chains and was hovering above the world, just as the souls of good men must hover above us, while listening to the expressions of love and grat.i.tude from those whom they have benefitted. But, alas! this illusion was of short duration---I was not deserving of these praises."

"You are mistaken, father," protested Louis. "Without your persevering economy I could never have accomplished anything. You placed the lever in my hand. My only merit has been to make good use of the immense force you concentrated at the price of innumerable sacrifices and privations. The horrible misery and the ignorance through which my beloved wife had suffered, the dangers to which they had exposed her, the cruel infirmity of her guardian, all these bitter things were a lesson to me; Mariette, her G.o.dmother and myself have tried, as far as it lay in our power, to spare others what we had suffered,--"

At this moment the door was burst suddenly open and Florestan de Saint-Herem dashed, breathless into the room.

"Rejoice, oh! rejoice!" he cried, throwing himself into his friend's arms. "Saint-Ramon has performed the most wonderful of miracles!"

"What do you mean?" gasped the astonished Louis.