Avarice-Anger Part 45

"Our readers will, we are sure, feel grateful to us," added the _Journal of the Empire_, "for having given them this extract from the brave privateer's letter. Thanks be to G.o.d, Captain l'Endurci, by his coolness and courage, succeeded in escaping this most infamous conspiracy against him. Let us hope that his name will long remain a terror to the enemies of France."

The article concluded, Onesime laid the paper on the table.

"What a wonderful man this corsair must be!" exclaimed the housekeeper, admiringly. "Alone, bound and gagged, he nevertheless found a way to escape his imminent danger."

"But what a quant.i.ty of blood he had to shed!" exclaimed the girl, shuddering. "And not a single word of regret or of pity for his victims.

With what cruel indifference he speaks of the men he killed in cold blood; for thus taken by surprise, the poor creatures could offer no resistance."

"That is true," murmured Onesime.

But his aunt did not even hear him, for, turning to the girl, she exclaimed, warmly:

"It is very easy to talk, my child, but in such a position one certainly has a right--"

"Ah, yes, my dear, you are probably going to say that this man was the victim of the vilest treachery,--that he had an undoubted right to recover his liberty at any cost, and that his ferocious disregard of the lives of others is what people call courage and heroism. All this is very possible. I am a poor judge, perhaps. I only tell you how it impresses me. This account of his exploits excites only horror and aversion in me."

"But a corsair is a corsair, my child. You certainly don't expect him to be a saint. Each man according to his trade."

"It is an executioner's business to behead people, aunt, but that makes his trade none the less horrible," exclaimed Onesime.

"Ah, I felt sure M. Onesime would feel as I do about it," said the girl, quickly.

"He? oh, yes, I don't doubt it! He is a regular sissy. When did you ever hear of his doing any fighting?"

"I admit that I am no hero, aunt," replied Onesime, smiling, "I don't doubt in the least that if I were a prisoner, and obliged to kill somebody to regain my liberty, I should remain a prisoner."

"Yours is the truest, n.o.blest kind of courage, after all," responded the young girl, warmly, for her dislike of warriors in general was perhaps due in a great measure to the fact that Onesime, both by reason of his temperament and his infirmity, was never likely to be a man of that kind.

"Onesime courageous!" retorted the housekeeper. "You must be jesting!"

Then, turning to her nephew, she cried: "Don't you see that mademoiselle is making fun of you, my poor boy? Oh, well, put my knitting on the table for me, my brave hero, and hand me my work-box without dropping it if you can."

The young man was consequently obliged to hold out both his hands in turn, one to present the work-box, the other to take the knitting, and as the light from the lamp fell full on the table, the pitiless aunt instantly discovered the terrible burn he had received.

"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your hand?" she exclaimed.

"Nothing of any consequence, aunt," he replied, hastily drawing back his hand, while the young girl, whose attention had been attracted by the housekeeper's exclamation, turned toward him anxiously.

But the aunt sprang up, and, seizing her nephew's hand in spite of his efforts to hide it, examined it carefully.

"It is frightfully burned, frightfully!" she cried. "Why, you must be suffering agony with it. It was just done. How did it happen? I know. It was when you poured the boiling water in the urn, and, for fear we would laugh at you, you endured the terrible pain without a word. You even had the courage to go on reading all this time just as if nothing had happened."

"Ah, I told you that he was brave," exclaimed the young girl. "His is the true courage, after all,--not the ferocious courage born of anger, that seeks only to destroy, but the courage of n.o.ble hearts who, for fear of alarming those whom they love, endure the most intense suffering without so much as a sign."

The girl's emotion repaid the young man a thousand-fold for his suffering; he even had the happiness of seeing the touching expression of her features, too, this time, as she would insist upon a.s.sisting the housekeeper in dressing Onesime's hand.

This work had just been completed, and Onesime was regretting that he had only one burn, when the door of the little parlour was suddenly thrown open, and a servant rushed in, exclaiming:

"Dame Roberts, Dame Roberts, M. Segoffin has come!"

"And my father,--my father has come too, has he not?" exclaimed the girl, her face radiant with joy.

"No, mademoiselle, M. Segoffin says monsieur was detained at the post-office by some letters, but that he will be here almost immediately."

The girl hastened out of the room to prepare to meet her father. As the door closed behind her, Dame Roberts turned to her nephew and said:

"Go up to your room now, Onesime. I will see you before I go to bed and tell you what M. Cloarek says in relation to you, for he must know why I took you into his house in his absence, though I know his kindness of heart well enough to feel sure that he will approve of what I have done."

So Onesime went up to his room oppressed by a vague uneasiness. He had scarcely left the parlour, when M. Segoffin entered it.

CHAPTER X.

SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION.

It would be far from complimentary to the reader's penetration to suppose that he had not long since recognised in Onesime's defender Mlle. Cloarek, who lost her mother at the age of five years, in consequence of a nervous shock. We trust, too, that the reader's penetration has served him equally well in the case of Suzanne Roberts, Sabine's former nurse, and Madame Cloarek's confidential attendant and housekeeper, and likewise in the case of Captain l'Endurci and his brave head gunner.

Twelve years have elapsed since we last saw Segoffin, and he is little changed in appearance. He looks as much like a clown as ever, the only modifications which time, or rather events, have made in his grotesquely grave features being, first, a deep scar beginning at the left temple, and extending to the bottom of the cheek (a wound caused, as he affirmed, by an unfortunate fall upon a piece of broken gla.s.s).

Second, the recent loss of an eye, an unfortunate loss indicated by a large black patch, and caused, no doubt, by some similar mishap.

In spite of these rather grave injuries to his personal charms, M.

Segoffin held his head as high as ever. A long white cravat, decorated with bright red polka dots, encircled his throat; his long redingote and knee-breeches were of the finest brown broadcloth, and his black stockings were of silk. In his right hand, from which two fingers were missing,--two fingers carelessly lost, as he declared, from having been caught in a piece of machinery,--he carried a heavy cane, for he was quite lame now, in consequence of another accident,--at least, so he said.

On seeing Segoffin, Dame Roberts, in spite of the taunts with which she had pursued him for so many years, made no attempt to conceal her pleasure. In the delight his return caused her, she did not notice, at first, that Segoffin was all the while endeavouring to present only his profile, or as nearly a three-quarter view of his face as possible, to the object of his affections. The fact is, he wished to defer the explanation of the recent loss of his eye until the latest possible moment, but the lady, on going a little closer to him, noticed the disfiguring patch, and exclaimed:

"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your eye, Segoffin?"

"Which eye?"

"Why, your right eye."

"My right eye?"

"Yes. Why do you wear that big black patch over it?"

"I know."

"I should suppose that you did. As for me, I am afraid to guess what the matter is."

"Nonsense! guess away."

"You have lost an eye."