"How cold your hands are, my son. Your writing-table is too far from the fire. You ought to move your table to this part of the room."
"I will, mother, if you wish it."
"I wish you would do so presently, but first we must have a little talk."
"About what?"
"About a very important matter, my son."
"I am listening."
"The reasons that decided me to employ a tutor for you still exist, though he has left us. There are branches in which you need instruction which I am unfortunately not able to give."
"I seem to have lost all taste for study now, you know, mother."
"You must make some effort to overcome this languor. It worries me very much."
"I will try, mother."
"But it seems to me that if you had some one to encourage you in your good resolutions, and a.s.sist your studies, it would be much better for you, don"t you think so?"
"Your encouragement suffices for me."
"I may encourage you, but as I said before, I am unable to render you any a.s.sistance, so I have thought it would be advisable to replace the tutor who just left us."
"Replace him? It is not worth while to think of that, mother. I don"t want any tutor."
"But you need one, nevertheless, so I have engaged a new one for you."
"You must be joking, mother."
"You and I seem to have gotten sadly out of the habit of jesting, my dear boy. The jolly times you and I used to have together seem almost like a dream when I think of them now. But to return to the subject I was speaking of. Your new tutor will probably arrive--"
"Arrive! When?"
"To-day."
Frederick"s face turned scarlet, and, springing up abruptly, he stamped angrily upon the floor, exclaiming:
"I will not have any tutor, mother; do you hear me?"
"But listen, my child, I beg of you."
"I will not have a tutor, I tell you. Send him away; it is useless to take him. I will serve him exactly as I did the other."
Up to this time Madame Bastien"s manner toward her son had always been tender, almost entreating, but realising that she must show no weakness now, she replied, in a firm though affectionate tone:
"I have decided that it will be for your interest to have a tutor, my son, so I feel sure you will respect my wishes."
"You will see if I do."
"If you mean by that, that you hope to wear your new tutor out by your obstinacy and ill-temper, you will make a great mistake; first, because you will grieve me very much, and, secondly, because M. David, for that is his name, is not a person who will be easily disheartened. This is sufficiently proven by the fact that your anger and impertinence only served to arouse his commiseration."
"What do you mean? Who are you talking about?"
"The gentleman you met at Doctor Dufour"s house."
"What! that man--"
"Is the tutor I have selected for you."
"Is that so?" responded Frederick, with a bitter smile. "After all, what difference does it make? I had just as soon contend with one as with the other."
Though convinced that Henri David was fully prepared for all the tribulations of the difficult task he wished to undertake, Marie was naturally desirous of sparing the generous-hearted man an ungracious reception, so she resolved to appeal to her son"s affection, which had never failed her heretofore.
"My dear son, I feel sure of being understood when I tell you that it is in the name of my tenderness and devotion for you that I implore you to treat M. David with the respectful deference due to his character and merits. That is all I ask. Affection and confidence are sure to come later. But if you do not treat him as you ought, I shall think, yes, I shall think that you have ceased to love me, Frederick. You make no reply. I understand why, my son. You think I am exaggerating, do you not, when I say that I shall think you have ceased to love me if you treat your new tutor rudely? But, my son, the coming of this new tutor means your salvation and mine, for I truly believe it will prove the beginning of a new era of hope and happiness for us both, and that being the case, you would not grieve and disappoint me by receiving M. David rudely, for no son who loved his mother would wish to make me miserable; so you see I do not exaggerate, after all, my child. But, Frederick, you turn away your head. You refuse to look at me. What I say about your having ceased to love me is true, then! You do not say so much as a word to rea.s.sure me, you who used to be so loving and affectionate. Why are you angry with me? What have I done?"
"You feel better now, doubtless, since you have summoned a stranger to your aid, mother."
"What else could I do? Be just, I beg of you. What am I to think when I see you utterly unmoved by all I say to you? Is it true that in a few brief months I have lost all influence over you, that my tears and entreaties are alike powerless to move you? And when I see only too plainly that this is the case, you are angry because I summon some one to my aid. Is it possible that you are no longer able to distinguish good from evil, that all that is good and generous and n.o.ble is dead within you? In that case my last hope has indeed fled. I must bring myself face to face with the hideous reality, and as you force me, absolutely force me, to do it," added Marie, in a voice almost inaudible from horror, "I must remind you of that horrible scene, the other night, in the forest--in the forest--when you--when you tried--tried to kill--in the most cowardly manner-- Oh, my G.o.d! my son, _my son_, an _a.s.sa.s.sin_!"
The last word was accompanied with such an outburst of despairing sobs that Frederick turned pale and trembled from head to foot.
On hearing the word "a.s.sa.s.sin" applied to him by his own mother, Frederick realised for the first time the enormity of the crime he had tried to commit, and noticing her son"s gloomy silence, and the expression of profound despair that had succeeded his strained and sarcastic smile, Madame Bastien asked herself, with increasing anxiety, whether the result of this cruel scene would be disastrous or salutary for Frederick; but just then Marguerite entered hurriedly, and said to her mistress:
"The doctor has just arrived with another gentleman, madame. They wish to see you."
"Frederick," exclaimed the young mother, hastily wiping away her tears, "my son, it is your new tutor, M. David. I implore you--"
But she could not finish the sentence, for Doctor Dufour entered, accompanied by Henri David.
The latter bowed low to Madame Bastien, but as he raised his head he saw traces of recent tears on the lady"s face. He noticed, too, Frederick"s livid pallor and his gloomy and defiant air, so he would have had no trouble in divining what had just taken place, even if an imploring look from Madame Bastien had not still further enlightened him.
"Madame, I have the honour to present my friend, M. Henri David," began the doctor.
Madame Bastien was so overwhelmed with emotion, that she could only rise from her chair, into which she sank back again after bowing to David, who said:
"I shall endeavour to be worthy of the confidence you have manifested in me, madame."
"My son," said Marie Bastien, in a voice she tried hard to steady, "I hope you will not disappoint the expectations of M. David, who has kindly consented to a.s.sume the direction of your studies."
"Monsieur," said Frederick, looking his new tutor full in the face, "you come here in spite of me. You will leave here on account of me."
"_Mon Dieu!_" murmured Madame Bastien, with a despairing sob, and, overcome with shame and confusion, she dared not even lift her eyes to Henri David"s face.
"You will regret those words when you learn to know me better," said Henri David, with a look of infinite compa.s.sion.
Frederick burst into a shrill, sardonic laugh, and rushed out of the room.