CHAPTER V.
Several days had pa.s.sed since the visit to the Chateau de Pont Brillant.
Frederick had never left his mother"s house to visit the homes of persons of an even humbler station than his own, so the impression which the sight of the splendours and the almost royal luxury that pervaded it had made upon him had suffered no diminution. When, on the following morning, the lad awoke in his own little room, it seemed bare and comfortless to him, and when he afterward went as usual to bid his mother good morning, he involuntarily compared the costly elegance of the Marquise de Pont Brillant"s apartments with the poverty of his mother"s surroundings, and experienced a strange sinking of heart.
An unlucky chance deepened this impression. When Frederick entered his mother"s room, the young woman, in all the freshness of her marvellous beauty, was arranging her beautiful brown hair in front of a cheap painted toilet-table covered with oilcloth and surmounted by a tiny gla.s.s with a black frame.
Frederick, remembering the rich lace and satin and gold that adorned the dressing-room of the dowager marquise, experienced for the first time in his life a bitter pang of envy, as he said to himself:
"Doesn"t that elegant, luxurious boudoir I saw at the castle seem much better suited to a beautiful and charming woman like my mother than to a wrinkled octogenarian who, in her ridiculous vanity, wants to admire her withered face in mirrors wreathed with lace and ribbons!"
Already strangely depressed in spirits, Frederick went out into the garden. The morning was perfect, and the dew on the petals of the flowers glistened like pearls in the bright July sunshine. Heretofore the lad, like his mother, had often gone into ecstasies over the beauty, freshness, and exquisite perfume of some specially fine rose; the snowy petals of the Easter flowers, the velvety petals of the pansies, and the exquisite delicacy of the acacia had always excited his lively admiration, but now he had only careless, almost disdainful looks for these simple flowers, as he thought of the rare and magnificent tropical plants that filled the s.p.a.cious conservatories of the chateau. The grove of venerable oaks, enlivened by the gay warbling of birds that seemed to be replying to the soft murmur of the little waterfall, was also viewed with disdain. How insignificant these things appeared in comparison with the magnificent grounds of the chateau, adorned with rare statues and superb fountains peopled with bronze naiads and Tritons sending great jets of water as high as the tree-tops.
Absorbed in thoughts like these, Frederick walked slowly on until he reached the edge of the grove. There he paused and gazed mechanically around him, then gave a sudden start, and turned abruptly, as he perceived in the distance the chateau standing out clearly against the horizon in the bright light of the rising sun. At the sight of it Frederick hastily retreated into the shadows of the grove, but, alas!
though he could thus close his bodily eyes to this resplendent vision, the lad"s too faithful memory kept the wonders that had so impressed him continually before his mental vision, inducing comparisons which poisoned the simple pleasures of the past, until now so full of charm.
As he pa.s.sed the open door of the stable, a superannuated farm horse which was sometimes harnessed to a sort of chaise, Madame Bastien"s only equipage, whinnied in his stall for the crusts of bread that he had been in the habit of receiving every morning from his young master.
Frederick had forgotten to bring the crusts that morning, and to atone for his forgetfulness, he tore up a big handful of fresh gra.s.s and offered it to his faithful old friend, but suddenly remembering the magnificent blooded horses he had seen at the castle, he smiled bitterly and turned brusquely away from the old horse, who, with the gra.s.s still between his teeth, watched his young master for a long time with an expression of almost human intelligence.
Soon afterward an old and infirm woman, to whom Frederick, having no money, gave bread and fruit every week, came to the house as usual.
"Here, my good mother," he said, as he presented his usual offering, "I wish I could do more for you, but my mother and I have no money."
"You are very kind all the same, M. Bastien," replied the woman, "but I shall not be obliged to ask anything of you much longer."
"Why not?"
"Why, you see, M. Bastien, that M. le marquis is coming to live at the castle, and these great n.o.blemen are very generous with their money, and I hope to get my share. Your servant, M. Bastien."
Frederick blushed for the first time at the humble gift he had made heretofore with such pleasure and contentment, so shortly afterward, when another beggar accosted him, he said:
"You would only sneer at what I can give you. Apply to M. le marquis. He should act as a benefactor to the entire neighbourhood. He is so rich!"
That such bitter envy should have taken such sudden but absolute possession of Frederick"s heart seems strange indeed to those who know his past, yet this apparent anomaly can be easily explained.
Madame Bastien"s son had been reared in an exceedingly modest home, but his mother"s taste and refinement had imbued even these plain surroundings with an air of elegance and distinction, and, thanks to a thousand nothings, the ensemble had been charming.
The love of beauty and elegance thus developed rendered Frederick peculiarly susceptible to the charm of the wonders he had seen at the castle, and the longing to possess them naturally corresponded with his appreciation and admiration.
If, on the contrary, Frederick"s life had been spent amid rough and coa.r.s.e surroundings, he would have been more amazed than surprised at the treasures which the chateau contained, and, ignorant of the refined enjoyment that could be derived from them, he would have been much less likely to envy the fortunate possessor of them.
Madame Bastien soon perceived the change that was gradually taking place in her son, and that manifested itself in frequent fits of melancholy.
The humble home no longer resounded with peals of laughter as in days gone by. When his studies were over, Frederick picked up a book and read during the entire recreation hour, but more than once Madame Bastien noticed that her son"s eyes remained fixed upon the same page for a quarter of an hour.
Her anxiety increasing, Madame Bastien remarked to her son: "My son, you seem so grave and taciturn and preoccupied, you are not nearly as lively as formerly."
"True, mother," replied Frederick, forcing a smile, "I am sometimes surprised myself at the more serious turn my mind is taking. Still, it is not at all astonishing. I am no longer a child. It is quite time for me to be getting sensible."
Frederick had never lied before, but he was lying now. Up to this time he had always confessed his faults to his mother. She had been the confidant of his every thought, but the mere idea of confessing or of allowing her to discover the bitter feelings which his visit to the Chateau de Pont Brillant had excited in his breast filled him with shame and dismay. In fact, he would rather have died than confess that he was enduring the torments of envy; so, placed upon his guard by Madame Bastien"s lively solicitude, he devoted all his powers of mind and strength of will to conceal the wound that was beginning to rankle in his soul, but it is almost certain that his attempts to deceive his mother"s tender sagacity would have proved futile had that mother not been at the same time rea.s.sured and deceived by Doctor Dufour.
"Don"t be alarmed," the physician said to her when she, in all sincerity, consulted him on the subject of her fears. "At the time of p.u.b.erty, an entire change often takes place in a youth"s character. The gayest and most demonstrative often become the most gloomy and taciturn.
They experience the most unreasonable melancholy, the most acute anxiety. They give way to fits of profound depression, and feel an intense longing for solitude. So do not be alarmed, and above all give no sign of having noticed this change in your son. This almost inevitable crisis will be over in a few months, and you will then see Frederick himself again. He will have a different voice, that is all."
Doctor Dufour"s mistake was the more excusable as the symptoms which so alarmed Madame Bastien strongly resembled those which are often noticed in youths at that age; so Madame Bastien accepted this explanation, as she could not divine the real cause of this change in Frederick.
This change had not manifested itself immediately after the visit to the chateau. It had, on the contrary, taken place gradually, almost imperceptibly, in fact, so that more than a month had elapsed before Madame Bastien really began to feel uneasy, hence it did not seem at all probable that there could be any connection between the visit to the chateau and Frederick"s melancholy.
Besides, how could Madame Bastien suppose that this youth reared by her--a youth who had always seemed of so n.o.ble and generous a character--could know envy?
So, rea.s.sured by Doctor Dufour, Madame Bastien, though she watched the different phases of her son"s condition, forced herself to conceal the sadness she often felt on seeing him so changed, and awaited his recovery with resignation.
At first Frederick had tried to find some diversion in study, but soon study became impossible; his mind was elsewhere. Then he said to himself:
"Whatever I may learn, whatever I may know, I shall never be anything but Frederick Bastien, a sort of half peasant, doomed to a life of obscurity, while that young marquis, without ever having done anything to deserve it, enjoys all the glory of a name which has been ill.u.s.trious for ages."
Then, as all the feudal relics at Pont Brillant, those galleries of paintings, those family portraits, those gorgeous escutcheons, recurred to Frederick"s mind, for the first time in his life the poor boy felt deeply humiliated by the obscurity of his birth, and overcome with discouragement, said to himself:
"This young marquis, already weary of the magnificence by which he is surrounded, indifferent to the treasures of which even a thousandth part would make my mother and me and a host of others so happy. Why, and by what right does he possess all this magnificence? Has he acquired these blessings by his toil? No. To enjoy all this, he has only taken the trouble to be born. Why should he have everything and others nothing?"
CHAPTER VI.
The first period of envy that Frederick experienced was of a pa.s.sive, the second of an active character.
It is impossible to describe what he suffered then, especially as this feeling, concealed, concentrated as it were in the lowest depths of his soul, had no outlet, and was constantly stimulated by the sight of the castle, which seemed to meet his gaze at every turn, dominating as it did the whole country roundabout. The more Frederick realised the alarming progress of his malady, the more strenuously he endeavoured to hide it from his mother, telling himself in his gloom and despair that such weakness deserved scorn and contempt, and that not even a mother could condone it.
All mental maladies react upon the physical system. Frederick"s health gradually gave way. He could not sleep, and he, who had formerly been so energetic and active, seemed to dread the slightest exertion. In fact, the pressing and tender solicitations of his mother could alone arouse him from his apathy or his gloomy reveries.
Poor Marie! How intensely she, too, suffered, but in silence, endeavouring to maintain a cheerful manner all the while for fear of alarming her son about himself, and waiting with mingled anxiety and hope the end of this crisis in her son"s life.
But alas! how long and painful this waiting seemed. What a change! What a contrast between this gloomy, listless, taciturn life, and the bright, busy, happy existence she and her son had previously led!
One day early in October Madame Bastien and her son were together in the room that served both as parlour and study. Frederick, seated at the table, with his head supported on his left hand, was writing slowly and listlessly in a large exercise book.
Madame Bastien, seated only a little distance from him, was apparently occupied with some embroidery, but in reality she was holding her needle suspended in the air, ready to resume her work at her son"s slightest movement, while she furtively watched him.
Tears she could hardly restrain filled her eyes as she noted the terrible change in her son"s appearance, and remembered that only a comparatively short while ago the hours spent in study at this same table had been such pleasant, happy hours both for Frederick and herself, and compared the zeal and enthusiasm which her son had then displayed in his work with the listlessness and indifference she now remarked in him, for she soon saw his pen slip from his fingers, while his countenance displayed an intense ennui and la.s.situde.
At last the lad, only half smothering a heavy sigh, buried his face in his hands and remained in this att.i.tude several moments. His mother did not lose sight of him for an instant, but what was her surprise on seeing her son suddenly lift his head, and with eyes flashing and a faint colour tinging his cheeks, while a sardonic smile curved his lips, suddenly seize his pen again, and begin writing with feverish rapidity.
The youth was transfigured. So inert, despondent, and lethargic a moment before, he now seemed full to overflowing of life and animation. One could see that his thoughts, too, flowed much more rapidly than his pen could trace them on the paper, by an occasional impatient movement of the body or the quick tapping of his foot upon the floor.