"Your suspicion is unjust; I would die for you!"

"Really?"

The duke raised his eyes to heaven and heaved a long sigh.

"If I were to ask anything of you," she retorted, "it would not be so heroic a sacrifice, I a.s.sure you."

The carriage was now announced, and the party left the mansion. Almost at the same instant the old mulatto was also turning away from the place, dazzled and amazed at what he had heard and seen, and still dreaming of the blessings showered on the name of Saint-Ramon by the guests of this peculiar fete.

"Half-past eleven," murmured the old man, as the hour struck from a distant steeple. "I shall be there at midnight--and what shall I learn? Ah! what anguish is mine!"

And with a deep sigh he slowly began the ascent of the declivity, stretching along the Seine, to the Rue Chaillot.

CHAPTER XX.

The old mulatto wended his way slowly toward the heights of Chaillot, until he reached the church of that poor, populous _faubourg_.

To his astonishment, he found the church in a blaze of lights. Through the wide open door could be seen the sanctuary and altar, brilliantly illuminated with tapers and decorated with flowers, as though in antic.i.p.ation of some imposing ceremony, while grouped in the street and surrounding windows, a throng of curiosity seekers and belated wayfarers excitedly discussed the approaching event.

"They cannot delay much longer," observed one.

"No, for it is nearly midnight," rejoined another.

"Rather a strange hour for a marriage."

"Undoubtedly; but with such a dowry one can afford peculiar things."

"Who is to be married at this odd hour?" questioned the old man from the last speaker.

"You must be a stranger in this part of the city," replied the man addressed, "or you would know all about the _six marriages_, which for four years have taken place on the night of May 11 and 12."

"May 11 and 12," repeated the old man, with a start. "But why do you call it the _six marriages_?"

"Because each year six young girls, with a dowry of ten thousand francs each, are married here."

"A dowry of ten thousand francs! And from whom?"

"From a worthy man who died five years ago, whose name is as popular and as reverentially blessed in Chaillot as the _Pet.i.t manteau bleu_ in Paris."

"And who is this worthy man, in whose name these young girls are so generously dowered?" pursued the old mulatto, with a slight tremor in his voice.

"He was called Pere Richard," returned the man in a deferential tone.

"And why does this Pere Richard do so much good after his death?"

continued the old man, making an effort to conceal his emotion.

"Simply because this was his idea, and because his son religiously carries out his last wishes," explained the man. "And everybody can tell you what a n.o.ble man M. Louis Richard is. Himself, his wife and child live on three or four thousand francs a year, at the most, although he must have inherited a large fortune from his father to enable him to bestow annually a dowry of ten thousand francs each on six young girls, not counting the expenses of the 'school' and the 'House of Providence.'"

"Excuse the curiosity of a stranger; but you speak of a school and--"

"Yes; the school is directed by Madame Mariette, M. Louis Richard's wife. The school was founded for the benefit of twenty-five boys and as many girls, who remain there until they have attained the age of twelve, when they begin their apprenticeship. The children are fed, clothed and educated and receive ten sous a day. In this manner, parents are induced to send them to school instead of forcing them to work in shops."

"And the school is under the direction of M. Louis Richard's wife?'

"Yes; she claims to have suffered cruelly through her own want of education when she was only a poor shop girl, and she is particularly happy in the thought that she may save others the sufferings she endured."

"You also spoke of another inst.i.tution?"

"That house was founded for the benefit of twelve poor, crippled women who cannot work. It is under the direction of Madame Lacombe."

"Who is Madame Lacombe?"

"Madame Richard's G.o.dmother, a good, worthy soul, who lost one hand years ago. She is the personification of gentleness and patience.

She can truly sympathize with the crippled women under her charge, for she says that her G.o.ddaughter and herself often suffered the pangs of hunger before the former's marriage to M. Richard. But here is the wedding procession."

The old man turned to the street and saw a gay cortege approaching, led by Louis, with Madame Lacombe on his arm, closely followed by Mariette leading a pretty boy of four years by the hand.

Madame Lacombe was totally unrecognisable. Her face, formerly so haggard and worn, was the picture of health, while her countenance beamed with happiness and benevolence; her silver white hair was smoothly brushed back beneath a dainty lace cap, and her silk dress was half concealed by a beautiful cashmere shawl--a tasty toilet which gave her a most dignified and imposing appearance.

Louis Richard's features bore an expression of grave and reserved felicity, and he seemingly realized the full grandeur of the duties he had imposed upon himself; while Mariette, who had grown still prettier in this beneficial atmosphere, distinguished herself by that air of sweet gravity so becoming to young mothers. In her legitimate pride, she still retained the modest dress of her girlhood and wore the coquettish little cap of the shop-girl; and Providence, no doubt, rewarded her for her modesty, for she looked bewitchingly fresh and pretty beneath the lace head-gear, with its knots of pale blue ribbon, as she smiled sweetly on the blond rosy child at her side.

Next came six young girls, in white dresses and crowned with orange blossoms, accompanied by their fiances and relatives, all belonging to the laboring cla.s.s; then came the twenty-four couples united in the four previous years, followed by the school children and the crippled old women who had found refuge in the charitable inst.i.tutions founded with the miser's money.

The old mulatto gazed in silent reflection at the procession, while his neighbors commented freely on the memorable event.

"They owe all this happiness to old Richard," he heard some one say.

"And to his son," added another voice.

"Undoubtedly; but the son would have been powerless without the father's money."

"Do you know that more than a hundred and fifty persons a.s.sembled here owe everything to the good old man?"

"Yes; and in the last four years, six or seven hundred persons must have shared the benefits of the inheritance."

"And if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, the number will reach five or six thousands--thousands saved from misery and crime, perhaps."

"You forget the children of these happily married couples, who will have the advantages of education and good breeding procured by this generous dowry."

"You are right; the good accomplished by old Richard is beyond calculation. What a pity so few know how to spend their money!"

"Yes; but there are few such men as Richard and his son. But why are you weeping?" concluded the speaker, turning suddenly toward the old mulatto.

"The praises I hear on all sides of--of this Richard and his son, and the sight of so much happiness causes me a strange emotion," explained the old man.