"I do not know how many more years I have to live, but if I live ten years longer I shall have reached the allotted age of man. You will be thirty-five, and I shall have ama.s.sed a fortune of four or five millions, as property doubles itself in ten years.

"So, in all probability, you will have reached middle age when you come into possession of this large property, and the sober, frugal, and laborious habits acquired in infancy will have become second nature with you; so will you not be in the best possible condition to inherit the wealth I have ama.s.sed for you, and to use it wisely and well?

"If I had acted differently, what benefit would have accrued to either of us?

"If I had been lavish in my expenditures, I should have reduced you to poverty.

"If I had contented myself with spending my income only, then, instead of devoting ourselves to some useful employment, we should probably have led idle, aimless lives; instead of living frugally, we should have indulged in luxuries and more or less vain display; in short, we should have led such a life as nearly all wealthy people of the middle cla.s.s lead.

"And what should we have gained by it?

"Should we have been better or more useful citizens? I doubt it, and, at my death, I should have left you a small property, not sufficient for the realisation of any extensive or generous enterprise.

"One word more, my dear child, to answer in advance any reproach that you may in future address to my memory.

"Rest a.s.sured if I kept my wealth a secret from you, it was not from any desire to deceive you, nor from any distrust on my part.

"These were my reasons:

"Ignorant of my wealth, you were resigned to poverty; aware of our wealth, you might have accepted the humble existence I imposed upon you without murmuring, but in your secret heart you might have accused me of cruelty and selfishness.

"Nor was this all. Forgive, my son, this foolish fear,--this apprehension so insulting to your affectionate heart,--but during my lifetime I was loath that you should know that you would profit by my death.

"Another, and possibly the most potent reason of all, led me to conceal my wealth from you. I love you so much that it would have been impossible for me to see you subjected to the slightest privation had you known it depended only upon me to give you an easier, broader, and more luxurious life.

"In spite of the apparent contradiction between this feeling and my avaricious conduct toward you, I hope that you will understand me.

"And now that in thought I place myself face to face with death, which may strike me down to-morrow, to-day, this very hour, I solemnly declare that I bless you from the inmost depths of my soul, my beloved son. You have never given me one moment's pain or sorrow, but only joy and happiness.

"G.o.d for ever bless you, my good and loving son. If you are as happy as you deserve to be, the dearest wish of my heart will be gratified.

"Your father,

A. RICHARD.

"_Paris, February 25, 18--._"

Deeply touched by this strange letter, Louis fell into a deep, sad reverie, and the day was nearing a close when the young man heard some one knock at the door of his garret, and the well-known voice of Florestan de Saint-Herem greeted his ears.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE MISER EXTOLLED.

Saint-Herem threw himself in his friend's arms, exclaiming:

"Louis, my poor friend, I know all. The porter just told me of your father's death. What a sudden and cruel blow!"

"Read this, Florestan, and you will understand how bitter my regret must be!" said Louis, brokenly, handing Saint-Herem the dead man's letter.

"Now do you think any one can blame my father for his avarice?" Louis asked, when his friend had finished the letter. "His one thought seems to have been to enrich me, and to prepare me to make a good use of the large property he would bequeath to me. It was for my sake that he h.o.a.rded his wealth, and imposed the hardest privations upon himself!"

"No sacrifice is too great for a miser," replied Florestan. "Misers are capable of the grandest and most heroic acts. This may seem a paradox to you, but it is true, nevertheless. The prejudice against misers is unjust in the extreme. Misers! Why, we ought to erect altars to them!"

added Saint-Herem, with growing enthusiasm. "Is it not wonderful the ingenuity they display in devising all sorts of ways to save? Is it not marvellous to see them acc.u.mulating, by persistent efforts, a fortune from the ends of matches and the collecting of lost pins. And people deny the existence of alchemists, and of discoverers of the philosopher's stone! Why, the miser has found the philosopher's stone, for does he not make gold out of what would be worthless to others?"

"You are right in that respect, Florestan."

"In that respect and all other respects, for, Louis, observe my simile closely. It is wonderfully just and worthy of my best rhetorical efforts. There is a dry and sterile tract of land. Some one digs a well there. What is the result? The smallest springs, the almost imperceptible oozings from the earth, the tiniest threads of water, acc.u.mulate drop by drop in this well. Gradually the water deepens, the reservoir becomes full, then comes a beneficent hand that diffuses the contents all around, and flowers and verdure spring up as if by enchantment on this once barren soil. Say, Louis, is not my comparison a just one? Is not the wealth ama.s.sed by the miser almost always spent in luxuries of every kind? for, as the proverb says: 'An avaricious father, a spendthrift son.' And let us consider the miser from a religious point of view."

"From a religious point of view?"

"Yes; for it is seen from that standpoint that he is especially worthy of praise."

"That is a very difficult a.s.sertion to prove, it seems to me."

"On the contrary, it is extremely easy. Self-abnegation is one of the greatest of virtues, is it not?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to mention any monastic order whose members renounce all earthly pleasures as absolutely as the majority of misers do. Capuchins renounce champagne, race-horses, dancing girls, hunting, cards, and the opera. I should think so. Most of them have good reasons for it. But how different with the miser! There, in his coffers, under lock and key, are the means of gratifying every wish and indulging in every luxury and pleasure, and yet he possesses the moral courage and strength of will to resist all these temptations. In his disinterestedness, too, the miser is sublime."

"Disinterestedness, Florestan?"

"Yes, I repeat that his disinterestedness is sublime. He knows perfectly well that he is execrated during life, and that his heirs will dance upon his grave when he is dead. He knows all that, and yet, mention a single case where a miser has tried to take his treasure with him, though it would be an easy matter, as it wouldn't take five minutes to burn two millions in bank-notes. But no, these kind-hearted misers, full of compa.s.sion, practise forgiveness of injuries, and leave their vast wealth to their heirs in almost every case."

"But, my friend, it sounds very strangely to hear a person who spends money as lavishly as you do lauding avarice to the skies."

"All the more reason that I should."

"And why?"

"Who can appreciate the excellence of the armourer's work as well as the warrior? The excellence of a horse as well as the rider? the excellence of a musical instrument as well as the person who plays upon it? Pope Paganini has canonised Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful violins the great artist plays so divinely; and I, who could spend millions so admirably, shall certainly feel like canonising my uncle--that heroic martyr to avarice--if Fate so wills that the means of prodigality which he had been acc.u.mulating penny by penny ever falls into my hands."

"My G.o.d!"

"What is the matter, Louis?"

"Then you do not know--"

"What?"

"I told you of my poor father's desire for a marriage between me and your cousin."

"Yes, what of it?"