When he reached the gate, he saw a placard pasted on the wall; he read: "This house for sale or rent."

"It's ours!" he cried. "I am going to live again in the house where I pa.s.sed my childhood; I ran away from it at fifteen years of age, I shall return to it at thirty; G.o.d grant that I may never leave it again!

Adeline, I am sure, will be delighted to return to it; it was here, she told me, that she pa.s.sed the happiest days of her life; even if this place does remind her of a man she loved too well, at all events when they lived here he was still worthy of her."

Jacques rang at the gate; no one answered, but a neighbor advised him to go to the notary's, which was almost opposite. The notary was the same man who had made the deeds for Edouard Murville four years before. The house, having fallen into the hands of creditors, had belonged to several owners in succession. The present owner almost never lived in it and was very desirous to get rid of it. Jacques inquired the price and promised to return the next day to conclude the bargain; he dared not do it without consulting Monsieur Gerval. He hastened back to the farm, and the old man saw by his pleased expression that he had found a house which suited him.

"You will recognize it," said Jacques, "for you often went there in the old days; it is the house that belonged to my father."

"And you didn't conclude the bargain? Well! well! I see that I must go myself and settle the business."

And the next morning the old man set out in his carriage with his dear G.o.dson. He drove to the notary's and purchased the estate in the name of Jacques, knowing that he did not intend to bear any other name; but honest Gerval asked no explanation of that resolution, because he guessed a part of Edouard's misconduct.

"Here, my boy," he said to Jacques, as he handed him the deed; "it is high time that I should make you a present, to recompense you for having given you such a wretched name. This estate is yours, and my little Jacques is at home in the house from which his name caused him to run away long ago."

Jacques embraced the old man, and they returned to the farm for Adeline and her daughter.

"Did I misjudge your heart," Jacques asked his sister-in-law, "in thinking that you would be glad to find yourself back in the dear old house at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges?"

"No, my friend," replied Adeline; "I have been too happy there not to wish to pa.s.s the rest of my life there; happy memories will sometimes mingle with my sad thoughts; I will banish from my mind all that he has done elsewhere than there, and I will try to remember only the days of his affection for me; then I shall at least be able to weep for him without blushing."

The Guillot family learned with delight that their friends were not to leave the country; for the road from Villeneuve-Saint-Georges to the farm was a pleasant walk, and they promised one another to take it often in the fine weather.

Four days after their arrival, our travellers started for the new abode in which they proposed to establish themselves. Adeline's eyes were wet with tears when she stood once more in that house, when she saw again those gardens which had witnessed the first months of her married life--such pleasant months, which pa.s.sed so quickly, never to return!

Catherine took possession of the kitchen, Lucas of the garden and of the post of concierge. Monsieur Gerval chose a room between Jacques and Adeline, whom he liked to have near him; and little Ermance remained with her mother, to cheer her by her prattle, to charm away her melancholy by her caresses, and to mingle some hopes with her memories.

Sans-Souci wished to resume his labors at the farm, but Monsieur Gerval and Jacques remonstrated.

"You saved my life," said the old man, "and I don't want you to leave me."

"You shared my trials and my adversity," said Jacques, "and you must share my fortune; everything is common between us."

"Sacrebleu!" said Sans-Souci, pa.s.sing his hand over his eyes, "these people do whatever they please with me. I will stay with you, that's all right, but only on condition that I shall be at liberty to go to walk when you have company, and that I shan't sit at table with Madame Adeline; for a man should be respectful to his superiors, and I am as stupid as a goose in society."

"You shall go to walk as much as you please," said the old man; "you shall hunt and fish, and smoke if that will give you pleasure; but you are going to sit at table with us, because a brave man is out of place nowhere."

"All right, ten thousand cartridges! I see I must submit to that too."

No more misadventures, no more storms, no more misfortunes; tranquil days had dawned at last for the family at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges.

Adeline's unhappiness had become a gentle melancholy, which the graces and caresses of her daughter beguiled and made endurable. Little Ermance grew and improved; her features became sweet and attractive; her voice was as soft as her mother's, and her sensitive and kindly heart never turned away the unfortunate. Jacques, proud of his niece, had lost a little of his brusque manner since he had lived in the bosom of his family. Sans-Souci still swore, and would have thrown himself into the fire for any of his friends. Old Gerval was made doubly happy at the sight of the good that he himself did, and that Jacques did. In short, one and all enjoyed a peaceable life, and the people at the farm were often visited by their friends from the village.

A single thing marred Sans-Souci's happiness; it was that Jacques no longer wore the decoration that he had won on the battle-field.

"Why don't you wear it any more?" he would say to him, when they were alone; "what can prevent you? Morbleu! you act like a fool with your resolutions."

"My brother disgraced our name."

"Well! was it to you or your name that they gave the cross?"

"It's out of respect for that honorable reward, that I deprive myself of the pleasure of wearing it."

"But when you go by the name of Jacques simply----"

"That doesn't matter; I know none the less that Edouard was a--Why, I tell you, that ghastly thought would make me blush for that symbol of honor; I shall never wear it again."

"You are wrong."

"That may be; I am and I shall always be a man of honor; but I have no pride left when I think of my brother's shame."

The tranquillity enjoyed by the family at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges was disturbed by a melancholy event which they still believed to be far away: honest Gerval fell sick and died, and the zealous care of all those who surrounded him was unavailing to save him.

"My children," he said to them in his last moments, "I am sorry to leave you, but at all events my mind is at rest concerning your future. I hoped to live longer among you, but fate wills otherwise and I must submit. Think of me, but don't weep."

The old man left his whole fortune to Jacques and Adeline. He had thirty thousand francs a year, a large part of which was used in a.s.sisting the unfortunate. Old Catherine survived her master only a few months, and those two events caused deep sadness among the occupants of Jacques's house for a long while.

But time is always successful in calming the bitterest regrets; it triumphs over everything; it is the Lethe wherein the memories of our troubles and our pleasures alike are drowned.

Years pa.s.sed. Ermance was nine years old; she was Jacques's delight, and her mother's consolation. In order not to part with her, they caused teachers to come to the village to begin her education.

"Ten thousand carbines!" said Sans-Souci as he looked at the little girl; "that little face will turn a devilish lot of heads! Wit, beauty, charm, talent, a kind heart,--she will have everything, sacrebleu!"

"Yes," said Jacques, "but she will never be able to mention her father."

"Oh! mon Dieu! there are many people in the same plight; that won't prevent your niece from rousing pa.s.sions."

"Morbleu! those same pa.s.sions are what cause most of the unhappiness of life; I would much prefer that she should not rouse any."

"She won't ask your permission for that, comrade."

Adeline was proud of her daughter, who, being blest with the most happy disposition, also made rapid progress in everything that she was taught.

"Dear Ermance!" her mother would say as she gazed at her, "may you be happier than your parents!"

At such times, Adeline would devote a moment's thought to Edouard, whom she believed to have died long since in dest.i.tution and despair. "Ah!"

she would say sometimes to Jacques, when their eyes expressed the same thought, "if only I could think that he died repentant, I feel that I should have some slight consolation."

Jacques would make no reply, but he would call Ermance and take her to Adeline, that the sight of her might dispel a painful memory. Jacques did not know that a mother always sees in her child the image of the man she has loved.

One lovely summer evening, Jacques was walking to and fro pensively at the end of the garden; Ermance, not very far from her uncle, was amusing herself by plucking flowers, and Adeline, seated a few steps away on the turf, looked on in silence at the graceful movements of her daughter.

Suddenly Ermance, as she ran toward a clump of rose bushes, uttered a cry of alarm and stopped abruptly. Adeline ran to her daughter; Jacques also drew near, and they both inquired what had frightened her.

"Look, look!" replied the child, pointing to the end of the garden, "look, it is still there; that face frightened me."

Jacques and Adeline looked in the direction indicated by Ermance, and saw behind the small gate covered with boards, in the same spot where the face with moustaches had appeared long ago, a man's face gazing into the garden.

"What a strange coincidence!" said Adeline, looking at Jacques; "do you remember, my friend, that at that same spot, ten years ago, you appeared before us?"

"That is true," said Jacques; "yes, I remember very well."