"Forgive me, M. David, for having thought you were laughing at me, but—"
"But what I said to you seemed so strange, did it not, that you could not believe that I was speaking seriously?"
"That is true."
"So it ought to be, nevertheless my words are sincere, and I am going to prove it to you."
Frederick fixed on David a look full of pain and eager curiosity.
"Yes, my child, envy, in itself, is an excellent quality; only you, up to this time, have applied it improperly,—you have envied wickedly instead of envying well."
"Envy well! Envy an excellent quality!" repeated Frederick, as if he could not believe his ears. "Envy, frightful envy, which corrodes, which devours, which kills!"
"My poor child, the Loire came near, just now, being your tomb. Had that misfortune happened, would not your mother have cried, 'Oh, the accursed river which kills,—accursed river which has swallowed up my son!'"
"Alas, M. David!"
"And if these fears of inundation are realised, how many despairing hearts will cry, 'Oh, accursed river! our houses are swept away, our fields submerged.' Are not these maledictions just?"