It was David, who had seen in his travels through the Alps shelters thus constructed so as to resist the winds and snows of the mountains, who gave the peasants these ideas for the construction of roofs; directing and sharing their work, he was able to apply and utilise a number of facts acquired in his extensive peregrinations.
As the overflow had swept away many mills and the greater part of the ovens belonging to the isolated houses,—these ovens being built outside and projecting from the gable end,—the peasants were compelled to buy bread in the town, at some distance from the houses scattered through the valley. They bought it dearly, since almost a whole day was required to go and return, and time was precious after such a disaster. David had seen the Egyptian nomads crushing corn, after they had moistened it, between two stones, and preparing cakes of it, which they cooked in the hot ashes. He taught this process to the families whose ovens had been destroyed, and they had at least, during the first days, sufficient and comfortable food.
But, in everything, David was admirably seconded by Frederick, and took pains to efface himself so as to attract gratitude toward his pupil, that he might be more and more encouraged in the noble way in which he was walking.
And besides, even when David had neglected this delicate solicitude for his pupil, Frederick displayed such courage, such perseverance, and showed himself so affectionate and so compassionate toward those whose sufferings he and his mother were relieving by every means in their power, that his name was in every mouth and his memory in every heart.
During the fortnight which followed the overflow, every day was employed by Madame Bastien, her son, and David in benevolent work.
When night came they returned home much fatigued, sometimes wet and covered with snow, and each made a toilet whose cleanliness was its only luxury.
Marie Bastien then would return to the library, her magnificent hair beautifully arranged, and according to her custom almost always dressed in a gown of coarse, shaded blue cloth, marvellously fitting her nymph-like figure. The dazzling whiteness of two broad cuffs, and a collar fastened by a little cravat of cherry or orange coloured silk, relieved the dark shade of this gown, which sometimes permitted one to see a beautiful foot, always freshly clad in Scotch thread stockings, white as snow, over which were crossed the silk buskins of a little shoe made of reddish brown leather.
This active life passed continually in the open air, the cheerfulness of spirit, the gaiety of heart, the habitual expression of charitable sentiments, the serenity of soul, had not only effaced from the lovely features of Marie Bastien the last trace of past suffering, but, like certain flowers, which, after having languished somewhat, often revive to greater freshness, the beauty of Marie became dazzling, and David frequently forgot himself as he contemplated it in silent adoration.
The same causes produced the same results in Frederick; he was more charming than ever, in youth, vigour, and grace.
Marie, her son, and David were accustomed to assemble in the library after these long days of active and courageous devotion, in order to talk over the events of the morning while waiting for dinner, to which they cheerfully did honour, without reflecting that the modest silver had been replaced by a brilliant imitation. After the repast, they went to visit a workroom, where Marie joined several women who were employed to prepare linen and clothing. This economy enabled her to double her gifts. This last duty accomplished, they returned to spend the long winter evenings in the library around a glowing fireside, while the bitter north wind whistled out of doors.