She nevertheless completely refrained from discovering to her dear Michel the slightest shadow of her uneasiness regarding the future of them both. Anyone who heard her singing whilst plying her needle, or who had witnessed how, after having placed upon the table a savory repast, she cried, "Michel, your dinner is ready," would pronounce her to be a happy lass. However, at night, Madeleine was no sooner on her bed, and aware, by his loud snoring, that her brother was soundly sleeping, than a crowd of sad thoughts would arise to besiege her mind. When a delay in the payment of her earnings produced some difficulties, eight days of sickness brought a fearful aggravation of her misery. Moreover, she was becoming aged, being only two years younger than Michel, who was entering on his fiftieth year. Already her sight was weakened, and soon she might be unable to sew, even with the aid of glasses. In vain did poor Madeleine strive to dispel thoughts so dark, so afflicting. More than once did the rising sun irradiate her chamber, and recall her to work without her eyes having been closed by sleep.
On his part, Michel Perrin, notwithstanding the efforts of his sister to conceal the result of his residence with her, was not slow in discovering the sad truth. From that time he had not ceased to form plans to effect the earning on his own part of even a few pence; but Madeleine repelled every suggestion which appeared to her as tending to lessen the dignity of the reverend pastor. Only one project had received her assent. She agreed to see her brother, whose studies had been refined and extensive, giving lessons in Greek and Latin, so that no person could have a son or nephew without being besought by her to make the boy learn the dead languages, and to choose Michel Perrin as his master; but whether the people of Dijon made little of those old acquirements, or that the learning of a village pastor did not inspire them with sufficient confidence, Madeleine addressed herself in vain to her friends or employers to give the smallest pupil to her brother, at even the smallest price. "He is still very clever," the poor woman would say, when she tried one of her vain efforts; "I wish you would come and see us. He never reads anything but Latin or Greek, except when he is at his breviary. If that does not convince you of his capability, I can say no more." She derived from all her applications only deep sighs without even shallow hopes.
It was true that the worthy pastor had no other amusement whatsoever than repeated perusals of Homer and Tacitus, which he had managed to save from the wreck of his scanty chattels. They constituted his whole library. Leading a life completely retired, when the weather precluded him from taking a solitary ramble, he passed his time in reading, praying, or chatting with his sister, whose voice was almost the only one by which he had been accosted during the past twelve months; consequently, although his affection for Madeleine had been always very great, it had become so intense as to make him regard another separation from her as the most deplorable of all his misfortunes. It was therefore in a miserable state of mind that he awaited Madeleine's return, each time that she left home in a renewed hope of procuring him pupils. For a considerable time he had refrained from asking her the question too often followed by the reply of disappointment. It was enough for her to give him a silent embrace, and that after she had thrown her shawl upon the bed, she betook herself at once to her work, for him to form the determination of leaving; and the sale of her watch, to which she attached peculiar value, confirmed his resolution.
He had decided on the following week as the time for a separation too afflicting, when one morning Madeleine returned, her countenance indicating that her mind was engrossed by some recent and unusual subject. Michel Perrin, absorbed in his reflections, did not at first observe her serious features. She was seated and working near the window, whilst the pastor, with an open book lying on his knees, was racking his mind as to how he could obtain the means of sustaining life when he would quit his sole remaining asylum.
"What a misfortune that Paris is so far off," said Madeleine several times, without perceiving perhaps that she was speaking aloud.
At the fourth or fifth repetition of this expression, Michel raised his head—"Why so, my dear sister?" said he; "wherefore do you wish Paris to be nearer?"
"Ah! wherefore? It would take too much of your time to listen to me, my dear brother, and you are reading your breviary, I believe."
"Tell me fully the reasons for your wish," replied the pastor, laying his book upon the table.
"It is because I have chanced to hear a matter so astonishing, so surprising. It must be admitted that some people are extremely lucky."
"We cannot be considered so," said Michel, as he breathed a heavy sigh.