He was probably gone to Juvigny, old Marguerite, who had been helping me in the library, observed; for when last he had been there with Father Ferdinand, she said, the boy had never been absent from that place. Indeed, he seemed as fond of that fellow Jacques Marlot, as if he were his own father--he might be so too, she added, for aught that ever she could discover. But the boy was a pretty boy, too, and not like that ugly cock-nosed scapegrace.
In despite of all my gloom, the spite of the old woman towards my poor acquaintance, Jacques Marlot, made me smile for a moment; and taking my hat, I ordered my horses to be ready in an hour, and walked out to the banks of the stream, in order to see whether the second occupation which I had laid out for myself would be attended with more success than the first. But my walk was in every respect a melancholy one, as, indeed, I might well have anticipated, had I allowed myself to judge as rationally of my own feelings and their associations as I should have done had the case been that of another. My first halt was at the spot where I had rescued poor Laura from the fatal stream that afterwards swept away her unhappy mother; and as I stood and gazed upon the river, I could not but think how much misery would have been saved us, had the dull and sullen water that rolled deep and dark before me taken us both for ever to its silent bosom. Memory, too, exerted all her power, and I could see before the mind's eye the dear girl I loved, in all the smiling happiness of infant joy, ran bounding on to meet me, as she had appeared the moment before she fell into the stream. I recalled, too, as vividly as if it had just passed, the heartfelt gladness with which I had grasped her fairy form in the midst of the waters, and the sort of triumphant joy with which I had held her up rescued towards those who watched us from the brink. I remembered it all as if it had been a thing of yesterday; but I remembered, at the same moment, my existing situation; and the bitter comment of the present on the past poured like a torrent upon my heart, and almost drowned out hope for ever.
I turned away, for in the state of my feelings I would rather have rested in spots, the associations of which were painful in themselves, than in those where happy memories formed a dreadful contrast with present misery. I turned away, then, and walked slowly on to the broken bridge, which remained still unrepaired, and was exactly in the state in which it had been left on the night of Madame de Villardin's death, except that a quantity of green mould, and many coloured lichens, had grown over the broken woodwork, telling how many years had past since the fall of the rest had taken place. Grief, however, finds matter to increase its own stores in everything; and when I thought of Madame de Villardin's unhappy fate, of her affection for her husband so terribly repaid, of his love for her proving a source of the bitterest anguish to himself, and of all the fearful scenes which I had witnessed and in which I had taken a part, I began to think--without feeling my own unhappiness relieved in the least by the belief--I began to think that the whole world, and every state and station in it, were full of misery to the overflowing--that each feeling, virtuous or vicious, was alike prolific of sorrow--and that the only happy being on the earth was the stoic or the anchorite, the pure egotist or the mindless fool.
If I went out gloomy, I returned home more gloomy still, and, mounting my horse, which was by this time prepared, I rode back to Juvigny, and entered the house which I had lent to Jacques Marlot. The good farmer was out, but Madame Marlot, who now presented the very best possible image of a bonne fermière, adorned with fine white muslin, a profusion of lace, and manifold gold ornaments, received me at the gate, and gave me ocular proof of her husband's increasing prosperity. My visit had evidently been expected, and on inquiring for my little page, I was informed that he had been there since an early hour in the morning, but had gone out upon his rounds with Jacques Marlot, who would return with him directly.
The ci-devant printer was not long in making his appearance, and T soon found from his manner that little Clement had informed him that some events had lately occurred to render my mind not attuned to the pleasantries with which he was wont to treat me. He was consequently grave and calm, and though an occasional little drop of acid humour would mix with what he said, yet our conversation passed much as a matter of business; and highly approving of my intention of making improvements, he went over my two farms with me, pointing out all that he thought might be done. We thus planned a new road, and a number of plantations, and having provided employment for myself for several days in inspecting the progress of the workmen, I returned to Dumont, feeling that at all events I had found an occupation which would distract some of my thoughts from the more painful theme.
Day after day I returned to Juvigny, and carrying on several operations at one time, I had an opportunity of diversifying my amusement; thus waging a sort of incessant war against thought. As soon as I found that painful ideas were obtruding upon me, I changed my place at once, and went to the workmen engaged in some other undertaking; and, thanks to their blessed stupidity, I always discovered some matter to set right or some mistake to rectify. Thus passed my days for more than a fortnight, and though the long dull evenings were still terrible, yet the occupation of my thoughts during the hours of light was in itself a great relief. My little page, wild as the winds, left me almost entirely to myself, and although it had been a part of my plan to fill up my vacant time by pursuing the task of his education, yet my mind was not equal to it; and I soon found that I could not bend my thoughts to the subject with sufficient application, to do him any good or myself either. Thus from nightfall to midnight my hours were generally spent in walking up and down the great library, sometimes forcing myself to read for a few minutes, but generally giving full course to the thoughts which I contrived to avoid, more or less, during the day.
At length, however, a messenger arrived from the Prés Vallée, bringing me letters, which again rendered every effort to occupy my mind perfectly vain. The first was from Monsieur de Villardin, and was full of the kindest and most affectionate language; but it went on to inform me that the Count de Laval had arrived at the château, and that his marriage was fixed for that day week. Feeling it necessary to inform me of the fact, and yet knowing that every word upon the subject was a dagger in my heart, Monsieur de Villardin wrote as briefly upon it as possible, simply telling me the bare facts, and then adding, "Laura is calm."
The next was a letter from Father Ferdinand, but it was more full, more interesting, and yet more painful. I give it, therefore, as it was, so far at least as translation can render it.
"My dear Son,
"Although Monsieur de Villardin has written to you himself, I feel it necessary to address you also as one who loves you sincerely, and whose wishes are all for your future welfare and happiness. In the first place, however, let me say, that although I doubt not you may think I outstepped my duty, and interfered, perhaps cruelly, in informing the Duke of the mutual affection which existed between Laura and yourself, yet I had an undoubted right to do so, founded on circumstances which you do not know, but which shall one day be explained to you. In other respects, some words that I once let drop, which might tend to encourage your passion, still rest upon my conscience; but my error in having spoken them is attributable in some degree to Monsieur de Villardin himself, who did not inform me, as he ought to have done at an earlier period, that he had promised the hand of his daughter to another.