"Beyond all doubt," I answered. "So sure am I, and so sure have I been, that such is the case, that, only yesterday, I contemplated bringing him to the middle of that bridge and throwing him over into the river, after giving him fair warning of my intention."
"My son!" exclaimed the Confessor, recoiling with a look of involuntary horror; but, the moment after, he recovered himself, cast his eyes down upon the ground, and muttered a short prayer.
"Of course," I added, seeing the surprise painted on his countenance, "I did not propose to do so without giving him every fair equality. You did not suppose, I trust, father, that I would take him by surprise?"
"God forbid, my son, that you should do such an act at all," replied the Confessor: "the time will come when you will think better."
He said nothing more upon that subject, however, governing his own feelings with wonderful control; but, from that day forward, I seldom failed to meet with Father Ferdinand in some part of my morning's walk; and I saw that the words I had spoken with regard to Gaspard de Belleville had never been forgotten. Gently and cautiously, but firmly and perseveringly, he applied himself to change opinions and prejudices which my early habits had rendered almost a part of my nature. At first he would take an opportunity of descanting generally upon the value of human life, as the most precious gift of God; and, at various times, he put it in a thousand different points of view; each tending to show that it was an inestimable gift, which no creature had a right to take from another, except in those cases which God himself had pointed out. Now, he represented it as the space allotted to a sinner for repentance; now, as the means of conferring benefits on others,--rearing and supporting a family,--and doing the will of the Almighty. Now, he showed it as the crowning and especial gift of God--a thing alike beyond man's comprehension and his efforts, which he could, indeed, take away, but which he could never restore. Now, he would display the horrors that would oppress that man, who, on a supposed injury, had taken the life of another, if ever he were to discover that his passion or his judgment had deceived him, and that no injury had really been done, or that it had been attributed to an innocent person. Now, he would carry his view beyond this world, and represent the agony that the murderer's soul must suffer, when, in addition to the weight of the crime itself, he felt loaded with all the unrepented sins which his hand had prevented his victim from atoning upon earth. Then, again, he would return and awaken every human sympathy; display the sweet ties broken, the dear hopes destroyed, the noble careers cut short, by such deeds: he would represent loves and affections that we know not of, bright but secret aspirations, joys and good deeds concealed from every eye, ended for ever, as the punishment of some trifling fault or idle folly; and, in the end, when he found that all my prejudices were shaken, he addressed himself direct to my own heart, with such powerful and eloquent exhortation, that thenceforth I mingled with the world with very different feelings in regard to the relationship between man and man.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
In speaking of Father Ferdinand, I have compressed into one view the effect which was produced upon my mind by many long interviews with him. These took place, as I have said, almost every morning; but in the meanwhile several events occurred to which I must now turn. A slight variation in our dull and somewhat painful course of life was afforded, about this time, both to good Jerome Laborde and myself, by the coming of Jacques Marlot and his bride to my house at Juvigny, and by the preparations which preceded his arrival. In these preparations, indeed, I did not share; but almost every day I perceived that good Jerome continued to absent himself from his duties at the château for a sufficient space of time to run down, through the park, to Juvigny; and many a time did I meet him with gleesome satisfaction depicted on his countenance, returning from his expedition to his nephew's new dwelling.
As soon as I had learned that my friend Socrates had brought home his Xantippe, and was fairly in possession of his new abode, I asked the Duke permission to absent myself for an hour or two, and sallied forth to make him a visit of congratulation. I found him gazing forth from his door, with pleasure and content at the prospect around him, having the farm which he was to cultivate for the good Ursulines just on the opposite side of the river, the convent itself within a quarter of a mile; and a little stone bridge, at half that distance, to render it easily accessible.
Madame la mariée was within, aided by a bustling big-nosed Bretonne servante, arranging the household gods; and Jacques Marlot himself had thus an opportunity, without any sacrifice of dignity in the eyes of his bride, to pour forth his joy and gratitude to John Marston Hall.
As he somewhat belaboured me with thanks for all sort of kindnesses, past, present, and to come, I cut him as short as I could, by demanding impatiently to see the bride.