As a matter of fact, Petit-Claud and the Cointets had taken fright at old Séchard’s peasant shrewdness, and got rid of him so much the more easily because it was now vintage time at Marsac. Eve’s letter enclosed another from Lucien:—
“MY DEAR DAVID,—Everything is going well. I am armed cap-à-pie;
to-day I open the campaign, and in forty-eight hours I shall have
made great progress. How glad I shall be to embrace you when you
are free again and my debts are all paid! My mother and sister
persist in mistrusting me; their suspicion wounds me to the quick.
As if I did not know already that you are hiding with Basine, for
every time that Basine comes to the house I hear news of you and
receive answers to my letters; and besides, it is plain that my
sister could not find any one else to trust. It hurts me cruelly
to think that I shall be so near you to-day, and yet that you will
not be present at this banquet in my honor. I owe my little
triumph to the vainglory of Angoulême; in a few days it will be
quite forgotten, and you alone would have taken a real pleasure in
it. But, after all, in a little while you will pardon everything
to one who counts it more than all the triumphs in the world to be
your brother,
“LUCIEN.”
Two forces tugged sharply at David’s heart; he adored his wife; and if he held Lucien in somewhat less esteem, his friendship was scarcely diminished. In solitude our feelings have unrestricted play; and a man preoccupied like David, with all-absorbing thoughts, will give way to impulses for which ordinary life would have provided a sufficient counterpoise. As he read Lucien’s letter to the sound of military music, and heard of this unlooked-for recognition, he was deeply touched by that expression of regret. He had known how it would be. A very slight expression of feeling appeals irresistibly to a sensitive soul, for they are apt to credit others with like depths. How should the drop fall unless the cup were full to the brim?
So at midnight, in spite of all Basine’s entreaties, David must go to see Lucien.
“Nobody will be out in the streets at this time of night,” he said; “I shall not be seen, and they cannot arrest me. Even if I should meet people, I can make use of Kolb’s way of going into hiding. And besides, it is so intolerably long since I saw my wife and child.”
The reasoning was plausible enough; Basine gave way, and David went. Petit-Claud was just taking leave as he came up and at his cry of “Lucien!” the two brothers flung their arms about each other with tears in their eyes.
Life holds not many moments such as these. Lucien’s heart went out in response to this friendship for its own sake. There was never question of debtor and creditor between them, and the offender met with no reproaches save his own. David, generous and noble that he was, was longing to bestow pardon; he meant first of all to read Lucien a lecture, and scatter the clouds that overspread the love of the brother and sister; and with these ends in view, the lack of money and its consequent dangers disappeared entirely from his mind.
“Go home,” said Petit-Claud, addressing his client; “take advantage of your imprudence to see your wife and child again, at any rate; and you must not be seen, mind you!—How unlucky!” he added, when he was alone in the Place du Murier. “If only Cérizet were here——”
The buildings magniloquently styled the Angoulême Law Courts were then in process of construction. Petit-Claud muttered these words to himself as he passed by the hoardings, and heard a tap upon the boards, and a voice issuing from a crack between two planks.
“Here I am,” said Cérizet; “I saw David coming out of L’Houmeau. I was beginning to have my suspicions about his retreat, and now I am sure; and I know where to have him. But I want to know something of Lucien’s plans before I set the snare for David; and here are you sending him into the house! Find some excuse for stopping here, at least, and when David and Lucien come out, send them round this way; they will think they are quite alone, and I shall overhear their good-bye.”