The Difficult Duty, p. 148.
The young man was like one dead, but Paul, who had saved many persons from a watery grave, knew what were the means to be adopted in order to restore him to life. He carried him to the foot of a large tree, the dense foliage of which sheltered them from the rain, and rendered him every assistance which the circumstances permitted. He succeeded in restoring him in some degree, and the moment he heard him breathe, he placed him on his shoulders, and bore him with all possible speed to his own house, where, by dint of care, the young man completely recovered his senses. He was about seventeen years of age, and seemed wasted away by want and illness. As soon as he was able to speak, Paul asked him what had induced him to throw himself into the river. The young man, who was named André, replied that it was want and despair. He stated, that twelve years before, his father, who was a travelling blacksmith, had been drowned by accident, as it was supposed, in that same river, his body having been discovered there some days after. Paul shuddered while he listened to this recital, but said nothing. André went on to state that up to the age of ten, he had lived with his mother, who provided for him as well as she could by her labour, but that, having lost her, he endeavoured to gain a living for himself by working whenever he could find employment. Sometimes at the harvest, sometimes at the barns, sometimes in assisting the masons; that he had endured great hardships, and often wanted food; that, at last, he had fallen ill, and on leaving the hospital, while still convalescent, having neither home, nor money, nor employment, he had been obliged to sleep in the fields, and to pass two whole days without food, so that he felt completely exhausted; that finally, towards the close of the second day, happening to be upon the bridge, from which it was said that his father had fallen, and, feeling unable to proceed farther, and impelled by despair, he had thrown himself into the water. While listening to this recital, Paul mentally exclaimed, "Since I have saved this man, I might have saved the other also;" but then he thought, "We might both have perished, and then my children would have been as destitute as André." He was greatly rejoiced at having been able to save André, and determined, after this new trial of his strength, never again to fear the water nor the swelling of the river, especially now that he was no longer necessary to his children.
However, he could not carry his good resolutions into effect, for the following day he was seized with a violent fever, accompanied by severe pains in all his limbs. On coming out of the river, intent only on restoring André, he had not been able to dry himself, and, indeed, he had not even thought of doing so; thus the damp clothes he had kept so long about him had brought on an attack of rheumatic gout. For the next two days he grew worse and worse, and his life was despaired of. He had moments of delirium, during which he was tormented by anxiety for his children, but when his senses returned he remembered that they were well provided for, and appeared truly happy. Notwithstanding his sufferings, André, who gradually regained his strength, tended him with the greatest assiduity, and wept beside his bed when he beheld him getting worse. Paul did not die; but he continued subject to pains, which sometimes entirely deprived him of the use of his limbs. "Ah!" he would sometimes exclaim, when a sharp pain shot through an arm or a leg; "if I had become like this before I had provided for my children!" André, whom he had kept with him, and who was intelligent and well-disposed, learned his trade sufficiently to assist him when he was able to work, and to work under his direction when he was ill. The shop continued to prosper, and his business was even increased by the interest taken both in himself and André, and when speaking of André's father, he would say, "Poor fellow! may God receive his soul; but I am sure he has forgiven me, for he has seen that I could not have acted otherwise."
M. de Flaumont ceased, and the children waited for a moment in silence, to see if the story was ended.
"Oh!" said Henry, at length, with a heavy sigh, "I am glad the story has ended thus."
Clementine.—Yes! but think of poor Paul remaining a martyr to rheumatism!
Gustavus.—Most assuredly his good action was not too well rewarded.
M. de Flaumont.—He received such a reward as ought to be expected for a good action—the consciousness of having done well. This is its natural recompense, and this recompense is quite independent of the consequences which may otherwise result from it.
Clementine.—Nevertheless, it is painful to see an honest man suffering from having performed a good action.
M. de Flaumont.—But it would have been far more painful if he had done wrong. Would you have preferred his leaving André to perish?