The good curé, after making these observations mentally, recalled the illustrious men who have illumined the earth from time to time with the rays of their genius, and the traces of whose lives are still visible; but the road to fame has, alas! been sown for centuries with bitter tears, unknown sufferings, and cries of the despair of unrecognized genius. He recalled faces radiant with sublime thoughts, crowned with thorns, the only recompense of their work, and he said with agony, "O God! if this child should ever be one of the victims, if he should ever weep over lost hopes, would it not be better to leave him as he is, simple and natural, ignorant of the delights of a studious life; ignorant of knowledge, than to be initiated into the cruel deceptions of hope long deferred, and which may be finally lost? How often, like a beautiful dream, youth, glory, and mind fade away in the awful struggle. But no," said he, fixing his eyes on the expressive face of Robert, "his future will not be so sad. Too much intelligence burns in his eyes, too much fire is lighted there, to be extinguished by the wearying labors of mind, or by hunger and frightful misery. If this diamond in the rough shows so much brilliancy, what will it not be when it is polished? Then will all its marvellous lustre appear, and I will have the holy joy of aiding to perfect this work." These were his reflections, and so had it always been with him; from the moment he was ordained to his saintly ministry, he was always looking for the means of doing good to others; and was a beautiful religious type of charity and goodness. It was so great a happiness to him to make others happy, that he looked upon his days as badly spent if he had not dried a tear, or given another joy; and his doing good was so sweet a duty, that he passed his days and nights in consoling the unfortunate. But for children especially was he most tenderly solicitous, He said with one who was all love and charity when among men, "Let little children come unto me." Like his divine Master, he drew them to him and pressed them to his heart, his hands rested on their young heads, and he called down upon them celestial benedictions. But he did not stop here. He gave them not only his prayers, but aid and protection. When his purse was exhausted, and his personal resources no longer sufficed, he had recourse to that of others. He was eloquent and persuasive when he pleaded the cause of children, and happy in receiving the offerings which were always deposited in his charitable hands. Thus he was the father of a large family, the benefactor of many children, who, becoming men, repaid his care by unlimited gratitude and irreproachable conduct, and by the constant practice of the virtues of which he had given them so noble an example. Robert found in him a tender and devoted protector, who was interested for him, and in whose future friendship he might trust. The day when this action was registered in heaven, the good man felt a happiness he had never known before in adopting before God the orphan that his friend, the curé of the village of Bains, had recommended to him in such warm terms. The vow which he made himself to protect him, was not like those men usually make, and forget as soon as made.
During the interview between the child and the curé, the old soldier was walking up and down outside, absorbed in reflections of quite an opposite nature. Sometimes hope colored his thoughts; oftener they were sombre and cold, like the clouds of the region to which memory transported him, to the fatal soil of Russia, where victory had abandoned the French flag. An hour was passed by him in recalling these days of sorrow, but at last he grew tired of waiting, and jerked at the bell string, which hung so modestly at the curé's door, most violently. In an instant a servant appeared with harsh words on the end of her tongue, but the severe face and long moustache of Cyprien induced her to withhold from speaking them. Scarcely was the door opened, when a voice, almost of thunder, [{827}] inquired for Robert. Hearing it, the curé opened the parlor door, and advancing toward the soldier, with an affable air, invited him in, saying, "I will be very glad to talk with you. You were, I suppose, uneasy about your little friend, whom I have detained a long time, I know, but it is not time lost; we have become acquainted and are now old friends, and you have a share of the affection I have avowed for this interesting child. You have a noble heart, and the Lord will bless you, my friend, you may be sure of that, for in the midst of your own sufferings you have had compassion on those of others, and above all you have protected an orphan!" The soldier was stunned by this benevolent speech; he, raised his hand mechanically to his forehead, following the curé and muttering the words "Pardon—excuse—do not pay any attention to me." Robert had not dared to move, but when Cyprien came near him, he threw himself into his arms. "There—that will do," said he to him—"pay attention, the curé speaks." "Why did you not come in with Robert? You have denied me the pleasure I should have had in talking with I a brave soldier. Our protégé has spoken of you in most affectionate terms, but he did not tell me you were waiting for him, or I should not have suffered you to remain outside the door." "Thank you, M. Curé, but I cannot talk to you, I have so few words, and have not been accustomed to much, and all I know is how to use 'Arms.'" "Each of us has his profession, my friend," replied the curé, "and you have made yours glorious. Nevertheless you must allow me to think you know a great deal besides." "If that is your idea, kind father, I will not oppose it, but, with respect to you, I must tell you I have not seen a book since I knew, the 'Little Corporal,' and we are old acquaintances. Twenty-five years;" said he, "impossible to forget that"—wiping away a tear.
"Yes, my friend, you have reason to regret your emperor, and even to weep for him, for he was a great man, and loved you all as children."
"But, oh! how was he repaid?" and then he wept again.
"The love you bear your emperor honors you. Respect and devotion to misfortune fills noble souls, and I understand very well how your attachment is augmented in proportion to the sufferings which weigh down your chief; and it is not for me, a minister of peace and charity, to make a crime of your regrets and affection, or to denounce them. But let us leave this sad subject, until you know me better and have more confidence in me. For today we will talk about Robert and my plans for him. I am thankful to you for taking a father's place to him; without you he would have been lost in this great city, or might perhaps have met persons who would have placed him in contact with vice and wickedness. I rejoice that a kind Providence permitted this child to awaken an interest in you, and that he found you so affectionate a guide. You must continue your friendship, and I hope to gain his, by the care I will take of him."
"Oh! my dear father," said Robert, kissing respectfully the hand of his new protector, "you are too good to me, but I will try to repay your kindness by a full and entire submission to your least wishes."
"Well spoken, little one!" exclaimed the soldier, "this is the first duty of a conscript."
"I will try to find the mean s of aiding him to fill a high position some day," said the curé. "I have acquaintances and friends who will give me of their wealth, for," said he, in a tone of regret, "I am far from being rich. But no matter, God will help us; I have this sweet certainty, so you may take courage, my little friend, and whatever taste you may have for study, I promise you I will do all that I can to advance you. You are in such good hands that I shall have no cause for uneasiness as to how you pass your time; and I will leave you for a while, [{828}] and perhaps I may bring back some good news for you."
After calling at several houses without success, he chanced to see a wealthy widow who had but one child, a son. This boy was of a most vicious nature, and although young in years, he had every defect of character, without a single good quality. He made his poor mother despair, and she often reproached herself bitterly for her weakness toward him, but she knew no means that would reform his bad habits, which assumed the form of fatal and violent passion. When the curé spoke of Robert, she said: "O God! since he is possessed of so many amiable and virtuous qualities, entrust him to me. He will be treated as my own child, will share the studies of Gustave, and have the same masters; and perhaps God may pity a mother's sorrows, and that this child may have so good an influence over him, that Gustave may feel a desire to be good also. I pray you do not refuse me," said the mother in a supplicating tone; "I cling to this last hope, as a ship-wrecked man would cling to the plank he hopes will save him from perishing."
After long consideration of the chances of happiness and success in the future if Robert accepted it—of the great dissimilarity of the two persons who would thus be thrown together, and the disagreements and sufferings for Robert; and still worse, if the pure, rich nature of the orphan should be corrupted in the society of the wicked child, whom he knew only too well—he was still undecided. But an irresistible, though secret, argument spoke in favor of the mother of Gustave; so that at last her pressing solicitations were acceded to. He reserved for himself the right to watch closely over the precious trust that Providence had confided to him, and after this it was agreed that Robert should be presented to Madame de Vernanges (this was the name of Gustave's mother) as soon as he could be informed of it, and if he was willing to accept it.