When the chaplain came to see him, the last evening of his short life, Polycarpe related the sad story to the good priest.
"Victor Bourdon," said the abbé gently, as he still knelt by the side of the bed, after having prayed with the dying boy, "Victor Bourdon, I will go to Tours, and find your little sister, and I will place her where she will learn to be a good and industrious girl. I promise you this, my child."
Victor turned his dim eyes toward his consoler, a smile of ineffable content played over his pain-drawn features; then, sighing rather than speaking these last words, "Oh! what a pity to leave the colony so soon!" the young earth-tried spirit passed away.
This death made a lasting impression on Polycarpe. The exclamation, "Oh! what a pity to leave the colony so soon!" was like a revelation to him; all at once he understood all that he had escaped—all the privileges he now enjoyed.
The Father of the family found the poor fellow in tears one day, and, after a few sympathizing questions, drew from him a touching confession of his repentance. He freely acknowledged that his good conduct had hitherto been prompted by pride only; "and if," added he, "I have not run away, "it is only because there are no walls at Mettray."
Singular proof of the innate sentiment of honor that exists in France! Even this ignorant boy felt it to be an unworthy, cowardly act to betray the confidence reposed in him; he considered himself a prisoner on parole, and scorned to take advantage of the liberty granted him.
All his in-door talents did not, however, prevent his working well at the harder labors out of doors. He was great at the plough, and no one groomed a horse better than he. His strongly-built frame, too, became admirably developed by the farm-work and the gymnastic exercises in which all took a part, but in which none excelled as he did. His stout, muscular form, the splendid glow of his cheeks, and perfectly healthful appearance, would have made him remarked anywhere.
He had at first chosen to learn the trade of a baker, as his future means of gaining a living; but his strong physical nature and necessity of movement soon inspired him with, a decided inclination for a military life, and the administration permitted him to revoke his first choice. Marcel had wished to be a gardener; he loved nature, and was passionately fond of flowers, and his desire had been granted.
So the two boys worked hopefully and cheerfully on; one day was a repetition of the other, until Marcel fully understood that higher life which brings its own recompense, and Polycarpe acquired the love of truth and of honest labor.
A year after his admittance into the colony, Polycarpe's name was inscribed on the tablet of honor by the side of Marcel's, which had already long gained its place there. A few months later, he succeeded to his friend as Elder Brother, and, after another interval of exemplary conduct, both lads received as a recompense a sum of money which was placed in the savings bank of the establishment for their future use, and were entitled to wear a corporal's stripe on their sleeve—a high and envied distinction.