As Victor and I were his confidential friends, he kept us informed of all his proceedings, and, I may safely say, even of his thoughts. It is therefore easy for me to retrace the story of his love, which I will do without any exaggeration.
But first, let us return to his charitable projects, and the way in which he executed them. Louis was not merely an engineer in Mr. Smithson’s establishment, but a Christian, and all the more zealous because he was anxious to expiate his past errors. He knew by experience to what an abyss the passions lead, and was desirous of warning others. If he had been a man of ordinary mind and heart, he would no doubt have been animated by entirely different motives. After his ruin, and rescue from a watery grave, desirous of regaining not only his father’s esteem, but that of the world, he might have chosen the very position he now occupied, but he would have taken care to live as easily as possible. He would perhaps have sought to win Eugénie’s affections, and in the end would have thought only of her and labored for her alone. Such a life would not be worth relating. The lives of ordinary men are as unworthy of interest as the egotism that is the mainspring of their actions.
Louis’ life was a very different one. That is why I am desirous of making it known. But do not suppose his nature was thus transformed in an instant. God did not work one of those miracles that consist in the complete, instantaneous change of a man’s character. Our faults veil our better qualities, but do not suppress them; so a return to piety gives them new brilliancy, but does not create them. Louis, as I afterwards learned, had in his youth manifested uncommon elevation and purity of mind, and the piety of a saint. After his arrival at manhood, deprived of his mother’s influence, and led away by his passions, he placed no bounds to his follies. But suddenly arrested in the midst of his disorderly career, providentially saved at the very moment of being for ever lost, he at once broke loose from his pernicious habits. Like a traveller who returns to the right path after going astray for awhile, he resumed his course in the way of perfection with as much ardor as if he had never left it. There was only one reproach to be made against him at the onset. With his earnest nature and tendency to extremes, he manifested too openly the interior operations of grace. The difference between the young exquisite whom everybody knew, and the new convert observed of all eyes, was rather too marked. Louis’ serious and somewhat stern air, his austere look, and his habitual reserve, repelled those who had no faith in his entire conversion. Thence arose backbitings, suspicions, and accusations of hypocrisy which did not come to our poor friend’s ears, but were the cause of more than one annoyance. I must, however, acknowledge, to Mr. Smithson’s credit, that he showed a great deal of charity for Louis at that time. If he sometimes accused him of undue zeal, he was from the first disposed to believe it sincere.
I will briefly relate what Louis accomplished during the few weeks subsequent to his last conversation with Victor. My husband had advised him not to undertake anything till he had consulted Mr. Smithson. Louis followed his advice, and begged an interview with his employer. It was then in the month of June. The conversation took place without witnesses, in the open air, on a fine summer evening. I give it as related by Louis.
“Monsieur,” said he, “I am aware of your interest in benevolent objects. The workmen you employ, and whom I superintend under your orders, are not in your eyes mere instruments for the increase of wealth, but men to whom you wish to be as useful as circumstances will allow.”
Mr. Smithson was never lavish of his words. He made a sign of assent, and appeared pleased with what was said.
Louis continued: “I also am desirous of being useful to my fellow-men. I have done many foolish things, and would like to preserve others from similar mistakes, for the consequences are often fatal. With your permission, I will not content myself with aiding you in the management of the mill, but beg the honor of being associated, in proportion to my ability, with all the good you are desirous of doing.”
“Monsieur,” said Mr. Smithson, “your unexpected offer somewhat embarrasses me. I am quite ready to accede to your wishes, but could not, in truth, consider you my co-laborer. What I have hitherto done has been but little, but I know not what else to do. I assist the needy, and give good advice here and there; that is all. You can follow my example. I shall be glad. Is that what you wish? Or do you happen to have anything better and more extensive to propose? If so, go on. I am ready to hear it.”
“Yes, monsieur; I have some other plans to suggest.”
“State them without any hesitation. I only hope they are of a nature to second my views. The first condition for that is, to propose only what is simple and practical. Doubtless too great an effort cannot be made at this time to aid and improve our workmen, both for their own interest and for ours. Everything is dear. The country is in a ferment. Among those we employ, there are a number of turbulent fellows and many wretchedly poor.”