A VILLAIN.
Albert called at Louis’ office about ten o’clock the next morning. This office was in the centre of the manufactory, between two large rooms always filled with workmen. Here Louis was confined ten long hours a day. If he went out from time to time, it was first to one place, and then to another, to keep an eye on everything, and remedy any slight accident that might have occurred. He everywhere replaced Mr. Smithson. He saw to everything, and gave orders about everything, and acquitted himself of these duties with an ability and zeal that his employer could not help acknowledging. He could not have wished for an assistant more capable, more energetic, or more reliable. Had it not been for one suspicion in this cold Protestant’s breast, one cause of antipathy against this overzealous Catholic, Mr. Smithson would not only have esteemed Louis, but would have taken him to his heart. As it was, he contented himself with merely esteeming him, and this against his will.
The workmen were divided into two parties with respect to Louis. The good, who were the least numerous—alas! it is so everywhere: the majority are on the wrong side—were absolutely devoted to him. The bad feared him. They knew he was inflexible when there was any question of their morals or the rules of the establishment. Louis would not tolerate drunkenness, or blasphemy, or any improper talk. The fear he excited among the bad made him extremely hated by a few.
When Albert entered the engineer’s office, the latter went forward to meet him with the ease of a man of the world receiving a visit, and with the reserve of a diplomatist who finds himself in the presence of an adversary. From the very moment these two men first saw each other, they felt they were opponents. Each one had a position to defend which the other sought for, and both were conscious of it. Before the Parisian uttered a word, Louis divined what was passing in his heart. “He has come to drive me away and marry his cousin,” thought he. “If Providence favors his plans, I shall submit. But it was God who brought me hither. I do not think I am mistaken in believing he has given me a work to do here, and I shall not leave till I clearly see I ought to give it up and go away.”
Albert had to introduce himself. “I am Mr. Smithson’s nephew,” said he, “a licentiate of the law, and an advocate at the Paris bar. My relatives have for a long time urged me to visit them, and I have profited by an interval of leisure to accept their invitation. I am aware, monsieur, of the important rôle you fill in the house, and what a useful man you are, and am desirous of making your acquaintance. Besides, I have need of your services.”
“If I can be of any service whatever to you, monsieur, I assure you it will give me great pleasure to serve you.”
“My charming cousin Eugénie tells me, monsieur, that you are engaged in things I am likewise interested in—the relief of the poor and the instruction of the ignorant around you. Eugénie has even given me to understand that she is your assistant in this work.”
Albert kept his eyes fastened on Louis’ face as he uttered these words. He thought he would betray his feelings at such a greeting—at the mere name of Eugénie. But Louis’ countenance remained impenetrable as usual. Albert felt he had before him either a very indifferent or a very shrewd man.
“I am glad to learn, monsieur,” replied Louis, “that you take an interest, as well as I, in these Christian labors, which in these times are more necessary than ever. Poverty and immorality are making great ravages. But I should remark that I am a mere novice in such matters. As Mlle. Eugénie has been so kind as to speak of me, she may have told you how little I have yet accomplished. And what I have done has only been through Mr. Smithson’s constant aid. You wish, monsieur, to be initiated into my undertakings. That will be very easy! I will show you our library, scarcely established, and our evening-school: that is all.”
“You must also introduce me to your poor. I am seriously disposed to make a practical study of the great questions of charity and instruction. They are quite the order of the day. When can I meet you?...”