“‘Monsieur, there are some who do good out of love of being useful: to such I belong. There are others who do it from motives of self-love and interest: you may know of some.... You have instituted this school; you direct it in your own way; you wish to be the sole master. What your reason is for all this I do not know, but I can certify one thing: you wish to have your workmen to yourself. It is not my practice to intrude anywhere, even when I have a perfect right. Consequently I withdraw.’
“I stopped him to ask what motive of interest I could have.
“‘O monsieur!’ said he, ‘the name of a philanthropist is not to be despised. It leads to many things. You know better than I what use you wish to make of it; it is not for me to tell you. It remains to be seen if you succeed.’
“He evidently wished to insinuate that I had taken this indirect way of gaining the esteem of the Smithson family, and perhaps Eugénie’s affections. I felt my anger rise. I was about to reply in a way I should have regretted, but he prevented it by going out without giving me an opportunity.
“At first, I congratulated myself on my victory. I am ashamed to say that my pride, which I thought I had conquered, again reappeared in my heart. ‘He is afraid of me!’ I said to myself. ‘He feels my superiority, and has gone away through mortification.’ Subsequent reflection convinced me of my mistake. Albert, in withdrawing, was not vanquished, but really the conqueror. He had successfully achieved his perfidious design. He was tired of the school, and felt he should soon cut a sorry figure in it. He sought the means of getting out of it, which I unwittingly furnished him, so that his very retreat could be used as a plea against me. All my subsequent observations have confirmed my suspicions. I have not met him since, but I can see he has been secretly plotting against me. Mr. Smithson is colder than ever towards me. As to Mlle. Eugénie, I have met her only once, walking with Albert. She saw me, and might have spoken, but pretended not to observe me.... Ah! my dear friend, I am, I confess, down-hearted. For days, I have seen that my course and my principles excite Mr. Smithson’s suspicions, but I had some reason to believe I was no longer indifferent to his daughter. Now she herself has turned, or rather, has been turned, against me. In a month, she will no longer be able to endure me.... What shall I do?”
“Keep straight on: continue the work you have begun. If an opportunity occurs for explanation either with the father or daughter, convince them that you are an honest man.”
Our poor friend was very gloomy when he left us. We participated in his sadness, for we did not doubt but this cousin, who had come so inopportunely, was slyly doing him some ill-turn. We were not wrong in thinking so. I will relate what had taken place.
As Louis rightly conjectured, Albert had willingly allowed himself to be excluded from the school. He immediately presented himself in the salon with an air of discouragement, but triumphing in the bottom of his heart.
“You have returned early this evening,” said Eugénie. “Are you tired of the school already?”
“I am not tired of it, but they can no longer endure me there.”