The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 29
CHAPTER VIII
the continuation of the history of isabelle
"After the death of my favourite companion, I had an aversion to the thoughts of all lovers; and although my father had several proposals for me, yet I utterly rejected them, and begged him, as the only means to make me go through life with any tolerable ease, that I might be permitted to spend my time at his villa in solitude and retirement. His fondness for me prevailed on him to comply with my request, and time began to make my late affliction subside. I had besides a dawn of comfort in the company of my brother, who, notwithstanding his youth and being a Frenchman, was of so grave and philosophical a temper, that he, having now finished his studies, like me, preferred the enjoying his own thoughts in ease and quiet to all the gay amusements and noisy pomp which were to be met with in Paris. Though we had never been bred together, yet the present sympathy of our tempers (for I was become as grave, from the late accident which had befallen me, as he was from nature) led us to contract the strictest friendship for each other. All sprightliness was now vanished, and I had no other pleasure but in my brother's indulging me to converse with him on serious subjects: with this amusement I began to be contented, and to find returning ease flow in upon my mind. But this was more than I was long permitted to enjoy; for whilst I was in this situation, one evening, as my father was coming from Paris, he got a fall from his horse, by which accident he bruised his side in such a manner that it threw him into a pleurisy, of which he died. Thus was I only to be cured of the sense of one misery by the birth of another: he had always been to me a most indulgent parent, and the horror I felt at the loss of him rendered me for some time inconsolable; nor do I think anything could have ever made me overcome my grief, but that my brother, now Marquis de Stainville, notwithstanding I am certain he felt the loss equal with me, had greatness of mind enough to enable him to stifle all his own sorrows in order to comfort and support me under mine; till at length I was ashamed to see so much goodness thrown away upon me, and I was resolved (at least in appearance) to shake off my melancholy, that I might no longer be a burden to such a brother. This consideration, and the agreeableness of his conversation, assisted me by degrees to calm my mind, and again brought me back into a state of tranquillity. He often used to entertain me with stories of what had happened to him at school, with his remarks (which were generally very judicious) on them. One evening, as we were talking of friendship, he related to me the following instance of a boy's unusual attachment to him, which I will give you in his own words.
"'When I was at school I contracted a warm friendship with the young Chevalier Dumont: indeed, it was impossible for me to avoid it, for the sympathy of our tempers was so very strong that nature seemed to have pointed us out as companions to each other. It is usual, amongst every number of boys, for each of them to single out some one or other with whom they more particularly converse than with the rest; but we not only loved one another better than all our other schoolfellows, but I verily believe, if we had had our choice throughout the whole world, we neither of us could have met with a friend to whom we could have been so sincerely attached. Notwithstanding our youth, we were both so fond of reading and study, that the boys of gayer disposition used to laugh at us, calling us bookworms, and shun us as unfit for their society: this was the most agreeable thing that could have happened to us, as it gave us an opportunity to enjoy each other's company undisturbed, and to get improvement by continually reading together. In short, we spent our time, till we went to the academy, as pleasantly as I think it possible to do in this world; then all our scenes of pleasure were destroyed by the villainy of a young man (one Monsieur Le Neuf), whose father was so penurious that he would not allow him money enough to be on a footing with the rest of the young gentlemen. This put him on all manner of stratagems to supply his expenses, which as much exceeded the bounds of common discretion as his father's allowance fell short of what was necessary. He soon found out that I had great plenty of money, and therefore resolved some way or other to get an intimacy with me: he affected the same love of learning, and taste for study, with the Chevalier and myself; till at last, by his continual endeavouring to oblige us, we were prevailed on often to admit him into our company. He saw I had no great fondness for money, and was willing to share what I had with my friends; this put it into his head to try if he could make a quarrel between Dumont and me, that he might possess me wholly himself; and you must know, Isabelle, notwithstanding the present calmness that appears in my temper, I am naturally excessively passionate, and I have such a warmth in my disposition that the least suspicion of being ill-used by my friends sets my whole soul in a flame and enrages me to madness. Now the sort of mind in the world best suited for villainy to work its own ends out of is this; happy for me it was that Dumont is of a temper entirely opposite; for though I have experienced his bravery, yet he even fights with the calmness of a philosopher.
"'Le Neuf would often take opportunities to tell stories of false friends; of people who, under the pretence of love, had betrayed and made their own advantage of the undesigning and artless; and would always conclude with some remarks on the folly of people's confiding too strongly in others, unless a long experience had convinced them of their sincerity. We neither of us had the least suspicion of his aim, and, as he had an entertaining manner of telling stories, used to hearken to them with the utmost attention.
"'There was a boy belonging to the academy who had a voice so Uke Dumont's that in another room it was very difficult to distinguish them from each other. Le Neuf one day got this lad into a chamber adjoining to mine, and, when he had given him his lesson, began to talk very loud, and mentioned my name with such an eagerness as gave me a curiosity to hear what they were talking of; but what was my surprise when I heard Dumont (as I then thought) use me with great contempt; swear he would never have had anything to say to such a fool if my command of money had not put it in his power to make a proper use of me. And then endeavoured to inveigle Le Neuf, that they two may join together in order to make me the greater dupe; but said he must still keep up the appearance of generosity and unwillingness to take anything from me, lest I should suspect him. Le Neuf immediately answered that he would not for the world deceive me; but would let me know what a friend I had in Dumont, if it was not for fear that he would have art enough to make him appear only a mischief-maker, and still impose the more on me. But,' continued he, 'I will endeavour all the ways I can to open his eyes, and to let him see the regard you have for him.'
"'I had now heard enough, and was going hastily to break open the door, but found it locked. Le Neuf well knew who it was, and sent the boy out at another door, down a pair of backstairs, and then let me in, The fury of my looks sufficiently declared that I had been witness of all that had passed between him and the fancied Dumont. I stared wildly about the room in hopes to find him, but in vain. Le Neuf was in the highest satisfaction imaginable at this success of his vile scheme; and said that by my actions and manner he was convinced accident had undeceived me with regard to my opinion of Dumont; that indeed he had a long time been thinking of a method to let me know the truth, but was always afraid my fixed love for my friend would have put it in his power to blind my eyes enough to make him appear the only guilty person. "You may remember, sir," continued he, "how much my conversation has turned, ever since I had the pleasure of knowing you, on the great caution that is necessary (if we would preserve our own peace) before we entirely place a confidence in any man. What you have now overheard will prove this to you better than all I could say; but let me add another piece of advice, which is no less proper for you upon this occasion; break off your friendship with Dumont by degrees, without ever telling him the real cause; that would only produce a quarrel between you, which might have bad consequences; and when the subject of it comes to be known in the world, it might bring some disgrace upon you for having been duped by him so long, and give you the air of a bubble. It is therefore much more prudent to let your connection with him quietly drop than to come to any disagreeable and public explanations upon this affair."
"'Thus did this artful villain endeavour to guard against any éclaircissement between me and my friend which might produce a discovery of the trick he had played; and had my temper been cooler he would have succeeded; but I was then quite incapable of attending to any considerations of prudence; and, in the height of my rage, ran downstairs to seek satisfaction of the injured Dumont for the wrongs I falsely imagined he had done me, Upon inquiry I found he was gone out through the garden into a field, the properest place in the world for my present purpose. He was alone, out of either the hearing or sight of any mortal. The moment I came near enough to be heard, I drew my sword, and called on him to defend himself: it was in this instant that Dumont (notwithstanding the surprise he must undoubtedly be in) collected all his resolution, and exerted the highest friendship, to prevent the happening of an accident so fatal as must either have cost me my life or destroyed all my future peace. In short, all the opprobrious language I could give him could not provoke him to draw his sword; but with the warmest entreaties he begged me to put up mine, till we could come to some éclaircissement.
"'I now began to think he added cowardice to treachery, and in my rage had not command enough of myself to forbear adding the name of coward to the rest of my reproaches. Still he bore it all: at last he swore if I would but have patience till he knew what it was that had thrown me into this passion, if he could not clear himself, he would not refuse to fight with me whenever I pleased. My fury being a little abated by these words, I put up my sword, and then told him all I thought I had overheard between him and Le Neuf. It is impossible to describe his amazement at hearing this; I thought there was something so innocent in his looks, that all my former love returned for him, and I began to fancy I had been in a dream: he at length got so far the better of me that I consented to make a stricter inquiry into this affair before we proceeded any further.
"'We walked some time together, but every word Dumont spoke put me so much in mind of that wretch's voice who had deceived me, that I could hardly keep myself from bursting into fresh passions every moment; he perceived it, and kindly bore all my infirmities.
"'As soon as we came home, we called Le Neuf; and the Chevalier asked him what villainy he could have contrived to impose so much on my understanding as to make me believe he had ever mentioned my name but with the greatest respect and friendship. He was too much hardened in his wickedness to recede from what he had begun, and said I was the best judge whether I knew Dumont's voice or no; and then pretended to be in the greatest astonishment that a man could in so short a time deny his own words to the face of the very person to whom he had spoken them. We all three stood looking at one another in great perplexity; and, for my part, I knew not which way to come at the truth. At last Dumont begged me to have patience till the next day, and by that time he did not doubt but he should make everything clear before me; to which, with much persuasion, I at last consented.
"'The Chevalier knew Le Neuf used to go every night to walk in a solitary place, in order, as he supposed, to plot the mischiefs he intended to perpetrate: thither he followed him a little after sunset, and catching hold of him by the collar, swore that moment should be his last unless he confessed who it was that he had bribed to speak in his voice in order to impose upon me. The villain had not the courrage to draw his sword, but, falling down on his knees, confessed the whole, and showed the baseness of his nature no less in begging pardon than he had done in committing the crime. But Dumont refused to forgive him, unless on condition of his going with him to me, and repeating the same confession; to which the mean creature submitted.
"'Think, my Isabelle,' continued my brother, 'what I must feel when I wronged I had wronged the man who was capable of acting in the generous and uncommon manner the Chevalier had done; he saw my confusion, and kindly flew to my relief. "Now," said he, "I hope my dear friend is convinced of my innocence!" and at the same time embracing me, assured me he would impute the violence of my passion to the vehemence of my love, and never mention this accident more.
"'Le Neuf begged we would keep this affair a secret; but that we could not consent to, for the sake of others. We asked him how it was possible that at his age he could think of such villainy for the sake of a little money? to which he replied that he had been from his infancy bred up with a father who had amassed great wealth by never sticking at anything from which he could gain any advantage; and although, indeed, contrary to his father, he loved to spend it, yet he had always laid it down as a maxim that all considerations were to be sacrificed to the getting it.
"'We made him produce the boy he had employed, and he really spoke so like the ChevaUer, we could not distinguish one voice from the other; on which the good-natured Dumont told me I ought not to be angry with myself for not avoiding an imposition which must have deceived all the world. This was generosity, this was being a true friend! for the man who will bear another's frailties, in my opinion, is the only person who deserves that name. Those people who let their pride intervene with their tenderness, enough to make them quarrel with their friends for their mistakes, may sometimes make an appearance of loving another, but in reality they never enter into engagements from any other motive than selfishness; and I think the person who forsakes his friend, only because he is not perfect, is much upon the same footing with one who will be no longer faithful to his friend than while fortune favours him. I have told you this story, sister, only to let you into the character of the man I so deservedly esteem; that, as you are my chief companion, when I talk of him (as I am fond of doing) you may not be an entire stranger to him. I left him at the academy, where I have since written to him, and am surprised I have had no answer. As to Le Neuf, we published his infamy, which obliged him to leave the academy.' Here my brother ceased."
As soon as Isabelle had related thus much of her story, Cynthia desired her to rest herself before she proceeded; and, in the meantime, David could not forbear showing his indignation against Le Neuf, and declaring his approbation of the Marquis de Stainville's sentiments, that nothing but finding some great fault in the heart can ever excuse us for abandoning our friends. The whole company joined in their admiration of the Chevalier Dumont's behaviour; but perceiving that turning the conversation a little on indifferent subjects would be the best means of enabling Isabelle to relate what remained, they endeavoured to amuse her as much as lay in their power; and, as soon as she had a little recovered herself, she went on, as will be seen in the next chapter.