The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 30
CHAPTER IX
the continuation of the history of isabelle
"After my brother had told me this story, his favourite subject of conversation was the Chevalier Dumont; but this lasted not long before the accidental sight of a young lady at a neighbour's house turned all his thoughts another way: her name was Dorimene, daughter to the Count de ———. As the Marquis de Stainville never concealed anything from me, he immediately told me the admiration Dorimene had inspired him with; his whole soul was so filled with her idea, he could neither think nor talk of anything else. She was to stay some time with the gentleman's lady where my brother saw her; and, as I had a small acquaintance with her, at his request I went to wait on her, in order to get an opportunity to invite Dorimene to our house. I was a little surprised at the great and sudden effect her charms had had on my brother; but at the first sight of her all my wonder vanished; for the elegant turn of her whole person, joined to the regular beauties of her face, would rather have made it a matter of astonishment if a man of my brother's age could have seen her without being in love with her. In short, a very little conversation with her quite overcame him, and he thought of nothing but marrying her.
"The Marquis de Stainville was in the possession of so large a fortune, that he was a match for Dorimene which there was no danger of her friends refusing; and the gentleman with whom she then was being very intimate with her father, immediately wrote him word of the particular notice my brother took of his daughter. On the receipt of this letter the Count de ——— came to his friend's house, under the pretence of fetching Dorimene home, but in reality with a design of concluding the match between her and my brother. She was very young, had never had any other engagement; and, as the custom in France makes most ladies think a married life most agreeable, she implicitly obeyed her father.
"The Marquis de Stainville's passion for her was so violent that it could not bear any delay. In a month's time they were married, with the consent of all parties; and, in the possession of Dorimene, my brother's happiness was complete; nor did he know a wish beyond it. On her request I continued to live with them, and we spent our time very agreeably; for Dorimene was really an amiable companion; she was not of a temper to be ruffled with trifles, and as to the generality of things, was very indifferent which way they went. I never saw her but once in a passion, but then indeed she perfectly frightened me; for she was quite furious, and her mind was agitated with much more violence than those which are easily put into disorder can ever be. My brother doted on her to distraction: the least intimation of any inclination of hers was enough to make him fly to obey her; at her desire we spent a few months in the winter at Paris, but then she gave no further into the gaieties of that place than her husband approved of.
"The Count de ——— had a small villa about six leagues from Paris, which was as pleasantly situated as any in France; in this place my brother took a fancy to spend the next summer after he was married. In a little while after we had been there, as my sister and I were sitting one day in a grotto at the end of the parterre, we saw the Marquis de Stainville and another gentleman coming towards us; we rose up to meet them, and as soon as we were near enough to join companies, my brother took the gentleman by the hand, and presented him to us under the name of the Chevalier Dumont. Dorimene and I (for she had also heard his history) were both rejoiced at thus meeting with the man my brother had given us so advantageous a character of. She politely said that nothing could be more welcome to her than the Marquis de Stainville's friend. We walked some time in the garden; but my brother, observing the Chevalier grow faint, proposed the going in; saying that as he was but just recovered of a fit of sickness, it would be advisable for him to be in the house. And, indeed, he looked so pale and thin, that it was rather wonderful how it was possible for him to bear being out of his bed, and that rest would be necessary for him. He was in so weak a state of health that we spent two or three days together before the Marquis would ask him any particulars; but as soon as he thought he had gained strength enough to enable him to relate all that had happened to him, from the time of their separation, the marquis eagerly desired Dumont not to let him remain in ignorance of whatever had befallen so dear a friend during that interval; which request both my sister and I earnestly joined in, and the Chevaher obligingly began as follows—
"'The dey, sir, after you left the academy, when I was in the height of my melancholy for your loss, to complete my affliction I received a letter from my mother, that my father was taken very ill, and desired me to hasten home, as I valued ever seeing him again. I did not delay a moment obeying his commands; but immediately took horse, and rode with full speed till I reached his villa; he was yet alive, but so near his end that it was with difficulty he uttered his words. The moment I entered his chamber, and he was told by his fond and afflicted wife that I was there to attend his commands, he raised himself up in his bed, and seemed to keep life in him by force, in order to give me his last blessing. He then desired to be left some few minutes with me alone; and as I approached his bedside, he took me by the hand, and sighing said, "Oh, my son! I have ruined you and the best of wives at once: you know the long and faithful friendship I have had for Monsieur ———, and the great obligations I owe him. After you were separated from me in order to follow your studies, he married a young and beautiful lady, whom he was so fond of he could deny her nothing. She was one of those gay ladies who never thought herself so happy as when she was lavishing her husband's fortune on her own extravagance; by this means she soon brought him into the most distressed state imaginable; he had a growing family, and no means of supporting them. I could not bear to see his misery, and presently relieved it: I did this once or twice; but he had so much generosity, and so strong a resolution, that he absolutely refused to drag me down to ruin and perdition with him. He obstinately persisted in what he thought right, and I, on the other hand, was fully bent never to let him sink without sharing his misfortunes. In short, I by degrees underhand sold almost everything I was worth, and conveyed it to him in such a manner that he never knew from whom it came. If God had been pleased to have spared my life, I intended to have got you a post in the army, and had a scheme in my head which I thought could not fail to have made some provision for your mother; but it is now at an end, my strength fails me, and I can do no more. Farewell for ever!As you are young, if you can make any struggle in the world, cherish and take care of my wife!" At these words he ceased speaking, and breathed his last in my arms.'
"At this description, Dorimene and I both burst into tears, in spite of our utmost endeavours to prevent it; which stopped the Chevalier Dumont's narration for a few minutes, when, on our earnest treaties, he thus proceeded:—
"'I see I need not explain to these ladies what felt on this dreadful occasion; they seem too sensible of the miseries that attend human kind, not to imagine it all without my assistance; nor will I shock the tenderness of any of this company with the repetition of my mother's grief; but shall only say great as the softest heart could feel on the loss of a husband whom she had lived with and tenderly loved for thirty years together. Perhaps, as my father had a family, he may be thought blamable for such a conduct; but, for my part, notwithstanding I am the sufferer, I shall always honour his memory the more for it, when I reflect that I have often heard him say, that to the gentleman's father (for whom he at last ruined himself) he owed all that he had in the world.
"'I was afraid of revealing to my mother what my father had told me, and delayed it some time, for no other reason but from want of resolution to add to the load of afflictions she was already burdened with: at last necessity forced me to undertake the task, however uneasy it was to me; for the person who had bought the house we were then in of my father was to enter upon it the next week. I really believe the uneasiness the poor man suffered on that account, and chiefly for his wife's sake, hastened his death. When I disclosed to my mother the present situation of our affairs, instead of burdening me with complaints and lamentations, she at first showed a perfect indifference, and said, as she had lost her only comfort in losing my father, she cared very little what became of her; but then looking at me with an air of the greatest tenderness, she sighed, and said, "Why did I bring into the world a creature with your generous sentiments? who, after being educated like a gentleman, must be thrown on the wide world without any means of supporting that station in life!" She saw how much her discourse affected me, and therefore said no more.
"'As soon as I had time to reflect by myself on the present condition of my affairs, I began seriously to consider what I should do; for I was resolved in some shape or other to support my mother. My thoughts immediately turned on you, my dear Marquis de Stainville, and I made no doubt but in your friendship I should meet with an asylum from all my cares and afflictions. I then wrote the letter I have already mentioned to you; it was not at all in the style of a poor man to his patron, but rather rejoicing that I had an opportunity of giving you what I thought the highest pleasure in the world, that of relieving your friend from the insupportable calamity of having a helpless and distressed mother upon his hande, without its being in my power to help her.
"'When I had sent away my letter, I got credit for a little house, where I placed my mother; but as soon as I thought it possible for me to have an answer, I cannot describe the anxious hours I passed; every moment seemed a thousand; day after day was I in this situation, and no letter came to comfort me. Forgive me, my dear friend; nothing could have given me any suspicion of you at another time; but now everything seemed so much my enemy that I thought you so too. When I remembered our tender parting, tears would start into my eyes; and I thought to have you forsake me, because I wanted fortune, was more than I could bear: yet in the midst of all this trouble I am obliged to struggle and appear cheerful, to keep up my poor mother's sinking spirits. To tell you the variety of misery I went through would make my story tedious, and be shocking to your natures; when I thought my Stainville had forsaken me, the neglect of all my other professed friends was trifliug. The insults of my creditors I could have supported, with tolerable patience; but my father's last words, "Take care of my wife!" continually resounded in my ears; and I saw daily before my eyes this wife — this mother — and found myself utterly void of any power to save her from destruction; and now fruitless lamentations were the only refuge left me.
"'When I was almost driven to the utmost despair, at last, by often revolving in my mind various schemes to extricate myself out of the deplorable condition of seeing a tender parent languish away her little remains of life in want of necessaries, I recollected the young Duke de ———; who, you know, sir, left the academy about two months after we came to it. The little while he was there with us he was particularly civil to me; and I resolved now, as my last effort, to write him my case in the most pathetic terms I could think of, and try if I could prevail on him to deliver me out of my misery. It was some time before I obtained an answer, and when it came it was perfectly in the style of a great man to his dependant: however, at the bottom he told me he had procured a place for me, which would bring in about fifty louis-d'or a year; if I would accept this, I must come immediately to Paris.
"'Though this was not a thing fit to be offered a gentleman, yet it was not a time for me to consider my station in life; this would be some little support to my mother, and I did not fear bustling in the world for myself. I was going to Paris when I was taken ill of a violent fever in the house where you found me. I had but just enough in my pocket to have carried me to my journey's end; this was soon spent in sickness, and I was in a place where I was an utter stranger, confined to my bed, without a penny to help myself; and though death would have been very welcome to me, as it would have put an end to my misfortunes, yet when I considered my mother, I looked on it with great dread.
"'My landlord happened to be a very humane, good-natured man, and on my telling him my helpless condition, desired me not to make myself uneasy, for that he would for the present bring me necessaries, and he did not doubt but by the representation of my circumstances, to a very charitable gentleman who was lately come to the Count de ———'s, he should get me some relief.
"'My distemper became so violent that I was hardly sensible; but by the great care that was taken of me, it abated by degrees; and as soon as I came to recollect how long I had lain there, I asked who was the generous benefactor to whom I owed the preservation of my life; and was immediately told by my, landlord that he had found a method of making my case known to the Marquis de Stainville, who had given strict orders to have the utmost care taken of me, and sent money for that purpose. At the sound of that name I started up in my bed, and stared so wildly that the poor man was quite frightened. At last I cried out, "Are you sure it is the Marquis de Stainville? Are you positive you don't mistake the name?" "No, no, sir," replied the man; "I know I am right in what I say; he married the Count de ———'s daughter, and is here at his house," I had lived so retired from the time of my father's death, and had been so little inquisitive about anything that passed in the world, that I had never so much as heard of your marriage: however, on the man's positive assurance that he was not mistaken, I began to think this goodness was like the nature of my old friend; but then it seemed to be improbable that a man who was capable of being so charitable to strangers could abandon his friend in the highest distress. This put it into my head that possibly my letter might have miscarried, and you were yet ignorant of all I had suffered. This thought infused such inexpressible and sudden joy all over me, it hastened my recovery so much, that in two days' time I was able to walk about my room.
"'As I was sitting and considering with myself which way I should bring about an interview with you, without directly sending my name, my landlord said, "Now, sir, if you have a mind to see your benefactor, the Marquis de Stainville, at that window, you may satisfy your curiosity, for he is coming this way." I immediately placed myself in such a position that it was impossible for you to pass by without seeing me; but how, ladies, shall I describe my raptures when I saw the Marquis de Stainville start at the first sight of me; fly in a moment back to the door, and run into my arms with all the joy which attends the unexpected meeting of a long-absent friend! This sudden transport, with the shame I felt for having ever suspected his affection, joined to the great weakness of my body, quite overcame me, and it was some time before my words could find an utterance; but as soon as I was able to speak, I asked him ten thousand questions at once, talked confusedly of a letter; in short, we could not presently understand one another; but at last I found out that all I had endured was owing to accidently directing my letter to the Marquis at Paris, when he was at his father's villa, which occasioned its being lost; nor did I ever receive that my friend wrote to me at the academy, having left that place, as I at first told you, the day after we were separated.'
"Here my brother interrupted the Chevalier Dumont, and said there had nothing more happened worth mentioning till they met us in the garden; but we were so pleased with this happy meeting of the two friends, that we begged to know everything that passed between them; and, on our request, the Chevalier proceeded—
"'It is the Marquis's generosity, ladies, which makes him willing that I should stop here, as what remains is a proof that I owe him the greatest obligation imaginable. In our walk home, although, as he saw me weak, he would not inquire into more particulars than he thought necessary to find out in what manner he could best serve me, yet his impatience to prove by all ways how much he was my friend, led him to ask me by what means I could have been brought into such a condition; and I in broken sentences explained myself so far to him that, with his penetration, he found out that to send an immediate relief to my mother was the only thing capable of giving me ease. This he has already done.'
"The Marquis would by no means admit him to go any further; but said, 'I beg, my dear Dumont, you will talk no more of such trifles from this time forward; the only favour I beg of you is to make my house your own; nor shall you accept of that pitiful thing the Duke de designed for you.'
"The Chevalier's heart was too full to make any answer, and my brother artfully turned the conversation another way. Politeness and good-humour reigned throughout this our little company; and the agreeable and lively manner in which we spent our time, joined to his being convinced of the sincerity of his friend, had such an immediate effect on the tender-hearted Dumont, that it is almost incredible how soon he was restored to perfect health. This was by much the happiest part of my life, and on this little period of time I wish I could for ever fix my thoughts; but our tranquillity was soon disturbed by an accident which I must pause and take breath awhile before I relate."
In the meantime David and Valentine both expressed their great admiration of the Marquis de Stainville and the Chevalier Dumont's sincere and faithful friendship; and by their looks and gestures plainly declared the inward exultings of their minds at the thought that they had met with the same happiness in each other. Isabelle's last words had raised the curiosity of the whole company to such a degree that she was resolved she would keep them no longer in suspense than was necessary to enable her to gratify them, and then proceeded, as will be seen in the next chapter.
END OF THE THIRD BOOK