In Search of a Son

  CHAPTER XX.

  FIRE.

  Certainly Monsieur Roger had heard, certainly he tried to convincehimself; but when his looks fell upon Paul, his reason forsook him andhe doubted again, and even he hoped. Some days passed in a semi-sadnessthat made every one feel uneasy. The children, without knowing why, knewthat something had happened which troubled the mutual happiness of theirlife. Monsieur and Madame Dalize alone understood and pitied theirfriend Roger. They endeavored to interest him in other things,--butMonsieur Roger refused walks, excursions, and the invitations of theneighbors. He had asked Monsieur Dalize to let him alone for a while, ashe felt the need of solitude.

  One morning Albert said to his father,--

  "Father, Paul and I wish to go with a fishing-party to the farm, as wedid last year. Will you allow us to do so?"

  "Yes," answered Monsieur Dalize; "but on one condition."

  "What is it?"

  "That you take Monsieur Roger with you."

  Albert looked at his father, and answered,--

  "Then you refuse?"

  "Why, no,--I only make that condition."

  "Yes, father; but as we cannot fulfil the condition, it is equal to arefusal."

  "Why cannot you fulfil it? What is there so difficult about it?"

  "You know as well as I, my dear father, Monsieur Roger has been for sometime very sad, very preoccupied; he wants to remain by himself, andconsequently he will refuse to go to the farm."

  "Who knows?"

  "Well, at all events, I would not dare to ask him."

  "Well, then, let Paul do it."

  "But what would Paul say?"

  "He will say that I am detained here, that I cannot come with you, andthat, not thinking it prudent to allow you to go fishing alone, Iobject to it unless Monsieur Roger will consent to take my place."

  "Very well, father," said Albert, in a disappointed tone. "We will seewhether Paul succeeds; but I am afraid he will not."

  But Paul did succeed. Monsieur Roger could not resist the request sopleasantly made by the boy. That evening, after dinner, they left hometo sleep at the farm, which was situated on the borders of the RiverYonne. They had to get up at daybreak in order to begin their fishing.The farmers gave up to Monsieur Roger the only spare room they had inthe house. Albert and Paul had to sleep in what they called the turret.This turret, the last mossy vestige of the feudal castle, whose verywindows were old loop-holes, now furnished with panes of glass, stoodagainst one end of the farm-house. It was divided into three stories:the first story was a place where they kept hay and straw; in the secondthere slept a young farm-boy; the higher story was reserved for anotherservant, who was just now absent.

  "In war we must do as the warriors do," cried Albert, gayly; "besides,we have not so long to sleep. You may take whichever room you like thebest."

  "I will take the highest story, if you are willing," answered Paul; "theview must be beautiful."

  "Oh, the view! through the loop-holes and their blackened glasses!However, you can climb up on the old platform of the turret if you wish.It is covered with zinc, like the roof of an ordinary house; but, allthe same, one can walk upon it. Come, I will show it to you."

  The wooden staircase was easily ascended by the boys. When they hadreached the room which Paul was to occupy, Albert pointed his handtowards the ceiling and made Paul remark a large bolt.

  "See," said he: "you have only to get upon a chair to draw this bolt andto push the trap-door, which gives admission to the turret. On the roofyou will, in fact, see a beautiful view."

  "I shall do that to-morrow morning, when I get up," answered Paul.

  Albert, after he had said good-night to his friend, descended thestaircase and slept in the bed which the farm-boy had yielded to him;the latter was to spend the night upon a bed of hay in the first story.

  A distant clock in the country had struck twelve. Monsieur Roger hadopened the window of his room, and, being unable to sleep, was thinking,still the prey to the fixed idea, still occupied by the strangeresemblance; and now the two names of Paul and George mingled togetherin his mind and were applied only to the one and the same dear being.Suddenly the odor of smoke came to him, brought on the breeze. In thecloudy night he saw nothing, and still the smoke grew more and moredistinct. Every one was asleep at the farm: no light was burning, nosound was heard. Monsieur Roger bent over the window-sill and lookeduneasily around him. The loop-holes of the lower story of the turretwere illuminated; then sparks escaped from it, soon followed by jets offlame. At the same instant the wooden door which opened into the yardwas violently burst open, and Monsieur Roger saw two young people intheir night-gowns fleeing together and crying with a loud voice. Thiswas all so quick that Monsieur Roger had had neither the time nor thethought of calling for help. A spasm of fear had seized him, which wascalmed, now that Paul and Albert were safe; but the alarm had beengiven, and the farm-hands had awakened. But what help could they expect?The nearest village was six miles off; the turret would be burned beforethe engines could arrive. Monsieur Roger had run out with the others towitness this fire which they could not extinguish. He held Albert in hisarms, embraced him, and said to him,--

  "But, tell me, where is Paul?"

  Albert looked around him.

  "He must be here,--unless fright has made him run away."

  "No, he is not here. But you are sure that he ran out of the tower, areyou not?"

  "Certainly, since it was he who came and shook me in my bed while I wasasleep."

  At this moment a young boy in a night-gown came out of the crowd, and,approaching Albert, said,--

  "No; it was I, sir, who shook you."

  Monsieur Roger looked at the boy who had just spoken, and he felt ahorrible fear take possession of him. He saw that it was the farm-boy.It must have been he whom he had seen fleeing a moment before withAlbert. But Paul? Had he remained in the turret? And the flames whichlicked the walls had almost reached the floor where Paul was sleeping.Was the poor boy still asleep? Had he heard nothing?

  "A ladder!" cried Monsieur Roger, with a cry of fear and despair.

  The ladder was immediately brought; but it was impossible to place itagainst the turret, whose base was in flames.

  Monsieur Roger in a second had examined the battlements which composedthe roof. He ran towards the farm-house, climbed up the staircase to thetop story, opened a trap-door, and found himself upon the roof. Crawlingon his hands and knees, following the ridge of the roof, he reached theturret, and found himself even with the story where Paul Solange wasasleep. The loop-hole was before him. With a blow of his elbow he brokethe glass; then he cried,--

  "Paul! Paul!"

  Below the people looked at him in mournful silence. No reply came fromthe room; he could see nothing through the darkness. Monsieur Roger hada gleam of hope: Paul must have escaped. But a sheet of fire higher thanthe others threw a sudden light through the loop-hole on the other side.

  Monsieur Roger was seized with indescribable anguish. Paul Solange wasthere in his bed. Was he asleep? Monsieur Roger cried out anew with allhis force. Paul remained motionless. Then Monsieur Roger leaned over theroof, and said to the people below,--

  "Cry at the top of your voices! Make a noise!"

  But the next moment he made a sign to them to be silent,--for MonsieurRoger had felt somebody crawling behind him, somebody who had followedhis perilous path. It was Albert Dalize.

  "Oh, my friend,--my poor friend!" cried Monsieur Roger; "what can we do?Is it not enough to make you crazy? See! the staircase is in flames. Youcan hardly pass your arm through the loop-holes. Whether he wakes ornot, he is lost." And then he said, with an awful gravity, "Then, it isbetter he should not awake."

  "No," replied Albert, quickly; "there is an opening at the top of thetower."

  "There is an opening?"

  "Yes, a trap-door, which I showed him only a little while ago, before wewent to sleep."

  Monsieur Roger raised himself upon the roof to a standing positi
on.

  "What are you doing?" cried Albert.

  "I am going to try to reach the top of the tower."

  "It is useless; the bolt opens in the room. Paul only can open it."

  "Paul can open it."

  "If he awakes. But how is it he does not awake?"

  And in his turn Albert called to his friend.

  Paul made no movement. The flames were gaining, growing more and morelight, and the smoke was filtering through the plank floor and fillingthe room.

  "Ah, I understand," cried Monsieur Roger, "I understand: he is notsleeping. That is not sleep,--that is asphyxia."

  "Asphyxia?" repeated Albert, in a voice choked with fear.

  The scene was terrible. There was the boy, a prisoner, who was going todie under the eyes of those who loved him, and separated from themsolely by a circle of stone and of fire,--a circle which they could notcross. He was going to die without any knowledge that he was dying.Asphyxia held him in a death-like trance. Albert saw the floor of theroom crack and a tongue of flame shoot up, which lighted up the sleepingface of Paul Solange. Then he heard a strange cry from a terrified andawful voice. The voice cried,--

  "George! George!"

  And it was Monsieur Roger who had twice called that name.