CHAPTER IV.
MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY.
The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the twofriends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. MonsieurRoger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithfulhearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, ina large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn,opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation hadfallen into an embarrassing silence. Every one looked at MonsieurRoger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount theterrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to askhim anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkledsky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessedthe thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He passedhis hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and witha resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,--
"I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me thestory of my sorrow."
Monsieur and Madame Dalize made a sight gesture of negation.
"Yes," continued Monsieur Roger, "I know very well that you do not wishit through idle curiosity, that you fear to reawaken my griefs; but towhom can I tell my story, if not to you? I owe it to you as a sacreddebt, and, if I held my tongue, it seems to me a dark spot would comeupon our friendship. You know what a lovely and charming wife I married.Her only fault--a fault only in the eyes of the world--was that she waspoor. I had the same fault. When my son George came into the world Isuddenly was filled with new ambitions. I wished, both for his sake andfor his mother's, to amass wealth, and I worked feverishly andcontinuously in my laboratory. I had a problem before me, and at last Isucceeded in solving it. I had discovered a new process for treatingsilver ores. Fear nothing: I am not going to enter into technicaldetails; but it is necessary that I should explain to you the reasonwhich made me"--here Monsieur paused, and then continued, with profoundsadness--"which made _us_ go to America. Silver ores in most of themines of North America offer very complex combinations in the sulphur,bromide, chloride of lime, and iodine, which I found mixed up with theprecious metal,--that is to say, with the silver. It is necessary tofree the silver from all these various substances. Now, the knownprocesses had not succeeded in freeing the silver in all its purity.There was always a certain quantity of the silver which remained alloyedwith foreign matters, and that much silver was consequently lost. Theprocesses which I had discovered made it possible to obtain the entirequantity of silver contained in the ore. Not a fraction of the preciousmetal escaped. An English company owning some silver-mines in Texasheard of my discovery, and made me an offer. I was to go to Texas forten years. The enterprise was to be at my own risk, but they would giveme ten per cent on all the ore that I saved. I felt certain to succeed.My wife, full of faith in me, urged me to accept. What were we risking?A modest situation in a chemical laboratory, which I should always beable to obtain again. Over there on the other side of the Atlantic therewere millions in prospect; and if I did not succeed from the beginning,my wife, who drew and painted better than an amateur,--as well as mostpainters, indeed,--and who had excellent letters of recommendation,would give drawing-lessons in New Orleans, where the company had itshead-quarters. We decided to go; but first we came to Paris. I wishedto say good-by to you and to show you my son, my poor little George, ofwhom I was so proud, and whom you did not know. He was then two andone-half years old. My decision had been taken so suddenly that I couldnot announce it to you. When we arrived in Paris, we learned that youwere in Nice. I wrote to you,--don't you remember?" said Monsieur Roger,turning to Monsieur Dalize.
"Yes, my friend; I have carefully kept that letter of farewell, full ofhope and of enthusiasm."
"We were going to embark from Liverpool on the steamer which would godirectly to New Orleans. The steamer was called the Britannic."
Monsieur Roger stopped speaking, full of emotion at this recollection.At the end of a long silence he again took up the thread of his story.
"The first days of the journey we had had bad weather. And I had passedthem almost entirely in our state-room with my poor wife and my littleboy, who were very sea-sick. On the tenth day (it was the 14th ofDecember) the weather cleared up, and, notwithstanding a brisk wind fromthe north-east, we were on the deck after dinner. The night had come;the stars were already out, though every now and then hidden underclouds high up in the sky, which fled quickly out of sight. We were inthe archipelago of Bahama, not far from Florida.
"'One day more and we shall be in port,' I said to my wife and toGeorge, pointing in the direction of New Orleans.
"My wife, full of hope,--too full, alas! poor girl,--said to me, with asmile, as she pointed to George,--
"'And this fortune that we have come so far to find, but which we shallconquer without doubt, this fortune will all be for this littlegentleman.'
"George, whom I had just taken upon my knees, guessed that we werespeaking of him, and he threw his little arms around my neck and touchedmy face with his lips."