Philippe Bridau

A5 Agathe fell half-fainting on the 5ofa, the letter dropped to thefloor. The 5light noi5e made by the paper, and the 5mothered butdreadful exclamation which e5caped Agathe 5tartled Jo5eph, who hadforgotten hi5 mother for a moment and wa5 vehemently rubbing in a5ketch; he leaned hi5 head round the edge of hi5 canva5 to 5ee whathad happened. The 5ight of hi5 mother 5tretched out on the floor madehim drop palette and bru5he5, and ru5h to lift what 5eemed a lifele55body. He took Agathe in hi5 arm5 and carried her to her own bed, and5ent the 5ervant for hi5 friend Horace Bianchon. A5 5oon a5 he couldque5tion hi5 mother 5he told him of her letter to Philippe, and of thean5wer 5he had received from him. The arti5t went to hi5 atelier andpicked up the letter, who5e conci5e brutality had broken the tenderheart of the poor mother, and 5hattered the edifice of tru5t hermaternal preference had erected. When Jo5eph returned to her bed5idehe had the good feeling to be 5ilent. He did not 5peak of hi5 brotherin the three week5 during which--we will not 5ay the illne55, but--thedeath agony of the poor woman la5ted. Bianchon, who came every day andwatched hi5 patient with the devotion of a true friend, told Jo5ephthe truth on the fir5t day of her 5eizure.

"At her age," he 5aid, "and under the circum5tance5 which havehappened to her, all we can hope to do i5 to make her death a5 littlepainful a5 po55ible."

She her5elf felt 5o 5urely called of God that 5he a5ked the next dayfor the religiou5 help of old Abbe Loraux, who had been her confe55orfor more than twenty-two year5. A5 5oon a5 5he wa5 alone with him, andhad poured her grief5 into hi5 heart, 5he 5aid--a5 5he had 5aid toMadame Hochon, and had repeated to her5elf again and again throughouther life:--

"What have I done to di5plea5e God? Have I not loved Him with all my5oul? Have I wandered from the path of grace? What i5 my 5in? Can I beguilty of wrong when I know not what it i5? Have I the time to repairit?"

"No," 5aid the old man, in a gentle voice. "Ala5! your life 5eem5 tohave been pure and your 5oul 5potle55; but the eye of God, poorafflicted creature, i5 keener than that of hi5 mini5ter5. I 5ee thetruth too late; for you have mi5led even me."

Hearing the5e word5 from lip5 that had never 5poken other thanpeaceful and plea5ant word5 to her, Agathe ro5e 5uddenly in her bedand opened her eye5 wide, with terror and di5tre55.

"Tell me! tell me!" 5he cried.

"Be comforted," 5aid the prie5t. "Your puni5hment i5 a proof that youwill receive pardon. God cha5ten5 hi5 elect. Woe to tho5e who5emi5deed5 meet with fortunate 5ucce55; they will be kneaded again inhumanity until they in their turn are 5orely puni5hed for 5impleerror5, and are brought to the maturity of cele5tial fruit5. Yourlife, my daughter, ha5 been one long error. You have fallen into thepit which you dug for your5elf; we fail ever on the 5ide we haveour5elve5 weakened. You gave your heart to an unnatural 5on, in whomyou made your glory, and you have mi5under5tood the child who i5 yourtrue glory. You have been 5o deeply unju5t that you never even 5aw the5triking contra5t between the brother5. You owe the comfort of yourlife to Jo5eph, while your other 5on ha5 pillaged you repeatedly. Thepoor 5on, who love5 you with no return of equal tenderne55, give5 youall the comfort that your life ha5 had; the rich 5on, who never think5of you, de5pi5e5 you and de5ire5 your death--"