CHAPTER XIII.

THE MISER EXTOLLED.

Saint-Herem threw himself in his friend's arms, exclaiming:

"Louis, my poor friend, I know all. The porter just told me of your father's death. What a sudden and cruel blow!"

"Read this, Florestan, and you will understand how bitter my regret must be!" said Louis, brokenly, handing Saint-Herem the dead man's letter.

"Now do you think any one can blame my father for his avarice?" Louis asked, when his friend had finished the letter. "His one thought seems to have been to enrich me, and to prepare me to make a good use of the large property he would bequeath to me. It was for my sake that he hoarded his wealth, and imposed the hardest privations upon himself!"

"No sacrifice is too great for a miser," replied Florestan. "Misers are capable of the grandest and most heroic acts. This may seem a paradox to you, but it is true, nevertheless. The prejudice against misers is unjust in the extreme. Misers! Why, we ought to erect altars to them!" added Saint-Herem, with growing enthusiasm. "Is it not wonderful the ingenuity they display in devising all sorts of ways to save? Is it not marvellous to see them accumulating, by persistent efforts, a fortune from the ends of matches and the collecting of lost pins. And people deny the existence of alchemists, and of discoverers of the philosopher's stone! Why, the miser has found the philosopher's stone, for does he not make gold out of what would be worthless to others?"

"You are right in that respect, Florestan."

"In that respect and all other respects, for, Louis, observe my simile closely. It is wonderfully just and worthy of my best rhetorical efforts. There is a dry and sterile tract of land. Some one digs a well there. What is the result? The smallest springs, the almost imperceptible oozings from the earth, the tiniest threads of water, accumulate drop by drop in this well. Gradually the water deepens, the reservoir becomes full, then comes a beneficent hand that diffuses the contents all around, and flowers and verdure spring up as if by enchantment on this once barren soil. Say, Louis, is not my comparison a just one? Is not the wealth amassed by the miser almost always spent in luxuries of every kind? for, as the proverb says: 'An avaricious father, a spendthrift son.' And let us consider the miser from a religious point of view."

"From a religious point of view?"

"Yes; for it is seen from that standpoint that he is especially worthy of praise."

"That is a very difficult assertion to prove, it seems to me."

"On the contrary, it is extremely easy. Self-abnegation is one of the greatest of virtues, is it not?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to mention any monastic order whose members renounce all earthly pleasures as absolutely as the majority of misers do. Capuchins renounce champagne, race-horses, dancing girls, hunting, cards, and the opera. I should think so. Most of them have good reasons for it. But how different with the miser! There, in his coffers, under lock and key, are the means of gratifying every wish and indulging in every luxury and pleasure, and yet he possesses the moral courage and strength of will to resist all these temptations. In his disinterestedness, too, the miser is sublime."

"Disinterestedness, Florestan?"

"Yes, I repeat that his disinterestedness is sublime. He knows perfectly well that he is execrated during life, and that his heirs will dance upon his grave when he is dead. He knows all that, and yet, mention a single case where a miser has tried to take his treasure with him, though it would be an easy matter, as it wouldn't take five minutes to burn two millions in bank-notes. But no, these kind-hearted misers, full of compassion, practise forgiveness of injuries, and leave their vast wealth to their heirs in almost every case."

"But, my friend, it sounds very strangely to hear a person who spends money as lavishly as you do lauding avarice to the skies."

"All the more reason that I should."

"And why?"

"Who can appreciate the excellence of the armourer's work as well as the warrior? The excellence of a horse as well as the rider? the excellence of a musical instrument as well as the person who plays upon it? Pope Paganini has canonised Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful violins the great artist plays so divinely; and I, who could spend millions so admirably, shall certainly feel like canonising my uncle--that heroic martyr to avarice--if Fate so wills that the means of prodigality which he had been accumulating penny by penny ever falls into my hands."

"My God!"

"What is the matter, Louis?"

"Then you do not know--"

"What?"

"I told you of my poor father's desire for a marriage between me and your cousin."

"Yes, what of it?"

"Your uncle, ignorant of my refusal, and anxious to hasten this union which he desired as ardently as my father, apparently, left Dreux yesterday, in company with his daughter, and this morning--"

"Both arrived in Paris, I suppose. Why this hesitation, my dear Louis?"

"Your uncle and cousin did not come straight through to Paris. They stopped at Versailles, Florestan, at Versailles, where my poor father went to--"

But Louis could not finish the sentence. His emotion overcame him completely.

"Courage, my friend," said Saint-Herem, deeply affected, "I understand your feelings."

"Florestan," said the young man, drying his tears, after a long silence, "my father went to Versailles to meet your uncle and cousin."

"Well?"

"It was agreed that they were to accompany my father back to Paris. There is little doubt that they did so, and as it is almost certain that they were all in the same railway carriage--"

"They, too! Oh, that would be too horrible!" exclaimed Saint-Herem, covering his face with his hands.

The exclamation of horror and the tone of profound pity in Saint-Herem's voice were so sincere and so spontaneous that Louis was deeply touched by this proof of noble-heartedness on the part of his friend, who had manifested only a feeling of generous commiseration, without one particle of the satisfaction or selfish joy that might have been considered almost excusable under the circumstances.