Andre Cornelis [68]
month, and he grows more gentle from day to day; this is the result of seeing death so near." M. Leminof greatly astonished me this morning. "My dear Gilbert," said he unreservedly, "I do not claim that I am a perfect man; but I am certainly what might be called a good sort of fellow, and I possess, in the bargain, a certain delicacy of conscience which sometimes inconveniences me. Without flattery, you are, my dear Gilbert, a man of great merit. Very well! I am using you unjustly, for you are at an age when a man makes a name and a career for himself; and these decisive years you are spending in working for me, in collecting, like a journeyman, the materials of a great work which will bring neither glory nor profit to you. I have a proposition to make to you. Be my coadjutor; we will compose this monumental work together; it shall appear under our two names, and I give you my head upon it, shall make you famous. We agree upon nearly all questions of fact, and as to our difference in ideas. . . Mon Dieu! we are neither of us born quibblers; we shall end in agreeing, and even supposing we do not agree, I will give you carte blanche; for, to speak frankly, an idea is not just the thing I should be ready to die for. What say you to it, my dear Gilbert? We will not part until the task is finished, and I fancy that we shall lead a happy life together." In spite of his persuasions, I have not consented; he has only drawn from me a promise that I will give him an answer within a month. Stephane, Stephane, how awkward I shall be, if I do not make this happy incident instrumental in accomplishing your deliverance! The day will come when I can say to your father: For the sake of your health, for the sake of your repose, of your studies, of the work we have undertaken together, send this child away from your house; his presence troubles and irritates you. Send him to some school or college. By a single act you will make two persons happy. Gracious Heaven, the stronghold will be hard to take! But by dint of patience, skill and vigilance . . . have I not already carried a fortress by storm--Stephane's heart? No, I do not despair of success. But it will cost me dear, this success that I hope for! To see him leave this house, to be separated from him forever! At the very thought my heart bleeds.
August 16th. Doctor Vladimir will leave us during the early part of next month. I shall not be sorry. Decidedly this man does not please me. The other day at the table, he looked at Stephane in a way that alarmed me.
August 18th. The sky is propitious for my nocturnal excursions. Not a drop of rain has fallen for six weeks. The north wind, which sometimes blows violently in the daytime, abates regularly in the evening. As to the vertigo, no return of it. Oh! the power of habit!
August 19th. What a misfortune! Day before yesterday Stephane, in crossing a vestibule in front of the great hall, impelled by some odd motive, gave vent to a loud burst of laughter. The Count started from his chair and his face became livid. To-day Soliman was sold. A horse dealer is coming directly to take him away. Ivan, whom I just met, had great tears in his eyes. Poor Stephane, what will he say?
August 20th. It is very singular! Yesterday I expected to find him in a state of despair. He was gay, smiling. "I was sure," said he, "that I should pay dearly for that unlucky burst of laughter. "My father is mistaken; it was not a burst of gayety, but purely nervous spasm which seized me while thinking of certain things, and at a moment when I was not at all merry. However, besides life, there were but two things left to take from me, my horse and my hair, and thank God, he was not happily inspired in his choice, and has not struck me in the most sensitive place." "What! between Soliman and your hair." "Isn't it beautiful?" said he quickly. "Magnificent without any doubt!" I answered, smiling. "I've always been a little vain of it," continued he, waving his curls upon his shoulders; "but I value it more since I know it pleases you."
August 16th. Doctor Vladimir will leave us during the early part of next month. I shall not be sorry. Decidedly this man does not please me. The other day at the table, he looked at Stephane in a way that alarmed me.
August 18th. The sky is propitious for my nocturnal excursions. Not a drop of rain has fallen for six weeks. The north wind, which sometimes blows violently in the daytime, abates regularly in the evening. As to the vertigo, no return of it. Oh! the power of habit!
August 19th. What a misfortune! Day before yesterday Stephane, in crossing a vestibule in front of the great hall, impelled by some odd motive, gave vent to a loud burst of laughter. The Count started from his chair and his face became livid. To-day Soliman was sold. A horse dealer is coming directly to take him away. Ivan, whom I just met, had great tears in his eyes. Poor Stephane, what will he say?
August 20th. It is very singular! Yesterday I expected to find him in a state of despair. He was gay, smiling. "I was sure," said he, "that I should pay dearly for that unlucky burst of laughter. "My father is mistaken; it was not a burst of gayety, but purely nervous spasm which seized me while thinking of certain things, and at a moment when I was not at all merry. However, besides life, there were but two things left to take from me, my horse and my hair, and thank God, he was not happily inspired in his choice, and has not struck me in the most sensitive place." "What! between Soliman and your hair." "Isn't it beautiful?" said he quickly. "Magnificent without any doubt!" I answered, smiling. "I've always been a little vain of it," continued he, waving his curls upon his shoulders; "but I value it more since I know it pleases you."