Avarice - Anger: Two of the Seven Cardinal Sins

"And I, my friend, deem myself a thousand times more fortunate in being the daughter of an honest merchant, instead of having some bloodthirsty hero for a father," remarked Sabine.

"What a strange child you are! Wouldn't you feel proud to be able to say: 'That famous man is my father?'"

"Not by any means. If he were absent, I should be always trembling to think of the danger he might be in; if he were with me, I should always be imagining I saw blood on his hands."

"Such ideas seem very strange to me, for I love heroes, myself," said the older woman, gaily. "But go on, Onésime, I am anxious to hear how this valiant captain could have been kidnapped on French soil." Then, noticing that her nephew was unusually pale, and that big drops of perspiration were standing on his brow, she asked:

"What is the matter, Onésime? You seem to be suffering."

"No, indeed, aunt," replied the young man, enraged at himself for not being able to conceal the agony his burn was causing him. "Now listen to the rest of the story.

"Captain l'Endurci, after a three day's sojourn in Dieppe, started for Paris, unfortunately leaving his head gunner, one of his oldest comrades-in-arms, who was seriously wounded in the last engagement, in Dieppe to attend to some business matters.

"It was between the second and the third post-stations on his route that this audacious attack was made upon the captain, evidently by English emissaries who had been lying in wait for him. It seems that these emissaries had taken advantage of the postilion's credulity to persuade him to allow one of them to take his place and drive the vehicle for awhile. This change of drivers was made while ascending a steep hill, where the progress of the vehicle was necessarily slow, but the Englishman was scarcely in the saddle before he started the horses off at a frightful pace, while the postilion was hurled half-dead upon the ground by the other Englishman, who was clinging to the back of the post-chaise.

"The captain astonished at the terrific speed with which the horses were tearing down the steep descent, thought that the postilion had neglected to put on the brake, and had lost all control of the horses; but soon the rate of speed diminished perceptibly, though the vehicle continued to fly swiftly along.

"The night having become very dark, the captain could not see that the carriage, instead of following the main road, was going in an entirely different direction. Not having the slightest suspicion of this fact, and ignorant of the change of postilions, the captain rode on in this way about an hour and a half, and finally fell asleep.

"The sudden stopping of the carriage woke him, and supposing that he had reached the next relay station, and seeing two or three lanterns flitting about, he was unsuspectingly alighting from the vehicle, when several men suddenly rushed upon him, and, before he had time to offer the slightest resistance, he was securely bound and gagged, and dragged down to the beach on the outskirts of the little seaport town of Hosey, about fifteen miles from Dieppe, and known as the headquarters of a daring gang of smugglers. Here, the captain, who was unable to make the slightest movement or utter a word, was hustled aboard a fishing-smack, and a few minutes afterward, wind and tide both being favourable, the little vessel set sail for England.

"But Captain l'Endurci is not the man to tamely submit to defeat, as the following extract from that gentleman's letter to a friend in this city conclusively proves.

"He writes as follows:

"'When I found myself a prisoner in the hold, my rage at the cowardly trick which had been played upon me became ungovernable. I had been thrown upon a few pieces of old sail in the hold, with my legs securely bound together with a long piece of rope as big as my thumb, and with my hands tied behind my back. I tried by stooping to reach with my teeth the rope that bound my legs, but found it impossible. I knew by the motion of the boat that a strong wind was blowing, and that we were heading straight for the shores of England.

"'I knew the fate that awaited me there. A few words that had passed between my captors had enlightened me. Instead of killing me outright, they wanted to see me lead a life of torture in the hulks. One of them had even spoken of exposing me to the jeers and insults of the populace for several days.

"'The mere thought of such a thing nearly drove me mad, and in a paroxysm of fury I sank back on the old sails, foaming with rage. This ebullition over, anger as usual gave me new strength. My blood boiled in my veins, then, mounting to my brain, gave birth to a thousand projects, each one more audacious than the other, and I felt both my physical and mental vigour increased a hundred-fold by this effervescent condition of all my vital powers.

"'I finally decided upon one of the plans that this paroxysm of rage had suggested to me. In any other frame of mind, it would have seemed utterly impracticable to me, and I believe it would have seemed so to any man who was not half frenzied by a spirit of anger, — anger, that dread and powerful divinity, as the Indian poet says.'"

For some time the young girl who sat listening had seemed to be a prey to a painful preoccupation; several times she had started impatiently as if anxious to escape from some harrowing thought, and now suddenly interrupting the reading in spite of herself, as it were, she exclaimed:

"That man makes me shudder!"

"And why?" demanded the housekeeper. "This brave sailor seems to me as brave as a lion."

"But what a man of iron!" exclaimed the girl, more and more excitedly. "How violent he is! And to think that any person should dare to excuse and even glorify anger when it is so horrible — so unspeakably horrible!"

The housekeeper, without attaching much importance to the girl's protest, however, replied:

"Nonsense, my child! You say that anger is so terrible. That depends, — for if anger suggested to the captain a way and means of escape from these treacherous Englishmen, he is perfectly right to glorify it, and I, in his place — But good Heavens!" she exclaimed, seeing the girl turn alarmingly pale and close her eyes as if she were about to swoon. "Good Heavens, what is the matter with you? Your lips are quivering. You are crying. You do not answer me, — speak, what is the matter?"

But the words failed to reach the ears of the poor child. With her large eyes distended with terror and bewilderment, she indicated with a gesture some apparition which existed only in her disordered imagination, and murmured, wildly:

"The man in black! Oh, the man in black! There he is now! Don't you see him?"

"Calm yourself! Don't allow yourself to think any more about that, in Heaven's name. Don't you know how hurtful such thoughts are to you?"

"Oh, that man! He was equally terrible in his rage, when — It was years and years ago, and I was little more than a baby, but I can see him yet, in his strange, sombre costume of black and white like the livery of the dead. It was night, and my father was absent from home when this man gained an entrance into our house, I know not how. I had never seen him before. He threatened my mother, who was holding me in her arms. 'At least spare my child!' she sobbed. I remember it well. But he only exclaimed, still advancing threateningly upon my mother, 'Don't you know that I am capable of anything in my anger?' And then he rushed out of the room. Oh, my mother, my mother dead, and I — "

The girl could say no more, for she was relapsing into one of the nervous spasms which this terrible recollection almost always caused, — this recollection of a deplorable occurrence from which her condition of morbid susceptibility seemed to have dated.

This crisis soon abated, thanks to the judicious attentions of the housekeeper, who was, alas! only too used to rendering them. When she was herself again, the young girl, whose character was a singular compound of weakness and firmness, thought with shame and regret of the lack of self-control she had displayed while this account of the corsair's escape was being read, an account which, strange to say, had an inexplicable fascination for her, inspiring her at the same time with horror and a sort of morbid curiosity; so, in spite of Onésime's entreaties, she insisted that he should continue the reading so unfortunately interrupted.

The housekeeper, noting this insistence, and fearing that any opposition might react very dangerously upon the girl's excitable nature just at this time, also requested Onésime to continue the account of Captain l'Endurci's escape.

CHAPTER IX.

CONCLUSION OF THE CAPTAIN'S NARRATIVE

The rest of the captain's letter read as follows:

"'In order to carry out my plan, the first thing I had to do was to free myself from my bonds. Being unable to reach them with my mouth so I could gnaw them in two with my teeth, I devised another means. By crawling about on my stomach and feeling around with my face — as I had no use of my hands — I finally succeeded in discovering a large iron hook, doubtless intended for holding the ballast in place. Approaching this hook, I leaned my back against it and began to rub the ropes that bound me across the iron and upon the sharp end of the hook. Two hours afterward I had worn the ropes sufficiently thin to be able to sever them by a powerful wrench, anger having endowed me with almost supernatural strength.

"'My hands free, the rest was only child's play.

"'I had my tinder-box, my pipe, a package of tobacco, and a long whaling-knife in my pocket. In the twinkling of an eye I had cut the ropes that bound my legs and started on a tour of inspection through the hold on my hands and knees, as it was too low to admit of my standing upright.

"'I could find nothing but some scraps of old sail and a few pieces of rope. The only means of egress was a square hatchway. The boards of which this was made had separated a little in one place, and I could see the moonlight through the opening. Placing my hands upon my knees and making my body into a bow, I tried to force open the hatchway with my shoulders, but in vain. It was evidently secured — as it should have been — with two strong iron bars.

"'Taking some of the ends of rope, I cut them into small pieces, untwisted the strands, and in this way soon collected a small pile of tow. Afterward I cut some of the old canvas on which I had been lying into narrow strips and laid them on the little pile of tow, which I had placed directly under the hatchway; after which I emptied my little bag of tobacco on it to make it more combustible, and set fire to it, blowing it vigorously all the while.

"'The tow took fire, communicated it to the pieces of old sail, and an instant afterward the hold was filled with a dense smoke, part of which filtered through the opening in the hatchway, while I yelled "Fire!" with all my might. My cries and the strong smell of smoke that escaped through the hatchway frightened the men on deck. I heard a great commotion up there, the hatchway was raised almost immediately, and the thick cloud of smoke that poured out through the opening was so blinding that I was able to make my way through it, unseen, to the deck, with a single bound, knife in hand. I found myself face to face with a tall, swarthy man. I plunged my knife into his heart. He fell backward into the sea. Leaping for the axe which is always kept near the bitt, so the rigging can be quickly cut away if need be, I struck down another man; then, with a back stroke, nearly cut off the arm of a man who was rushing upon me, sabre in hand. All this occurred almost in the twinkling of an eye. Taking advantage of the sort of stupor that had seized the crew, and feeling much calmer after this explosion of long-suppressed rage, I could see better where I was, or take my bearings a little, as the saying is.

"'It was a magnificent moonlight night; a strong breeze was blowing; an old, white-haired sailor was at the helm; a cabin-boy and three terrified sailors had taken refuge in the bow, separated from me by the open hatchway. The man I had struck down with the axe did not move; the one I had wounded was on his knees, holding his right arm in his left hand.

"'I still had three able-bodied men, a boy, and an old man to contend with, but they, all seemed to be demoralised by my sudden attack.

"'Just then I caught sight of a pair of pistols near the rudder, and before either of the three sailors could make the slightest movement, I jumped for these weapons. In another moment my two bullets had struck down a man apiece. With me at the helm, and the old sailor and the boy to assist me, the boat could be handled with little or no difficulty, for the weather was superb, and we could not be more than fourteen or fifteen miles from the shores of France.

"'My situation thus promptly defined, I loaded my pistols again and advanced toward the three men, who were gradually recovering from their surprise.

"'"Go down into the hold, all three of you," I thundered. "If you don't, I'll shoot two of you, and hew down the other."

"'There was only the length of the hatchway — about four feet — between me and these men, so I could easily blow their brains out. They instantly jumped into the hold, where the small quantity of combustible material I had lighted was now nearly burned out. The wounded man, too, staggered down as best he could; I replaced the hatchway, securing it with the iron bars as before; then I walked to the stern of the boat.

"'"Give me the helm," I said to the old sailor; "you and the boy are to manage the sail, and manage it right, or I'll blow your brains out."

"'As I took the rudder out of his hand, he recoiled a step and exclaimed:

"'"It is Captain l'Endurci, as I live!"

"'"You know me, then?"

"'"Know you, captain! I made two voyages with you on the Hell-hound."

"'"And your name?"

"'"Simon from Dunkirk."

"'"I remember you now. So you intended to deliver me, your old captain, into the hands of the English, did you?"

"'"May I be shot if I suspected for a single instant that it was you, captain."

"'"So this smack belongs to you, I suppose."

"'"No, captain, to Bezelek."

"'"And where is he?"

"'"At the bottom of the sea. He was the man that you killed first and that fell overboard."

"'"But how does it happen that you consented to have a hand in my abduction?"

"'"Well, captain, we've been doing a little smuggling."

"'"That is very apparent."

"'"And night before last two men came to us, — that is one of them lying there now."

"'He pointed to the dead man in the bow as he spoke.

"'"Throw him into the sea," I said, curtly.

"'"And the other man?" I inquired, as soon as this order had been obeyed.

"'"He is down in the hold. He is the man you wounded in the arm."

"'"And how did these men induce you and Bezelek to become their accomplices?"

"'"They said: 'Bezelek, there are fifty guineas ready for you if you will consent to take a man we will bring to you to England. We do not intend to injure him in any way; but if he resists, you and your men will be expected to lend a hand in gagging and binding him, and placing him in the hold of your fishing-smack. You will be paid twenty-five guineas in advance, and twenty-five more on your arrival at Folkestone.' As there seemed to be no great harm in the proceeding, the offer tempted Bezelek and he agreed to do what the men asked. But I swear that I had no idea it was you. If I had, I would never have had anything to do with the affair."

"'Four hours after I escaped from the hold we were within sight of the port of Mora, where I landed safe and sound.'

"Our readers will, we are sure, feel grateful to us," added the Journal of the Empire, "for having given them this extract from the brave privateer's letter. Thanks be to God, Captain l'Endurci, by his coolness and courage, succeeded in escaping this most infamous conspiracy against him. Let us hope that his name will long remain a terror to the enemies of France."

The article concluded, Onésime laid the paper on the table.

"What a wonderful man this corsair must be!" exclaimed the housekeeper, admiringly. "Alone, bound and gagged, he nevertheless found a way to escape his imminent danger."

"But what a quantity of blood he had to shed!" exclaimed the girl, shuddering. "And not a single word of regret or of pity for his victims. With what cruel indifference he speaks of the men he killed in cold blood; for thus taken by surprise, the poor creatures could offer no resistance."

"That is true," murmured Onésime.

But his aunt did not even hear him, for, turning to the girl, she exclaimed, warmly:

"It is very easy to talk, my child, but in such a position one certainly has a right — "

"Ah, yes, my dear, you are probably going to say that this man was the victim of the vilest treachery, — that he had an undoubted right to recover his liberty at any cost, and that his ferocious disregard of the lives of others is what people call courage and heroism. All this is very possible. I am a poor judge, perhaps. I only tell you how it impresses me. This account of his exploits excites only horror and aversion in me."

"But a corsair is a corsair, my child. You certainly don't expect him to be a saint. Each man according to his trade."

"It is an executioner's business to behead people, aunt, but that makes his trade none the less horrible," exclaimed Onésime.

"Ah, I felt sure M. Onésime would feel as I do about it," said the girl, quickly.

"He? oh, yes, I don't doubt it! He is a regular sissy. When did you ever hear of his doing any fighting?"

"I admit that I am no hero, aunt," replied Onésime, smiling, "I don't doubt in the least that if I were a prisoner, and obliged to kill somebody to regain my liberty, I should remain a prisoner."

"Yours is the truest, noblest kind of courage, after all," responded the young girl, warmly, for her dislike of warriors in general was perhaps due in a great measure to the fact that Onésime, both by reason of his temperament and his infirmity, was never likely to be a man of that kind.

"Onésime courageous!" retorted the housekeeper. "You must be jesting!" Then, turning to her nephew, she cried: "Don't you see that mademoiselle is making fun of you, my poor boy? Oh, well, put my knitting on the table for me, my brave hero, and hand me my work-box without dropping it if you can."

The young man was consequently obliged to hold out both his hands in turn, one to present the work-box, the other to take the knitting, and as the light from the lamp fell full on the table, the pitiless aunt instantly discovered the terrible burn he had received.

"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your hand?" she exclaimed.

"Nothing of any consequence, aunt," he replied, hastily drawing back his hand, while the young girl, whose attention had been attracted by the housekeeper's exclamation, turned toward him anxiously.

But the aunt sprang up, and, seizing her nephew's hand in spite of his efforts to hide it, examined it carefully.

"It is frightfully burned, frightfully!" she cried. "Why, you must be suffering agony with it. It was just done. How did it happen? I know. It was when you poured the boiling water in the urn, and, for fear we would laugh at you, you endured the terrible pain without a word. You even had the courage to go on reading all this time just as if nothing had happened."

"Ah, I told you that he was brave," exclaimed the young girl. "His is the true courage, after all, — not the ferocious courage born of anger, that seeks only to destroy, but the courage of noble hearts who, for fear of alarming those whom they love, endure the most intense suffering without so much as a sign."

The girl's emotion repaid the young man a thousand-fold for his suffering; he even had the happiness of seeing the touching expression of her features, too, this time, as she would insist upon assisting the housekeeper in dressing Onésime's hand.

This work had just been completed, and Onésime was regretting that he had only one burn, when the door of the little parlour was suddenly thrown open, and a servant rushed in, exclaiming:

"Dame Roberts, Dame Roberts, M. Segoffin has come!"

"And my father, — my father has come too, has he not?" exclaimed the girl, her face radiant with joy.

"No, mademoiselle, M. Segoffin says monsieur was detained at the post-office by some letters, but that he will be here almost immediately."

The girl hastened out of the room to prepare to meet her father. As the door closed behind her, Dame Roberts turned to her nephew and said:

"Go up to your room now, Onésime. I will see you before I go to bed and tell you what M. Cloarek says in relation to you, for he must know why I took you into his house in his absence, though I know his kindness of heart well enough to feel sure that he will approve of what I have done."

So Onésime went up to his room oppressed by a vague uneasiness. He had scarcely left the parlour, when M. Segoffin entered it.

CHAPTER X.

SEGOFFIN'S DISSIMULATION

It would be far from complimentary to the reader's penetration to suppose that he had not long since recognised in Onésime's defender Mlle. Cloarek, who lost her mother at the age of five years, in consequence of a nervous shock. We trust, too, that the reader's penetration has served him equally well in the case of Suzanne Roberts, Sabine's former nurse, and Madame Cloarek's confidential attendant and housekeeper, and likewise in the case of Captain l'Endurci and his brave head gunner.

Twelve years have elapsed since we last saw Segoffin, and he is little changed in appearance. He looks as much like a clown as ever, the only modifications which time, or rather events, have made in his grotesquely grave features being, first, a deep scar beginning at the left temple, and extending to the bottom of the cheek (a wound caused, as he affirmed, by an unfortunate fall upon a piece of broken glass).

Second, the recent loss of an eye, an unfortunate loss indicated by a large black patch, and caused, no doubt, by some similar mishap.

In spite of these rather grave injuries to his personal charms, M. Segoffin held his head as high as ever. A long white cravat, decorated with bright red polka dots, encircled his throat; his long redingote and knee-breeches were of the finest brown broadcloth, and his black stockings were of silk. In his right hand, from which two fingers were missing, — two fingers carelessly lost, as he declared, from having been caught in a piece of machinery, — he carried a heavy cane, for he was quite lame now, in consequence of another accident, — at least, so he said.

On seeing Segoffin, Dame Roberts, in spite of the taunts with which she had pursued him for so many years, made no attempt to conceal her pleasure. In the delight his return caused her, she did not notice, at first, that Segoffin was all the while endeavouring to present only his profile, or as nearly a three-quarter view of his face as possible, to the object of his affections. The fact is, he wished to defer the explanation of the recent loss of his eye until the latest possible moment, but the lady, on going a little closer to him, noticed the disfiguring patch, and exclaimed:

"Good Heavens! what is the matter with your eye, Segoffin?"

"Which eye?"

"Why, your right eye."

"My right eye?"

"Yes. Why do you wear that big black patch over it?"