the two brothers-第75章

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body。　He　took　Agathe　in　his　arms　and　carried　her　to　her　own　bed；　and

sent　the　servant　for　his　friend　Horace　Bianchon。　As　soon　as　he　could

question　his　mother　she　told　him　of　her　letter　to　Philippe；　and　of　the

answer　she　had　received　from　him。　The　artist　went　to　his　atelier　and

picked　up　the　letter；　whose　concise　brutality　had　broken　the　tender

heart　of　the　poor　mother；　and　shattered　the　edifice　of　trust　her

maternal　preference　had　erected。　When　Joseph　returned　to　her　bedside

he　had　the　good　feeling　to　be　silent。　He　did　not　speak　of　his　brother

in　the　three　weeks　during　whichwe　will　not　say　the　illness；　butthe

death　agony　of　the　poor　woman　lasted。　Bianchon；　who　came　every　day　and

watched　his　patient　with　the　devotion　of　a　true　friend；　told　Joseph

the　truth　on　the　first　day　of　her　seizure。



〃At　her　age；〃　he　said；　〃and　under　the　circumstances　which　have

happened　to　her；　all　we　can　hope　to　do　is　to　make　her　death　as　little

painful　as　possible。〃



She　herself　felt　so　surely　called　of　God　that　she　asked　the　next　day

for　the　religious　help　of　old　Abbe　Loraux；　who　had　been　her　confessor

for　more　than　twenty…two　years。　As　soon　as　she　was　alone　with　him；　and

had　poured　her　griefs　into　his　heart；　she　saidas　she　had　said　to

Madame　Hochon；　and　had　repeated　to　herself　again　and　again　throughout

her　life：



〃What　have　I　done　to　displease　God？　Have　I　not　loved　Him　with　all　my

soul？　Have　I　wandered　from　the　path　of　grace？　What　is　my　sin？　Can　I　be

guilty　of　wrong　when　I　know　not　what　it　is？　Have　I　the　time　to　repair

it？〃



〃No；〃　said　the　old　man；　in　a　gentle　voice。　〃Alas！　your　life　seems　to

have　been　pure　and　your　soul　spotless；　but　the　eye　of　God；　poor

afflicted　creature；　is　keener　than　that　of　his　ministers。　I　see　the

truth　too　late；　for　you　have　misled　even　me。〃



Hearing　these　words　from　lips　that　had　never　spoken　other　than

peaceful　and　pleasant　words　to　her；　Agathe　rose　suddenly　in　her　bed

and　opened　her　eyes　wide；　with　terror　and　distress。



〃Tell　me！　tell　me！〃　she　cried。



〃Be　comforted；〃　said　the　priest。　〃Your　punishment　is　a　proof　that　you

will　receive　pardon。　God　chastens　his　elect。　Woe　to　those　whose

misdeeds　meet　with　fortunate　success；　they　will　be　kneaded　again　in

humanity　until　they　in　their　turn　are　sorely　punished　for　simple

errors；　and　are　brought　to　the　maturity　of　celestial　fruits。　Your

life；　my　daughter；　has　been　one　long　error。　You　have　fallen　into　the

pit　which　you　dug　for　yourself；　we　fail　ever　on　the　side　we　have

ourselves　weakened。　You　gave　your　heart　to　an　unnatural　son；　in　whom

you　made　your　glory；　and　you　have　misunderstood　the　child　who　is　your

true　glory。　You　have　been　so　deeply　unjust　that　you　never　even　saw　the

striking　contrast　between　the　brothers。　You　owe　the　comfort　of　your

life　to　Joseph；　while　your　other　son　has　pillaged　you　repeatedly。　The

poor　son；　who　loves　you　with　no　return　of　equal　tenderness；　gives　you

all　the　comfort　that　your　life　has　had；　the　rich　son；　who　never　thinks

of　you；　despises　you　and　desires　your　death〃



〃Oh！　no；〃　she　cried。



〃Yes；〃　resumed　the　priest；　〃your　humble　position　stands　in　the　way　of

his　proud　hopes。　Mother；　these　are　your　sins！　Woman；　your　sorrows　and

your　anguish　foretell　that　you　shall　know　the　peace　of　God。　Your　son

Joseph　is　so　noble　that　his　tenderness　has　never　been　lessened　by　the

injustice　your　maternal　preferences　have　done　him。　Love　him　now；　give

him　all　your　heart　during　your　remaining　days；　pray　for　him；　as　I

shall　pray　for　you。〃



The　eyes　of　the　mother；　opened　by　so　firm　a　hand；　took　in　with　one

retrospective　glance　the　whole　course　of　her　life。　Illumined　by　this

flash　of　light；　she　saw　her　involuntary　wrong…doing　and　burst　into

tears。　The　old　priest　was　so　deeply　moved　at　the　repentance　of　a　being

who　had　sinned　solely　through　ignorance；　that　he　left　the　room　hastily

lest　she　should　see　his　pity。



Joseph　returned　to　his　mother's　room　about　two　hours　after　her

confessor　had　left　her。　He　had　been　to　a　friend　to　borrow　the

necessary　money　to　pay　his　most　pressing　debts；　and　he　came　in　on

tiptoe；　thinking　that　his　mother　was　asleep。　He　sat　down　in　an

armchair　without　her　seeing　him；　but　he　sprang　up　with　a　cold　chill

running　through　him　as　he　heard　her　say；　in　a　voice　broken　with

sobs；



〃Will　he　forgive　me？〃



〃What　is　it；　mother？〃　he　exclaimed；　shocked　at　the　stricken　face　of

the　poor　woman；　and　thinking　the　words　must　mean　the　delirium　that

precedes　death。



〃Ah；　Joseph！　can　you　pardon　me；　my　child？〃　she　cried。



〃For　what？〃　he　said。



〃I　have　never　loved　you　as　you　deserved　to　be　loved。〃



〃Oh；　what　an　accusation！〃　he　cried。　〃Not　loved　me？　For　seven　years

have　we　not　lived　alone　together？　All　these　seven　years　have　you　not

taken　care　of　me　and　done　everything　for　me？　Do　I　not　see　you　every

day；hear　your　voice？　Are　you　not　the　gentle　and　indulgent　companion

of　my　miserable　life？　You　don't　understand　painting？Ah！　but　that's　a

gift　not　always　given。　I　was　saying　to　Grassou　only　yesterday：　'What

comforts　me　in　the　midst　of　my　trials　is　that　I　have　such　a　good

mother。　She　is　all　that　an　artist's　wife　should　be；　she　sees　to

everything；　she　takes　care　of　my　material　wants　without　ever　troubling

or　worrying　me。'〃



〃No；　Joseph；　no；　you　have　loved　me；　but　I　have　not　returned　you　love

for　love。　Ah！　would　that　I　could　live　a　little　longer　Give　me　your

hand。〃



Agathe　took　her　son's　hand；　kissed　it；　held　it　on　her　heart；　and

looked　in　his　face　a　long　time；letting　him　see　the　azure　of　her　eyes

resplendent　with　a　tenderness　she　had　hitherto　bestowed　on　Philippe

only。　The　painter；　well　fitted　to　judge　of　expression；　was　so　struck

by　the　change；　and　saw　so　plainly　how　the　heart　of　his　mother　had

opened　to　him；　that　he　took　her　in　his　arms；　and　held　her　for　some

moments　to　his　heart；　crying　out　like　one　beside　himself；〃My　mother！

oh；　my　mother！〃



〃Ah！　I　feel　that　I　am　forgiven！〃　she　said。　〃God　will　confirm　the

child's　pardon　of　its　mother。〃



〃You　must　be　calm：　don't　torment　yourself；　hear　me。　I　feel　myself

loved　enough　in　this　one　moment　for　all　the　past；〃　he　said；　as　he　laid

her　back　upon　the　pillows。



During　the　two　weeks'　struggle　between　life　and　death；　there　glowed

such　love　in　every　look　and　gesture　and　impulse　of　the　soul　of　the

pious　creature；　that　each　effusion　of　her　feelings　seemed　like　the

expression　of　a　lifetime。　The　mother　thought　only　of　her　son；　she

herself　counted　for　nothing；　sustained　by　love；　she　was　unaware　of　her

sufferings。　D'Arthez；　Michel　Chrestien；　Fulgence　Ridal；　Pierre

Grassou；　and　Bianchon　often　kept　Joseph　company；　and　she　heard　them

talking　art　in　a　low　voice　in　a　corner　of　her　room。



〃Oh；　how　I　wish　I　knew　what　color　is！〃　she　exclaimed　one　evening　as

she　heard　them　discussing　one　of　Joseph's　pictures。



Joseph；　on　his　side；　was　sublimely　devoted　to　his　mother。　He　never

left　her　chamber；　answered　tenderness　by　tenderness；　cherishing　her

upon　his　heart。　The　spectacle　was　never　afterwards　forgotten　by　his

friends；　and　they　themselves；　a　band　of　brothers　in　talent　and

nobility　of　nature；　were　to　Joseph　and　his　mother　all　that　they　should

have　been；friends　who　prayed；　and　truly　wept；　not　saying　prayers　and

shedding　tears；　but　one　with　their　friend　in　thought　and　action。

Joseph；　inspired　as　much　by　feeling　as　by　genius；　divined　in　the

occasional　expression　of　his　mother's　face　a　desire　that　was　deep

hidden　in　her　heart；　and　he　said　one　day　to　d'Arthez；



〃She　has　loved　that　brigand　Philippe　too　well　not　to　want　to　see　him

before　she　dies。〃



Joseph　begged　Bixiou；　who　frequented　the　Bohemian　regions　where

Philippe　was　still　occasionally　to　be　found；　to　persuade　that

shameless　son　to　play；　if　only　out　of　pity；　a　little　comedy　of

tenderness　which　might　wrap　the　mother's　heart　in　a　winding…sheet　of

illusive　happiness。　Bixiou；　in　his　capacity　as　an　observing　and

misanthropical　scoffer；　desired　nothing　better　than　to　under