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 Pastor Naudle's 
 
 'oung. wife. 
 
 3 1924 027 299 340 
 
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 M Library 
 
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 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027299340 
 
Pastor Naudid's Young Wife 
 
PASTOR NAUDIE'S 
 YOUNG WIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 EDOUARD ^OD 
 
 TRANSLATED BY BRADLEY GlLMAN 
 
 % 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1899 
 
 f 
 
Copyright, 1899, 
 By Little, Brown, and Company. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 K. \^.^%^^ 
 
 f% 
 
 ganiSjBtstts ?|tras : 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 ALBERT BONNARD 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 "pDOUARD ROD belongs more to the 
 I J country of Calvin and Amiel than to 
 the country of Hugo and Moliere. He is a 
 Swiss by temperament quite as much as by 
 birth. The sombre beauty of Alpine slopes 
 permeates his books ; and, dark as are the val- 
 ley paths along which he sometimes leads his 
 readers, those readers can never lose, from the 
 background of their consciousness, the awed 
 sense of snowy heights far above them, where 
 dwell purity and majesty and peace. 
 
 Behind the deserved success which has now 
 come to Rod, there are many years of patient 
 toil ; prolonged effort has combined with his in- 
 born powers of perception and analysis, to place 
 him where he now stands, in the foremost rank 
 of living fiction-writers in France. He was 
 born in 1857, at Nyon, near Geneva. He 
 vii 
 
Introduction 
 
 studied in Switzerland and in Germany. His 
 independence of judgment was shown by the 
 pamphlet which he put forth in 1879, "A pro- 
 pos de L'Assommoirj" in which he earnestly 
 defended Emile Zola, at that time assailed on 
 every hand by the most violent denunciations. 
 His championship of Zola brought Rod uncon- 
 sciously under the influence of that writer's 
 style ; but in 1885 he had regained his poise, 
 and " La Course a la Mort," published during 
 that year, shows his growing individuality. 
 During several years he was at the head of 
 " La Revue Contemporaine." Until recently 
 he has occupied the Chair of Literature in the 
 University of Geneva ; but this post he has 
 now given up, in order to devote himself more 
 fiiUy to the special field of fiction. 
 
 Rod has published, in all, about fifteen vol- 
 umes. His " Nouvelles Romandes " and his 
 " Scenes de la Vie Cosmopolite " are short 
 stories. " Etudes sur le XlXieme Siecle," 
 " Les Idees Morales du Temps Present " and 
 " Essai sur Goethe " are works of a critical 
 nature. His most distinctive writings, how- 
 ever, are his novels, — " La Course a la Mort," 
 viii 
 
Introduction 
 
 « Le Sens de la Vie," " Les Trols Coeurs," " La 
 Sacrifice," " Le Dernier Refuge," "La Vie 
 Privee de Michel Teissier," " La Seconde 
 Vie de Michel Teissier," " Le Silence," " Les 
 Roches Blanches," " La Haut," and, latest in 
 the list, " Le Menage du Pasteur Naudie." 
 " Les Roches Blanches " has been translated 
 into English, under the title " The White 
 Rocks ; " and " Le Menage du Pasteur Naudie " 
 is presented, in this volume, under the title 
 "Pastor Naudie's Young Wife." 
 
 An examination of these books shows Rod 
 in his twofold character of philosopher and 
 literary artist. He is not a philosophic pedant, 
 crammed with the systems of Plato, Aristotle, 
 Kant, and Hegel, but a student and analyst 
 of human life, as he finds it manifested around 
 him to-day. Rod's readers must not expect 
 to find him elaborating a comprehensive the- 
 ory of the good and evil of the world ; in- 
 deed, they must not expect to find him always 
 consistent with himself. He is too emotional, 
 too fanciful and spontaneous, to be exclusively 
 a philosopher. In a private letter which he 
 recently wrote to a friend, speaking of a certain 
 
Introduction 
 
 suggested reform, he said : "It can surely do 
 no harm, for the world's affairs already go as 
 badly as possible." That remark is not the 
 fruit of calm, philosophic judgment; it is, rather, 
 the passing mood of an artistic, impressionable 
 nature, which feels deeply the burden of human 
 woe. Jules Lemaitre complains, in " Les Con- 
 temporaires," that Rod has no reason to feel 
 so badly about the woes of life, since his own 
 worldly conditions are very comfortable. Such 
 a criticism errs, in that it fails to take account 
 of the delicate sensibility of a nature like Rod's, 
 which feels the pressure of life keenly, and car- 
 ries, by its power of sympathy, other men's 
 burdens as if they were its own. 
 
 The man who could write " Le Sens de la 
 Vie " is more or less a theologian, vehemently 
 as he would probably repudiate that term. 
 More than this, he is even a religious man. 
 If Carlyle's broad definition of religion in 
 " Heroes and Hero Worship " is sound, then 
 Edouard Rod must be classed among those 
 who interpret life religiously. His natural in- 
 clinations take him frequently into the atmos- 
 phere of clerical life ; and his mind is never 
 
Introduction 
 
 more alert, his words never more eloquent, than 
 when he is discussing the fundamental prob- 
 lems of theology and religion. Certainly he 
 is far removed from that superficial, frivolous 
 spirit, which is so often condescendingly at- 
 tributed to the French character by English 
 and American critics, and is attributed by 
 French critics, with equal soundness, to the 
 American character. The reader will see that 
 the author of " La Sacrifice " and " La Vie 
 Privee de Michel Teissier " and " Les Roches 
 Blanches " takes life very seriously, even sadly. 
 To the hasty reader he may seem gloomy and 
 pessimistic, but his sadness has its root in a 
 genuine faith ; and he is gloomy, because he 
 sees. In human life, truth so often on the scaf- 
 fold, and wrong so often on the throne. Yet, 
 behind that very gloom and indignation, is faith 
 in eternal truth and everlasting right, else the 
 ethical chord in his heart would not vibrate so 
 readily and so intensely. Outward pessimism 
 often implies an inward idealism ; scorn of ex- 
 isting conventional codes of morals ^nd religion 
 frequently grows out of a profound reverence 
 for absolute standards of human conduct ; and 
 xi 
 
Introduction 
 
 this condition of mind and heart is closely akin 
 to theism, and even to Christianity. 
 
 Centuries ago, a wise observer of human 
 life said that if only he might be allowed to 
 write the songs of a people, he cared not who 
 framed its laws. This observation has com- 
 mended itself to the judgment of reflective 
 minds through all the succeeding centuries. 
 But one would be justified, in our time, if he 
 retained the spirit and altered the letter of that 
 ancient saying, thereby making it read, "If 
 only I might write the novels of a people, I 
 care not who frames its laws." For laws and 
 statutes are only the results, the products, of a 
 people's growth ; whereas novels are the fore- 
 runners and guides of that growth. 
 
 The writer of fiction, in our day, is a pioneer 
 of thought ; he is teacher and preacher, theo- 
 logian and sociologist, all in one. And he has 
 the incalculable advantage over other guides 
 and reformers of human conduct, that he offers 
 his lessons, his criticisms, his exhortations, in 
 a form which gives them easy entrance into 
 human hearts ; he incarnates his opinions ; he 
 breathes into an abstract idea the breath of life, 
 xii 
 
Introduction 
 
 and it becomes a living soul, and walks among 
 men, to be either hated and shunned by them, 
 or loved and emulated by them, according as 
 its creator, the novelist, has willed. 
 
 This high office — of moulding public 
 thought and conduct, by works of fiction, 
 rather than merely registering the public will, 
 by laws — is one that is shared by all novel- 
 ists, though in varying degrees. Some of 
 them make themselves, consciously, leaders ; 
 others teach more unconsciously, more indi- 
 rectly ; but on all, in some measure, fall grave 
 responsibilities. Whether they will it or not, 
 they must picture human character and con- 
 duct, again and again, as they believe it ought 
 to be. Though they may try to sink their 
 moral convictions in the unmoral artist- 
 instinct, nevertheless the coloring of their ad- 
 jectives and adverbs usually betrays them. 
 
 Edouard Rod's earlier writings, like the 
 earlier writings of Dickens, Stevenson, and 
 many other novelists, were tentative and tran- 
 sitional. With sure, yet by no means slow 
 steps, he has made his way into his proper 
 field of work, the delineation of human char- 
 xiii 
 
Introduction 
 
 acter in real life ; here he finds the fittest con- 
 ditions fof the exercise of his best powers. 
 His style is so simple and clear, that the reader 
 hardly stops to ask if he has one. Benjamin 
 Wells, in his " Century of French Fiction," 
 speaks of him as " a subtly delicate genius ; " 
 and Edmund Gosse has said of him, " Whether 
 in criticism or in fiction, his work always de- 
 mands attention." Nearly all the characters in 
 Rod's novels are drawn from the middle classes 
 of society. Of wit and humor there is little. 
 He does not throw his own emotions into the 
 scale, laughing and weeping with the joys and 
 sorrows of his men and women ; he is too 
 busily and sefiously engaged in analyzing their 
 actions and their motives. There is, in his pages, 
 no seeking after novelty of material, no strain- 
 ing after "local color." He is an anatomist of 
 the human heart, writing for readers of intel- 
 lectual tastes like his own. 
 
 This latest of Monsieur Rod's novels, 
 "Pastor Naudie's Young Wife," appeared in 
 the May and June numbers of " Le Revue 
 des deux Mondes" of 1898. Its title was 
 " Le Menage du Pasteur Naudie." It is a 
 xiv 
 
Introduction 
 
 study of life in the historic town of La Rochelle, 
 and is wholesome in its moral atmosphere, 
 even reminding some critics of Mrs. Humphry 
 Ward's novels. The author throws a shaft of 
 light down into that obscure old Protestant 
 bourgeois community, as it is sometimes thrown 
 down through the water, upon the sea-bed; and 
 every living creature, within the circle of illu- 
 mination, stands as clearly defined as do the 
 figures in one of Meissonier's pictures. Even 
 the characters that move about in the shadowy 
 penumbra just outside the circle, are in good 
 outline and proportion ; and the reader feels, 
 as he finishes the book, like asking the author to 
 shift slightly the angle of his shaft of light, to 
 bring these minor characters out into the illu- 
 minated circle, and then, in another volume, tell 
 us about the detailed workings of Monsieur Lan- 
 thelme's mind, and what Monsieur Merlin really 
 thought about himself when alone at his own fire- 
 side. This is the remarkable effect of Edouard 
 Rod's books. Even the dim secondary charac- 
 ters are so true to life that they arouse a vivid 
 interest, and one wishes to follow them to their 
 homes and haunts, and learn more about them. 
 
 XV 
 
Introduction 
 
 Monsieur Rod is only forty-two years old, 
 and his hand has gained steadily in strength 
 and skill from the first ; doubtless the quality 
 of his work will improve still more, as the years 
 pass ; as Alphonse Gaulin has said, we are justi- 
 fied in expecting from him, in the near future, a 
 masterpiece. Certainly, as his work becomes 
 more widely known, he will find many readers ; 
 for the human heart is the most fruitful and 
 most interesting of themes ; and, however we 
 may yield to the encroachments of material 
 things, however we may bow to the tyranny of 
 outward circumstances, yet, in the last resort, 
 we recognize the truth of those words, so 
 often upon Edouard Rod's lips, and so deeply 
 engraved upon his heart, — " L' Ame seule 
 importe." 
 
 Bradley Oilman. 
 
 XVI 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 PART FIRST 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MONSIEUR NAUDIE stood shivering 
 in the dim light of the cold April 
 morning. Then he set down his small hand- 
 bag on the seat of a second-class carriage. Next 
 he began walking with long strides up and 
 down the platform, stamping from time to time, 
 to warm his feet. " It would be a good plan," 
 said he, talking to himself, " if this station of 
 La Rochelle, now so small and dark and incon- 
 venient, were entirely rebuilt." 
 
 At that moment he heard some one call 
 him by name. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur Defos ! " he replied, with 
 a salute. 
 
 The two men shook hands. Monsieur 
 Naudie, tall, rather slender, narrow-chested, 
 shivered underneath an overcoat which would 
 have been warm enough a little farther south, 
 but was not warm enough, in this latitude, for 
 a night on the steam-cars. His companion 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 had red cheeks, broad shoulders, and full 
 whiskers ; and his profile, with its large curved 
 nose, indicated a strong will. He luxuriated 
 in a thick fur coat ; and, as he promenaded up 
 and down, he seemed very much at home ; in- 
 deed, he acted as if he owned the earth itself. 
 
 " So you are off on a journey, my dear sir ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 " Yes," replied Monsieur Naudie, " I am 
 going to Montauban." 
 
 Then he added, straightening up, with an in- 
 voluntary gesture of pride, " The Faculty cele- 
 brate to-morrow the fiftieth anniversary of my 
 father's election to the Board of Instruction." 
 
 "Ah! to be sure! "said Monsieur Defos; 
 " I read about that in the Signal. It will be a 
 happy day for your family, my dear sir ; and 
 for us also, and for all of us, because we are 
 all proud of your father. Doubtless you will 
 remain with him several days." 
 
 "Hardly that! I must be back by Sunday, 
 for my sermon." 
 
 " I have had it in mind, my dear pastor, to 
 write to you and ask you to dine with us, one 
 of these days, quite informally. How would 
 Tuesday suit you ? " 
 
 This invitation caused Monsieur Naudie 
 some surprise, because, during his residence 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of twelve years in La Rochelle, he had not 
 dined more than four or five times with Defos, 
 and always under such circumstances as the 
 transient visit of a missionary, or the sitting of 
 the convention. He accepted, however, with 
 thanks ; and then inquired, though in a hes- 
 itating way, as if he hardly dared question so 
 grand a personage, " I believe you have, at 
 present, all your family with you ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Monsieur Defos. "My 
 second son is on a vacation ; we shall keep him 
 a fortnight. You know my niece has been 
 with us, also, for some time." 
 
 " To be sure, I have met Miss Defos sev- 
 eral times, in the dwellings of the sick and at 
 committee meetings. It gives one pleasure to 
 see a young girl so earnest, so bent upon doing 
 good." 
 
 While the clergyman thus spoke, his com- 
 panion's keen hard eye was directed toward 
 him, with a penetration that almost wounded ; 
 it seemed to be seeking some concealed 
 thought behind the spoken words. But 
 Monsieur Naudie expressed, with entire sim- 
 plicity, his sincere approbation. Monsieur 
 Defos could not read in his eyes anything 
 different from what he expressed in his 
 speech. 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 "Yes, yes," he remarkfed, rather dryly, "it 
 is a good thing to have her busy." 
 
 The railway officials .were now closing the 
 doors of the carriages. The two men found 
 themselves obliged to separate, — one climbing 
 up into a compartment of the first-class, marked 
 " Reserved," while the other found a seat in 
 a carriage already occupied by four other trav- 
 ellers. The train at once started. As it issued 
 from the station, a few rays of yellowish light 
 entered at the car windows, despite the smoke 
 of the engine. Monsieur Naudie snuggled up 
 into a corner, wondering within himself at the 
 possible reason Monsieur Defos could have 
 for giving him this invitation. Surely he must 
 have some purpose ; he was a man who never 
 acted without one. Monsieur Defos was a 
 man of mark, as much by his wealth as by 
 his family and his own self-assertion. His 
 name — which appeared for the first time, in 
 the Protestant registries of 1616 — was con- 
 nected with several events in the history of 
 La Rochelle. He was a descendant of that 
 David Defos, mentioned so often in Mer- 
 vault's Journal^ who was one of the sheriffs of 
 the year 1627 ; he served his fellow-citizens on 
 several important missions, at the beginning of 
 the siege, but lost their confidence by his luke- 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 warmness in following plain instructions against 
 the judge, Raphael Colin; he regained favor, 
 however, later; and he dared take to task, 
 with haughty dignity, Anne of Austria, when 
 she visited the conquered and depopulated 
 town. The persecutions which preceded the 
 Edict of Nantes by no means served to drive 
 the members of the Defos family from the 
 city ; for their name is again to be found 
 among those youth of La Rochelle who, dur- 
 ing the war with Holland, served with disr 
 tinction under a chief of their own faith, — 
 later a renegade, — Baron de Chatelaillon. 
 Privateersmen of the eighteenth century, as 
 they were, participating in several of those 
 undertakings which failed to establish French 
 colonial rule, the members of the Defos family 
 were almost ruined by the Revolution. In 
 1789, when the National Assembly was pre- 
 paring a new division of the country into de- 
 partments, one of them took upon himself the 
 mission of expressing the old-time individual- 
 ism of La Rochelle, by publishing a " Memoir 
 concerning the Rise, the History, and the In- 
 terests of the Province of Aunis ; " this was an 
 open protest against the reuniting of Aunis 
 and Saintonge. When public peace was re- 
 stored, they revived the ancient maritime and 
 
 S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 commercial enterprise of their family. Their 
 business house, " Wood and Coal," established 
 in the early years of the Restoration, quickly 
 brought them the old-time prosperity. This is 
 the important business house which Monsieur 
 Georges Defos, the real head of the family, 
 conducted with success. Although he was, 
 at one and the same time, a member of the 
 Consistory and president of several boards, he 
 devoted a part of his time to caring for the 
 affairs of the Reformed Church. Experienced 
 merchant that he was, at once energetic and 
 adroit in the battle of commercial life, he was 
 also a thoroughgoing Christian. His religion, 
 although entirely genuine, did not prevent him 
 from keeping abreast of the times ; for God 
 has put the world into the hands of the 
 men of strong will. With his upright exact 
 nature, and with his dry rigid character, this 
 man was incapable of doing a wrong to any one, 
 especially if it were for his own advantage. 
 Instead of struggling between opposing mo- 
 tives, it usually happened that his scrupulous 
 conscience and his egotistic soul gave to each 
 other mutual support. As the head of the 
 family, he was rigid, autocratic, unsympathetic, 
 and moody ; but at the same time he was 
 well-intentioned, regardful of the rights of each 
 
 6 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of its members, capable of great devotion to 
 the common interests. As an employer, his 
 extreme severity did not prevent him from 
 exercising a watchfiil care over the welfare 
 of his workmen. In return for the sacrifices 
 which he willingly made for improving their 
 houses, their food, and the conditions of their 
 old age, he demanded of them their best efforts, 
 entire regularity in the performance of their 
 tasks, and even in their observance of relig- 
 ious duties. Indeed, in his mechanical view 
 of life, religion was an important part of the 
 complete equipment of a good house. God, 
 in this man's system, seemed to occupy an 
 elevated position, much like a superior magis- 
 trate. He believed that every person owed to 
 God a portion of his energy about equal to 
 that which a loyal citizen owes to the state. 
 He was, then, a member of the Consistory, as 
 he was of the Council General ; or, rather, he 
 would have been a member, if the electors of 
 his department had allowed it. Nobody could 
 harmonize more closely than could he the 
 claims of time and of eternity ; rendering, 
 with sternest justice, unto God that which 
 belonged to God, unto Caesar that which be- 
 longed to Caesar, and perhaps — for new 
 epochs demand new methods — rendering 
 
 7 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 unto Mammon that which belonged to Mam- 
 mon. 
 
 Meditating upon the invitation given by 
 Monsieur Defos, the good clergyman ended 
 by deciding that it was due to the celebration 
 at Montauban, and that he owed it to the 
 reflected glow which came to him from his 
 father's honors ; and this solution aroused in 
 him not the slightest bitterness, but a slight 
 feeling of scorn for the man whom he had 
 just left. Then, soothed by the movements 
 of the train, his reverie turned toward objects 
 of more immediate interest to himself: he 
 thought about his father, whom he had not 
 seen for three years ; about his brothers, now 
 scattered abroad over the world ; and about 
 his children, whose care weighed upon him 
 without ceasing. 
 
 In eight years of married life Monsieur 
 Simeon Naudie had had six children ; the two 
 eldest were welcomed with joy, the two follow- 
 ing, with increasing anxiety, and the two last, 
 with resignation. The mother, good woman 
 that she was, stood up strongly against the 
 trials of life, trusted in God, and conducted, 
 without any show of excessive economy, a very 
 large household on a very small income. 
 Whenever they grew anxious about the future, 
 
 8 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 they comforted each other by recalling the 
 blessings promised to large families. Has not 
 God said " Increase and multiply"? He cares 
 for the birds of the air. He caused the manna 
 to rain down upon the children of Israel. . . . 
 While waiting for the manna, Madame Naudie 
 found a way of providing food, by repeating from 
 time to time the miracle of the bread and the 
 fishes, with respect to clothes, shoes, and other 
 necessaries. But, one year, the croup settled 
 down upon their little nest ; three were attacked, 
 two died. Madame Naudie was in a delicate 
 condition for the seventh time, and the prema- 
 ture birth of this child caused the death of the 
 mother. Monsieur Naudie was thus left alone 
 with his four little ones, shattered by this tragic 
 sequence of sad experiences. The difficulties 
 with which he found himself all at once over- 
 taken did not allow him to resign himself to 
 fruitless grief. ■ He bore up under his sorrow 
 with that calm dignity, that serene fortitude, 
 which Christians sometimes show. Nobody 
 suspected — such were the dignity and the dis- 
 cretion of his manner — the store of energy 
 which he was compelled to expend from the first, 
 which he must needs put forth as a mournful 
 tribute, month after month and year after year, 
 as each day brought with it its train of cares. 
 
 9 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 On this very day there was added to him a 
 new burden of care. Abraham, his only boy, 
 a lad of thirteen years, strong, indolent, wilful, 
 and wayward, had barely escaped expulsion 
 from school, because of a bad book which he 
 had loaned to his companions. Urgent suppli- 
 cations availed to change into temporary sus- 
 pension the decree of expulsion which had been 
 at first pronounced ; but Monsieur Naudie 
 could still hear the irritated tones of the master, 
 as he stood for a long time unyielding, urging 
 the welfare of the class ; and the pastor's con- 
 science reproached him, as he recalled the weak 
 arguments he had used, — the boy's future 
 compromised, his shame recoiling upon his 
 family, and the scandal of the affair, all the 
 greater because of its occurrence in a clergy- 
 man's son. This last argument had been effec- 
 tive. Monsieur Naudie, however, recognized 
 it as an unsound plea. " What, then," he 
 reflected ; " if the son of my neighbor had been 
 guilty of a similar fault, he would have found 
 justice inflexible toward him, that justice which 
 has in this case conceded a point to my pro- 
 fession. That is not right; it is dangerous. 
 I ought to have allowed them to carry out 
 the deserved decision. But, then, what could 
 I have done with Abraham? What would 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 have become of him ? " He tried to excuse 
 himself for this little misuse of his pastoral 
 influence, and succeeded in satisfying his con- 
 science only by looking upon himself as a 
 widower in straitened circumstances, and as a 
 father overburdened with cares. Absorbed in 
 these disagreeable reflections, he gave scarcely 
 any attention to the day which was breaking 
 over the plains of Saintonge. It was only as 
 he arrived at Rocheport that he roused himself. 
 His fellow-passengers alighted. He scanned 
 the travellers crowded upon the platform, and 
 at once recognized the broad shoulders, the 
 perennially young appearance, and the dark 
 brown beard of his brother William, whom he 
 immediately summoned by a signal. 
 
 William Naudie, the eldest of the numerous 
 family, was, as his father remarked, its "dry 
 fruit." Variable as a vapor, fantastic, imagina- 
 tive, Bohemian in taste, he had begun his 
 career by studying law, then had turned to 
 medicine, afterward had made an attempt at 
 literature, and, finally, after various youthful 
 follies, had become stranded in the custom- 
 house. For three years he had been living in 
 Rocheport, amid the changing horde of func- 
 tionaries, civil or military. A sceptic, and a 
 cynic at times, he saw very little of any of his 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 family except Simeon, whose house he occa- 
 sionally visited for a Sunday ; at such times 
 he took great pleasure in attacking theology, 
 and to the best of his ability undermining it ; 
 if his arguments clashed with those of the 
 pastor, he was especially delighted. 
 
 William entered the train, seated himself in 
 front of his brother, and, first of all, asked 
 about the children. The narration of Abra- 
 ham's escapade, instead of arousing his in- 
 dignation, only drew from him an indulgent 
 exclamation, " Ah, the scapegrace ! " 
 
 " Besides, I believe," explained Simeon, 
 "that this was only heedlessness. Abraham 
 is by no means a wicked boy. But he makes 
 me despair of him, by reason of his idleness, 
 by the readiness with which he follows a bad 
 example, and by his morbid love of vagabond 
 ways. Now that he Is no longer under sur- 
 veillance he slips away to the wharves, plays or 
 fights with the boys there, and returns much 
 disordered. Indeed, after several reproofs, he 
 has gone out In the fishing-boats without troub- 
 ling himself as to our anxiety. Neither admo- 
 nitions nor punishments avail anything." 
 
 " He will end, perhaps," said William, " by 
 becoming a sailor. It is an occupation which 
 is as good as any." 
 
 12 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Instead of taking up this line of thought. 
 Monsieur Naudie began to sound the praises 
 of Esther, his eldest daughter; a wise little 
 housewife of fifteen years, industrious, frugal, 
 devoted, she took charge of the house as if 
 she were a grown woman, and seemed to have 
 only one aim, to help the others. 
 
 " Such a daughter as that," said he, " is a 
 blessing." 
 
 " Doubtless you are correct," replied Wil- 
 liam, " but perhaps she, for her part, would 
 prefer a little more pleasure." 
 
 " She has what she gives. Is not that the 
 higher joy ? " 
 
 " When one has satisfied his own hunger, he 
 tosses a few crumbs to the birds," said William. 
 
 Again, as before, Simeon let the whimsical 
 suggestion pass unchallenged. Then the con- 
 versation turned to the next day's celebration; 
 an occasion which would bring together at least 
 a part of the scattered members of the family. 
 
 " Which of our number are we likely to meet 
 to-morrow ? " asked William ; " do you know? " 
 
 " First of all. Marcel, now that he is here 
 in Europe." 
 
 " I dare say," remarked William, " despite 
 all the tales about his conversions among the 
 Bassoutas." 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Our brother,*' continued Simeon, " is a 
 faithful servant of the good cause. I never 
 think of him without admiring his courage 
 and devotion." 
 
 " For my part, I am in favor of leaving the 
 savages to enjoy their idols. Freedom for 
 all, I say. Then, there is Paul ; what about 
 him?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, Paul!" exclaimed Simeon, without 
 saying anything more. 
 
 In the veins of this brother the old Hugue- 
 not blood ran fiercely and fanatically. From 
 his childhood up he had shown an inclination 
 for a sort of passionate morbid mysticism. 
 Even at the age of seven he was one day 
 observed standing and waving his arms ; when 
 asked why he did this, he answered, " To fly 
 away to heaven, to the Saviour." When he 
 was studying with his brothers at Montauban, 
 and afterward at Paris, he grew indignant at 
 the follies of Protestantism. Before he was 
 consecrated he abruptly broke with the official 
 church in order to enter the service of one of 
 the evangelizing societies, whose propaganda 
 was carried on often with more zeal than dis- 
 cretion. Several years later he entered upon 
 evangelistic work in Auvergne, making use of 
 all the customary methods of saving souls, such 
 
 14 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 as healing by prayer, distributing aid to the 
 neophytes, and frequently disturbing the peace 
 of the villages ; often he was hooted after, some- 
 times he suffered physical violence, but he never 
 ceased his labors. 
 
 " See how inconsistent you are ! " said Wil- 
 liam. " You approve Marcel and you blame 
 Paul. Oh, but you do blame him ; don't deny 
 it 1 And the two are really doing the same 
 work." 
 
 "Allow me!" replied Simeon, vehemently; 
 " there is a world of difference ; besides, what- 
 ever you may think, I do not blame Paul. I 
 know that his purposes are excellent." 
 
 " Not at all," exclaimed William. " He 
 has no excellent purposes. He has only pride; 
 a boundless vanity. He is proud of being 
 better than the common run of men, proud 
 of being the only person who comprehends 
 the plans of Deity, proud of being the repre- 
 sentative of God, of taking part in his plans, 
 of speaking, and especially of condemning, in 
 his name. I shall never forget a certain ser- 
 mon which he gave me once ; he gave it to me 
 in Scriptural phraseology. ' We are the peculiar 
 children of God, who have been chosen and set 
 apart — ' Oh, the imbecile ! " 
 
 At heart, Simeon agreed with his brother; 
 IS 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 but he disliked to agree with him openly for 
 fear of strengthening in him the spirit of scep- 
 ticism. He therefore began talking about such 
 matters as he knew concerning their other 
 brothers. James, the next to the youngest, 
 now teaching in Russia, could not possibly 
 come. No more could Auguste, the young- 
 est, who had gone to Southern Africa, where 
 he had amassed riches. As for the sisters, one 
 of them, Louise, married to a Scotch clergy- 
 man, was not able to leave her husband. The 
 other, Sophie, who was teaching in America, 
 could not take so long and so expensive a 
 journey. 
 
 "We shall be reduced to our poor 'An- 
 tigone,' " remarked William. 
 
 He referred in this way to their eldest sister, 
 Angelica, a tender creature, now growing gray 
 and wrinkled, disciplined and patient, very 
 sweet, yet firm, who was utterly sacrificed to 
 her father, a very old man, for whom she cared 
 as if he were an infant, submitting to all his 
 despotic vagaries, humoring all his caprices, 
 and acting, at one and the same time, as his 
 governess, his secretary, and his nurse. She 
 was one of those admirable creatures who 
 seem to be born for self-sacrifice ; so good 
 that their virtues are overlooked, so necessary 
 16 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 to others that their services are undervalued — 
 like unseen flowers of the field, whose fra- 
 grance fills the air. 
 
 The two brothers conversed, after this fash- 
 ion, as far as Bordeaux ; where a change of 
 cars turned their thoughts into other channels. 
 After a short delay they resumed their journey 
 upon the line of the Midi, and felt inclined to 
 chat a little more cheerfully. Over the level, 
 fertile country the sun poured its joyous flood 
 of light, and high in air a few luminous clouds 
 floated across the blue sky. Two clearly out- 
 lined ranges of hills stood out in bluish tints 
 against the horizon, on the right and on the 
 left; they were dotted with groups of trees, 
 which looked like yew or cypress. Several 
 antique villages were passed, with crumbling 
 old houses grouped around a church whose 
 buttresses seemed to stretch out toward them 
 as if to afford them protection. Or, again, 
 they noted some tower, toppling under its 
 weight of years, a ruin of dislodged stones, 
 among which the roots of ivy twined them- 
 selves, like perpetual youth twining about de- 
 crepit old age. Poplars and willows looked 
 down upon the sluggish currents of the streams ; 
 some of them leaning over in fantastic atti- 
 tudes, with their trunks covered by leafy twigs. 
 
 2 17 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Others were stunted, and seemed to thrust out 
 their broken branches like clenched fists, threat- 
 ening but powerless. 
 
 J^s their journey carried them more and 
 more into regions which were familiar, the two 
 brothers felt, growing upon them, that indefina- 
 ble softening of spirit which comes to one as 
 he revisits the land of his birth, and returns to 
 that corner of the earth to which he is tied by 
 the strong cords of heredity and early associa- 
 tion. This feeling became even more touching 
 and more intense when they reached the banks 
 of the Tarn, upon whose waves they had floated 
 in the olden time, and dreamed their earliest 
 dreams. The stream meandered, as in their 
 youth, across the open- plain, reflecting in some 
 places the green color of the abundant foliage 
 on its banks, and again showing gray with the 
 grayish tint of the fallow land. Along its 
 margin were scattered, at intervals, litde brown 
 houses, from whose gardens the rich efflores- 
 cence of peach-trees burst forth, as if it were 
 keeping a festival in the springtime, as if it 
 were the harvest of the winter. 
 
 Drawn together and brought into sympathy 
 by a common instinct, the brothers began to 
 tell the beads of the rosary of memory ; again 
 they were children; an unseen, tender hand 
 
 iS 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 lifted the burden which life had laid upon 
 their shoulders, and, during this blessed mo- 
 ment of retrospect, they breathed again with 
 keen enjoyment. 
 
 " Don't you remember, William, when I 
 went a-fishing, down there, near the Albacedes 
 mUl ? " 
 
 " Well, you never caught anything." 
 
 *' Oh, yes, but I did. Why, don't you know 
 that trout, — the trout that weighed two 
 pounds ? " 
 
 " And the lesson that father gave us, about 
 gormandizing ! All the time eating it himself! 
 Ah, his example was clearer than his precepts, 
 was n't it ? " 
 
 " Oh, his precepts ! They were more diffi- 
 cult than algebra. Lucky for us, Angelica was 
 there to explain them to us." 
 
 "Then, those other lectures, my dear fel- 
 low ! About all I recall of those days is the 
 inscription which I one day discovered in the 
 waste-heap : ' Sister Clara is very eager to leave 
 the convent because . . .' How that did ap- 
 peal to our imagination ! " 
 
 " However," sighed Simeon, " we have never 
 known anything better than those delightful 
 old days." 
 
 While they chatted in this way, the village 
 19 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 drew near, — the old, bare village with its 
 weather-beaten brick walls rooted deeply in the 
 earth, and with its gloomy tower from whose 
 belfry the flight of the hours was announced 
 in solemn tones. The tower was scarred by 
 Catholic bullets, and seemed to stand as a defi- 
 ant memorial of battles and sieges, awaiting 
 always the coming of some enemy, ready to 
 resist, and protect its sanctity. The two men, 
 who had not set eyes upon it for many years, 
 saluted it with deep feeling, and were barely 
 able to speak. Then, as they looked out of 
 the window, they perceived upon the platform 
 their father awaiting them. There he stood, 
 straight and robust, under the weight of his 
 seventy-five years, really grand, with his long 
 white patriarchal beard, and with a stern 
 beauty of countenance which recalled some of 
 Da Vinci's meditative old men. Standing at his 
 left was Angelica, in the attentive attitude now 
 habitual with her, a genial smile irradiating her 
 gentie but worn face. At his right. Marcel 
 could be seen, the living image of his father, a 
 bit reduced in size, with beard a trifle less pro- 
 fuse, and of a bright blond tint, the color 
 seeming to be burnt in by the heat of the 
 tropics. Paul, the evangelist, whose presence 
 there surprised the new-comers, kept a position 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 a few paces distant from the little group, as if 
 with deliberate intention. He seemed to be- 
 long to a different order of beings, with his 
 spare form, thin cheeks, angular features, close- 
 shaven square chin, and nose like the beak of 
 some night-bird. 
 
 They greeted one another, and all embraced, 
 with the exception of Paul, whose thin lips 
 hardly separated enough to utter a welcome ; 
 then they exchanged a thousand broken phrases 
 and confused ejaculations. Passers-by saluted 
 them ; they recognized countenances of the 
 olden time. And as they walked out of the 
 railway station, Simeon exclaimed, as if he had 
 been a school-boy coming home for a holiday, 
 "Ah, how good it is to be back again ! How 
 delightful to return home once more ! " 
 
 21 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE Naudie family were quite as much at 
 home in Montauban as were the Defos 
 family in La Rochelle. As early as the dawn of 
 the Reformation their name was to be seen in 
 the town records. A Naudie was among those 
 first converts to the new faith who, after con- 
 cealing their heretical beliefs for a long time, 
 dared to make them manifest at the burial of 
 one of their number, on the 13th of January, 
 1560, under the very eyes of the consuls, who, 
 although a little timid, were very favorably dis- 
 posed. From this date onward, the name of 
 Naudie figured, like a red line worked into 
 the fabric of all the stirring events which 
 characterized the turbulent town during two 
 centuries, — threatening resolutions, rebellions, 
 temporary discouragements, heroism, intrigues, 
 exaltation. One of the three ministers who 
 dared counsel resistance, when Montluc ap- 
 peared, and the military leaders urged capitu- 
 lation, was named Jacques Naudie. During 
 the siege which followed, another Naudie re- 
 ceived an important order, as may be seen by 
 referring to the forty-ninth folio of the Rhymed 
 22 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Records of Montauban' s Misfortune; where, we 
 are told, of three banners which were raised 
 for the more efficient leadership of the people, 
 one was put in charge of a certain " Naudie." 
 
 A Naudie (perhaps the same man) was con- 
 sul in 1593, when it became necessary to take 
 action upon the murder of the noble captains 
 who were imprisoned by the citizens, to indem- 
 nify their widows, and to make full reparation. 
 Another member of the family took part in the 
 siege of 1621, and afterward married Martha 
 Carnus, a heroine of twenty-two years, who, 
 under the eye of Louis XIII., spiked one of 
 the cannon of the constable of Luynes. After 
 the town capitulated, and the Protestant party 
 was finally defeated, the Naudies shared the lot 
 of their fellow-believers, constant and faithful, 
 tossed about in alternations of hope and despair. 
 Their family registry records an incident very 
 characteristic of these sad years. In 1775 Jean 
 Naudie had four dragoons quartered at his 
 house. He soon found himself unable to 
 satisfy their demands ; and he went to ask of 
 the king's agent that he be excused from this 
 duty. 
 
 " On one condition," replied this officer : 
 " you must promise that you will live and die 
 in the Catholic faith." 
 
 23 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " I cannot do that," said Jean Naudie. 
 
 " Why not, inasmuch as the king commands 
 it?" 
 
 "If the sultan were to quarter in my house 
 twenty janissaries, would I then be compelled 
 to turn Turk ? " 
 
 In the middle of the eighteenth century a 
 Naudie was one of those "pastors of the 
 desert," as they were called ; oppressed per- 
 sons who wandered about with no secure re- 
 treat, holding services in caves and forests, 
 hunted by the so-called " Faithful," as if they 
 had been wild beasts. At about the same time 
 a branch of the family — the only one that be- 
 came firmly established — repudiated its former 
 policy of antagonism, made a fortune in some 
 dye-works, and yielded to the temptation of 
 worldly ease. One of these people expresses 
 regret, in his will, that he fell back into this 
 disgraceful reconciliation with the others, and 
 that he embraced or pretended to embrace 
 the Catholic faith. Three generations later, 
 the decline of business in Montauban checked 
 their prosperity so completely that Abraham 
 Naudie, reared in luxury, found himself un- 
 able to live except upon his modest salary as 
 professor of theology, and by some slen- 
 der rentals, and his house of Villebourbon. 
 24 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 This house was an old structure, facing the 
 quai; and was built, for the larger part, over 
 the cellars and vaults where, in old times, the 
 fugitive dyers worked. The huge apartments 
 of this ancient mansion were fitted up with 
 furniture which was very old-fashioned but ex- 
 tremely beautiful. Here the theologian dwelt, 
 and never gave a thought to his careful, pains- 
 taking wife, whose entire life (her children were 
 now grown up and gone out into the world) 
 was devoted to sparing him all sensations ; his 
 daughter Angelica also wore out her life in the 
 same effort. As for his sons, their hold on life 
 was very slender, and they were in a fair way to 
 perish before they were able to explain to him 
 their perplexities. He was thus left free to 
 develop himself, like one of those mighty 
 oaks which sometimes stand in a clearing, sur- 
 rounded at some distance by saplings. And, for 
 a third of a century, he was justly looked upon 
 as one of the grandest types of Protestantism 
 in his generation. 
 
 This man was at home upon the dim fron- 
 tiers of thought, and he often illumined them 
 by his own brilliant ideas. He was a strong 
 writer, tending to fine-spun logical processes, 
 put forth in a rather obscure style, and he often 
 expressed his thought in images and symbols. 
 
 25 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 There could be no question but that he had 
 exercised a great influence over his contempo- 
 raries ; and, among his many volumes on exe- 
 gesis, ecclesiastical history, and morals, some 
 had really made their mark in the world. In a 
 word, Abraham Naudie was a theologian of a 
 unique kind ; mystical, zealous, bold, indepen- 
 dent, he never began upon any subject without 
 shaking it thoroughly in the sieve of his crit- 
 ical reason ; and often reason seemed about 
 to triumph, but, at the appeal of religion, 
 suddenly betook itself to flight. Thus the 
 unexpected inconsistencies in his logic were 
 indications of the spiritual duel which went pn 
 between his loyalty to the faith and his free 
 spirit of inquiry ; and these inconsistencies often 
 disconcerted even his most devoted admirers. 
 After he published his " History of the Apos- 
 tle Peter," he was thought to lean toward Rome; 
 and there was considerable solicitude felt in the 
 higher circles of the Reformed Church ; but, 
 later, in a " Study of the Christian Humanists," 
 he stood forth as the zealous defender of the 
 Reformation, in history ; and this attitude was 
 again taken by him, in his ringing " Reply to 
 Jean Janssen." Between these two publica- 
 tions he issued " Dialogues upon Actual Ques- 
 tions ; " and this work made some people fear 
 26 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 lest he should fall into free thought; but, on 
 the other hand, he had expressly opposed free 
 thought, in his " Essay on Faith." During all 
 these years, this apparent instability on his part 
 served to bring upon him many reproaches ; 
 but, at the end of his career, when his system 
 appeared in its entirety, there was clearly present 
 in it a firm, consistent unity of thought. De- 
 spite its temporary contradictions and turnings 
 and unexpected teachings, its audacities and its 
 timidities, it really formed one completed circle, 
 and a very large circle, within which rested much 
 careful, fruitful meditation ; and this system 
 moved straight on toward truth, without halting 
 at any obstacles, yet commenting wisely on the 
 transitory appearances of things. Among all his 
 readers there were a few of his more penetrating 
 pupils who saw that if the implications of his 
 thought were carried out logically, he adhered 
 to Protestantism more by tradition than by con- 
 viction. The ties of a revered past held him 
 to the beliefs of his ancestors, despite the leaps 
 of his imagination and the bold advances of his 
 logic. 
 
 The vexations, the controversies, and the 
 
 enmities which this man had sustained during 
 
 his long career were forgotten in the joyous 
 
 festival which now had come to him. Sur- 
 
 27 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 rounded by his colleagues, his pupils, by dele- 
 gates of Protestant Faculties, by theologians 
 and philosophers, Abraham Naudie was almost 
 overwhelmed by the showers of addresses, 
 telegrams, resolutions presented in leather cases, 
 and diplomas on vellum, naming him, honoris 
 causa, for professorships in a dozen universities 
 of two worlds. At times he seemed to totter 
 under the weight of so many eulogies ; his 
 feelings made his lips tremble or his eyes 
 moisten. Then he quickly recovered himself, 
 and, standing firmly erect, grasped his long 
 beard, as was his wont, and smiled with an air 
 of irony. And this smile was, doubtless, his 
 revenge for the bitter memories of attacks and 
 abuse heaped upon him in former years, because 
 of his earnest search for truth. 
 
 A long day of receptions could not exhaust 
 either his freshness or his brilliancy. In the 
 evening a banquet was given in his honor ; and 
 when he rose to respond to the many compli- 
 mentary speeches, he stood firmly, confidently, 
 and spoke with a brilliancy of improvisation 
 which the university never before had witnessed. 
 With that mingling of reserve and good-fellow- 
 ship, of genius and simplicity, which always 
 characterized him, Abraham Naudie reviewed 
 the events of the century as he had witnessed 
 28 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 them and taken part in them, a period of time 
 in which his own life had been an episode, and 
 to which his thought had been a valued con- 
 tribution. Meanwhile his admirers, his friends, 
 his sons, were grouped about him, and they 
 felt at times as if they were lifted to the 
 summit of a mountain, breathing the rarefied 
 air of a great height, and looking down upon 
 the mancEuvres of a vast army scattered over 
 the plain below. 
 
 " My earliest recollections," he said, " date 
 from the famine of 1817. I committed at that 
 time my first piece of foolishness. I split 
 with a knife a sieve which was used in our 
 house for sifting or bolting wheat. That was 
 the time when Louis XVIII. made his mistake 
 about the desires of his people and about his 
 role of constitutional monarch. And from 
 that time on I have moved from folly to folly, 
 keeping pace with the century, which moved 
 from error to error." 
 
 They were all marshalled in order, all the 
 errors, with the illusions, hopes, expectations 
 which led up to them, the enthusiasms which 
 upheld them, and the deceptions and regrets 
 which inevitably followed. The doctrinaires 
 of the Restoration, the Utopians of 1848, 
 the republicans of the second empire, the 
 29 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 socialists of the third republic, as also those 
 of imperial Germany, — all these could be 
 seen, called up by certain words which gave 
 them life ; the dreamers, the rationalists, the 
 philosophers, the charlatans, men of theories 
 and men of action, poets, savants, and adven- 
 turers, — all this train of chimera-hunters, these 
 gamblers in futures, these venders of empty 
 hopes. And always close by them, as they 
 passed in review, seemed to pass also one 
 who studied them and judged them, — the 
 grand old man, who resembled, as he stood 
 there, the traditional figure of Time ; and pic- 
 turesquely did he unite his recital of simple 
 daily deeds with narration of more sonorous 
 exploits, which he deftly labelled "vanities," 
 and passed quickly over. 
 
 " I recollect," continued he, "an ascent which 
 I made of the Alps, in July, 1830, with a friend, 
 who became later a pharmacist in Montpellier. 
 Standing on a lofty peak, we saw the sun rise, 
 and we likened ourselves to Charles X. ; and 
 the vapors which strove against it seemed to 
 represent the masses of the people rising to 
 attack the monarchy." 
 
 At last, after he had thus run through the 
 enormous book, whose final pages his finger 
 could not turn, the old professor gathered up 
 30 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 all his observations and reflections, to direct 
 them, with the gaze of a prophet, toward the 
 mystery of the future. 
 
 " This much I have said, friends ; I have 
 observed many events, plain, unpretentious 
 man as I am. Now, although my sight has 
 become dim with age, I still love to look 
 around me. And what do I see ? Alas ! a 
 most chaotic state of affairs. Among the upper 
 classes an enormous industrial and commercial 
 development, with wealth accumulated to a 
 point of undervaluing it; while, among the 
 lower classes, misery pesters and threatens na- 
 tions who prepare for war (while they swear 
 that they wish for peace) ; and peoples hungry 
 for order and union. I observe learned men who 
 make many discoveries — discoveries which are 
 merely the application of the commonest prin- 
 ciples — and these discoveries and inventions 
 pretend to make life easier, but really compli- 
 cate it, without meeting one of the deeper needs 
 of the soul. What will be the outcome of it 
 all ? I cannot say. You will see it, you young 
 men who are to move forward into the future. 
 As for me, whom you have so honored here 
 to-day, my life is bound up in the past; 
 and I know not exactly why, but I long to 
 arm and equip you for the strife which is 
 31 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 before you. But there ! I find, at the bottom 
 of all my experience, as an old man, this plain 
 counsel, — Be men of high ideals 1 for they 
 are the men whom God loves, they are the 
 men whom he leads toward the best things. 
 And It is to all such that I drink this glass 
 of good wine which you have placed in my 
 hand." 
 
 Thus spake old Abraham Naudie. From 
 him, on all sides, his sons radiated, like shafts 
 of light kindled by his brilliancy. Paul alone, 
 thin, shrivelled, seemed to show restlessness 
 and dissatisfaction. Evangelist that he was, 
 this picture of the century was altogether too 
 coldly philosophical, neglected too much the 
 factor of divine intervention, and was wholly 
 lacking in tirades against Rome. Among the 
 listeners there were doubtless many, who, if 
 they had reflected, would have agreed with 
 him. But, intoxicated by the address, by its 
 suggestiveness, and by their respect for the 
 speaker, they did not reflect; and, forgetting 
 their contentions and their sects and parties, 
 they applauded to the echo the wise old man 
 whose range of view transcended their horizon. 
 
 The next day the last remaining delegates 
 went away during the forenoon, and the patri- 
 arch with his four sons came together for a 
 32 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 quiet family dinner before they separated. All 
 of them resembled their father, and seemed 
 like more or less perfect copies of a model too 
 lofty to be quite equalled, however closely it 
 might be approached. The paternal imagina- 
 tion was reproduced in Marcel, the missionary ; 
 though a little brutalized, as if it lacked in 
 him the regulative power of reflection. Wil- 
 liam had his father's irony, but with less deli- 
 cacy, and his spontaneity, though not in so 
 abundant a measure. If you studied Paul, 
 you sooner or later saw, in the length of his 
 profile, despite its dryness and sharpness, a 
 certain family resemblance. As for Simeon, 
 who was almost as large as his father, though 
 more slender, and with black beard a little thin- 
 ner and shorter, he was, after all, his father's 
 living image ; he had less of genius, but more 
 sweetness. He had a dull olive complexion, 
 his features were as regular as those of a medal, 
 and his great dark eyes gleamed with fire. 
 A few tufts of black hair, shot through with 
 silver, fringed his bald head ; his forehead 
 was expansive, lofty, broad, striking, and was 
 lined with veins which swelled and throbbed 
 under the pressure of a great thought. He 
 had the forehead of a poet, the forehead of 
 a prophet ; which had made people credit him, 
 3 33 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 during his studies, with being the intellectual 
 heir of his father; but it concealed, however, 
 only mediocre faculties and average intelli- 
 gence, combined with honesty and patience and 
 courage. 
 
 After this last meal together, they took coffee 
 in the library. Their father dozed, comfortably 
 installed in his big armchair, and smoking his 
 pipe of Marseilles clay with its long reed stem. 
 Angelica distributed the cups and offered the 
 sugar, with that quiet gentle way which always 
 gave to her movements an air of great seren- 
 ity. She paused, in front of Simeon and asked, 
 " Are you really going^ this afternoon, my dear 
 brother? Can, you, not allow yourself one 
 more holiday ? " 
 
 " It is impossible," replied Simeon. " I have 
 my sermon to look after. Besides, I have been 
 three days on this journey, and you know 
 that I never dare to remain away longer than 
 that." 
 
 William broke in: "^^Oh yes! the children 1 
 See what comes of having a lot of children! 
 There is no such thing as freedom." 
 
 " You have scarcely mentioned them to us," 
 said Angelica, "We have had so little time 
 for personal conversation during this entire 
 celebration. So tell us the news I " 
 34 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 Abraham Naudie was following the conver- 
 sation without seeming to, for he half opened 
 his eyes and asked' in a sleepy voice, " What 
 has become ... of my . . . godson ? " 
 
 "Ah, your godson," replied Simeon, who 
 hardly desired at such a time to speak of the dis- 
 graceful doings of the boy, "your godson gives 
 me a great deal of trouble. I don't know whether 
 he is merely heedless or is really vicious ; in 
 either case he is a hard child to manage." 
 
 " Probably you are too easy with him," sug- 
 gested Paul, always ready to blame somebody. 
 
 Marcel was more kindly disposed, and 
 added, " Probably his sisters spoil him." 
 
 " I do as well as I can," said Simeon, " and 
 so do his sisters. Oh, they don't resemble 
 him in the least. They are good little girls, 
 especially Esther, who has' had considerable 
 experience. Bertha is the only one at all 
 troublesome ..." 
 
 "With the tender sympathy of her heart Angel- 
 ica divined thoughts which her brother had not 
 expressed ; and she exclaimed, " My poor dear 
 brother, you have indeed a great deal of care." 
 
 "There is no doubt," said Simeon, "that 
 the position of a widower, with four little ones, 
 brings cares ; but, I assure you^, God helps me 
 greatly." 
 
 35 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 At this point Abraham Naudie asked, out 
 of his half-asleep state, "You have never 
 thought ... of marrying again ? " 
 
 Simeon smiled. " I marry again ? At my 
 age ? With four children ? " 
 
 The old man shook oiFthe ashes from his 
 pipe and went on : " Why not ? It is pre- 
 cisely when one has such burdens as yours 
 that he ought not to remain alone. At the 
 dawn of life, it is well to pause, before entering 
 into the married state ; but when once the fire 
 has been kindled on the hearth, a woman is 
 needed to care for it. The older your girls 
 grow, the more need they have of a mother." 
 
 " I have always believed," said Paul, " that 
 for the man who has pledged himself to the 
 service of God, the family is, or soon becomes, 
 a hindrance. A man must not parcel himself 
 out. With children and a wife, that takes up 
 too large a part of a man's heart." 
 
 Abraham Naudie had never been able to 
 urge his views with calmness. Even the most 
 tactful opposition roused him to fury. His 
 face became purple ; he glared at Paul with a 
 look of irritation, and thundered, in that for- 
 midable voice which he used in his lectures 
 when confuting the sophistries of Renan or 
 Strauss : " There is nothing better than the 
 36 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 family, nothing more sound or sacred. God 
 does not wish to keep anybody out of it. 
 Every man has a right to the love of wife 
 and to the affection of children, just as he 
 has a right to the air or to the light. The 
 hearthstone is blessed. It quiets the storms 
 of the soul, as also those of the heart ; it is the 
 condition necessary for pure reflections. Do 
 you not know Schleiermacher's charming 
 apologue ? So long as man was alone with 
 nature, the Eternal towered far above him, and 
 spoke to him in various ways; but man did 
 not understand, and made no reply. Eden 
 was beautiful, like unto a radiance of glory let 
 down from heaven ; but man had no clear per- 
 ception of nature, and his own soul revealed 
 nothing to him. However, oppressed by the 
 solitude, he trained the animals to bear him 
 company. Then the Eternal saw that man, 
 in so far as he was alone, could not gain a true 
 apprehenison of the universe ; for that reason 
 he gave to him a companion similar to him- 
 self. Immediately joy throbbed in the breast 
 of Adam, his eyes were opened, and he really 
 saw the world. In the flesh of his flesh and 
 bone of his bone he discovered humanity, 
 and he discovered the universe ; he now be- 
 came capable of understanding the voice of the 
 37 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Eternal, and of replying to him; and even his 
 extremest violation of the sacred command- 
 ments was not sufficient to sever the tie which 
 united him to the Eternal. Such is our his^ 
 tory ; the history of us all. Nothing exists 
 for the man who is alone, and he can see 
 nothing in its true meaning; because, if he 
 would comprehend the Eternal, if he would un- 
 derstand religion, he must first find humanity ; 
 and this he can find only in love and by love." 
 
 Paul sat listening and gnawing his lips ; his 
 manner indicated that he utterly disagreed ; he 
 refrained, however, from replying. 
 
 " I look upon this matter as our father 
 does," said Marcel, who always took hold of 
 ideas on their practical side. " A solitary man 
 is an incomplete being. Whatever his func- 
 tions may be, it is necessary that he have a 
 companion, a woman, if he is to attain his full 
 stature and reach his limit of effort." 
 
 " But," interposed William, "where will you 
 find a woman capable of assuming . . . ? " 
 
 Angelica did not suffer him to finish his re- 
 mark. " My dear brother," she exclaiijied with 
 warmth, " you know nothing about women." 
 
 Then she continued : " Or, at least, you 
 have no idea of the rich stores of devotion 
 which the best of them hold in reserve. And 
 
 38 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 be assured of this, that the very difficulty of 
 undertaking grave household cares would be, 
 to many women, a prospect more alluring than 
 any prospects of personal selfish happiness. 
 What could any woman imagine that would 
 be nobler than to act as mother to orphan 
 children?" 
 
 " I am convinced," said Simeon, " that there 
 are such women, but I have never met one." 
 
 William maliciously went a step beyond. 
 " Simeon never will find this pearl, my good 
 Angelica," said he. " Why, then, do you urge 
 him to look for her? " 
 
 Angelica replied, with tender gravity and 
 with an air of conviction, " God sends his 
 angels whithersoever it pleases him." 
 
 " So, then," William went on, " a good 
 wife will be a gift from God ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly 1 " replied Angelica. 
 " Everything that comes to us is a gift from 
 God." 
 
 William gave way to his mischievous incli- 
 nations, and said: "How about the bad wives? 
 There are such creatures to be found, you must 
 admit. Where do they come from ? " 
 
 They had reason to suppose that their father 
 was fast asleep, for he had stopped smoking, 
 and his eyes were closed ; but at this point in 
 39 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 the conversation he opened his eyes, and mur- 
 mured, as if in a dream : " Problem ! Problem ! 
 We know nothing . . . and yet we must 
 believe." 
 
 This brief speech ended the discussion. 
 Abraham Naudie made good use of the mo- 
 mentary silence which followed, by going to 
 sleep again ; his calm features, his abundant 
 head of hair, like a crown, and his long white 
 beard sweeping down over his breast, — these 
 suggested the emperor in the legend, who 
 waits through the centuries for the solemn 
 hour of his awakening. 
 
 Angelica approached her father softly, to pick 
 up the pipe which had dropped from his lips ; 
 and Marcel murmured, " Poor father ! " 
 
 One tender, anxious thought was in all their 
 minds, but nobody else expressed it. 
 
 Little by little, however, they roused them- 
 selves, and began to talk together in a low 
 voice. Marcel, when asked his opinion about 
 the new countries whither he had carried the 
 gospel, went on in such a way that you would 
 have taken him for a political economist rather 
 than a missionary. He was more interested 
 in the destiny of our civilized races than con- 
 cerned for the salvation of savage tribes. And 
 it was easy to see that his thought was simply 
 40 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 this, — to conquer the dark continent for the 
 good of European races ; to give them more 
 room, and establish their sway for all time. 
 
 " God is in it," he exclaimed, with sup- 
 pressed exaltation of soul. " That is the place 
 to call forth courage and energy. The out- 
 casts of our land have only to follow us; there 
 they shall find what is here denied them, — 
 bread which they have vainly sought, freedom 
 which they love, and gold for which they have 
 longed." 
 
 Paul did not like this zeal, which seemed 
 to him materialistic and almost blasphemous. 
 He remarked that, according to this view of 
 Marcel's, the Christian races ought not to dream 
 of carrying light to their ignorant fellow-crea- 
 tures, but rather of seizing their lands and 
 their wealth. 
 
 Simeon must have been reflecting that life 
 in those warm countries is probably easier for 
 everybody ; he said in a low voice, as if speak- 
 ing to himself, and desiring to express only 
 a part of his thought, "It must be a good 
 place for those who emigrate young." 
 
 And Marcel carried out his idea : " Or for 
 those who have suffered, or those who are 
 eager for an active life, or those who are glad 
 to forget the past." 
 
 41 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SIMEON NAUDlfi returned at night to 
 La Rochelle, and could get only a short 
 sleep. The noises in the house disturbed him. 
 He was aware that only a brief period of time 
 remained, in which he must look over the notes 
 of his sermon ; and he hastened downstairs to 
 ask his daughters for his usual morning cup of 
 tea. Esther, his eldest, was the only one up. 
 She wore a blue wrapper, simple and tasteful ; 
 and she was almost pretty, with her frank eyes 
 which rarely smiled, her rather large mouth, 
 pure and serious, and her luxuriant chestnut hair 
 with its golden gleams, hanging in a large braid 
 down her back. Large for her years, as she 
 was, she stood up bravely under the double 
 burden of her rapid growth and her hand-to- 
 hand struggle with the trials of the household. 
 This continuous strain, shutting her out from 
 all relaxation, gave her an air of severity and 
 almost sulkiness ; and it encased her in an 
 armor of reserve and even coldness, which 
 quite concealed her really alert nature and pas- 
 sionate temperament. Her sisters, her brother, 
 and even her father never read the secrets of 
 42 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 her silent heart. To them she was simply 
 somebody to be consulted, somebody to be 
 given control of affairs, somebody to whom 
 one could run in time of danger; a person 
 whose devotion was accepted by thera uncon- 
 sciously, because the habit of accepting it had 
 become firmly rooted. 
 
 As she attended to her father's wants, Esther 
 informed herself regarding the journey and the 
 celebrations. He, in his turn, asked what had 
 transpired during his absence. Nothing, ex- 
 cept a violent quarrel between Abraham and 
 Berth-a. When Simeon asked his daughter 
 the cause of this quarrel, she only shrugged 
 her shoulders and said, " Oh, nothing ! " 
 
 At that moment Bertha entered. She came 
 in like a whirlwind. She was thirteen years 
 old; but even at that age she showed a 
 passionate, tempestuous nature. There were 
 gleams of fire in her great black eyes ; her 
 very hair seemed to vibrate with energy as it 
 tossed upon her delicate shoulders, and the 
 clear-cut lines of her features were as restless 
 as ripples on the sea. Sometimes she was in- 
 dolent and sometimes active ; at times she was 
 fitful, wilful, sulky, and would bury herself 
 through entire days in savage taciturnity ; 
 then suddenly she would overflow with spirits, 
 43 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 and show strong affection. She was like a 
 little Fate, holding momentous mysteries. 
 Standing in the doorway, the full memory of 
 the scene the evening before came over her, 
 as she had dwelt upon it and amplified it ; 
 and she exclaimed, holding out her hands 
 with a theatrical gesture, " Papa, papa, just 
 think what . . ." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie hastened to break in upon 
 her, with that quiet, firm manner which alone he 
 opposed to the violent outbursts of his daugh- 
 ter. " No, Bertha, you know I do not take 
 sides in your wrangles. You are always both 
 wrong." 
 
 He went out, and Bertha's gaze followed 
 him, with a tragic expression in it; then she 
 seated herself before her cup of tea and buried 
 her head in her hands in an attitude of despair. 
 Esther looked on; all this fury was incom- 
 prehensible to her rational nature, and she was 
 scornful of it. 
 
 Before he went into his study. Monsieur 
 Naudie entered again his children's rooms, in 
 order to embrace little Zelia, whom the nurse 
 was dressing. The little fresh rosy child, with 
 her blond head and her vivacious ways, brought 
 light into the household ; indeed, she was the 
 only one who really lived a child's life. All 
 44 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 in the house conspired to purvey joy for her, 
 freedom from care, and many of those little 
 indulgences of which their own lives had felt 
 the lack. In return, she scattered gayety 
 around her with her prattle ; affection welled 
 up from her tender heart, as did the fresh 
 kisses to her lips. These were the ornaments 
 of childhood, which can arise only from a 
 sweet, pure nature. Between her father and 
 herself there was an especial sympathy, which 
 was almost strange. When he held her on his 
 lap, he seemed to become young again; she 
 seemed to understand him and to be able to 
 console him. She kissed her hands to him, as 
 he entered ; he took her up in his arms, and 
 made ready to listen to her narration of all the 
 mighty events in her little life; but, at that 
 moment, a noise in an adjoining room attracted 
 his attention. Almost at the same instant he 
 heard footsteps on the staircase. He at once 
 suspected that Abraham was in full flight ; and 
 he tried to call to him from the upper land- 
 ing, " Abraham ! Abraham ! Where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 The sound of a hastily closed door was all the 
 reply he got. He threw open a window. The 
 fugitive had disappeared under a row of arches ; 
 there was no possibility of calling him back. 
 45 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was much troubled by this 
 incident ; it reawakened in him all the anxieties 
 which his wilful boy had caused him. He 
 could not, although pressed for time, quite 
 settle down to his work ; and, with a troubled 
 and heavy spirit, he walked up and down the 
 floor of his study. This was a room with an 
 alcove, and was furnished with a desk, a round 
 table, and a few chairs, including one or two' 
 straw armchairs, covered with Indian saddle- 
 cloth. Three or four hundred volumes, chiefly 
 bound in cloth, rested on some white wooden 
 shelves. A few dark-toned lithographsj after 
 Ary Scheffer and Paul Delaroche, adorned the 
 walls; while upon the mantel, between two- 
 vases of very ordinary make, mused an ex- 
 quisite Penseroso in bronze, a present from a 
 group of grateful pupils. The two windows 
 of the room — two fine old mullioned windows^ 
 obscured by white curtains — -opened upon the 
 Rue de Merciers ; the houses of this quaint old 
 street seemed, each, to have an individuality of 
 its own, and, in their widely varying styleSj 
 served very well to indicate the varying stages 
 of the town's history. There, first of all, at 
 the head of the street, stood the modest dwell- 
 ing of Jean Guiton, having no other ornament 
 than a plate upon which was inscribed the fatal 
 46 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 date of the last mayor. Three or four houses 
 with more imposing fa9ades came next ; these 
 bore several tasteful ideas sketched over the 
 doorways; then some grotesque figures were 
 scattered, haphazard, among the window-spaces 
 of the first floors, and other figures and foliage 
 were added in abundance, quite up to the large 
 gargoyles near the roofs. In such buildings 
 as these, where they have been rebuilt or too 
 zealously restored, the^ purer classical taste 
 triumphs, with its acanthus motives, even to 
 its corbellings of four or five constructions in 
 slate. These are the very ancient structures, 
 upon which have fallen all the missiles of many 
 sieges, which date back of the religious wars 
 and even back of the rise of the Reformation. 
 Rigid, heavy, massive, with here, and there in 
 front a round window, like the eye of a Cyclops, 
 they have the appearance of poor old men, 
 infirm, worn, yet obstinately refusing to give 
 up -y and one finds himself sometimes standing 
 before them with a certain respect, such as he 
 might feel for old workmen worn out by tail, 
 for old peasants broken by hard work. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie was proud of this outlook upon 
 the street, so suggestive of the valiant little 
 town's vigorous yet often desolate past, an ex- 
 pression of the architeeture and the. spirit of 
 47 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 olden days. Many a time he forgot himself, as 
 he stood and gazed at it, and lived in fancy 
 through those heroic days when newly ennobled 
 governors went forth from the city-hall ; then, 
 a few steps beyond, where the thirty-seven 
 pastors, influential and venerated, shared with 
 them the honor of steering, upon its quartz 
 sea, the golden vessel which bore the noble 
 device Servator rectore Deo. 
 
 On this day, however, these memorials of 
 struggle and glory stirred not at all the pastor's 
 emotions. His glance wandered aimlessly up 
 and down the street, or fell unheedingly among 
 the corridors and arches. He was thinking 
 about that boy of his, to whom he was able to 
 give so little attention, when only the strictest 
 surveillance could suffice to correct his wilful 
 nature ; indeed, the counsel of his father and 
 sister seemed to go in at one ear and out at the 
 other. 
 
 A distant clock struck eight; the sound 
 recalled Monsieur Naudie to the exigencies of 
 the present, and he seated himself at his desk 
 where the notes of his sermon awaited him. 
 Before he had set out on his journey, he had 
 selected — as he sometimes did, in case of need 
 — froni his old sermons ; and this material he 
 now began to look over. 
 48 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The sermon selected dated from the days 
 of his seminary course, and was composed, 
 according to good homiletical rules, upon the 
 sixth chapter of St. Matthew. " No man can 
 serve two masters ; for either he will hate the 
 one and love the other, or else he will hold 
 to the one and despise the other: ye cannot 
 serve God and mammon." The skeleton of 
 this discourse, written out on the first page, 
 was extremely simple, and capable of being 
 worked out very easily. 
 
 Exordium. — Our life belongs to two different 
 masters, whose service is incompatible the one 
 with the other ; between these two we are free to 
 choose, and we are obliged to choose. Who are 
 th^se two masters ? God and mammon {that is, 
 the world). 
 
 I, That which we call "the service of the 
 world" its insatiable demands, its hollowness, the 
 pain it causes us, the hopelessness to which it 
 brings us. 
 
 II. That which we call the " service of God," 
 its blessedness, its comfort and peace, its promises. 
 
 Peroration. — Why hesitate ? God is the one 
 who must be loved, if the seductive snares of the 
 world are to be avoided. Rewards of those who 
 make this choice, both in this life and in the life 
 beyond. 
 
 4 49 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 These developments of the theme were 
 enriched with Biblical citations and by a few 
 excellent figures of rhetoric When he read 
 over this discourse, in the hurry of his depart- 
 ure on the journey, Monsieur Naudie did not 
 notice its weak points ; now they struck him 
 suddenly and forcibly. He compared its ab- 
 stract mode of thought, its absolute affirmations, 
 and its simple conclusions, with his experience 
 of life and the incidents which had come to 
 him personally. And, looked at in this way, 
 the discourse seemed to him unsound ; it seemed 
 to him built upon false foundations; and he 
 regretted selecting it. " Alas ! " exclaimed he, 
 as he turned the yellow pages, covered with his 
 youthful handwriting, "the reality of things 
 gives, each day, cruel contradictions to these fal- 
 lacious theories, Jesus, who drove the traders 
 from the temple, was single-minded in his lofty 
 service of God ; but with the rest of us, prac- 
 tically, the service of God and mammon is 
 intermingled. The higher things succumb. 
 Even those men whose lives are consecrated to 
 the service of God allow their high resolves to 
 be vitiated by unworthy aims and interests. 
 Indeed, my own life is invaded and weakened 
 by just such things, for I am even now con- 
 ceding to these same temporal interests a por- 
 50 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tion of my life, when I am on the point of 
 going to preach in God's house. Dare I 
 affirm that my father, high-minded as he is, 
 has been wholly and absolutely free from 
 every possible worldly consideration and earthly 
 ambition ? Paul certainly showed a consid- 
 erable element of pride mixed with his apos- 
 tolic zeal ; and Marcel, who started out under 
 a grand burst of devotion, seems to be quite 
 as solicitous for the advances of secular civil- 
 ized life as for those of his religious faith. 
 Everywhere around me I see men, even the 
 most upright of them, living in tacit com- 
 promise between laws of life which Christ pro- 
 nounced antagonistic, incompatible. For me 
 to preach to them about ceasing this com- 
 promise with sin, as 1 have written it here in 
 my childish sermon, why, it is a waste of time, 
 a throwing away of the brief hour which they 
 set apart for listening to me. The only appeal 
 that can reach them is some truth more prosaic, 
 closer to them, more practical, less abstract. 
 Alas ! as I try to teach them what they ought 
 to be, I must not forget what they are." 
 
 These reflections led Monsieur Naudie to 
 
 make sundry corrections in the material of his 
 
 sermon ; and he was busily engaged in these 
 
 alterations when Esther opened the door 
 
 SI 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 slighdy, in order to say, " Come, father ! It 
 is time to go ; we are all ready." 
 
 " Very well. Go along, and I- will foUow," 
 he said ; and in a few moments he was walking 
 rapidly after them. 
 
 The congregation was thin. About a hun- 
 dred faithful ones sat waiting on the benches. 
 The huge hall was devoid of decoration, from 
 floor to ceiling, except the garnet-colored vel- 
 vet of the pulpit, and the black tablets on 
 which were indicated the order of services for 
 the day. 
 
 However, Monsieur Naudie's sole rival for 
 the attention of his auditors was the bright 
 spring-time sun; the "Dissenters" had not 
 yet taken root in La Rochelle; this church 
 was the only home of the old-time respectabil- 
 ity of the town, the sole asylum of that ancient 
 faith which made heroic magistrates, which 
 kindled a spirit of devotion in navigators and 
 traders, and armed for defence even the women 
 themselves. Moreover, these faithful attend- 
 ants on public worship were not all of as fer- 
 vent a spirit as could be desired; there were 
 rich merchants, hard-working, economical ; ab- 
 sorbed in their business affairs, watchful of any 
 wasteful expenditure ; many of them responded 
 to the summons of the church bells with luke- 
 
 £2 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 warm convictions, led by the feeling that it is 
 the proper thing to appear cultivated and to 
 come into harmony with a probably existent 
 God, and to sing in the fine choir which is 
 placed near the organ. Some of these people 
 have descended in a direct line from the honored 
 conquerors of Richelieu ; these form a kind of 
 sacred band, holding their convictions strongly, 
 always suspicious of some persecution, and 
 cherishing, deep in their hearts, underneath 
 the lethargy of indifference, hatred of Rome 
 and the Pope and the Jesuits. Here and 
 there, throughout the congregation, you might 
 note a few humble peasant women, their 
 dark skins showing plainly against the white- 
 ness of their laces, heaped up into mountain- 
 ous head-dresses. Occasionally a sailor might 
 be seen, in his pea-jacket ; and perhaps some 
 old man, following attentively the reading 
 of the Word, as he turned over the worn 
 leaves of an old Bible with his great rough 
 fingers. 
 
 During the singing of the first hymn. 
 Monsieur Naudie ran his eyes over the con- 
 gregation. At first he looked for his three 
 daughters, — Esther attentive. Bertha patient, 
 and Zelia alert and watchful, much like a 
 bird in a cage. Then he noticed several other 
 S3 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 persons. There was Monsieur Lanthelme, 
 professor of philosophy at the academy ; a lit- 
 tle old round-shouldered man, his face spark- 
 ling with maliciousness ; perhaps at that very 
 moment preparing one of those acrid speeches 
 with which, on every possible occasion, he 
 lashed both enemies and friends. There, also, 
 was Monsieur Merlin, the attorney ; an exceed- 
 ingly shrewd person, who piqued himself on 
 his literary tastes, read the most modern fash- 
 ionable poetry, and wrote several treatises 
 against immoral literature, at the same time 
 collecting with pious zeal some very remark- 
 able specimens of this kind. There, too, was 
 the Dehodecq family, which stood, with the 
 Defos family, first in the community; it filled 
 completely one of the long benches, even 
 though not all its members were present. At 
 the moment when the pastor's eyes rested on 
 this group, at the instant when he was reflect- 
 ing upon their quiet, earnest demeanor, and 
 upon their Christian conduct, vigorous but 
 unobtrusive, his attention was distracted by 
 the late arrival of the Defos family. 
 
 Monsieur Defos made himself, everywhere, 
 
 very much at home. From the very way in 
 
 which he entered and looked about him, and 
 
 from the way in which he advanced to his 
 
 54 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 seat, an acute observer might see that when he 
 came into the house of the Lord, he came in 
 as an allied monarch, who did it for the sake of 
 courtesy. His wife was no less majestic. She 
 was quite as corpulent as he, but with coarser 
 features; and she tossed back her head, allowing 
 her double chin to roll about on a lace collar. 
 Her small piercing eyes passed swiftly over 
 the assembly, in a sharp glance of inspection, 
 and her umbrella resounded upon the floor 
 with all the authority of a beadle who precedes 
 a procession. Behind her walked their pretty 
 niece, Jane; small, dainty, graceful, with a 
 humming-bird perched upon her hat, she 
 seemed like a vireo or warbler skipping along 
 behind two geese. Their two sons brought 
 up the rear, David, the elder, was already 
 heavy and coarse, although he had barely 
 passed his thirtieth year. Henry was very dif- 
 ferent; he was smaller, more slender, with a 
 timid gait, and an air at once restless and self- 
 absorbed ; his pale face, with its mobile feat- 
 ures, was surrounded with a beard so refractory 
 and unkempt that it seemed to be wholly 
 neglected. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie could not look upon these 
 people without applying to them at once his 
 recent reflections. Did not Monsieur Defos 
 SS 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 exemplify, by every act, the ease with which 
 one may harmonize the service of the two 
 masters? Accustomed as he was to be seen 
 of men, held by the faithful as an exemplary 
 Christian, he looked upon his salvation as 
 a matter of business, and upon his business 
 as his salvation. Monsieur Naudie said to 
 himself, while the last stanza of the hymn was 
 being sung, that if one wished to speak con- 
 vincingly to such people, if he wished to draw 
 them for a moment from their earthly thoughts, 
 and encourage within them the divine spark, he 
 would need the eloquence of an apostle or a 
 reformer. And the good pastor felt, on the 
 instant, coming over him, a breath of the holy 
 indignation of Jesus against self-satisfied souls, 
 and was stirred to exclaim at once against such 
 pharisaic hearts. His conscience roused itself 
 at the thought of their compromises, though a 
 few moments before he had accepted it all as 
 unavoidable ; and, in the twinking of an eye, he 
 saw and accepted the high idealism of his youth- 
 ful sermon. He preached it almost word for 
 word as he had written it in the former time, 
 expressing all its faith and consecration and 
 high purpose. His manner, which ordinarily 
 was slow and dull, grew animated ; the fervor 
 of his tones gave life to his figures of speech ; 
 56 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 he made vigorous gestures ; his earnestness was 
 almost fascinating. 
 
 Accordingly, the faithful, passing out of 
 church, spoke to one another about the " excel- 
 lent discourse." Even Monsieur Lanthelme, 
 whose commendations usually carried a hidden 
 sting, said to Monsieur Dehodecq, as he met 
 him at the entrance, " Anybody can see that 
 our pastor has been at Montauban ; his father 
 has lent him a few bright ideas." 
 
 As for Monsieur Defos, he had not the slight- 
 est notion that the sermon applied to him. His 
 family walked out in front of him, and he stood 
 for a moment listening to Monsieur Merlin, who 
 informed him (lowering his voice) that he had 
 just received from Brusselles a most shocking 
 romance. He was not, however, at all interested 
 in such nonsense, and brusquely left the attor- 
 ney at the moment when Monsieur Naudie came 
 out. He at once joined him, and felicitated him 
 on the merit of his sermon. 
 
 " You have given us an excellent discourse, 
 pastor," said he; "it is, unhappily, only too 
 true, in the case of many persons. I am glad 
 to see that your journey did not fatigue you. 
 The Signal referred to the celebration. You 
 must have experienced many pleasant emotions. 
 You will give us an account of them day after 
 57 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 to-morrow, for we may count on seeing you 
 then, may we not ? At half-past six." 
 
 As Monsieur Naudie re-entered his house, 
 he said to himself: "Ah, it is utterly useless to 
 speak the exact truth. To-day, as in the days 
 of the Master, there are those who have ears, 
 but hear not." 
 
 But scarcely had he entered his doorway, 
 before he found himself dominated by the 
 cares of the world, like those whom he had 
 rebuked for their religious lulcewarmness, and 
 that too without being aware of it. His son 
 Abraham entered, with garments torn, having 
 been wrangling with some cabin-boys on the 
 wharves. Esther at once showed much so- 
 licitude, turning him round and round in front 
 of her, and trying to make the edges of the 
 torn and tattered 'garments meet. At the 
 same time she gave her father a glance such as 
 a doctor might have given when asked to revive 
 a dead man. 
 
 "There will be no way of mending them, 
 papa. It will be necessary to purchase new 
 ones. And they were his Sunday clothes, too." 
 
 She expressed in her tones all the anguish of 
 a young housekeeper who has reached the end 
 of her resources. From force of habit Mon- 
 sieur Naudie comforted her, and reminded her 
 S8 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 that things always were straightened out, with 
 the help of God, in ^due time. But presently, 
 when he reflected that the trip to Montauban 
 had emptied his pocket-book, he felt greatly 
 vexed. " So much the worse for him," h.^ said. 
 " Let him wait ! " 
 
 And, raising his voice, he began to scold 
 Abraham. 
 
 Like the sermon to the faithful, all repri- 
 mands fell harmless upon this terrible young- 
 ster, who took the reproofs with great calmness, 
 at the same time turning and twisting between 
 his; fingers the shreds hanging from his torn 
 jacket. However, as the dinner was waiting, 
 they all seated themselves at the table ; in an 
 irritated tone Monsieur Naudie said, crossing 
 his hands before him on his plate, " The bless- 
 ing, Zelia ! " 
 
 The child lisped in a soft little voice, " We 
 thank thee. Lord, for the blessings which thou 
 hast given us. Amen ! " And the repast began, 
 in a constrained way. 
 
 59 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MONSIEUR NAUDlfi, when he ac- 
 cepted Monsieur Defos's invitation, 
 had no idea that he had been for some time 
 the subject of unceasing anxieties and contin- 
 uous debate in the councillor-general's family. 
 So it was with his usual serenity of manner 
 that he presented himself at the house, Esther 
 had picked out a shirt for him whose wrist- 
 bands were not too much worn, made a few 
 needed repairs on his frock coat, and tied with 
 her deft fingers his fine white cravat. After 
 which, stepping back a foot or two, to judge 
 the better, she said, with one of her rare 
 smiles, " There ! I say that you are very 
 handsome," 
 
 In point of fact Monsieur Naudie seemed 
 almost a young man ; his noble forehead, his 
 fine black eyes, and his full silky beard almost 
 justified his daughter's frank admiration. 
 
 " Child ! " said he, with a little shrug of his 
 shoulders. 
 
 All the family assisted at his departure, as 
 if he had been starting for a long journey. 
 Bertha, who was a bit of a gourmand, said, 
 60 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " You will have some good things to eat, 
 papa." 
 
 " But we," said Esther, facetiously, " will eat 
 potatoes with white sauce." 
 
 Abraham made a wry face. 
 
 " I confess, children," said Monsieur Naudie, 
 "that I would prefer to stay with you." 
 
 He looked at Zelia, whom to-day he would 
 not be able to take upon his knees at dessert, 
 and she piped up in the voice of a spoiled 
 child, " Papa, you ought to stay with us ; you 
 ought, you ought." 
 
 He lifted her up to embrace her. " Up ! 
 Up ! There ! What a nice little girl ! " 
 
 Then, as the time was passing, he sallied 
 forth, and in a few minutes was in front of the 
 old Defos mansion, which stood in the broad, 
 dignified Rue Reaumur ; a street which was 
 occupied, in the days of great colonial activity, 
 by rich and rather ostentatious merchants. 
 
 A liveried attendant ushered him into a 
 spacious parlor, wainscoted in the fashion of 
 Louis XV., filled with beautiful furniture of 
 antique pattern, and adorned with various kinds 
 of costly bric-a-brac. A number of pictures 
 hung on the walls, among them several which 
 the master of the house loved to point out 
 with a satirical air, as belonging to "The 
 6i 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 School of La Rochelle." Two Algerian land- 
 scapes by Fromentin, and a St. John by Bou- 
 guereau, he held in high estimation. Monsieur 
 Naudie felt a little distrust, as he noticed the 
 coldness and even hostility with which Madame 
 Defos rose to receive him, in all her glacial 
 majesty. Then the condescending good-nature 
 of her husband offset this a little, yet without 
 putting him entirely at his ease. The two 
 sons, who were seated back to back at the 
 hearth, saluted him ; but David's greeting was 
 without any warmth, and Henry's was quiet 
 and reserved. Jane, who entered a moment 
 later, came and gave him her hand with a 
 frank and gracious air, raising to his face her 
 beautifiil eyes, which seemed to hold some 
 hidden mystery. 
 
 In the midst of all this cumbrous luxury, 
 among tliese rich, heavy, impassive trades- 
 people, the young girl in her tasteful tailor- 
 made gown, with collar and necktie like a 
 man's, with her slender, graceful figure and 
 attractive ways, seemed like a beautiful mis- 
 placed statuette on a shelf mth a lot of coarse 
 kitchen pottery. She was of another race, of 
 quite another species. She was small, dainty, 
 refined ; there was a tint of peach-blossoms on 
 her cheeks ; her features were delicate, as if 
 
 62 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 drawn by an artist ; they showed a fascinating 
 irregularity, and were so mobile that they 
 varied her expression unceasingly; her hair 
 was dark and was caught up in loops, and 
 beneath the symmetrical arch of her brows 
 were her great oval eyeSj Oriental eyes, where 
 one saw at times fleeting suggestions of an 
 unknown world. 
 
 After Jane entered there was a moment or two 
 of constrained silence. A few listless remarks 
 were dropped, at long intervals, until the time 
 came for seating themselves at the table. This 
 constraint continued until the dinner was fairly 
 begun. At length Jane mentioned the festivi- 
 ties at Montauban, and Monsieur Naudie con- 
 quered his shyness enough to give a detailed 
 account of them. A gleam of the paternal 
 glory still lingered upon his forehead. He 
 spoke with animation ; he repeated his father's 
 address ; he narrated incidents of which the 
 old sage had been the central figure ; and all 
 this without divining the diverse feelings of 
 his listeners. Jane hung upon his every word, 
 compelling her pretty mobile face into an ex- 
 pression of severe .gravity. Madame Defos's 
 thin lips grew even thinner, and the rigid 
 curve of her mouth expressed her displeasure 
 at hearing Monsieur Naudie speak so freely 
 63 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 and boldly, without showing any awe at the 
 grandeur of his surroundings, — either at the 
 magnificence of the massive candelabra, or 
 the majesty of the mistress of the house. 
 David and his father listened with mingled re- 
 spect and distrust ; the goodness of Abraham 
 Naudie seemed to them a trifle contemptible. 
 Besides, if they showed any particular admira- 
 tion for men of reflection and meditation, it 
 was solely for what they might get out of them 
 in the form of practical activity ; and the hasty 
 glance which they gave to the inner life of the 
 old philosopher made very clear to them that 
 metaphysics was a useless article. Henry, 
 on the contrary, brightened up, and his fea- 
 tures grew animated. Several times he was on 
 the point of saying something, but refrained. 
 Finally, as Monsieur Naudie recounted the re- 
 cent testimonials of admiration which had come 
 to his father from the most distant places, he 
 exclaimed, with an emotion which contrasted 
 with the simple character of his words, " All 
 that is but justice, pastor, for your father is an 
 admirable thinker." And then he added, in 
 an undertone, " At least in the larger part of 
 his writings." 
 
 This unexpected reservation of course called 
 for explanation. Monsieur Naudie supposed 
 64 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 that the young man, in the fervor of his ap- 
 proaching consecration, took exceptions to some 
 of his father's more radical progressive ideas. 
 But Henry glanced around, with a startled air, 
 as if he regretted having raised so complex a 
 question ; then, as all were waiting, he spoke 
 again, trying to modify a little his thought. 
 
 " Of course his work is so abundant that a 
 person can choose from it what he likes ; for 
 my own part I admire most in him the bold- 
 ness of his logic, the honesty of his reasoning. 
 He is one of those who follow out their thought 
 to its utmost conclusions, without having any 
 regard for consequences. That is true of all 
 his books, but especially of his ' Dialogues on 
 Real Problems.' " 
 
 Henry's voice trembled, for he was afraid of 
 his own boldness. Then Monsieur Naudie, 
 surprised, said: "That book is not the one 
 rated most highly by my father ; he wrote it 
 during one of those periods of doubt and dis- 
 tress which are not always spared to the most 
 faithful. He calls it the fruit of his tempta- 
 tion. Many times he has described to me his 
 anguish during this period, out of which the 
 goodness of God at length lifted him." 
 
 Monsieur Defos was restless under the 
 course of conversation which his second son 
 5 -65 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 was carrying on, and he looked at him and 
 frowned ; but the young man would not heed 
 the admonition of this frown. For doubt 
 rested heavily upon his heart, as it had for- 
 merly rested on the heart of Abraham Naudie. 
 He hardly admitted to himself, as yet, that 
 the foundations of his faith were shaken ; he 
 suffered, though, already ; and he felt it as a 
 gnawing need, this desire to speak of matters 
 which filled his breast with mystery and 
 with passion. This fervor of soul, throbbing 
 and impetuous, held back in its wild im- 
 pulses by a strong will, all this stormy inner 
 life was wholly unsuspected and quite incom- 
 prehensible, so far as his immediate family was 
 concerned. 
 
 He said : "The book bears the marks of his 
 sufferings ; that is what gives it its value. It 
 seems to me to have a flavor like the first 
 chapters of St. Augustine. Will you allow 
 me, pastor, to express my ideas fiilly and 
 freely?" 
 
 His voice grew stronger, warmer, and more 
 resonant, in the midst of the unsympathetic 
 silence around him. " I believe that it is in 
 just such books as this one that your father 
 has expressed his real religious faith, that 
 which gives him his glory ; I mean his faith in 
 
 66 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Truth, far higher, far more fruitful than any 
 acceptance of established dogmas can ever be. 
 If he afterward returned to more orthodox 
 beliefs, he did it by submitting his thought to 
 the domination of his will, — excellent lesson for 
 those who boast themselves of their intellect. 
 But, in spite of that backward step, his vision 
 always transcends the horizon with which he 
 seeks to surround himself, always goes beyond 
 it, always rises high . . ." 
 
 " Henry ! " interrupted Monsieur Defos. 
 
 The young man glanced at his father, whose 
 great threatening eyes were levelled full at him, 
 hesitated a moment, then with a sigh drew 
 back, saying, " I mean to say, simply, that 
 Monsieur Abraham Naudie is one of those 
 thinkers who sacrifice nothing to convention- 
 alities." 
 
 " I assure you," said Monsieur Naudie, 
 " that my father is a man whose faith is very 
 simple and very vital." 
 
 Henry made no reply ; perhaps he was 
 doubtful about the effect of his words on his 
 own conscience ; for, at this period of his 
 life, it seemed to him obscure and full of 
 contradictions. 
 
 The conversation changed ; it became com- 
 monplace again. A few bits of gossip crept 
 67 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 in. The talk did not reach a higher level 
 after they went into the parlor ; there Madame 
 Defos, still unapproachable, served the coffee, 
 refusing, with a curt gesture, her niece's aid. 
 Then Monsieur Defos, with an air of familiar- 
 ity, took Monsieur Naudie's arm, saying, 
 " Come along, pastor, and smoke a cigar with 
 me in my study 1 " 
 
 " I don't smoke," said Monsieur Naudie, 
 " but I will be glad to go with you." 
 
 The two men went out, and the others 
 remained. 
 
 " So you do not smoke," remarked Mon- 
 sieur Defos, choosing a cigar very carefully. 
 He lighted one, pointed his guest to an arm- 
 chair, installed himself in another, and con- 
 tinued, — 
 
 " The papers that speak of your father and 
 his habits of life, mention that he is a con- 
 firmed smoker." 
 
 " Yes, the fact is that my father clings closely 
 to his pipe ; he says that it clears his mind. 
 For myself, I have no such excuse ; so I have 
 given up the habit." 
 
 Then followed a pause. Monsieur Naudie 
 
 waited. Monsieur Defos, judging that it was 
 
 not worth while to prolong these preliminaries, 
 
 cleared his throat and began: "This is the 
 
 68 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 first time, pastor, that we have had the pleas- 
 ure of receiving you into our family circle, 
 although we have known one another . . . 
 well, a dozen years, I think." 
 
 " It is twelve years since I came to La 
 Rochelle." 
 
 " So wags the world ; people live opposite 
 each other, meet each other, come to know 
 each other, and yet really see very little of 
 each other." There was a slight hesitation in 
 Monsieur Defos's speech, as if he were hunting 
 for the right words. He went on. 
 
 " In order to have you here, certain circum- 
 stances were necessary, very peculiar ... eh 
 . . . which I . . . eh . . , wish you to be 
 acquainted with. But . . . but, first, some 
 explanations are needed. Do you know the 
 history of my niece ? " 
 
 " In a general way I do. I have heard it 
 said that . . ." 
 
 Monsieur Defos interrupted him sharply. 
 " I fancy that there has been more or less gos- 
 sip about her ; for people always meddle with 
 what does not concern them. Now, these are 
 the exact facts. My oldest brother, David, — 
 in our family the eldest always has taken the 
 Christian name of our illustrious ancestor, — 
 had an adventurous spirit and an undisciplined 
 69 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 nature ; my second son, alas ! somewhat re- 
 sembles him. This brother of mine, David, 
 being unable to get on harmoniously with my 
 father, — who never allowed any resistance to 
 his wishes, — left home at an early age, and 
 went to the Indies. He rarely sent us news 
 of himself, and never came back to this 
 country. However, he announced to us his 
 marriage with an Anglo-Indian, and, in the 
 course of time, at intervals came news of the 
 birth of several children. We may take for 
 granted that he was prosperous, for, at this 
 present time, the fortune which he left goes 
 beyond the figure of two millions." 
 
 Monsieur Defos stopped a moment, to watch 
 the effect of this information upon the other ; 
 but although he waited, his words produced no 
 visible result. The good pastor was so simple 
 and pure of heart, so devoid of greed and self- 
 interest, that wealth was like a remote sun, 
 too distant to dazzle. It was therefore out of 
 mere courtesy that Monsieur Naudie repeated, 
 in a tone which he compelled to express admi- 
 ration, " Ah, two millions ! " 
 
 " Yes ; two millions, and even beyond that." 
 
 Then Monsieur Defos continued his story. 
 
 " It is now seven years since a plague of cholera 
 
 swept over that district; and it carried off, 
 
 70 
 
Pastor Naudle's Young Wife 
 
 pastor, nearly all that happy flourishing family. 
 The ways of God are inscrutable. Of them all 
 two children survived : these were their young- 
 est, my niece Jane, then fourteen years old ; 
 and one of their sons, Harold, at that time 
 nineteen. Possibly you may know that my 
 journey to the Indies was made in order to 
 arrange their affairs, which gave me a great 
 deal of trouble ; but, with God's help, I was 
 able to get them all into good shape." 
 
 Monsieur Defos here turned aside, for a few 
 moments, to award himself the praise for his 
 disinterestedness which the circumstances war-' 
 ranted ; because, without any object but that 
 of assisting his niece and nephew, he had under- 
 taken a long journey, set aside his own inter- 
 ests, and given up four months of his laborious 
 existence. Perhaps, however, his action would 
 have been seen to be less admirable if he 
 pushed a little farther his examination of his 
 conscience, for, after all, despite appearances, 
 his self-sacrifice was really an offering to the 
 golden calf; certainly he would not have exerted 
 himself so much and so readily for relatives 
 who had been left in less fortunate circum- 
 stances. But Monsieur Defos never pene- 
 trated to the depths of the soul where such 
 discoveries are made. It was with entire good 
 71 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 faith that he thought of his journey to the 
 Indies as one of those acts by which, as the 
 Gospel expresses it, a man lays up "treasures 
 in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth 
 corrupt." 
 
 So it was with utter sincerity that once more, 
 for the duration of a quarter of a minute, he 
 went on praising himself for this check which 
 he had drawn on the uncertain bank of eternity. 
 
 After this. Monsieur Naudie waiting mean- 
 while, he continued : " My nephew Harold 
 wished to become an artist. I did the best I 
 could to turn him away from a career which is 
 no career at all ; but he would not listen to me. 
 He is not my son ; he possesses a fortune large 
 enough to lift him above the usual exigencies 
 of life. I have decided that I cannot push my 
 opposition to his ' vocation ' any farther, with- 
 out going beyond my limits of duty ; so I have 
 given in. He is at present travelling. Occa- 
 sionally he paints, but his pictures don't sell, 
 and never will. They are too fine." 
 
 The scornful face of Monsieur Defos told his 
 opinion of his nephew's work. Then he went 
 on : " As for my niece, I thought, at first, of 
 bringing her up with my own family ; but I 
 reflected that, having two sons, I would thus 
 lead to malicious public opinion to credit me — 
 72 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 as It often has done, unjustly — with deliberate 
 selfish calculation. I placed her, then, in Eng- 
 land, at an excellent school. Each year she 
 divides her vacations between her only mater- 
 nal aunt, who lives in London, and my family. 
 In this way we have her with us four or five 
 weeks, and thus we are able to keep in touch 
 with her as she grows up." 
 
 Up to this point. Monsieur Defos spoke with 
 the freedom and ease of a man who knows just 
 what he intends to say ; his task now grew more 
 delicate ; he showed signs of being ill at ease, 
 and shuffled his big feet about over the flower- 
 pattern on the carpet. 
 
 " My dear pastor," said he, speaking now 
 more slowly, " I will not conceal from you 
 the fact that she has caused us some surprises 
 and even some anxieties; not, indeed, that we 
 have anything of a serious nature with which 
 to charge her, but hers is a nature — how shall 
 I express it ? — uncertain, unstable, which will 
 doubtless become steadier with years, when she 
 shall have some aim, some task, and various 
 duties ; all those things which give steadiness 
 to life, things which thus far have been lacking 
 in her experience. In her first vacations her 
 only idea was to play the roughest games, and 
 she greatly regretted that she was not a boy. 
 73 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The next year we hardly recognized her as the 
 same person; she spent all her time reading 
 the poets ; several times we missed her from 
 the house, and found her on the border of the 
 lake, declaiming verses, in the midst of a storm. 
 Afterward, it was music to which she was pas- 
 sionately devoted, — would you believe it? she 
 even had a notion of going upon the stage ; luck- 
 ily that whim passed quickly out of her head." 
 
 Here Monsieur Defos's speech became more 
 and more hesitating. He had now reached an 
 incident about which he had been anxious for 
 a long time ; and the recollection of it partly 
 explained his present state of mind. During the 
 girl's stay in London she had become infatuated 
 with a popular singer, and, with the connivance 
 of a sentimental governess, she had had a 
 rendezvous in one of the churches ; quite a 
 romance it all was, but without any serious 
 results ; still, it was rather disturbing to her 
 friends, because it showed how capricious and 
 wilful her nature was. 
 
 Monsieur Defos was almost on the point of 
 narrating this episode, which touched rather 
 unpleasantly the self-respect of his family ; but 
 he suddenly changed his mind, and decided to 
 pass it over in silence. So he added : "A short 
 time ago my wife was saying, ' Heaven alone 
 74 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 knows what will become of that child ! ' But our 
 fears have been lightened, my dear pastor. God 
 has not suffered us to undergo any serious 
 shame. The girl has become wiser, much 
 more so than we had dared to hope. The tur- 
 bulence of her nature seems to be tranquillized ; 
 she has now become much interested in reli- 
 gious matters, and the only possible thing which 
 we could object to is that she has gone into this 
 new experience a little too earnestly." 
 
 At this point Monsieur Defos recalled the 
 sermon of the day before, and added with a 
 slight accent of scorn, " But that is a fault that 
 leans toward the side of virtue ; you showed us, 
 yesterday, that it was impossible to be too zeal- 
 ous in the service of the Lord." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie reddened, as he recalled, 
 also, other sentiments which he had uttered. 
 These long explanations of his host puzzled 
 him ; he could not understand why he had been 
 so fully taken into the family counsels. Now, 
 as Monsieur Defos remained silent, and evi- 
 dently awaited a reply, he said a few words in 
 praise of his great care of the girl, and felicitated 
 her upon being the object of it. 
 
 Without replying to the complimentary 
 words. Monsieur Defos said : " And now, my 
 dear pastor, I wish to ask you a question which, 
 75 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 after all that I have been saying, may be not 
 wholly unsuspected by you. Have you ever 
 considered the possibility of a second marriage 
 for yourself? " 
 
 This time Monsieur Naudie understood ; 
 but it came with such a shock that at first he 
 could not find words to express his surprise, 
 and he repeated blankly, " Me ? For me ? " 
 
 " Surely it cannot be possible," said Mon- 
 sieur Defos, good-naturedly, " that such an 
 idea has never occurred to you, or that none 
 of your friends and neighbors has suggested 
 such a contingency ? " 
 
 By a great effort Monsieur Naudie held back 
 the flood of commingled emotions which these 
 words set loose within him ; and he appeared 
 outwardly calm, smiled as if he had been listen- 
 ing to a fairy-tale, and replied in all simplicity : 
 " Why, yes, my friend, it is an idea which some- 
 times has occurred to me; both my father and 
 my sister have had the same idea, also. But 
 I am no longer young, I have four children; 
 these are conditions which make a second mar- 
 riage very difficult. I believe that only some 
 very serious-minded woman, knowing enough 
 of life to know the cost of devotion, would be 
 likely to accept them." 
 
 Monsieur Defos appeared to weigh these 
 76 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 words carefully. " I see," said he, " that you 
 are not opposed, on principle, to the idea of 
 second marriages. And you have doubtless 
 divined the drift of my question ? It is, in 
 short, this : that my niece. Mademoiselle Jane 
 Defos, has taken into her head the idea of 
 marrying you. The fact that I speak thus to 
 you about it ought to be evidence that I have 
 ceased to regard her idea as an altogether absurd 
 caprice. Indeed, on the whole, I am inclined to 
 favor her wish. Now, my dear pastor, I trust 
 that I shall give no offence if I add that I bring 
 this peculiar affair to your notice only after 
 much hesitation, and only after having over- 
 come considerable opposition ; for I shall not 
 conceal from you that Madame Defos has been 
 extremely reluctant to give her consent ; it is 
 the first time, in thirty years of married life, 
 that we have found ourselves in disagreement. 
 Besides, so far as I am concerned, I have not 
 had the time to think over all the moral ad- 
 vantages which such a plan offers. It has been 
 enough for me that it has seemed inevitable ; 
 that was what weighed me down." 
 
 Monsieur Defos spoke as if the only possible 
 objections must be on the side of his family, 
 and that Monsieur Naudie must, of course, be 
 only too ready. 
 
 77 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The pastor was injured in his feelings ; and 
 he said : " These advantages of which you 
 speak, — I must confess that I do not yet see 
 them. Mademoiselle Defos is very young and 
 very rich. Youth and wealth are excellent 
 things ; they are not, perhaps, in this case the 
 things most desirable." 
 
 "As to that matter of wealth," said Monsieur 
 Defos, warmly, " you forget that it might be, per- 
 haps, an injury to a young girl who was very nice 
 and yet . . . yet very . . . romantic. A young 
 girl is never sure of being sought for herself 
 alone, and she therefore becomes distrustful ; 
 she is suspicious of all suitors, she doubts every- 
 body who comes near her. And that is not all. 
 My niece, as I have already told you, is very 
 devout, very seriously inclined ; she would like 
 to have the wealth which has fallen to her put 
 to good use, good Christian use. More than 
 that, she feels deeply the need of consecrating 
 herself to some noble work. She had a plan 
 of becoming a nurse ; if she gave it up, it was 
 because the sight of physical suffering made 
 her ill herself. Then she cast about for some 
 other mission, and believes that she has found 
 it ; and what nobler task can there be, really, 
 than the bringing up of motherless children ? " 
 
 These words recalled to Monsieur Naudie 
 78 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 the saying of his sister Angelica and of his 
 father, both of whom were always so frank 
 and sincere before the mystery of life ; did 
 their words presage the coming of an unknown, 
 whose soft touch would comfort his little ones ? 
 And was Jane the one ? Then he murmured, 
 " These are noble sentiments." 
 
 " Without question," said Monsieur Defos. 
 " It is because I have understood and weighed 
 them that I have come to approve my niece's 
 course; and for other reasons, also, my dear 
 pastor, as I have told you frankly. If these 
 plans come to nothing, we shall be unable to 
 keep her with us, she tells us. . . ." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie hastened to ask : " She 
 will leave us ? " 
 
 The other went on : " She will go away to 
 England, and then what will become of her ? 
 Everything is to be feared for a nature as wil- 
 ful as hers, at least until the time when she 
 shall have gained that stability which is given 
 by duties and affections. It is upon these 
 duties that I count to make her more reason- 
 able and serious ; it is her immaturity of mind, 
 I judge, which dismays you. As for any dif- 
 ference in fortune . . ." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie interrupted. " I am far 
 poorer than you suspect." 
 79 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Defos looked at him, as if esti- 
 mating his worth, and then shrugged his 
 shoulders. " That is not the question," said 
 he. " To be sure, my niece will bring to you 
 wealth, but you, for your part, have your pro- 
 fession, — the noblest there is, — your name, 
 your father's name, and your family's record. 
 You are one of us, my dear pastor ; you be- 
 long, as we do, to a kind of aristocracy. Two 
 centuries of persecution, of earnest effort, of 
 honesty, of loyalty to the faith, — these are titles 
 of nobility. Which do you suppose I would 
 prefer, — to give my niece to a man like you, or 
 to see her follow in the footsteps of her brother 
 and become the victim of some adventurer? 
 Her fortune, my dear pastor, — ah ! it is a great 
 peril for her. Marriage is the only safe course 
 for her. She has chosen you. I approve her 
 choice ; and it becomes my duty to ask your 
 hand for her, since you have certainly had no 
 idea of asking her hand of me." 
 
 At these words Monsieur Defos allowed 
 himself to smile in a friendly way. Monsieur 
 Naudie did not reply. A dull pain seemed to 
 overwhelm him, as it might overwhelm some 
 poor traveller, who sees a mirage rise before 
 him and prepares to approach it, although 
 greatly in doubt as to its reality. Presently 
 80 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 he murmured, " All this is so unexpected and 
 so very serious." 
 
 " Doubtless it is," said Monsieur Defos, 
 complacently; "but I do not expect you to 
 give me an immediate response. Take time 
 to think it over ! Come and see us. You 
 ought to have some idea of my niece's char- 
 acter. However, try to decide the matter as 
 soon as you can, before all the gossip arises 
 which your visits are likely to cause. Nothing 
 is more disagreeable than to offer to Mrs. 
 Grundy a vague and mysterious state of affairs. 
 So far as other things are concerned, I am sure 
 that you will quickly and wisely rectify the 
 objections which you have named." 
 
 Thereupon he laid aside his cigar, which he 
 had taken care not to light, and said : " Now, 
 my dear pastor, let us return to the parlor, if 
 you wish. Our conversation has been a little 
 protracted." 
 
 The return to the family circle was very 
 trying for Monsieur Naudie. The four per- 
 sons grouped in the parlor waited without 
 speaking a word. He had the feeling that 
 the glances, there awaiting him, sought to 
 probe the secret of his soul, which as yet was 
 confused and obscure even to himself. Instinc- 
 tively his gaze sought Mademoiselle Defos. 
 6 8i 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 She had arranged herself in a dim corner. 
 Although he could scarcely distinguish her 
 features, she appeared to him quite different 
 from what she was an hour before, when she 
 had counted for nothing in his life. Then he 
 glanced at Madame Defos, who was sitting 
 upright upon her chair, with an irritated and 
 almost threatening air. David concealed his 
 ill feeling a little better, and Henry seemed 
 less interested, yet a trifle cynical. 
 
 Then this feeling pressed heavily upon 
 Monsieur Naudie's heart : " They all are pass- 
 ing judgment upon me, they are condemning 
 me." And he asked himself, " What shall I 
 do ? " And for the first time perhaps in his 
 life he acted without reflection; he obeyed, 
 almost in spite of himself, the inspiration 
 which came to him. With a resolute step he 
 advanced toward Jane, and said loudly enough 
 for all to hear : " Mademoiselle, your uncle 
 has just told me several things which greatly 
 stir me. I cannot express how deeply I am 
 touched by your kind attitude toward me ; 
 but I am sure that you will find, as I do, that 
 a question as serious as this ought not to be 
 settled hastily. You will reflect more upon 
 it, mademoiselle. There are matters upon 
 which it is highly important that you should 
 82 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 be fully informed. As for myself, I have too 
 many duties and too many responsibilities to 
 reach a decision without careful consideration, 
 indeed, without having asked the guidance of 
 God." 
 
 This was said with such dignity that the 
 distrustful faces began to unbend, — all except 
 Madame Defos, who glowered even more 
 deeply. Then Monsieur Naudie said " Good- 
 night,^' and went out ; leaving a favorable 
 impression on at least one of those present, — 
 Henry, whose place in the family was not yet 
 fully established. 
 
 83 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A FEW days afterward Monsieur Naudie 
 was taking a walk with his children, for 
 exercise. Abraham, who was bored by these 
 family promenades, diverted himself by run- 
 ning about like a young dog, shouting loudly 
 in the fashion of a teamster ; or, if one of his 
 sisters left the group for an instant, he took 
 advantage of this to pinch and strike her. 
 Monsieur Naudie turned to the boy, and 
 uttered a sentence, which from repeated use 
 had about lost its meaning : " See here, Abra- 
 ham ! you are unendurable to-day." 
 
 He was holding Zelia's hand, and her little 
 legs toiled bravely to keep up with him. She 
 twittered like a little bird about all sorts of 
 things, in a most inconsequent way. As for 
 the pastor, he was preoccupied, silent, turn- 
 ing over in his mind the insoluble problem 
 which the interview with Monsieur Defos had 
 brought to him, — a problem upon which he 
 could not reach any satisfactory decision. For, 
 with all his heart, he longed for the happiness 
 of which he had obtained a glimpse ; and yet 
 in his heart there was a voice — each day 
 84 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 becoming feebler — which held such happiness 
 in contempt. In truth, hope and cheer seemed 
 to float in the balmy air, and in the clear sun- 
 shine which flooded the dear familiar scene, 
 and in the springtime, heralded as it was by 
 the buds of the grand old elms, whose branches 
 hung low, in benediction, over the grass-plots 
 of the lawns. 
 
 The sea, not far away, hidden behind a hedge 
 of tamarinds,kept up its ceaseless roar, yet not in 
 anger. On the other side were the groves, and 
 ducks, and well-kept roads of the Charruyer 
 Park, Farther on, toward the town, the an- 
 cient tower of La Lanterne raised high its 
 eight-sided steeple, and the little tower where 
 formerly the signal fires were lighted behind 
 the ogive windows. At the approaches of the 
 Casino the sea showed Itself, smooth and blue, 
 swept away by the low tide behind the black 
 ruins of the Richelieu dyke. These antique 
 objects, like the ancient elms, and like nature 
 herself, seemed to become young again in the 
 springtime, and even the vault of heaven seemed 
 full of joy. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's heart was much stirred, 
 and he murmured, " It would be so good to be 
 a little bit happy." 
 
 Esther and Bertha walked in front of him, 
 85 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 holding hands, and, in low voices, engaged in 
 confidential talk. They were too warm in 
 their winter cloaks, which were very simple 
 and rather worn. They turned around to 
 wait for their father. He finished his thought 
 with, " They, too, will be happier." 
 
 And then the distrustful voice within him 
 said, " Who knows ? " 
 
 " My ! there are the Defos family," exclaimed 
 Esther, suddenly. 
 
 It was true. Monsieur and Madame Defos 
 were coming toward them, madame leading ; 
 the two looking like heavy cuirassiers, moving 
 their imposing persons forward with some diffi- 
 culty. At their side glided Jane, with airy 
 grace, as if she had been a pretty little skiff, 
 only asking to run before the wind. Instead 
 of passing with coolness and rigidity, they 
 stopped and exchanged greetings. Madame 
 Defos, with mistrustful glance at the young 
 girls, and with her hard mouth much com- 
 pressed, expressed to Monsieur Naudie the 
 pleasure which his visits would give them. At 
 this, Jane reddened a little, and began to caress 
 Zelia's cheek. 
 
 When the Defos family had departed, Esther, 
 after a moment's reflection, exclaimed, " Then 
 you are going again to their house, papa ? " 
 
 86 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was taken unawares, and 
 replied nervously and almost deceitfully, " Of 
 course, I ought to make my return call, after 
 going there to dinner." The young girl com- 
 pared this response with Madame Defos's 
 words, and remained silent. Her father was 
 surely hiding something from her; but what? 
 
 She could not divine ; but an obscure im- 
 pression linked Jane with the problem, for she 
 said, " Mademoiselle Defos is very friendly to 
 me at the Philharmonic Society, but this is the 
 first time her uncle has spoken to us in this 
 way." 
 
 " Monsieur Defos is a very kindly man, I 
 assure you," said Monsieur Naudie. " He is 
 merely a little cold on the outside; that is 
 all." 
 
 Then he put on an air of indifference, and 
 added, " As for the young girl, she is alto- 
 gether a charming creature." 
 
 " They say," remarked Esther, " that she is 
 engaged to her cousin the student." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie knew perfectly well that 
 this was a false scent. Yet he was no less 
 keenly aware of a sharp pain, which seemed 
 suddenly to grip his throat; and then, as he. 
 paused, astonished at the strange association 
 of ideas, by some unknown law, he seemed to 
 87 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 see passing suddenly before his eyes, as plainly 
 as though he were reading it upon the yellowed 
 pages of his large Bible, those warning words 
 from the Book of Proverbs : " She shall hinder 
 thee from pondering on the way of life ; her 
 paths are deceitful ; thou knowest not whither 
 they shall lead thee." 
 
 The illusion was so strong that he stopped, 
 and passed his hand across his forehead. But 
 already the words, graven upon his mind by 
 an unseen hand, grew dim; and he began to 
 reproach himself for allowing such a base sug- 
 gestion to tarnish the thought of one who 
 seemed to be a person of great sweetness and 
 nobility of soul. 
 
 Quite unconsciously his hand clasped Zelia's 
 litde hand too tightly, and she disengaged it. 
 Then Bertha summoned him, to show him 
 Abraham, who, profiting by this little distrac- 
 tion, had slipped away toward the harbor. 
 
 A series of incidents, which are sometimes 
 signs of destiny, brought Monsieur Naudie 
 and Jane together. A number of times they 
 met each other on committees and in the 
 homes of the poor and the sick. Every- 
 where Jane appeared like a sunbeam, with a 
 most trustful smile. Her charity, fresh as 
 her own youth, gracious as her own beauty, 
 88 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife ^ 
 
 was not at all like the harsh charity which 
 places its benevolent deeds on account in the 
 savings-bank of heaven. She was a cheerful 
 consoler of sorrows, and she sowed her kind 
 deeds broadcast unconsciouslv, with a readiness 
 and eagerness which far exceeded the ordinary- 
 chary giving of doles ; and Monsieur Naudie 
 noted it and admired it. Each time that they 
 met, their interviews were more prolonged and 
 their conversation more intimate ; after having 
 consoled the sick upon their couches, or the 
 poor, whose restless eyes followed their every 
 movement, they conversed with each other and 
 walked together, talking over such and such a 
 hopeless paralytic, or such and such a widow 
 whose sorrow was very heavy. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie had not quite confessed to 
 himself his leaning toward these prearranged 
 meetings. He grew suddenly red as he said 
 to himself, " If I go to-day to this house of 
 sorrow, rather than to that other one, it is be- 
 cause I am more likely to find her at the 
 bedside," He did it, nevertheless. He even 
 forgot some of his own calculations, as he 
 marvelled at the frequency of their meetings ; 
 and he came to see, or almost to see, that in 
 these meetings there was an indication of the 
 approval of heaven. 
 
 89 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Two or three visits to the house of Monsieur 
 Defos — which he concealed from his children 
 — strengthened the invisible ties. But, al- 
 though he was drawn by an irresistible load- 
 stone, he reached no decision, and always found 
 in the path of his growing passion his unsatis- 
 fied conscience, bristling with scruples, easily 
 heaping up new obstacles. Feeble and spe- 
 cious, his heart said : " Why not ? God per- 
 mits it. Every man has a right to his share of 
 happiness. The children, too, will be happier. 
 Do they not need a mother ? " 
 
 Then conscience replied quickly : " You are 
 but slightly acquainted with her; you know 
 nothing about her except that she pleases you ; 
 you do wrong to place your future in her hands. 
 She is too rich, too young, too beautiful ; you 
 will be too happy." And this word " happy " 
 resounded continually in his heart, with sooth- 
 ing echoes, and aroused all those melodious 
 chords which make sweet music. 
 
 " If only," he thought, " I were able to write 
 to her, or able to speak to her all that I feel and 
 think, without the presence of that frigid aunt ! 
 Then I could learn to know her better ; I would 
 be able to take some decisive step." 
 
 Then his conscience stopped him. " Avoid 
 such an opportunity ! It is a snare." 
 90 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 " Seek it ! " responded his insidious heart ; 
 " and whatever the result may be, you will 
 have at least one happy hour in your im- 
 poverished life." 
 
 Jane wrote to him, — not a complex maze 
 of doubts, but scattered fragments of partial 
 confessions ; and she was surprised. Of an 
 active temperament, instinctively knowing how 
 to subordinate her will to the service of her 
 wishes, and keeping always before her the one 
 object whose pursuit absorbed her utterly, she 
 was quite unable to understand his hesitations 
 and misgivings. Already certain peculiar senti- 
 ments began to mingle with the romantic ex- 
 altation which she had mistaken for love. In 
 spite of the chill which had come to her femi- 
 nine vanity, and in spite of her impatience, she 
 was determined to succeed. Her infallible in- 
 stinct warned her that there was one thing — 
 her aunt's unsympathetic presence when Mon- 
 sieur Naudie came — which arrested the words 
 as they hung upon his lips, words which a 
 word or a look from her would have drawn 
 from him, in spite of himself, in one of those 
 moments when men are so weak and confiding. 
 She wished to put an end to this delay. 
 
 " It is a long time since we saw you in the 
 Rue Reaumur," said she to him one day, as 
 91 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 they were issuing from a humble home of afflic- 
 tion ; " you have given us up. Won't you 
 come to-morrow at about four o'clock ? " 
 
 She was aware that her aunt would be out 
 at that hour ; but she was careful not to 
 say so ; and Monsieur Naudie presented him- 
 self the next day, at the hour named, never sus- 
 pecting that this visit would be at all different 
 from other visits. It happened that at about 
 this time a new coat was brought home, which 
 he had ordered several days before, without 
 mentioning it to Esther. She was not a little 
 surprised at this bit of unusual indulgence, and 
 especially at seeing him quite eager to put this 
 on, and upon a working-day too. So she could 
 not forbear asking him where he was going. 
 
 Her question annoyed him ; he gave an 
 evasive answer ; he said he was going to pay a 
 visit ; then he hurried and went out, to avoid 
 any further questions. Esther's question, 
 simple as it was, showed him the necessity of 
 arriving at some conclusion, under penalty of 
 arousing local gossip ; certainly his going and 
 coming could not remain much longer un- 
 noticed. And he found himself more per- 
 plexed than ever. As he passed under the 
 arches of the Rue Chef-de-Ville, he encountered 
 his colleague. Monsieur Fridolin, a little thin 
 92 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 man, with a head like a bird, a smooth chin, 
 alert, talkative, a man gifted with much wordy 
 eloquence and untiring activity. Some articles 
 had been recently published, attacking the 
 Protestants. Monsieur Fridolin was much 
 excited, and began to quote one which seemed 
 to him directed against himself; then he de- 
 tailed the reply which he intended to make to 
 it, and spoke of other letters which he would 
 send to other papers, if the campaign were 
 kept up. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie listened in an absent sort 
 of way, his thoughts being far from these 
 quarrels, which he hated anyway, and he 
 finally tried to end the interview by saying: 
 " These controversies are to be regretted and 
 are unfruitful ; for my part, I cannot but feel 
 that it would be far better not to reply to such 
 unjust attacks. Silence is about the best 
 weapon that has ever been discovered against 
 calumny, and honesty always wins in the long 
 run." 
 
 As he said this, he held out his hand to his 
 colleague, to say good-by ; but, in place of 
 taking it, the other seized him by the arm, and 
 began to walk along with him, talking and 
 gesticulating excitedly. " Silence is not a 
 weapon," exclaimed the hot little man ; " it is 
 93 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 a surrender. Injustice is done to those who 
 remain silent. It is best to defend one's self, 
 when one has right and justice on his side. 
 The world is full of people who would like to 
 revive the dragonnades." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was by no means desirous 
 that his friend should see whither he was going. 
 So, instead of turning to the right into the 
 Rue Reaumur, he turned to the left, and came 
 presently into a shipyard. Monsieur Fridolin 
 talked continuously, as they walked among the 
 old hulks, and in a few moments the two 
 retraced their steps, and came back along the 
 street. 
 
 Time was passing, and Monsieur Naudie, 
 filled with impatience, and unwilling to keep 
 Jane waiting longer, finally stopped short 
 before Monsieur Defos's house, saying : " I am 
 going in here. If you would like to continue 
 this subject, at some other time, I shall be most 
 happy." 
 
 " Ah ! You are going to call on Monsieur 
 Defos. Yes ! He is a very remarkable man, 
 is n't he ? And madame ! what a good creature 
 she is ! " 
 
 Then he departed ; and Monsieur Naudie, as 
 he pulled the bell, reflected, " He too, doubt- 
 less, wonders what I am doing here." At that 
 94 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 moment the butler let him in, looking at him, 
 as he did so, with some interest. And the per- 
 plexed pastor again said to himself, " And this 
 man, also, wonders at my frequent visits." 
 
 The parlor was vacant. He stood waiting 
 before the " Jean " of Monsieur Bouguereau, 
 with its beautiful tints set off by its heavy 
 gold frame. " Yes, most certainly it is neces- 
 sary," said he, " to reach some decision, and not 
 delay any longer." Yet, though he had pon- 
 dered so long over the matter, he was no further 
 advanced toward a decision than on the first 
 day he dined there. Still, his heart spoke 
 more and more loudly, and the thought of 
 never seeing Jane again sent a chill through 
 his very marrow. 
 
 Soon Jane entered, and put out her hand. 
 " My aunt has gone to Rocheport," she said, 
 " and I am the only one here to welcome 
 you." 
 
 This was the situation so longed for and yet 
 so dreaded. Monsieur Naudie was conscious 
 of the same tumult within his breast, which 
 had so nearly overcome him when Monsieur 
 Defos first broached this matter. However, 
 he commanded himself, and replied, as he sat 
 down opposite the young girl : " Ah, then I 
 may take advantage of this occasion to say one 
 95 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 or two things, frankly, which I think you ought 
 to know. Thus I shall be able to return, toward 
 you, that full confidence which you have evinced 
 toward me." 
 
 His voice did not seem very steady. De- 
 spite the purpose which his opening words im- 
 plied, he did not seem to get hold of the ideas 
 which he wished to express. He coughed like 
 an embarrassed orator. Jane, for her part, sat 
 with her head gracefully inclined to one side, 
 looking at him from time to time through her 
 long eyelashes ; and so pretty and bewitching 
 was she that he could hardly keep from falling 
 at her feet like a young passionate lover of 
 twenty years. But he believed that he ought 
 to act in keeping with his age and profession. 
 
 He began again : " I will not rehearse the 
 difficulties of the task which you have so gen- 
 erously taken on yourself. I am sure that 
 you have carefully weighed them all. Is that 
 not so ? " 
 
 Jane murmured very sweetly in reply, "There 
 are no difficulties which cannot be overcome 
 with patience and love." 
 
 In picturing to himself beforehand this tran- 
 quil and yet decisive interview, which he had 
 hardly dared wish for. Monsieur Naudie had 
 told himself that he must make clear the great 
 96 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 difficulties of the new position ; but now this 
 reply of Jane's seemed to show, so plainly, that 
 she had gone over the whole ground candidly 
 herself, that he exclaimed, in an ingenuous 
 burst of trustfulness, " Oh, I know that you 
 will conquer them all, since it is by sheer 
 goodness, devotion, and the spirit of self-sacri- 
 fice that you are led to come to me ... to us, 
 I mean ; but this sacrifice which you are mak- 
 ing, — do you realize what it means for a person 
 of your youth ? " 
 
 "Is it a sacrifice?" asked she, raising her 
 eyes. " I am alone in the world. I am, indeed, 
 in the greatest loneliness possible, since I am 
 rich. You have no idea of the calculating ad- 
 venturers I have already perceived about me ; 
 not my uncle, by any means ! — he is a good 
 man, — but many others. Even at the board- 
 ing-school I was not treated like the others. 
 I came to mistrust all sympathy which was 
 shown me ; I became suspicious. It will be 
 much the same everywhere else in life." 
 
 A contradictory smile was outlined upon 
 her lips as she spoke. " You know very well 
 that the sacrifice is not so very great. What I 
 shall give up will be only the jealousies and 
 intrigues and shams of the world." 
 
 " I know that the world has its burdens and 
 1 97 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 its sins," said Monsieur Naudie ; " but it has 
 also — it must have — its pleasures also. You 
 do not consider that side now, mademoiselle ; 
 but some day, perhaps, you will regret giving 
 it all up ? If only I could believe that in ex- 
 change for these deprivations I would bring 
 you a little happiness ; but how can you wish 
 me to cherish such an illusion ? I know well 
 how much you will have to give up. Alas ! 
 what will you receive in its place ? And 
 here I come to a real difficulty, — a difficulty 
 so real that any right-minded person ought 
 not to think of ignoring it. I almost fear to 
 point it out to you in its full meaning, it is 
 such an impassable abyss." 
 
 This image of the abyss was undoubtedly a 
 remnant of Monsieur Naudie's habitual form 
 of oratorical expression. The sad vibrations 
 of his voice, and his keen anguish, were ex- 
 pressed vividly on his handsome face, and glo- 
 rified it. 
 
 " It is life, with its hard experiences, that has 
 created this abyss. They are two lives, yours 
 and mine, — your young life passed in goodness, 
 gayety, freedom from care ; my years of heavy 
 cares and disappointments and obstacles and 
 sorrows. You do not realize what life can 
 become for two hearts that are in accord, two 
 98 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 souls in harmony, according as it is kindly 
 or cruel. Ah, you cannot realize how life's 
 lessons may be transmuted in such a fashion 
 that they speak, each in its own language, and 
 yet never, never are fully understood. Ah, I 
 know that you have been put to a great test ; 
 but you were only a child, and God will not 
 allow the souls of little children to be torn with 
 sorrow. Their wounds heal quickly ; they pre- 
 serve their hopefulness and their strength." 
 
 Jane sat listening, in an attentive posture. 
 Monsieur Naudie perceived that his words 
 touched her. With his many years of bearing 
 heavy unshared griefs, he now yielded to the 
 weak, unworthy desire to which men at times do 
 yield, of laying bare their hungry worn hearts 
 to some woman, who must either pity or love 
 them ; he yielded to the burning desire, which 
 souls often feel, to come forth from their soli- 
 tude when a kindly gesture invites them. 
 
 " Between the happy people, mademoiselle, 
 and the unhappy, there is a world of difference. 
 For my part, I have never been among the 
 happy. And now it is too late to alter my 
 way of life. You see, I do not even know 
 how to be happy. I have known, with Job, 
 the days of adversity. You, who have gotten 
 through them in your early years, God grant 
 99 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 that you may never know them again ! Why 
 should I draw you within the circle of my life ? 
 Why should I overshadow you with my dark 
 experience? More than all this, between the 
 beloved ones who depend upon me for support, 
 and the Master to whom I have consecrated 
 my best effort, where shall I find leisure in 
 which to search for happiness, or, alas, leis- 
 ure to give it ? Your goodness has aroused a 
 thirst in my heart, and already I begin to re- 
 buke myself. Here below, all that I can do, 
 all that I ought to wish, is for the welfare of 
 my little family. Oh yes, for them I would 
 deeply desire happiness. You will bring it to 
 them, I am sure. But, in order to accept it 
 for them, it would be needful for me to forget 
 all that I have been saying, and other things, 
 also, which I have not said ; it were needful 
 for me to be another man, younger, better, 
 more worthy . . . Ah, there is the barrier, 
 mademoiselle, the great one; and when you 
 consider it carefully, you see that no amount of 
 well-wishing and good intentions can surmount 
 it. You will continue to be happy. As for me, 
 I will pursue my journey to the end, faithful 
 to my duty and destiny, as I have accepted it, 
 not complaining, since the Lord has ordered it. 
 Our acquaintance will remain in my soul as a 
 
 lOO 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 beautiful boundless dream, a sweet dream, 
 from which I have awakened." 
 
 Who shall analyze the close sympathy be- 
 tween our words, and the ideas and feelings 
 which they serve to express ? Monsieur Naudie 
 intended to speak, doubtless, in all sincerity ; 
 for he thought all that he had uttered. How- 
 ever, his sincerity was not entire, for an inner 
 voice warned him that he was pleading at cross 
 purposes. He knew, with a mysterious and 
 unavowed certainty, that at each of his words 
 Jane became more and more his ; he knew 
 that at a signal all his destiny was to be 
 changed, that destiny of which he had been 
 declaring himself the slave. And that signal, — 
 he was waiting for it. 
 
 For a moment silence settled over them, — 
 silence heavy with thoughts which could not 
 be expressed, shadowy sentiments which guide 
 vacillating wills and pave the way for deeds. 
 Then the young girl spoke. " Do you think 
 to teach me something by talking thus ? What, 
 indeed, is the bearing of all this ? Yes, what 
 does it signify, since I know it already, since I 
 accept it, since — " her voice grew faint, as she 
 added, " since I love you ! " 
 
 The word vibrated and lingered like a sound 
 which will not die out ; and Monsieur Naudie's 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 eyes filled with tears. As she glanced fur- 
 tively at him, Jane saw how overwhelmed he 
 was with emotion, and she resolved to go on. 
 She began to speak again, with a steadier voice, 
 and partly smiling : " You can surely see that 
 there is no obstacle, none at all. We will both 
 speak the same language, that of happiness ; 
 you will learn it ; it is easy, the world is full 
 of happiness ; why should not joy come from 
 God as well as sorrow ? See, it is he who 
 sends you, at last, your own just reward, and 
 it is I who bring it to you." 
 
 She arose and drew near to him with out- 
 stretched hands, waiting for one cry of love, 
 for a kiss. But, although at this moment all 
 that there was of the man in Monsieur Naudie 
 was stirred and upheaved, yet the habit of his 
 profession was stronger. Scarcely did he dare 
 to press against his lips the dainty hands, full of 
 caresses, which she offered him, and he sobbed 
 almost as if praying: "I thank you, oh, I 
 thank you, for saying this to me. Yes, you are 
 right ; happiness comes from God ; it should 
 be accepted just as it comes to us. I accept 
 mine, and bless you for it. And how great will 
 be the happiness of those whom I love, whom 
 you love already ! " 
 
 His words no longer quite fitted his thought 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 If he had spoken according to his heart. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie would have said that his love 
 was already too strong, and his thirst for hap- 
 piness too eager. And as he released Jane's 
 hands, and went on murmuring phrases in 
 which God was frequently referred to, the 
 young girl, without yet being conscious of it, 
 began to despise him because he was not more 
 overcome by passion, because he did not more 
 completely forget himself. 
 
 103 
 
PART SECOND 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ALL in due time came the first anniversary 
 of Monsieur Naudie's marriage. It 
 was decided to have a family dinner ; and, in 
 addition to the Defos family, William Naudie 
 came also, leaving his work, at Rocheport, all 
 the more willingly because of some little dis- 
 agreement which had arisen. The Fridolins 
 too were invited, as also Monsieur Lanthelme, 
 whose sarcastic manner always amused Jane. 
 Monsieur Naudie arose early, went into his 
 study, which was exquisitely furnished in the 
 English fashion, and busied himself at his day's 
 letter-writing. This charming study opened 
 out upon a garden where grew an old and 
 majestic cedar-tree ; and there, beside a little 
 pond, Zelia often passed considerable time 
 watching the gold-fish. The Naudie family 
 had now taken up their residence a short dis- 
 tance from the Defos family, in one of those 
 grand mansions in the Rue Reaumur, whose 
 104 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 large parlors have carefully preserved their old- 
 fashioned wainscoting, and handed it over to 
 us moderns like a souvenir of the grace and 
 beauty of the past century. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie opened a dozen letters. 
 Some of them asked assistance; alas! he re- 
 ceived so many of this kind that he could not 
 even reply to them. One of the other letters, 
 which seemed to amuse him, came from his 
 brother Paul ; the evangelist explained that he 
 wished to buy a barn, for his meetings, in a 
 certain Auvergne village, where the property- 
 owners had refused to rent him any of their 
 buildings, and he hoped that his brother would 
 assist him in this plan, " My enemies," he 
 wrote, "shall be put to shame, and shall be 
 compelled to confess that the Lord is with us ; 
 and, in spite of their evil intentions, the Word 
 shall resound at their very doors." 
 
 " No ! no ! " exclaimed the pastor, in a 
 loud voice, as if his brother were actually pres- 
 sent, listening to him, " nothing for this mis- 
 chievous proselyting; there are other and 
 more worthy needs." 
 
 Then he sat thinking how little he was able 
 
 to bestow, in relief of distress. For a moment 
 
 it came to him how small a part of his income 
 
 he was allowed to devote to charity ; four 
 
 105 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 house-servants, a carriage, two horses, and a 
 multitude of whimsical indulgences, — what was 
 there left for the poor? His family accounts 
 were about as hard to balance as in the old 
 days of his straitened circumstances ; only, the 
 columns- were now a little longer. He gave 
 a great deal of time to the conduct of his 
 affairs, and when he stopped to reflect upon 
 it, he reproached himself for letting them take 
 him so much from his duties. However, he 
 did not reflect very often. He was caught 
 up into a whirlwind of passion, following 
 about this fascinating, absorbing little being, 
 his wife, whom he knew no better now than 
 before, and whom he adored more than ever. 
 At this very moment she filled his thought, 
 and she so completely stifled the pain aroused 
 by these flooding letters, that he was really not 
 much disturbed by them, but turned constantly 
 to her. While his eye paused for a moment, 
 in glancing through their plaintive pages, he 
 was conscious of one unending refrain in his 
 heart, " I love her, I love her, oh, how dearly 
 I love her ! " Then at intervals another 
 voice would speak, — the voice which had 
 struggled with him before, — and it murmured, 
 deep in his soul : " You love her ? Why do 
 you love her ? " 
 
 io6 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 There was a rap at the door. Monsieur 
 Defos entered, on his way to his office, to say- 
 that Henry, whom they had expected that day, 
 had been delayed and would not be with them. 
 "Without him," said he, "we shall be thir- 
 teen at table, and, as you know, I am a lit- 
 tle superstitious ; so will you try to find a 
 fourteenth ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will try," replied Monsieur Naudie, 
 smiling ; " or perhaps the children need not 
 come to dine with us." Then he insisted that 
 his visitor should be seated for a moment, as he 
 had at that moment some advice to ask of him. 
 
 " The trouble is this," said he. " There are 
 those houses at Bordeaux ; our income is de- 
 rived in part from them, they represent a full 
 quarter of my wife's fortune. Now, they give 
 me a good deal of anxiety." 
 
 "How so?" inquired Monsieur Defos. 
 " Why, they are an excellent investment, one 
 of the best possible, one of the safest that I 
 could make for my niece ; as much as five per 
 cent, at least." 
 
 The other answered quietly, "Yes, without 
 doubt. Five per cent, on condition that the 
 occupants pay as they agree ; but what if they 
 do not pay? " 
 
 " Do not pay ? " exclaimed Monsieur Defos, 
 107 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 opening his eyes wide, staring and threatening. 
 " Why, they must be made to pay. Thank 
 Heaven, there are still good laws to protect 
 owners. And your agent? You have not 
 dismissed him, I hope ? " 
 
 " No, I have retained him." 
 
 " Very good ! He is a strong, capable man. 
 You have only to leave it to him." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's face assumed a careworn 
 expression, and he drew his hand thoughtfully 
 through his beard, as he said, "But I cannot 
 drive those people out into the street when 
 they are out of work, or are suiFering from 
 sickness ; I really cannot do it." 
 
 " Of course you cannot ; and you have no 
 need to. Leave all that to your agent ; he 
 will attend to it." 
 
 " And I shall be responsible, nevertheless." 
 
 Monsieur Defos raised his left hand and let 
 it fall, with a gesture of contempt, upon his 
 knee. "You are too much influenced by sen- 
 timent," he said. 
 
 " Listen ! " said Monsieur Naudie. " You 
 yourself, when you were acquainting me with 
 my wife's affairs, had a great deal to say about 
 the usefulness of this investment, in the aid it 
 gave these poor people to find good dwellings 
 at small cost." 
 
 108 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 " Ah, yes ; and are not your tenants given 
 reasonable terms, better than most others ? 
 All the more reason, then, that they should 
 pay their rents promptly." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie remained silent, because 
 he did not care to speak about this pitiless kind 
 of charity. 
 
 " See here, my dear friend ! " replied Mon- 
 sieur Defos, with his grand air. " If you in- 
 dulge any more in this weak sentimentality, you 
 are lost. It is a hard thing to be a millionaire. 
 The only way to carry on such a business suc- 
 cessfully and comfortably is to hold strictly by 
 the law. The law is the one standard which 
 ought to guide our actions. My principle is. 
 Never overstep the law ! Always make it serve 
 your interests / I commend, that same princi- 
 ple to you. It is simple, effective ; it solves 
 all difficulties. I don't see why the enforce- 
 ment of law should shock a Christian man. 
 Jesus himself said, ' Render unto Caesar that 
 which is Caesar's ! ' " 
 
 Again Monsieur Naudie was hurt by this 
 rigid, literal, and savage application of justice. 
 " I am not Caesar," said he, with a touch of 
 irony. 
 
 " No more am I," exclaimed Monsieur 
 Defos; "but . . ." 
 
 109 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 He did not finish this sentence ; the word 
 " but," spoken with a brusque tone, and accom- 
 panied by a gesture of the arms, showed clearly 
 thatj in his opinion, justice needed not to be 
 tempered by any mercy. 
 
 " Now, I cannot reason in that way," said 
 Monsieur Naudie. " To me it seems impos- 
 sible to compare the relations in which these 
 poor people stand to us, with the relations in 
 which we stand to God. The two are not 
 parallel." 
 
 " All right, then, sell your houses ! that is 
 the best thing you can do. I am at your 
 orders." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was about to accept the 
 offer with joy ; but it suddenly occurred to 
 him that such a change would probably de- 
 liver his poor tenants into the hands of this 
 dreadful man. It would simply be a new 
 way of hiding himself behind another person, 
 another way of shifting responsibility off his 
 own shoulders. " Thank you ! " he replied, 
 in a listless way ; " I will think it over, and we 
 will speak of it again later." 
 
 Monsieur Defos looked at his watch, and 
 arose, saying, " Very well, just as you wish ; 
 this evening, perhaps." 
 
 As soon as his visitor had gone out, Mon- 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 sieur Naudie set busily at work on his corre- 
 spondence. Presently his butler, Frederic, a 
 tall, withered, dignified-looking individual, ap- 
 peared at the door. A farmer had come to 
 beg the pastor to hasten as quickly as possible 
 to Marcilly, where a dying widow needed his 
 services. Frederic's scornful air said very 
 plainly that in his opinion the pastor ought 
 not to be disturbed in any such way. 
 
 " I will go at once," said Monsieur Naudie. 
 Then, hesitating, he added, " Have the horses 
 hitched up ! " 
 
 Usually he avoided using the carriage ; its 
 luxurious presence weighed upon him and 
 caused him regret; but to-day his wish to 
 return quickly overcame his scruples. Wish- 
 ing to recall to his wife the memories of the 
 day just commencing, he went out into the 
 garden to gather some roses for her ; then he 
 returned and knocked gently at her door, but 
 she made no response. So he entered. She 
 was still asleep, with the easy sleep of a happy 
 child, charmingly beautiful in the careless dis- 
 order of her dishevelled black hair. Oh, to 
 awaken her by stealing the kisses which seemed 
 to blossom, like flowers, upon her parted red 
 lips ! But he dared not, for he never gave 
 
 himself up to the free expression of his emo- 
 III 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tions toward his wife ; he concealed them from 
 her, just as he concealed her little deceits from 
 himself. He contented himself, therefore, with 
 gazing at her a moment, holding the bouquet 
 in his hand ; then he spread the roses out over 
 the coverlid, and with a troubled heart went 
 out quietly. 
 
 The children, who were starting for school, 
 had paused beside the carriage ; they embraced 
 him ; then he entered the carriage, and the 
 sound of its wheels upon the pavement went 
 echoing through the silent street, with its row 
 of dignified sombre old mansions on either 
 side. 
 
 The village of Marcilly is the only one of 
 the adjoining Protestant districts which has 
 been restored to the parish of La Rochelle. 
 The two pastors took turns in visiting it, each 
 fortnight. In former days Monsieur Naudie 
 was accustomed to go his rounds on foot, 
 partly for the exercise, and partly to save the 
 expense of a carriage. He walked then with 
 a strong, steady gait ; carrying his coat on his 
 arm, and with his forehead perspiring under 
 his thick, heavy hat, he strode vigorously along 
 the path which wound among the fields, and 
 was bordered by young trees bending gracefully 
 under the pressure of the west wind. It is a 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 bare, melancholy landscape. Here and there, 
 hidden away in a group of trees, or grouped 
 around some old church, you will see, rising, 
 the low roofs of squat-looking houses, gray 
 like the tilled fields which the sun and wind 
 have dried up. At times you will see wind- 
 mills, with their sails fluttering in the breeze, 
 and groves of great rugged trees, and, occa- 
 sionally, a row of tall, slender poplars. On 
 the right and on the left the sea appears, as a 
 continuation of the level plain, intersected by 
 the dark line of the island of Re, — a black 
 mark on a blank page. An exhalation of sad- 
 ness seems to be continually rising from this 
 desolate landscape, and a harsh wind blows 
 continuously across it. Yet, in the spring 
 mornings, the birds sing among the trees and 
 among the fields of young wheat. After two 
 hours of rapid walking, the pastor could reach 
 Marcilly. The square tower of the ancient 
 church, with steeple dismantled in some old 
 fray, sent forth peals of welcome by its bell, 
 calling upon the worshippers of another faith 
 to come to service. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie entered a narrow lane, at 
 the right, which led to a humble temple of the 
 Reformed Protestant Church. Within, there 
 was a small square hall, principally occupied by 
 
 8 113 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 a low platform. The pastor seemed to be a part 
 of the congregation ; and he felt that he was 
 talking to them as individuals, standing thus 
 in their very midst. He was fond of the plain 
 peculiar people gathered here, — the two or 
 tjiree gaunt old men, and the silent old women, 
 in queer caps ; their troubles seemed to him much 
 like his own. They were hardly more bur- 
 dened by their daily cares than was he ; their 
 families, which were almost always numerous, 
 gave them no greater trials than did his own ; 
 the little beings which they had brought into 
 life are like grains of seed, which sprout and 
 bud under a little sun and rain ; they struggle 
 and grow, nourished by their powerful neigh- 
 bor, and quickly become usefiil, and soon are 
 scattered abroad. As he spoke to these 
 people, and listened to them and observed them, 
 the pastor had sometimes seen a peculiar phase 
 of the hard problem of pauperism. Poverty 
 here was different from that in the cities; it 
 was not so oppressive ; it seemed not so much 
 an enemy as an educator ; for it abounded 
 in wise counsels, it tended to develop sym- 
 pathy, and it taught that each day was to be 
 accepted, just as it came, just as the earth and 
 the seasons made it. 
 
 Thus Monsieur Naudie used to reflect, in 
 114 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 the old days of his own straitened circumstances. 
 Now, as he followed the familiar road, and as 
 he entered the well-known place of worship, 
 his impressions were different. His hearers did 
 not look upon him in quite the same way ; 
 something seemed to separate him from them. 
 Moreover, his terms of service at Marcilly 
 seemed to him more and more like drudgery, 
 which he avoided as often as he honestly could. 
 To-day, rocked and lulled by the regular move- 
 ments of the carriage, his view cut off by the 
 bulky form of the driver, he paid no attention 
 to the scenery, which was flooded with the 
 clear light of a summer morning, and he re- 
 volved various shadowy unquiet thoughts in 
 his mindi 
 
 A sad scene soon drove away, far a while, 
 his own personal cares. It was a woman, still 
 young, in the midst of squalor, resting on a 
 couch, without power of recognition, and almost 
 without breathing, so near to death that already 
 the barrier of unconsciousness shut her off from 
 this life. Three children, of tender age, were 
 huddled in a frightened way in a corner, an 
 abandoned brood, poor little creatures, cower- 
 ing in the presence of a sorrow which they 
 could not understand. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie tried to question them. 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Are you all alone ? Is there nobody here ?' 
 Has n't the doctor come ? " But they could 
 make no reply. They gazed at him with 
 troubled eyes, and stood before him as if 
 petrified. 
 
 " Poor little creatures ! " he said, caressing 
 them. Then he leaned over the sick woman, 
 trying to make out what last wishes she might 
 have at the bottom of her heart. Her dim 
 eyes seemed to express some desire, but her 
 lips moved not. 
 
 " God will care for them, be sure of that," 
 he said tenderly. "You have done right to 
 call me. Whatever I can do, shall be done. 
 Now I will pray with you." A great pity 
 filled his soul for these unfortunates, smitten 
 thus by the hand of that One whose ways we 
 know not. And at the same time he thought 
 of his own little ones and of their dead 
 mother ; and these memories made his sym- 
 pathy all the stronger, more intelligent, and 
 more delicate, and strengthened his desire to 
 help them. 
 
 He prayed, although the poor woman seemed 
 to take no notice ; then he reassured her, and 
 again comforted the children. As he was about 
 to go, a little girl held him back, and a little 
 tearful voice begged him, " Don't go ! not yet ! " 
 n6 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Several moments passed thus, in prayer and 
 waiting ; and Monsieur Naudie thought of 
 Jane, who doubtless was waiting for him, and 
 would reproach him for his delay ; or, alas ! 
 would she reproach him ? The arrival of a 
 neighbor finally allowed him to depart. As 
 he laid three gold pieces on the table, the 
 neighbor exclaimed, "Ah, anybody can see 
 that you are rich." 
 
 He promised to return, and climbed into his 
 carriage. As he went his rounds, the country- 
 people, the very ones who had formerly seemed 
 so near to him, seemed to evince a new attitude 
 of respect ; a respect such as the poor show 
 toward the rich, but not what they should have 
 toward a servant of God. Their glances fol- 
 lowed him, and behind his back they exchanged 
 remarks secretly upon his equipage, his im- 
 proved condition, and upon his good luck. 
 
 Ah, but he had not bettered himself. There 
 were cares weighing upon him now which once 
 had not troubled him, cares which seemed to 
 keep him far from God ; and the great hap- 
 piness, which he had thought within his grasp, 
 diminished from day to day. The ecstasy of 
 devotion and piety which Jane had at first 
 shown, had not survived three months of mar- 
 ried life. The duties which she had taken upon 
 117 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 herself so lightly she had repudiated with equal 
 readiness. At the first difference arising be- 
 tween herself and the children, she had ceased 
 to love theni ; she took no more interest in the 
 poor and the afflicted ; she did not care for her 
 husband, she cared only for herself. One of 
 those sudden changes which had made her cold, 
 critical uncle uneasy, had transformed her into 
 a self-absorbed, frivolous creature, excessively 
 solicitous about the insignificant things of life, 
 capricious, fitful; yet her beautiful quiet eyes 
 held out the same promises of goodness, and 
 she seemed to glow with the love of loving, and 
 of the joy of living. She was like a superb 
 block of marble, out of which a clumsy sculptor 
 had failed to carve a masterpiece, or like a heavy 
 mass of common stone which no chisel could 
 ever ennoble ; she was like a mysterious stream, 
 whose unfathomable waters sent forth both 
 flecks of gold and bitter poison. 
 
 Already Monsieur Naudie meditated much 
 upon her, growing critical over petty details 
 which heightened his unwise and almost un- 
 natural infatuation. Had he not to-day done 
 wrong in leaving her without saying good-bye, 
 and especially in staying away so long ? Would 
 she have wished him to go out without telling 
 her, on such an anniversary day as this ? In- 
 ii§ 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 deed, how much did she care for the anniver- 
 sary ? Perhaps it caused her regret, and perhaps 
 her careless hands would not trouble to gather 
 up the roses which he had scattered about her. 
 
 But even while he surrendered himself to 
 such childish reflections. Monsieur Naudie was 
 haunted by more serious thoughts ; for he mur- 
 mured softly, again and again, " Oh, how I do 
 Ipve her ! Oh, I love her too much," and he 
 repeated, as if he were censuring himself, "Yes, 
 I love her far too much." 
 
 At the same time he perceived with impa- 
 tience that the carriage was not moving fast, 
 and he called to the driver : " Go faster, please ! 
 We shall be too late for breakfast," 
 
 At the same moment, the whole situation 
 passed rapidly before his mind. He com- 
 pared the misery which he had just seen with 
 his own abundance, and the sympathy which 
 cut into his heart with the actions of those who 
 made life so bitter for the poor. He explored 
 the depths of his soul, and trembled, as he 
 found it possessed of one sole idea, one sole 
 desire ; he recalled the verse in Proverbs which 
 had been such a mysterious warning to him ; 
 and a dull fear took possession of him. 
 
 119 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AS the carriage bowled along toward home. 
 Monsieur Naudie's reflections pressed 
 upon him more and more heavily. Patient as 
 he was in most respects, to-day he felt urged 
 by a feverish haste to return to his household ; 
 and his heart quickened its beating, through a 
 vague anxiety as to what was there awaiting 
 him. The carriage, meanwhile, rolled through 
 the Dauphine gate and crossed the city at a 
 rapid pace. Several persons of his acquaint- 
 ance gave him respectful salutations, turned 
 around to gaze after his equipage, and after- 
 ward exchanged comments with one another, 
 or stood silent and thoughtful. The town 
 had not yet, in fact, gotten over talking about 
 his marriage ; people could not forget in a 
 moment the many years during which Mon- 
 sieur Naudie had been a familiar figure in the 
 old streets and among the antique arches, 
 wrapped closely in his threadbare old frock- 
 coat, or with his thin overcoat buttoned tightly 
 about him. Now that he had become a 
 capitalist, people remarked in the usual exag- 
 gerated way, " We shall never see him except 
 
 120 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 in a coach." And the public eye was levelled 
 at him and his new surroundings, with a little 
 of that cruel curiosity which predicts misfor- 
 tune, counts on dangers ahead, and prophesies 
 evils to come. In front of the Cafe Fran9ois, 
 Monsieur Naudie's carriage encountered Mon- 
 sieur Dehodecq and Monsieur Lanthelme, who 
 were sauntering together along the sidewalk. 
 They saluted him, paused in their conversa- 
 tion, glanced significantly at each other, and 
 Monsieur Dehodecq said : " Happily as that 
 aiFair has turned out, and charming as is their 
 home, yet the pastor was guilty of great rash- 
 ness. We may venture to say that, of course, 
 strictly between ourselves." 
 
 " Why do you think thit ? " asked Monsieur 
 Lanthelme, who had always a way peculiar to 
 himself of defending his pastor ; namely, by 
 tearing him in pieces leisurely, as if he held in 
 his claws an unusually choice morsel. 
 
 " Why, just think of it ! " said Monsieur 
 Dehodecq. " At his age ! There can be no 
 doubt, can there, that she is at least fifteen 
 years younger than he is. And then» such 
 a diiference in their conditions ! Why, he 
 always lived in a state closely approaching 
 destitution." 
 
 Monsieur Lanthelme wriggled uneasily at 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 these words. Monsieur Dehodecq went on : 
 " It was a great match. He captured her, 
 we grant that, but he had good luck. Only 
 think what risks a pastor runs when he plunges 
 into an affair of that sort J It is useless to 
 say, ' Oh, he is a man like other men.' The 
 consequences of an act like his are of the 
 greatest importance, in his position ; and his 
 responsibilities are equally great." 
 
 Monsieur Lanthelme's little eyes glowed 
 brightly in his red face. He was an out- 
 spoken freethinker, who went to church only 
 to find fault with the sermons ; he hated theo- 
 logians, and never lost an opportunity to have 
 a rap at them. " Pooh ! " said he, " the famous 
 Strauss married a public singer." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " exclaimed Monsieur 
 Dehodecq. 
 
 " Entirely so. It is true he ended by 
 divorcing her, but only after they had lived 
 very happily together for several years. Of 
 course he could n't see into the future. His 
 letters to an intimate friend have been pub- 
 lished. They are excellent reading, you may 
 be sure." 
 
 He hugely enjoyed his companion's astonish- 
 ment, and he returned to the subject. " May 
 Heaven keep Monsieur Naudie from any such 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 fate ! The thing that I like about him is that 
 his prosperity has n't spoiled him one bit. He 
 puts just as much work into his sermons as 
 ever, and they are no worse than they used 
 to be, A case like his is worthy of all praise. 
 He reminds me of a friend of mine, whose con- 
 ditions were somewhat like his. He preached 
 better, but he was n't so successful in resisting 
 the temptations of fortune. He had remained 
 unmarried, in the most prudent fashion. Then 
 one fine day — he was not much younger than 
 Monsieur Naudie — he found, directly in hig 
 path, a dowry. Yes ! an enormous one. You 
 see, a young girl, an orphan like Mademoiselle 
 Defos, had vowed that she would marry a 
 minister and only a minister ; for there are 
 people who have such whims. No sooner 
 were they married than she put on the pastoral 
 robe, though she didn't go into the pulpit. 
 The Consistory filed a protest. But it did no 
 good ! She presided over committees, started 
 numerous beneficent schemes, and wrote some 
 doctrinal treatises of a controversial nature. As 
 to theology, I never could see why they shut 
 women out; their qualifications are singularly 
 adapted to its requirements ; they have a cer- 
 tain illusive spirit, you know. Well, what 
 was the husband doing all this time ? Why, 
 123 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 he was attending to the business affairs of the 
 household ; and doing it well too, I must 
 admit. He had given attention to the parable 
 of the talents, and had made his multiply." 
 
 Here Monsieur Lanthelme broke out into a 
 bitter kind of laugh, enjoying his own mali- 
 ciousness. Monsieur Dehodecq had been lis- 
 tening, with that close, labored attention which 
 he gave to everything, 
 
 "That is an accusation," said he, reflect- 
 ively, " which could be urged against us also, 
 quite as easily as it could be urged against 
 Monsieur Naudie, if he turned out badly. But 
 such circumstances as his are very rare. Out 
 of the six or seven hundred pastors among our 
 clergy, how many do you suppose you could 
 find who had made rich marriages ? Three or 
 four, at the most." 
 
 " Without counting, however," said Mon- 
 sieur Lanthelme, " those whom marriage has 
 simply lifted above the level of need. Oh, you 
 need n't be so eager to defend them, I 'm not 
 inclined to blame them. How do you suppose 
 they manage to support themselves with a 
 salary of about four hundred dollars? Cer- 
 tainly a wife with a dowry is more needful for 
 them than for any other profession. They 
 have cares of all sorts, with their large families." 
 124 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Dehodecq remained silent, weigh- 
 ing seriously these bantering words, quite un- 
 conscious of the disguised malice. Presently 
 he said with a long breath, " Well, Monsieur 
 Naudie is safe under cover now." 
 
 Excited by the love of controversy, Mon- 
 sieur Lanthelme retorted : " Safe under cover, 
 yes ; but safe from what ? From poverty 
 only. His children have a plenty to eat, and 
 so does his horse. But ... are there no other 
 dangers ? " 
 
 " What, for example ? " 
 
 " Oh, my dear friend, you ask me too much. 
 The future alone can reveal. Marriage is a 
 fairly good bulwark, but it does n't guarantee 
 one against all accidents." 
 
 Meanwhile, Monsieur Naudie, as soon as he 
 reached home, went in search of Jane ; he was 
 nervous, and was eager to wish her "many 
 happy returns of the day." She was in her 
 boudoir, adjoining the large parlor and open- 
 ing also upon the garden ; a tiny room, which 
 she reserved for her own occupancy. It was 
 padded and cushioned with modern stuffs, so 
 that its antique flavor was gone. It had nothing 
 of antiquity about it, except its muUioned win- 
 dows, which were crowded with English vases 
 and foreign books, Jane was arrayed in a 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 white tea-gown, her finely cut features and her 
 pretty little head rising up from a sea of lace. 
 She seemed to be busy arranging some papers 
 at a wooden desk brought from England, th« 
 key to which she alone possessed. This pri- 
 vate desk was looked upon by her husband 
 with that kind of dull uneasiness which one 
 often feels, as he looks upon some mysterious 
 symbols, or at silent lips, or on illegible writ" 
 ing. As she heard him enter, the young wife 
 turned slowly, without laying down the " por- 
 trait album " which she held in her hand. 
 Monsieur Naudie kissed her upon the fore- 
 head ; but the words which he was eager to 
 utter died upon his lips, as he noticed the 
 photograph before her. It was that of a young 
 man, handsome^ with large mustaches, eager 
 eyes, and features of a Roman type. He had 
 a melodramatic air, with arms crossed under a 
 kind of Spanish cloak, and forehead concealed 
 by a sombrero ; he had taken the kind of pose 
 which is usually taken under similar drcum- 
 stances by much admired artistSj pianists, sing- 
 ers, actors, and acrobats. Below, under some 
 notes of music, could be read this verse, 
 scrawled by a clumsy hand, Vorrei poterti dot 
 quel fo^ che rest a . . . 
 
 With his right arm Monsieur Naudie encir- 
 126 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 cled lighdy his wife's gracefial form ; for an 
 instant he struggled with himself; then, over- 
 come, he took with his left hand a corner of 
 the picture, lifted it, Jane still retaining her 
 hold, and asked, " What is this thing ? " 
 
 The young wife smiled ; her eyes wandered 
 from the picture to her husband, as if she were 
 drawing a mischievous comparison between the 
 two faces, so different from each other. 
 
 " That ? " said she. " That is Beltram." 
 
 "Beltr&m?" 
 
 " You don't seem to know the name. Oh, 
 my dear friend, you don't know very much. 
 Beltram is a famous singer. He stirred up 
 all London. He sang in the very best houses. 
 He is an Italian. How handsome he is ! " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie drew his finger along the 
 line of writing below. " And that ? That is 
 his autograph, I suppose." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " He gave you this picture ? " 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 "With this piece of impertinence under- 
 neath ? " 
 
 " That is no impertinence. It is the first 
 line of a famous ballad of Tosti's ; " and she 
 broke out singing to a familiar air, "Donna, 
 vorrei morir ..." 
 
 127 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's forehead contracted. 
 His wife again spoke in a dreamy sort of 
 way: "Oh, how beautifully he did sing ! You 
 would n't believe I could have been so in- 
 fatuated with him," 
 
 With one movement Monsieur Naudie re- 
 leased the photograph and his wife, murmuring, 
 " Ah, indeed . . . indeed . . . ! " 
 
 " Yes, I was seventeen. A singer ! An 
 artist!. You understand. He came to sing at 
 my relative's house in London, during my 
 Easter holiday. Oh, what a voice ! Oh, what 
 eyes ! " 
 
 " Don't you think that perhaps you admired 
 him a little too much ? " 
 
 Jane did not choose to comprehend the 
 bearing of this delicate insinuation. She went 
 on glibly : " What I mean is that I was com- 
 pletely fascinated by him. Nothing less, my 
 dear. Quite infatuated. I lost sleep, I dreamed 
 only of him, I wished to die. Oh, it was all 
 just like the romances in the novels." 
 
 One question pressed forward to Monsieur 
 Naudie's lips. He finally uttered it. "And 
 he . . . did he know this ? " 
 
 "There, there! How jealous you are!" 
 retorted Jane, in place of answering his ques- 
 tion. " Don't you know that it was only a 
 128 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 young girl, my dear ? Why do they send us 
 girls to boarding-schools, from fifteen to our 
 marriage, if it is not for us to dream and 
 gossip about love? Well, Beltram lasted 
 about six months. Before that, there was a 
 vicar . . . Oh don't open your eyes so wide, I 
 beg. He was a very old vicar, with a great 
 white beard. Afterward there was a painter, a 
 very celebrated one, of whom I never saw any- 
 thing except the portrait. And then there 
 were others, whose names I don't at this mo- 
 ment recall. They have passed away like the 
 reflections in a running stream. And then, 
 then you came, — yes, you." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie grew darker and darker, 
 as he listened; but he dared not say any- 
 thing, for fear of being ridiculous. " I think, 
 though," he ventured, "that you have not 
 put me in quite the same category with 
 them." 
 
 " Oh no, no ! " said Jane, reflectively. 
 " Now, they have all gone by ; but you — you 
 are still here." 
 
 She was searching among the photographs 
 in the drawer. " Hold ! " said she. " Here 
 is the vicar's picture." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie gave one glance at the 
 face, — that of a grand dignified old man, much 
 9 129 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 like his own father, — and then tossed the 
 picture back among the others. 
 
 " Now," said Jane, " you know all my 
 secrets." 
 
 " All ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 " I wish to tell you everything that I 
 recollect." 
 
 " There is, however, one . . . one, which I 
 do not know." 
 
 "Oh, what?" 
 
 Standing directly in front of her, he took 
 both her hands, looked straight into her eyes, 
 and spoke in a voice which trembled with 
 passion. " There is . . . there," and he 
 kissed her forehead, " there, behind that im- 
 penetrable wall, there in that heart, in that 
 soul which belongs to me and yet has escaped 
 me . . . your secret thoughts, those which 
 you have never told me, those which I have 
 not been able to read in your eyes ... If 
 you really love me ... or, rather, if there is 
 anything separating us which I do not know 
 about . • . if you have given yourself to me 
 only to tear yourself away again . . . Oh, why 
 do you play with me, and cause me such pain ! 
 That — that is what I wish to know." 
 
 He groaned with an agony which had been 
 too long pent up, which now for the first time 
 130 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 burst forth. Jane disengaged her hands, and 
 said in a calm voice : " I have never seen you 
 like this, my dear. Is it because of Beltram, 
 who ... ?" 
 
 " Ah, it is because," exclaimed he, " because 
 you do not know ..." 
 
 Without speaking, she leaned again over the 
 drawer, took out another picture, and handed 
 it to her husband. " There," said she, " look 
 at that ! This time you won't be so jealous." 
 
 It was the photograph of a young girl, of 
 delicate features, somewhat monotonous, with 
 hair arranged in the Greek style ; a classic 
 Anglo-Saxon type, such as is often seen in the 
 magazines. " A boarding-school friend," said 
 Jane ; " but what a friend ! She never left me ; 
 she thought only about me. She would not 
 allow me to even speak to the others. And 
 such jealous scenes ! and such fits of despair 
 when the holidays came ! Oh, how it bored 
 me ! 
 
 She tossed the picture back into the drawer, 
 and closed it with a bang ; remarking, as if in 
 a soliloquy, " You never love a person who 
 loves you too much." 
 
 131 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AS Monsieur Naudie came out of Jane's 
 boudoir after this interview, which 
 caused him much uneasiness, he encountered 
 Madame Defos. Every day, during several 
 months past, Madame Defos had been accus- 
 tomed, either just before breakfast or immedi- 
 ately after, to present herself at her niece's 
 house, in the role of a tender mother, over- 
 anxious, borne along by her maternal solici- 
 tude. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie, who was always of a 
 trustful nature, believed at the outset in her 
 friendship, and judged her, not by her per- 
 sonal appearance and arrogant manner, but by 
 her general reputation. She was commonly 
 understood to be " a good woman, kindly dis- 
 posed despite her apparent severity, reliable, 
 of superior intelligence, but very retiring, even 
 a little shy ; saying little, and somewhat over- 
 shadowed by the luminous presence of her 
 husband, to whom she always conceded the 
 superior position." 
 
 Possibly she deserved this reputation ; pos- 
 sibly, also, she never indulged in follies, be- 
 132 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 cause she had no leaning that way, and no 
 favorable occasion offered itself. 
 
 However her real nature might have re- 
 vealed itself, those favoring conditions were 
 wanting, in her little circle, which prepare the 
 way for the logic of events ; and she was the 
 first to see that, with all the clairvoyance of 
 bitterness. Since the day when her husband 
 went out to the Indies, before the time, 
 even, when her niece came to La Rochelle, 
 Madame Defos had decided that the young 
 girl's dowry must not go out of the family, 
 and that it ought to come into the hands 
 of Henry, her favorite son. This simple 
 idea, whose realization seemed an easy mat- 
 ter, germinated under her low ilat brow, 
 spread out to her temples, as if to include 
 all that they contained, and at once became 
 a fixed idea. Monsieur Defos's suggestion 
 regarding the young girl's marriage astonished 
 her as soon as she heard it. She could not 
 appreciate his scruples, honest though ambi- 
 tious man that he was ; but he was capable of 
 giving up all gain, rather than stand in oppo- 
 sition to law or to custom, or even to his own 
 ideals of propriety. She opposed these scru- 
 ples with all her power, without anybody ever 
 having a suspicion of the anger it aroused in 
 ^33 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 her. If she yielded, it was only because she 
 was afraid that Jane might carry her fortune 
 even farther away, and lay it at the feet of 
 some Beltram. But she conceded the point 
 only because she must, and she held her reser- 
 vations, and was filled with enmity toward the 
 man who had snatched away from her this 
 coveted wealth. During the earlier days of 
 the marriage, she believed that all was smooth 
 contentment in the new family, and she could 
 not rise above her resentment, but sulked and 
 waited. Later she revived a little, for she de- 
 tected in this rosy heaven one black spot. 
 Monsieur Naudie, as her cold indifference 
 passed away, rejoiced over her return, even 
 as they rejoice in heaven over the conversion 
 of a sinner, and never questioned for a moment 
 her entire sincerity ; his frank eyes could not 
 read the secrets of complex souls ; and, in 
 Madame Defos's soul, hatred engraved inde- 
 cipherable characters on her loyalty. 
 
 When she saw him come forth, in a dis- 
 turbed state of mind, from Jane's boudoir, 
 Madame Defos hastened to meet him, her 
 face wearing a maternal smile which called 
 out his trustfulness. 
 
 " You are so pale ! " she said. " Are you in 
 
 any pain ? ' 
 
 134 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " No, no, thank you ! I am well, very well 
 indeed." 
 
 Insinuating and soothing, she ventured ten- 
 derly, " Some little difference with your wife ? " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie wished to deny this, but 
 she would not listen to him. "Oh, I under- 
 stand all that ! " she said ; " even between peo- 
 ple who agree perfectly well in general, little 
 misunderstandings will sometimes arise, — mere 
 nothings ! — especially during the earlier days 
 of married life. However, it is best to be 
 through with them as soon as possible. Tell 
 me, now, what the trouble is ; I will try to 
 arrange matters a little." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie perceived neither the 
 wicked delight which gleamed in her eyes, nor 
 the enmity which was expressed by her thin, 
 drawn lips. Trustful and sad, he replied : " It is 
 only a little thing, and I think I must be in the 
 wrong about it. We have been talking, Jane 
 and I, and she has been telling me about some 
 of her earlier love-affairs ; the recital caused me 
 some pain, and I did not know enough to con- 
 ceal it. There ! that is all." 
 
 " Ah, Beltram ! " exclaimed Madame Defos, 
 at once. 
 
 " How did you know . . . ? " 
 
 " Oh, indeed I did. He gave us a great deal 
 ^35 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of uneasiness, that insipid fop. I never under- 
 stood exactly how he gained such an influ- 
 ence over poor Jane, but there was a time when 
 we feared greatly. Between ourselves, I feel 
 persuaded that if she had not been under age, 
 this robber would have carried her away. 
 Luckily the law is very severe on such deeds 
 as that ; but the poor child was certainly much 
 infatuated." 
 
 " I did not suppose," stammered Mon- 
 sieur Naudie, "that the affair went as far as 
 that . . ." 
 
 " Has she not told you all, then ? " 
 
 "All?" 
 
 " Oh, calm yourself! There was nothing 
 very serious, no, no ! But you must remember 
 that she was a spoiled child, and very wilful. 
 She has changed very much since then. In 
 those days her little fancies went flying and 
 flying. . . . Ah, she might have been led, . . . 
 heaven knows where^ Oh, she has had only 
 those childish caprices ; at least, I am almost 
 sure about that. They have not troubled us, 
 — us who have had charge of her. But you 
 must not think any more about such things. 
 Don't be jealous ! I honestly believe you have 
 no cause to be. Besides, it all went by, six 
 years ago. Beltram is far removed from her 
 136 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 thoughts, far ! She scarcely ever hums that 
 song of his." 
 
 She left him, carrying away a recollection 
 which to her was delightful ; it was the sight of 
 Monsieur Naudie, standing as if rooted to the 
 ground, as he stared back at the mysterious 
 past, which made the present, already perplex* 
 ing enough, seem more perplexing still. And 
 the future . . . 
 
 By the time that Madame Defos had 
 knocked at the door of Jane's boudoir, she 
 had matured her plan. With an excited man- 
 ner and with staring eyes, she advanced toward 
 her niece, crying out, — and glancing swiftly 
 around her, as if guarding against an eaves- 
 dropper, — " Oh, my dear child, what have 
 you done? I have just met your husband, 
 there in the hall ; he is angry, beside himself 
 You have said what you ought not. You 
 must have told him things . . . things . . . 
 Oh, Jane, it is necessary to be very careful. 
 With a man such as he is, I repeat, it is 
 necessary to be especially careful." 
 
 Jane still retained a vivid impression of 
 her husband's sad and patient manner. He 
 had seemed to suffer, without daring to pro- 
 test ; perhaps, indeed, she was touched by his 
 patient sweetness, and reproached herself for 
 137 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 her needless cruelty. Madame Defos went on 
 talking glibly. She said that she had feared 
 for some time that there was trouble in the 
 family. Her own reason, she said, for oppos- 
 ing this marriage had been that she saw before- 
 hand that Monsieur Naudie was a man of 
 suspicious, unjust nature. Such feelings as his, 
 easily understood in the case of a young man, 
 somewhat excusable because of youthful pas- 
 sion, became unpardonable in the case of a 
 mature man like him, cold, calculating . . . 
 
 " What did he say ? " demanded Jane. 
 
 " Oh, he told me all his woes. He finds 
 you vain and frivolous. He asked me about 
 Beltram, evidently dwelling upon what you 
 had told him. Why did you unfold that little 
 narrative to him ? Be more cautious in the 
 future! I warn you." 
 
 Judging that she had made an impression, 
 Madame Defos prepared to go. " I only ran 
 in a moment, my dear, as I was passing," said 
 she, " to tell you that Henry will not be with 
 us this evening. How I do long to see him 
 again ! And I am rather anxious about him." 
 
 " What is the matter with him ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; but he is such a stormy 
 nature. A great many things pass through 
 his mind which he says nothing about. His 
 138 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 father never notices anything out of the way ; 
 but I notice, I surmise, I have my fears." 
 
 Her manner changed greatly as she spoke 
 about her son ; her features became more 
 relaxed, and her hard eyes grew more ten- 
 der. Thus every soul takes on different 
 colors, according to the star which shines up- 
 on it. 
 
 When Jane was finally left to herself, she 
 fell into a kind of reverie ; presently she ap- 
 proached the window, which was half-open ; 
 the children were scattered about the garden 
 waiting for the bell to call them to break- 
 fast. Under the old cedar, whose dense wide- 
 spreading branches cast a deep shadow, sat 
 Esther, with Zelia beside her, explaining to 
 the child some difficult passage in one of her 
 school-books. Abraham, stormy and boister- 
 ous, with his cap tipped over one ear, and 
 with his pockets stuffed with all sorts of things, 
 was talking with Bertha, who was standing at 
 the edge of the little pond, and was looking 
 very charming in her white gown. For a 
 moment Jane's gaze wandered over the two 
 groups of children ; it expressed only indif- 
 ference and antipathy. She had dreamed of 
 bringing great happiness into their lives ; but 
 between them and herself no affection had 
 139 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 grown up. Indeed the reverse had happened; 
 she had been repulsed by their first shyness 
 and distrust, and had lacked that patience 
 which alone could gain their hearts after they 
 had been so naturally oiFended by this strange 
 invasion of their family circle. The privileges 
 which Zelia enjoyed seemed to arouse jealousy 
 in this young wife ; and her will clashed often 
 with Bertha's, which was quite as stubborn as 
 her own, and even more sensitive. Then, too, 
 she saw in Abraham only a volatile, indolent 
 boy, badly brought up ; an inferior kind of 
 animal, whom she despaired of ever taming. 
 With Esther, alone of all the family, her rela- 
 tions were unconstrained and pleasant ; for the 
 wise, serious young daughter, seeing the peace 
 and order of the family threatened, tried her 
 best by discretion and tact to prevent confu- 
 sion and chaos. As Jane's glance followed 
 these young people, so near to her and yet 
 so far from her, she said to herself, " What 
 am I doing here among these strangers ? " 
 
 But she put the question to herself without 
 much sadness, and in a moment made the re- 
 ply, " I have made a mistake." Then she 
 shrugged her shoulders with a vigorous deci- 
 sive gesture, which doubtless was a reply to 
 certain vague reflections dimly outlined on her 
 140 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 heart ; obscure germ-ideas, which the fortunes 
 of the future might bring to fruition. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie now reappeared at the 
 door of the room. He had been greatly dis- 
 turbed by Madame Defos's words, disquieted 
 by suspicions which he could not allay ; and, 
 unable to bear the unrest which the unhappy 
 reminiscences had brought to his heart, he 
 came now to seek some sort of explanation, or 
 some reassuring word, or to ask pardon if he 
 had in any way offended. So he entered with 
 timid steps, and with that almost abject ten- 
 derness which always vexed Jane, instead of 
 arousing her affection. Although she heard 
 him enter, she pretended not to have noticed 
 him, and went on looking out of the window. 
 
 He stopped a few paces away from her, and 
 said, "Jane?" 
 
 She turned sharply around toward him, and 
 keeping her angry gaze fixed upon him, ex- 
 claimed, " Why did you complain to my 
 aunt?" 
 
 " Do you . . . mean me ? " stammered he, 
 in amazement. 
 
 She would not give him time to explain. 
 
 " Leave me. Don't deny it ! You went and 
 
 complained to her about me ; I know it. You 
 
 have been asking my aunt questions about my 
 
 141 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 past, without stopping to think whether such 
 conduct would offend or displease me." 
 
 He began again, " But . . ." 
 
 Again she interrupted, " No ! no ! you can't 
 say anything to clear yourself." And she left 
 the room, and he dared not follow; but he 
 crossed over to the window, where Jane had 
 been standing. The children were still in the 
 garden, seeming to him very well dressed, but 
 not so happy and free as in other days. Then 
 they had been a consolation to him in his 
 troubles ; but now there had come in between 
 them a fixed distrust full of silent reproaches. 
 
 He descended the stairway, and went out to 
 join them ; but at his approach Abraham took 
 to flight, and Bertha sulkily walked away. He 
 went up to the settee, where Esther was read- 
 ing with Zelia. " Well, what are you doing ? " 
 he inquired pleasantly. 
 
 Esther answered, " I am explaining a 
 problem." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie pressed his hand over 
 Zelia's beautiful hair, and she raised her eyes 
 to his in some surprise ; for she had gotten 
 quite out of the habit of expecting attentions 
 from him ; he always seemed to overlook her. 
 The father understood in a moment the 
 meaning of her surprise. 
 142 
 
Pa:stor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 We are all inclined to be tender toward 
 those who are in affliction ; and this' father, sud- 
 denly filled with pity for the pain which, 
 through his own fault, pressed upon this little 
 heart, raised the child to his knees, embraced 
 her, and comforted her with all kinds of tender 
 but confused expressions. After a trifling 
 resistance she gave herself up to him, pressed 
 her little head trustfully against his breast, and 
 said, " Papa, are you going to love me again ? " 
 
 That question brought a chill to the father's 
 heart. " How is that, my dear ? " he inquired. 
 " Do you suppose that I have not loved 
 you : 
 
 The little girl replied seriously, expressing 
 with difficulty the thought which was dimly 
 outlined in her heart, " Oh, papa ! Of course I 
 know you love me ; but . . . but it is n't quite 
 the way it used to be ; you are not quite as you 
 were when . . . when . . ." 
 
 She stopped short, and thought for a mo- 
 ment. " Not quite as you were before this . . . 
 stranger came," was what she wished to say ; 
 but she did not dare ; and she finished, " Not 
 quite as you were when I was small. You don't 
 take me up in your arms ; you don't tell me 
 any more pretty stories ; you don't embrace 
 me so often." 
 
 143 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Naudie held her against his breast, 
 and the image of her dead mother flashed 
 across his mind. Poor dear woman! so sweet 
 and good and devoted, borne down by a task too 
 heavy for her, gone away without knowing any 
 other joys than those of affection and sacrifice ! 
 Then he mused, "If she saw us . . . if she saw 
 us . . ." And he recalled the argument which 
 he had used with his conscience, as heart and 
 conscience had struggled desperately : " They 
 also will be happier ; the children will also be 
 happier . . ." 
 
 At that instant he felt an emotion in his 
 heart such as he had not known for a year, — a 
 strange sentiment, new and powerful ; and he 
 exclaimed : " Oh, my dear little one, I will cer- 
 tainly embrace you as much as you wish, and I 
 will tell you all the pretty stories that I know. 
 What one will you have now? The one about 
 Joseph being sold by his brothers ? " 
 
 He had placed her on the ground, and was 
 leaning over her, and holding her hand ; the 
 two now walked slowly away from the settee 
 where Esther was sitting, surprised and puz- 
 zled, trying to understand this new develop- 
 ment. 
 
 " Do ! " said Zelia. " Do tell me the story 
 of Joseph. I like that very much." 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Naudie began. " Joseph was a 
 little boy who was so good and wise that his 
 father eould not help lotting him more than he 
 did the other sons, eleven in number; for 
 Jacob had a large family. So the other 
 brothers were very jealous ; they were both 
 jealous and wicked , and they said among 
 themselves, ' If only we could get rid of this 
 Joseph . . .' " 
 
 Just then a window was noisily opened on 
 the first floor, — in Jane's room, — and Mon- 
 sieur Naudie stopped. Eager as he was to be 
 loved, and greatly fearing to displease his wife, 
 he acted the coward again. " I will finish the 
 story at another time," he said softly ; " I can't 
 tell you any more of it now." 
 
 A beautifiil great doll, so magnificent that 
 Zelia hardly dared touch her, was seated near 
 them in an armchair of wicker-work, like any 
 live person. This served as a means of diver- 
 sion for Monsieur Naudie, who at once said : 
 " How weary she is there, the poor doll, all 
 alone so long ! Go, Zelia, and keep her com- 
 pany a little while ! Take charge of her a few 
 moments, because she is all yours ! " 
 
 Then he turned and re-entered the house, 
 
 while Esther came over and comforted her 
 
 little sister. 
 
 10 145 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 At the time of the Reformation, a certain 
 wise man in Holland summed up the entire 
 program of his life, in the following lines : 
 
 Sol vitae : Sapientia. 
 Sal vitae : Amicitia. 
 Panis vitae : Temperantia. 
 Antydotum vitae : Patientia. 
 Vita vitae : Conscientia. 
 
 There is one formula lacking in this cate- 
 gory, namely. Love. And for poets, and plain 
 people, and heroes, this has been, all in one, 
 sun, and salt, and bread, and solace, and life of 
 life. However, this sage was marking out his 
 own program alone. Many people, with a 
 code of morals much like his, have imitated 
 him ; with a moderation of nature similar to 
 his, they can conceive of love only as a thin 
 diluted emotion. They hail it, accordingly, as 
 the soothing sentiment which holds families 
 together, which enlivens and dignifies the 
 hearth, — an emotion slightiy more fervent than 
 friendship, indeed, the salt of life. But as it 
 presents itself in more fervid forms, they hasten 
 to repudiate it, foreseeing its destructive power. 
 Some there are, however, who are capable of 
 knowing it and of conquering It ; heroes these, 
 of hidden struggles, whose history is a martyr- 
 146 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 dom. Others may be seen drawn by a secret 
 power whose insatiable demands cannot be 
 estimated beforehand, and these try desper- 
 ately to bind more closely the loosening chain, 
 delaying as long as possible the hour of defeat. 
 There are those, also, who surrender to it, 
 because they are too trustful or too weak, held 
 fast by their hearts, through sufferings which 
 become soon the very law of their existence. 
 Monsieur Naudie was, perforce, one of these. 
 How could he despise or distrust a sentiment 
 which had entered into his life under the guise 
 of kindliness and well being ? Surely not in 
 those earliest days, when momentary scruples 
 reproached him with being all too happy, and 
 of renouncing too readily all self-control ; days 
 when he felt that he was fascinated, and , was 
 young again, and was once more a man. By 
 the time he understood what a chain encircled 
 him, it was already too strong for him to 
 break, and in tossing and shaking it during 
 his revolts of conscience, he only succeeded in 
 making its links bite more deeply into his 
 flesh. 
 
 147 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER lY 
 
 THE return of their second son was likely 
 to open for the Defos family an era of 
 unexpected events. When Henry went away, 
 the previous autumn, to college, his father sup- 
 posed that he was bringing to a close his 
 course of studies, inasmuch as he was now 
 twenty-eight years old. Some chance words 
 dropped by Henry, expressing doubt, aroused 
 a momentary suspicion. Still, Monsieur Defos 
 attached little importance to them. He fancied 
 that his son might become, at the worst, 
 a little "liberal." Rigidly orthodox as he 
 himself was, — and the stricter the beliefs, the 
 more efficient, practically, — he however ad- 
 mitted that the views of theologians must be 
 somewhat different from those of the laity ; for 
 the laity need beliefs of a simple character, 
 without quibblings, adapted to the needs of 
 even the coal-heaver; whereas the theologians 
 must be trained to more subtle reasonings, en- 
 abling them to argue fine points with philoso- 
 phers. His elder son, David, he wished to 
 have grounded in simple clear doctrines, such 
 as would fit him for the life of business ; 
 14S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 whereas he was willing to have Henry skilful 
 in criticising all dogmas, and able to disport 
 himself with " the infinite," which was properly 
 his domain. That would not prevent his fol- 
 lowing a profession which, although not re- 
 munerative, was one to bring a certain measure 
 of glory. Thus, in his plans, his older son 
 should devote himself to business, and main- 
 tain the family prosperity ; while his younger 
 son should reflect credit upon the family in 
 other ways. It was the realization of his 
 ancestral motto. Omnia bene Deo juvante. 
 
 The crisis which Henry was now close upon, 
 which his watchful mother already suspected, 
 from various symptoms, was likely to dash 
 these plans to the ground. A crisis like this 
 of Henry's is not at all infrequent among 
 young men who are over-strained by dialectical 
 exercises ; who are turned loose into a science 
 which debates endlessly about the Infinite and 
 the unknowable ; who are directed in these 
 labyrinthine studies by philosophic minds ac- 
 knowledging no barriers to their free thought, 
 except subjective barriers. Many of these per- 
 sons come into their work by a " call ; " they 
 obey the voice of the Most High, which read- 
 ily lends itself to the dreams and visions of 
 youthful hearts. They are set apart, their 
 149 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 souls filled with God, their lives pledged to 
 him, their hearts contemptuous of the prizes 
 of the world, and their ears deaf to the words 
 of sceptics or atheists. 
 
 They are at first kept within bounds by 
 their masters, then by their wills ; but their 
 reason — restless little creature — begins his 
 work, and will not be silenced. Often he ac- 
 coniplishes his work without their mistrusting 
 it ; as the white ants accomplish theirs, while 
 the household is asleep. When they discover 
 the damage that has been done, they try to 
 ignore it, or they seek in prayer a release from 
 temptation. Sometimes grace saves them. 
 The spirit bloweth whither it listeth. Some- 
 times, however, one last blast of the storm 
 drives forth, upon the ocean of doubt, the shat- 
 tered bark of their faith. Some remain at the 
 helm, holding with trembling hand the broken 
 tiller, while the tempest tears to ribbons their 
 disordered sails. Thus they sail on, half under 
 water. Others of them succeed in saving a 
 few planks from their wrecked craft ; these, 
 however, they fasten together. The stronger, 
 the nobler, the bolder of them, rely solely on 
 their own powers ; launching their raft, they 
 head for some other port. 
 
 Henry Defos was one of these. His fdth 
 150 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 being wrecked, he knew not how, out of the 
 wreckage, to shape any sort of a profession. 
 He then made up his mind to give up the min- 
 isterial profession. But, before he could carry 
 out this resolution, he must needs consult the 
 wishes of his father. 
 
 But his father sprang up, in revolt, at his 
 first advances. 
 
 This was after the family-dinner. There 
 was no guest, that day. They .sipped their 
 coffee in the parlot, under the tender gaze of 
 Bouguereau's " Saint Jean." 
 
 Madame Defos urged upon Henry a glass 
 of old brandy. " You must let me take care 
 of you," she said, with all that tenderness 
 which her second son alone could draw from 
 her. " You have become thin ; you are very 
 pale." 
 
 In truth, the hard winter, with its mental 
 tumults, hesitations, battles of conscience, all 
 these had really changed the young man. 
 Emaciated as he was, with lack-lustre eyes, 
 sallow skin, hair dishevelled and dropping 
 over his forehead, only to be tossed back at 
 once with a quick, nervous gesture, the young 
 fellow seemed like a convalescent, who had 
 barely escaped the grasp of death. His 
 m«ther looked at him while he slowly emp- 
 151 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tied his glass with little sips, not enjoying it. 
 " I am sure," said she, " that you have been 
 working too hard." 
 
 " Pooh ! " blurted out Monsieur Defos, who 
 was stirring the sugar in his glass. "Anybody 
 knows how young people fatigue themselves. 
 A fortnight of rest and he will be all right. 
 The work goes on well, I trust ? How is it 
 with 'The Prophet Amos'?" 
 
 ' The Prophet Amos.' That was an essay 
 to which Henry had given a great deal of time 
 for several years. It was a subject which had 
 cost him immense investigation, which opened 
 up more and more, and now would never be 
 completed ; and in the crumbling and ruin 
 going on in his heart this cherished plan also 
 was crumbling, and he was deeply regretful ; it 
 was like the loss of a rare piece of furniture, or 
 a choice edition of a book, a souvenir, in the 
 conflagration which was destroying his house. 
 
 Monsieur Defos's inquiry led inevitably to 
 a conversation which must be entered upon, 
 Henry gathered himself up, tried to quiet his 
 too expressive countenance, and replied rather 
 brokenly, "' The Prophet Amos,' father; I am 
 not thinking about that any more." 
 
 Monsieur Defos frowned, slightly puzzled, 
 and even irritated, as he often had been, by 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 what he called his younger son's whims and 
 caprices. 
 
 " What is that you say ? " he exclaimed, 
 " You are not going to give up that plan, I 
 hope, on some slight pretext. Absurd! A 
 person ought to finish whatever he under- 
 takes ; that is an excellent principle." 
 
 The word "principle," upon his lips, took 
 on great significance ; he used it only on impor- 
 tant occasions, and never employed it lightly. 
 When he used it he rolled it out with emotion, 
 with all the weight of a prophet uttering divine 
 commands. Coming, as it did, at the very out- 
 set of the conversation, this word increased 
 Henry's nervousness ; and the young man 
 lowered his gaze, pulled restlessly at his beard, 
 and began in a trembling voice, as if he had 
 been a culprit confessing a crime : " I am afraid 
 I shall cause you all a great deal of pain, but I 
 have hesitated long about speaking, and now 
 must no longer conceal the decision which I 
 have reached, — after careful consideration, I 
 assure you ; now I see my duty clear before 
 me ; my conscience is my only guide." 
 
 Conscience — the vita vita, as the old 
 
 Dutch Huguenot called it — was, for Henry, 
 
 what " principles " were for his father. There 
 
 was something deep, noble, free, in the word, 
 
 IS3 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 which put firmness into his voice. He was 
 done now with disguises and delays ; and he 
 said very seriously, " I feel compelled to give 
 up the profession which I intended to enter. I 
 cannot become a minister." 
 
 Madame Defos gave vent to a startled 
 groan. David, who was about replacing his 
 coiFee-cup on its saucer, paused, as if hypno- 
 tized, in a half-stupefied way. As for Monsieur 
 Defos, he questioned himself for a quarter of a 
 minute as to whether or not he had heard dis- 
 tinctly, and then exclaimed, " Ah ! Indeed ! 
 Now hear him ! " 
 
 That was all. They waited for an explana- 
 tion. It came slowly and with much difficulty. 
 " And what else would you have me do ? 
 What other decision is possible for me ? You 
 can well understand that if I stop short in my 
 plans, it is not done with a very light heart. 
 For I have loved this profession to which I 
 pledged my youth, and to which I wished to 
 consecrate my life. But it is best for me to 
 give it up. My religious faith is gone. I no 
 longer believe anything." 
 
 Monsieur Defos strode up and down the 
 room with long steps, followed in his move- 
 ments by the anxious eyes of his wife. 
 
 " You no longer believe anything ? You no 
 154 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 longer believe anything ? " he repeated, stop- 
 ping in front of Henry. " What is this you 
 tell me ? You no longer believe anything ? 
 Why, that is only because you are passing 
 through the inevitable crisis of doubt, which 
 comes to all young people ; I passed through 
 it myself, just as others have. Your belief 
 will come back again, my dear, — it will come 
 back again." 
 
 He spoke more and more reassuringly, judg- 
 ing the situation less seriously, the longer he 
 looked at it ; in a good-natured way he asked, 
 "First, now, what is it that you don't be- 
 lieve ? " 
 
 Henry had that kind of courage which, 
 through its contempt for compromises, is apt 
 to set forth in the clearest light the most repel- 
 lent sides of truth. Influenced, also, by a wish 
 to state his position frankly, he replied tersely, 
 " Nothing." 
 
 The consternation which had been a little 
 softened by Monsieur Defos's conciliatory 
 good-nature, again took possession of all. 
 The father of the family himself uttered an 
 exclamation of wrath. He checked himself, 
 and then he repeated his exclamation, evidently 
 trying hard to control himself. " Nothing, 
 young man? That is decidedly too little. 
 ^55 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Nothing ? Is that what you really mean ? 
 Why, you at least believe in God and in the 
 immortality of the soul ? " 
 
 As Henry made no reply, his mother ad- 
 vanced toward him, holding out her hands 
 entreatingly, as if she were trying to hold him 
 back from denying everything, and she said 
 eagerly, " Henry, Henry, you surely will not 
 go and become an atheist ? " 
 
 Her husband quieted her. " A person 
 does n't become an atheist in this way, from 
 one day to another, without some reason. 
 Why is it, Henry ? What is the reason that 
 you do not believe more? Come, now, ex- 
 plain to me ! " 
 
 How to explain to these conventional, com- 
 fortable beings, who were as confident of the 
 beyond as of their little snug corner in this 
 life, as sure of eternity as of their rents 1 — 
 How to explain to them the complex experi- 
 ence of an overturned conscience ; how to 
 make clear to them the slow, steady growth of 
 doubt, encouraged by the diminishing resist- 
 ance of the will, taking possession of the in- 
 telligence and the reason so completely that all 
 the facts furnished by practical life seem to 
 corroborate the doubts, — how to explain all 
 that 1 However, Henry attempted the task. 
 156 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " One after another," said he, " I saw in- 
 spiration, dogma, and miracle crumble away. 
 Much disturbed, I thought that back of these 
 ruins the loftiest ideals would be found. In 
 harmony with the views of some of the most 
 eminent teachers, I renounced all thought of 
 an objective external God, as formerly held, 
 and gave attention to the subjective, interior 
 God, who is truer and purer, whose message 
 is higher than the old formulas, whose word 
 is, indeed, creative. I hoped, by thus break- 
 ing away from that superstitious past which 
 always inheres in religion, to raise myself to 
 a higher level of piety. God is swallowed 
 up, for me, in empty yearnings, vague hopes, 
 in an illusive non-Being. Religious medita- 
 tion is only a sigh of the soul after an ideal, 
 which is beyond reach by reason of its im- 
 material nature. God is scattered . . . God is 
 hidden in a cloud. I have, however, retained 
 as strongly as ever my love of truth and good- 
 ness. " Whatsoever things are true," — that 
 is enough for me ; and I look to my con- 
 science to guide me, from day to day, amid 
 the obscurities of a road where my conscience 
 alone is left to me. I cannot deceive myself 
 any longer as to taking orders ; my conscience 
 tells me that I would make a poor minister 
 157 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of a God whose voice I no longer hear. It 
 forbids me to take service in the church. My 
 consecration and my whole life would be a 
 continued deceit." 
 
 Monsieur Defos listened, as did also his 
 wife and his older son ; but they did not half 
 understand. Does God exist in our hearts, or 
 in heaven ? They had never asked any such 
 question ; but the mother saw that her son suf- 
 fered, and she suffered with him. As for the 
 father, scenting peril for his family, he tried to 
 ward it off, and as soon as possible. 
 
 " I see what the trouble is," he said, after a 
 moment's reflection. "You have been read- 
 ing Darwin, Spencer, Renan, and the other 
 naturalists and philosophers. As if science had 
 the final word ! Moreover, there have been 
 scientific men who were believers. Newton, 
 and many others. And Taine ! Did not he 
 request a Protestant service at his burial ? So 
 you see the wisest and best of them could 
 remain Christians. That is perfectly clear, 
 is n't it ? And now you come to me, and 
 you say, ' I no longer believe anything.' You 
 fancy that such a statement will be enough to 
 change all the plans which I have made for 
 your future. But it will not. No, sir ! it will 
 not. Your imagination has often played you 
 158 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 this same kind of trick. You may make ready, 
 now, to go in bridle. It was your own wish to 
 study theology. I did n't force you into this 
 profession. You freely chose it. Well, now 
 you shall continue in it. You do not believe ? 
 Then try to believe ! Give one quarter of the 
 time to retracing your steps that you have given 
 to advancing into this position of unbelief! 
 That old promise has not lost its meaning, 
 ' Seek, and ye shall find ! ' " 
 
 " Ah," said Henry, quietly, " how that ex- 
 pression has been abused ! " 
 
 And then, speaking more abruptly, thinking 
 to clear up matters by a plainer statement, he 
 asked, " Just look at the thing candidly, father. 
 How can I consecrate myself to a God in whom 
 I no longer believe, a God who does not 
 exist ? " 
 
 Never, in that comfortable parlor of the 
 olden time, never had such a speech broken 
 upon the quiet air. David made a gesture 
 which signified, " My brother is evidently in- 
 sane." Madame Defos buried her head in 
 her hands. Monsieur Defos stood, erect and 
 stern and terrible, in front of his chair, and 
 repeated the blasphemous words, "A God 
 who does not exist! I tell you that he does 
 exist. Listen to me ! To me, your father ! 
 IS9 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 I have proved his existence twenty times, a 
 hundred times, yes, a thousand times. He 
 does exist. He is the God of our fathers, for 
 , whom they fought ; the righteous God, the 
 mighty God, who punishes all who are unfaith- 
 ful. Beware of his anger, unhappy boy, for he 
 hears you. He is here, in this house which 
 has kept the faith these two centuries, here 
 where I have called upon him — I who now 
 speak to you — in all the trying hours of my 
 life, and often has he deigned to hear me and 
 help me." 
 
 A little of the spirit of the old Huguenots, 
 of those magistrates of the old heroic days, 
 those warriors of the times of siege, when even 
 women fought for the faith, those persecuted 
 ones in Reformation times, who remained faith- 
 ful unto death, — a little of their fervor of soul 
 entered into the voice of this man, and gave 
 solemnity to his position, and lent an unusual 
 fire to his speech ; for thus, often, the past still 
 lives, deep down in hearts that have changed 
 outwardly, and taken on the color of their age 
 and generation. 
 
 Henry trembled. He was shaken, to the 
 
 very roots of his being. Was he not also the 
 
 descendant of those same heroes, of those same 
 
 pastors ? Was not this the faith in which he 
 
 i6o 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 had been cradled ? Was it not the faith that 
 lived still in his blood, despite the supremacy 
 of his reason ? And at this moment it awak- 
 ened within him ; it uttered, in his heart, its 
 dying lay. He tried to reply, but he could 
 not. Overcome by his feelings, he could not 
 restrain the sobs which rose in his throat ; and, 
 after speaking like a sage, he began now to 
 weep like a child. 
 
 " Ah, you weep ! " said Monsieur Defos. 
 "It is well ; but everything is lost. Reflect 
 upon my words ! Lift your hands toward the 
 God whom you have denied ! He will not reject 
 you." Then he went out, to take advantage 
 of the impression he had made upon his son. 
 
 Madame Defos came forward to her son, 
 with lingering traces of fear, took him to her 
 arms, with the same tenderness which she had 
 shown him when he was a child ; and he mur- 
 mured, growing each moment calmer: "Oh, I 
 am so unhappy, mother. But I cannot, cannot 
 deceive my own conscience." 
 
 i6i 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TROUBLOUS times were coming to the 
 Defos family. Again and again the dis- 
 cussion, thus broken off, was brought up in 
 some form ; and from day to day the irritated 
 feelings grew more irritable. Sometimes the 
 exchange of a remark or two between Henry 
 and his father served to show that each held 
 to his position ; or at other times they entered 
 upon endless discussions, which seemed only 
 to increase the misunderstanding. Monsieur 
 Defos, after the heat of his first attack, had 
 sunk back to his normal level. He argued, 
 without much choice of arguments ; and was 
 tenacious and rigid, especially where he felt 
 any obstacle to his will. Henry remained 
 firm and respectful, though almost insulted, 
 intellectually, by the weakness of his father's 
 reasoning. For a time nothing was known 
 in the outside world of this fissure which 
 had yawned in the old substantial household. 
 " Henry's doubts " were concealed from the 
 sight of strangers, as families often conceal 
 those maladies in their midst which move on 
 to a fatal termination. If Monsieur Lanthelme 
 162 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 or Monsieur Dehodecq made inquiries about 
 the young man's studies, or about his conse- 
 cration, or about "The Prophet Amos," they 
 were put off with some deliberate falsehood, 
 and were given to understand that everything 
 was going well. Henry, for his part, became 
 more taciturn than ever, more shut up within 
 himself; and if similar inquiries were made of 
 him, he either evaded them, or, out of regard 
 for his family, forced himself to answer about 
 as the others did. However, their vigilance in 
 time relaxed. Madame Defos, who was more 
 concerned for Henry's body than for his soul, 
 could not refrain from confiding her anxieties 
 to her niece. Jane at once took a lively in- 
 terest in the affair ; it fiirnished unexpected 
 food for her fancy, which had been suffering 
 from enforced idleness. She at once wished to 
 know all about it, seeming to understand ; and 
 she gave him great sympathy, while she also 
 sought to probe the affair to the bottom. 
 
 On the other hand, Monsieur Defos con- 
 fided in Monsieur Naudie, whom he counted 
 on as an ally ; but he counted on him in vain. 
 While the pastor had not the strong intel- 
 lectual gifts of his father, yet he had consider- 
 able breadth of mind and, above all else, a 
 clear conscience. He defended the right of 
 163 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 each individual to the control of his own soul ; 
 he inveighed against the " professionalism " to 
 which Monsieur Defos bowed blindly ; he 
 urged that there should be no invasion of the 
 personal faith of the heart. " For a man to 
 regulate his acts by a code of feeling which he 
 does not really hold is nothing short of Jesuit- 
 ism," he said. " It is a man's duty to act in 
 accord with the voice of conscience, without 
 vitiating its commands by external considera- 
 tions of self-interest or expediency. For, as 
 the apostle said, everything which is not done 
 in agreement with a person's convictions is a 
 sm. 
 
 The suggestion that he could possibly re- 
 semble, in any degree, the sly disciples of Mon- 
 sieur Reynard, alarmed Monsieur Defos, but 
 it did not lead him to give up his plans. 
 
 Henry never once suspected the help that 
 was given his cause by Monsieur Naudie ; he 
 mistrusted him, and did not feel inclined to 
 confide in him. His plan was to wait, to avoid 
 all discussion with strangers, and to maintain 
 toward all outsiders a reserve regarding his 
 own affairs and those of his family. One day, 
 however, a mere chance drew from his over-full 
 heart its pain and anguish, so that all could 
 see and know. 
 
 164 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 It was a Sunday, at one of those dinners 
 which the two families often held together ; 
 the dinner was at Monsieur Naudie's house. 
 William, who had come up for the day, was 
 present. He was in his most cynical mood ; 
 for he had escorted his sister-in-law and his 
 nieces to church that afternoon, and had lis- 
 tened to one of his brother's sermons. The 
 discourse had been a trifle abstract, revolv- 
 ing about that somewhat disturbing text 
 from the first epistle to the Corinthians, 
 "What has caused thee to differ from an- 
 other ? And what hast thou, that thou hast 
 not received? " It was a sermon full of dog- 
 matic discussion, involving the problem of 
 free-will. 
 
 At Monsieur Naudie's house they had the 
 custom of serving the soup before grace was 
 said, but of leaving it untasted until that brief 
 formula had been recited by Zelia. William 
 had forgotten about this custom, and had be- 
 gun at once to taste some of the bits of toast in 
 his consomme. 
 
 His brother immediately called out, " Zelia ! " 
 and he stopped. All heads were bowed rever- 
 ently over the steaming plates ; the waiter him- 
 self, who was about to serve the Madeira, drew 
 back and waited. The timid little voice lisped : 
 i6S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " We thank thee, Lord, for the blessings which 
 thou hast given us. Amen ! " 
 
 For a few moments only the sound of spoons 
 was heard. William's forgetfulness, emphasiz- 
 ing, as it did, this little act of customary piety, 
 threw a feeling of unusual constraint over the 
 party. In order to break this oppressive silence. 
 Monsieur Defos said to Monsieur Naudie, 
 " You gave us to-day an excellent sermon. I 
 especially enjoyed your reply to those who deny 
 the freedom of the will. You were correct in 
 speaking as you did. It is time to make an end 
 of those specious theories whose consequences 
 are hateful." 
 
 William never neglected an opportunity to 
 " toss a stone," as he said, " into the theological 
 garden." Moreover, the discourse which had 
 stirred him up, and his little blunder of a mo- 
 ment before, and Monsieur Defos's calm assur- 
 ance, all these led him to sharply contradict. 
 " You think it is all so simple," he remarked ; 
 "you seem to believe that one of my good 
 brother's sermons suffices to end the whole 
 matter." 
 
 With a spoonful of soup in his hand. Mon- 
 sieur Defos replied : " One good sermon 
 counts for more than many evil paradoxes." 
 
 " Oh," said Monsieur Naudie, " we do not 
 i66 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 deceive ourselves as to the value of our words. 
 We simply speak that which we believe to be 
 right and true. That is the seed, which falls 
 on the various kinds of soil." 
 
 " You shake up your little bottle of truth," 
 said William, " and you scatter it around like 
 rain. But the liquid is changed, according to 
 the times, according to circumstances, and you 
 are not aware of it. The bottle is the same, 
 with its label. As to its contents, they vary ; 
 they become spoiled, they evaporate. Never 
 mind! You distribute it with entire confi- 
 dence. Again, take this question of free-will. 
 You settled it, Simeon, in ten minutes. 
 Now, you are too good a student to believe 
 that so complicated a problem can be dis- 
 posed of in that brief time. To-day you 
 defended free-will against the attacks of the 
 Determinists ; but yesterday did n't you argue 
 against it ? " 
 
 " Explain ! " called out Monsieur Defos. 
 
 " Certainly ! " assented William. He ex- 
 perienced a wicked delight in teasing theolo- 
 gians with a display of the learning which he 
 had gathered while attending some lectures on 
 Chance. And he went on, in a tone of good- 
 natured raillery : " Here, in this very city, 
 was approved in the year 1571 the Confession 
 167 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of Faith, prepared a dozen years before, by the 
 synod of Paris. Is n't that so ? " 
 
 Monsieur Defos, very strong in local history, 
 assented. 
 
 " Well, then ! You can read in that docu-i 
 ment — I think it is article twenty-one — the 
 following : ' "We believe that we are enlight- 
 ened in the faith by the secret grace of the Holy 
 Spirit in such a way that it is a free and pecu- 
 liar gift, which God imparts to those to whom 
 it pleases him to give it, . . . Now, is that so ? " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie, who was well acquainted 
 with the polemical temper of his brother, was 
 not eager to enter into a discussion which would 
 probably be endless. Monsieur Defos knew 
 that he had not the equipment to plunge into a 
 debate which abounded in terms unfamiliar to 
 him ; so he preserved a discreet silence ; and it 
 was Henry's voice that broke in. He said : 
 "This problem of free-will is the most vital 
 of all problems, because often our other be- 
 liefs rest upon the decision which we reach in 
 this matter. And how can it be decided in 
 the affirmative ? We are caught between the 
 rigid texts which establish the theory of Grace, 
 and the inexorable conclusions of Science, 
 which teach us the inflexible chain of cause 
 and effect, making us what we are." 
 i6S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Oh ! Science ! " interrupted Monsieur 
 Defos. 
 
 " Science and religion," replied Henry 
 warmly, " here find themselves in harmony ; 
 for what is this Determinism, but the scientific 
 statement of the doctrine of predestination ? " 
 
 "Good!" said William. "What is this 
 doctrine of predestination, but the first for- 
 mula, entirely instinctive, of a truth which it 
 belongs to time to establish ! And when this 
 position is conceded, what, then, remains of the 
 scaffolding of the other doctrines ? It is a 
 ring which falls out of the chain, and the chain 
 is then useless ; it falls at the feet of the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " What ! " cried Monsieur Defos. " Do you 
 mean to say that we are not masters of our 
 own actions, that I cannot do the thing which 
 I will to do, that I cannot go out this evening, 
 if I am inclined to, or to-morrow, if I prefer ? " 
 
 " You have no power over the motives 
 which determine your decision," said William. 
 
 With the exception of the children, who 
 could scarcely understand, everybody listened 
 eagerly. Jane especially noticed, with in- 
 terest and sympathy, the peculiar and increasing 
 zeal which Henry brought to the discussion. 
 He trembled with excitement, as if each of his 
 169 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 words had for him personally a direct vivid 
 meaning, beyond its general bearing. His 
 slender frame vibrated with an intensity of 
 passion which gave to it something almost 
 beautiful. In the midst of this ordinary group, 
 among these commonplace beings, he seemed 
 suddenly transformed, and to furnish an illus- 
 tration of that higher humanity whose struggles 
 bring about revolutions. 
 
 He continued : " You reason correctly. 
 You can only arrive at the causes which bind us 
 to unavoidable slavery ; * my actions depend 
 upon my will,' you say. But your will ? Some 
 people hold to material links of a locked chain, 
 which they scrutinize unceasingly. Others, if 
 they refer everything back to God, are simply 
 compelled to put into his hand the key of 
 their chains ; since it is he alone who awards 
 the gifts of the Holy Spirit, he alone who can 
 loose them. I hate " — here a splendid light 
 flashed from his eyes — " the cowards, the pol- 
 troons, the hypocrites, who discover somewhere 
 in space, I know not where, a sheltered spot of 
 exemption, where these truths do not enter. 
 They retreat before the pressure of evidence. 
 They draw back before the conclusions of their 
 thought. I know no greater cowardice." 
 
 With the exception of Abraham, whose fork 
 170 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 was in constant use, nobody went on eating, 
 and nobody replied. William said nothing, 
 because he saw that his own cold cynicism had 
 been outstripped by the burning ardor of this 
 young thinker ; it had been annihilated by his 
 passionate reasoning. Monsieur Defos was 
 silent, because he desired that the conversation 
 should cease before it reached such a pitch of 
 intensity as to make itself heard throughout 
 the town. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie, however, could not con- 
 cede to such ideas as these any position of 
 supremacy, at his table. " You have called it 
 'cowardice' unsoundly," he said with gentle- 
 ness. " No ! no ! It is trust and confidence in 
 God. There are some problems which we 
 cannot solve; or, rather, which we must be 
 content to solve in a practical way, in our own 
 lives, in accordance with the dictates of our 
 conscience. To harmonize free-will and grace ? 
 It is not my work to do it. Yet my heart is at 
 peace. I know that I am responsible for my 
 acts, and that I can guide my conduct and my 
 thoughts. That is enough for me. I believe 
 that it ought to be enough for everybody." 
 
 " I am sure it ought," remarked Monsieur 
 Defos. 
 
 Henry now seemed inclined to retreat a lit- 
 171 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tie. Perhaps he regretted having spoken so very 
 boldly, and having disturbed the serenity of 
 these other hearts. The dinner went on. Con- 
 versation continued, but it went lamely. Henry, 
 who was following out silently the thread of his 
 own reflections, scarcely heard some of the re- 
 plies, whose crudity never discourages any- 
 body, — 
 
 "... Then there will no longer be any 
 criminals." 
 
 "... Such doctrines as those go a long 
 way." 
 
 William, however, began to find the discus- 
 sion irksome ; after having demoralized the 
 larger part of the dinner, it now seemed likely 
 to spoil the dessert. He desired to end it. 
 " The fact is," said he, " we are apt to be- 
 lieve a good deal as we wish to. Indeed, the 
 belief of that great man our father has fur- 
 nished me proof of this. Do you suppose 
 that it has passed through all possible grada- 
 tions, even through those of superstition ? 
 Let me tell you an anecdote. It will be better 
 for us than our dogmatic discussion, and still it 
 bears upon the subject in hand. I was very 
 small when our father passed through one of 
 his crises of intense mysticism ; the one which 
 gave value to that old treatise of his on the 
 172 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 ' Miracles of the Apostles,' one which he does 
 not much care to have read to-day. There 
 was at that time at Montauban a good woman 
 who healed by the laying on of hands. Now, 
 I happened to be stung by a wasp just under 
 the eye, and I made as much outcry as though 
 I had been flayed alive." 
 
 Here little Zelia broke out into a laugh. 
 Poor child ! She was half perishing with de- 
 sire for some kind of amusement. 
 
 " My father seized me and led me quickly 
 away to this old healer's house. I can see 
 her now, the old witch ; with her nose like a 
 crow's beak, her gray hair, and a little tuft of 
 hair, like a goat's, under her chin. She took 
 my small hands in both her own, raised her 
 bleary eyes toward heaven, and muttered some 
 prayers. I cried incessantly. Indeed I believe 
 that her hypocritical ways made me cry all the 
 more. Suddenly she announced that she was 
 through, that I was no longer in pain, and that 
 if I continued to cry, it was out of perversity 
 only, and a good whipping would remedy that. 
 Well, I howled in fine style, for I really felt 
 pain. My father became very angry ; he 
 spoke to me in an indignant voice. I swal- 
 lowed my tears as best I could, though I was 
 suffering all the time. ' You can see that he is 
 173 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 cured,' said the old sorceress. Cured ! Oh yes ! 
 I had enough belief in miracles then and there 
 to last me the remainder of my life. But my 
 father seemed to accept it all." 
 
 The children were greatly amused ; and 
 Monsieur Defos began, " But the miracle, 
 that is another question." 
 
 However, the dinner was now finished, and 
 all arose from the table. 
 
 Jane, whose range of interests was limited, 
 had followed this discussion only because of 
 her growing regard for the passionate elo- 
 quence of her cousin. Until very recently 
 she had looked upon Henry with entire in- 
 difference, and even with a little of that hos- 
 tility which she now felt toward all church 
 aifairs. The confidential talks with Madame 
 Defos had made an impression upon her. 
 This calm interest was now changing into a 
 romantic curiosity, for she felt drawn by 
 those secret sentiments of soul which had 
 so stirred him. The coiFee was served in 
 the garden, under the wide-spreading branches 
 of the old cedar ; and, as she sat there, she 
 could still seem to hear the vibrant tones of 
 his warm, earnest voice, and those strong, bold 
 words which had taken such hold upon her. 
 When the cups were distributed she drew near 
 174 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 to Henry, who sat alone and thoughtful. Soon 
 she adroitly managed to draw him away for a 
 walk in the other part of the garden. The 
 sound of the conversation which was going on 
 under the old cedar now became only a remote 
 murmur, broken now and then by loud laughs 
 at William Naudie's jokes. They exchanged 
 a few remarks about the beauty of the even- 
 ing, and about the shadows which were deep- 
 ening on every side ; then they walked on in 
 silence among the flower-beds. The fine gravel 
 crackled under their feet ; the roses, before go- 
 ing to bed, seemed to send out their sweetest 
 odors upon the soft air. Presently Jane said 
 tenderly, " You surely are unhappy, cousin ? " 
 Her voice was very compassionate. And this 
 was the first time that Henry, in his hard trial, 
 had had any sympathy shown him. At Paris 
 his chum had left him as though he had been 
 a criminal ; his favorite professor had not been 
 able to understand him ; here his father con- 
 demned him, his brother avoided him, and 
 even his mother seemed to be afraid of him. 
 However, his reserve did not at once give way 
 under this first appeal. He avowed nothing 
 of the distress which was really in his heart, 
 but he was a little startled by the directness of 
 the question ; and he put himself somewhat 
 175 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 on the defensive as he replied, " Unhappy ? 
 How so ? " 
 
 "Oh, I understand you," said Jane. " Back 
 of your words I could feel the things which 
 you did not say; and, besides, your mother, 
 who has talked freely with me, has given me 
 an idea of matters. I am aware that you wish 
 to give up your profession, but your father 
 will not consent to it. Oh, that surely must 
 be very hard to bear." 
 
 Henry did not notice that she brought the 
 question at once to its most extreme form. 
 " Yes, it is most unfortunate," said he, not yet 
 speaking very freely ; " but others have gone 
 through it as well as I." 
 
 " All people have sorrows, but not all peo- 
 ple suffer in the same degree." 
 
 What man, in his hours of unhappiness, can 
 withstand oflfers of sympathy from a woman ? 
 Almost always, sincere pity is a powerful talis- 
 man ; for, when women hold it out to us in 
 their little hands, we always take it for love. 
 Henry was not acquainted with either the 
 sweetness or the dangers of confidences. He 
 did not know how to keep his own counsel. 
 " Ah," said he, " they think that it is treason, 
 when it really is utter ruin. They reproach me 
 as if I had committed a crime, and they know 
 176 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 little how dearly it has cost me. Just think of 
 it ! A man puts his strength, his courage, his 
 hope, upon a certainty, and behold, it fails him. 
 Everything crumbles at once. Life has no aim. 
 It stretches out before the eye, far away, dull and 
 dreary, and must be followed to the end ; but 
 it leads to nothing. As for the busy, earnest 
 youth of this century, this religious crisis often 
 comes to them without their being aware of it ; 
 for it is in the very air, it is characteristic of 
 our times. I am sure that nobody can talk 
 any more about the ' terrors of doubt,' and no 
 poet to-day can write the ' Faith in God.' 
 Conscience is concerned with very different 
 matters. But as for us, disillusioned ministers, 
 what laceration of heart ! We are like Levites 
 who have forsaken the temple. Everybody 
 mistrusts us and scorns us, and we have great 
 need of help and sympathy,' ' 
 
 With a caressing movement, Jane laid her 
 hand on the young man's arm. " Oh," said 
 she, " how all that does touch me and move 
 me ! They " — here she threw a hasty glance 
 toward the end of the garden, where the others 
 were talking under the old cedar, — " they are 
 all conventional. In everything they have a 
 ' guide-book ' inside them. The lines are 
 straight, and run out to the edge of the pa- 
 
 12 177 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 per ; but you . . . but we . . . Oh, we are white 
 leaves, blank pages, over which glide swift 
 hands, making marks which are profound in 
 their meaning, but are very difficult to de- 
 cipher. See, now, how well I understand ! 
 They have no doubts, because they never 
 think. They do not wish to disarrange their 
 straight lines. They put aside, beforehand, 
 whatever is likely to trouble them. And we 
 . . . there are such voices that speak to us ! 
 and we listen to them. Oh, I hear them con- 
 stantly, all around me. They come forth from 
 these old mansions, from the trees, from the 
 sea. Oh, nobody ever knows what they say 
 to me. I believe they are the same voices 
 that have spoken to you." 
 
 Then, in a tender and almost supplicatory 
 tone, she added, " Oh, cousin, I wish so much 
 to know how these voices have taken from 
 you your early beliefs." 
 
 They walked slowly along the same path, 
 which led up to a clump of bare lilac-bushes, 
 hiding the wall. 
 
 "How can I explain that?" said Henry, 
 " Certain Christians claim that faith is a gift of 
 grace. That ought to be true. Well^ grace is 
 departed from me. My spirit has been tested ; 
 I have succumbed." 
 
 178 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Jane repeated, "Your spirit has been tested? 
 But when, for the first time ? " 
 
 Henry searched in his memory. How could 
 he find — so far back in the past it was — the 
 first sign of the "Spirit that denies"? How 
 could he trace back the long chain of reasoning, 
 conscious or unconscious, even to that hour, 
 so critical, so momentous, when the first doubt 
 had entered his soul, like a flash of lightning 
 leaping forth from heaped up masses of distant 
 clouds." 
 
 " Truly," said he, " I am not quite sure about 
 my memory in this matter. I do recall, how- 
 ever, that once I was reading Cicero's essay on 
 the 'Nature of the Gods,' and I was struck by 
 this idea, which had often occurred to me in my 
 own thinking : ' If the gods do not exist, then 
 what is the good of the temples ?' That struck 
 me as establishing a humiliating relationship 
 between Divinity and the clergy ; it seemed to 
 place the former in dependence upon the latter ; 
 it seemed to throw a kind of troubled light upon 
 the early human expressions of religious life. 
 But that was a long time ago. I made ready, 
 then, my baccalaureate address. The other idea 
 was transitory, and soon faded out." 
 
 He paused a moment, reflecting, and then 
 went on. " Another idea, or impression, was 
 179 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 more recent and more lasting. It dates back, 
 I think, five or six years. One evening, in 
 the spring, I was reading the Gospel, in my 
 room . . ." 
 
 His speech grew slow and hesitating. There 
 was something connected with the memory of 
 that reading, which he did not care to reveal 
 to his cousin; shadowy recollections of a period 
 when temptations of another sort shook his 
 youthful frame, as it stood expectant before life. 
 That time the spirit had conquered; but what 
 feverish, visionary nights there had been ! 
 
 " I had then been only a short time at Paris ; 
 I suffered much from loneliness. The reading 
 of the Bible, and prayer, comforted me greatly. 
 On that evening my attention was drawn to a 
 litde place which had never struck me before ; 
 it was the parable of the unfruitful fig-tree. 
 You recall it, cousin ! Jesus was coming from 
 Bethany ; he came up to a fig-tree which had 
 only leaves on it, ' for it was not the season of 
 figs.' And he cursed the innocent tree. Be- 
 fore this injustice of one who was previously all 
 sweetness and goodness, I saw suddenly open 
 up a long vista of divine injustices, fi-om the 
 beginning of history down. There was God 
 rejecting Cain's offering, and condemning him 
 to become the most hated of men, Abraham 
 1 80 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 driving Hagar and Ishmael into the wilderness 
 of Beer-sheba, Isaac blessed because of his 
 shameless deceits, and so on, — so many, many 
 of them ! At that hour, also, light broke 
 through ; it has changed the color of heaven. 
 Since then lessons, readings, meditations have 
 seemed only to dethrone in my mind the per- 
 sonal God of my childhood. I tried to free 
 him from all base alloy, such as had attached to 
 him by the superstitions and the visions of the 
 prophets. I tried to worship him in spirit and 
 in truth, as our instructors wished ; but a day 
 came when I could not . . . well, J could not 
 any longer . . . find him. I hardly know any 
 better way than that in which to express my 
 idea. He faded from my life. I had given to 
 my reason the right to discuss everything. 
 How could I forbid it going to the very end? 
 Between the criticism of science and that of 
 history, what could faith avail, when grace no 
 longer sustained me ? " 
 
 Over across, under the old cedar, the remote 
 voices had become faint. The odor of the roses 
 was wafted from dainty chalices, as if to anoint 
 the new-born evening. A gentle breeze, coming 
 from afar, mingled with these delicious odors a 
 breath of the sea. The lights of those strange 
 worlds which are strewn through space illu- 
 i8i 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 mined all corners of the heavens, as if a myste- 
 rious hand had traced once more upon the 
 firmament those indecipherable hieroglyphics 
 which another morn would blot out. No word 
 could banish, from his true realm, the Divine, 
 which filled the heavens, — a surer abode than 
 are human hearts, — riding upon the wings of 
 the wind, murmuring in the storms, glowing 
 in the stars. And, within these two souls, 
 drawing every moment nearer each other, were 
 born faint intimations, sparkling yet uncertain, 
 transient, deceptive emotions. Henry was glad 
 of this solitude, which was now shared with 
 another, and was perhaps also glad because in 
 his pride he had spoken out bold words regard- 
 ing life and destiny. As for Jane, she much 
 desired to know more, and to follow, as closely 
 as possible, the spectacle of this soul passing 
 through storm and stress. 
 
 After a long silence, she said, lowering her 
 voice even more than before, " I would like to 
 read the books which you have read." 
 
 " No ! " answered Henry. " Forget as quickly 
 as possible what I have been saying to you ! 
 Why disturb the peace of your soul ? I wish no- 
 body to experience such pain as mine has been." 
 
 She repeated, "Tell me in what books these 
 ideas may be found ! " 
 
 182 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed Henry, " books are only 
 echoes, which bring to us nothing new, nothing 
 but the sound of our own voices, the reinforce- 
 ment of our own thought. If you really hold 
 to your wish, read some of the works of your 
 father-in-law, Abraham Naudie ! " 
 
 " His works ? " exclaimed Jane. " Why, he 
 is a believer ! " 
 
 "He is not of that class of believers who 
 neither write nor think, but who suffer and 
 pray. That man is a noble spirit. He has 
 completed the whole voyage, and in his old age 
 he comes again to his point of departure. I 
 admire him. But I am far from being able to 
 sail over the course which he has sailed. In 
 short, I do not at all believe in his faith ; it 
 reasons too much; it is an illusion which he 
 himself gives to himself." 
 
 At this moment, the gravel on the path be- 
 hind them crackled ; William had come to 
 look them up. " Aha ! " he called out face- 
 tiously, " what are you doing there ? Talking 
 theology ? " 
 
 With that mobility of nature which women 
 so often show, Jane at once replied gayly, " Oh 
 yes ! It is extremely amusing." 
 
 Henry did not catch this word " amusing," 
 which fluttered so lightly from the young 
 183 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 woman's lips. Even if he had heard it, would 
 it have enlightened him much ? He felt, as so 
 many did, the fascination of this beautiful 
 creature ; her angelic eyes, her soft low voice, 
 and all that charm which radiated from her 
 presence, which seem to wing its way out into 
 the world from a tender sympathetic heart. 
 At each moment, if her words inclined to dispel 
 the illusion, her actions served to bring it 
 back; and even when one received a direct 
 blow to his feelings, he took it without quite 
 understanding it, or even daring to understand 
 it. 
 
 Her dryness of soul, her egotism, her 
 hardness of heart, had long been manifest ; 
 it showed plainly in her readiness to be free 
 from the children committed to her care, and 
 especially in the savage animosity with jvhich 
 she pursued little Zelia; a hatred altogether 
 inexplicable was hidden far down in the ob- 
 scure corners of her heart, where burned evil 
 passions. Monsieur Naudie did not wish to 
 see or understand it. If he had at first given 
 his little ones a place in his dreams of the 
 coming happiness, he now had become drawn 
 into the toils of his own personal passion, 
 and no longer had eyes or ears for anybody 
 but her. The best that he could do was to 
 184 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 conceal as far as possible from intruding eyes 
 the ravages of his own heart. And, bound 
 fast in the shameful slavery of his passion, he 
 never interfered from day to day in the quarrels 
 which constantly arose between his wife and his 
 children. The first time that Bertha or Zelia, 
 flaming with anger, and confident of the jus- 
 tice of their cause, came to him to seek redress, 
 " Papa, do you think . . .", he interrupted 
 them admonishingly : " It is best to obey, my 
 dears. It is best to obey her as if she were your 
 mother, or as you would obey me. All this 
 which she tells you is for your good ..." 
 
 They beat a retreat, with wide-open eyes, 
 which expressed their surprise, their indigna- 
 tion, their despair. Justice vanished, they per- 
 ceived that they were doubly orphans ; they 
 ran away to weep in Esther's arms, who could 
 only comfort them in silence, and suffer with 
 them. 
 
 One Friday — the day set apart by Monsieur 
 Naudie for the preparation of his sermon — 
 he chose his text from the Epistle to the 
 Romans : "/ delight in the law of God after the 
 inward man. But I see another law in my mem- 
 bers, warring against the law of my mind, and 
 bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which 
 is in my members." 
 
 185 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 A multitude of thoughts crowded confusedly 
 into his agitated heart ; not only those which 
 he could proclaim plainly from the pulpit, 
 thoughts which were in harmony with the ideas 
 and customs of the time and the public mind, 
 but others, others more subtle and penetrat- 
 ing, which applied to his own situation. Guided 
 by the inexorable Apostle, he entered into the 
 secret chambers of his own soul, whose closed 
 doors so often refused to open. There, in his 
 soul, he read, instead of such grand abstract 
 reflections as his text ought to have aroused, a 
 poem of despair, much more like the songs of 
 the Sulamite woman's royal lover than like the 
 lessons of Paul of Tarsus ; a poem of desire 
 and grief, a poem of love and anguish. Like 
 to the weary hart of the Psalmist, he thirsted 
 for the living God, and no longer found 
 him in his path of life. In hours when his 
 thought ought to have borne him aloft to 
 heaven, it threw him heavily down upon the 
 earth, — upon the earth, where dwelt.one only 
 creature, whom he loved to idolatry, loved 
 with a boundless unreasonable passion, with a 
 passion of the flesh and blood. Thus tri- 
 umphed in him " the law of sin." And his 
 eyes remained fixed upon the block of white 
 paper, placed there to receive edifying thoughts. 
 i86 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Suddenly cries aroused him, — doubtless one 
 of those frequent quarrels which he was careful 
 not to meddle with. He waited. The noise 
 did not diminish. In the confused sounds 
 which reached him he distinguished the excited 
 voice of Esther; his heart was smitten with 
 anguish. How could he overlook this affair, 
 if even she had become involved in it ! 
 
 He hastened away toward the scene of the 
 strife. One of the maids was listening with 
 some curiosity. She disappeared as he ap- 
 proached. Zelia was sobbing in the arms of 
 Bertha, who stood holding her in a pose worthy 
 of Niobe. Jane and Esther stood facing each 
 other, with hatred in their eyes and threats upon 
 their lips. With a simultaneous movement 
 they turned toward him, and Esther, panting, 
 exclaimed : " Papa, she struck her, she struck 
 Zelia ; and with no reason for it, none what- 
 ever. She . . ." 
 
 Here Jane interrupted, with considerable 
 anger, " Oh, for nothing ? " 
 
 Then their two voices mingled In a confusion 
 of angry complaints, each reciting a list of accu- 
 mulated grievances, when open war had been 
 avoided by only the slightest barrier. So far 
 as this present affair was concerned. Monsieur 
 Naudie had not grasped the details of their 
 187 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 contradictory statements ; for their two lists of 
 grievances seemed to contradict each other. 
 
 " Father, you ought to protect us. It is 
 time ..." 
 
 "You will have to do what is right, I 
 warrant." 
 
 Then he tried to speak to them gently, with 
 calm voice, hoping to pacify them. " I have 
 not yet understood just what your difference is. 
 I am sure it is not a very serious thing ; better 
 than to excite yourselves more by rehearsing 
 it, you would do better to forget it. It takes 
 two to make a quarrel . . ," 
 
 A double cry of protest broke in upon his 
 words. " Well, then, she is the one who is 
 most in the wrong, and she does not forgive." 
 
 " How do you suppose I can judge between 
 you ? All that I care to know is, that you are 
 my life and my blood, and that I love you 
 both, and I would have you love each other also. 
 I know that much, and I would be glad to 
 ignore all the rest." 
 
 " Coward ! " exclaimed Jane ; and, turning 
 again toward Esther, she was about to go on 
 with her quarrel. But Esther had gained con- 
 trol of herself; she turned away, with scorn 
 upon her lips. Jane, who was raging still, 
 turned once more toward her husband. " Ah, 
 i88 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 I know well that you are on their side, against 
 me. I thought so. All right, keep there ! 
 keep there ! " And she rushed away like a 
 whirlwind. 
 
 Five minutes later. Monsieur Naudie was 
 begging her pardon, and comforting her with 
 tender words ; for, as soon as her anger ceased, 
 she fell to weeping ; and, to dry her tears, he 
 promised her that in future he would be stricter 
 with his daughters and would punish them ; 
 he promised all, everything that she asked. 
 He belonged to her, soul and body ; a great 
 tumult of emotion made him forget all except 
 her. 
 
 189 
 
PART THIRD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ON a beautiful October afternoon, clear 
 and balmy, Henry Defos went out, 
 for the first time, into the garden, which was 
 an enclosure much resembling the Naudie 
 garden. It extended from the porch of the 
 house to the wall, covered with its screen of 
 vines ; it had its old cedar-tree, its magnolia, 
 and its oleander bushes. It adjoined other 
 similar gardens, which continued the line of 
 the fortifications and that of the houses. All 
 was regular and quiet, much resembling the 
 comfortable habits of the families themselves, 
 who met beneath their shade or gathered their 
 beautiful flowers. 
 
 Henry Defos was recovering from a long 
 illness. The fatigue of revolving, for so long 
 a time, within the circle of theological thought, 
 and the excitement of carrying on a struggle 
 against his father's will had exhausted his own 
 more delicate nature ; the pressure of all these 
 190 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 emotions had drained his vitality, and prepared 
 him for an attack of typhoid fever, which had, 
 however, not been fatal. Coming out again 
 into the balmy air of autumn, with the flowers 
 still blooming, he experienced that tenderness 
 of feeling which always attends convalescence. 
 The faces about him were friendly, and seemed 
 very dear to him, after passing through that 
 period when all of them had expressed cold- 
 ness or anger. At this time he was walking, 
 with the feeble step of an infant, leaning upon 
 his mother's arm ; and Madame Defos's bulky 
 form lent a very substantial support. 
 
 At his other side was another attendant, who 
 gave him many encouraging smiles, such as 
 you often see on the faces of young mothers. 
 It was Jane. She had seized the occasion of 
 Henry's illness to give full play to that faculty 
 of zealous devotion which burned within her ; 
 she had been unwearied in her efforts, ceaseless 
 in her attendance at his bedside, buoyed up by 
 courage and faith that was almost sublime. 
 The one word which all the family used, to 
 express her conduct, was " admirable." This 
 word of commendation circulated freely in the 
 town, attached to her name like a Homeric 
 title. It was repeated by the friends who came 
 to learn the news, and by the gossips, who 
 191 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 found in Henry's illness a pleasant theme of 
 conversation. Twenty times a day it was re- 
 peated, "Young Madame Naudie is truly 
 admirable." 
 
 When Monsieur Fridolin, or Monsieur 
 Dehodecq, or some other person encountered 
 Monsieur Naudie on the street, and inquired 
 about the sick man, he always ended by re- 
 marking, " Your wife is admirable." 
 
 And Monsieur Naudie responded, "Yes, 
 she is truly admirable." But his own per- 
 sonal love for her was wounded and bleeding, 
 although he dared not complain ; and he en- 
 vied the happiness of the invalid, and reflected 
 sometimes, with a tender sadness, "Ah, if I 
 were in his place . . ." 
 
 Monsieur Defos, with an affectionate manner, 
 slowly came across the garden. " There, now ! 
 The whole distance ! Well done, my boy ! " 
 
 " Not yet very strong, father ! " 
 
 " Pooh ! at your age you will quickly build 
 up. I had the typhoid fever myself, when I 
 was a young man ; and at the end of a month 
 there was no sign of it." 
 
 David appeared above them on the porch, 
 and called out, a little facetiously, " They say 
 that you are learning all over again how to 
 walk, Henry." 
 
 192 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 It was now about time for the two men to 
 be at the office, so they did not linger any 
 longer with the convalescent. Henry was soon 
 fatigued with his effort, and sat down in a large 
 wicker chair. Jane was all attention, and 
 hastened to spread her own shawl over his 
 knees ; but he protested, with a quick, kindly 
 gesture. " Be careful, cousin ! " said he ; " you 
 will take cold yourself." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " Cold ? On 
 such a day as this ? " 
 
 He looked at her gratefully, holding the 
 shawl in his thin hand, and shivering slightly. 
 " How good you are to me ! " he said. " You 
 have given me your strength, your time, even 
 a part of your life. If I am once more able 
 to enjoy this beautiful autumn sunshine, it is 
 to you I owe it, and to my dear mother. Oh, 
 do not try to contradict me, mamma ! I know 
 how ill I have been." 
 
 After a brief silence he added, with a half- 
 suppressed sigh of regret, " Now, cousin, you 
 can go and be free again." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Jane, " not until you are 
 well. However, perhaps you would like to 
 be rid of me." She smiled the mischievous 
 smile of a pretty woman who knows well that 
 her presence is very acceptable. 
 13 193 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Henry did not reply in the protesting way 
 which she perhaps expected. Then Madame 
 Defos said, " Jane is an angel. I never believed 
 that she could be so devoted, especially since 
 she is not very strong. She is small and deli- 
 cate, much like a bird ; but when I, your mother, 
 sank from fatigue, she kept up, as strong after 
 two nights of watching as though she had just 
 gotten up from her bed." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Henry, " sickness does some 
 good. For a person is loved more when he 
 is suffering, when he seems to be at the gates 
 of death. Afterward the ordinary life claims 
 its rights. The quarrels and cares which have 
 been broken in upon for a while, commence 
 again. The misunderstandings and enmities 
 have to be taken up anew ..." 
 
 His brow clouded, already troubled by his 
 old reflections, here In the sweet enjoyment of 
 the sunshine, and the garden, and the flowers, 
 with these loving, comforting hearts beside 
 him. But Jane spoke : " Never mind, cousin ! 
 Your father will not annoy you any more. He 
 promised me that, while you were very ill. I 
 suspected the real cause of your sickness ; and 
 I took advantage of one of your worst days to 
 obtain from your father his promise to let you 
 do as you wish. He will not change his mind." 
 194 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The sick man's eyes opened wide. " Is that 
 really so ? " he asked. 
 
 " Henry," said Madame Defos, " your father 
 loves you more than you realize ; and if you 
 still retain those ideas of yours, he will not 
 oppose you." 
 
 In the common joy which all three shared 
 at that moment, Madame Defos regretted, a 
 little, having allowed her niece to break this 
 cheering news to the invalid. She, however, 
 never would have dared ask her husband to 
 alter a decision which he had once made, nor 
 would she have ventured to hope for such a 
 change. The only power that could have 
 worked the miracle was Jane's hardihood, her 
 quick instinct for seizing the favorable moment, 
 her self-confidence, and that indifference to all 
 obstacles which usually brought her success in 
 her plans. 
 
 At this moment Monsieur Naudie came 
 into the garden. He often appeared in this 
 way, partly to take the air, and partly to see 
 his wife ; he longed to get her attention, slight 
 as it always was, and was grateful for a word or 
 a look. But she generally ignored him. For 
 several weeks she had passed the greater part 
 of her time at Monsieur Defos's house, often 
 eating and sleeping there. Sometimes she 
 195 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 went back home, In the evening, shut herself 
 in her own room, and in the morning came 
 away to resume her duties at the sick man's 
 bedside. So far as her own home was con- 
 cerned, she was like a stranger, lodging in a 
 hotel. Her husband had thus far not dared 
 to make any complaint. He tried to hope for 
 some happier change, but, in his heart, knew 
 that no such change would come. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's dark form, descending 
 the steps of the porch, disturbed somewhat 
 this little scene. He was clad in his long 
 black coat, with a narrow white tie, badly ad- 
 justed, around his neck. He had a restless 
 manner and a sad expression of countenance ; 
 and he came up like some remote relative, un- 
 invited, dropping down into the midst of a fam- 
 ily party. Henry extended his hand ; which 
 Monsieur Naudie took, and said, in rather a 
 depressing way : " What a pleasure to see you 
 again out in the garden, my dear Henry ! You 
 seem to be getting on very well indeed. In a 
 few days you will be quite yourself again." 
 
 " You see to whom I owe It all," said the 
 convalescent, glancing from one to the other 
 of his two attendants. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie noted that his first glance 
 went toward Jane. 
 
 196 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 " And I owe you a great deal," he continued. 
 " Yes, I do ; because you have been very kind 
 to let Jane come to me so much," 
 
 Then he added, and his voice wavered a 
 little, " Now we shall be able to return her 
 to you." 
 
 A flash of joy irradiated Monsieur Naudie's 
 face as he said at once : " I have just come to 
 invite her to dinner to-day. It is now as 
 much as a month since we had her sit down 
 to a meal with us. This will be almost like 
 having her back from a distant journey. You 
 will come, Jane, will you not ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! If you wish it." There 
 was so little spontaneity in this reply that all 
 four members of the group looked at one an- 
 other and remained silent, as if each were 
 stopped by some hidden train of thought. 
 
 Henry was the first to regain his composure. 
 " We shall miss Jane very much, this evening," 
 he said, " because we have fallen into the agree- 
 able habit of seeing her with us ; but you have 
 been without her a long time, my dear cousin. 
 Each must take his turn." 
 
 While he was thus speaking, trying to con- 
 ceal the regret which was behind his words, 
 his mother looked straight toward Monsieur 
 Naudie, and her glance was black with hatred, 
 197 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 much like that of some wild beast ready for 
 attack. " Jane is now a veritable daughter to 
 us," she remarked. 
 
 And then, as if to deepen the antagonism 
 which lurked in her remark, she repeated, 
 " She is one of our family, you know ; we 
 love her like a daughter." 
 
 As she spoke, Madame Defos stood erect, 
 with head thrown back, and seemed to indicate 
 to Monsieur Naudie that Jane belonged to 
 him just as little as possible, and that, after 
 all, she could very easily be taken away from 
 him. 
 
 He perceived her meaning, and, with his 
 feelings hurt, turned to her and said : " For 
 that very reason, my dear madame, I shall be 
 deeply grateful to you for allowing her to 
 come to me even one evening, — to me ; and I 
 am, you know, only her husband." Then, 
 having shaken hands, with them, he departed, 
 leaving Madame Defos somewhat out of coun- 
 tenance, Henry anxious, and Jane annoyed. 
 
 Jane kept her word, but made them wait. 
 
 With the thoughtlessness of childhood, the 
 
 children, when they saw less of her, took for 
 
 granted that they would never again be troubled 
 
 with her presence. When it was announced 
 
 19S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 to them, as a joyful piece of news, that she 
 was coming back, they learned their error in 
 thinking she would not come again. Esther 
 followed her father's nervous, anxious look, as 
 he walked again and again around the dinner- 
 table, and glanced expectantly at the door. 
 The other three whispered together in a cor- 
 ner, suppressing their voices as if by instinct. 
 Then Zelia's merry laugh burst out like a 
 pistol-shot, — the clear, happy laughter of child- 
 hood, the laugh of other days. But she 
 stopped short, the door opened, there stood 
 Jane. " Ah, you are waiting for me ! " she 
 said, " you are very kind." 
 
 The nervous impatience and annoyance 
 which Monsieur Naudie had shown, as he 
 waited, took instant flight; and, kissing her 
 upon the forehead, he said to her, in a low 
 tone and without any accent of reproach, "Yes, 
 I have waited for you . . . waited a long time." 
 
 They sat down at the table. Monsieur 
 Naudie tried to start a conversation. Jane 
 replied only absent-mindedly. Her thoughts 
 seemed to be far away, — so much so, that 
 the children, litde by little, began talking 
 among themselves ; very much as though this 
 stranger, who was eating at their table, had 
 ceased to be interested in them. The meal 
 199 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 seemed long. When it was finally ended, 
 th,e children scampered away, and Monsieur 
 Naudie and his wife went into the little parlor. 
 "With nothing to occupy her, Jane stretched 
 herself out in an armchair. Her husband ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " he asked. 
 
 " Tired ? No, not at all ! " 
 
 " You seemed weary and sad at dinner." 
 
 " What an idea ! " 
 
 She arose and went to a little table, with 
 drawers in it. From one of them she drew 
 out a bit of fancy-work, left there several 
 weeks before. This she brought to the centre- 
 table, spread it out uilder the light of the lamp, 
 and began to examine it attentively. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie took a seat near her; 
 again he tried to draw her into conversation ; 
 but she had resolved to keep silence, as if to 
 show how unconcerned she was. Repulsed in 
 these attempts, and nervous but still patient, 
 and resolved to fortify himself against any 
 temptation to be angry, he began cutting open 
 a package of papers which he found near at 
 hand. It was the "Journal of French Mis- 
 sions," and he tried to glance through one or 
 two articles. 
 
 " What ! " he remarked. " Here is a letter 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 from Lessanto ; that is where my brother 
 Marcel is, but it does n't say anything about 
 him." 
 
 "Ah! . . ." 
 
 " Poor Marcel ! He went back a short 
 time before we were married. I wish that you 
 could have met him. Heaven alone knows 
 when we shall meet again. He especially de- 
 sired to be with us on that blessed day. Do 
 you ever recall it, Jane ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " 
 
 " What a beautiful address my father gave ! 
 Do you remember it ? " 
 
 " Of course ! " 
 
 " How wisely he spoke about the mystery 
 of love ! Do you remember his words, Jane ? 
 ' Love, sanctified by marriage, makes of the 
 two beings whom it unites one being, new and 
 unique. It is a part of eternity disclosed to 
 us. For love satisfies us only as we see that 
 it is capable of outlasting our transient emo- 
 tions, just as it survives, in passing into youth 
 and beauty.' Those were noble words, Jane. 
 Don't you approve them? They explain to 
 us our ideal." 
 
 Jane bent her head over her work, and 
 silence ensued, broken only by the light sound 
 of the silk in the canvas. Monsieur Naudie, 
 
 201 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 by a great effort, restrained the annoyance and 
 anger which were rising in his breast, took down 
 a huge book from a shelf, — a missionary work, 
 by Coillard, " Upon the Upper Zambesi," and, 
 finding his place in it, began skimming along 
 through its pages. He turned the leaves 
 mechanically, glancing at the paragraphs here 
 and there. Presently he chanced upon a 
 striking scene ; the death of Madame Coillard, 
 in one of the remote villages of the black con- 
 tinent, where she had gone with her husband. 
 He read : " She has lived, and worked, and 
 suffered, as have few of the missionaries' wives. 
 The Lord has taken her, and taken her ten- 
 derly. For more than thirty years she has 
 identified her life with mine; and has been, 
 next to my Saviour and my God, my strength 
 and shield. She was the heart and soul of all 
 my plans. In sharing my life, she has height- 
 ened my joys, softened my griefs, borne her 
 part in all my labors, through good and ill 
 report, modest and humble, always effacing 
 herself, with an unequalled devotion. In los- 
 ing her I have lost a true wife, one that I had 
 received at the hands of God. I could always 
 rely upon her judgment and her wisdom. 
 When we were first married, she told me that 
 I would never find her standing between me 
 
 202 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 and my duty. And she spoke truly. When 
 God called me to this remote end of the world, 
 she came with me joyously, without thinking 
 about her own wishes or comforts." 
 
 For a moment he fell Into a revery over this 
 beautiful description of a Christian marriage. 
 " That is the way to love," he said to himself. 
 " Sinking one's own will in the will of God, 
 always ready for whatever he asks. But I . . . 
 and . . . she . . ." Here his gaze wandered 
 to his wife ; and he saw upon her lips a smile, 
 elusive, fleeting, enigmatical. It occurred to 
 him to read aloud to her this page which had 
 so stirred him; but he shook his head and 
 closed the book ; she would not understand it 
 at all. There she sat, before him, pretty, silent, 
 mysterious ; a dainty being, full of caprices and 
 changes, whom he was constrained to love for 
 her own sake, and his own, with a boundless 
 love ; a being who was angry with him for his 
 timidity and constraint, but one whom he could 
 not bear to lose, having once possessed her. 
 
 Why did she scarcely speak to him ? Why 
 did she barely glance at him ? Why did she 
 avoid him? And why sit there, a few steps 
 away, more remote from him than she would 
 have been had that table been a wide, im- 
 passable sea.^ 
 
 203 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Upon the mantel a little Louis XVI. clock, 
 in a voice like tinkling crystals, struck the hour 
 of ten, Jane went steadily on with her work, 
 and, raising her eyes, met her husband's gaze. 
 "Jane," said Monsieur Naudie, moving over 
 toward her, " are you going to shut yourself in 
 your room again to-night ? " 
 
 She made no verbal answer, but nodded her 
 head in the affirmative. Then he spoke, in a 
 voice of entreaty, " Even to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes, even to-day." 
 
 The harsJi way in which she spoke that word 
 " to-day " showed clearly that she was fixed in 
 her resolution. With a manner which was 
 almost threatening. Monsieur Naudie came 
 close to her, and cried, "Jane, what do you 
 mean by this ? " 
 
 She made no response, but looked straight 
 at him. Then, for the first time, a touch of 
 suspicion and jealousy smote his heart. In- 
 stantly and instinctively he braced himself to 
 throw off the evil suggestion, so utterly did he 
 recoil from such odious thoughts. His action 
 had brought him quite close to Jane, who did 
 not draw away from him. With an impulsive 
 movement he drew her to his heart and kissed 
 her lips. She showed no traces of emotion, 
 made no effort to avoid the caress, neither to 
 204 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 return it ; her passivity was a completer repulse 
 to him than any active protest would have 
 been. 
 
 "Jane," he exclaimed, stepping back a few 
 paces, " are you not my wife ? " 
 
 With entire unconcern she replied, " Oh, yes, 
 I am your wife." Then she walked past him 
 toward the door. "You are a little nervous. 
 Good night ! " And she was gone, and Mon- 
 sieur Naudie sat him down and wept. 
 
 20S 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HENRY DEFOS'S recovery was contin- 
 uous and beautiful. Around him were 
 tender friends, and their aiFectionate glances 
 were showered upon him, and, in his sickness 
 and need, their hearts opened lovingly to him. 
 His mother showed a lingering trace of solici- 
 tude, and she heaped upon him all the warmth 
 of her nature, which contrasted strongly with 
 the coldness and indifference which she showed 
 toward all the others. His brother took a 
 friendly interest in him. His father, who was 
 not a man to waste himself in vain regrets, ac- 
 cepted the situation, took for granted that his 
 second son was not to become a minister, and 
 planned to make a place for him in his business, 
 whose steady growth demanded, constantly, new 
 methods. But Henry was in no hurry to be- 
 gin work. Wooed by the balmy days of the 
 beautiful autumn, he gave himself up to the joy 
 of this new awakening life within him, and his 
 soul sought those hidden joys which sleep at 
 the heart of things. Thus it was that, with 
 Jane near him, devoting all her time to him, 
 he experienced exquisite hours of self-abandon- 
 206 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 ment, far from the world, here in this beautiful 
 garden, with its winding paths, and its rustling 
 falling leaves, and its rugged old cedar. When 
 the doctor advised exercise, they went out ; and 
 you might have happened upon them on the 
 mall, or met them strolling along the rocky 
 seashore, where the fishermen, in idle hours, 
 dig for shell-fish, after the tide has gone far out 
 beyond the crumbling ruins of the great Cardi- 
 nal's dyke. Often they ventured to go out 
 together for a ride ; and could be seen canter- 
 ing along the rather dismal country roads, where 
 the strong west wind lays low the harvests, and 
 twists the young saplings, while the gray sea 
 rolls in over the marshes. 
 
 Their near relationship, Jane's well-known 
 English training, and Henry's reputation for 
 seriousness of character, — these things tended to 
 silence any gossip which otherwise might have 
 arisen. Nevertheless, as they rode through 
 the old streets, looks of surprise sometimes 
 followed them ; and, as they passed, various 
 remarks dropped from the bystanders. "An 
 Amazon ! "Who is she, now ? " 
 
 "Pastor Naudie's wife. She is with her 
 cousin, young Defos." 
 
 " The one who started to become a minister, 
 and gave it up ? " 
 
 207 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 « Exacdy ! " 
 
 They usually stopped there. Henry and Jane 
 knew nothing of these comments. With smiles 
 they replied to Monsieur Lanthelme's cynical 
 greeting, or to the elaborate salute ofFered by 
 Monsieur Fridolin ; and they cared little what 
 echoes in unfriendly hearts might be raised by 
 the clatter of their horses' feet on the pavement. 
 They were happy, and they cared for naught 
 else. Although they may have felt now and 
 then a passing doubt, yet the increasing inten- 
 sity of their growing passion blinded them to 
 their own situation, and to the opinions of the 
 outside world. 
 
 In the course of their long rides, their con- 
 versation often became serious and confiden- 
 tial ; and Henry's earnest methods of thought 
 seemed really to make an impression upon 
 Jane's frivolous little mind. She always gave 
 him to understand that she saw his meaning. 
 At first she had been alarmed by his atheism ; 
 but she soon grew used to it, and accepted it, 
 vaguely willing that he should be condemned if 
 she could be condemned with him. Besides, 
 there were other considerations which helped 
 reconcile her to his views : one was the mis- 
 chievous desire to annoy her husband ; another 
 was her vanity over her own daring, in thus 
 208 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 overstepping all the old bounds of her thought. 
 She had a vague idea that in accepting his point 
 of view, she was freeing herself from all the 
 old pledges, and was cutting off, at one blow, 
 all the moral restraints of society. This last- 
 named line of thought she worked out quite by 
 herself, according to the law of secrecy which 
 dominated her nature and rarely came out into 
 the light. Henry was really far removed from 
 a nature like hers. He had, essentially, the 
 soul of an apostle ; and in giving up his old 
 theological views, he had relinquished not an 
 iota of his high idealism of conduct. The 
 serious words which fell from time to time 
 from his pretty cousin's lips, caused him some 
 uneasiness ; with a woman's logic, she under- 
 mined foundations which Henry never thought 
 of touching. At a certain point he always 
 stopped, forcing himself to give up his destruc- 
 tive processes, and attempting to make repairs. 
 He talked about " a fixed mysterious power," 
 which pushes humanity on toward a higher and 
 higher ideal ; he recognized the weight of 
 usage and the authority of the already estab- 
 lished code of morality ; he took account of 
 those accumulated traditions which are closely 
 intertwined with the conditions of present prog- 
 ress. Thus, while he gave up his old dog- 
 14 209 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 matic system of theology, he preserved the 
 scaffolding which had surrounded it ; but Jane, 
 finding it difficult to understand, threw it bodily 
 away. 
 
 Meanwhile, Monsieur Naudie suffered in 
 silence, now that his wife had gone out of his 
 life. He did not see the exact state of affairs ; 
 he knew only that each day she seemed to draw 
 farther away from him, each day become more 
 indifferent to his presence. He could not di- 
 vine what was going on in her heart ; the chief 
 point, to him, was that she was neglecting her 
 duty, was disregarding all the obligations which 
 her marriage had laid upon her. There were 
 her duties toward the children, her duties as 
 wife of a minister, and her duties as the pos- 
 sessor of a large fortune. Now, in the life of 
 a conscientious Protestant, duty takes prece- 
 dence of everything else ; it is the motive 
 power and the regulative power. That a per- 
 son should disregard the voice of duty, and be 
 careless about all obligations, small or great, — 
 this indicates, always, a serious disturbance of 
 mental and moral health. Jane's cool disdain 
 simply threw a cloud over the timid bursts of 
 passion which Monsieur Naudie exhibited at 
 times ; but when he reflected upon her neglect 
 of duty, he felt that he must take some posi- 
 
 210 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tive action ; and he ventured to remonstrate 
 with her. His manner of addressing her 
 showed clearly the chaos of his affectionate, 
 wounded heart ; he spoke to her merely about 
 certain concrete duties, — as, for instance, her 
 attendance at public worship, or her visita- 
 tions of the poor and sick, or her care of 
 the house. And all these Jane put at once 
 away from her, without giving them a mo- 
 ment's thought. 
 
 " Jane, are you going out to walk ? Have 
 you, then, forgotten that this afternoon there 
 is a meeting of the Charitable Society ? " 
 
 " I am aware of it ; but I am not going." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " It 's too fine a day." 
 
 Or, again, it would be like this : " Jane, 
 are n't you going with me to see that poor 
 widow whose husband was lost at sea ? " 
 
 " Not to-day. I can't to-day." 
 
 Or, at still another time, " I have just been 
 talking with the master of the academy, and he 
 is full of complaints about Abraham. How 
 much that child needs careful, affectionate 
 oversight ! " 
 
 " It seems to me that you or Esther would 
 better attend to that." 
 
 In reality, these were not the things which 
 
 211 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 most tormented Monsieur Naudie. Under 
 these mild complaints lurked far stormier 
 thoughts. He struggled to control them ; 
 but the slightest incident might suffice to turn 
 them loose. 
 
 On a certain Sunday, when heavy dense 
 clouds hung over the sky, he had come back 
 from preaching at Marcilly. He had made 
 the journey on foot, as in the olden time. 
 The long walk across the country, where the 
 wind cut into his face, had not much served 
 to quiet his feelings ; he took up again the 
 burden of his home cares about where he had 
 laid it down on his departure. As he strode 
 along, with bowed head, through the Place 
 d'Armes, he met Monsieur Merlin, who stopped 
 him. 
 
 Monsieur Merlin, for some little time past, 
 had been declaring himself the advocate of 
 complete rest on Sunday. He argued for 
 man's moral and physical needs, in various 
 pamphlets which he carried stuffed into his 
 overcoat pockets. He now drew out one of 
 these packages, to offer it to his minister. In 
 addition, he opened one of them, and was 
 indicating, with his finger, a certain important 
 sentence, when a noise drew his attention. He 
 turned, and saw Henry and Jane out for a 
 
 212 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 walk, and just passing ; keeping step with each 
 other as they walked briskly along. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie raised his eyes and greeted 
 them, trying also to smile. Monsieur Merlin 
 raised his hat and made them an expansive 
 salutation. For a moment the two men stood 
 and followed the young couple with their 
 eyes, as they turned at the corner of the Place 
 d'Armes, and passed along — keeping very 
 closely together — in front of the massive clas- 
 sic fa9ade of the cathedral. Monsieur Naudie 
 repressed a sigh. Then, as he glanced at his 
 companion, he saw that the notary's counte- 
 nance was agitated; and, behind those bluish 
 glasses which concealed his eyes. Monsieur 
 Naudie felt sure that his secret was discovered ; 
 he felt sure that Monsieur Merlin had divined 
 what tormenting suspicions he held deep in 
 his heart ; and as he stood there he grew pale 
 and trembled. 
 
 Monsieur Merlin closed his book. They 
 both turned at the same moment, and the 
 notary remarked, " Young Defos is about well 
 again ? " And his sharp eyes seemed to pierce 
 the blue tint of his spectacles. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; thank Heaven ! " replied Mon- 
 sieur Naudie. 
 
 " I am told that he has given up his studies." 
 213 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Yes, he has." 
 
 " Doubtless, to remain at La Rochelle ? " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie replied, with a rather weak 
 voice, " Yes, I believe so. He is going into 
 business with his father." 
 
 "Ah! . . ." 
 
 With this exclamation, more suggestive than 
 all the immoral literature so familiar to Mon- 
 sieur Merlin, the two men separated. But 
 Monsieur Naudie, instead of returning to his 
 house, walked out to saunter near the harbor. 
 The boats were putting in, driven by the threat- 
 ening sky. Many of them were already qui- 
 etly moored within the calm basin, crowded 
 closely together, their bare masts looking like 
 a leafless forest. They had been warned by 
 signals from the shore, had hurried in before 
 the wind, and now rocked idly upon the water ; 
 while outside, the open sea began to toss and 
 lash itself into a fury. Their crews were loung- 
 ing around the public house, playing at " bot- 
 tles," drinking up the little silver for which 
 they had risked their lives. Several women, 
 near, seemed restless because of some craft 
 which had not yet put in; and, at one moment, 
 anxiously questioned the sailors, or, at another, 
 strained their gaze out over the rising sea, 
 whose waves seemed clamorous for prey. Mon- 
 214 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 sleur Naudie wandered about among the groups, 
 with bitter care gnawing at his heart, with his 
 spirit tossing on as wild a storm as the one 
 which was perhaps now swallowing up husbands 
 and brothers on the great deep. Much as 
 these poor women strained their eyes, seeking 
 to penetrate the thick obscurity that hung over 
 the sea, so did his own gaze search through the 
 clouded depths of his own breast ; and the 
 wayward flight of his own wild thoughts was 
 like that of the flocks of birds which came 
 sweeping wildly in, driven before the fiiry of 
 the tempest. He passed, without noticing 
 him, his son Abraham, who was playing with 
 some ragamuffins. He returned home, finally, 
 he hardly knew by what streets. And he had 
 the strength, still, to keep his own counsels, 
 and to reply pleasantly to his daughters as 
 they greeted him. He was able, also, to let 
 his glance fall quietly on the beautiful face of 
 his wife, crowding back into the depths of his 
 heart, as a master might bolt and bar some slave 
 into a dungeon, the wild suggestions which had 
 been aroused by Monsieur Merlin's evil words. 
 
 The next morning, however, the first cry of 
 anguish burst from him. 
 
 At the hour of the daily ride with Henry, 
 Jane was ready and waiting. She was evidently 
 
 2IS 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 impatient to be ofF, and her horse was pawing 
 restlessly in the courtyard. With one hand 
 she held the skirt of her dress, and with the 
 other she cracked her whip, not caring whether 
 or not she revealed her impatience to her hus- 
 band, who stood, unnoticed, near. The hour 
 came and passed. Her whip cracked more 
 restlessly. Monsieur Naudie remarked, with- 
 out betraying his feelings in his voice, " Your 
 friend is keeping you waiting to-day ? " 
 
 The restless whip cracked once or twice 
 against the innocent air. " A little, that is so." 
 
 " You have been waiting since half-past 
 three ; there is four o'clock striking now. Per- 
 haps he will not come." 
 
 Jane's eyes gave her only reply. Monsieur 
 Naudie understood their silent answer. She 
 was quivering with tender vexation against 
 Henry, and with hate for him, her husband. 
 With a touch of cruelty he remarked uncon- 
 cernedly, " Doubtless he had some engage- 
 ment, at the last moment." 
 
 Jane looked at him a second time, and her 
 glance expressed a hatred even greater than 
 before. " He will be here," she said, " I am 
 sure." 
 
 She paused a moment directly before her 
 husband, then resumed her restless walk. Her 
 216 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 spurs jingled on the flagstones. In an altered 
 voice Monsieur Naudie said, " Jane ! " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " Don't go out ! Don't go out, I beg you," 
 
 Again she stopped, in front of him. " Why 
 not?" 
 
 He could only repeat his entreaty : " Give 
 up this ride ! For to-day, at least. To please 
 me." 
 
 Although his tone was more one of entreaty 
 than of threatening, Jane grew uneasy for the 
 first time. With that rapidity of adaptation 
 which women often show, she became at once 
 apparently calm, and replied in a tranquil, inno- 
 cent way, " To please you, my friend ? Why; 
 I don't understand you." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie had now lifted away the 
 weight which was crushing him into silence. 
 Behind the first sentence, which was too difficult 
 of utterance, others rose into view, like the 
 waves behind the line of foam which dies out 
 upon the beach. 
 
 " Oh, there ! You . . . you do surely un- 
 derstand. I know that you must. Don't force 
 me to explain ! You can read my thought. I 
 hardly dare utter It. Oh, I am sure that we un- 
 derstand each other ; that we are going to un- 
 derstand each other better, in the fiiture. I 
 217 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 don't doubt that ; I cannot doubt it. But . . , 
 but why do you thus withdraw from me, after 
 . . . after you have given . . . Oh, don't you see 
 how I suffer, even unto death, at seeing you 
 avoid me so, and always seeking the society of 
 another ? " 
 
 Did Jane feel pity, for an instant, as she saw 
 his anguish, or was she simply artful? She 
 seemed to wait with interest and even sympathy. 
 " My poor friend," she said, glancing at him 
 tenderly, "what foolish fancies do fill your 
 head! How strange they seem to me, coming 
 from such a serious, sensible man as you are ! 
 Just see how simple the whole matter is ! I 
 need a little variety, a little exercise ; Henry 
 does also. There! We ride out together. 
 You are not able to go with us, is n't that so ? 
 Think of it ! A clergyman on a horse ! What 
 would people say ? " 
 
 She reasoned in such a serious way, with 
 such convincing words and tones, that Mon- 
 sieur Naudie lost countenance. He began to 
 feel that perhaps, after all, his suspicions were 
 ill-founded and absurd. He reflected a moment, 
 and then replied, with some hope and yet with 
 hesitancy : " I have asked nothing of you here- 
 tofore, Jane. I have never been able to tell 
 you how much I love you, and you have not 
 218 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 realized it. Now, I beg you, make this one 
 little sacrifice for my sake ! Give up this ride 
 to-day ! Just to-day ! Just this once ! It is 
 only a little thing, but it will help to restore my 
 confidence ; and I shall be very, very grateful to 
 you." 
 
 All his youthfulness, all his simple honesty 
 of heart, could be felt in this pathetic entreaty. 
 
 Quickly, very quickly, with her instinct for 
 intrigue aroused within her at any sign of 
 danger, Jane reflected upon the great gain she 
 would make for herself by this slight conces- 
 sion, and the harm which might result to her 
 plans if she refused ; moreover, time was pass- 
 ing, and Henry, perhaps, would not come. 
 She forced a smile into her face. " There, 
 there, my good friend ! " she said. " Since you 
 make such a serious matter ..." 
 
 The sound of a horse, trotting rapidly, inter- 
 rupted her, and Henry came riding into the 
 courtyard. She went out, with Monsieur 
 Naudie, to meet him. He excused himself 
 She felt that he would be greatly disappointed, 
 and, perhaps, he would think she had been 
 offended at his delay ; whereas she had already 
 pardoned him, in her heart. The trifling an- 
 noyance of the man whom she loved seemed to 
 her, at that moment, a thousand-fold more 
 219 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 important than did the anguish of her husband ; 
 and her one wish was to relieve Henry of his 
 uneasiness. She turned toward her husband. 
 "You see, he has come," she said, and she 
 made an attempt to conceal her joy. " How 
 can I send him away ! And I am all ready, 
 too. It is impossible, is n't it ? Some other 
 day, to-morrow . . ." 
 
 And she leaped lightly into her saddle, smiled 
 upon poor Monsieur Naudie, waved him a 
 farewell, and the two rode away. 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WHEN Jane waved a farewell to her 
 husband with her riding-whip and 
 smiled upon him, she had also promised — 
 was it out of prudence or pity ? — that on the 
 morrow she would make the slight sacrifice 
 which he asked. But the ride was delightful, 
 and had to-day a spice of daring in it ; there 
 was, also, a suggestion of romance and melan- 
 choly in this closing season of the year. Dur- 
 ing the night a squall had stripped the elms, 
 on the mall, of their remaining leaves. Along 
 the highway the slender trees raised their bare 
 dry branches imploringly toward the sky. The 
 heavens frowned, and a sharp chill in the air 
 portended the near approach of winter. Nature 
 seemed to reflect the sadness which was in these 
 two hearts ; the end was approaching. 
 
 Henry spoke, without looking at Jane. 
 "We must give up these pleasant excursions 
 before long ; winter is almost here. Besides, 
 I am about well again ; and my father expects 
 me to set about my work." 
 
 He sighed. Jane made no response. Per- 
 haps she thought he was too easily resigned 
 
 221 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 to such a change. But any such annoyance 
 passed quickly away; for, when he said, on 
 leaving her, after the ride, " To-morrow ! " she 
 answered, without any thought of her promise 
 to her husband, " To-morrow ! " 
 
 If she had dreaded a scene with Monsieur 
 Naudie, her fears were quickly set at rest ; he 
 never mentioned her half-promise. In a soul 
 like his, temporary explosions tended to post- 
 pone the supreme crisis. The severe training 
 which his heart had undergone, in his youth, 
 still kept him back from violent expressions of 
 emotion. His theory of life, simple, consist- 
 ent, stable, optimistic, served to reinforce his 
 patience ; he said softly to himself, again and 
 again, " Youth . . . caprices . . . She will see 
 her danger . . . she will recognize her mis- 
 take . . . God will hold her back from any 
 serious error." These reflections allayed, in a 
 measure, his anxiety. Then some tempest of 
 passion would sweep over him ; and he shud- 
 dered at the abysses which were revealed by 
 these flashes of illumination. He struggled to 
 control himself. He summoned his most con- 
 siderate and charitable interpretations of her 
 nature and actions. Thus he waited a long 
 time, and said nothing. All that he dared 
 attempt was to recall Jane, now and then, to 
 
 222 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 her formal duties ; for she disregarded these 
 so openly that he could not affect to be igno- 
 rant of the neglect She always tried to avoid 
 contradicting him ; explanations were soon 
 over. 
 
 If he asked, "How was Monsieur Fridolin's 
 sermon, to-day ? " she answered, — 
 
 " I was not at church." 
 
 " Ah ! you were not at church last Sunday, 
 either, I think ? " 
 
 " You think ? Well, I will go next Sun- 
 day." 
 
 One day, a violent wind prevented the usual 
 ride. However, no sooner was breakfast over 
 than Jane made ready to go out. The con- 
 versation failed to interest her. 
 
 " Are you going out on such a day ? " 
 
 " I 'm not going far." 
 
 " To your aunt's, doubtless ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! Besides, there is a meeting 
 of the charitable society this afternoon. I 
 would like to be there. My aunt can go with 
 me." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! At what hour is the meeting ? " 
 
 " Four o'clock." 
 
 « And until then ! " 
 
 " Oh, the time will pass somehow." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie himself went out a few 
 223 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 minutes after her. At about a quarter of four 
 he saw Madame Defos walking along near 
 the Aufredi Hospital ; naturally he inferred, 
 " They are alone together" And he at once 
 hastened toward the Rue Reaumur. Even now 
 his hopefulness did not quite desert him, but 
 kept whispering, "Jane is about to follow on, 
 after her aunt; something has delayed her; 
 she will surely follow soon." 
 
 He quickened his steps, as he drew near the 
 house. The black grating, made of iron, bear- 
 ing its coat-of-arms, barred his passage, as if 
 guarding a fortress. For a moment Mon- 
 sieur Naudie gazed at this iron gate, as if 
 he expected it at any instant to open and 
 allow Jane to come forth. But it did not 
 open, and the gilded motto at the top struck 
 him with a sense of irony : " Omnia bene^ 
 Deo juvante." 
 
 Despite the sharp wind, he walked back and 
 forth on the sidewalk, fully expecting Jane, at 
 any moment, to come hurrying out after her 
 aunt. A quiet, dignified street it was, lined 
 with its silent old mansions ; along the side- 
 walks a few human forms might now and then 
 be seen rapidly gliding, with faces half hid, and 
 bodies closely wrapt. With a half-unconscious 
 gesture, Monsieur Naudie partly opened his 
 224 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 overcoat, to glance at his watch. Every sec- 
 ond that flew by diminished the probability of 
 his seeing Jane come forth. The great bell 
 struck the half-hour. He still tried to invent 
 reasons : " The cold weather has kept her in ; 
 the wind ..." But two words, which inev- 
 itably joined themselves to these, to complete 
 the sentence, were too much for even his self- 
 restraint : " Has kept her in . . . with him." 
 And he retraced his steps until he stood before 
 the gateway, and then he rang. He was ad- 
 mitted, and was shown into the parlor. 
 
 There he found Jane and Henry, alone 
 together. They were on opposite sides of a 
 card-table. A lamp was burning, throwing its 
 light upon them, and leaving the other parts 
 of the room in shadow. She was half-reclining 
 in an armchair; he was seated upon a small 
 sofa, reading aloud. He stopped reading as 
 Monsieur Naudie entered, arose, and laid aside 
 his book. 
 
 "You are alone? " asked Monsieur Naudie, 
 unconsciously disclosing his thought. 
 
 "Oh yes ! " replied Henry. " My mother 
 has gone out; my father and brother have 
 gone to the office. Won't you be seated ? " 
 
 He drew an armchair forward; and Mon- 
 sieur Naudie sat down. As he did so, his 
 15 225 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 glance fell on the closed book which Henry 
 had laid upon the table ; and he read its title, 
 " L'Abbesse de Jouarre." 
 
 "You have been reading from Renan," he 
 said with an effort. " He is a great author. 
 What a pity that such marvellous talent as 
 his should serve so perverted a nature ! " 
 
 Henry and Jane, who had not stirred, ex- 
 changed a glance, and almost a smile. " Oh, 
 Renan is not the man he is often made out to 
 be," said Henry. " Nobody ever spoke more 
 profoundly of the Infinite, or defended more 
 soundly the rights of the soul." 
 
 "Yes, I know," responded Monsieur Naudie. 
 " I am aware that he simulates a certain ideal- 
 ism ; but I believe that this idealism is only a 
 veil which he throws over a sensualism which 
 he dares not openly avow." 
 
 These " isms " fell heavily upon the air in 
 the dim room, already charged with the vibra- 
 tions of languishing passion ; quite as some 
 gloomy night-bird might settle himself upon a 
 branch where a nightingale was still warbling 
 his delicious melody. Jane thought the sug- 
 gestions absurd, and saw that she was being 
 humiliated. How could such as she under- 
 stand that underneath Monsieur Naudie's 
 commonplace words burned a passionate devo- 
 226 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tion, which deserved to be expressed in words 
 of gold or in winged metaphors ! 
 
 Henry replied, defending his author, and 
 maintaining those theses which seem always 
 new and true, because they are so close to our 
 primal instincts. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie did not keep up the dis- 
 cussion. " I have not read Renan's latest 
 writings," he said. " I know, merely, that my 
 father held them in very moderate esteem." 
 Then he arose to leave. " Shall I escort 
 you ? " he asked, looking toward his wife. 
 
 Underneath the forced calmness of his words 
 she did not perceive the hidden tumult of his 
 heart. Because he was, at this moment, dis- 
 turbing with his disagreeable words the smooth 
 current of her pleasant dream, she thought of 
 her husband as a contemptible fool. She was 
 unable to see that he had any other purpose 
 than to humiliate and threaten her. 
 
 " No, thanks ! " she replied, " I will remain 
 a little while ; " and added, " I will dine here." 
 
 He had the courage to respond, as always, 
 " Very well, very well ! " And he went out, 
 with head bowed, like one who had been 
 defeated. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's instincts, lashed by his 
 sufferings, were slowly awakening ; feelings of 
 227 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 rage and hatred, which had been fomented by 
 the wounds his heart had received, were rising 
 slowly but surely to the surface. Moreover, 
 their voices, which were to him new voices, 
 found themselves in close accord with still 
 another voice, namely, the voice of wisdom, to 
 which he always gave heed. Like the others, 
 this monitor urged him now to shake off his 
 passive submission ; he felt it his duty to pro- 
 tect his wife ; the same malign influence which 
 was drawing her away from him, was drawing 
 her also into dark and devious paths. Was he 
 not, in large measure, responsible for this ? 
 " Husband, know you not that you may save 
 your wife ? " 
 
 Several slight incidents, which followed one 
 another through the day, impressed more and 
 more clearly upon him the perils into which, 
 through his excessive patience, he had drawn 
 several people. Esther being weighed down 
 with her anxiety, the household was at sixes and 
 sevens. Abraham did not come home to 
 dinner. Zelia coughed all the forenoon with- 
 out anybody's concerning himself about her. 
 Bertha had a violent dispute with the chamber- 
 maid. Ah, surely these children were more 
 truly orphans than in the former days, when 
 their father devoted himself to them. After 
 
 2 23 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 dinner. Bertha and Zelia went up into Esther's 
 room. Monsieur Naudie followed, a few mo- 
 ments later. As he entered, they looked at him 
 as coldly as if he had been a stranger. Esther 
 was the only one who gave him any welcome 
 whatever; she tried to smile as she held out 
 her feverish hand. After he had asked a 
 few formal questions, he perceived that he had 
 little or nothing to say to them. They chat- 
 tered away among themselves, and he went 
 over and sat in a corner, upon an English sofa, 
 his head in his hands, chewing the cud of bit- 
 ter reflections. Presently a little hand slipped 
 softly into his. Zelia was standing before 
 him, as he looked up, gazing upon him with 
 an expression of pity. Then she spoke, 
 " Papa ! " and climbed upon his knees, and 
 embraced him, as in the old time, when she 
 was his favorite. 
 
 As she did so. Monsieur Naudie intercepted 
 a glance which the little one sent across to 
 Esther, — a glance which asked, " Is this it ? 
 Did I understand you ? Did you mean for 
 me to embrace him ? " 
 
 But the father did not linger over such a 
 
 discovery ; he gave his entire attention to the 
 
 dear caresses which were bestowed upon him. 
 
 He pressed against his poor storm-tossed heart 
 
 22g 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 the little innocent head, and murmuredj " Dear 
 child ! my own dear child ! " only that. He 
 was too much overcome with memories and 
 fears. 
 
 The sick daughter looked on at this little 
 silent drama, doubtless comprehending its hid- 
 den significance ; for she said softly to Bertha, 
 who was leaning over her shoulder, " Be good 
 to our papa ! He is very unhappy." 
 
 After he emerged from Esther's room. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie waited a long time in his study. 
 He reflected, " I must go and speak to him ; " 
 and he said it aloud, in an audible voice, as if 
 his wife had been within hearing. 
 
 Jane returned late, her heart vibrating with 
 that mysterious birth of love which had come 
 to her, which she tasted again and again at 
 her leisure, — an experience which was unfolding 
 slowly within her, like a slowly blossoming 
 flower not yet fully blown. She wished to 
 reach her room with steps unperceived, there 
 to continue her blissful reverie, — a revericj a 
 dream, which sleep alone interrupted, which 
 began anew with each new day, which she 
 took up each morning where she had laid it 
 down the evening before. 
 
 Her husband's voice made her tremble. 
 " Jane ! " 
 
 230 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 She turned, surprised at the authority with 
 which he spoke. " What is it ? " 
 
 " Come in here, please ! I have something 
 to say to you." 
 
 " But it is late." 
 
 " Never mind ! " 
 
 She went in. A heavy cloak was wrapped 
 about her, nearly covering her lace ; her splen- 
 did eyes, made brilliant by her passion, looked 
 forth at him. She said again, " What is it 
 now ? " 
 
 " Oh, several things ! " replied Monsieur 
 Naudie. 
 
 She knew well that she was approaching a 
 crisis. Boldly she laid aside her cloak; and 
 she stood forth, ready for battle, like a soldier 
 who, in an excess of audacity, lays aside his 
 helmet. " Ah, well, go on, then ! " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie intended to speak calmly, 
 soberly, as one of his character ought, without 
 giving rein to his passion. His great effort to 
 maintain control of himself so utterly absorbed 
 him that he did not notice the challenging atti- 
 tude which his wife had taken. "In the first 
 place," said he, " you read rather bad books." 
 
 Jane's lips curled with scorn, because this 
 indirect attack corresponded so poorly with his 
 aggressive manner. 
 
 231 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " And you are yielding all too much to a 
 dangerous temptation." 
 
 At this second sentence she was reminded 
 of the game which children play, and she said 
 to herself, "He is burning now." But she 
 waited in silence ; and Monsieur Naudi6 con- 
 tinued, in a gentle tone of reproof, which was 
 almost paternal : " Surely, Jane, you ought to 
 reflect a little more carefully upon who you 
 are, upon who we are. You keep yourself 
 far from me, you separate your duties from 
 mine. I will say nothing about the children, 
 to whom you promised to be a mother ; inas- 
 much as you have no love for them, it is per- 
 haps quite as well that you leave them entirely 
 to the care of their older sister. She is capable 
 of taking your place. But, most important of 
 all, you are a minister's wife, Jane. You are 
 not, and you cannot be, a woman of the 
 world. You have something better to do than 
 to busy yourself with these rides and visits 
 and elaborate toilets. You have thrown off 
 wholly your . . . your duties" The word came 
 to his lips often ; it seemed to him to comprise 
 everything. " You do not go to church any 
 more." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " interrupted Jane, quietly. 
 " I shall go less and less." 
 232 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The curtness of her remark, and the indif- 
 ferent tone in which it was muttered, almost 
 disconcerted her husband. " How is that ? " 
 he cried. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 She was seated in front of the hearth, where 
 an autumn fire was dying out; she held out 
 toward the flame a small foot, which was shod, 
 despite the cold weather, with a delicate shoe 
 that did not cover her ankles. And she began, 
 without looking at her husband, who stood 
 erect near her: "You always talk about duty, 
 my dear friend. But duty is not equally bind- 
 ing on everybody ; things that are duties for 
 those who believe, are not at all duties for those 
 who do not believe." 
 
 Her dainty foot moved restlessly in front 
 of the embers. As her husband did not at 
 once reply, she raised her eyes to his face. 
 " Those who do not believe ? " he repeated 
 slowly after her, as if he were weighing each 
 of the heavy words which had come bubbling 
 so lightly from her pretty lips. "Is it best for 
 you to talk in this way, Jane ? Is it you who 
 does not believe ? And you tell me this ? " 
 
 The little foot remained poised before the 
 fire, wilful, capricious ; while the head, a little 
 disordered by the cloak, nodded in affirmation. 
 
 " Jane," said Monsieur Naudie, " you speak 
 233 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 with astonishing levity regarding extremely 
 serious matters ; you sit there, in that chair, 
 and your words pierce me, even to the bottom 
 of my heart. What then ! These talks with an 
 atheist, and these readings from pernicious 
 books, could not fail to sap the foundations of 
 your faith, and perhaps even of your morality." 
 
 His voice trembled as he spoke these last 
 words, but she did not oflfer any comment; 
 and he continued : " What does man's reason 
 avail, as against the commands of conscience, 
 or as against the affirmations of the heart? 
 All the discussions of the philosophers in all 
 past times, Jane, have not established as much 
 truth, regarding these problems, as have the 
 simplest prayers of the humblest hearts. 
 How they have debated and written! How- 
 ever, this one thing is sure : we see God all 
 about us ; when we stretch our hands in 
 entreaty out toward the Infinite One, they 
 are never repulsed. I have myself verified 
 that, in my own troubled experience." 
 
 He seemed to grow larger, while he spoke, 
 as does any man who speaks out of deep 
 conviction. But his voice trembled, when, 
 coming down from the heights of abstract 
 thought, he began to speak of his own con- 
 crete, poignant grief, saying : " It is when the 
 234 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 great crises of life come — just as . one has 
 come ... to youj Jane — that we ought 
 to call upon God. You remember, do you 
 not, those words of the Psalmist, ' God is my 
 rock ' ? " 
 
 She was ensconced in her easy-chair, her 
 head was lowered, her gaze was fixed, and her 
 foot had ceased its by-play and was with- 
 drawn under her gown. Presently she spoke : 
 " These things, doubtless, are all true for you, 
 my friend ; for me they have ceased to be 
 so. What can I do ? I thought I had some 
 religion, as you have ; perhaps I did have 
 some. However, now that is all over." 
 
 " There is no vacillating, Jane, within the 
 circle of the divine order, as there is in human 
 affairs. God never mocks us. He is sure. 
 He never takes back from us that which he 
 has once given us. He only asks us to supple- 
 ment his power with our weak efforts. When 
 he leaves us, it is simply that we leave him. 
 But I know well,- Jane, that in what you have 
 been saying, it is not you who have spoken, 
 but another has spoken through you." 
 
 His voice quivered, and he seemed to gasp 
 
 for breath ; then he regained his voice, and 
 
 it vibrated with emotion. " It is another, a 
 
 stronger, whose words and thoughts you but 
 
 23s 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 echo. He has robbed you of your rightful 
 mind ; he has drawn you away from duty, 
 and beguiled you from your true path of 
 life. It is he whom I cannot bear to have 
 near you ; I protest against the influence which 
 he exerts over you." 
 
 Soon the inevitable point was reached in 
 their interview, where the real question at stake 
 was brought plainly forward; and they dis- 
 cussed it, laying aside the theological side 
 issues, and Jane defended herself with all the 
 daring of her nature ; her passion of love 
 nerved her, and she spoke plainly, disdaining 
 all disguises and subterfuges. 
 
 " Yes, you are right," said she. " It is Henry 
 who has opened my eyes. I was a closed book 
 to myself; he has given me the key which en- 
 ables me to understand myself. I will conceal 
 nothing. It is his lofty thought which guides 
 me, it is the light of his soul which illumines 
 my path. Why should I deny it ? It is the 
 living truth, and you know it." 
 
 As she spoke, she stood up and confronted 
 him. He stood before her, towering above 
 her with his superior height, and his wrathful 
 countenance was filled with threatening. 
 
 "Go on!" he exclaimed. "Tell it all! 
 Let me hear everything ! " 
 236 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " I have told you all." 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " What more do you wish ? " 
 
 " The most important thing of all ; that 
 which you keep guard over in the depths of 
 your frail little heart. Oh, I begin to know 
 you, Jane. There is more which you have not 
 told me." 
 
 Jane entrenched herself within her impreg- 
 nable silence, and Monsieur Naudie went on 
 impetuously : " It is not alone your reason 
 which he has gained possession of; I know 
 well that I find behind your actions, behind 
 your words and reasonings . . . Oh, you need 
 not reply to me. I can read in you at this 
 moment . . ." 
 
 For an instant he paused, awaiting some re- 
 sponse ; but it came not, and he continued : 
 " Do you suppose that I am blind to these 
 secrets ? No ! Not as much as you might 
 think. Have you not complained that I 
 watched you, and followed you, and spied upon 
 you ? Not one of your emotions has gone 
 unobserved by me. It has been some little 
 time, Jane, since I have known, since I have 
 known . . . Perhaps I have waited too long. 
 Perhaps it is now too late. But no ! you are 
 mine. I wish to protect you. I can save you." 
 237 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 He had a greater shrinking from threats of 
 violence than had she, and his tone changed to 
 one of entreaty. " Oh, Jane, have you not an 
 atom of pity for me? You loved me when 
 you first came to me? We have had happy 
 days together. Oh, the memory of those 
 blessed days, Jane ! do they not awaken some 
 kindly feeling in your heart ? As for me, they 
 recur to me without ceasing. You would have 
 me blot them out; but I cannot, I cannot. 
 I cannot live with this pain gnawing always at 
 my heart ; I cannot. You know not how I 
 love you." 
 
 She drew back a step, and her instinctive 
 act of repulsion smote him. " I desire that 
 you should know," he cried. " After all, my 
 wife, you are mine. I have rights over you ; 
 I alone have rights over you. I will not let 
 you go, I will not." 
 
 She drew back even more ; and, as a wrestler 
 profits by his antagonist's retreat to move for- 
 ward to a better position. Monsieur Naudie 
 followed her, feeling that she was weakening. 
 For the first time in his life he lost all control 
 of himself; he became a creature of instinct; 
 his blind wrath maddened him. And Jane, so 
 frail, so feeble, before his masculine strength, 
 perceived that only the greatest coolness and 
 238 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 self-control could avail to save her from his 
 vengeance. She rested her left hand on the 
 mantel, and said sweetly, as if she were dealing 
 with a fact long established, " You have known 
 only too well, my friend, all this which sepa- 
 rates us . . ." 
 
 He broke in, " Ah, take care ! " 
 "With a calm voice she asked, " Of what ? " 
 Her husband saw the full force of her simple 
 question, and his wrath flickered like a flame 
 half quenched by water. She perceived her 
 advantage, and at once took the offensive. 
 " Yes, of what ? " she repeated, in a tone of 
 scorn and sarcasm. "And have you, in your 
 turn, forgotten who you are ? Ah ! my friend, 
 you are a minister. Do you think now that 
 such an outburst as this is very becoming in 
 
 Monsieur Naudie changed countenance as 
 these words struck his ear. It was like the 
 triumphal return of a train of exiles, silencing 
 all sedition. They recalled him to reason, re- 
 flection, discretion. 
 
 Jane perceived her advantage, and her sar- 
 casm grew keener. "Whither do you think 
 this rage will lead you ? Tell me that ! You 
 know well that there must not be a scene, a 
 public spectacle. There are many things, my 
 239 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 friend, absolutely impossible for a man in your 
 position. I fancy myself reading in the daily 
 papers, 'A dreadful affair has taken place at 
 La Rochelle, Monsieur Naudie, a minister,' 
 etc., etc. . . . Remember that you stand on a 
 very slippery place, my friend 1 How would 
 you like such a scandal as that ? What do you 
 say to it ? " 
 
 Then she continued, in a calm, serious way, 
 as if giving wise counsel : " What you must do 
 is to remain faithful to your position, your pro- 
 fession, yourself There, now ! " And with 
 these words, she quietly passed out, leaving 
 him stupefied. 
 
 240 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 JANE'S plain, hard words put to flight the 
 last of Monsieur Naudie's illusions. Their 
 cruel frankness tore away all his hopefulness. 
 He saw his own heart clearly, and saw his fate. 
 He recognized his error. He saw that he was 
 now given over to the worst of certainties, be- 
 trayed and forsaken ; and the man who faced 
 this certainty, whose heart bled at the horrible 
 thought, was not at all a calm, wise father of a 
 family, careful of proprieties, bound down by 
 the cords of his profession, which would make 
 a public scandal seem more a disgrace than a 
 misfortune ; no, it was a man of flesh and 
 blood, who existed underneath the exterior gloss 
 of professional customs, and, of himself, was 
 able to rise up and throw off all these calami- 
 ties. But a swift review of the situation soon 
 brought him to face the real facts ; and he saw 
 that he could hope for little aid outside him- 
 self. How could he make a stand against the 
 daring spirit of his wife ? He could go away ? 
 He could leave La Rochelle? Alas ! She cer- 
 tainly would not follow him. How could he 
 keep her away from Henry Defos ? Could he 
 i6 241 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 resort to force ? That would only hasten the 
 dreaded outcome. Besides, he knew that his 
 vengeful hand would drop harmless, at the least 
 sign of tenderness from her. Infatuated through 
 and through, he was weak, as always those are 
 weak who love and are not loved in return. 
 Once more the old story of Samson found a 
 new application ; the champion of Israel fell 
 under the eyes of Delilah : "And she tormented 
 him day after day by her words, so that his soul 
 was afflicted even unto death." 
 
 So close was the resemblance, that he ven- 
 tured to refer to the old story, one Sunday, as 
 he was preaching upon that text from Proverbs : 
 "y/ virtuous woman is the crown of her hus- 
 band; but she who brings him to shame is as 
 rottenness in his bones." In a monotonous, 
 weary voice, with mechanical gestures, he urged 
 the lessons of good order and propriety. He 
 spoke of the beauty of family life, and of the 
 nobility of that affection which grows purer and 
 purer as the years pass, as wine grows sweeter 
 with age ; he spoke of the sanctity of conjugal 
 duties, shared equally, and softened by mutual 
 consideration. And, underneath this idyllic, 
 conventional picture of life, sketched thus by 
 him in gray outlines, moaned and groaned the 
 pent-up storm of sorrow in his own heart. 
 242 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 Several of his observant parishioners, whose 
 sharp eyes had detected trouble in his house- 
 hold, thought they could perceive many per- 
 sonal allusions, in the sermon. Worthy 
 Madame Dehodecq, simple soul, who always 
 took words in their plainest bearings, said, as 
 she was coming out of church, " Since Mon- 
 sieur Naudie has become so happy, his sermons 
 do me a lot more good." 
 
 There were others, however, who smiled 
 maliciously. " What a pretty picture he gave 
 us of a good Christian wife ! " said Monsieur 
 Lanthelme to Monsieur Merlin. " He has had 
 a good model to draw from." 
 
 The two walked along the arcade of the 
 Rue Minage. Presently Monsieur Lanthelme 
 stopped his companion, and, raising his eyes 
 toward a placard which was covered with let- 
 tering, he remarked, " Can you make out what 
 is written there ? " 
 
 "No ! " replied the notary. 
 
 " Ah, well, this is what it says : 
 ' Mieux vaut avoir sagesse 
 ^ue posseder richesse.' 
 
 A good idea, that ! Good for everybody ; 
 is n't it ! Indeed, for a minister it is four times 
 as good. Ours is in a fair way to gain some 
 experience." 
 
 243 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Thus the words and reflections of people 
 grew sharper and sharper. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie, however, was casting about 
 desperately for some means of resistance. At 
 one moment he entertained the idea of ask- 
 ing Henry Defos for a frank personal expla- 
 nation, but the violence of his own jealousy 
 blinded him to the real character of his rival. 
 Should he speak to Monsieur Defos ? That 
 would be to lay bare his wound before a 
 hard dry man, who doubtless would simply 
 shrug his shoulders and hold him up to scorn. 
 His own evil genius then led him to decide 
 upon the worst possible plan. He resolved 
 to confide in Madame Defos ; he fancied 
 that her maternal tenderness might be shocked, 
 but certainly she would give him good counsel. 
 
 Ah, if on that day when, with his forehead 
 wet with the sweat of anguish, he went to ask 
 of his " aunt " a confidential interview, if only 
 he could have seen inside that heavy stolid 
 figure who listened to him, he would have 
 drawn back in horror, stupefied, astounded, 
 at the inky gloom which gathers sometimes at 
 the bottom of such proper conventional souls, 
 when envy and avarice have entered there. 
 
 But Madame Defos's little colorless eyes 
 and her low flat forehead kept well their 
 244 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 secrets. Monsieur Naudie, like most people, 
 held her to be " an excellent woman." He 
 was naturally trustful. When he had once 
 broken the ice, he poured out, without reser- 
 vation, his anxieties and sorrows, barely re- 
 pressing the one most poignant of all, — his 
 betrayed love, his real anguish. He explained 
 that a serious problem had arisen in their 
 household. Doubtless neither her husband, 
 nor her other son, nor she herself had sus- 
 pected it. They had no idea of people's 
 malignity in putting the worst interpretation 
 on everything. Perhaps Henry himself had 
 too high an opinion of his own powers. 
 Perhaps he forgot that there is more wisdom 
 and courage in resisting outright a tempta- 
 tion, than in dallying with it. 
 
 After this fashion Monsieur Naudie tried 
 to keep his problem under cover of ordinary 
 conventionalities, and within the bounds of 
 the minor morals. Madame Defos listened, 
 without helping him by a word or a gesture ; 
 she heard his cry of pain, and the sound filled 
 her with an evil joy. She felt less and less 
 sympathy for him, after he had defeated her 
 plans, now that this new affection between Jane 
 and Henry had justifiied her shrewdness in fore- 
 casting it. To her, this man was only a robber 
 245 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 who had stolen from her ; he was an obstacle 
 in the path of her son's happiness. Others, 
 in her position, might have been satisfied ; 
 but she was not. Without looking for any 
 means of repairing the breach, without even 
 considering the possibility of finding any, she 
 rejoiced to see her evil scheme maturing, and 
 she found a fiendish pleasure in turning the 
 knife in the wound. 
 
 " Why don't you tell all these things to 
 Jane?" she asked. "Without any doubt the 
 dear child will understand." 
 
 The question made it necessary for him to 
 confess his futile efforts in this direction ; and 
 he recounted his fruitless entreaties, renewed 
 day after day, his repeated failures, after 
 which, he had come to her, as his last re- 
 source. " I have said everything to her that 
 could be said, everything which would be at 
 all likely to influence her ; and now, madame, 
 I have no other hope but you." 
 
 This despairing appeal made not the slightest 
 impression upon Madame Defos. " My son 
 is above all suspicion," she said coldly, after 
 a few moments' reflection. 
 
 " Doubtless," assented Monsieur Naudie, 
 " But for this once, don't you see how dan- 
 gerous this intimacy is ? " 
 246 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Madame Defos knew that even a slight 
 word of encouragement from her would be 
 enough to reawaken the hopefulness of a 
 trustful soul like this man's, so she was very 
 careful about speaking it. " However irre- 
 proachable a young man and young woman 
 may be," she said, " yet an intimacy, carried 
 very far, always holds elements of danger." 
 
 She distilled her words carefully, to make 
 them give out their full venomous effect. 
 
 " Here, of course, the danger is just so 
 much the greater in proportion as their natural 
 sympathies are keen ; greater according to 
 their natural fitness, the one for the other. 
 Certainly their ideas are much in harmony. 
 Besides, Henry realizes how much he is in- 
 debted to your dear wife ; he realizes that she 
 has saved his life by her devotion and affec- 
 tion. And what a field for gratitude such a 
 situation offers ! But these young people, my 
 dear friend, are well-bred and regardful of 
 proprieties ; remember that ! Oh, I think 
 you may be quite easy in your mind ! " 
 
 Each of these sentences lacerated his wounds, 
 so that, as he listened, he grew pale and ghastly. 
 Then he said, " Nevertheless, madame, do you 
 not see that despite the high esteem in which 
 I hold your son, and despite the confidence 
 247 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 which I have in my wife, I cannot, cannot 
 allow them to go on thus? Oh, I will take 
 my oath that I do not suspect either of 
 them of anything really evil. It is simply 
 this : that I see her agreeing with him in 
 his ideas, sympathizing with everything he 
 does, preferring to be with him rather than 
 with me. I and my children and my home 
 have no interest for her. She is as a stranger 
 in our midst. It is that which I wish to lay 
 before you, my dear madame, because it is 
 you alone, so far as I can see, who can have 
 any power over her. She has no mother. 
 To whom shall I go, if not to you, for 
 counsel and help ? " 
 
 Like those self-respecting poor people who 
 perish of hunger while asking for work. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie forced himself to conceal his 
 deepest distress. But his sad voice, his drawn 
 features, his attitude of utter humiliation, 
 these betrayed his real anxiety. And Madame 
 Defos saw it all clearly, and rolled it as a sweet 
 morsel under her tongue, this joy of torturing 
 a defenceless wounded foe. 
 
 " Advice, my dear sir," said she, reservedly, 
 
 " is very difficult to give in such delicate affairs 
 
 as these. Each person must act according to 
 
 his own ideas and feelings. As for any help 
 
 248 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 that I can give you, I really do not see what it 
 could be. What can I do?" 
 
 " You might . . . might speak to . . . your 
 son," said Monsieur Naudie, with much hesi- 
 tation. " Or . . . or to . . . your husband . . . 
 perhaps." 
 
 " Oh, to my husband ! These matters are 
 not in his line." 
 
 Then she appeared to hesitate. " Henry . . . 
 well, I might if . . . if you expressly desire it, 
 my dear friend ? " 
 
 " Do whatever you think is best ! " said 
 Monsieur Naudie, after a short pause. And he 
 went out, with one more arrow in his already 
 bleeding heart. 
 
 249 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SLACKENING the speed of their horses 
 to a walk, Henry and Jane turned to the 
 right and took the broad open road which 
 stretched away from La Pallice. They chose 
 this rather than the smaller, more picturesque 
 road which led along the shore; for, under the 
 dark canopy of the cloudy sky, the sea seemed 
 to exhale a sadness which depressed them. 
 There was a gloomy leaden tint upon the water, 
 and light mists hung over its surface, breaking 
 the black line of. the old dyke and tower, where 
 hung the bell which warned the sailors. In 
 the eyes of these two the sinister calm seemed 
 more threatening than an open storm. 
 
 Henry, who was very sensitive to the in- 
 fluences of physical nature, avoided this route, 
 although the ocean-view, even to-day, was not 
 without beauty. So they took the broad trav- 
 elled highway ; which was less beautiful to the 
 eye, but, with its many houses, on the one 
 side and the other, afforded a corrective to 
 the gloomy thoughts which would have been 
 deepened by the wide open spaces along the 
 shore. 
 
 250 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 From the moment when they set out, Henry 
 had something he wished to say, but the words 
 halted upon his lips. However, after they had 
 left the town behind them, and the road 
 stretched far away in front, he gathered up 
 his courage and said : " Our ride is not particu- 
 larly joyous ; we have had better ones. This 
 is perhaps the last one, too ; at least for a long 
 time." 
 
 With an involuntary movement of surprise, 
 Jane pulled up her horse, exclaiming, " The 
 last ? Why so ? " 
 
 With his gaze fixed upon the long gray line 
 of the highway before them, Henry said : 
 " My father wishes me to begin work at once, 
 and I have no sufficient reason for delaying 
 longer. This reading and sauntering and chat- 
 ting is all very well for an invalid, but I am now 
 well. Active life asserts its claims over me." 
 
 "But," said Jane, "you are surely not 
 going to enter the office simply as a salaried 
 clerk ? " 
 
 " My father expects a great deal of work 
 from me." 
 
 " Oh, I hoped you were not going to tie your- 
 self down as your brother does. In his case, 
 of course, it is all very well ; he is cut out for 
 that sort of thing ; but you ..." 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 The word " you " thrilled with admiration. 
 Henry answered sadly, " As for me, I must 
 adapt myself to my new duties'." 
 
 She replied immediately, " I hope this will 
 not affect our relations ? " 
 
 He did not echo these friendly, hopeful 
 words. The thing which he wished to say 
 was more than ever difficult. After a few 
 moments' silence, during which he leaned 
 over and scanned the feet of the horses, as 
 they pattered upon the hard dry road, he con- 
 tinued, without lifting his eyes : " I have not 
 told you all, cousin. My father — you 
 know him, you know how strict and exact- 
 ing he is — my father fears that our friend- 
 ship, if it goes on, will lead to public talk. 
 Doubtless some unkind words have already 
 come to his ears. You know that we live here 
 in a small town ; and, with your free English 
 habits of life, you have no idea how rigid and 
 conventional our customs are." 
 
 Jane's forehead began to wrinkle with vexa- 
 tion. Could she then never have a little affair 
 with anybody except weaklings and poltroons ? 
 
 " And you think, then," she exclaimed, with 
 a charming gesture of defiance, " that we ought 
 to pay attention to the tittle-tattle of these 
 stupid people ? " 
 
 252 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 "Ah, but what if we give them grounds 
 for it?" 
 
 " What is it to them ? " 
 
 " But they are not the only ones who 
 threaten to break off our friendship, Jane. 
 Your husband himself has taken alarm. He has 
 conferred with my mother, who has reported 
 his words to me." 
 
 " He ! the idea ! " And Jane's eyes burned 
 fiercely with hatred. Then she repeated, 
 " He ! he ! Why, you know well what he is 
 to me." 
 
 Henry replied gravely, "He is your hus- 
 band, Jane, and you are his wife." 
 
 A carriage, which now came up at a rapid 
 pace, proved to be the equipage of Monsieur 
 Dehodecq; and he and Madame Dehodecq 
 occupied it. There was only time for a hasty 
 greeting, and the vehicle was gone ; but not 
 before Henry noted the quick scrutiny of 
 watchful eyes, and fancied some such words 
 as these between the two persons in the car- 
 riage : " Together again ! They are relatives. 
 All right! Monsieur Naudie is very patient." 
 
 This meeting had broken off the thread of 
 Henry's remarks. But he began again, a lit- 
 tle farther on, as if no break had occurred ; 
 " Doubtless the speeches of evil-minded people 
 253 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 have little weight ; but one must remember 
 what pain they sometimes cause. I never let 
 myself be stopped in any right path by out- 
 side barriers ; but there are barriers more for- 
 midable, those which are within. You have 
 saved my life, Jane ; so they tell me ; and 
 I have found such sweet pleasure in your 
 society. Oh how swiftly these weeks of conva- 
 lescence have sped away ! Each day has 
 brought us into closer sympathy. . My 
 strength, as it has come back to me, has only 
 made me feel more keenly the joy of your 
 presence, the joy of seeing you again after you 
 have left me. Somiething strange and wonder- 
 ful is unfolding within me. You know my 
 situation well enough to understand how 
 entirely alone I am in the world. Even my 
 mother, who loves me dearly, is very different 
 from me. Yet, up to the time of my sickness, 
 I had hardly realized how great her love was. 
 In that old house, where I was born, I never 
 knew the joy of reading, in another's heart, the 
 thoughts which deeply stirred my own ; rather, 
 I should say, never did I know that joy until 
 I met you. Oh, Jane, I have given myself up 
 to this joy all too freely ; I have been unmindful 
 of the voices of calumny, which should have 
 warned me. They are cruel, but I am glad I 
 254 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 have heard them ; these evil-minded people 
 have had some reason for their talk, too 
 much reason, and it seems to me best to give 
 up our dear, delightful interviews." 
 
 Then, speaking in a lower tone, he added, 
 " Perhaps I even ought to go away for a long 
 time." 
 
 Jane at once broke out : " Go away ? You ? 
 I will not have it so." 
 
 He understood perfectly the meaning of her 
 imperious exclamation ; and he quivered, intox- 
 icated, in spite of himself, with the bliss and the 
 unwonted pride of being loved. Around them 
 gathered the fog, and they rode forward into a 
 dense vapor which shut out the objects around 
 them; they seemed to each other like ghosts 
 moving on through the mist. 
 
 " As for me," continued Jane, " I also am 
 lonely and sad. You will do me the justice of 
 admitting that I have never complained. Now 
 listen to me ! I am a stranger at that fireside, 
 which I foolishly sought, with all the wilfiil heed- 
 lessness of my twenty years. Oh, Henry, is it 
 my fault ? I don't know. But they don't love 
 me, they hate me. Yes, even the children 
 hate me. Why ? Never mind ! They hate 
 me ; that is enough. And I suffer. I have 
 only you ; and now you wish to leave me." 
 255 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Very seriously and carefully he replied, after 
 a considerable pause : " I wish it now, Jane, 
 more than ever. After what I have said to 
 you, and after this response which you have 
 made, do you not see that a separation is neces- 
 sary for us ? I need you very much, Jane, 
 and you, perhaps, need me ; the parting will 
 demand all our courage. It will cost us much 
 pain, and it will seem very grievous to us to- 
 day ; but on the morrow . . ." 
 
 She did not at once reply. Her small soul 
 could not climb so high ; Henry's words 
 clashed and resounded in her heart, and they 
 wounded her self-love. Finally she said : " The 
 morrow? I don't know anything about the 
 morrow. I know only that I shall be sorrow- 
 ful without you. Is n't that enough to keep 
 you from going away ? " 
 
 All that Jane had been saying had been 
 translated by Henry into terms of his own 
 illusions. " Oh, dear pure heart that you 
 are ! " exclaimed he. " As for me, during 
 these happy days I have explored the depths 
 of my heart ; I have seen what it sought, and 
 sought with eagerness and even with mad- 
 ness. And then, I took note of the path 
 upon which we were entering ; I have found 
 there the little real life I have ever known. 
 256 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 In this way I have come to undefstand how 
 much I love you." 
 
 She trembled, as he spoke. The avowal 
 had come. Theti Hettry went on : " It is in 
 this way that I have been led to believe that 
 our parting must be. Only thus can I pay to 
 you the debt I owe ; for I love you so much 
 that I wish not even a breath of Suspicion to 
 rest upon you. I wish you to be surrounded 
 by the same purity of atmosphere which already 
 exists in your soul." 
 
 As she listened to him, Jane found him weak 
 and cowardly. She was one who could say 
 boldly, " I do whatever I wish to do." But 
 he was so tender, withal, so genuinely over- 
 whelmed with his passion, that she felt like 
 forgiving him for deceiving himself with regard 
 to her. 
 
 " A Christian ? " she Calmly remarked. 
 
 " Perhaps so ! " he replied quickly. " Per- 
 haps a Christian who holds no longer to the 
 faith, but cherishes the same ideal. I do not 
 believe any longer in Christ, as you know. I 
 do believe, howevet, in the lofty character of 
 his teachings, and in the light which shot from 
 him across the world. I believe, too, in the 
 supreme value of self-sacrifice ; this faith is in 
 my very blood ; it is inherited from my ances- 
 17 257 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tors. It is your faith also ; for it belongs to 
 all souls who maintain in their lives purity and 
 nobility. It is because I do not wish to bruise 
 or deface it, that I say this to you. You and I 
 cannot break the tie which unites our hearts. 
 So let us strive, with sincerity and courage . . ." 
 They turned about. Lights began to appear, 
 dimly visible through the fog. Red gleams 
 shone forth from the windows of the first 
 houses. Without being able to distinguish the 
 dripping outlines of the park and fortifications, 
 they found themselves re-entering the town. 
 Enveloped as they were in mist, they avoided 
 the gaze of any scrutinizing eyes. But surely 
 there were some attentive ears listening for the 
 familiar sound of their horses' hoofs. A vague 
 sense of mystery kept them silent. Each 
 fancied that he could hear the heart-beats of the 
 other, because each could hear his own. Al- 
 though the voices of their souls were really 
 more inharmonious, the one with the other, 
 than the violins of a discordant orchestra, yet 
 Henry obstinately cherished the delusion that 
 they were in closest sympathy. They rode by 
 the inscription which was over the Defos gate- 
 way, dim in the fog of the evening, " Omnia 
 bene, Deo juvante." Then they stopped, a few 
 doors farther along. A porter opened the gate. 
 258 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Now had come the moment of parting. And 
 Jane said: "We have not yet said all that 
 should be said. I must see you again. Don't 
 go away ! Come to-morrow ! " 
 
 He replied, " I shall go." 
 
 And she reflected, " He loves me ; he will 
 not go." 
 
 259 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AS soon as the bell announced Jane's return, 
 Monsieur Naudie appeared on the 
 porch. She took no notice of the fact that his 
 eyes were filled with tears. She passed by him, 
 giving him merely a formal greeting. He fol- 
 lowed her to her room. She was in a state of 
 irritation, and was about to upbraid him for his 
 visit to Madame Defos, for his jealousy, and 
 for his suspicions. But before she could begin, 
 he handed her an open letter, saying, " My 
 father is very ill ; he may possibly die. Read 
 what my sister has written me ! " 
 
 She took the paper, which was in Angelica's 
 handwriting, and glanced through it. There 
 were four pages regarding the old man's illness, 
 which had now lasted several days, and was in- 
 creasing. There were in it various devout 
 phrases about the goodness of God, and the 
 trust which must be placed in him, even though 
 he sent heavy trials to his children. The 
 brothers and sisters had all been notified. 
 Those who could come, would doubtless do so. 
 They counted especially upon Simeon, who, 
 with William, was close to the father's heart. 
 260 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Even from afar the sight of Death and his 
 inexorable work softens our animosities. Jane 
 was affected by the news ; and she could re- 
 call two interviews which she had had with the 
 patriarch, and she remembered his grand pres- 
 ence, his imperial manner, his thoughtful brow, 
 and the dignity of his long, eventful, honorable 
 life. " You will go ? " she asked. 
 
 " Certainly. Will you not go with me ? " 
 
 This simple question dissipated Jane's ten- 
 derer feelings. For, with her selfish nature, 
 she had at once begun to balance the danger of 
 missing Henry against the exigencies of this 
 new duty. " It seems to me," said she, " that 
 you would do better to take the children along, 
 especially the older ones. As for me, neither 
 your father nor your sister is really much ac- 
 quainted with me. I cannot believe that my 
 presence there would be of much account. At 
 such times one desires to see about him only 
 the most familiar faces." 
 
 She spoke sweetly, as one instinctively speaks 
 to those in sorrow. Her voice even took on 
 an accent of pity, which mitigated somewhat 
 the harshness of her refusal. Overcome, as he 
 was, by his grief. Monsieur Naudie did not 
 feel like urging his request. 
 
 " Just as you wish," he replied. " I will go, 
 261 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 then, to-morrow morning; and I will take Esther 
 and Bertha with me." But, scarcely was he 
 again alone, when the real sense of Jane's re- 
 fusal, sweetly as it had been expressed, came 
 over him. "After all," he repeated, " how can 
 she have for me more than the most common- 
 place pity ! She has never expressed one word 
 of affection for my father, who, on the day of 
 our marriage, seemed to renew his youth in 
 his admiration for her. Instead of mourning 
 with me, she very likely is glad at my depart- 
 ure, knowing that it will free her for a time 
 from my surveillance. After I have gone, 
 there will be no barrier whatever to restrain 
 them. They will be wholly without restraint. 
 That is what she desires." 
 
 Such were the reflections which came to him, 
 with his heart aching. During the dinner, 
 which came a little later, he scanned Jane's 
 countenance, looking for some sign of favorable 
 compassionate feeling. He was as sad as though 
 already the days of mourning for his father had 
 begun ; but on her face he could see no sign 
 of tenderness. How could he expect to read 
 the thoughts which were hidden behind that 
 beautiful impassive face, or in those marvellous 
 eyes, which could, on occasion, shut out inquiry 
 like closed windows. In this respect she much 
 262 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 resembled Esther. They both remained silent; 
 the few words they spoke had almost the same 
 accent. In order to break the silence, some- 
 thing was said about dying. Esther recalled 
 her last visit to her grandfather ; Jane mur- 
 mured a few words on the same subject. Then 
 Monsieur Naudie said : " If God takes him 
 from us, it may well be said that he fought a 
 good fight, like a brave soldier. Only last 
 month the ' Christian Review ' published an 
 article of his, ' Some Reflections upon the Real 
 Apology.' There were pages in that article full 
 of the noblest spirit. It was a powerful state- 
 ment, adjusting the defence of Christianity to 
 the real demands of conscience. Monsieur 
 Fridolin said to me, ' Your father writes like a 
 young man.' Oh, my poor dear father ! " 
 
 A tear rolled slowly down his cheek into his 
 beard. He looked around him, at his chil- 
 dren, bound together with himself into a little 
 circle of sorrow. Then his gaze fell, in par- 
 ticular, upon Zelia, with her eyes full of sym- 
 pathy, and yet, in all her wealth of naive 
 compassion, so ignorant of real grief Greatly 
 moved, he ventured to call her to him, and 
 took her upon his knees. As he caressed her 
 soft hair, he cast a furtive glance at Jane, who 
 always had taken offence if he showed any atten- 
 263 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 tions to his little girl ; but now she made no 
 sign, and sat in entire indiflference. " She does 
 not love me even enough to be jealous of these 
 caresses," said he to himself. " She must go 
 away from me, far away from here." 
 
 The children now left the dining-room. As 
 Jane followed them. Monsieur Naudie called 
 her back. " I have thought it all over," he 
 said, " and it seems to me best that you go with 
 us. My father loved you ; and do you not re- 
 call the friendliness which my sister has shown 
 toward you ? My poor sister ! Your absence 
 would lead to misunderstandings." 
 
 Jane had been making all sorts of plans, in 
 her own mind, " I am inclined to think that 
 my presence, rather than my absence, is what 
 leads to misunderstandings," she said coolly. 
 
 " But at such times as this, there is need of 
 everybody's affection and sympathy," 
 
 The young woman seemed to hesitate, either 
 from fear of showing too little concern in the 
 matter, or because she was really touched, 
 despite her selfishness, by the grief of the fam- 
 ily. Sometimes, in crises of misfortune, even 
 the hardest and dryest souls seem to soften ; 
 but her hesitation was brief; her selfishness 
 swept her away. " Perhaps his sickness is not 
 as serious as you think," she urged. "Your 
 264 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 sister would have telegraphed. You see she 
 only sent a letter. There is no pressing 
 danger." 
 
 " Do you mean that there is no need of my 
 going ? " 
 
 " I did not say that." 
 
 " Then why do you urge me to wait ? " 
 
 " I mean, simply, that the case is not serious 
 enough to warrant you all in going to Mon- 
 tauban, thus running a risk of frightening the 
 sick man. You could go, and then I could 
 join you later if it is best to do so." 
 
 Then she addedj having in mind no remoter 
 point of time than the following day, " I will 
 make ready for the journey, if you advise it." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was pacified once more 
 by this half-concession. But in the night all 
 his anxiety burst out anew. He went over 
 again the events of the past few weeks. The 
 facts took on a new meaning, the wrong seemed 
 more serious than ever, and the danger seemed 
 more pressing. At the same time, these latest 
 suggestions of Jane, although he could divine 
 their real source, agreed closely with his own 
 theory. Still following his evil genius, he said 
 to himself that very probably his father was 
 not as ill as reported ; and he soon quite per- 
 suaded himself of this ; while through all his 
 265 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 reflections ran the keen prescience of this other 
 very different peril, menacing him in his own 
 home. Once before, he remembered, a letter 
 from Angelica had called him to Montauban ; 
 and after he had hurried anxiously to see his 
 father, he had found him In the garden trim- 
 ming his rose-bushes. Perhaps this would be 
 a similar case. Moreover, if he went away from 
 Jane, what might she not do, — she whom 
 he felt it his duty to protect, even against 
 herself? 
 
 So he did not go. In the morning, when 
 Jane met him, she exclaimed, " How now ! 
 You are still here ? " 
 
 "I am in some pain," he explained. "Dur- 
 ing the night I was feverish. I am going, 
 now, to send a telegram and ask for the latest 
 news." 
 
 " You must be carefiil ! Your father has 
 reached an age when sometimes . . ." 
 
 He quickly interrupted : " But it is you 
 who assured me that I was over-anxious, and 
 now you seem eager to hasten my going." 
 
 " Have it as you will ! Each must act ac- 
 cording to his own feelings." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie delayed starting. Jane, 
 after thus allaying somewhat her husband's 
 anxiety, did not dare leave the house. She 
 266 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 ventured, however, to send a note to Madame 
 Defos, to inform her about the condition of 
 affairs. Toward the end of the afternoon 
 Henry came over to learn if there were any 
 later news. While he waited a telegram came. 
 Three words only, vague, indefinite, leaving 
 the field open for the worst possible fears. 
 "Condition the same." 
 
 "You will decide to go, I suppose," said 
 Henry to Monsieur Naudie. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie took this as an artful sug- 
 gestion on the young man's part ; and, out of 
 the anger and hate which burned in his heart, 
 he answered sharply : " No ! Not to-night ! 
 To-morrow we will see about it." 
 
 " At least," suggested Jane, " you will tele- 
 graph again? " 
 
 " Perhaps so ! Presently ! " 
 
 He did not go out until after Henry had 
 departed. Then he went to send off another 
 despatch : " Impossible to come just now. 
 Send particulars ! " 
 
 A letter came, the next morning, but gave 
 no new details. Angelica wrote about the 
 symptoms of the disease : " frequent coughing, 
 fever, cold perspiration, gradual weakening of 
 the body." She also quoted the latest opinion 
 of the physicians : " His condition is unques- 
 267 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 tionably very serious ; but, owing to his excel- 
 lent general health, there is still hope." After 
 having added these words, vague and confiised, 
 like most human science, she wrote the follow- 
 ing : " William has been here since morning ; 
 Paul sends word that he will soon arrive. 
 The others have not yet been heard from. 
 But you are the one, dear brother, whom I 
 most wish to see ; you know how much our 
 father has thought of you ; he often speaks 
 about you, and recalls your goodness. In his 
 delirium he often speaks your name and your 
 dear wife's. For my own part, I long to have 
 you near me, because you always understand 
 me so well. Come, then, as soon as you can ! 
 I will tell you frankly that I put very little con- 
 fidence in the hopes held out by the physi- 
 cians. Something tells me that our dear father 
 is fast approaching his end, and I often weep 
 over it. However, it is all for the best ; it is 
 right for him to go ; like the good servant, he 
 has finished his work. The Master will have 
 no reason to reprove him. But what a loss 
 to us and to the church ! As for me, I 
 have lived under his protection like a weak 
 little plant dwelling at the foot of a mighty 
 tree. What emptiness of life I foresee for 
 myself, when he who has filled it so full shall 
 268 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 have gone away ! What will become of me 
 when I can no longer hear his voice ! Ah, 
 how hard it will be for me to feel resigned ! I 
 shall need all your help to enable me to say 
 * The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken 
 away. Blessed be the name of the Lord ! ' Alas, 
 the greater the gifts which he gives us, the 
 harder it is to have them taken away. Still, it 
 will be a sad yet tender consolation for us to 
 remember how noble and grand a man was our 
 beloved father." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie read this letter, in a clear 
 voice. The children ranged themselves about 
 him, affected, according to their ages and tem- 
 peraments, by the suggestions of mortality 
 which rang through the pages, silenced by the 
 shadow of death which they felt to be hover- 
 ing over their grandfather, — that grandfather 
 whom they heard mentioned as a sort of 
 prophet, and whom they recalled, in their 
 minds, as very grand and smiling and beau* 
 tiful. Jane was more repressed ; she sat alone, 
 with bowed head, leaning her chin upon her 
 hand, and with her eyes closed, as if to con- 
 ceal any unsympathetic thoughts. She opened 
 her eyes again, when she heard her husband's 
 voice break, over that last phrase ; and, as he 
 glanced at her, he believed that he read in 
 269 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 her face words like these : " Now, surely, he 
 will go." 
 
 This seemed to open afresh the wounds in 
 his heart, and to make them bleed anew. He 
 recognized that here, in his own household, was 
 a more terrible sorrow than the grief of a son 
 for his dying father. The envenomed dagger 
 seemed to pierce his heart deeper than ever. 
 
 Esther, always undemonstrative, wept in 
 silence. Presently she said, " I think we would 
 best go this evening." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie knew that he could not 
 go, but he hardly cared to admit it. He re- 
 plied, " In any case, we will hold ourselves 
 ready." 
 
 Meanwhile, the news of Abraham Naudie's 
 illness spread through the town. Every per- 
 son in this Protestant community was much 
 concerned about it. He was known to them 
 not only because of his fame as a Father of 
 the Church, and as a powerful thinker, before 
 whom all antagonists bowed ; but as well they 
 thought of him as a legendary and heroic fig- 
 ure, such as they associated with the historic 
 points in their own town, reminding them of 
 the old days of war and glory, before these 
 modern days of ease and indifi^erence had come 
 in. Many of them who had never read his 
 270 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 voluminous works were yet acquainted with 
 their general character ; and some persons could 
 repeat a few pregnant phrases, which summed 
 up his principal theories : " The Christian 
 spirit consists in finding joy in giving one's 
 self in sacrifice." Or this : " The first point 
 is, to make people understand that the moral 
 law is rigorously obligatory." Most people 
 saw, more or less clearly, that with the death 
 of this man, who had won such victories for 
 the faith, an epoch was drawing to a close ; 
 and that a successor would be hard to find, 
 one who could lift on high the banner after it 
 fell from his hand. 
 
 Thus there was a steady stream of visitors 
 flowing into the Rue Reaumur ; among others. 
 Monsieur Dehodecq, Monsieur Merlin, Mon- 
 sieur Fridolin, and even Monsieur Lanthelme, 
 who clung to that remnant of his ancestral 
 faith which really existed underneath his os- 
 tentatious parade of atheism. As these men 
 were going out, he said to Monsieur Merlin, 
 with one of those expressive shrugs which 
 usually accompanied his humorous fancies : 
 " The Creator does n't realize what he is go- 
 ing to lose in Abraham Naudie. Now he will 
 have left, to defend him, only those who do 
 not believe in him." 
 
 271 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 All the visitors to the house drew the same 
 inference, namely, that inasmuch as the pastor 
 had not set forth at once to go to his father, 
 there could not be imminent danger. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie himself rather encouraged this 
 view ; despite the voice within him, which con- 
 tradicted him, he replied to inquiries, " Yes, 
 my sister's letters give us room for much 
 hope." Then he added, " But we are quite 
 ready, and can start at a moment's notice." 
 
 Every time that the door-bell rang, Mon^ 
 sieur Naudie trembled; for he knew that he 
 was partially deceiving these callers, in order to 
 deceive himself. Sometimes, as he was utter- 
 ing his reassuring remarks, he heard the house- 
 maid's steps in the hall, and with a shudder 
 he reflected, " Perhaps it is the telegram, the 
 telegram ; " and his anxiety almost stifled him. 
 
 His children were a greater care to him than 
 were these outside people. Their senses were 
 quickened by the excitement about them, and 
 they observed, and reflected, and formed opin- 
 ions. Esther, more serious than ever, seemed 
 to him a living reproach. There she was, full 
 of compassion for a sorrow which she perceived 
 without being able to understand ; she was rea- 
 soning continually about the matter, and had 
 almost reached the point where she would say, 
 272 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " My father has a plain duty, and he is putting 
 it aside." 
 
 The others were following in much the same 
 line of reflection, though not, perhaps, as con- 
 sciously as she. Indeed, Monsieur Naudie 
 overheard, between his son Abraham and Ber- 
 tha, this fragment of a colloquy : " Oh, yes ! 
 He 's going to die, you know," remarked 
 Abraham, with an air of utter nonchalance. 
 "Sure! he's so old." 
 
 Bertha's forehead grew furrowed, as she re- 
 plied, " You think so ? Then why does n't 
 papa go ? " 
 
 Abraham, with the grimace and gesture of a 
 street Arab, explained, " It 's because of her ; 
 that's why." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie was but little like his 
 former self. Calm, self-composed man that he 
 had been, walking serenely amon^ the shocks 
 and perplexities of life, he now betrayed the 
 unsettled state of his heart by his nervous 
 tones and actions. Seeing him in this state, 
 Jane softened a little in her manner toward 
 him, fearful of what he might be goaded into. 
 And truly there was cause for fear concerning 
 this man, who was being undermined by a 
 double current of griefs ; who, for perhaps the 
 first time in his life, was standing out against 
 
 i8 273 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 his conscience, while an insistent voice of affec- 
 tion in his heart was condemning him for his 
 negligence and cowardice. 
 
 Two long days passed in this way. There 
 was nothing really new. Angelica's telegrams 
 contained nothing definite. " Condition the 
 same," she reported, using exactly the same 
 words. But Monsieur Naudie had seen similar 
 cases, and knew well that, in the case of so old 
 a man, death would very like come in this way, 
 by slow, sure steps. 
 
 One or another of the Defos family came 
 over frequently. Sometimes Jane went over 
 there, under pretext of carrying them the news, 
 and without daring to remain long. Her hus- 
 band made no effort to prevent her going. 
 Neither to her nor to any one had he spoken 
 frankly about the source of his greatest anxiety. 
 On the fourth day, in the evening, when her 
 absence was longer than usual, he, in his turn, 
 went out, — not to follow her, or to spy upon 
 her, but, rather, to avoid the pain of meeting 
 her as she returned. Instead of ascending the 
 street toward the Defos mansion, he went down 
 toward the shore. He walked rapidly, with 
 his hands plunged into his overcoat pockets, 
 without having any especial goal in view. In a 
 short time he found himself upon the path 
 274 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 near the beach, back of the row of trees that 
 bordered the mall. The tide had gone out, 
 and the sea moaned slightly in the distance. 
 The place was like a desert, flooded by 
 the moonlight, which illumined the sand on 
 the beach and glimmered on the pools left 
 by the ebbing tide. Here and there, scattered 
 about, lay mounds of mud, like oases in this 
 desert, showing black and gloomy, despite the 
 bright moonlight. Dimly outlined, the distant 
 wharves closed in the scene, and were merged, 
 above, in the shadowy gray tones of the sky. 
 The outline of the Richelieu tower seemed to 
 waver, like a flame flickering to its close ; and, 
 at intervals, the lighthouses on the island of 
 Re shot out their gleams like flashes of light- 
 ning. Standing erect upon this path. Monsieur 
 Naudie filled his eyes with the shadowy scene 
 where darkness and light were strangely min- 
 gled, and drew into his lungs the heavy salt 
 air coming in from the broad expanse of the 
 ocean. Suddenly he saw a couple advance 
 into the moonlight, gliding noiselessly along 
 like phantoms. They drew nearer, until they 
 were directly in front of him, when they stopped 
 short. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie recognized them, and 
 moved toward them. 
 
 27s 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Ah, it is you ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Jane immediately answered, " I was in need 
 of a little exercise, and I asked my cousin to 
 walk with me." 
 
 Innocent as he was, Henry perceived that he 
 had put himself under grave suspicion ; and 
 his heart became a prey to confused emotions. 
 In the presence of this man, her husband, a 
 man who stood for propriety and law and 
 established customs, he saw in advance that he 
 was in the position of a detected criminal ; and 
 he bowed his head, without daring to defy him, 
 and without the power to deceive him. 
 
 "Well, then," said Monsieur Naudie, "I 
 think you may as well finish your walk with 
 me. Come ! " 
 
 He spoke with such authority that Jane 
 dtopped Henry's arm at once, in order to take 
 her husband's. For the first time she was 
 afi-aid of him. Hers was a physical fear in the 
 presence of superior force, and the fear of a 
 culprit standing before a judge. Her hand 
 trembled as he held it firmly beneath his 
 arm. 
 
 They went back to the house, nothing being 
 
 said. Henry followed. Monsieur Naudie 
 
 set a rapid pace, for he was greatly agitated, 
 
 and he was revolving in his mind what he 
 
 276 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 would say when they were alone, in that house 
 already full of mourning. There would be en- 
 treaties again. There would be the plain, hard 
 speech of a master. How the sharp reproofs 
 and commands would burst forth, when once 
 they had crossed that threshold ! 
 
 The three reached the gateway, which opened 
 to them. Monsieur Naudie thrust Jane in 
 before him. She had barely time to cast one 
 look of distress at Henry, who stood motion- 
 less, powerless, despairing, outside the closed 
 gate. At the sound of the gate, violently 
 closed, Esther appeared on the porch. She 
 held a telegram in her hand. " Father," said 
 she, " the news is much worse." 
 
 Like a helpless waif which a powerful wave 
 seizes as a weaker wave gives it up, Monsieur 
 Naudie felt his strength forsake him, and his 
 anger vanish away. " Dead ? " he asked, with 
 a cry of touching distress. 
 
 " No ! Listen ! ' Father has asked for 
 you. Come ! ' " 
 
 " We have time enough to catch the mid- 
 night express," he exclaimed. " Let us go ! " 
 
 He gave no further attention to Jane, who 
 
 at once disappeared. He had only one idea 
 
 now. He could think only of the father who 
 
 had called him, who might die without see- 
 
 277 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 ing that son at his bedside, that father for- 
 saken by him in his supreme hour of need, 
 that father against whom he might perhaps 
 be committing, by his neglect, the most irrep- 
 arable of sins, since the victim could never, in 
 this world, speak words of forgiveness. 
 
 278 
 
PART FOURTH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MONSIEUR NAUDIE and his eldest 
 daughter were seated in the night- 
 express ; they were opposite each other, and 
 remained a long time without speaking. When- 
 ever his eyes encountered hers, he saw in 
 them pity mingled with reproaches. He 
 averted his gaze, but in vain. The words of 
 reproof which he sought to avoid seemed to 
 come to him out of his own heart. Gradually, 
 however, he grew calmer. Certain recollec- 
 tions of his childhood rose before him, and 
 served to divert his thoughts ; yet even these 
 memories revolved about the grand figure of 
 his noble father. He recalled his smiles, ges- 
 tures, words, — those words, so eloquent and 
 trenchant, which the old professor could use 
 with such skill and effect. Sometimes those re- 
 marks fell from him, as he sat in his professo- 
 rial chair, and they bewildered the young heads 
 about him ; or, again, they were uttered in the 
 279 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 bosom of his family, and then they were always 
 tempered by a charming tenderness. Oh, what 
 gay times there had been at the great table, 
 when the mother was there to keep order ! 
 And how observant she always was of her 
 illustrious husband, himself a child of genius ! 
 At dessert, if the occasion was at all favorable, 
 he often scattered around him a handfiil of 
 rhymes, — good old verses, taken, perhaps, from 
 Beranger, with a refrain at the end of each 
 stanza. Sometimes he interspersed snatches of 
 drinking-songs ; for Abraham Naudie dearly 
 loved the good red wines of his native land, 
 "which," said he, "are generous, aromatic, and 
 sparkling, and help bring joy and gladness." 
 
 " Le vin de France^ amis, a Fame bonne, 
 Le vin de France est un homme de Men." 
 
 As he recalled these lines, Monsieur Naudie 
 remembered also some of his father's bright 
 sayings, and he could not resist the inclination 
 to lean over and speak of them to Esther. 
 " Nobody ever saw a man as good and genuine 
 as he was. Those who never met him pictured 
 him as an unsympathetic, self-absorbed thinker 
 and pedant. How mistaken was such a notion ! 
 He loved everything that was good or beauti- 
 ful, with all his soul. Do you know what he 
 280 
 
Pastar Naudi6's Young Wife 
 
 said to me, the last time I saw him ? He said, 
 'I would like, before I die, to write a little 
 treatise on wine-making; and it shall not be, 
 by any means, my poorest piece of work, for 
 I have never tasted a gkss of good wine that I 
 have not remembered it with pleasure.' There 
 yov have him ! The plain, honest, kindly 
 man. So human ! " 
 
 The young girl did not clearly comprehend 
 her father's meaning ; and she said simply, " I 
 have greatly longed to see him, and to know 
 hijn better." 
 
 " Such is life. People fritter away hours and 
 days over trifles, and the hours and days pass, 
 and can never be recalled." 
 
 Again there was silence ; the fast train made 
 few and brief stops. Esther grew drowsy. 
 Monsieur Naudie became more and more rest- 
 less and excited. Certain prayers welled up 
 from his soul. He murmured them in a low, 
 soft voice, and they were lost in the night. 
 "O God, I pray thee, grant that I see my 
 dear father once more, and that he recognize 
 me! I know well that in my blindness I 
 have neglected the most sacred of duties, my 
 duty toward him, in his old age. Oh, grant that 
 he may forgave me ! Afterward, I will be 
 patient and resigned, and will bear whatever 
 281 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 trials thou shalt send me ; and I will suppress 
 the complaints of my wounded heart, the cries 
 of my tortured soul. I will put away from 
 me all that is base and mean. With thy aid, 
 O God, I will become again thy faithful, hum- 
 ble servant. I will consecrate all my powers 
 to thee alone. I will love thee, as I ought, 
 more than all else. • . ." 
 
 As he said these words, he recalled the 
 photograph of the Italian singer, which he had 
 once seen in Jane's hands, and the quotation 
 written under it, Vorrei poteri dar quel po che 
 resta. 
 
 With a shudder he exclaimed, "The little 
 that remains ! the little that remains ! " He 
 felt that he was offering to his God only the 
 few fragments of affection which still remained 
 in his empty heart. 
 
 Presendy, however, this mood passed, and 
 a more exalted mood took its place ; and he 
 went on with his prayer, where it had been 
 interrupted by that hateful memory of the 
 past. " O God, give me back all my strength, 
 and set my feet in the right path, and help me 
 to walk in it ! Whatever sacrifices thou mayest 
 ask of me, oh, I will make them readily. 
 Even my father, even he whom thou art 
 calling up to thy better kingdom, even he 
 282 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 departed sometimes from thy ways. He has 
 had his trials of the spirit, even as I have my 
 trials of the heart. But it is in thee that he 
 will sink to sleep, having finished his work, 
 like a faithful servant. Oh, may thy presence 
 strengthen my will, as it has often strengthened 
 his ! Oh, may I never forget, even in my 
 sorest trials, that I am thine, as he did not 
 forget his duty to thee, amid his highest flights 
 of thought ! O God, may I find peace in thee 
 for my troubled heart ! Give me this ! Give 
 me a pure heart ! Give me poverty, and the 
 simple duties and cares which were once mine, 
 which did not draw me from thee, which did 
 not embitter my soul ! Give me that calm 
 which was mine, ere this storm broke over me, 
 — that calm spirit which is promised to thy 
 faithful servants ! " 
 
 As they drew near their journey's end, in 
 the early morning, Esther noticed tears in her 
 father's eyes. She seated herself beside him, in 
 the carriage, and drew him toward her with 
 that instinct of maternal feeling which so often 
 had comforted her little sisters. " Poor papa ! " 
 she murmured, with accents of sympathy. 
 
 " Esther, dear," said he, " do you think I 
 shall see him once more ? " 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 283 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 This kindly, trastfiil word raised his spirits 
 again, until he felt in key with the calm of the 
 beautiful new day ; and the glorious light which 
 bathed the hills and plains, seemed to bathe 
 also his soul. But when the dim outlines of 
 Montauban came into view, his fear returned 
 to him ; and this fear grew upon him, minute 
 by minute, as the train slackened speed. In- 
 deed, he felt almost stifled, as he descended 
 from the compartment of tbe train, and, afar 
 oiF, saw William's tall figure upon the plat- 
 form. 
 
 " How is he ? " was his first question. 
 
 " He is alive." 
 
 *' Thank God for that!" 
 
 " But I don't feel sure that he will be able 
 to recognize you." 
 
 " There is, then, but little hope ? " 
 
 "The physicians think that he will hardly 
 live through to-night." 
 
 " But he was so strong." 
 
 "The disease has accomplished its work. 
 Why did n't you come sooner ? " 
 
 Monsieur Naudie could only look at his 
 brother, and murmur, " I could not, I could 
 not." 
 
 The little group hastened at once on the 
 short journey to Villebourbon. As they 
 284 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 walked along, William said that Louise had 
 arrived; raueh changed, grown older, little 
 like the pretty sister of whom they had once 
 been so proud. Angelica, he said, was keep- 
 ing watch at her father's bedside. The dying 
 man did not wish anybody else. Paul had 
 surprised them by his lack of interest. "He 
 can talk only of his work," said William. " I 
 really believe that he begrudges the time which 
 his father takes in dying." 
 
 " And the others ? " asked Simeon. 
 
 " They have all written or telegraphed, ex- 
 cept Marcel, who is too far away. But father 
 will not see any of them." A moment later 
 William added : " What a vacancy he will 
 leave ! We did not see much of him, to be 
 sure, but we knew he was there, alive, — old 
 oak that he seemed ; and we hardly more than 
 weak saplings, which have grown up around 
 him. Now the end has come; the oak is 
 ready to fall. And we children are not the 
 only losers ; the whole world will lose by his 
 death." 
 
 As they entered the old mansion, they 
 paused a moment at the foot of the great 
 staircase, and, with one thought in common, 
 glanced at one another's faces. It was indeed 
 a house of mourning; the cold breath of the 
 285 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Infinite seemed present in the very air. The 
 silence was fUnereal. They seemed to feel, at 
 their side, as they climbed upward, the pale 
 phantom, who was there, awaiting his hour. 
 They entered the sick-room. The odor of 
 drugs was very strong; a door opened noise- 
 lessly, and some careful footfalls met their ear ; 
 then Angelica stood before them. 
 
 " God be praised, Simeon ! " she said, in low 
 tones. " He has just opened his eyes again. 
 He has taken two spoonflils of champagne. 
 The physician does not allow him the red 
 wine, which you know he was so fond of I 
 have told him of your arrival, and I think he 
 understood. Just at this time he ought to rest 
 in quiet." 
 
 She broke off her hurried narration, to em- 
 brace her brother and niece, and then led the 
 way into the library, where Paul and Louise 
 were seated, reading. They exchanged a few 
 words of greeting quietly, as if they had parted 
 only the day before ; but Simeon could not 
 help feeling that his sister, with her gray hair 
 and worn wrinkled face, was almost like a 
 stranger to him. 
 
 " You probably need something to eat and 
 drink," said Angelica to the new-comers. 
 
 " Yes . . . yes . . ." replied Simeon, " but 
 286 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 I would so much like to see ... to see him 
 first." 
 
 " Well, then, come with me," she an- 
 swered ; and Esther, trembling, followed be- 
 hind them. 
 
 The sick room was kept dim, and the old 
 carved furniture was scarcely discernible. There 
 was an old-fashioned clothes-press, with one or 
 two busts of famous men upon it ; there were 
 also family portraits of men, looking very stiiF 
 in their doublets, or gazing gloomily down out 
 of black pastoral gowns, with one white band at 
 the neck. The most striking object of all was 
 the great high-posted bed, which had been occu- 
 pied, in both life and death, for two hundred 
 years, by members of the Naudie family. Upon 
 this historic bed Abraham Naudie was half re- 
 clining, propped up by pillows, and apparently 
 asleep, with long beard flowing down over his 
 breast, and with head crowned by his thick white 
 locks. His features were drawn, his nose thin, 
 and his mouth half open, -showing clearly the 
 ravages of disease ; but despite all, he preserved 
 still the beauty and dignity of the grand old . 
 king, in the legend. Presently his eyes opened 
 slowly, heavily, and, after wandering a moment 
 over the room, fixed themselves upon the group 
 standing beside his pillow. 
 287 
 
Pastor Nau clip's Young Wife 
 
 " Father, father," whispered Simeon, " do- 
 you know me ? " 
 
 There was no response. The old man's 
 body trembled slightly. His eyes closed 
 again, then re-opened ; but the gaze wandered 
 vacantly around, without seeing anything. 
 Esther was frightened, and half turned away. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! " cried Monsieur Nau- 
 die, wringing his hands, "he does not know 
 me ! He will never recognize me again." 
 
 He looked helplessly at Angelica, who said 
 nothing ; and, divining what was in her mind, 
 he murmured, " Ah, my dear sister, if only you 
 knew!" 
 
 Touched with his grief and regret, Angelica 
 said, " Was somebody ill in your family ? " 
 
 "No! They are well, but - . ."' Then 
 he stopped. This was not the time and place 
 to speak of his own private troubles. 
 
 " I will explain to you later," he said. 
 
 Sad, silent hours passed. Among the long- 
 separated brothers and sisters, whom life had 
 scattered as the wind scatters wheat-grains 
 which have grown upon one stalk, the old-time 
 intimacy was reviving again ; they quickly 
 found, however, that they had very little in 
 common, and fell to asking questions about 
 one another's children and their doings. Louise 
 288 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 told about her five children, of whom one was 
 feeble in body, but quick and intelligent in 
 mind ; her eyes grew bright and her manner 
 became animated, as she spoke of this little 
 one, on whom she evidently lavished an abun- 
 dance of attention and affection. Simeon 
 spoke briefly and carefully of his young wife, 
 whom William declared " charming," and re- 
 gretted not having seen, for a long time. As 
 for Paul, he recounted incidents of his re- 
 ligious work, referring to persecutions, and 
 appeals to the civil authorities, and miraculous 
 conversions. His committee had thought of 
 displacing him, because of some public talk 
 which had arisen ; and this had filled him with 
 bitterness. He quoted from Scripture, "'I 
 came, not to bring peace, but a sword.' But his 
 followers are cowardly ; even the best of them 
 think only of keeping along in a comfortable 
 path of life, and are incapable of sacrificing 
 themselves in his cause." 
 
 " That shows," remarked William, dryly, 
 " that some advance has been made in the di- 
 rection of tolerance." 
 
 Paul replied, " Our father often told us that 
 tolerance was only a mediocre virtue." 
 
 " But he practised it most consistently," 
 retorted William. " Has not his whole hfe 
 19 2S9 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 'been a testimony to this generous quality ? In- 
 tellectually he kept in touch with all systems 
 of thought, he examined all kinds of doctrines. 
 The faith to which he personally adhered 
 was broad, tolerant, and yet modest and hum- 
 ble, I recently opened one of his books ; 
 this is what I read there." 
 
 William took down from the mantel an 
 old yellow-covered volume, and read slowly 
 and respectfully : "If our faith is not great 
 enough to remove mountains, if we are drawn 
 toward God without clearly apprehending him, 
 if our belief is weak, and if duty alone seems 
 left to us, we can at least preserve carefully the 
 little we have ; and that will be a starting- 
 point for our efforts, — the effort of our 
 thought toward truth, the effort of our conduct 
 toward higher ideals ; and that is the lesson 
 which may be disentangled from the web of all 
 systems of morality, the lesson which lies deep 
 down underneath all beliefs. When we under- 
 stand the moral impulse, and use it humbly 
 yet confidently, it teaches us to respect other 
 men's consciences ; for the conscience is the 
 true temple of the true God." 
 
 " There ! that is what father thought," said 
 William. " His words will live after him. 
 They have the freshness of youth, the vigor 
 290 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of sincerity, and yet the hand that wrote 
 them has not now strength enough to turn the 
 leaves whereon they are inscribed." 
 
 Paul bit his thin lips, and said nothing. 
 
 Toward evening the old man showed signs 
 of uneasiness. Probably his breathing was dif- 
 ficult; for he leaned forward, and his breast 
 heaved ; moans and inarticulate sounds issued 
 from his lips. The attendant suggested ad- 
 ministering an opiate ; but Paul opposed any- 
 thing of the sort. " You can see that he is in 
 pain," said Angelica. " Why not do something 
 to quiet him ? " And the evangelist consented, 
 though with that air of disapproval which 
 seemed almost stamped upon his features. 
 
 Little by little, Abraham Naudie sank 
 again into a comatose state. The children, 
 who had been summoned during this crisis, 
 now returned to the library, where, in his 
 books, their father seemed more truly to live 
 than in the upper room, where his poor body 
 was stretched out in pain. 
 
 Simeon, alone remained at the bedside, await- 
 ing any possible return of consciousness, hop- 
 ing for some slight return of animation to those 
 vacant eyes, or for some brief word from those 
 lips which soon would lapse into eternal silence. 
 But in vain. Some few movements of the 
 291 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 muscles testified to the fact that death had not 
 yet come. The quiet of the room was broken 
 only by the ticking of the clock, or the troubled 
 breathing of the dying man. The silence was 
 heavy, fateful, like that of the eternity which 
 seemed so near ; and out of it rose the prayers 
 of Simeon's troubled soul toward the Infinite 
 One. 
 
 About midnight. Monsieur Naudie noticed 
 that his father's breathing was becoming slower. 
 He aroused the attendant, who was dozing. 
 " Listen ! " said he. 
 
 The woman leaned over the motionless 
 body, and put her ear down to his breast. 
 
 The sound of the breathing became lighter 
 and lighter. It was as if some sea-going craft 
 were floating gently out on the swell of the 
 ocean ; and with a gende voice she said, " I 
 believe that this time it is really the end." 
 
 Simeon repeated, " The end ! the end ! " 
 
 Then it seemed best to call the others. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " exclaimed he. *' Call them ! 
 Call them all quickly ! " 
 
 They entered, in silence. Angelica held 
 Esther to her breast, and the child trembled, 
 and dared not come very near. The aged 
 man's eyes opened once more, glassy and ex- 
 pressionless, touched already by the shadows 
 292 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 which were enveloping him. His glance wan- 
 dered aimlessly about. Again he closed them, 
 and again they opened. His breathing be- 
 came slower stUl. His head half lifted from 
 the pillow, thrown forward by two or three 
 spasms in the throat; and, after that, all was 
 silence and peace. 
 
 Said the attendant, "It is over." And at 
 the same time, accustomed to such scenes, she 
 closed the lids over the eyes which would never 
 see again, and, ready to perform her last duties, 
 raised in her strong arms the inert body and 
 the noble head whence had issued so many grand 
 thoughts. 
 
 Standing near the bed, Simeon wept, in the 
 arms of his sister and his daughter. A step or 
 two behind him, Louise and William stood, 
 hand in hand, waiting. And Paul's dry, hard 
 voice, rising above the sound of the weeping, 
 recited verses from the Psalms : " Thou 
 turnest man to destruction, and sayest. Return, 
 ye children of men ! Thou earnest them 
 away, as with a flood ; they are as a sleep. In 
 the morning they are like grass which groweth 
 up. . . . For we are consumed by thine anger, 
 and by thy wrath are we troubled." 
 
 293 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ON the morning following Abraham 
 Naudie's death, Henry Defos went 
 down to his father's office. He crossed the 
 dingy dusty ship-yard, littered with heaps of 
 coal and wood, where great windlasses creaked, 
 and strong men bent under their burdens. It 
 was not of his choice that he entered this world 
 of noise and activity, in which he must now 
 become one of the wheels. He had never had 
 a liking for business affairs. But, in examin- 
 ing himself, in his conscientious refusal to go 
 on with his chosen profession, he did not find 
 that he had quite the courage and hope to 
 begin in some other one, and thus attain full 
 freedom. Besides, there were other factors 
 which entered into his present condition of 
 mind ; he was worn out with his recent strug- 
 gles, he was bruised and wounded by the 
 victory which he had achieved during the 
 night. He was exhausted by the transition 
 to a higher purpose which his soul had 
 achieved, a purpose which he was now hasten- 
 ing to put into practice ; and he was obeying 
 the voice of duty, but he took no interest in 
 his work or in his future. 
 294 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Defos was very glad to see his 
 second son coming thus into the office. It 
 was a rather sombre place, with windows open- 
 ing upon the coal-yard ; but it was the scene of 
 his own output of tireless energy, and from it 
 he ruled a little world. Since Henry's illness, 
 his father had felt toward him a certain timidity, 
 such as men of affairs often feel toward more 
 sensitive men of books and letters. He fan- 
 cied that he might find the young man 
 rather indolent, and slow to learn ; but he 
 resolved to be patient, and not reprove him. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he. " So you have decided to 
 come and try the air here in the office. That is 
 good. I am glad to see you here. Would you 
 like to go to work ? To- day ? Or to-morrow ? " 
 
 Henry sat down, opposite his father, who 
 laid down his pen, pushed back his papers, 
 and swung around on the light revolving desk- 
 chair, which cracked under his weight. " As 
 soon as possible ! " said Henry. 
 
 Monsieur Defos's face brightened. 
 
 " Only, one thing, father ! I would like to 
 begin by taking a journey." 
 
 Monsieur Defos was roused at once, and 
 was ready to blame the young man. "A 
 journey ? What journey ? Some pleasure 
 tour, doubtless! In Italy, of course ! " 
 295 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " No, some useful journey, I mean. Some 
 journey, for the good of the business ; if such 
 a one is possible." 
 
 " Well, now ! That is more like it ! That 
 pleases me. At this very moment, we have 
 a contract in Norway, which needs immediate 
 attention. I will explain it to you ; and if it 
 suits you ..." 
 
 " North or South, it is all the same to me. 
 I wish, simply, to get away as soon as possible." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 A protracted silence was the only reply to 
 this question. Monsieur Defos repeated his 
 inquiry. Henry bowed his head. 
 
 " Ah ! what is it now ? " asked Monsieur 
 Defos, knitting his brows. " Don't you under- 
 stand that I ought to know ? " And vague 
 suspicions and fears crossed his mind. This 
 strange son was constandy bringing him 
 surprises. 
 
 " Don't ask me, father ! The reasons 
 which urge me to go away are not from any 
 fault of mine. They have existence only in 
 my own heart and mind. You need not fear 
 that I shall do anything to cause you anxiety. 
 On the contrary, I am not sure but that my 
 stay here might be a source of complications. 
 I have asked much of you lately, and now I 
 296 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 ask only this one thing more ; that is, to go 
 away. I will return when I can. You will 
 then have in me an obedient son, who will 
 try to compensate you, by his faithfulness, for 
 your many kindnesses." 
 
 Dull as he was to all that pertained to 
 the romance of life. Monsieur Defos now 
 partially understood. But he had very little 
 sympathy with the idea that any such journey 
 would be necessary. He believed that any 
 and all the caprices of the heart could be easily 
 conquered by reason and determination. More- 
 over, he was a little fearful of some accident 
 to his second son, if he went far away, in his 
 present state of mind and body. 
 
 " Go away ? " he exclaimed. " Do you think 
 it would be best for you to go away ? Let me 
 tell you my opinion, which is, that this jour- 
 ney is not at all necessary for you. To take 
 it, as an important necessary step, is not ac- 
 cording to the ways of our family. In our 
 household we have never indulged in romances. 
 We take life seriously. We accept whatever 
 comes, without indulging in any foolish oppo- 
 sition. But then, you are made of a different 
 stuff. I have come to see that. I have been 
 much pleased to see that you have still kept 
 alive your sense of duty. Doubtless there are 
 297 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 cases where heroism is best shown by taking 
 one's self away. So, then, play the hero after 
 your own fashion, my boy ! " 
 
 Henry hardly cared to go any fiirther into 
 the details of his humiliating condition. He 
 accepted thankfully the position reached by his 
 practical, prosaic, impassive father. " Well, 
 then," said he, " let us arrange about this 
 journey, since you consent to it! And now 
 will you do me the favor, this evening at din- 
 ner, in the presence of my mother and my 
 brother, of asking me and even ordering me 
 to go away ? " 
 
 Monsieur Defos consented to this also. 
 Then he began upon a minute explanation 
 of the transaction which would warrant this 
 sudden departure. 
 
 Henry did not see Jane again. She, how- 
 ever, passed a dreary afternoon with her aunt, 
 foreseeing clearly the deep impression which the 
 scene of the evening before must make upon 
 the young man. 
 
 That evening, at dinner, the little drama 
 which had been arranged between father and 
 son was carried out. They were a little ashamed 
 of the parts they were playing ; but when one 
 has entered, be it never so slightly, upon a 
 course of deception, it is often necessary to 
 298 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 practise still more deception, in order to carry 
 out the original plan. Thus it was that Henry, 
 in order to make his ruse a success, was com- 
 pelled to speak and act boldly. 
 
 Monsieur Defos, according to his custom, 
 returned thanks, after the dinner ; then, rather 
 clumsily, in the confusion of leaving the table, 
 he remarked : " By the bye, Henry, I have 
 something to propose to you. What say you 
 to taking a journey ? A long one, too, to as- 
 sist in carrying out one of the business trans- 
 actions of our office ? " 
 
 With his face somewhat red, the young man 
 replied, " I am at your command, father." 
 
 Madame Defos listened, with eagerness and 
 surprise. 
 
 Monsieur Defos continued : " Very good ! 
 It shall be soon. You will need to set about 
 it direcdy." 
 
 " Just as you say ! " 
 
 " Well, then, let it be to-morrow ! Perhaps 
 to-morrow morning rather than to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 Madame Defos, stupefied, now protested. 
 Her son's health, she said, still needed great care. 
 But Henry interrupted her, cheerfully, "Oh, 
 never mind about my health, mother ! I am 
 remarkably well." 
 
 299 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " But the preparations ! A man can't set 
 off on a long journey with merely a cane and 
 an overcoat. There must be some supplies. 
 Trunks must be packed," 
 
 " A valise will be enough," said Henry, 
 "quite enough. I can buy what I need, on 
 the way." 
 
 " I 've done that many a time," remarked 
 David. 
 
 " Surely you won't hurry away in such a 
 fashion," stammered Madame Defos, " without 
 taking leave of anybody, as if you were run- 
 ning away ? " 
 
 " The idea ! " protested Monsieur Defos, 
 stoutly. " Why, he goes away just as any 
 active man would, when business compels it. 
 David and I have often done it." 
 
 "You may make ready whatever you like, 
 mother dear," said Henry, touched by her 
 deep interest, " and then I will thank you and 
 give you a kiss. Now that I have entered 
 upon business life, I must be ready to meet 
 its demands." 
 
 "Very well," she replied reluctantly, "I will 
 do the best I can." 
 
 Her features, which had become for a few 
 moments alert and expressive, now sank into 
 their habitual immobility. But, behind her 
 300 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 impassive countenance, a great anxiety and dis- 
 quietude was taking root. This unexpected 
 departure was a new contingency, which she now 
 longed to meet and overcome. There were 
 her other plans, which she had expected would 
 bring about certain results. She had struggled 
 and schemed to bring to her favorite son what 
 she believed rightfully belonged to him. 
 
 Monsieur Defos now remarked, casually : 
 " I have myself been only once in Norway. I 
 found the journey, however, rather interesting 
 and instrvictive. I hope Henry will profit 
 by it." And he began upon a long dissertation 
 regarding the northern countries. 
 
 With all that careful attention to details 
 characteristic of good housekeepers, Madame 
 Defos spent a long evening between the closets 
 and bureaus and two trunks, which she slowly 
 filled. She had come to look upon the pro- 
 posed journey as natural and necessary, but she 
 was much disturbed in heart, and her thoughts 
 were restless and active. Toward midnight the 
 trunks were fiall, and she went up to Henry's 
 room, to say good-night to him for the last time. 
 She found him seated at his desk, writing. He 
 arose to welcome her, made her sit down, and 
 took both her hands in his. 
 
 " Poor, dear mother," he said tenderly, " you 
 301 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 have been sitting up on my account. You must 
 be very tired." 
 
 She glanced at the letter, which he had be- 
 gun, and then at him. He noted the silent 
 inquiry of her look, and replied : " Yes, I have 
 been writing ... to Jane. You will give her 
 the letter yourself to-morrow, so that she may 
 learn from you of my departure. I have not 
 yet told her about it." 
 
 He spoke with that calm which strong na- 
 tures show, when they are carrying out some 
 difficult but fully arranged plan. It was plain 
 that he had counted the cost. 
 
 "Why have you not seen her, to tell her 
 yourself? What prevented your going this 
 evening ? " 
 
 " I assure you, mother, that this is the better 
 way." 
 
 How could he expect to deceive his mother 
 regarding his real motives ? She loved him too 
 dearly to be very blind to what was passing; 
 she had known, for a long time, his secret, and 
 she had been very indulgent to him in his 
 temptations and trials. Knowing, therefore, as 
 he did, that she read his heart, he felt now a 
 measureless need of her kind words and conso- 
 lation. " Yes, it is better this way," he repeated. 
 Then he continued, slowly : " Ties and bonds 
 302 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 soon form, before one realizes how strong they 
 are becoming. We easily fall into easy, pleas- 
 ant relationships. Affections build themselves 
 about us, and we know it not, until they have 
 taken firm hold of us ; and then a day comes 
 when we open our eyes, and see what paths 
 we have travelled. Mother, my eyes are open 
 now. What do you think I ought to do ? " 
 
 He waited for her reply, expecting about the 
 same words to which he had listened, as they 
 came from his father's lips that morning ; for 
 his mother, according to the idea which he had 
 of her, was, despite her obvious affection for 
 him, a woman of strict honor and clear sense. 
 However, she contented herself with murmur- 
 ing, " Ah, if Jane had only listened to me, she 
 would never have married that man." 
 
 This plaintive regret, this vain protest, 
 touched him deeply ; but he did not weaken. 
 "Yes," he replied, "if . . . if; but she is now 
 his wife ; and how can I play the part of some 
 thief, prowling about his house ! How can I 
 bring harm to his household and his heart ! 
 And then, up to what point can one struggle 
 against circumstances ? Indeed, I think too 
 highly of her to bring harm to her. I love her 
 for herself. Her honor is dearer to me than 
 my happiness. I cannot tempt her out into the 
 303 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 paths of deception. I wish her to be a good 
 woman, who may, indeed, suffer in her feelings, 
 but whose conscience is unsullied. And, for 
 that, I must go away. I will write to her some- 
 times, and I will come back when we have both 
 become strong enough to be able to meet. It 
 shall be a beautiful friendship that shall unite 
 us, sincere and honorable, for which we shall 
 have no occasion to blush, either before others 
 or before our own souls." 
 
 Madame Defos followed, astonished, this 
 plain language of the poor young lover. All 
 that she comprehended, or desired to compre- 
 hend, was that her son was in suffering, and 
 was renouncing a happiness which she was by 
 no means willing he should renounce. Such 
 was the high influence, over her, of his nobility 
 of nature, that she could not reveal to him her 
 own dark plans. How could she speak plainly 
 to such a young heart, seriously bent on hon- 
 orable self-sacrifice, concerning purposes which 
 she had revolved in her mind for many months ! 
 How could she remind him that marriage is by 
 no means an indissoluble bond, and that the 
 Code even allows the taking of a neighbor's 
 wife ! 
 
 " Oh ! this man Naudie ! " she exclaimed, 
 with animosity. 
 
 304 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " He is not to blame," said Henry ; " and 
 he is in great trouble about it all, himself. 
 There, there! It is my duty to go on this 
 journey, I am in the way here." 
 
 He seemed upborne on a wave of exaltation, 
 triumphing over his selfish instincts ; while his 
 mother, altering her tone, gave her approval, 
 compassionated him, comforted him, and ended 
 by expressing, with tears in her eyes, her great 
 distress at his sad conditions. " Come back ! 
 Come back soon ! " she cried. " I am so ac- 
 customed to having you with me. It seems, 
 now, that I must consent to your going, but it 
 is all too cruel. I need you more than ever, 
 after having so nearly lost you. Oh, how I 
 hate those who are the means of sending you 
 away ! 
 
 When Henry was left alone, he finished his 
 letter. He had begun it in a calm, reasonable 
 way, unfolding the reasons why he ought to go 
 away. But the longer he wrote, there in the 
 solitude of the night, the more heated he be- 
 came. The violence of his passion and the 
 mighty struggle through which he was passing, 
 found vent in eloquent words, and page after 
 page was covered with writing. Without 
 weighing his words or his fancies, without 
 holding firmly to his resolution, his pen re- 
 ^° 3°5 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 volved about the one thought, " I love you, I 
 love you, and now I must go away," It is a 
 never-ending theme, whose bitterness only they 
 learn who experience it ; a theme through 
 which vibrates something which is the noblest 
 in the soul of man, — the power of love and 
 the power of sacrifice ; a theme which lovers, 
 famous or obscure, in all ages, have chanted or 
 wailed, each in his own sad heart, as each has 
 felt the wounds of separation, and the weight 
 of duty. When the letter was finished, Henry 
 paused, with an aching heart. What would 
 she think, as she read this ? Perhaps . . . 
 intolerable thought . . . that he no longer 
 loved her. 
 
 The day broke. He opened his window. 
 Through the rosy mist of dawn, he could dis- 
 tinguish the great cedarin Monsieur Naudie's 
 garden, rising dark and dignified. Then, after 
 a moment, as if he were reflecting upon the 
 distance which in a few hours must separate 
 him from her, he groaned, " Oh if I could stay ! 
 If I could only stay ! " But he was one of 
 those whose very weaknesses challenge them 
 to embrace the dreaded suffering, rather than 
 to flee from it. 
 
 306 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 JANE was ending a quarrel with Bertha, 
 when Henry's letter was brought to her. 
 Madame Defos was not especially desirous of 
 softening the blow for her niece ; its very 
 violence might help her own plans. So she 
 did not bring the letter over herself. Jane, in 
 her closed room, gave way to a storm of rage, 
 sorrow, humiliation, ending in sobs which did 
 not cease for an hour. Then the storm abated, 
 the young woman's elastic nature rebounded, 
 and she rose above her feelings. She had 
 doubts as to whether he had really gone. She 
 revolved a thousand projects for bringing him 
 back, or for keeping him from going. There 
 was some uncertainty regarding his plans. He 
 had said little about the journey, and much 
 about his feeling for her. Surely it was best 
 to make sure ; and she drew a cloak around 
 her morning-gown, wrapped a shawl about 
 her head, and hastened over to her aunt, 
 on whose assistance she felt that she could 
 count. 
 
 Exhausted by the unusual emotions of the 
 previous night, Madame Defos was wandering 
 307 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 about in the vacant house, surprised still, and 
 hardly realizing the great change which had 
 come. She seemed old and feeble, and more 
 shapeless in figure than ever ; and her impas- 
 sive face seemed fixed and rigid, lined and 
 creased with heavy care. But Jane knew well 
 that under this outer mask of lethargy could 
 be found a resdess, vigorous spirit, as often it 
 had been found before. She was instinctively 
 certain that she would have, in this mother, an 
 eager, powerful, and perhaps triumphant ally. 
 Moreover, while she had never taken her aunt 
 wholly into her confidence, she had not at all 
 concealed from her her feelings. Accordingly, 
 as the two met, Jane asked, in the tone which 
 one involuntarily uses in a house where death 
 has come, " Is it true ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is true." 
 
 "How so? Why? Where?" 
 
 Madame Defos made her niece seat herself, 
 and slowly explained. . . . Norway . . . im- 
 portant business . . . the interests of the firm. 
 In a very calm and collected voice she dwelt 
 upon the practical, business side of the affair. 
 
 Then Jane gasped : " Business ! Gone on 
 business ! " 
 
 Madame Defos looked at her a moment, 
 then took her hand, and said steadily : " Busi- 
 308 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 ness is the pretext, my child. As to the real 
 cause, you know better than anybody else. I 
 am sure that he must have written all that in 
 his letter." 
 
 She was casting about for exactly the right 
 words, words which would convey more hid- 
 den meaning than they might outwardly carry ; 
 while Jane, with face clouded, still held her 
 hand. 
 
 " Gone ! Gone ! " exclaimed the young wo- 
 man. " And in this way ! It is cowardly." 
 
 " No, don't say that ! If you could have 
 seen him last night, you would never say that. 
 I saw him ; I saw his grief and his tears ; I 
 saw his despair ; I saw his resolution. He 
 has by no means gone, out of cowardice, I 
 assure you ; he has gone because of duty." 
 
 This word " duty " awoke very slight re- 
 sponse in the young woman's wilfiil, hungry 
 soul. " Duty ! " she exclaimed scornfully. 
 " Always duty ! You have a great deal to 
 say about it, all of you. You think when you 
 have said it that you have said the final word. 
 They try to tell us, do some of these people, 
 that duty is the one supreme arbiter of life ; 
 but I think ..." Here her voice became 
 low and vibrant. " Well, duty ! Do you sup- 
 pose one thinks of that when he loves ? " 
 309 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 " Henry is one of those who never forget." 
 " Because they do not know how to love." 
 "Or because they love too much." Madame 
 Defos made a show of correcting herself. " It 
 is well that you tell me these things. My 
 duty, — the word is habitual with me, you 
 see, — my duty will not suffice to make me 
 conceal from you what I know, for the sake 
 of helping you to forget him. I cannot bring 
 myself to it. How can I live without him, 
 after I have seen him brought back almost 
 from death's door, and now that I was expect- 
 ing to have him always near me ! Besides, I 
 have always had his happiness and welfare close 
 at heart. In order to make him happy, mark 
 you, I would overturn the world, if I were able. 
 But how can you expect him to choose happi- 
 ness, if evil must be linked with it ! You do 
 not know my son. His heart is eloquent with 
 feeling ; but he has the self-control to repress 
 it. My son never could love anybody, except 
 as his wife, Jane ; and you, Jane, alas, can never 
 be that to him." 
 
 Jane sat thoughtfully, knitting her brow, 
 with litde of her old animation evident. 
 "And I cannot be that to him," she repeated 
 mechanically. 
 
 After a few moments more of silence, she 
 310 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 spoke again. " I am only twenty-five years 
 old. I am just beginning life. Why should I 
 carry, all my days, the burden of my mistake ? 
 For undoubtedly I have made a mistake. And 
 just there is the pity of it. My error did not 
 come from God or the devil ; but arose simply 
 from my own inexperience, from my youth 
 and impressionability, — from a silly dream. 
 And because I have been deceived once, be- 
 cause my foolish school-girl fancy led me on 
 a false scent, and I was allowed ..." 
 
 Madame Defos interrupted : " Oh, I warned 
 I) 
 you. 
 
 " Well, warned or not, what difference does 
 it make? I made a mistake; there is the 
 plain fact. And, because of it, I must needs 
 take in tow this man and his family, whom I 
 cannot make happy, and who make me most 
 miserable. And I have only one life to live. 
 Now look at it all ! Is it fair ? Is it as it 
 should be?" 
 
 Madame Defos sighed. " It is marriage, 
 my child ; it is the law." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Law, duty, conscience ! All 
 those words from your dictionary ! I don't 
 understand them, I don't wish to understand 
 them. They seem to me false and meaning- 
 less." 
 
 311 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young "Wife 
 
 At these violent expressions, given with 
 much feeling, Madame Defos replied, with 
 great show of resignation : " I was once young, 
 like you, Jane. I think I may add that I was 
 pretty, also. I too had my dreams, as most 
 young girls have. And then I was married to 
 Monsieur Defos. You are acquainted with his 
 nature. Need I say to you that he does not 
 closely resemble the hero of my girlish dreams? 
 So, for a time, I thought myself very unhappy; 
 and, perhaps, I was. However, life has gone 
 on." 
 
 " But I do not wish to have it go on in any 
 such way for me. I will not have it so. I 
 must have my life beautiful, and free, and filled 
 with love. I am suffocated with these bonds 
 and burdens which are heaped upon me. Why 
 should I not burst through them? I have 
 courage enough, I am not afraid. Law! 
 You forget that while there is a law which 
 binds, there is also one which sets free. Yes, 
 yes ! There are laws that liberate. Why 
 don't you say something about them ? " 
 
 " Here, my child, in this house, in this city, 
 within the bounds of our faith . . . well, one 
 must yield in silent submission." 
 
 " But I am not one of you. I am in re- 
 bellion against your ways, your faith, your 
 312 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 city, your traditions ... I am ready to defy 
 them ail. I will walk over them, head in air. 
 And you — surely you will not oppose me ? " 
 
 " Ah," said Madame Defos, " if I believed 
 that separation would heal my boy's heart, I 
 would indeed oppose you ; but I know that 
 he loves you too deeply to forget you." 
 
 One brief sentence, in a letter from Bertha 
 to Esther, apprised Monsieur Naudie of 
 Henry's sudden departure ; the news came 
 to him on the morning of the day of his 
 father's burial, and found him already too 
 much overwhelmed with grief to be greatly 
 affected by it. For four days, all thoughts of 
 Henry and Jane had been well-nigh effaced, 
 by the pangs of remorse which had taken hold 
 upon him. He felt that he had neglected his 
 duty. His thoughts reverted to his father, 
 dying without a last good-bye, more than to 
 his wife and his rival ; and when he did think 
 of them, it was without the bitter feelings of 
 wounded love or irritated jealousy. His pas- 
 sion had crumbled, in the general misfortune 
 which had come to him ; and he now had only 
 the desire to protect and preserve, as a man 
 should, the respectability and honor of his 
 hearth and home. So that, when Esther read 
 313 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 him Bertha's letter, he only said to himself 
 that this departure had come too late, all too 
 late. And he straightway gave himself up 
 again to the current of memories and regrets, 
 which swept him along, — memories and re- 
 grets which were kept constantly in his mind 
 by the scenes around him. 
 
 The death of Abraham Naudie, coming, as it 
 did, only eighteen months after his jubilee, 
 brought back to Montauban many of the long 
 gowns and snow-crowned heads from the uni- 
 versities. Professors there were ; and pastors ; 
 and philosophers, with their calm, serene souls, 
 subdued by reason and reflection ; now they 
 found themselves a part of the fianeral cortege, 
 behind the hearse, which was loaded with 
 wreaths, and was bearing away, to its last resting- 
 place, the now empty body of this noble old 
 man. The solemnity of the occasion greatly 
 moved Simeon. He walked with the others, 
 and felt that all were in harmony. He listened 
 to their words, as they stood around the tomb. 
 Long speeches, many of them, eulogizing the 
 great work of the deceased, and some of them 
 uttered with more zeal than discretion. The 
 words which fall at such times upon a bier, 
 much resemble the empty, fruitless funeral 
 trappings themselves ; the one whose body 
 314 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 was then and there consigned to earth tran- 
 scended all their power of expression. But 
 what of it? Words so often fall ineffective, 
 inadequate, and the wind sweeps them away ; 
 while, far away, in the remote corners of the 
 world, within the hearts and minds of growing 
 youth, bending over their books, — his books, 
 — good seed was germinating, sown by the 
 hand of the aged husbandman. 
 
 After the official ceremonies had taken place, 
 and the delegates had gone, family questions 
 came to the front. Plans, rearrangements, 
 settlements needed to be discussed. All felt 
 pity for Angelica, that tender vine, torn oiF 
 and cast upon the ground by the woodsman, 
 who came to cut down the mighty oak about 
 which she had twined. So many years of 
 sweet, willing slavery had accustomed her to 
 sacrifice. What would become of her, alone, 
 in the future, with no being' to work for, obliged 
 to concern herself with herself only, and 
 hardly knowing how to do that ? So great 
 was her disruption of life and lack of definite 
 plans, that one might very aptly have appUed 
 to her these words from the " Dialogues of 
 To-day " : " Sacrifice expects no recompense. 
 Its sole joy is in going forward to new work ; for 
 if it stops, it leaves a greater vacancy than do 
 315 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 the warmest afFections. And this is, perhaps, 
 because it would be hopeless, had not Christ 
 
 — that supreme master of human hearts, know- 
 ing how to touch them so as to ennoble them 
 
 — given it the loftiest place among the virtues, 
 and made it the foundation of morality, and 
 built upon it all our other faiths and beliefs." 
 Poor Angelica ! Like a swallow, left behind 
 in the hour of migration, she wandered about 
 through the empty rooms, and said, again and 
 again, to one and another of her brothers, 
 *' Certainly I ought to be able to do something 
 for you," 
 
 Alas, she could not. Their affairs were all 
 arranged. What could she do in the strange, 
 unaccustomed, irregular life of William ? Or, as 
 well, with Paul, whose intolerable fanaticism was 
 very different from her standards of goodness. 
 Or with Simeon, who belonged to his young 
 wife ? Thus, at the close of many years of 
 self-abnegation, she found solitude weighing 
 upon her. Already she began to reflect that it 
 might be necessary for her to give up such spa- 
 cious quarters, and go away from the dear old 
 home, where no Naudie, save herself, was left ; 
 and perhaps to depart from the town itself, so 
 familiar to her and so full of memories. These 
 anxieties, mingled with her sorrow for her 
 316 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 father's death, gave a very practical turn to her 
 ideas. Still, she was, and must always be, an 
 unpractical creature. She ventured to confide 
 her anxieties to Simeon, when she found him 
 in the library, — that room where she had 
 turned over the leaves of so many books for 
 her father. 
 
 " How lonely I feel in these days 1 " she 
 exclaimed; and her eyes, as she spoke, fell 
 upon the armchair, where, fifteen days before, 
 Abraham Naudie had sat, comfortably smoking 
 his pipe of Marseilles clay, with its long reed 
 stem. 
 
 " My dear sister, do you fancy that we can 
 ever forget your goodness to him ? " 
 
 " But you all have your lives, your duties, 
 your ties. I know that perfectly well." 
 
 " At first," said Simeon, " my plan is to 
 take you home with me, to give you a chance 
 to rest, and think over your plans, and reach 
 some decision." 
 
 She murmured timidly : " I fear that I shall 
 burden you. Your wife is young, and I shall 
 be rather gloomy. And then, she has her 
 ways of doing things ..." 
 
 Simeon almost groaned aloud at the words. 
 " I will see to it," said he, grimly, " that my 
 wife does not neglect her duties toward you." 
 317 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 Far from reassuring Angelica, the threat 
 which lay half hidden in his words frightened 
 her all the more. But she said nothing ; she 
 was content to fix upon her brother her ten- 
 der, grateful eyes. At the question which he 
 read in this mute appeal, Simeon said more 
 gently : " Yes, my good girl, you can come 
 to me without any hesitation or fear, for 
 there is in our house a great deal that needs 
 looking after. My home is by no means a 
 happy one. You will have there a good field 
 for the exercise of your sweetness and good- 
 ness. And when I have more trouble than I 
 can bear alone . . . well, I shall come and weep 
 over it with you." 
 
 Angelica, however, did not go away with 
 Simeon and Esther. She remained, last of all, 
 in the old home, which the saddened children 
 left, one after another. Paul departed first; 
 his evangelistic work needed him. Then Wil- 
 liam went, reaching Rocheport at about the 
 same time that the others reached La Rochelle. 
 Louise remained a week later, picking up 
 again the thread of the old child-life, which 
 her near departure would break off, probably 
 for the remainder of her days. Then silence 
 reigned in the old rooms, and solitude spread 
 itself through the whole house, like a deep 
 318 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 shadow, and Angelica glided aimlessly about 
 among the old ftirniture and the old books. 
 
 Monsieur Naudie's return was followed by 
 an interval of calm and quiescence. No ex- 
 planation was offered, between husband and 
 wife, no reference was made to the storm of 
 rage and jealousy in which they had separated. 
 No questions were asked concerning Henry. 
 In his depression of spirit, the pastor accepted 
 this half-reconciliation gladly ; with such peace- 
 able natures as his, points of strife which are not 
 raised openly, seem no longer to exist. He 
 fancied that Jane's heart was in much the same 
 softened conciliatory condition as his own. 
 Once outside that fiery circle of suspicion and 
 jealousy and anger, where he had come into 
 sharp antagonism with her interests, he loved 
 to believe that she too had come outside it 
 with him, and was trying to forget it. The 
 silence, and Henry's absence, and the readjust- 
 ment of the old habits would suffice, he thought, 
 to blot out the unpleasant past^ and scatter its 
 dark shadows. More than this, he even dreamed 
 of a full and frank reconciliation, and of a return 
 of that tranquillity of heart which had been his 
 during the early days of his marriage with her. 
 Upon his hearth, free from all taint of dishonor, 
 the good man thought he could see a clear flame 
 319 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of peace and joy again shedding light around. 
 In this mood, as if under the protecting care of 
 that father who had been such a blessing in 
 the home of his childhood. Monsieur Naudie 
 passed several happy days. Entire peace reigned 
 in the household, where he and his dwelt, find- 
 ing joy in one another's society. In the even- 
 ings, after Zelia had been put in bed, Esther 
 and Bertha busied themselves with some fancy- 
 work. Both said very little; Bertha seemed 
 silent and reserved, Esther appeared sweet and 
 serene. Abraham, one evening, arose, after 
 reading one of his books of travel, and said, as 
 he closed the volume, " There ! there 's where 
 I would like to go." 
 
 A remark which brought upon him this re- 
 sponse, " It is best to remain where one was 
 born, and it is best to obey one's father." 
 
 Even Jane herself, whether she read or 
 worked, or sat idly dreaming, with her little 
 shapely feet on the fender of the fireplace, 
 seemed very tranquil, and had the innocent 
 expression of a little child. Monsieur Naudie 
 lived over and over again the details of his sad 
 visit to Montauban, — the sickness, the funeral 
 rites, the eulogies ; and discussed, one after an- 
 other, the plans of the family. 
 
 "We have made over," said he, "to Angelica 
 320 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 the trifling rentals which our father left, and also 
 the authorship rights of his books." 
 
 Then he glanced at Jane, and added, " I think 
 we are all in agreement upon these matters." 
 
 Jane nodded her head, without showing any 
 especial interest ; and he continued : " Paul was 
 the only one who claimed any part of the prop- 
 erty ; and not for his own use, but for carry- 
 ing on his work. He finds that God has more 
 need, than has my poor sister, of these small 
 amounts." 
 
 At these words Esther laid down her work. 
 " Poor aunt Angelica ! " said she. 
 
 This was the favorable moment, which Mon- 
 sieur Naudie chose, for announcing the coming 
 of Angelica into their little family circle. "You 
 have doubtless heard," said he, " that she has 
 promised to come to us. I hope she will be 
 able to do so." 
 
 Jane at once showed more interest. " And 
 she will really come ? " she asked. 
 
 " Doubtless." 
 
 « Soon ? " 
 
 " As soon as she can." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Evidently Jane approved ; and Monsieur 
 Naudie, thinking he understood her, said to 
 himself: " How easy everything becomes, when 
 21 321 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 violent passion has passed away ! How often 
 it happens that some sign from God, some 
 call to duty, suffices to set our feet in the 
 right path ! " 
 
 So it was almost with gayety that he informed 
 his wife, one morning, that Angelica would cer- 
 tainly come. " It will be on Tuesday of next 
 week," he said, holding in his hand a letter 
 which he had just received. " She names Tues- 
 day, but she may perhaps be a little later than 
 that. She is not much used to travelling." 
 
 " At least," said Jane, " if it is not Tuesday^ 
 it will be Wednesday or Thursday ? She will 
 remain here some little time, I hope." 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Very good, then ! I have been awaiting 
 the news of the exact date of her arrival, my 
 friend, to convey to you a decision which I 
 reached some time ago. I have put off 
 speaking to you about it, out of regard for 
 your state of mourning. Now that your sister 
 is really coming, I do not see why I should 
 wait any longer." 
 
 She spoke calmly, in a steady reflective tone, 
 like a person who is very clear as to what she 
 is about to do.' 
 
 " A decision? " inquired Monsieur Naudie. 
 
 Looking him straight in the eyes, Jane 
 322 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 replied, " Yes, my friend ; my decision to leave 
 this house." 
 
 The shock to Monsieur Naudie was very 
 great. He could only stammer, " Have I 
 heard aright ? Do I understand you ? " 
 
 " I think so. Certainly it is very clear. I 
 wish to go away. I desire my freedom. We 
 have never understood each other, my friend ; 
 and we never will. So, then, let us separate, 
 without any hard feelings ! You have tried 
 to reform me; I am aware of that. But I 
 made a mistake. And I have not been a 
 source of joy to you or yours ; neither have 
 you brought me any happiness ; then, why 
 keep on in our mistaken course ? " 
 
 She hardly raised her voice above the 
 calmest level. Her apparent tranquillity gave 
 a strange effect to her surprising words. She 
 was laying aside the most sacred bonds, like a 
 child tossing away precious gems which he has 
 used for playthings. 
 
 " But you forget," exclaimed Monsieur 
 Naudie, " that we are married." 
 
 " By no means ! But I don't consider mar- 
 riage an indissoluble bond." 
 
 " It is, if looked at in the right way, nothing 
 less than a sacrament." 
 
 " I certainly do not see it in that way." 
 323 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " But I do." 
 
 " Oh no, your church allows divorce." 
 
 " It may allow it," protested the astonished 
 man, " but deplores the scandal of it. And I, 
 as a minister of the gospel, how can I consent 
 to such a thing ! How can I consent ... to 
 give you up ... at the very moment when . . . 
 when I thought I had found you once more ! 
 You surely cannot understand how sweet it is 
 for me to have you near me. You cannot 
 realize that, however you may have wounded 
 my heart, however you may have trampled 
 underfoot my love, it still lives and beats for 
 you, and, at any cost, would seek to save you 
 from yourself. Moreover, we are ... we are 
 pledged to each other for life. And your true 
 place is here — here. Give but a sign of 
 your wishes, and you shall have all pos- 
 sible attentions." Here, too, are your duties, 
 duties which dignify human life. Ah, poor 
 dear heart, when you speak thus lightly of 
 breaking the bonds which unite us, you must 
 have forgotten the solemn words of the service 
 which made us one; you have forgotten the 
 holy troth which you plighted in church." 
 
 Jane, who was listening to his excited words 
 impatiently, here interrupted : " You are 
 preaching me a sermon ? " 
 324 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " No," exclaimed Monsieur Naudie ; " it is, 
 rather, a prayer. It is the prayer of a despair- 
 ing man, who addresses it to your reason, to 
 your heart, to your conscience." 
 
 " Shorten it, then, I beg ! I find it a little 
 tedious." 
 
 Up to this point Monsieur Naudie had 
 spoken in a tone of entreaty. Now, as if 
 lashed by her heartless words, he drew him- 
 self up to his full height, and his handsome 
 face wore an expression of wounded pride. 
 
 " Ah, take care ! " he cried. " If you will 
 not listen to my prayerflil supplications, I will 
 change my form of address. You are un- 
 worthy of the words which I have used. Are 
 you, then, lost to all appeals of reason ? Have 
 you no sense of goodness, no moral sense ? 
 Then I will remind you that I too have 
 something plain to say upon this matter. A 
 wife has no right to leave her home, in obedi- 
 ence to some slight caprice. And I here state 
 to you that I will not give you the freedom 
 which you demand." 
 
 " But if I claim it, how can you hinder 
 me r 
 
 " By legal steps." 
 
 " Will you go and bring in the constable ? " 
 
 " I will forbid and prevent you from going." 
 325 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " An injunction, then ! You will put an 
 injunction upon me ; if that is what they call it ? 
 But, my dear, think a moment ! Listen to 
 what I tell you ! I am determined to have 
 my liberty again. I will gain it by any means 
 possible, legal or otherwise." 
 
 She paused a moment, to give full effect 
 to her hard, relentless words ; then went on : 
 
 "Besides, I expected this resistance from 
 you. It is perfectly natural ; not because you 
 love me — I know all about that — neither 
 because you are, as you say, a minister of the 
 gospel ; but because . . . you are poor . . . 
 and I . . . am rich." 
 
 "Jane ! " cried Monsieur Naudie. 
 
 " Yes, when I am gone, is it not poverty 
 and distress for you and your children ? It is 
 not I that you care for, it is my money. So 
 calm yourself! I . . ." 
 
 She stopped, for he was coming toward her, 
 with clenched hand raised. For an instant he 
 stood in this threatening position, then drew 
 back, and his hand fell at his side. " O most 
 miserable creature ! " he cried. *' Go ! Go, and 
 take everything ! I wish nothing of yours, 
 nothing, nothing. Go ! I drive you forth." 
 
 She went out slowly, never lowering her 
 gaze, as an athlete retreats when defeated, but 
 326 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 is still strong and collected enough to watch the 
 actions of his antagonist. Left alone. Monsieur 
 Naudie began to stammer a few words of prayer, 
 but ended by breaking down into sobs and tears. 
 He was forsaken, deserted. 
 
 327 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 JANE carried out her plan of leaving Mon- 
 sieur Naudie's house ; and what a theme 
 for conversation it furnished throughout the 
 city, where few exciting events occurred ! Not 
 only the free-thinkers enjoyed discussing the 
 flight of " the minister's wife," but everybody 
 talked about it, wherever they met one an- 
 other, in the street, at church, under the arcades, 
 at the foot of the Duperre statue, in the res- 
 taurants, near the great clock of the St. Nicholas 
 tower, or at the afternoon teas. Everywhere 
 people discussed it, in low tones, and with a 
 delightfiil sense of mystery. 
 
 The following Sunday, a young student, thin 
 and pale, took Monsieur Naudie's place in 
 church, and preached a sermon, constructed 
 according to the best rules, to which nobody 
 listened. When the congregation came out, 
 there was a steady hum of conversation, as of 
 a hive of bees greatly excited. There was still 
 considerable uncertainty hovering in the air, 
 regarding the exact facts. The good people 
 who have great difficulty in believing anything 
 iU, expressed themselves cautiously. Cynics 
 328 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 and evil-minded persons, certain of the truth 
 of the rumor, spoke boldly about the affair, and 
 wore an expression of satisfaction and triumph. 
 " It is certainly so. Positively ! She has left 
 his house. She will not go back." 
 
 Monsieur Merlin, much swollen with excite- 
 ment, went about from group to group, seeking 
 new details. " There is doubtless some cause ? 
 . . . Ah ! . . . Somebody ? Just as people 
 said! Ah ! ... It is true, then? " 
 
 Nobody cared to make very open replies to 
 his queries ; the prestige of the Defos name 
 was too great. A few ventured a remark or 
 two. " Is it a divorce ? " 
 
 " Oh, but a minister cannot obtain a divorce. 
 It will be merely a separation, doubtless." 
 
 " Who knows ? " 
 
 Monsieur Dehodecq dared to put a plain 
 question, as a person in his position could : 
 " What does Monsieur Defos say about it? " 
 
 Nobody knew. He had been in his cus- 
 tomary place in church, seated between his 
 wife and his son, with a more than usually 
 arrogant air ; and he had pushed through the 
 crowd, coming out, returning greetings, but 
 conversing with nobody. 
 
 " Madame Defos had a rather comfortable, 
 self-satisfied air," remarked somebody. 
 329 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Monsieur Lanthelme suggested, " That is, 
 perhaps, for some other reason. For instance, 
 she may be expecting her son's return." 
 
 " Ah ! Is he coming home ? " 
 
 " He is coming home." Some one said, and 
 nobody knew exactly who it was, " Perhaps 
 the affair will end in another marriage." 
 
 Monsieur Defos had not been at once in- 
 formed of Jane's decision. When he learned 
 about it, it fell like a bomb upon him. He 
 had not suspected it. He was at first angry ; 
 he reasoned with his niece ; he pictured vividly 
 to her the distress which must result ; but she 
 would not listen to him. 
 
 Now, Monsieur Defos, despite his " Princi- 
 ples," was one of those who had great respect 
 for facts, especially when they tended to en- 
 hance his own interests. He soon freed his 
 mind, after some inward tumult, from the 
 " General question," which had baffled him, 
 and now gave his attention to the " Particular 
 questions," whose complexity he was very 
 quick to perceive. There was the honor of 
 the family to be saved, there were the interests 
 of the family to be defended, there was the 
 unity of the family to be preserved ; and, inas- 
 much as his scrupulous honesty was not so 
 much disturbed when there was no probable 
 330 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 loss of money, he left his wife free to circulate 
 her version of the aifair, to direct public opin- 
 ion, and to see that all blame was laid upon 
 Monsieur Naudie. 
 
 Madame Defos, that "good woman," as 
 she was called, who up to this point had mani- 
 fested only a gentle apathy, now began to 
 display an energy that was wonderful, con- 
 sidering her size, an activity which one would 
 never have suspected. She was to be seen 
 everywhere, giving her version of the matter, 
 commiserating her niece, and enlarging skil- 
 fully upon the few favorable facts, which, like 
 all calumnies and deceits that are effective, had 
 a few grains of truth. " What could a young 
 wife do, at close quarters with a girl of such a 
 miserable character as Bertha, or with the evil 
 nature of a boy like Abraham ? Was the little 
 vagrant not expelled twice from school, and 
 would not have been taken back, except out 
 of consideration for his fafher ? Ah, if only 
 the poor young wife, faced by such a burden 
 of duty, could have had the assistance of her 
 husband ! But everybody knew the weakness 
 of their pastor. He was such a selfish man, 
 who let his own father die without hastening 
 to his bedside. Had he not shown clearly 
 how unscrupulous he was, in taking advantage 
 331 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of this young girl's romantic nature, and thus 
 securing a fortune for himself; and that, 
 too, without once considering his own age and 
 profession and duties ? " 
 
 It was interesting to see her, when she was 
 speaking in this way, raising her little ferret 
 eyes toward heaven, invoking corroboration 
 from that source. 
 
 " However, I warned her, the poor dear 
 child ! All this which has come to pass, my 
 dear friend, I foresaw. She has admitted it to 
 me more than once, after she recognized her 
 mistake. What could she do ? Was it right 
 that she should suffer, all her life ? I myself 
 counselled her to rise up and act, much as I 
 stand for union and harmony in family life." 
 
 Shielded by such skill and influence as this, 
 Jane shone forth like a saint, like a little 
 martyr. " So young, so beautiful, so rich, and 
 weighed down by a misfortune which might 
 blight her entire life ! " 
 
 " Fortunately," said Monsieur Lanthelme, 
 " she has time to begin anew." 
 
 At first the town-talk turned chiefly upon 
 the romantic and scandalous aspects of the 
 situation ; but, in a short time, people were 
 learnedly and confidently discussing the 
 worldly and material interests at stake. Where 
 332 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 would the money go ? Would Monsieur 
 Naudie sink back into the straitened conditions 
 in which he had lived before this marriage, 
 or would he find some honest, proper means 
 of retaining a little of this wealth, which had 
 cost him so much ? 
 
 " The woman, in this affair, is entirely mis- 
 tress of the situation," announced Monsieur 
 Merlin, who knew about the marriage contract, 
 having drawn it up with Monsieur Defos. 
 
 Then some good soul suggested, " Surely 
 she would never wish that he should sink back 
 into abject poverty." 
 
 " Women have no pity for men whom they 
 no longer love," said Monsieur Lanthelme. 
 
 Then another took it up : " If so desired, 
 she can be compelled to make over a certain 
 amount to him." 
 
 " Why ? He has had no children by her." 
 
 " Her own self-respect will compel her to 
 do it." 
 
 " Again, how can he possibly go back to the 
 old ways ? When one has become accustomed 
 to luxuries, it is hard to give them up." 
 
 While all these comments and discussions of 
 wiseacres were buzzing and droning on. Mon- 
 sieur Naudie shut himself up in his house to 
 suffer alone. The anger which Jane's conduct 
 333 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 had aroused in him quickly subsided. He was 
 conscious only of his own distress, and of the 
 invisible net of misfortune which had enveloped 
 him. His children's joy, at being delivered 
 from their enemy, they but poorly concealed. 
 It seemed to mock him in his misery. And 
 the consoling words of Esther and Angelica 
 had little influence over his disordered state 
 of mind. And what could they say ? With 
 that premature wisdom, so characteristic of 
 her, Esther merely expressed her affection for 
 him, though this was difficult for her, reserved 
 creature that she was. Angelica, however, was 
 more nai've, more candid, less accustomed to 
 his ways ; and she said more, whenever she felt 
 confident of her words ; but she made mistakes, 
 often. 
 
 " She was all unworthy," said Angelica, ris- 
 ing to a height of indignation quite unusual 
 with her. 
 
 And Monsieur Naudie responded : " She 
 was my wife." Then his thought outran his 
 words, and he reflected, " And I loved her so ; 
 and perhaps do still." 
 
 " You have right and justice and conscience 
 entirely on your side," said his sister. 
 
 He replied sadly, " I shall have public 
 opinion against me." 
 
 334 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Angelica found it hard to believe that ; but 
 Monsieur Naudie knew which way people would 
 lean ; and it was like an additional wound to 
 his heart to realize, as he did, that calumny- 
 would point her finger at him, and his name 
 would be dragged in the mud by the very 
 people who had great power over his life, yet 
 who would carelessly or wilfully judge him 
 and condemn him and scorn him. 
 
 " We cannot remain here," said he. " And 
 what is to be done ? It seems best to go away, 
 and seek some other parish. Yet everywhere 
 this evil slander will follow me. Methinks I 
 can hear them now, — these new parishioners 
 in the East, or in the North, over whom I 
 may be placed. ' Pastor Naudie ! Oh yes ! 
 Son of Abraham Naudie. He has been sent 
 to us because he could not remain longer at 
 La Rochelle ; there was some bad affair in 
 his family life.' Oh, may Heaven have pity 
 on me! " 
 
 It was a part of the proceedings that Mon- 
 sieur Naudie should have an interview with 
 Monsieur Defos, in order to " come to some 
 clear understanding " (as the ingenious euphem- 
 ism of the councillor-general put it) " regard- 
 ing the points raised." Accordingly, Monsieur 
 Naudie, still hoping against hope, for some 
 335 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 possible reconciliation, made his way at the 
 hour named to Monsieur Defos's office ; and 
 as he stood before that august personage, he 
 seemed like a criminal in the presence of a 
 judge. 
 
 Monsieur Defos gauged his visitor's state 
 of mind, with one glance. Then, seated firmly 
 in his revolving chair, he began in solemn 
 fashion : "It is a very serious matter which 
 brings you and me together to-day, my dear 
 sir." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie, with head bowed, as- 
 sented, " Very serious indeed." 
 
 Monsieur Defos made him wait a moment 
 or two, then cleared his throat, and said : " It 
 falls to me — that is to say, circumstances lay 
 the duty upon me — to try and find the best 
 solution possible for this very difficult problem. 
 There is one point upon which I am sure that 
 you and I will be in entire accord. The one 
 desire of both our hearts surely will be to avoid 
 all scandal as much as possible. Is that not 
 so?" 
 
 The clergyman did not reply immediately. 
 Perhaps he had expected some other line of 
 inquiry, some other solution ; for, alas, the 
 scandal was already abroad everjrwhere. He 
 pondered a moment, then gathered his forces, 
 336 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 and ventured to say, what he had hoped to 
 hear Monsieur Defos say : " Very true ! But 
 the thing which would be best of all, best for 
 both sides, and most desirable as an example to 
 the world, — this would be, would it not, a 
 reconciliation? I still ask. Monsieur Defos, 
 why my wife left me. It is true that she 
 spoke vaguely of a general incompatibility of 
 natures, and a lack of mutual sympathy in 
 tastes and ideas. I recognize the truth of the 
 claim ; and you are very well aware how little 
 is left of that piety and devoutness which first 
 drew us together. Do these reasons suffice to 
 justify the rash and momentous step which she 
 has taken ? Could not any slight misunder- 
 standings be removed, by a little reciprocal 
 care and an exercise of patience ? At this very 
 moment I find it impossible to believe that 
 she has actually left me, once for all. Cruel 
 as were her words to me, when we last talked 
 together, I am quite ready to overlook them. 
 Will you not say that to her, please, and try 
 to have her come back ? Oh, if she would 
 only return .... to-morrow ! Enter again 
 my house, her house, and never let any ques- 
 tion of separation again arise." 
 
 This very Christian solution of the problem, 
 which Monsieur Naudie found in his own 
 " 337 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 heart and religious faith, was precisely what 
 Monsieur Defos himself would have welcomed, 
 because of his veneration for propriety and 
 good order. But Jane, with wilful determina- 
 tion, had rejected any such solution ; and she 
 was supported by her aunt, whose claws had 
 enlarged the wound as much as possible, in the 
 brief time at her command; she now was as 
 insistent as was her niece, that no reconcilia- 
 tion should take place. 
 
 " Without any doubt, my dear pastor, this 
 solution, which you suggest, would be the one 
 approved by the best and soundest judges. It 
 would harmonize, better than any other course, 
 with your character and profession. Mutual 
 concessions and forgiveness ! How simple 
 and beautiful that would be ! Unhappily my 
 niece will not listen, for a moment, to such a 
 suggestion. She says that she has suffered 
 much ..." 
 
 " O righteous Heaven ! Suffered ? From 
 whom ? " 
 
 " I cannot judge between you, my dear sir. 
 In affairs of this sort there is always wrong on 
 both sides. Excuse me, then, from entering 
 upon any inquiry into your respective sorrows. 
 My task, I repeat, is to try and find some 
 remedy, after impartially weighing the circum- 
 338 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 stances, and also after considering the wishes 
 of my niece. Now her will is very decided. 
 Her mind is fixed on gaining a divorce. I 
 opposed this plan, as long as there was any 
 hope of a reconciliation. Now I have given 
 up this hope. There therefore remains a 
 choice between divorce and separation. Tak- 
 ing everything into account, I incline to the 
 view that the more radical of these measures 
 would be the better, and I ask you to take 
 notice that in the event of a divorce the ques- 
 tions of property are easier to manage." 
 
 Monsieur Naudie stood more erect. " These 
 questions of property ? I don't see any such 
 questions. I wish for nothing that belongs to 
 her." 
 
 " Yes, very well ! But remember your 
 children ! " 
 
 " Their self-respect, my dear sir, is of more 
 importance than their worldly welfare." 
 
 "But ..." 
 
 " No more on that subject, I beg ! And 
 leaving out all questions of property, why, then, 
 is a divorce desirable ? " 
 
 His old-time jealousy awoke. It aroused 
 
 suspicion of some secret understanding, some 
 
 evil plot, which would result in the transferral 
 
 to another man — quite in proper legal form, 
 
 339 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of course — of the woman whom he had so 
 deeply loved. Indeed, a sort of adultery 
 sanctioned by law ; and, this time, the minis- 
 ter rebelled. 
 
 " The divorce. Monsieur Defos, will bring 
 me dishonor ; for it will be pronounced against 
 me, not her, and, at the same time, it will 
 set her entirely free. Well, I have been weak ; 
 I have bent my back under burdens of which 
 you have no idea. Now it is over, I will 
 arise, I will protect myself." 
 
 He raised his voice, he ceased to measure 
 his words. Deep feeling convulsed his hag- 
 gard visage. 
 
 " Let us look at the matter calmly, my good 
 pastor ! " said Monsieur Defos, emphasizing 
 Monsieur Naudie's title sarcastically. " We 
 are here to talk reasonably, not to recriminate. 
 I agree with you, in a measure. Reconciliation 
 would be best. I give you my word of honor, 
 I have tried to effect that, but my niece was 
 obdurate. She has a strong will, as you know. 
 I have yielded to her, and it is in her name 
 that I now speak. She asks for a divorce, no 
 matter what I say to her. So there is the 
 plain fact in the case." 
 
 " I will not consent," said Monsieur Naudie. 
 
 " Then there is the suit at law." 
 340 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " There must be one, whether I consent or 
 not." 
 
 "Ah, but of a very different kind, my dear sir ! 
 It is one thing to obtain a divorce when both 
 parties petition for it, and it is a very different 
 thing when they struggle about it. A suit at 
 law, my dear pastor, — well, do you know what 
 that means? Your inmost heart opened be- 
 fore all eyes, your honor torn into shreds by 
 the attorneys ? " 
 
 " My life will bear inspection. I have no 
 fear about that." 
 
 " But think of the calumny ! It attacks you 
 always ; it undermines you. Already it has 
 accomplished so much, aided by circumstances, 
 that, as you know well, you will not be able 
 to remain at La Rochelle. What will this cal- 
 umny then become, when the speeches which 
 are now whispered cautiously, in secret places, 
 shall be uttered in full, clear tones on the streets 
 and in the homes ? You have children, daugh- 
 ters, and you are a minister of the gospel." 
 
 "This is outrageous, cruel, false. I have 
 nothing whatever for which to reproach my- 
 self." 
 
 "An ordinary man, it is true, in your place 
 would have little or nothing for which to re- 
 proach himself; but you are a clergyman. 
 341 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 Have you not made a great mistake in the 
 choice of a wife ? — I confess I shared in that 
 mistake, — but you made it, and for a man in 
 your position it becomes a fault, a sin. Look 
 into your own heart and reply to me ! Your 
 life is not yours alone ; it belongs, in fact, to the 
 little flock over which you are shepherd. And 
 they have the right to hold you to account ; 
 for you influence them by your deeds, quite as 
 much as by your words. And you may be 
 sure that people will expect more from you 
 than from an ordinary man. You have not 
 remained simply a minister of the gospel, but 
 you have joined in the affairs of the world; 
 you have taken a wife, you have become a 
 father. Why, then, should not the law deal 
 with you as with any ordinary man ? Remem- 
 ber, you would not, when I suggested it, have 
 recourse to law, to recover your rentals. Why, 
 then, should you have recourse to it to bring 
 you back your wife, and to protect your fire- 
 side, after you have been unable yourself to 
 protect it ? Why ask the law to interfere, with 
 all its array of attorneys and constables and 
 sherifi"s, especially in a case like this, where 
 moral suasion ought to have been enough, and 
 you have not had the strength of character to 
 make use of it ? Can you say that you have 
 342 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 nothing with which to reproach yourself? 
 More than that, I recall one of your sermons, 
 which you preached, upon serving two masters. 
 Well, then, allow me to ask you which you 
 have been serving, these last eighteen months. 
 And tell me if these concessions, which you 
 have been making to Mammon, are not your 
 fault ! If you had served the other master, — 
 I say it in all tenderness, — you would not 
 to-day be expiating the faults which you are 
 expiating." 
 
 Alas, they were harsh, cruel words, coming 
 from the lips of a man who knew all about the 
 compromises of life. Monsieur Naudie saw 
 very clearly their force. But, at the same 
 time, another voice spoke within him, — that 
 natural voice, common to all men, which gov- 
 erns the actions of men when they are drawn 
 into the vortex of strong human passions ; 
 and this voice rebelled, with all the strength 
 gained by imposition and injury through many 
 months, against this savage, remorseless hatred. 
 Whether ordinary man or minister of the gos- 
 pel, whether servant of God or of Mammon, 
 how could he bring himself to deliver up to a 
 successful rival, meekly and willingly, the wife 
 whom he had loved and cherished, whose 
 caresses were a tender memory, and whose 
 343 
 
Pastor Nau die's Young Wife 
 
 love was his dearest treas^ire ! This was the 
 voice to which he listened, as he stood there 
 leaning over toward Monsieur Defos, reveal- 
 ing by his tone of voice, even more than by his 
 exact words, the deadly wounds in his heart. 
 
 " Are you sure, sir," said he, " that you are 
 giving me the full measure of justice ? Is 
 there no hidden motive, no secret self-interest 
 behind your words ? Are you sure you are 
 not serving an unjust cause, and abetting a 
 wicked design? For — listen to me — why 
 should she seek a divorce ? For what end ? 
 Are you ignorant on that point ? " 
 
 Doubtless, at the time when Jane left her 
 husband's house. Monsieur Defos had con- 
 nected, in his mind, that departure with Henry's 
 confession to himself But the mechanical, 
 conventional character of his integrity had pre- 
 vented him from facing the truth, and had 
 made him listen to Jane's vehement protesta- 
 tions that his son had nothing whatever to do 
 with her decision. The suspicion now touched 
 him in his most sensitive fibre, namely, in his 
 inflated sense of his family's respectability. 
 He arose, slowly and deliberately, from his 
 chair ; and, standing erect, with face redden- 
 ing, he said : " My son, sir ? My son is not 
 at all the cause of this. My son is incapable 
 344 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of entering into any such plot as this. I give 
 you my word of honor for it. He has gone 
 away to regain his strength ; he will not re- 
 turn, to be a party to any such infamy. If he 
 could have entertained such a purpose, I would 
 certainly have known it. Moreover, nobody 
 can say that my interest in my niece has ever 
 been tainted by any selfish considerations. I 
 cannot allow any such suggestion of irregular 
 conduct in my house. So, if it is some sus- 
 picion of this sort which makes you hold back, 
 pause and reflect ! Reflect while there is time ! 
 You will agree with me, I think, that in a con- 
 dition of affairs like this, — they being such 
 that there is no possible hope of a reconcilia- 
 tion, — some decision must be reached at once, 
 some clear and final decision." 
 
 His convincing manner, his self-satisfied 
 honesty, had their influence upon Monsieur 
 Naudie, who could not find anything more to 
 say. 
 
 " I will reflect upon it," said he, " I will 
 reflect upon it." But, in his poor tortured 
 heart, he added, " What good will that do ? 
 What possible good ? I must submit to my 
 fate." 
 
 345 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE trouble in the Naudie family was the 
 theme on all lips. Comments and criti- 
 cisms were rife. They were like a swarm of 
 poisonous bees, whose evil buzzing was heard 
 everywhere. Questions, replies, insinuations, 
 explanations. " Who are their attorneys ? " 
 " What are the grounds for the suit ? " " In- 
 compatibility of natures ! that will be as good 
 a ground as any. It is general and very con- 
 venient." " Will he remain here ? Will he 
 marry his cousin ? And the property ! And 
 the sister, recently come from Montauban ! 
 And the children ! " 
 
 Thus the town-talk went on. Sometimes 
 people were heard to say that Monsieur Nau- 
 die ought to be dealt with severely ; sometimes 
 wicked calumnies pictured him as a creature 
 capable of every baseness. " He accepts the 
 divorce, meaning thereby a rent-roll of two 
 thousand dollars a year." 
 
 " Ah ! I have heard it placed as high as 
 twenty thousand." 
 
 " And she consents ? " 
 
 " She must." 
 
 346 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 " Well, money talks." 
 
 Thus the scandal spread, and grew larger 
 and more irritated. Thus the town threw its 
 web of infamous scandal around the Naudie 
 household. Negligences and insults and sins 
 were talked about openly ; base, foul words 
 were rolled, like sweet morsels, under the 
 tongues of respectable people, who felt entirely 
 satisfied with their highly moral lives, because, 
 forsooth, they had never stolen a farthing, or 
 killed a fly. 
 
 Bertha and Esther dared not go out, be- 
 cause of the bold looks that followed them, 
 and the insulting words which they heard 
 around them. At first they had rejoiced over 
 their deliverance from their enemy ; but they 
 saw the whole situation more justly now. 
 Jane's departure troubled them more than 
 her presence had done. A certain amount 
 of disgrace was somehow transferred to them, 
 to which they submitted, without quite under- 
 standing it. Their father's gloomy mood in- 
 fected them also, as an atmosphere of mourn- 
 ing will often do. In fact, the house would 
 have been a wretched scene of desolation, had 
 it not been for Angelica. Thoroughly ac- 
 customed, as she was, to wait upon the childish 
 needs of her aged father, she now found new 
 347 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 channels for an expression of the same old 
 habitual watchfulness and self-sacrifice. The 
 sweet influence, which emanated from her 
 peaceful heart, chased away the bitter moods 
 in the hearts around her. In a few days she 
 had tamed Bertha, conquered Abraham, gained 
 Zelia's adoration, and learned how to win her 
 way into Esther's reserved nature. Her purity 
 was like a dike, staying the flood of calumnies 
 which often poured over the threshold, behind 
 some tactless or malicious visitor. She stood 
 firm in her belief that a day would come when 
 justice would be done to the innocent. " They 
 will subside into silence," she said to her 
 brother, when he confided to her his unhappi- 
 ness and his plans, " and they will admit that 
 they have judged wrongly." 
 
 Angelica was quite right in her view. A 
 reversion took place in public opinion later — 
 perhaps all too late — when the resolution, 
 which Monsieur Naudie had reached after 
 severe struggles, was made known. He had 
 decided to become a missionary, and go to 
 Africa. 
 
 What surprise there was ! And what ingen- 
 ious suppositions arose, as each person tried to 
 explain this new development, in his own 
 way 1 There was much diversity, however, 
 348 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 among these speculations ; and this was by no 
 means strange, for, in order to understand a 
 decision so much at variance with the usual out- 
 come of life's dramas, it would have been 
 necessary to read the characters graven in the 
 very bottom of Monsieur Naudie's anguished 
 heart. For this man was tossed about on the 
 waves of many diverse emotions. There were 
 his affections, as a father; and there was the 
 harrowing consciousness of his wife's deceit- 
 fulness ; and the regrets which always made 
 him cringe before his own conscience. There 
 was the ardent hope of redeeming himself, 
 in the eyes of the world, for his vacillations 
 of soul and body ; and perhaps, at bottom, he 
 felt a little of that eager martyr-spirit, which 
 could lead him to face the arrows of savages, 
 with their poisons, less cruel indeed than those 
 which waste away the soul without destroying 
 the body. 
 
 To understand the situation and Monsieur 
 Naudie's decision, a person would have needed 
 to know the terror which overwhelmed the 
 children, as their father's purpose was revealed 
 to them, and to have heard Angelica's gentle 
 voice, as she said : " I will be with you, to take 
 care of you. Let your father obey the voice 
 of his conscience ! It never deceives. And 
 349 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 who can know how to console, unless he has 
 suffered ? " 
 
 There, also, was the exclamation of little 
 Abraham, impulsive, affectionate, " I will go 
 away with you." A cry of joy from his 
 adventurous young soul, shut up in a routine 
 of life which chafed him continually, a cry of 
 hope, as he thought of that far-away country, 
 which offered as much to his youthful audacity 
 as to his father's despair. 
 
 Entirely in ignorance of this interior family- 
 life, everybody — no matter how loudly and 
 boldly he had lifted his voice in the discord- 
 ant chorus of condemnation — was now com- 
 pelled to acquiesce in the decision which had 
 been reached. 
 
 We rarely appreciate the men who conse- 
 crate themselves to great deeds. Their springs 
 of action usually are hidden from us. We fail 
 to understand how the heroic idea is born in 
 them, grows, and culnunates. But even if the 
 mystery of the heroic eludes us, we cannot 
 avoid the thrill which comes to us, as its fhiit 
 appears in full view of all men. Whenever a 
 brother-man whom we have hastily misjudged, 
 forswears all that seems to us worth having 
 in life, and embraces dangers, privations, death, 
 then our admiration rises and crowns him one 
 35° 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 of the princes of mankind. Before the man 
 who sacrifices himself for country, race, or 
 religion, we humbly bow. An inner voice 
 tells us that he has chosen the path of right- 
 eousness. We may have shared neither his 
 beliefs nor his illusions, we may not have 
 possessed either his virtue or his valor; per- 
 haps, also, we may not have committed any 
 of the sins for which he seeks to atone ; 
 but what matters it, since light has come to 
 him, since his path of duty is clear ! And 
 while we continue our existence among the 
 common herd, cropping a meagre herbage, 
 but avoiding the brambles, he rises up, catches 
 visions of other horizons, and passes beyond 
 our ken. 
 
 It was with some such feeling as this, faintly 
 pulsating in their hearts, that a great con- 
 gregation came together, one Sunday, Catho- 
 lics, atheists, free-thinkers, and others, to 
 listen to Monsieur Naudie's farewell sermon. 
 For the last time the pastor climbed the pulpit 
 steps, and seated himself, and they realized 
 that his noble countenance never would appear 
 there again. And, in the eyes which were 
 focussed upon him, there was something more 
 than the cavilling curiosity which had dogged 
 his steps so long. Calmly and with dignity he 
 3SI 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 led them in the offices of devotion which pre- 
 ceded the sermon. The attention of all was 
 fixed, not on the liturgy, the psalms, the 
 prayers, but on his pale face, tranquil against 
 the green background of the pulpit ; it wan- 
 dered also to the five forms who were to be 
 seen in their accustomed place in their pew ; 
 and here and there a whispered consultation 
 took place. "The sister has an air of great 
 courage . . . the eldest is weeping. . . . See 
 the little one ! She is putting her handker- 
 chief to her eyes. And the son ! is it really 
 true that he is going with his father ? " 
 
 Reflections like these were exchanged among 
 the pews, during the earlier part of the service, 
 great care being taken to speak in subdued 
 whispers, and with considerable show of strict 
 attention to the service. 
 
 Then there was the closest attention, as 
 Monsieur Naudie announced his text: "A 
 portion of the eighth verse of the first chapter 
 of the Acts of the Apostles, . . . Te shall be 
 witnesses unto me, both in Jerusalem, and in all 
 Judosa, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost 
 ■parts of the earth" 
 
 The preacher's little mannerisms faded, and 
 his oddities of rhetoric disappeared, as soon as 
 he had finished his exordium. Up to this 
 352 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 point he dealt, in the customary way, with the 
 general duties devolving upon messengers of 
 the Word. But soon leaving this style of 
 address, he began to speak more freely, as man 
 to men, regarding the truths which he held 
 closely at heart. His discourse was by no 
 means a confession, and still less an apology. 
 It was a plain, simple lesson upon life ; such as 
 a person might be expected to give, who like 
 himself was passing out from a sad and bitter 
 experience. He spoke of that vain search for 
 happiness, which sometimes scatters among the 
 thorny paths of the world those who are 
 naturally drawn toward God, and ought to 
 find their greatest joy in him ; he spoke of the 
 serious mistake which such people made, and 
 of the deep wounds which such mistakes 
 brought them. 
 
 Entering thus into the deeper phases of his 
 subject, he dwelt upon the sin of hypocrisy, 
 and the evil effects of the habit of compromise, 
 which keeps men hanging between heaven 
 and earth, — nearer earth than heaven, — until 
 sometimes a clear flash of light comes to them, 
 as it did to Saul of Tarsus, and, while it 
 blinds them, also enlightens them. In this 
 flash of illumination, mingling salvation with 
 sorrow, was manifested the divine wisdom and 
 '3 353 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 goodness. For, such is the peculiar quality of 
 faith, that it ends by blessing the hand which 
 has smitten it^ and transforms the venom, con- 
 cealed in its deepest wounds, into a balm of 
 healing. 
 
 " Thus it is," said he, now returning to his 
 text and to his own situation, " that one must 
 not think to give only a half to the Master 
 whom he serves. For a long time his voice 
 has spoken to me, and I have not been willing 
 to listen to it; and, in order that my ears 
 should be unstopped, it has been necessary 
 that his hand should be laid heavily upon me. 
 It is only after having passed through the 
 valley of the shadow of death, that I am able 
 to reply to him, ' Master, here am I, thy ser- 
 vant is ready and waiting.' But what freedom 
 from all bonds, brethren, in being able thus to 
 speak these words ! What comfort, in being 
 delivered from the bondage of self, and of 
 knowing that one belongs wholly to him, that 
 in him are all one's hopes ! What joy in being 
 able to exclaim, with the Psalmist, 'Have 
 mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am weak. O Lord, 
 heal me, for my bones are vexed; ' and then those 
 other words, '/ laid me down, and slept; I 
 awaked, for the Lord sustained me.' Having 
 travelled the road which leads from the cry of 
 354 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 despair to the cry of hope, I now place in 
 God's hands, with entire trust, the remainder 
 of my own life, and the lives of those who are 
 a thousand times dearer to me than aught else 
 on earth. Now I am about to carry his name 
 to those who know him not ; I am going to 
 teach them that he is the source of all consola- 
 tion, and that he is the seat and source of 
 truth. Join with me, brethren, in asking his 
 blessing on the whitening harvest fields, 
 and on the humble husbandman who goes to 
 labor in them ! " 
 
 His voice never wavered for an instant. 
 He continued firm and self-controlled, ending 
 with a fervent prayer. When he had seated 
 himself, after giving out the number of the 
 closing hymn, the whole congregation, silent 
 and motionless until then, showed signs of 
 deep emotion. The organ played the hymn 
 through slowly, solemnly ; and little Zelia 
 was seen to be in tears, holding out her hands 
 toward her father ; while Esther and Angelica 
 leaned over her, and tried to comfort her. 
 Then the choir sang, Great God, we bless 
 thee . . , 
 
 Monsieur Naudie had opened his psalm- 
 book, and tried to sing with the others ; but 
 the book fell from his hand. His glance had 
 355 
 
Pastor Naudie's Young Wife 
 
 fallen upon that little group of desolate beings, 
 so dear to him, yet whom he would soon leave 
 forever. He bent forward upon the pulpit ; 
 he leaned tenderly over toward them, and great 
 tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 THE END 
 
 356 
 
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