'If it were not for Mongenod,' I used to say to myself, 'I might have married.If I had never known him I should not be obliged to live in such privation.' But then, again, there were other times when I said, 'Perhaps the unfortunate fellow has met with ill luck over there.' In 1806, at a time when I found my life particularly hard to bear, Iwrote him a long letter, which I sent by way of Holland.I received no answer.I waited three years, placing all my hopes on that answer.At last I resigned myself to my life.To the five hundred francs Ireceived from the Funds I now added twelve hundred from the Mont-de-piete (for they raised my salary), and five hundred which I obtained from Monsieur Cesar Birotteau, perfumer, for keeping his books in the evening.Thus, not only did I manage to get along comfortably, but Ilaid by eight hundred francs a year.At the beginning of 1814 Iinvested nine thousand francs of my savings at forty francs in the Funds, and thus I was sure of sixteen hundred francs a year for my old age.By that time I had fifteen hundred a year from the Mont-de-piete, six hundred for my book-keeping, sixteen hundred from the Funds; in all, three thousand seven hundred francs a year.I took a lodging in the rue de Seine, and lived a little better.My place had brought me into relations with many unfortunates.For the last twelve years I had known better than any man whatsoever the misery of the poor.Once or twice I had been able to do a real service.I felt a vivid pleasure when I found that out of ten persons relieved, one or two households had been put on their feet.It came into my mind that benevolence ought not to consist in throwing money to those who suffered.'Doing charity,' to use that common expression, seemed to me too often a premium offered to crime.I began to study the question.I was then fifty years of age, and my life was nearly over.'Of what good am I?'
thought I.'To whom can I leave my savings? When I have furnished my rooms handsomely, and found a good cook, and made my life suitable in all respects, what then?--how shall I employ my time?' Eleven years of revolution, and fifteen years of poverty, had, as I may say, eaten up the most precious parts of my life,--used it up in sterile toil for my own individual preservation.No man at the age of fifty could spring from that obscure, repressed condition to a brilliant future; but every man could be of use.I understood by this time that watchful care and wise counsels have tenfold greater value than money given;for the poor, above all things, need a guide, if only in the labor they do for others, for speculators are never lacking to take advantage of them.Here I saw before me both an end and an occupation, not to speak of the exquisite enjoyments obtained by playing in a miniature way the role of Providence.""And to-day you play it in a grand way, do you not?" asked Godefroid, eagerly.
"Ah! you want to know everything," said the old man."No, no! Would you believe it," he continued after this interruption, "the smallness of my means to do the work I now desired to do brought back the thought of Mongenod.'If it were not for Mongenod,' I kept saying to myself, 'I could do so much more.If a dishonest man had not deprived me of fifteen hundred francs a year I could save this or that poor family.' Excusing my own impotence by accusing another, I felt that the miseries of those to whom I could offer nothing but words of consolation were a curse upon Mongenod.That thought soothed my heart.
One morning, in January, 1816, my housekeeper announced,--whom do you suppose?--Mongenod! Monsieur Mongenod! And whom do you think I saw enter my room? The beautiful young woman I had once seen,--only now she was thirty-six years old,--followed by her three children and Mongenod.He looked younger than when he went away; for prosperity and happiness do shed a halo round their favorites.Thin, pale, yellow, shrivelled, when I last saw him, he was now plump, sleek, rosy as a prebendary, and well dressed.He flung himself into my arms.Feeling, perhaps, that I received him coldly, his first words were: 'Friend, Icould not come sooner.The ocean was not free to passenger ships till 1815; then it took me a year to close up my business and realize my property.I have succeeded, my friend.When I received your letter in 1806, I started in a Dutch vessel to bring you myself a little fortune; but the union of Holland with the French Empire caused the vessel to be taken by the English and sent to Jamaica, from which island I escaped by mere chance.When I reached New York I found I was a victim to the bankruptcy of others.In my absence my poor Charlotte had not been able to protect herself against schemers.I was therefore forced to build up once more the edifice of my fortunes.However, it is all done now, and here we are.By the way those children are looking at you, you must be aware that we have often talked to them of their father's benefactor.' 'Oh, yes, yes, monsieur!' said the beautiful Mongenod, 'we have never passed a single day without remembering you.Your share has been set aside in all our affairs.We have looked forward eagerly to the happiness we now have in returning to you your fortune, not thinking for a moment that the payment of these just dues can ever wipe out our debt of gratitude.' With those words Madame Mongenod held out to me that magnificent box you see over there, in which were one hundred and fifty notes of a thousand francs each."The old man paused an instant as if to dwell on that moment; then he went on:--"Mongenod looked at me fixedly and said: 'My poor Alain, you have suffered, I know; but we did divine your sufferings; we did try every means to send the money to you, and failed in every attempt.You told me you could not marry,--that I had prevented it.But here is our eldest daughter; she has been brought up in the thought of becoming your wife, and she will have a dowry of five hundred thousand francs.'