The Will

I knew this tall young man who was called Rene de Bcrarneval. He was very agreeable in conipany, although a trifle sad, seeniing to dislite everything, very skeptical - a formal and biting skepticism - clever especially in laying bare in one word worldly hypocrisies. He of ten repeated, ' ' There are no virtuous men - or at least they are only relatively températe. ' ' He had two brothers whom he did not visit, the MM. de Courcils. On account of their different ñames I believed hini the offspring of a second marriage. I had been told on several occasions that a strange story had happened in this family, but no details had been given me. This man being entirely agreeable to me, we were soon good friends. One evening, after I had dined with him, I accidentally asked hini, "Were you the offspring of your mother' first or second maiTiage?" I saw hini turn slightly pale, then blush, and he remained some seconds without speaking, visibly einbarrassed. Then he sniiled in a sweet and melancholy manner which was peculiar to hini and said: "My dear friend, if it does not tire you, I will give you some singular details of niy parentage. I know you for an intelligent man. I do not theref ore fear your friendship for me will suffer, and if it should suffer I should no longer care to have you for a friend. "My mother, Mme. de Courcils, was a poor, timid little woinan, whom her husband had married for her fortune. Her whcle life was a martyrdom. Affectionr.te, fearful, delicate, she was ill treated without intermission by him who shculd have been my father, one of those churls who are called countiy gentlemen. After they had been married a month he lived with a servant. He had besides for niistresses the wives and daughters of his tenants. This did not prevent his wife from having two children ; including myself , three should be reckoned. My mother said nothing. She lived in that ever noisy house like those little mice that slip in and out under the furniture. Effacing herself, flying away, trembling, she looked at people with her clear, restless eyes, which, always in motion, looked scared with the fear that never left them. She was still pretty, very pretty - very f aii with a grayish fainiess, a timid fairness, as if her hair had faded a little f rom her incessant fear. "Among the frieiids of M. de Courcils who carne frequently to the castle was au old cavalry officer, a widower, a formidable man, tender and violent, capable of the most energetic resolves - M. de Bourneval, whoso name I bear. He was a tall, spare fellow, with a heavy black mustache. I resemble him very rnuch. This man had read and thought far more than those of his class. Ris great-grandmother had been a lover of Jean Jacques Rousseau, and it was said that he had inherited something from this connection of his ancestress. He knew by heart the 'Social Contract, ' the 'New Heloise' and all those philosophical books which have prepared beforehand the future overthrow of our ancient customs, of our prejudices, our obsolete laws, our foolish moráis. ' 'He loved ïny mother, it appeared, and was loved by her. This affair was kept so secret that no one suspected it. The poor woman, sad and abandoned, clung to him desperately and imbibed all his habits of thought, theories of Eree opinión, boldness of independent love ; but, as she was so timid that she never dared speak loudly, all of it was driven back, condensed, pressed into tier heart, which was never opened. "My two brothers were harsh toward her, like my f ather- did not caress her - and, accustomed to seeing that she did not count f or anything in the house, reated her ahnost like a servant. "I was the only one cf her sons who really loved her and whoin she loved. "She died. I was theu 18. I ought ;o add, in order that you ïnay understand what is to follo-w, that, by lega] advice, her husband had been providod for, and she had retaiued her own separate estáte, having, thaiiks to the artiices of the law and the intelligent áevotion of a notaiy, preserved the right ■o make her will as she pleased. "We were, therefore, infoi'nied by ;his notary fchat a will existed and invited to be present at its reading. "I recall it as if it were yesterday. t was a grand, dramatic, burlcsque, niprising scene, called forth by the )ostliumous revolt of the dead wonian, jy this ciy of liberty, this claim from ;he depth of the grave of this martyr rushed by oiir moráis during her life. Trom her shut coflfin she threw a depaii'ing ajjpeaJ toward independenoe. "He who believed himself my faiier, a stout, plethoric man, who put no in minó óf a butcher, and my ets, (rwo robnst fellows oí 20 and 22, Waited tranquilly on their seats. M. de Bourneval, wlio was invited to be present, entered and placed bimself behind nie. His frook ccaf was buttoned tightly. He was very palé, and he of ten nibbled his mtistache, now a little grizzled. He doubtless expected what was coming- "1)n notary doublé locked the door and. commenced the reading, af ter haviug in our presence brokeu the red wax seal of the envelope, of whose contents he was ignoran t. ' ' Suddenly my friend was silent, rose and took from his seeretary an old paper, -anfolded it, kissed it for a long time and resuined. "Here is the last vill of my dearly loved inother: " 'I, the undersigued, Anne-Catherine Genevieve Mathilde de Croixluce, lawful wife of -Jean Leopold Joseph Gontrau de Courcils, being of sound mind and body, do hereby make my last will. " 'I ask forgivraiess of God above, and then of my dear son Rene, for what I am now going to do. I think my Dhild is stout hearted enough to underïtand and to f orgive me. I have suffered all my lif e. I was married from considerations of advantage and was af terward despised, disregarded, oppressed and deceived uiiceasingly by my husband. " 'I f orgive him, but I owe him nothing. " 'My eider sons have not loved me, have not caressed me, have scarcely treated me like a mother. " 'I have been to them during my lif e all I should have been ; af ter my death I no longer owe them anything. The ties of blood do not continue without the constant, sacred affection of each day. An ungrateful son is less than a stranger. He is a culprit, for he has not the right to be indifferent to his mother. " 'I have always' trembled before mankind, before their iniquitous laws, their inhuman customs, their infamous prejudices. Before God, I no longer fear. Dead, I throw away from me that shameful hypocrisy; I dare to utter niy thoughts and to openly avow the secrets of my heart. " 'Therefore I leave iu trust the whole of that part of my fortune o: which the law perniits me to dispose to my dearly loved lover, Pierre Germer Sinion de Bourneval, afterward to revert to our dear son Rene. ' (This will has been drawn up in addition, iu a more formal ínanner, by a notaiy. ) ' ' 'And before the Suprerne Judge, who hears me, I declare that I should have cursed heaven and my existence if I had not f ound the deep, devoted, tender, unshaken affection of my lover, if I had not learned in his arms that the Creator has made human beings to love, to sustain and to console each otlier and to weep tcgether in hours of bitterness. " 'My two eldest sons are the childreu of M. de Courcils. Rene alone owes his existence to M. de Boumeval. I pray the Ruler of mankind and their destinies to place the father and sou above social prejudices, to niake them love each other until their death, and love me still in my grave. ' ' ' Such are my last thoughts and my last desire. ' ' ' BI. de Courcils had risen. He cried, 'That is the will of a mad wonian.' Then M. de Bourneval stepped forward and declared in a loud and decisive voice: 'I, Sim on de Bourneval, declare that this writing contains only the strict truth. I am ready to prove it by letters in my possession. ' "Then M. de Courcils walked toward him. I thought they would seize each other by the collar. There they stood, both tall, the one stout, the other spare, quivering. The husband of my mother stammeringly articulated, 'You are a villain!' The other said, in a dry, vigorons tone : ' We will meet in another place, monsieur. I should have affronted and provoked you a long tiine ago if I had not valued above all else the tranquillity during her life of the poor wcrnan whom you have made to suffer so much. ' "Then he turned toward me: 'You are my sou. Will you come with me? Í have not the right to take you away, toit I will take you if you wish to accompany me. ' "I pressed his hand without auswering. Indeed, I was alniost overeóme. "Two days later M. de Boumeval killed M. de Courcils in a duel. My brothers, afraid of a frightful scandal, kept silence. I transferred to them and they accept cd their share of the. fortune left by my mother. ' ' I took the name of my true father, renouncing that which the law gave and which was not mine. "M. de' Boumeval died five years ago. I have not yet found consolation f or my grief. ' ' He rose, took several steps, and, placing himself in front of me, said: "Well, I say that my mother's will was one of the most beautiful, most loyal, grandest things a woman coulj accomplish. Is not that your opinión?" I stretched out both hands to him,