Yesterday evening I returned to Stephane by the dormer window and the lofts; the journey took me but twenty minutes.There was a slight wind, and I was glad to have nothing to do with the iron corbel.Arriving at ten o'clock I returned half an hour after midnight.On leaving the young man, I felt terrified and overjoyed at the same time,--frightened at the impulsive ardor of his temperament and at the efforts it will cost me to moderate his impetuosity; but overjoyed, astonished at the quickness and grasp of his mind, at his vivid imagination, and the truly Slavonian flexibility of his naturally happy disposition.It is certain that the sad and barren existence he has led for years would have shattered the energies of a soul less finely tempered than his; the vigor and elasticity of his temperament have saved him.But Iarrived just in time, for he confessed to me that the idea of suicide had taken possession of him since that unlucky escapade punished by fifteen hours' imprisonment.
"My first attempt was unfortunate," said he, "but I was resolved to try again; I had sounded the ford; another time I should have crossed the stream."I hastened to turn the conversation, especially as he was not in the humor to weary himself with such a gloomy subject.How happy he appeared to see me again; how his joy expressed itself upon his ingenuous face, and how speaking were his looks! We occupied ourselves at first with the language of signs.Nothing escaped his eager intellect; he complained only of my slow explanations.
"I understand, I understand," he would cry; "something else, my dear sir, something else, I'm not a fool."I certainly had no idea of such quickness of apprehension."The Slavonians learn quickly," said I, "and forget quickly too."To prove the contrary, he answered me by signs:
"You are an impertinent fellow."
I was confounded.Then all at once:
"Extraordinary man," said, he, with a gravity which made me smile, "tell me a little of your life.""Extraordinary I am not at all," said I.
"And I affirm," answered he, "that humanity is composed of tyrants, valets, and a single and only Gilbert.""Nonsense! Gilberts are abundant."
"There is but one, there is but one," cried he, with a fire and energy that enchanted me.
I must own I am not sorry that for the time being he looks upon me as an exceptional being; for it is well to keep him a little in awe of me.To satisfy him I gave him the history of my youth.This time he reproached me for being too brief, and not going enough into detail.
As his questions were inexhaustible, I said: "After today do not let us waste our time upon this subject.Besides, the top of the basket shows the best that's in it.""There may perhaps be something to hide from me?""No; but I will confess that I do not like to talk about myself too much.I get tired of it very soon.""What?" said he, in a tone of reproach, "are we not here to talk endlessly about you, me, us?""Certainly, and our favorite occupation will be to entertain ourselves with ourselves; but to render this pastime more delightful, it will be well for us to occupy ourselves sometimes with something else.""With something else? With what?"
"With that which is not ourselves."
"And what do I care for anything which is neither you nor me?""But at all events you sometimes work, you read, you study?""At Martinique, Father Alexis gave me two or three hours of lessons every day.He taught me history, geography, and among other stuff of the same kind, the inconceivable merits and the superhuman perfections of his eternal Panselinos.The dissertations of this spiritual schoolmaster diverted me very little, as you may well suppose, and I was furious that in spite of myself his tiresome verbiage rooted itself in my memory, which is the most tenacious in the world.""And did he continue his instructions to you?""After our return to Europe, my father ordered him to teach me nothing more but the catechism.He said it was the only study my silly brain was fit for.""So for three years you have passed your days in absolute idleness.""Not at all; I have always been occupied from morning till night.""And how?"
"In sitting down, in getting up, in sitting down again, in pacing the length and breadth of my room, in gaping at the crows, in counting the squares of these flagstones, and the tiles of the little roof, in looking at the iron corbel and the water-spout on top of it, in watching the clouds sailing through the empty air, and then in lying down there in that recess of the wall, to rest quiet, with my eyes closed, ruminating over the problem of my destiny, asking myself what I could have done to God, that he chastised me so cruelly, recalling my past sufferings, enjoying in advance my sufferings to come, weeping and dreaming, dreaming and weeping, until overcome with lassitude and exhaustion I ended by falling asleep; or else, driven to desperation by weariness, I ran down to Ivan's lodging, and there gave vent to my scorn, fury, and despair, at the top of my lungs."These words, pronounced in a tone breathing all the bitterness of his soul, troubled me deeply.I trembled to think of this desolate child, whose griefs were incessantly augmented by solitude and idleness, of that soul defenselessly abandoned to its gloomy reveries, of that poor heart maddened, and pouncing upon itself as upon a prey; self-devouring, constantly reopening his wounds and inflaming them, without work or study to divert him a single instant from his monotonous torment.Oh! Count Kostia, how refined is your hatred!
"I have an idea," I said at last."You love flowers and painting.
Paint an herbarium."
"What's that?"
"See this large paper.You will paint on it, in water colors, a collection of all the flowers of this region, of all those, at least, that you may find in your walks.If you don't know their names, I will teach them to you, or we will seek for them together.""Provided that books take no part in it."
