AT eight o’clock that evening I called upon M. Louis de Franchi, to inquire whether he had anything to confide1 to me. But he begged me to wait till next morning, saying:
“The night will bring counsel with it.”
Next morning, therefore, instead of calling at eight, which would have given us plenty of time to go to the meeting, I called at half-past seven.
Louis was already writing in his study.
He looked up as I entered, and I noticed how very pale he was.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I am writing to my mother. You will find the morning papers there; if you can amuse yourself with them you will see a charming feuilleton by M. Mèry in the Presse.”
I took the paper thus indicated, and contrasted the livid pallor of the speaker with his calm and sweet voice.
I endeavoured to read, but I could not fix my attention, the letters brought no meaning with them.
In about five minutes Louis said,
“There, I have finished.” And he rang for his valet.
“Joseph,” said he, “I am at home to no one, not even to the Baron2 Giordano. If he calls, ask him to wait in the salon3. I wish to be alone with this gentlemen for ten minutes.”
The valet shut the door and disappeared.
“Now, my dear Alexander, listen. Giordano is a Corsican, and has Corsican ideas. I cannot, therefore, confide all I desire to him. I will ask him to keep the secret, that’s all. But as regards yourself, I wish you, if you will permit me, to request that you will promise to observe my instructions.”
“Certainly. Is not that the duty of a second?”
“A duty more real than you imagine, for you can save our family a second misfortune if you will.”
“A second misfortune!” I exclaimed.
“Wait. Read this letter.”
I took the letter addressed to Madame de Franchi, and read as follows, with growing astonishment4:—
“MY DEAREST MOTHER,—
“If I did not know that you possessed5 Spartan6 fortitude7 allied8 with Christian9 submission10, I would have used means to prepare you for the blow in store for you—for when you receive this letter you will have but one son!
“Lucien, my dear brother, love our mother for both in future.
“For some time I have been suffering from brain fever. I paid no attention to the premonitory symptoms—the doctor came too late. Darling mother, there is no hope for me now. I cannot be saved but by a miracle, and what right have I to suppose that Providence11 will work a miracle on my behalf?
“I am writing to you in a lucid12 interval13. If I die, this letter will be posted immediately after my death; for in the selfishness of my love for you I wish that you should know that I am dead without regretting anything in the world except your tenderness and my brother’s.
“Adieu, mother!
“Do not weep for me. It is the soul that lives, not the body, and when the latter perishes the former will still live and love you.
“Adieu, Lucien! Never leave our mother; and remember that she has you only to look to now.
“Your Son,
“Your Brother,
“LOUIS DE FRANCHI.”
When I had finished the letter I turned to the writer and said—
“Well, and what does this mean?”
“Do you not understand?” he said.
“No!”
“I am going to be shot at ten minutes past nine.”
“You are going to be shot?”
“Yes.”
“You are mad! Why, what has put such an idea into your head?”
“I am not mad, my dear friend. I have been warned—that’s all.”
“Warned! By whom?”
“My brother has already told you, I think, that the male members of our family enjoy a singular privilege?”
“True,” I replied, shuddering14, in spite of myself. “He spoke15 to me about apparitions16.”
“Quite so. Well, then, my father appeared to me[Pg 104] last night. That is why you find me so pallid17. The sight of the dead pales the living!”
I gazed at him with astonishment, not unmixed with terror.
“You saw your father last night, you say?”
“Yes.”
“And he spoke to you?”
“He announced my death!”
“Oh, it was some terrible dream!”
“It was a terrible reality.”
“You were asleep, my friend.”
“I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?”
I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart I did believe in the possibilit............