CHAPTER XXVII
THE BLIND MAN'S GRIEF
Monsieur Vulfran advertised in the principal newspapers of Calcutta,Dacca, Bombay and London for his son. He offered a reward of fortypounds to anyone who could furnish any information, however slight itmight be, about Edmond Paindavoine. The information must, however, beauthentic. Not wishing to give his own address, which might have broughtto him all sorts of correspondence more or less dishonest, he put thematter into the hands of his banker at Amiens.
Numerous letters were received, but very few were serious; the greaternumber came from detectives who guaranteed to find the person they weresearching for if the expenses for the first steps necessary could besent them. Other letters promised everything without any foundationwhatever upon which they based their promises. Others related eventsthat had occurred five, ten, twelve years previous; no one kept to thetime stated in the advertisement, that was the last three years.
Perrine read or translated all these letters for the blind man. He wouldnot be discouraged at the meagre indications sent him.
"It is only by continued advertising that we shall get results," hesaid always. Then again he advertised.
Finally, one day a letter from Bosnia gave them some information whichmight lead to something. It was written in bad English, and stated thatif the advertiser would place the forty pounds promised with a banker atSerajevo the writer would furnish authentic information concerning M.Edmond Paindavoine going back to the month of November of the precedingyear. If this proposition was acceptable, the reply was to be sent to N.917, General Delivery, Serajevo.
This letter seemed to give M. Vulfran so much relief and joy that it wasa confession of what his fears had been.
For the first time since he had commenced his investigations, he spokeof his son to his two nephews and Talouel.
"I am delighted to tell you that at last I have news of my son," hesaid. "He was in Bosnia last November."
There was great excitement as the news was spread through the varioustowns and villages. As usual under such circumstances, it wasexaggerated.
"M. Edmond is coming back. He'll be home shortly," went from one toanother.
"It's not possible!" cried some.
"If you don't believe it," they were told, "you've only to look atTalouel's face and M. Vulfran's nephews."
Yet there were some who would not believe that the exile would return.The old man had been too hard on him. He had not deserved to be sentaway to India because he had made a few debts. His own family had casthim aside, so he had a little family of his own out in India. Why shouldhe come back? And then, even if he was in Bosnia or Turkey, that was notto say that he was on his way to Maraucourt. Coming from India toFrance, why should he have to go to Bosnia? It was not on the route.
This remark came from Bendit, who, with his English coolheadedness,looked at things only from a practical standpoint, in which sentimentplayed no part. He thought that just because everyone wished for the sonand heir to return, it was not enough to bring him back. The Frenchcould wish a thing and believe it, but he was English, he was, and hewould not believe that he was coming back until he saw him there withhis own eyes!
Day by day the blind man grew more impatient to see his son. Perrinecould not bear to hear him talk of his return as a certainty. Many timesshe tried to tell him that he might be disappointed. One day, when shecould bear it no longer, she begged him in her sweet voice not to counttoo much upon seeing his son for fear something might still keep himaway.
The blind man asked her what she meant.
"It is so terrible to hear the worst when one has been expecting thebest," she said brokenly. "If I say this it is because that is just whathappened to me. We had thought and hoped so much when my father was illthat he would get better, but we lost him, and poor mama and I did notknow how to bear it. We would not think that he might die."
"Ah, but my boy is alive, and he will be here soon. He will come back tome very soon," said the old man in a firm voice.
The next day the banker from Amiens called at the factory. He was met atthe steps by Talouel, who did all in his power to get the firstinformation which he knew the banker was bringing. At first his attitudewas very obsequious, but when he saw that his advances were repulsed,and that the visitor insisted upon seeing his employer at once, hepointed rudely in the direction of M. Vulfran's office and said:
"You will find him over there in that room," and then turned and wentoff with his hands in his pockets.
The banker knocked on the door indicated.
"Come in," called out M. Vulfran, in answer to his knock.
"What, you ... you at Maraucourt!" he exclaimed when he saw his visitor.
"Yes, I had some business to attend to at Picquigny, and I came on hereto bring you some news received from Bosnia."
Perrine sat at her little table. She had gone very white; she seemedlike one struck dumb.
"Well?" asked M. Vulfran.
"It is not what you hoped, what we all hoped," said the banker quietly.
"You mean that that fellow who wrote just wanted to get hold of theforty pounds."
"Oh, no; he seems an honest man...."
"Then he knows nothing?"
"He does, but unfortunately his information is only too true."
"Unfortunately!" gasped the blind man. This was the first word of doubtthat he had uttered. "You mean," he added, "that they have no more newsof him since last November?"
"There is no news since then. The French Consul at Serajevo, Bosnia, hassent me this information:
"'Last November your son arrived at Serajevo practising the trade of astrolling photographer....'"
"What do you mean?" exclaimed M. Vulfran. "A strolling photographer!...My son?"
"He had a wagon," continued the banker, "a sort of caravan in which hetraveled with his wife and child. He used to take pictures on the marketsquares where they stopped...."
The banker paused and glanced at some papers he held in his hand.
"Oh, you have something to read, haven't you?" said the blind man as heheard the paper rustle. "Read, it will be quicker."
"He plied the trade of a photographer," continued the banker, consultinghis notes, "and at the beginning of November he left Serajevo forTravnik, where he fell ill. He became very ill...."
"My God!" cried the blind man. "Oh, God...."
M. Vulfran had clasped his hands; he was trembling from head to foot, asthough a vision of his son was standing before him.
"You must have courage," said the banker, gently. "You need all yourcourage. Your son...."
"He is dead!" said the blind man.
"That is only too true," replied the banker. "All the papers areauthentic. I did not want to have any doubt upon the matter, and thatwas why I cabled to our Consul at Serajevo. Here is his reply; it leavesno doubt."
But the old man did not appear to be listening. He sat huddled up in hisbig chair, his head drooped forward on his chest. He gave no sign oflife. Perrine, terrified, wondered if he were dead.
Then suddenly he pulled himself together and the tears began to run downhis wrinkled cheeks. He brushed them aside quickly and touched theelectric bell which communicated with Talouel's and his nephew'soffices.
The call was so imperative that they all ran to the office together.
"You are there?" asked the blind man; "Talouel, Theodore and Casimir?"
All three replied together.
"I have just learned of the death of my son," said their employer. "Stopwork in all the factories immediately. Tomorrow the funeral serviceswill be held in the churches at Maraucourt, Saint-Pipoy and all theother villages."
"Oh, uncle!" cried both the nephews.
He stopped them with uplifted hand.
"I wish to be alone ... leave me," was all he said.
Everyone left the room but Perrine. She alone remained.
"Aurelie, are you there?" asked the blind man.
She replied with a sob.
&nb
sp; "Let us go home," he said.
As was his habit, he placed his hand on her shoulder, and it was likethis that they passed through the crowd of workers who streamed from thefactory. As they stood aside for him to pass, all who saw him wonderedif he would survive this blow. He, who usually walked so upright, wasbent like a tree that the storm has broken.
Could he survive this shock? Perrine asked herself this question witheven greater agony, for it was she and she alone who knew how his greatframe was trembling. His shaking hands grasped her shoulderconvulsively, and without him uttering one word little Perrine knew howdeeply her grandfather was smitten.
After she had guided him into his study he sent her away.
"Explain why I wish to be left alone. No one is to come in here. No oneis to speak to me....
"And I refused to believe you," he murmured as she was leaving him.
"Oh, please; if you will let me...."
"Leave me," he said roughly.
Perrine closed the door softly.