“I have the honor, etc.”
The next day he received the reply:
“Monsieur: I shall expect you to-morrow,
Tuesday, at five o’clock.”
As he went up the staircase, Francois Tessier’s
heart beat so violently that he had to stop several
times. There was a dull and violent thumping
noise in his breast, as of some animal galloping; and
he could breathe only with difficulty, and had to
hold on to the banisters, in order not to fall.
He rang the bell on the third floor, and when a maid
servant had opened the door, he asked: “Does
Monsieur Flamel live here?” “Yes, monsieur.
Kindly come in.”
He was shown into the drawing-room; he was alone,
and waited, feeling bewildered, as in the midst of
a catastrophe, until a door opened, and a man came
in. He was tall, serious and rather stout, and
wore a black frock coat, and pointed to a chair with
his hand. Francois Tessier sat down, and then
said, with choking breath: “Monsieur—monsieur—I
do not know whether you know my name—whether
you know——”
Monsieur Flamel interrupted him. “You need
not tell it me, monsieur, I know it. My wife
has spoken to me about you.” He spoke in
the dignified tone of voice of a good man who wishes
to be severe, and with the commonplace stateliness
of an honorable man, and Francois Tessier continued:
“Well, monsieur, I want to say this: I
am dying of grief, of remorse, of shame, and I would
like once, only once to kiss the child.”
Monsieur Flamel got up and rang the bell, and when
the servant came in, he said: “Will you
bring Louis here?” When she had gone out, they
remained face to face, without speaking, as they had
nothing more to say to one another, and waited.
Then, suddenly, a little boy of ten rushed into the
room and ran up to the man whom he believed to be his
father, but he stopped when he saw the stranger, and
Monsieur Flamel kissed him and said: “Now,
go and kiss that gentleman, my dear.” And
the child went up to the stranger and looked at him.
Francois Tessier had risen. He let his hat fall,
and was ready to fall himself as he looked at his
son, while Monsieur Flamel had turned away, from a
feeling of delicacy, and was looking out of the window.
The child waited in surprise; but he picked up the
hat and gave it to the stranger. Then Francois,
taking the child up in his arms, began to kiss him
wildly all over his face; on his eyes, his cheeks,
his mouth, his hair; and the youngster, frightened
at the shower of kisses, tried to avoid them, turned
away his head, and pushed away the man’s face
with his little hands. But suddenly Francois
Tessier put him down and cried: “Good-by!
good-by!” And he rushed out of the room as if
he had been a thief.
