Do not receive this as merely a commonplace
remark, but let reason THEREFORE restrain sorrow. I would not annihilate
your feelings, my child, I would only teach you to command them; for
whatever may be the evils resulting from a too susceptible heart,
nothing can be hoped from an insensible one; that, on the other hand,
is all vice--vice, of which the deformity is not softened, or the effect
consoled for, by any semblance or possibility of good. You know my
sufferings, and are, therefore, convinced that mine are not the light
words which, on these occasions, are so often repeated to destroy even
the sources of honest emotion, or which merely display the selfish
ostentation of a false philosophy. I will shew my Emily, that I can
practise what I advise. I have said thus much, because I cannot bear to
see you wasting in useless sorrow, for want of that resistance which
is due from mind; and I have not said it till now, because there is
a period when all reasoning must yield to nature; that is past: and
another, when excessive indulgence, having sunk into habit, weighs
down the elasticity of the spirits so as to render conquest nearly
impossible; this is to come. You, my Emily, will shew that you are
willing to avoid it.' Emily smiled through her tears upon her father:
'Dear sir,' said she,
and her voice trembled; she would have added, 'I will shew myself worthy
of being your daughter;' but a mingled emotion of gratitude, affection,
and grief overcame her. St. Aubert suffered her to weep without
interruption, and then began to talk on common topics.
The first person who came to condole with St. Aubert was a M. Barreaux,
an austere and seemingly unfeeling man. A taste for botany had
introduced them to each other, for they had frequently met in their
wanderings among the mountains. M. Barreaux had retired from the world,
and almost from society, to live in a pleasant chateau, on the skirts of
the woods, near La Vallee. He also had been disappointed in his opinion
of mankind; but he did not, like St. Aubert, pity and mourn for them;
he felt more indignation at their vices, than compassion for their
weaknesses.
St. Aubert was somewhat surprised to see him; for, though he had often
pressed him to come to the chateau, he had never till now accepted the
invitation; and now he came without ceremony or reserve, entering the
parlour as an old friend. The claims of misfortune appeared to have
softened down all the ruggedness and prejudices of his heart. St. Aubert
unhappy, seemed to be the sole idea that occupied his mind. It was in
manners, more than in words, that he appeared to sympathize with his
friends: he spoke little on the subject of their grief; but the minute
attention he gave them, and the modulated voice, and softened look that
accompanied it, came from his heart, and spoke to theirs.