The door opened, and Ben Cartwright found himself confronting a small boy with chestnut curls and green eyes. "Good afternoon." he said. "Is Madame D'Aurigny home?"
The child looked up at him suspiciously. "What business have you with ma mere?"
Such a demand coming from such a little boy should have been funny, but Ben was sympathetic with the child's desire to protect his mother. "My name is Benjamin Cartwright, and I have news for Madame."
The boy studied him carefully for another moment, and then stood back to allow him entrance. The home was small but comfortable and spotlessly clean. "Please be seated, Monsieur, while I see if ma mere is home."
Ben sat down, and jumped to his feet in a second as the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen entered the room. "Who was at the door, mon cher?" She stopped when she saw Ben, and the boy went to her, standing between them as if to protect his mother from harm.
"Madame Jean D'Aurigny?" Ben asked.
"I am Marie du Val-D'Aurigny, and this is my son, Charles. What do you want?" She remained standing with one hand on her son's shoulder and the other holding his hand. They made an elegant picture, this mother and child, and it took his breath away.
"I am Ben Cartwright, Madame D'Aurigny, and I have news of your husband, Jean." He looked at the little boy. "Would it be possible for us to speak alone?"
"No, monsieur," said the boy, "I do not leave ma mere alone."
"Very well," said Ben. Marie D'Aurigny took a seat and Charles stood next to her holding her hand. His stance reminded Ben of his son, Adam, and the posture he took when he was protecting his little brother, Hoss.
Ben sighed and stood up. The story was a brutal one and difficult to tell. As he spoke, he looked away from Jean's wife and young son, and began to pace in front of the fireplace. "I come from the Nevada territory, Madame, where I have a ranch, the Ponderosa. Your husband, Jean, came to work for me two years ago when I was just starting out. The work was hard and - sometimes - dangerous as I was building up a herd of cattle and rounding up wild horses to break and sell to the army. Jean was a great horseman, and he became a great friend. This past fall we were working on the last roundup for the last cattle drive of the year. I was on evening watch when something frightened the cattle. My horse fell, putting me in the path of the stampeding herd. Jean rode out to me and pulled me up behind him on his horse. He saved my life, but he was gored in the thigh by one of the steers. An artery was ruptured, and he bled to death before we could..." Ben's voice shook and he stopped speaking.
"Thank you for coming to tell me of my husband's death," said Madame D'Aurigny. Ben looked at her, and saw that the child's face was buried in his mother's shoulder. She held him close, murmuring in his ear.
"I'm sorry to give you such distressing news, but I promised Jean when he was dying that I would come to see you." Ben cleared his throat. "He gave me a special message for your ears alone, Madame."
"Of course, Monsieur Cartwright, one moment." The young woman stood and, lifting her son in her arms, carried him out of the room. In a few minutes she returned alone. She sat down and waited, her hands folded in her lap.
Ben found it difficult to face her. As hard as it had been to tell her of her husband's death, he thought it almost impossible to deliver the last message, especially since he had just seen Jean's son. "Jean wanted me to tell you that he forgave you."
She smiled, and there was a look of bitterness on her face. "He forgave me? How generous of him, but there was nothing to forgive." She rose and extended her hand to him. "Thank you for coming to tell me of Jean's death, Monsieur Cartwright. For my son's sake, I thank you, and now I wish you good afternoon."
He took her hand in his, noticing how small and delicate it was in his large, work-worn hands. "I'm going to be here several days, Madame. I have some furs to sell. I wonder if I might see you and your son again?"
She was about to refuse, but he pressed his advantage. "I'd like to tell your boy more about his father. He was a good friend, and my sons loved him."
She shrugged. "Once again, Monsieur Cartwright, for my son's sake, I accept. Please join us for dinner tomorrow evening - unless you and Madame Cartwright have other plans?"
"Thank you, Madame, only - there is no Mrs. Cartwright. I have been a widower for the last four years." As he spoke the words, a flash of pain went across his face, and Marie D'Aurigny was impressed by a man who mourned his wife for years.
"I am sorry for your loss, Monsieur."
Ben thanked her for her invitation and left, going to the fencing studio of Marius Angeville. He knocked on the door and was admitted by an elderly man. "Mr. Angeville?" asked Ben.
"Oui, monsieur, I am he. How may I help you?"
"I was a friend of Jean D'Aurigny-" Ben began, but Monsieur Angeville interrupted him.
"Oh, a friend of Jean's? You must come in, sir," and, opening the door wider and stepping back, he beckoned Ben enter. Once inside, he took Ben's cape, cane, and hat, and offered him a seat and a glass of wine. Only when he'd made his unexpected guest comfortable did he ask about Jean.
"How is my dear friend? I haven't heard from him in months. Are you Monsieur Cartwright of the Ponderosa? Jean thought highly of you and your two young sons. You know, Jean has a son, Charles. Have you met him and his beautiful mother, Marie? She was Marie du Val, of Creole extraction." Words poured out of Marius Angeville so fast that Ben was hard put to follow his conversation.
"I am Ben Cartwright, and my ranch is called the Ponderosa. I met Madame D'Aurigny and her son earlier today. Mr. Angeville, I must tell you about Jean." Something in Ben's tone caused the old man to pause.
"You come bearing sad news of Jean?" Ben nodded, and the old man seemed to shrink into himself. When he said nothing else, Ben repeated the story he'd told Marie and Charles. Marius looked up with tears in his eyes.
"I was afraid of something like this," Marius said. "When I didn't hear from Jean for so long...he wrote every week, sending money to me for Marie and the child. Poor Jean." He sighed and looked down at the floor.
Ben was silent, leaving the old man to his thoughts. He finished his wine, and stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Angeville."
Marius stood. "Thank you for coming to see me, Monsieur Cartwright. It cannot have been easy to deliver such sad news. Where are you staying?"
"Well, nowhere yet. I was hoping you could recommend-"
"You will stay here with me," said Marius.
Ben shook his head. "Oh, no, I couldn't impose-"
"It is no imposition. You will stay here and we will tell stories of our friend, Jean, and we shall become friends, shall we not?" In the face of such overwhelming hospitality, Ben had no choice but to accept.