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diff --git a/42839-8.txt b/42839-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 44620dd..0000000 --- a/42839-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12368 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Popular Tales, by Madame Guizot, Translated -by Mrs. L. Burke - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Popular Tales - Scaramouche--Cecilia and Nanette--Three Chapters from the Life of Nadir--The Mother and Daughter--The Difficult Duty:Moral Doubts--New Year's Night--The Curé of Chavignat--The Double Vow--Poor José--Caroline; or, The Effects of a Misfortune - - -Author: Madame Guizot - - - -Release Date: May 29, 2013 [eBook #42839] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POPULAR TALES*** - - -E-text prepared by sp1nd, Paul Clark, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 42839-h.htm or 42839-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42839/42839-h/42839-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42839/42839-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/populartales00guiz - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -POPULAR TALES. - -Reed and Pardon, Printers, Paternoster-Row, London. - - -[Illustration: Scaramouche, p. 27.] - - -POPULAR TALES. - -by - -MADAME GUIZOT. - -Translated from the French by Mrs. L. Burke. - - - - - - - -London: -George Routledge & Co., -Farringdon Street. -1854. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The favourable reception accorded to our first introduction of Madame -Guizot's Tales to the English Public, leads us to hope that our -youthful readers will welcome with pleasure another volume from the pen -of that talented writer. - -This new series will be found in no respect inferior to the former; -one of its tales, certainly, has even a deeper interest than anything -contained in that volume, while the same sound morality, elevation -of sentiment and general refinement of thought, which so strongly -recommend the "Moral Tales" to the sympathies of the Parent and -Teacher, will be found equally to pervade the present series. - - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - SCARAMOUCHE 1 - - CECILIA AND NANETTE 37 - - THREE CHAPTERS FROM THE LIFE OF NADIR 98 - - THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 116 - - THE DIFFICULT DUTY--MORAL DOUBTS 139 - - NEW YEAR'S NIGHT 169 - - THE CURÉ OF CHAVIGNAT 171 - - THE DOUBLE VOW 231 - - POOR JOSÉ 237 - - CAROLINE; OR, THE EFFECTS OF A MISFORTUNE 307 - - - - -SCARAMOUCHE. - - -It was a village fair, and Punch with his usual retinue--Judy, the -Beadle, and the Constable--had established himself on one side of the -green; while on the other were to be seen, Martin, the learned ass, and -Peerless Jacquot, the wonderful parrot. Matthieu la Bouteille (such -was the nickname bestowed upon the owner of the ass, a name justified -by the redness of his nose) held Martin by the bridle, while Peerless -Jacquot rested on his shoulder, attached by a chain to his belt. His -wife, surnamed _La Mauricaude_, had undertaken to assemble the company, -and to display Martin's talents. Thomas, the son of La Mauricaude, -a child of eleven years of age, covered with a few rags, which had -once been a pair of trowsers and a shirt, collected, in the remnant -of a hat, the voluntary contributions of the spectators; while in the -background, sad and silent, stood Gervais, a lad of between fourteen -and fifteen years of age, Matthew's son by a former marriage. - -"Come, ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed La Mauricaude, in her hoarse -voice, "come and see Martin; he will tell you, ladies and gentlemen, -what you know and what you don't know. Come, ladies and gentlemen, and -hear Peerless Jacquot; he will reply to what you say to him, and to -what you do not say to him." And this joke, constantly repeated by La -Mauricaude in precisely the same tone, always attracted an audience of -pretty nearly the same character. - -"Now then, Martin," continued La Mauricaude, as soon as the circle was -formed, "tell this honourable company what o'clock it is." Martin, -whether he did not understand, or did not choose to reply, still -remained motionless. La Mauricaude renewed the question: Martin shook -his ears. "Do you say, Martin, that you cannot see the clock at this -distance?" continued La Mauricaude. "Has any one a watch?" Immediately -an enormous watch was produced from the pocket of a farmer, and placed -under the eyes of Martin, who appeared to consider it attentively. -The whole assembly, like Martin himself, stretched forward with -increased attention. It was just noon by the watch; after a few -moments' reflection, Martin raised his head and uttered three vigorous -_hihons_, to which the crowd responded by a burst of laughter, which -did not in the least appear to disturb Martin. "Oh, oh! Martin," cried -La Mauricaude, "I see you are thinking of three o'clock, the time for -having your oats; but you must wait, so what say you to a game of -cards, in order to pass the time?" And a pack of cards, almost effaced -by dirt, was immediately extracted from a linen bag which hung at La -Mauricaude's right side, and spread out in the midst of the circle, -which drew in closer, in order to enjoy a nearer view of the spectacle -about to be afforded by the talents of Martin. "Now then, Martin; now -then, my boy," continued his instructress, "draw: draw first of all the -knave of hearts, and present it to this honourable company as a sign -of your attachment and respect;" and already the two or three wits of -the crowd had nodded their heads with an air of approbation at this -ingenious compliment, when Martin, after repeated orders, put forth his -right foot, and placed it upon the seven of spades. - -At this moment the voice of a parrot was heard in the midst of the -crowd, distinctly pronouncing the words, "That won't do, my good -fellow." It was Peerless Jacquot, who, wearied at not having been -called upon to join in the conversation, repeated one of his favourite -phrases. The appropriateness of his speech restored the good humour -of the company, who were beginning to be disgusted with Martin's -stupidity; and their attention would probably have been bestowed upon -Jacquot, had not Punch's trumpet been at that moment heard, announcing -that the actors were ready and the performances about to commence. At -this signal Martin's audience began to disperse; the ranks thinned, -and the remnant of the hat, which was seen advancing in the hands -of Thomas, effectually drove away those who still lingered from -curiosity or indifference. All took the same direction; and Matthew, -Thomas, La Mauricaude, Martin, and Jacquot followed, with more or -less of ill-humour, the crowd which had deserted them. Gervais alone, -separating from them, went into a neighbouring street to offer his -services, during the fair time, to a farrier engaged in shoeing the -horses of the visitors. - -A far different spectacle from any with which Martin could amuse -them, awaited the curious on the other side of the green. An enormous -mastiff had just been unharnessed from a little cart, upon which he -had brought the theatre and company of the Marionettes; and now, -lying down in front of the tent and at the feet of his master, he -seemed to take under his protection those things which had thus far -travelled under his conveyance. Medor's appearance was that of a -useful and well-treated servant; his looks towards his master those -of a confiding friend. Va-bon-train (this was the name of the owner -of the Marionettes) might easily be recognized for an old soldier. -The regularity of his movements added greatly to the effect of -their vivacity; everything happened in its proper turn, and at its -proper time. His utterance was precise without being abrupt, and -the tone of military firmness which he associated with the tricks -of his trade, gave to them a certain degree of dignity. Words taken -from the languages of the different countries through which he had -travelled were mingled, with wonderful gravity and readiness, in the -dialogue of the personages whom he put in action; and scenes in which -he had been personally concerned, either as actor or witness, fired -his imagination, and furnished incidents which enabled him to vary -his representations to an unlimited extent. He was assisted by his -son Michael, a fine lad about the age of Gervais, whom he very much -resembled, although the countenance of the one was as serious as that -of the other was cheerful and animated. - -There was nothing strange in this resemblance, for Matthew and -Va-bon-train were brothers, and Michael and Gervais therefore first -cousins. Va-bon-train, whose baptismal name was Vincent, owed his -nickname less to the regularity of his movements than to the vivacity -of his disposition and the promptitude of his determinations. Having -at the age of twenty-five lost his wife, to whom he was much attached, -and who had died in giving birth to Michael, he could not endure even -a temporary grief, and therefore determined, in order to divert his -mind, to enter the army, which he did in the quality of substitute, -leaving the price of his engagement for the support of his son, whom -he confided to the care of Matthew's wife, who had just given birth -to Gervais. She nursed both the children, and brought them up with -an equal tenderness and in good habits, for she was a worthy woman. -They went to the same school, where they learned to read and write, -and were instructed in their religion; they began working together -in Matthew's shop, at his trade of a blacksmith; and, in fine, they -were united by a friendship which was no less ardent on the part of -the lively Michael than on that of the graver Gervais. At the age of -thirteen, Gervais had the misfortune of losing his mother, and almost -at the same time the additional one of being separated from Michael. -Vincent Va-bon-train, who had obtained his discharge, had come for -his son, whose assistance he required in carrying out his enterprise -of the Marionettes, in which he had just engaged. Soon afterwards -Matthew's affairs began to fall into confusion. While his wife lived -she had kept a check on his love of drink, but no sooner was she dead -than he gave himself up to it without restraint. At the tavern he -became acquainted with La Mauricaude, a low, bad-principled woman, -who had followed all sorts of trades. He was foolish enough to marry -her, and they soon squandered the little that remained to him, already -much diminished by his disorderly conduct. Then she persuaded him to -give up the shop, and travel through the country with his ass and -his parrot, assuring him that he would thereby gain a great deal of -money. This wandering kind of life accorded better than regular labour -with Matthew's newly-acquired habits; and he was the more ready to -trust the assurances of his wife, as Va-bon-train had just reappeared -in the country in a prosperous condition, the result of the success -of his Marionettes. Matthew then formed the idea of entering into -partnership with his brother; but the latter was not at all anxious -for the connexion, as Matthew's conduct was not calculated to inspire -him with any confidence. His second marriage had displeased him, and -he disliked La Mauricaude, though he had seen her but casually; but -a soldier is not apt to be deterred by trifles, nor to allow his -antipathies to interfere with his actions; and besides, Matthew had -rendered him a service in bringing up his son Michael. For this he was -grateful, and glad, therefore, to have an opportunity of manifesting -his gratitude. The caravan consequently set out, Michael delighted at -being once more with his beloved Gervais, and Gervais sad at leaving -the respectable and regular course of life which suited him, viz. his -trade of blacksmith, in which, notwithstanding his father's negligence -in instructing him, he had already attained some proficiency. He was -in some degree consoled, however, by the prospect of travelling, and -travelling with Michael; and he was glad to leave a place where the -misconduct of his father had ended in destroying the good reputation -which until then his family had always enjoyed. - -Unfortunately, the faults which had destroyed Matthew's reputation -followed him wherever he went. Before the end of the first week, the -two parties had disagreed. The baseness of La Mauricaude, and the -wicked propensities of her son Thomas, who was always better pleased -with stealing a thing than with receiving it as a gift, were soon -discovered to Va-bon-train, in a manner which led him to determine to -break his agreement with them as readily as he had made it; and when -he said to his brother, "We must separate," just as when he said, "We -will go together," the matter was settled, and all opposition was out -of the question. Michael no more thought of opposing his father's -resolution than any one else, he only threw himself weeping into the -arms of Gervais, who pressed his hand sadly, but with resignation, -having at least the comfort of thinking that his uncle would no longer -be a witness of the disgraceful conduct of his family. La Mauricaude -was furious, and declared that she was not to be shaken off in that -easy style; and she determined to follow her brother-in-law, in spite -of himself, in order to profit by the crowd he always attracted, and -to endeavour at the same time to injure him, either by speaking ill of -him in every way she could, or by trying to interrupt his performances, -by the shrieks of the parrot, which she had taught to repeat insulting -phrases, and to imitate the voice of the Marionettes. For two months -she persisted in her resolution, notwithstanding the remonstrances -of Matthew, whose remonstrances, indeed, were usually of very little -avail. At first, Va-bon-train was annoyed with these things; but he -soon reconciled himself to them with his usual promptitude. One day, -however, he said to his brother, "Listen, Matthew: the roads are free; -but let me not hear that you have allowed any one to think that that -toad yonder has the insolence to call herself my sister." So saying, -he showed La Mauricaude the whip with which he was accustomed to give -Medor a slight touch now and then, in order to keep him attentive, and -the handle of which had more than once warned Michael of some failure -in discipline. From that time, Gervais no longer saluted his uncle, -for fear of offending him; and La Mauricaude, notwithstanding her -impudence, did not dare to run the risk of braving him openly. Besides, -she would have found it no easy task to entice away his audience. Who -could enter into competition with "the great, the wonderful, _il vero -Scaramuccia_, Gentlemen, just come direct from Naples,[1] to present -to you, _lustrissimi_, the homage of his colleagues, the _Lazzaroni_? -_Baccia vu_, your hand, _Monsu_ de Scaramouche." And Scaramouche bowed -his head, and raised his hand to his mouth, with a series of movements -capable of making you forget the threads by which they were directed. -"Look, gentlemen, look at Scaramouche, look at him full in the face; it -is indeed Scaramouche; he has not a _sou_, not a _pezzetta_, Gentlemen, -but how happy he is! See him with his mouth extended from ear to ear; -his foot raised, ready to run or jump: but one turn of the hand, one -single turn of the wheel of fortune, and behold the metamorphosis! How -anxious and grieved he looks! He is now the _Signor_ Scaramuccia, he -has become rich, he is counting his money in his hand; he counts, and -now he counts more still, and ever with increased vexation. Oh! what -has happened to him now? His countenance is changed. Oh! what a piteous -face! He weeps; he tears his cap. _Povero Scaramuccia!_ What! _presso -'l denaro!_ Your money has been stolen! Come, come, Scaramouche, _fa -cuore_, take courage. No!... _Ammazarti?_ You want to kill yourself! -Very well then, but first of all a little _Macaroni_. Yes, poor -fellow, he will enjoy his _Macaroni_. See, gentlemen, how piteously he -stretches out his hand, how he eats with tears in his eyes; but, _pian -piano, Scaramuccia_, gently, _vuoi mangiare tutto?_ Would you eat the -whole? Alas! yes; _tutto mangiare_, all, _per morire!_ in order that -he may die! What, die of indigestion! You are joking, Scaramouche; -Macaroni never killed a Lazzarone. Stop, see, he revives again; how he -draws up his leg as a mark of pleasure! How he turns his eyes every -time he opens his mouth to receive _una copiosa_ pinch _di Macaroni_! -_O che gusto! che boccone!_ How delightful! what a mouthful! Make your -minds easy, gentlemen, Scaramouche is alive again." A variety of scenes -succeeded, displaying Scaramouche under numerous aspects, each more -admirable than the former. The last was that in which the German on -duty stopped Scaramouche, with the exclamation _Wer da!_ Scaramouche -replied in Italian, vainly endeavouring to make himself understood, and -avoiding, by dint of suppleness, the terrible bayonet of the German. -Then Punch came up, arguing to as little purpose in French. At length, -the Devil carried away the German, and Punch and Scaramouche went -to enjoy a bottle together. The beauty of the invention drew forth -enthusiastic and universal applause; the politicians of the place -exchanged mysterious glances; and when Scaramouche presented to the -assembled crowd the little saucer which had been placed in his hands, -there was no one who did not hasten to offer his sou, his liard, -or his centime, for the pleasure of receiving a bow or a nod from -Scaramouche. - -The crowd slowly dispersed, conversing on the pleasure they had -enjoyed. "His Scaramouche breaks my back," said La Mauricaude, in a -tone of ill-temper. - -"I have often told you, wife," replied her husband, "that by persisting -in following them".... - -"I have often told you, husband, that you are a fool," was the reply -of La Mauricaude. To Matthew it appeared unanswerable; and Thomas, -at a look from his mother, went off to visit Medor, who received -him politely, and with an air of old acquaintanceship. Va-bon-train -perceived him, cracked his great whip, and Thomas immediately ran away -as fast as he could. - -Gervais was passing along the green, leading back to its owner a horse, -which he had helped to shoe. He did not approach, but Medor perceived -him at a distance, got up, wagged his tail, and gave a slight whine, -partly from the delight of seeing him, and partly from annoyance at not -being able to go with him. Gervais gave him a friendly nod. Michael -fondly kissed the great head of Medor, and a smile seemed to brighten -the countenance of Gervais, at this expression of Michael's affection. -It was only in such ways as this that any interchange of thought was -permitted to them. - -Though possessed of many good qualities, Va-bon-train had one -defect,--that of forming precipitate judgments, and of being unwilling -to correct them when formed. He came to a decision at once, in order -that a matter might the sooner be settled; and when he had decided, he -did not wish to be disturbed in his opinion, as it took up too much -time to change his mind. The violence done to his feelings in enduring -La Mauricaude for a whole week had so much increased his prejudice, -that it had extended to the whole family. La Mauricaude was a demon, -Matthew a fool, Thomas a rascal, and Gervais a simpleton. These four -judgments once pronounced, were not to be over-ruled. Va-bon-train -was very fond of his son, whose disposition quite accorded with his -own; but he kept him, in military style, under a strict and prompt -obedience, aware that the kind of life he made him follow, might, -without the greatest care, lead a young man into habits of irregularity -and idleness. Fortunately Michael was possessed of good dispositions, -had been well brought up, and preferred to all other company the -society of his father, who amused him with his numerous anecdotes. -Besides, he made it a matter of pride to assist his father as much -as possible, and was never so delighted as when his exertions had -contributed to the success of the day. Va-bon-train's industry was -not confined to his Marionettes; he took advantage of his constant -journeys to carry on a small traffic, purchasing in one canton such -goods as happened to be cheap there, and selling them in some other, -where they were of greater value. He taught Michael how to buy and -sell, and make advantageous speculations; and Michael would have been -perfectly happy in following this kind of busy, useful life, had it not -been for the grief he felt in being unable to share his pleasures with -Gervais. But when, after having slept at the best inn which the town or -village in which they happened to be, afforded, he saw Gervais in the -morning, pale, from having passed a cold or rainy night with no other -shelter than an old barn, his heart was pierced; and, notwithstanding -his father's commands, he found means to get away, and, with a flask -in his hand, hastened to offer a glass of wine to his friend, who -refused it with a shake of the head, but with a friendly look. Michael -sighed; yet this refusal only served to increase his affection for -Gervais; for he well knew that his offer was refused from honourable -feelings, not from pride or rancour. Nor was his mind relieved, except -when Gervais succeeded in finding work; for then he knew that he -would have a good day. When at work, the habitually sad expression of -Gervais' countenance, gave place to an air of animation quite pleasant -to behold; and even Va-bon-train himself had been unable to resist the -temptation of stopping to look at him; and, observing the dexterity -and courage with which he managed the horses, he remarked, "By my -faith, that fellow works well." Then Michael hastened to reply, "Oh! -Gervais is a capital workman;" and he was beginning to add, "and such a -good boy too," when Va-bon-train passed on and spoke of other things. -Michael then contented himself with remaining a little behind, watching -Gervais at work; and when they had exchanged looks, they separated -satisfied. - -Up to that time Gervais had been unsuccessful in his efforts to find -a master who would take him into regular employment. There was no one -to be answerable for him; and those with whom he travelled were not of -a character to give him a recommendation. However, he made the best -he could of his wandering life, by endeavouring to perfect himself in -his trade, losing no opportunity of gaining information, and examining -with care the treatment employed in the various maladies of animals, -and all the other operations of the veterinary art. He also managed -to live on his daily earnings, which he economized with the greatest -care, and thereby escaped the necessity of partaking of the ill-gotten -repasts of La Mauricaude and her son. Sometimes even he shared his -own food with his father, whose wretched life was spent in a state of -alternate intoxication and want, giving himself up to drink the moment -he had money, and the next day going without bread. As it suited La -Mauricaude to have some one who could take care of the ass and the -parrot, while she and her son attended to their own affairs, they were -induced to treat Matthew with some degree of consideration, at least -so far as to allow him a share in their profits, of which, however, -they were careful to conceal from him the source, for Matthew, even -in his degraded condition, preserved an instinct of honesty, which -sometimes caused him to say with a significant air, but only when he -was intoxicated, "As for me, I am an honest man;" for when sober, he -had not so much wit. La Mauricaude had several times endeavoured to get -from Gervais the money he earned, but her demands were always firmly -resisted, and Gervais afterwards took especial care not to leave his -money within reach of her or her son. She had likewise tried to breed -dissensions between him and his father; but Matthew respected his son, -and La Mauricaude found that it was not to her interest to excite -too much the attention of Gervais, for his surveillance would have -been very inconvenient to her. She therefore ended by leaving him in -tolerable peace, one reason of which may have been that she saw little -of him, as he usually left the party as soon as it was day, and did not -return until bed-time, when he rarely slept under a roof, unless it was -that of some deserted shed. - -The performances of the morning were over, and Va-bon-train stood -chatting at the door of the inn where he had dined with an old friend, -a blacksmith from Lyons. They were then about twenty-five leagues -distant from that town, on the road to Tournon, whither the blacksmith -was going on some private business. Blanchet, such was this person's -name, was clever at his trade, and well to do in the world. The -blacksmith of the village in which they were then staying was a former -apprentice and workman of his, and he had stopped to visit him as he -passed through, and was now on the point of resuming his journey. The -forge was at a short distance from the inn; and Gervais, who had just -left it, as it was getting dark, came up to the spot where Va-bon-train -and Blanchet were conversing. The street was narrow, and, moreover, -partially blocked up by a horse that was tied in front of the inn. -Va-bon-train chancing to turn his head in the direction by which -Gervais was approaching, perceived him coming, and drew back to allow -him to pass. Gervais blushed and hesitated; he had not been so close to -his uncle for two months. At length he passed on, and, without raising -his eyes, bowed to him as he would have done to a stranger, but with an -expression of the most profound respect. Michael's eyes were suffused -with tears, and for a moment those of Va-bon-train followed his nephew, -who, turning round and encountering his uncle's looks, hastily withdrew -his own and continued his way. - -"Do you know that lad?" demanded Blanchet. - ---"Why?" - -"Because yonder at the forge, a short time since, they were talking -about you." - ---"And what did he say?" continued Va-bon-train, with an expression of -rising displeasure. - ---"He? Nothing:--but one of the men was relating something, I don't -know what, about a woman with whom he had been drinking yesterday, -some two leagues hence, and who told him that you had abandoned your -brother in misfortune. This lad immediately tapped him on the shoulder, -saying, '_Comrade, that is no business of yours. It is always best -not to interfere in family quarrels._' The man was silenced; and I, -learning from what passed, that you were here, for I had not then been -out upon the green, I wished to add my word, so I said, that if you did -leave your brother in misfortune, it must be because he deserved it, -for I well knew the kindness of your heart; whereupon, the young fellow -gave me also my answer, though politely enough however, for he said, -'_Notwithstanding all that, Master Blanchet, it is much better not to -interfere in family affairs_;' and the lad was right as to that; but -from all this I thought he must know you, more especially when, a short -time since, while passing the inn-yard, I saw him enter it, and draw -some water for your dog to drink." - -Va-bon-train was visibly moved. Michael, whose heart beat violently, -looked at his father. - -"He was at work, then, at the blacksmith's?" demanded the latter with -some degree of emotion. - -"Yes; and hard at it too, I can tell you. It is vexatious that you do -not know him. He was anxious to be taken as a regular hand there; but -when asked who would be answerable for him, he replied, '_No one._' Had -it not been for this, I would have engaged him myself, for I am sure he -will turn out a capital workman." - -"You think so?" - -"Oh! you should see how he sets to work; he would learn more about his -business with me in six months, than with any one else in three years. -But one cannot take him without a recommendation. I heard him say to -one of his companions, that this was the third situation he had lost in -this manner, nor will he ever get one." - -"Oh dear!" exclaimed Michael, who could no longer restrain his feelings. - -"Well!" said Va-bon-train. "My friend Blanchet will take him on my -recommendation. Take him, friend; I know him, and will be answerable -for him." - -"Nonsense! what are you talking about?" - -"Nothing; only that I shall see you at Lyons, whither you are -returning:--but when?" - -"I shall be there on Monday week." - -"And so shall I; and I will come and dine with you: we will arrange -this matter over our glasses. But, at all events, you will take the lad -if I am answerable for him; do not make me break my word." - -"No, no; the thing is settled; good bye till Monday week;" and they -parted. - -"But Gervais must be told," said Michael, trembling with joy. - -"Go, then, and make haste back; tell him to be at Lyons by Monday -week, if possible; but, above all, he must take care that the old toad -knows nothing about it." This was his usual epithet for La Mauricaude. -Michael departed, and Va-bon-train went to a neighbouring tavern, into -which he had seen Matthew and his company enter. The price of a pair of -stockings worth fifty sous, which had been stolen from a shop at the -fair, and sold a quarter-of-an-hour afterwards for twenty, served to -defray the expenses of the party; and Matthew, owing to the cheapness -of the wine that season, was just on the verge of intoxication, when -Va-bon-train, coming up, said to him, "Matthew, there is but one word -between you and me: when I go one way, you must take care and go the -other; if you don't, your old toad and her young one will every morning -get for their breakfast a sound dressing from this whip." - -"As for me, Vincent, I am an honest man," stammered Matthew. La -Mauricaude was about to vociferate; and the host took part with his -customer. - -"Friend," said Va-bon-train, "when you settle your account with that -hussey, I will not interfere; but look well to the money she gives -you:" and he walked out. As soon as he was gone, La Mauricaude poured -forth a torrent of abuse. Those of her neighbours whose hearts began -to be warmed and their wits clouded by the wine they had taken, agreed -unanimously, that to come and insult in that manner respectable people, -who were quietly taking their glass, without interfering with any one, -was a thing not to be borne: and Matthew again repeated, "As for me, -I am an honest man." The rest, as they looked at La Mauricaude and -her son, made some reflections on Va-bon-train's speech, and the host -thought it high time to demand payment. This completed the ill-humour -of La Mauricaude. - -As for Michael, he had hastened to Gervais, and delivered his message. -A sudden flush of surprise and joy suffused the countenance of the -latter, on learning that his uncle would be answerable for him; and -when the voice of Va-bon-train was heard calling his son, the two -friends pressed each other's hands, and parted, each cherishing the -thought of the happiness which was about to dawn for both of them. - -All was quiet at the inn where Va-bon-train had taken up his abode for -the night, when, awaking from his first sleep, he thought he heard -Medor in the yard, groaning, and very uneasy. He went down stairs, and -was surprised to find him tied by a cord to a tree that was near the -cart, and so short that he could scarcely move. As he was accustomed to -allow Medor his liberty at night, feeling quite sure that he would make -use of it only to defend more effectually his master's property, he -concluded that some one had thought to render him a service, by tying -up the dog for fear of his escaping; for in the darkness he had not -perceived that the other end of the cord which attached Medor to the -tree, had been passed round his nose, so as to form a kind of muzzle. -Eager to liberate the poor animal, he cut the cord, which was fastened -round his neck by a slip knot, and which, but for the intervention of -his collar, must have strangled him. The cord once cut, the knot gave -way, and, by the aid of his fore paws, Medor was soon freed from his -ignoble fetters. No sooner had he regained his liberty, than he began -to scent with avidity all round the yard, moaning the whole time; then -he dashed against the stable door as if he would break it in. His -master, astonished, opened it for him, supposing, from what he knew of -his instinct, that some suspicious person might be concealed there; but -Medor was contented with running across the stable, still scenting, -to the opposite door, which led into the street, and which, by the -means of this stable, formed one of the entrances to the inn. His -master called him, he came back with reluctance, and, still moaning, -laid down at his feet, as if to solicit a favour; then he ran to the -vehicle, again returned, and rushed with greater violence against the -first door, which his master had in the mean time closed. Astonished -at these manoeuvres, Va-bon-train went to his cart; but everything -was in order, the trunk locked, and nothing apparently to justify the -dog's agitation. Then, presuming that Medor, notwithstanding his good -sense, was, like all dogs and all children, impatient to set out on -his journey, and had been seized with this fancy rather earlier than -usual, he gave him a cut with his whip, sent him back to the cart, and -returned to bed. - -The next morning, when he went down, he called Medor, but no Medor -answered. He sought for him everywhere, but without success; he then -recollected what had taken place during the night, and feared that some -one had stolen him. - -"Was he there," demanded one of the travellers, "when you went down in -the night to take something from your cart?" Va-bon-train declared that -he had taken nothing from his cart. - -"The heat was insufferable," continued the man, "and we had the -window open. One of the workmen from the forge, who slept in my room, -said: 'See, there is some one meddling with the box belonging to the -exhibitor of the Marionettes.' 'His dog does not growl,' said I, 'so it -must be the man himself. Never mind, friend; let us sleep.'" - -Va-bon-train hastened to his box, which was still locked; he opened it, -and found everything in disorder: Scaramouche had disappeared, as well -as a dozen of Madras handkerchiefs, the remains of a lot purchased at -the fair of Beaucaire, and the greater part of which had been sold on -his journey. Who could have done this? Va-bon-train remembered having -found a key upon the road, a few days after he had associated himself -with Matthew, and which fitted his trunk. He lost it again the next -day, but had not troubled himself about it. Now he guessed into whose -hands it had fallen, and felt assured that Medor would not have allowed -himself to be approached and led away by any one but an acquaintance. - -"That boy who was at work close by, at the blacksmith's," said the -landlord of the inn, "did he not come in here, and give the dog some -drink?" - -"He who came with the woman and the ass?" said the hostess. "He seemed -to be a respectable lad." - -"_You_ may think so," replied a neighbour; "but when I saw him enter -the stable yonder, after dark, I said to Cateau, What is that little -_vagabond_ going to do there?" - -"Gervais!" exclaimed Michael. - -"Yes," said the landlord, "he was called Gervais at the blacksmith's." -The flush of anger mounted to the face of Va-bon-train. The idea of -having been duped was added to the annoyance of his loss, and he swore -that he would never again be caught overcoming a prejudice. A less -hasty disposition would have examined whether the innkeeper and the -neighbour were not speaking of different persons, and whether suspicion -ought not more naturally to fall upon Thomas and La Mauricaude. But -the woman whose explanations would have thrown light upon the subject -had gone home, and among those who remained there was no one who had -seen them, or, at all events, who would acknowledge to have done so; -for where there is not some falsehood to complicate matters, it is rare -that truth does not break out, so great is its tendency to manifest -itself. - -La Mauricaude, who was never so persuasive as when she had been -drinking, had formed acquaintance with one of the ostlers of the -inn, who, on his side, was easily led by persuasion, when in the -same condition. She had obtained from him a gratuitous place in the -stable for Martin, and, though against his master's express orders, a -corner also for Thomas. Hence, furnished with some of the remains of -the travellers' supper, which he had obtained from his protector, it -was an easy matter for Thomas to enter the yard, and entrap the too -confiding Medor, who had no suspicion of treachery from the hand of an -acquaintance. At the moment when Medor, without abandoning his post, -raised his head to smell what was presented to him, Thomas passed the -muzzle on his nose, and the slip knot round his neck, and the poor -animal found himself tied up to a tree, without having been able to -make the least resistance; for, could he have made any, he would easily -have triumphed over his adversary. Thus master of the field, Thomas had -no difficulty in prosecuting his designs, by means of the key which, at -all risks, he had possessed himself of at the first opportunity that -offered. Martin, taken from the stable before daybreak, carried off the -stolen goods, and scarcely had the morning begun to dawn, when Matthew, -roused from the heavy sleep of intoxication, and, almost unconscious of -what he was doing, left the arch of the bridge, beneath which he had -slept, in the bed of a dried-up stream. - -Gervais had obtained, from the blacksmith by whom he had been employed, -the permission to pass the night in his woodhouse, upon a heap of -vine twigs. Awakening from a sleep which, for the first time for two -months, had revived hope in his bosom, he arose with a light heart, -full of eagerness to commence his journey towards his new destination. -The evening before, he had told his father that he was going to leave -him, for the purpose of seeking employment; and Matthew, whose paternal -affections were greatly strengthened after the second bottle, gave him -his benediction, with tears in his eyes, saying, "Go, my son, and gain -an honest living; and wherever you go, you may declare that I am an -honest man." As for La Mauricaude, she troubled herself very little -about him, neither did he wish her to do so. His serious and reserved -disposition had prevented anything like friendly feeling between them. - -He walked with a light heart towards Lyons, calculating that in order -to get there, he would require on his journey some little work and -a great deal of frugality; for even by sleeping in sheds, beneath -bridges, or under trees, it was impossible that his twenty-one sous, -the proceeds of his work the day before, and of his previous economy, -should be sufficient for the maintenance of a lad of fifteen, during -the ten days that must yet elapse, before the arrival of that happy -Monday, which was to bring him the protection of his uncle and of -Master Blanchet. But how should he be uneasy about the means of -reaching his destination? He was already there in imagination. He was -about to live with those who, every day and every hour, would recognize -his probity. He was going to have an opportunity of proving his right -to be esteemed, a necessity keenly felt by those who, like him, have -known humiliation without deserving it, and without allowing themselves -to be depressed by its influence. And then, how many delights were -in store for him! That pair of shoes which he carried so carefully -fastened to the end of his stick, whenever he had far to walk, he might -soon be able to wear continually, for he foresaw the time when he -should be in a condition to buy others. Nevertheless, he must endeavour -to make them last until he had purchased a second shirt, so as to avoid -the necessity of going without one occasionally, as was the case, when -of an evening, taking advantage of some secluded nook, he took off the -only one he had, washed it in the stream and dried it on the grass of -the bank. The idea of possessing a pair of stockings to dance in on -holidays presented itself to his imagination in the distant future, -around which crowded in perspective the inexhaustible joys of life. -Then came the thoughts of a more solid happiness, and all the ambitions -of an honourable man. He was able to set up for himself; to work on -his own account; to withdraw his father from the wretched life his -wicked companion forced him to lead, and secure to him a tranquil old -age, due to his son who loved him notwithstanding his irregularities. -Then, his thoughts rushing over intervening years, Gervais would -quicken his steps as if to reach the future, and his imagination -warmed, as the sun rose, and shed its brilliant beams over the horizon. - -Whilst abandoning himself to these reveries, he felt something cool -and moist pressing against his hand. It was the nose of Medor; who, -after licking his hand, looked at him and wagged his tail, but with an -expression which seemed to ask a question; and having smelt him from -head to foot, he went on, his nose in the air, and smelling constantly -with the same anxiety. Gervais called him back; Medor stopped, looked -at him with an uneasy expression, and continued his journey in the -same manner. It was quite evident that he was in search of something; -but being ignorant of what had taken place during the night, Gervais -was at a loss to conjecture what it could be. It struck him, that, -separated perhaps by some accident, Medor and his master might now be -in search of each other, and with this idea, he could not suppose that -Va-bon-train was still at the inn, whither Medor would undoubtedly -have returned; it seemed to him, therefore, the best plan, to allow -the animal to obey his instinct, contenting himself with following him -so as to prevent his going astray, and preserve him from the danger of -being taken or killed as a dog without an owner. He rejoiced in the -opportunity thus afforded him of rendering his uncle a service; and, -imagining that Medor had had nothing to eat, he gave him a part of the -bread he had bought for his day's provision, and which the poor thing -devoured with as much appetite as his agitation would permit. They -then continued their journey together, Medor being always in advance, -except when, from time to time, some new fancy seemed to seize him. -Then he would turn as if to retrace his steps, again stop and moan: -alternately swayed by the instinct and affection which drew him towards -his master, and that which hurried him on to the recovery of what had -been confided to his care. Gervais would then call him, and, decided by -the voice of his friend, Medor would return and continue his pursuit. - -They journeyed thus for about two hours, when all at once, at a part -where the road, somewhat hollow, wound in such a manner as to prevent -a distant view, Medor, rushing forward, dashed round the corner with -such rapidity that Gervais could not doubt that he had found his -master. Then redoubling his speed, he also advanced trembling between -hope and fear, and was most disagreeably surprised, when, at the turn -of the road, he perceived his father, La Mauricaude, the ass, and -Thomas, in the greatest embarrassment, contending with Medor, who, -without any provocation, and with all the consideration due to old -acquaintanceship, had seized upon Thomas in such a manner, that the boy -found it impossible to disengage himself from the animal's enormous -claws, which, fixed upon the lad's shoulders, served as a support to -Medor, who, by smelling about in all directions, at last discovered an -old cloth bag lined with leather, which was placed upon the back of -the ass, and the cords of which, unhappily for Thomas, had been wound -round his arm. Medor's teeth laboured both at the cords and at the -bag, which he endeavoured to open, almost upsetting Thomas at every -effort; the latter, in despair, and screaming with terror, clung with -all his strength to Martin's pack-saddle. "What is the matter with the -dog?" quietly asked Matthew, who had been a calm spectator of a scene, -which to him had the advantage of rousing him from his apathy. But -La Mauricaude, at once furious and frightened, gave the animal some -violent blows with a stick. Medor, however, did not seem conscious of -them. At length, seizing a large stone, she threw it at him; it struck -him on the hind leg, and he fell howling, dragging down Thomas in his -fall; the ass also was shaken, and even Matthew was astonished. Gervais -only arrived in time to address a word of reproach to La Mauricaude, -who was busied in raising her son: he then ran after Medor, who had -fled, howling, and limping on three legs. He succeeded in catching -him, and found that one of his hind legs was broken. Submissive like a -suffering animal to the friend who seeks to relieve him, Medor lay down -close to him, and allowed him to examine his leg. Fortunately, Gervais -was able to repair the mischief. Naturally kind hearted, it was to that -branch of his business which treats of the cure of animals, that he had -directed his attention with the greatest interest, and he had already -been successful in a case somewhat similar. Matthew, who, when left to -his own free will, was always inclined to sympathise with his son, and -who, moreover, was delighted at having an opportunity of returning for -a moment to his former occupations, willingly assisted his pupil, now -become more skilful than himself. The instruments of his art, treasures -which Gervais carefully preserved, together with some medicines -which he had renewed, or added to, as opportunity permitted, were -found sufficient for the emergency. By the united efforts of the two -operators, whom La Mauricaude also consented to aid, for reasons which -may perhaps be guessed, the leg was well set; and a piece of the last -handkerchief that Gervais possessed, and the enormous rents of which -he had often contemplated with a sigh, served as a bandage to confine -the dressing; and Medor, led by Gervais, was enabled to continue his -journey without much pain. - -Somewhat cast down by his accident, however, poor Medor was no longer -able to pursue his search with the same vigour; and besides, during -the operation, Thomas, instructed by his mother, had transferred -Scaramouche, together with the Madras handkerchiefs, into one of -Martin's panniers, where, covered over with straw, they were less -exposed to the keen scent of the animal. Nevertheless, some secret -charm always attracted him to the side on which they were, and Gervais -was astonished at the difficulty which he found in restraining him. -Wishing to divert him from this fancy, and determined to go direct -to Lyons, as the surest place of meeting with his uncle, Gervais -seized the first opportunity offered by their stopping at a tavern, -to separate himself from the troop, with which he had so unluckily -come up. But he was not a little annoyed at perceiving, after a few -moments, that he was followed in the distance by Thomas, who seemed -commissioned to act as a spy upon his movements, while the rest of the -caravan appeared soon afterwards. The fertile genius of La Mauricaude -had immediately suggested to her the advantage to be derived from the -possession of Medor, a magnificent dog in excellent condition, who -might be sold at a very high price. The difficulty was to divert the -vigilance of Gervais, whom at the same time it was necessary to keep -in view, until she had accomplished her design. The following days, -therefore, were passed in a perpetual struggle, Gervais endeavouring to -recover his liberty, and La Mauricaude seeking to prevent his escape -from their odious company. She was singularly seconded by Medor, whose -instinct she aroused by taking advantage of every opportunity that -offered to approach him unobserved, and permit him to get a distant -scent of Scaramouche, the companion of all his travels, the one of all -his master's mimic company with whom he had lived on the most familiar -terms, when Va-bon-train and his son, in their leisure moments, had -endeavoured to invent for him new attitudes, and to rehearse new -performances. Then all Medor's affection would revive, he would rush -with a plaintive cry upon the cords which restrained him; but before -this movement could warn Gervais of what was passing, La Mauricaude -had said to Thomas, "Hide Scaramouche," and Thomas, obedient to his -instructions, had concealed the precious talisman. Matthew, who was -sometimes a witness of these proceedings, demanded the meaning of them; -but they deceived him with a feigned tale, told him to be silent, and -he was so. But in his evening enjoyments at the tavern, purchased -during these days, by the successive sale of the Madras handkerchiefs, -he nightly repeated, with a degree of feeling amounting even to tears, -"As for me, I have nothing to do with all this; for, at all events, it -is certain that I am an honest man." - -To the many annoyances which, at this time, fell to the lot of poor -Gervais, was added the far greater one of being unsuccessful in his -attempts to obtain work. In vain had he gone to the right and to the -left, wherever he had been led to hope that it might be procured. -Everywhere his hopes were frustrated, and, at the same time, the -expense of keeping Medor had rapidly accelerated the consumption of -his little store, although the condition of the poor dog sufficiently -attested the frugality of his repasts. It grieved Gervais to the heart -to see his downcast look, and a certain expression of sadness, which -seemed to ask for what it was out of the power of his protector to -bestow; for he had given him all he could give, scarcely reserving -anything for his own support. - -In consequence of his many deviations from the high road in these -fruitless endeavours to obtain work, and to escape the inevitable -Mauricaude; they at last reached Saturday, the 21st of August, and were -still eleven leagues from Lyons. It was six o'clock in the evening, and -neither Gervais nor Medor had eaten anything since the previous night. -Exhausted by this fast, as well as by the low diet of the few preceding -days, they walked with difficulty: and yet they had still a league to -go before they could arrive at the village of Auberive, where Gervais -had determined to stop, and where, as a last resource, he intended to -sell his shoes, in order to have the means of reaching Lyons on the -following Monday, the term alike of his hopes and resources. For some -moments he had watched Medor with great anxiety, for he saw that he -was panting more than usual. The day had been excessively oppressive; -and the idea that the want of food, added to the heat and fatigue, -exposed the dog to the danger of madness, presented itself to his -imagination, and filled him with terror. While seated for a moment's -rest, a peasant boy, of about his own age, happened to pass by, eating, -with a good appetite, a piece of bread. This sight roused the desires -of the half-famished Gervais, and Medor raised his now animated eye, -and wanted to run to the boy, to ask him for a portion of his meal. -Unable to resist the temptation he felt, and, above all, the appeal of -the companion of his journey, Gervais asked the lad if he would buy his -shoes, promising that he would sell them cheap. - -"How much?" demanded the boy. - -"If you have some bread, I will take that, and ten sous besides." - -"I have only six sous," replied the rustic, roughly; "and, besides, I -don't want your shoes." - -"If you have any bread, comrade," continued Gervais, who could not -resist the hope with which he had just flattered himself, "give it to -me with the six sous, and the shoes shall be yours." - -"As for the bread, there is no difficulty about that," replied the -boy; and he took from his bag a piece, weighing about a pound, too -eager to conclude so good a bargain to perceive that he might have -made it still better. Three two-sous pieces terminated the affair, and -two-thirds of the pound of bread were at once set apart as the portion -of Medor, whom Gervais saw, with a melancholy pleasure, devour in a -moment, a piece to which he had nothing to add. Medor's repast, in -fact, was ended, before Gervais had got half through his; and, with a -longing eye, the poor dog watched the piece which the latter held in -his hand, gently whined, and scratched his knee with his great paw, in -order to obtain the little that remained. "You are very hungry, then, -my poor Medor," said Gervais: "well then, this also shall be yours." He -gave him the whole; and the sacrifice was sufficiently great, at that -moment, to make him think he had acquired a right to the affection of -his uncle. He then rose to continue his journey, hoping to be able to -reach Auberive; but, whether from want of food, or because the heat of -the day had exhausted him, after proceeding a few steps, he was obliged -to lean for support against a tree, and, at last, sank to the ground, -almost senseless. Induced either by curiosity or remorse, the young -peasant who had bought the shoes occasionally looked back towards him. -He saw him fall, and returned, but could give no assistance. He spoke -to him, but Gervais was scarcely able to answer. Medor watched his -friend with an uneasy look; and the peasant, who perhaps might have -been little sensible to other evils, was moved by the sight of a misery -which he could understand, and felt some comfort at the thought that, -at all events, Gervais had not been rendered worse by having sold his -shoes for a quarter of their value. - -Providence at that moment directed to the spot another traveller, who -came on at a vigorous pace, his coat neatly folded in a handkerchief, -and suspended from a stick which he carried on his shoulder. It was -Master Blanchet. He approached Gervais, but did not at first recognise -him. "Has that boy fainted from hunger?" said he to the young peasant. -"I think he has," replied the lad, "for he had but one bit of bread, -and he gave almost all of it to his dog." Meanwhile, Master Blanchet -drew from his bundle a small flask of brandy, with which he always -took care to be provided when on a journey, and made Gervais swallow -a few drops of it, while the addition of a piece of bread and a slice -of sausage completed his recovery. "A little patience," said Gervais -to Medor, who wanted to share this repast also. "Poor Medor," he -continued, caressing him, "all our troubles are over now," for he had -recognised Master Blanchet, but did not as yet dare to express his -joy except in this indirect manner. Struck by the name of Medor, and -by the voice of Gervais, which was beginning to assume its natural -tone, Blanchet recognized him, was greatly astonished, and put to him -many questions; while the peasant lad, who thought he saw Gervais -glance towards the shoes, which perhaps at that moment he regretted -having parted with so easily, blushed, and walked away, persuaded that -his further stay was no longer necessary to any one, and might be -disadvantageous to himself. - -Gervais' tale was simple enough; he had nothing but the truth to tell; -the only difficulty was to explain the nature of his connexion with -Va-bon-train. Seeing that the latter had not acknowledged him as his -nephew, he felt that in their respective positions it was not for him -to be the first to break the silence. Thus, when Blanchet asked him -how he had become known to his friend, Gervais replied, "He will tell -you that himself; it is not my business to speak of his affairs." -Blanchet questioned him on all sides, but without being able to elicit -any further information; nevertheless, his replies displayed so much -integrity, together with so much good sense and caution, that he began -to feel a great respect for him; a feeling which was much increased -after he had examined Medor's paw, which was then in progress of cure, -and which he found perfectly well set. He could not doubt, therefore, -of the talents of Gervais in the different branches of his art. He took -him with him to Auberive, where he intended to pass the night, so as to -reach Lyons without fatigue on the next day but one. Plenty of onion -soup, and a good omelette, procured for Gervais the best meal which -had touched his lips for many a day. Medor was also able to make up for -his previous fast; and, to complete the happiness of Gervais, he found, -at the inn where they stopped, the lad to whom he had sold his shoes. -Master Blanchet commented so loudly on the disgrace of such a bargain -in such circumstances, and his remarks were so fully approved of by -all who heard them, that, whether from fear, or shame, or conscience, -the lad consented to return the shoes at the price which he had given -for them, and even made it a point of honour to refuse the value of -the pound of bread, a sacrifice which procured for him from Blanchet a -good draught of wine and a slice of sausage. Thus everything fell into -order, and Gervais a second time thought himself at the summit of his -hopes; but another day, and another trial, were still to be encountered. - -The little room in which Master Blanchet and Gervais slept could not, -manage as they would, accommodate a third guest, of the size of Medor. -He was, therefore, lodged in the stable; and Gervais, confiding in his -new-born happiness, the first earnest of which he had just received, -resigned himself to sleep without any anxiety for the safety of his -protegé; the more so as, since the morning, he had seen nothing of -the odious Mauricaude, and therefore believed himself freed from -her at last. Nevertheless, on the following morning Medor had again -disappeared; whether in consequence of some new stratagem on the part -of La Mauricaude, or from the instinct which urged him to the pursuit -of Scaramouche, or the desire to return to his master, could never be -ascertained. But certain it is, however, that by this new imprudence -he fell into the snare which had long been laid for him; and the first -information which the inquiries of Gervais elicited made it certain, -that it was only by following the traces of La Mauricaude that he -could hope to recover those of Medor. A double affection made success -a necessity for him. He therefore requested the permission of Master -Blanchet, under whose authority he already considered himself, to go -in search of the fugitive; and Blanchet appointed, as their place of -meeting in the evening, the village of Saint Syphorien, or, as it is -sometimes called, Symphorien, situated about four leagues from Lyons, -where he intended to pass the night. - -Gervais spent a part of the day in a fruitless search in the -neighbourhood. At length some indications led him to the town of -Vienne; there he lost them; but, on describing the retinue of La -Mauricaude, he was informed, that in all probability she was gone -to Saint Syphorien, as it happened to be its fête day. He made all -possible haste to reach the place, and arrived there about seven -o'clock in the evening. The first object which struck him as he entered -the village was La Mauricaude, in conversation with a man to whom she -seemed on the point of delivering over Medor, who, sorrowfully resigned -to his new condition, appeared cast down by the vicissitudes of his -fate. At the sight of Gervais, however, his animation returned, and he -started as if to rush towards him. - -"That is my dog," exclaimed Gervais, who at the moment thought only of -his claims to Medor; and the dog, by the expression of his joy, seemed -anxious to confirm his words. - -"'Tis false, you thief," replied La Mauricaude, with her customary -amenity. "Medor!" she added; and, thus addressed, the dog turned his -head, as if to prove that he recognized his name, as well as the voice -by which it was pronounced. "You see very well that he knows me," she -continued, with a volley of abuse and oaths, which we need not repeat. - -"Nevertheless, the dog does not belong to you," said Gervais. - -"Nor to you either, liar," &c. &c. - -The dispute had been carried on in so vehement a tone, that it was -impossible for Gervais to expose the truth of the matter. A third -interest, that of the purchaser of the dog, already compromised by a -considerable sum paid in advance, was here introduced, as a further -complication of the affair, when an exclamation from a terrible voice -announced the approach of Va-bon-train, who, having reached Saint -Syphorien, and learning the cause of the quarrel, came forward to cut -short all disputes. He made his way through the crowd, and had already -his left hand on Medor, while his whip, raised in the other, menaced -Gervais, who, drawing back with indignation, though still with respect, -endeavoured to avoid the necessity of defending himself otherwise than -by words. Nevertheless, had it not been for Medor's transports of -joy, which somewhat embarrassed his master's movements, Va-bon-train -would have been already upon him, and Gervais must have submitted -to the cruel alternative of either failing in respect to his uncle, -or of enduring an ignominious treatment, the bare idea of which was -insupportable to him. - -"He is a thief," exclaimed the perfidious Mauricaude, taking advantage -of this opportunity to turn upon another the accusation which she -herself merited. "He said the dog was his!" and several voices -simultaneously repeated, "Yes, he did say so." - -"You have been seen all along the road," continued Va-bon-train, -"dragging him after you in spite of his resistance;" and a voice -repeated, "I saw him." It was in vain that Gervais endeavoured to make -himself heard,--the public opinion was against him. Assailed by a -crowd of painful emotions, and distressed above all by the treatment -he received from him whose gratitude he so much merited, he felt his -courage forsake him, and could no longer restrain his tears, tears -which only seemed to be an additional evidence against him. Several -persons interposed between him and his uncle, but he himself no -longer thought of safety; and whilst the efforts of Va-bon-train were -redoubled, in order to get near him, notwithstanding the endeavours of -the crowd to prevent it, Gervais was exhausting his, in demanding as a -suppliant the justice due to his innocence. Michael, whom his father -had pushed away from him, not knowing what to think of his friend, but -deeply distressed at the sight of the misfortunes which overwhelmed -him, and the danger which still threatened him, seemed to appeal to all -around to intercede for a reconciliation which every moment appeared -to render impossible. However, Heaven again came to the assistance -of Gervais, by directing Master Blanchet to the spot. Attracted by -the noise, he came out from the house of a friend with whom he had -supped; and Michael, perceiving him, ran to meet him. The name of -Medor, mingled in the almost unintelligible explanations given by the -agitated Michael, led Blanchet to suppose that his young friend Gervais -might have something to do in the matter; he therefore hastened his -steps, and arrived at the very moment when, by an increased exertion of -strength and anger, Va-bon-train, forcing his way through the crowd, -was about to rush upon Gervais. Blanchet seized him by the shoulders, -and pushed him backwards, saying, "Stop! stop! there's time enough for -anger, but not always for explanation." - -Less disposed than ever to profit by this good advice, Va-bon-train -was, in all probability, upon the point of turning his rage against him -who offered it, when a new incident arose to change once more the face -of the affair. Matthew approached the scene of action, and Martin and -Jacquot, under his guidance, were added to the spectators. Jacquot had -not been deaf to certain words, which for several days past had struck -his attentive ears. Encouraged probably by the noise, he began to -repeat, though in a timid and uncertain tone, and as if he were saying -a lesson, which he was not quite sure of knowing,--"Thomas, hide -Scaramouche!" - ---"Scaramouche!" repeated Michael, who had heard him; and now Jacquot, -more sure of what he was about, went on, and constantly raising his -voice in proportion as the noise around him increased, and excited him, -his words at length reached the ears of Va-bon-train, who turned round; -while Medor, taking advantage of his first moment of liberty, rushed -upon Martin, and this time rummaging, without obstacle, in the bottom -of the pannier, dragged out the unfortunate Scaramouche, who, all -crippled and disordered as he was, still retained sufficient life to -express by his attitudes the distress of his condition. Medor advanced -and placed him triumphantly in the hands of his master; who, in his -surprise and joy, knew not to which of his two friends to offer his -first caresses. But Medor had not finished his task; and returning to -the pannier, notwithstanding the efforts of La Mauricaude, who hastened -to the defence of her booty, he drew from it the last of the Madras -handkerchiefs, which she had preserved for her own use. - -"Infamous old toad!" exclaimed Va-bon-train, "'tis you, then, who have -robbed me." And immediately turning towards Gervais, whom the presence -of Blanchet had encouraged to approach, "Why were you with her?" he -demanded, in a tone which already indicated his desire of finding him -less in fault. - ---"I was not with her," said Gervais. "They were not together," -repeated several of the voices which had at first borne testimony -against him. - -"And why did you take away my dog?" again demanded Va-bon-train. - ---"In order to bring him back to you, and to prevent him from following -her." Then the accusations began to turn upon La Mauricaude. One -recognized her as having given him on the previous evening a bad -ten-sous piece; another had seen Thomas skulking about his house, and -an hour after, found that a fowl had been stolen. La Mauricaude began -to vociferate, and then to cry as she saw the storm increase, and -direct itself against her; meanwhile Gervais drew near his father, who, -already more than half intoxicated, and hardly able to understand what -he heard, contented himself, without taking any part in the matter, by -affirming, that, "as for him, he was an honest man." - -"Get out of my way, you fool!" said his brother, pushing him behind -him; then advancing towards La Mauricaude, who, still vociferating and -crying, was endeavouring to make her escape, amid the hootings which -pursued her, he contented himself with cracking his whip in her ears to -hasten her steps. The crowd by which she was accompanied, diminished -as she retreated, and by degrees the clamours of the little boys, who -alone persisted in following her, died away. These assailants she -dispersed by throwing stones at them, and they afterwards reported that -they had seen both her and her son Thomas join a band of gipsies, who -were on the point of departure. From that time she has never been heard -of. - -Quiet was once more restored at Saint Syphorien, and Va-bon-train -received from Blanchet the explanations necessary to establish the good -conduct of his nephew. "But where, in the name of Fortune, did you meet -with him?" continued Blanchet. "He would never tell me." - -"What, Gervais!" said Va-bon-train, "will you not acknowledge me for -your uncle?" Michael, transported with joy, once more threw his arms -round the neck of his friend, and Va-bon-train afterwards received the -acknowledgments of his nephew's grateful affection. "Now then, what is -to be done with Matthew," said Va-bon-train--"now that he has got rid -of his old toad?" "He cannot live alone," said Gervais, casting down -his eyes. - -"Well, then, let him come with me," continued Va-bon-train; "Martin -will, at all events, be learned enough to carry a part of my baggage, -which is becoming too heavy for Medor. I will teach Jacquot many -capital things, and we shall get on very well together." - -These words rendered Gervais completely happy, and the gratitude -inspired by his uncle's kindness towards himself, was far exceeded -by what he now experienced, on account of his father. They went for -Matthew to the tavern, where they found him still drinking, the longer -to defer the moment of payment. This difficulty was removed by his -brother, who thenceforth considered himself as charged with his care. -The arrangement was proposed to him, and he accepted it, just as he -would have done, had he been sober, only that he repeated a little -oftener, and with rather more emotion than usual, "You, Vincent, know -very well, that I at least am an honest man." - -They had a joyful supper that night, Medor remaining at the side of the -table, with his head upon his master's knee, which he left only to give -a slight caress to Michael, or a look and a wag of his tail to Gervais. -The following day, before their departure for Lyons, Gervais received -from the generosity of his uncle, the pair of stockings, the shirt, and -the two handkerchiefs, necessary to complete his outfit, and had the -satisfaction of arriving with him at the workshop of Master Blanchet, -not as a poor boy, received almost as an act of charity, but as a good -workman, countenanced and recommended by respectable relatives. - -He has justified their hopes and his own, having become Master -Blanchet's head workman; he is about to marry his only daughter, -and his father-in-law, rich enough to retire, has given up to him a -business, which Gervais will not allow to decline under his care. -Matthew, who only needs guidance, contents himself with being a little -merry after his first meal, and a little sleepy after the last. He -hopes to spend a peaceful old age with his son, while Va-bon-train, -who, without being old, is also anxious for repose, has purchased a -small property, married again, and given up his marionettes and the -faithful Medor to his son Michael. Matthew has generously added the -ass, and Jacquot, and has announced for Gervais' wedding-day, "_a -performance for the benefit of friendship, in which is to be seen -the wonderful dispute between peerless Jacquot and the incomparable -Scaramouche_." - - - - -CECILIA AND NANETTE; - -OR, THE ACCIDENT. - - -It was in the month of December; the church clock had just struck -five, and the morning was very dark, when one of the servants of the -inn came to inform Madame de Vesac, and her daughter Cecilia, that the -carriage was ready, and that they could continue their journey. They -had left Paris early on the previous day, for the purpose of visiting -the estate of Madame de Vesac, to which she had been called by urgent -business. The distance was a hundred and fifty leagues, and they had -travelled by post; they had been on the road till ten o'clock on the -previous evening, and were now about to resume their journey after -having taken a few hours' repose. Madame de Vesac called her daughter; -Cecilia, terribly sleepy, half opened her eyes, then let her head fall -back again upon her pillow. Her mother was obliged to call a second, -and even a third time, and she awoke up at last, exclaiming "Oh dear! -dear! how disagreeable it is to get up at five o'clock in the morning -at this time of year!" She would have said, had she dared, "Oh dear! -what a misfortune!" for every contradiction or suffering, however -slight, always assumed, with Cecilia, the character of a misfortune. At -every little accident that befel her, she fancied that no one had ever -suffered so much as she did, and really believed that cold, hunger, -thirst, and sleepiness, were with her quite different matters from what -they were with other people. When laughed at for the disproportionate -annoyance which the petty inconveniences of life occasioned her, she -would say "Oh! you do not feel as I feel!" and, indeed, believed so. - -Nevertheless, as Cecilia possessed a generous disposition, an elevated -mind, a lively imagination, and a due share of pride, she had a -passionate admiration for high and noble actions, and even a great -desire to imitate them, sometimes saying that she would give everything -in the world for an opportunity of becoming a heroine. "Provided," her -mother would add with a smile, "that your acts of heroism never exposed -you to the chance of being scratched by a thorn, or to the necessity of -walking a few steps in uneasy shoes." And then Cecilia, a little vexed, -would maintain that such things as these had nothing whatever to do -with heroism. - -Madame de Vesac had not been able to bring her maid with her, as she -was ill at the time they left home. This rendered their arrivals at -the inns, and especially their departures, more disagreeable, as they -were themselves obliged to pack and unpack their luggage, and attend to -a variety of troublesome details. Madame de Vesac spared her daughter -these inconveniences as far as possible. On the present occasion, she -had allowed her to sleep until the last moment, and when Cecilia awoke, -almost everything was ready for their journey. Still it was necessary -to arrange and pack up her night-things, and see that nothing was -forgotten; and the cold and the darkness had so chilled her courage, -that nothing but shame prevented her from shedding tears at every -effort she made, and every step she took. And yet she was thirteen -years old; but at no age do people cease to be children, if they allow -themselves to attach importance to every whim that may cross their -minds, or to every trifling inconvenience which they may have to -bear. Cecilia had much more trouble, and was much longer about what -she had to do than would have been necessary had she set courageously -to work. "Make haste," repeated her mother every moment, and Cecilia -made haste, but with the air of one who had no heart for what she was -about. To have given herself this, nothing was required but a slight -effort, a slight exertion of her reason: she need only have said, -"What I have to do at present is so far from being beyond my powers, -as I try to persuade myself, that if I felt the least wish to do it I -should find no difficulty in it." But Cecilia did not choose to desire -what would have been so beneficial to her, and, for the sake of saving -herself a single mental effort, sufficient to conquer her repugnance -and idleness, she allowed herself to relapse into them every moment, -and submitted to the continued exertions demanded by every action and -movement. - -At last, all was ready; Madame de Vesac and her daughter entered -their carriage and departed. Cecilia's griefs, however, being still -undiminished, the night was so dark, and so cold, and she had so little -courage to resist the feeling of sadness which it induced. She shivered -in her wadded dress, and beneath her two or three shawls; her fur shoes -did not prevent her from complaining of the _deadly coldness_ of her -feet, nor could she sufficiently cover her hands with her dress, though -already encased in fur gloves. At length, in spite of her distress, she -fell asleep, and slept quietly until it was broad daylight. When she -awoke, the sun had already dissipated the thick fog of the morning. -It shone brilliantly over the country covered with snow, and was even -felt through the windows of the carriage. Everything seemed to announce -a fine winter's day, and her heart began to revive. They stopped for -breakfast, and took it in a comfortable warm room, and this completely -restored her energy and cheerfulness. Her mother then began to jest -about the despair she had manifested a few hours before. "I see," she -said, "that for the acts of heroism to which you purpose to devote -yourself, you will be careful to select the months of July and August, -for cold is quite adverse to your virtue." - -"But mamma," said Cecilia, "how can you expect one to stir, when one's -fingers are benumbed with cold?" - -"Since, though complaining the whole time, you did nevertheless manage -to do so, I presume the thing was possible, but I perceive, at the -same time, that such an effort must have something in it surpassing -the highest courage, and were it not for the terrible fatality which -has subjected you to so severe a trial, I should have been extremely -careful not to have required anything of the kind from you." - -"However, it is quite certain, mamma, that one might choose some better -time for travelling than the month of December." - -"Not if it happened to be in that month that one had business to attend -to which required travelling. You will one day learn, my child, that -there are things more impossible than enduring the cold, or even than -moving one's fingers when they are benumbed. You remember what Cæsar -said: _It is necessary that I should go, and it is not necessary that I -should live_. - -"One might very well expose one's life, on occasions of importance, and -yet not be able to do impossibilities, however important they might be." - -"Such as putting in a pin or tying a shoe when one is cold?" - -"I do not mean that," replied Cecilia, a little out of humour, "and -besides you will allow, mamma, that our affairs are not of such -importance as those of Cæsar." - -"How do you know that? the importance of things is relative; I am -not called upon to overturn the world; such a thing would give me -no pleasure, but I have to settle a matter to which your father -attaches great importance, and to show myself worthy of the confidence -he reposed in me, when, on leaving for the army he placed all his -affairs in my hands; in fine, it is necessary for me that he should -be pleased with me, for on this depends the happiness of my life; and -on your part, it is necessary that you should prove yourself able to -support with courage unavoidable inconveniences. All these things are -important, and yet," added Madame de Vesac, smiling, "I do not think we -run any risk of dying on account of them." - -"Oh, no! mamma," said Cecilia, smiling too, "but I assure you that even -Cæsar would have found it very cold this morning." - -"I have not the least doubt of it; but Cæsar was such a great man! -Do you know, Cecilia, that if we were to examine with care, I feel -sure that among his great actions we should find many which must have -benumbed his feet and hands." - -"In that case," said Cecilia, somewhat drily, "he must have been very -fortunate if he could find matters to attend to which would prevent his -thinking of the cold, for it is certainly very disagreeable." - -"Undoubtedly," replied Madame de Vesac, carelessly; "but there are some -persons who can manage to think of every thing. I am persuaded, for -instance, that had you been in Clælia's place, when, flying from the -camp of Porsenna, she crossed the Tiber on horseback, you would have -found it excessively disagreeable, to have been obliged to wet your -feet." - -"Well, mamma," said Cecilia with animation, "you ought to be delighted -at that, since you are continually telling me that instead of wishing -to be a heroine, it is quite enough to attend to one's duties merely." - -"Certainly; but I who make no pretensions to heroism, find that mere -duty is sometimes quite sufficient to employ all our powers, and that -it is impossible that we can always do what simple duty requires, -unless we have learned to bear cold, fatigue, and even the misfortune -of having to get up at five o'clock in the morning in the month of -December." - -"It is nevertheless certain, mamma, that there are things which it is -quite impossible to do, such as walking when one is tired." - -"Or moving one's fingers when they are cold, for instance. Undoubtedly -there are things which are impossible to every one, but the difference -I find between Cæsar and you is, that in his case the impossibility -came much later, and that at the degree of fatigue at which you would -say _I cannot walk_, he would have said _I must walk_, and would have -found strength to proceed. You are not aware how much strength people -possess when they really wish to make use of it." - -"I assure you, mamma," replied Cecilia, with some slight degree of -temper, "that when I say I cannot do a thing I really cannot." - -"I am sure of that, but I should like to know whence arises the -impossibility. Pray think of this at the first opportunity. It is -necessary that I should know whether you are really weaker than other -people." - -Cecilia made no reply; she was perfectly persuaded that no one -understood her sufferings, and had never asked herself whether she were -not made like other people, and consequently able to endure what they -endured. The day passed well enough, and when night came she slept. - -She was sleeping soundly, when a violent jerk suddenly aroused her. -"Gracious! what is the matter?" she exclaimed. "We are upset," said -Madame de Vesac; and in fact at that moment, the carriage, which had -passed over a large stone, came to the ground with a violent shock, -and turned completely over on one side. Cecilia screamed, and fell -upon her mother. "Do not be frightened," said Madame de Vesac, who, -notwithstanding the inconvenience of her position, thought only of -her daughter. The carriage was stopped, and the postilion dismounted, -and came to their assistance. All this time Cecilia did not cease -screaming. "Where are you hurt?" asked her mother, trembling lest she -should be severely wounded. "Everywhere," replied Cecilia, unconscious -of what she said, the fright had so bewildered her. When the postilion -opened the door which happened to be uppermost, Cecilia knew not what -to do to extricate herself from her position. "Get up," said the -postilion. - -"Get up," repeated her mother, but Cecilia replied, "I cannot," without -knowing whether she could or not, for she had not even tried. At last -the postilion, who was active and strong, raising her up, lifted her -out of the carriage, and thus freed her mother from a weight which -almost overpowered her and made her feel ready to faint. Then Madame de -Vesac, in her turn, getting out with the assistance of the postilion, -hastened to her daughter, whom she was delighted to find standing up, -although motionless, and not knowing whether she had a limb of which -she could make use. In a little while, being somewhat reassured by her -mother's voice, Cecilia began to answer the repeated questions put to -her to ascertain where she was hurt. Both her knees were bruised, and -her elbow grazed: she had a slight swelling on the head, a bonnet box -had pressed her side, and her foot, which happened to be under the seat -of the carriage, was a little swelled. "I am so bruised all over that -I cannot move," she said, moving, however, the whole time in every -direction to feel where she was hurt. She asked her mother whether -she, too, were not hurt. "I think," replied Madame de Vesac, "I have -sprained my wrist, for it is very painful, and I cannot use my hand." - -"Just like my foot," replied Cecilia, and saying so, she began to walk. -Madame de Vesac smiled, but said nothing. She wrapped her hand in her -shawl, the ends of which she tied round her so as to support her wrist, -and then busied herself with what was to be done. Recovered from the -first shock of their fall, and congratulating themselves on having -escaped so well, they nevertheless found themselves placed in a very -unpleasant predicament. Comtois, the only servant who had accompanied -them, had gone on before, as a courier, to prepare the horses. The -postilion, unable by himself to raise the carriage, was obliged to -go for assistance to the post-house, from which they were still at -a considerable distance. Madame de Vesac and Cecilia, therefore, as -they could not follow him since he went on horseback, nor reach the -post-house alone, as they were ignorant of the way, were obliged to -remain on the road until his return. The night was extremely dark, -and the cold, without being very intense, was sharp and disagreeable. -A sleet was falling, which, as it reached the ground, was converted -into ice. The carriage, completely overturned, afforded no shelter, -and to the other inconveniences of their position, was added that of -being quite alone at ten o'clock at night upon the high road. Madame de -Vesac, however courageous, was not without uneasiness, but she knew it -was useless to give way to it; and when Cecilia, a little terrified, -asked her if they were to remain alone, "You see we must," she replied, -in a tranquil voice, which gave her daughter to understand, that though -she was aware of the inconvenience of the arrangement, she nevertheless -submitted to it with calmness, because it was necessary. Cecilia -herself saw this necessity so plainly that she made no reply; but when -after unharnessing the horses, and securing two of them to a tree, the -postilion mounted the third to go and seek assistance; when she saw him -depart, when the sound of his horse's feet growing fainter and fainter -at last ceased to fall upon her ear, then her heart shrank with terror, -a cold perspiration covered her limbs, and she drew close to her -mother. Madame de Vesac perceived her alarm, but made no remark, well -knowing that nothing so much increases terror as speaking of it. She -merely endeavoured to restore her confidence a little, by giving her, -on her own part, an example of courage and tranquillity. - -The wind became more violent, the sleet increased, and a heavy fall of -snow began to mingle with it: Madame De Vesac and her daughter went -over to the side where the carriage offered some defence against the -rain and snow which were beating into their faces; but this shelter did -not long suffice, the gusts of wind became so violent, that Cecilia -was twice on the point of losing her hat, notwithstanding the ribbons -by which it was confined. It was with difficulty that they kept their -shawls around them; the snow assailed them on all sides, melting upon -them, and penetrating their clothes; and they were benumbed by a damp -coldness, from which their inability to move left them no means of -escape. Cecilia did not think of complaining, for no one could have -assisted her; besides, she could not doubt that her mother suffered as -much as herself, and complaints are seldom made except to excite the -pity of those who seem better off than we are, and who, therefore, are -able to think of us rather than of themselves. Cecilia now discovered -how erroneous it is to suppose that any comfort is to be derived from -complaining: perhaps even she suffered less from her position, than -she would have done had she lamented it; but she did not make this -reflection, and it was natural that the necessity of the case should -render her more courageous. - -Madame de Vesac, however, fearing lest her daughter should become ill, -from the cold and damp which had penetrated her clothes, proposed to -her to seek shelter in a wood which extended on both sides of the road, -and the trees of which, though divested of their leaves, were at least -sufficiently close to break the violence of the wind and snow; but this -wood was the principal object of Cecilia's dread. Terrified at the -proposition, she could only utter the words, "Oh! mamma, to go into the -wood!" - -"Just as you like, my child," said Madame de Vesac, "but," she added, -smiling, "who do you think would come after us in such weather as this? -You may be quite sure there is nobody abroad but ourselves." - -Cecilia made no reply, her thoughts terrified her to such a degree that -she dared not utter them, and had she pronounced the word _robbers_, it -would have seemed to her that she was calling them; but at that moment -there came a gust so violent, that the carriage appeared shaken by it; -one of the blinds which happened to be down, was so violently agitated -that the cords snapped, and being no longer upheld it was lifted by the -wind, and struck Cecilia on the head. Seized with terror she sprang -from her place; the storm continued, she was unable to resist it, yet -dared not return to the carriage. Completely bewildered by the wind, -she neither knew where she was, nor what she did: and her mother taking -her by the arm led her into the wood, where she recovered a little -of her self-possession. Here the wind was much less violent, and as -always happens when we look at things closely, Cecilia having entered -the wood felt much less terrified, than while merely considering it -from the road. A copse where there happened to be a few trees, which -still retained their leaves, although it was the month of December, -had protected a few feet of ground from the snow, and afforded -the travellers a shelter from the wet. The double trunk of a tree -furnished them with a support, and they were at least in a situation -where they could await without excessive discomfort the assistance -which could not be far distant, when all at once Cecilia, whose eyes -were turned towards the copse, probably seeing the branches agitated -by the wind, fancied she perceived a figure moving and advancing -towards them. Completely bewildered by fright she seized her mother's -arm, and without saying a word dragged her on, as quickly as she was -able, through the bushes, plunging deeper into the wood to avoid the -terrible objects by which she believed herself pursued. Her mother, -astonished, after having followed her for a few steps endeavoured to -stop her. "Where are you going?" she said. "What is the matter?" But -Cecilia, whose terror was only increased by the sound of her mother's -voice, because she was afraid of its having been heard, continued -to drag her along with an extraordinary degree of strength, and her -mother, who would not leave her, was obliged to follow. At length, by -dint of talking she recalled her to herself; she stopped a moment and -said in a low tremulous voice, "Did you see him?"--"Who?" demanded -Madame de Vesac.--"Among the trees ... a man...." "I have seen no one, -you were mistaken, I assure you."--"Oh! I still hear him...." And she -was once more on the point of starting off, but her mother restrained -her. "My dear Cecilia," she said, greatly distressed at her condition; -"my dear child, be reasonable, take courage; there is no one there, I -assure you there is nothing to fear; confide in me who would not lead -you into danger, and whose judgment is calmer than yours." A little -restored by her mother's words, and the affectionate tone in which they -were uttered, Cecilia, ashamed of her fears, stopped, and restored her -mother's arm, which she still held, to its former position under her -shawl.--"Let us retrace our steps," said Madame de Vesac, "lest we -lose our way." Cecilia did not dare to say anything, but she shuddered -at the idea of again passing so near the copse. At this moment they -heard some one call them, and recognized the voice of Comtois. Cecilia -breathed more freely, and hastened to reply; but Comtois had entered -the wood at another part, and they stood still to discover whence the -voice proceeded. - -"It is in that direction, mamma," said Cecilia, who, delighted at the -thought of avoiding the copse, pointed to a road a little more to the -right than the one they were on the point of taking. Madame de Vesac -listened again, and the voice which still continued to call and answer, -seeming, in fact, to proceed from the right, she took the direction -indicated by Cecilia, and calling from time to time to Comtois, they -walked on towards the spot whence the sound was still heard to proceed, -but it seemed sometimes to approach, and sometimes to recede, for it -appeared that Comtois altered his course according to the place where -he thought they must be, and they themselves took first one direction -and then another, without being quite sure which was the right. This -state of uncertainty lasted for some minutes, but at length the voice -sensibly approached, and they heard steps through the trees. "Is that -you, Comtois?" It was he, and Cecilia in a transport of joy was ready -to throw her arms round his neck; she forgot the cold, the sleet, and -the wind; once freed from her former terror she now thought all her -troubles were at an end. Comtois informed them that he had procured -assistance, and that at that moment the men were engaged in raising -the carriage, to which he was going to conduct them. But the question -now was how to find the way, for, intent only on reaching each other, -neither Comtois nor Madame de Vesac had thought of observing their -route. They stopped to listen for some indication from the people at -the carriage, but the wind bore the sounds another way, or when they -did reach them, they were so faint and uncertain, that they concluded -they must have advanced further into the wood than they had supposed. -However, they directed their course towards the side on which they -concluded the high road lay, listening every moment to discover whether -the sounds increased in strength; sometimes Cecilia fancied she heard -voices, and even maintained that she could distinguish that of the -postilion: at other times hearing nothing she became uneasy, but the -joy of having found Comtois sustained her courage. At length she -exclaimed, "Mamma, I see an opening through the trees; that must be -the road." Madame de Vesac looked, and perceived, indeed, a spot where -the trees appeared to separate, but she did not think it was the high -road, and was astonished at not hearing any noise. Cecilia made her -hasten her steps, repeating, as she hurried her on, "There's the road, -there's the road!" Her mother cautioned her not to rejoice too soon; -but she did not listen to her, and was the first to reach a spot, open -indeed, but so surrounded by the wood on all sides, that it afforded no -means of egress, except by a path almost parallel to the one they had -just left. She stood petrified. - -"This is not the road," said Madame de Vesac. - -"Indeed," said Comtois, "I don't know where we are now." - -"What will become of us?" inquired Cecilia in a timid and anxious -voice, but without those exclamations so habitual to her, for in the -present moment of real fear and trouble her thoughts were more occupied -with the situation itself, than with the desire of vividly displaying -what she felt. - -"We must endeavour to get out of this place," replied Madame de Vesac. -"The road cannot be far off; but we must take a different direction -from the one we have come by." - -They once more stopped to listen and consult together; but they could -hear nothing whatever; and as to the path they were to take, there was -no choice except between the one by which they had come and another -which led in the same direction. Their consultation, therefore, could -not be of long duration. The second path seemed much better than the -one they had left, it was tolerably wide, and pretty well beaten; and -they hence concluded that it must necessarily lead to some frequented -place. They therefore determined to follow it, and recommenced their -journey with renewed courage; but Cecilia perceived that her mother -arranged in a different manner the end of the shawl, with which she -had contrived to support her arm, and that she occasionally carried -her other hand to it; and concluding from this that she must suffer -increased pain, she asked her about it. - -"We must not think of this now," said Madame de Vesac; so that Cecilia -was afraid to complain too much of her foot, which was beginning to -give her pain. She only said, "My foot is rather painful." She had -already endured sufficient real trouble during the night, to have -learned to be silent about inconveniences not worth complaining of. - -The snow fell with less violence, and the wind was somewhat abated, -so that in the wood the cold was quite bearable. Madame de Vesac -and her daughter, one on each side of Comtois, and supported by his -arm, walked without much difficulty in a path tolerably smooth, and -which the recently fallen snow prevented from being very slippery. -Reanimated by this momentary relief, they pursued this part of their -journey with tolerable cheerfulness, Madame de Vesac averring even that -her arm was less painful since the cold had diminished, and Cecilia -consoling herself with the hopes of soon being able to rest her foot -in the carriage. Comtois from time to time raised his voice and called -to the people at the carriage; but no one answered, and not a sound -reached their ears. Again the travellers began to feel uneasy at thus -continually advancing without any assurance that they were not going -further away from the spot they wished to reach. However, proceed they -must, for there was no reason to suppose that, in retracing their -steps, they would be able to find any better way. At last they came to -a point where the path was crossed by another precisely similar. They -were now in the utmost perplexity, for there was no inducement for -choosing one of the three paths rather than another, except perhaps -that as the one they had come by did not seem to have brought them any -nearer the road, it might be reasonable to choose between the other -two. But on which of them were they to fix? - -Comtois attempted to climb a rather tall tree which happened to be at -the entrance of one of the paths, hoping to be able to see from it the -road and the carriage; but, not to mention that his boots did not allow -him to climb with much agility, it happened that the first branch he -clung to was decayed and broke, and he fell, fortunately without being -much hurt; but Madame de Vesac, as well as Cecilia, whose own fall had -rendered her excessively timid, prevented him from making any further -attempt, by representing the frightful situation they would all be -in if any accident befell him. There was no alternative, therefore, -but to proceed, and let chance direct their course. They thought -they remembered that in diverging from the road they had several -times turned a little to the left; they consequently supposed that in -returning they must take the contrary direction. On this, therefore, -they fixed, not without much regret, however, at being unable to -ascertain whither the opposite path led; but it was not a time for -unavailing regrets, and they therefore made up their minds to trust -that they had selected the best. - -Nevertheless the spirits of the travellers began again to sink, -Cecilia's foot was considerably swelled, and fatigue had greatly added -to the pain of Madame de Vesac's arm, although her anxiety kept her -in a state of agitation which prevented her feeling it as much as she -would have done in calmer moments. Still this very anxiety was itself -a serious evil: there was no certainty of their finding their way; and -if chance did not guide them better than it had done thus far, she -calculated with terror the number of hours they must pass in the wood, -and the fatigues and sufferings they must endure whilst waiting for the -light. - -Cecilia, still more depressed, said nothing, and began to cease -thinking: fatigue and sadness absorbed all her faculties. - -The path they had taken terminated in a kind of cross-way, from which -branched off several narrower paths. They fixed upon what appeared the -widest and best; but it soon contracted to such a degree that Madame -de Vesac and her daughter were obliged to resign the arm of Comtois, -and allow him to walk in front and clear the way a little for them. The -density of the wood at this part had kept the ground moist, and this -moisture was now converted into ice, while the snow had been prevented -from falling sufficiently to cover the path. They walked one behind -the other, slipping at every step, and only able to keep themselves -from falling by laying hold of the trees. Every moment their feet -struck against the roots, or were caught in the trailing branches; -and Cecilia, constantly on the point of falling, soon became unable -to restrain her sobs. At last, at a very slippery part, she lost her -footing, and fell upon her knees. A bramble, which happened to be -across the path, caught in her clothes; and when she had succeeded in -extricating her dress from it, it became entangled in her shawl, then -got fastened to her gloves, and deprived her of the use of her hands. -She tried to rise, but no sooner had she put her foot upon the ground -than she slipped and again fell. Worn out as she already was, this -slight accident quite exhausted her courage. Madame de Vesac turned -round to give her her hand; but being near falling herself, she was -obliged to catch hold of a tree: she could only pity and endeavour to -encourage her daughter. - -"Mamma," said Cecilia, "I cannot go on; it is impossible." - -"My poor child," said Madame de Vesac, "are you quite sure it is -impossible? Think seriously of it; this is not a trial to be made for -pleasure merely, such as I proposed to you a short time since, but an -exertion of courage absolutely indispensable. Only consider, my dear -Cecilia," she added, in the most tender and caressing tone, "we have -nothing but our courage to extricate us from these difficulties; -but with courage I think we have still sufficient strength left to -enable us to go through a great deal. Would it not then be better to -call it forth than weakly to yield to our distress?" - -Thus saying, she assisted with her foot to extricate her from the -bramble, while supporting her with her knees. Cecilia made no reply, -but, raising herself up, continued her journey, and, feeling the truth -of her mother's words, she exerted all her strength to avoid future -complaints. Still she wept in silence; a weakness pardonable indeed, -but one, nevertheless, which added to her sufferings, as weakness ever -does. - -[Illustration: Cecilia and Nanette, p. 53.] - -They at last reached the end of this difficult route, and once more -found themselves at an opening in the wood, where several paths -terminated, but without being any better able to decide which they were -to take. Stopping for a moment to consider, they thought they heard at -no great distance a faint sound, which was not that of the wind. They -listened; "Good heavens!" exclaimed Cecilia, "I think I hear some one -crying;" and she shuddered as she spoke. - -They listened again, and fancied they could distinguish the voice of -a child. At length, after looking in every direction, favoured by the -light of the moon, which was beginning to disperse the clouds, they -perceived in a corner, a little within the opening, a figure standing -motionless, and leaning against a tree. Cecilia was frightened, and -clung tightly to the arm of Comtois. - -"Let us see what it is," said Madame de Vesac, the more anxiously, as -she still heard the sounds. - -On a nearer approach, they discovered that what they had seen was a -poor woman, leaning motionless against a tree, and who had by her side -a little girl about eight years old. The poor creature held something -in her arms, which, as they came closer, they found to be an infant of -about two months old, motionless like the mother. It seemed benumbed -with cold; and its mother, without making any movement, or uttering a -word, stood with her head bent over it, as if to warm it. One could -scarcely say whether they were dead or alive. The voice which had been -heard proceeded from the little girl, who, also motionless by her -mother's side, continued crying in a low tone. At this moment, the -moon rendered them distinctly visible. Madame de Vesac and Cecilia -approached quite close to the woman, but she did not change her -position. They looked at each other and trembled, for they feared that -both mother and infant were dead. At last, Madame de Vesac said to her, -"My good woman, what are you doing here?" She made no answer. - -The little girl, who, on perceiving them, began to cry and sob more -violently, pulled her by the skirt, exclaiming, "Mother! mother! some -ladies!" - -The poor woman raised her head, and pointed by her looks to her child, -whose face she again covered with her own; they had, however, time -enough to discern the face of the infant, which was pale and still as -death. Madame de Vesac wished to ascertain if it yet lived, but knew -not how to ask the question. At last she said in a low tone, at the -same time laying her hand gently upon him, "He is very cold." "I cannot -get him warm again," said the mother, in a still fainter tone, at the -same time pressing him more closely to her bosom, as if anxious to make -a new effort to impart her warmth to him. "Is he dead?" asked Comtois. -The only reply to these terrible words were cries of despair, as the -unfortunate creature pressed her infant more firmly to her heart. -Madame de Vesac found means of taking its hand: it was cold as ice; but -she felt its pulse, and perceiving it beat, she said with animation, -"No! most assuredly he is not dead; I feel his pulse beat." - -"Oh my God!" exclaimed the poor woman, with a stifled sigh, at the same -time raising towards Madame de Vesac eyes beaming with gratitude, and -already beginning to be suffused with tears. But she again immediately -turned them upon her child, whom she passionately kissed. - -"Let us take him," said Madame de Vesac; "we are better able to warm -him than you are." - -"Give him to me. I will put him under my great coat," said Comtois, -as he unfastened his thick, warm travelling coat. The poor woman -hesitated. "Give him to me," he continued. "I have children of my own. -I know how to manage them." - -"Let him take the child," said Madame de Vesac; and the unhappy mother -placed the infant in his arms, wrapping the coat round him. In order -to make room for him, Comtois removed a bottle from one of the inside -pockets. - -"Stop!" said he; "this won't hurt him." It was a bottle of brandy; he -opened it, and poured a few drops into the mouth of the child, who -swallowed it. - -"He swallows!" exclaimed the mother, in a transport of joy; and the -child began to breathe more freely, and to move its little arms. - -"I thought so!" said Comtois; "this would bring the dead to life. It -would do you no harm either, to take a little, my good woman." - -The poor creature replied that she did not want anything; but Madame -de Vesac persuaded her to take a little to warm her. Then the little -girl, who since the arrival of Madame de Vesac had ceased crying, -watching all that passed around her, again began to sob, in a low tone, -but sufficiently loud to make herself heard. Cecilia was the first to -observe her, and began to caress her, in order to quiet her, but the -child still continued crying, with her eyes directed to the bottle. -Cecilia asked if a little might not also be given to her, and Comtois -declared that it would do her no harm. "Yes," said Madame de Vesac, -"if she only takes a few drops; but if you give her the bottle, she -will drink too much." Meanwhile the child still cried and watched the -bottle, and her manner was so quiet and gentle, that the heart of -Cecilia was vividly touched. At last, by an effort of which she could -not have believed herself capable, Cecilia took off her glove, and told -the child that she should drink out of her hand; but when the little -girl had done so, she hid her hand again, observing that it was very -cold; but when the child rejected the brandy, saying it burned her -mouth, Cecilia observed to her that it was not worth while to have made -her take off her glove. She was on the point of putting it on again, -when the mother said that a bit of bread would have been much better -for her, as she had eaten nothing since noon. At this the child began -to cry more bitterly. - -"Oh, dear!" said Cecilia, "if I had but the bun I bought this morning, -and did not eat." - -"Where is it?" asked her mother. - -"In the carriage." - -"I thought I told you to put it in your bag." - -"Yes, but my bag...." She interrupted herself, and uttered a cry of -joy. She had not observed that her bag had remained attached to her -arm. She felt the strings, undid them, opened it, and found the bun. It -was a little crushed, indeed, by her fall, but the pieces were good. -She gave one of them to the mother, who, without saying a word, and -thinking herself unobserved, put it into her pocket. Cecilia again -felt in the bag, and taking off her other glove, asked whether, if she -crumbled a little of the soft part in her hand, they could not make the -infant take some of it. - -"What he wants," said Madame de Vesac, "is his mother's milk; but -even supposing she has any for him, he is not at present sufficiently -strong to take it; we must endeavour to reach some inhabited place as -speedily as possible, where we may be able to give him the attention he -requires." - -Then the poor woman, who, after a moment of intense joy, felt all her -fears and grief revive, said weeping, "If he only lives until we reach -Chambouri, I have my mother there, and she is very skilful in the care -of children." - -"Where is Chambouri?" inquired Madame de Vesac. - -"It is a short league from here," replied the poor woman. - -"It is the post town," added Comtois. "Do you know the way to it?" - -"Do I know the way to it?" said the woman. "I was born there." - -"Why did you not go there instead of remaining against that tree?" - -"I fell three times upon the ice; the third time my poor baby gave a -scream, and then was silent. At first I thought I had killed him; and -then I thought if I fell again, I should be sure to kill him; besides, -a moment after, finding he did not move, I believed him dead, and had -no heart for anything." - -"But now will you conduct us to Chambouri?" - -"Certainly, provided we can get there in time," and the poor woman -again began to weep. - -"Yes, yes, we shall arrive in time;" said Madame de Vesac; "Comtois -will carry the infant in one arm, and give the other to Cecilia. You -and I," she added, addressing the mother, "will try to keep each other -up." - -They proceeded in accordance with this arrangement, Cecilia giving her -hand to the little girl, and the poor mother walking by the side of -her baby, every moment putting her hand upon its head, which was not -covered by Comtois' coat, and redoubling her tears each time she felt -it cold. Madame de Vesac, perceiving this, stopped to untie a small -shawl, which she wore underneath her large one, and gave it to cover -the head of the infant. - -"It is indeed very cold," said Cecilia, who was beginning to think of -her own troubles, and who found that by giving her hand to the little -girl, she herself became very cold, from being unable to cover it with -her shawl. - -"How long have you been exposed to this cold?" inquired Madame de Vesac -of the poor woman. - -"We have not entered a house since noon," she replied. "I hoped to have -reached Chambouri early this evening, but the bad weather and the bad -roads have delayed us; and had it not been for you, my good lady, we -must have passed the night in the wood." - -"But would you have been able to endure the cold?" demanded Madame de -Vesac. - -"I don't know whether my poor little one would have survived it," -she replied, with increased emotion, and then began to enumerate his -perfections, as if she had already lost him. "He knew me," she said, -weeping; "even this very morning he looked at me and smiled; the -beautiful sunshine delighted him, and he raised his little arms, as if -he wanted to jump; and then, after the sun had gone down, when, for the -last time, I attempted to nurse him, he looked up at me, and tried to -smile." At these words her tears again flowed with redoubled force. - -"He will look at you; he will smile again," said Madame de Vesac. - -"Oh!" continued the unhappy mother, "he has suffered so much; he looked -at me, as if for help;" and in calling to mind the sad looks of her -child, she could not restrain her sobs. Then Cecilia again, forgetful -of her own troubles, withdrew her hand from Comtois' arm, and passing -it under that part of his coat which enveloped the child, said to the -mother, "Oh! he is very warm: feel him, he moves his little arms; I am -sure he is comfortable." "Yes, he does move his arms, I can tell you," -said Comtois; "see, he has pulled off the handkerchief which he had on -his head;" and Cecilia let go the hand of the little girl to re-arrange -the handkerchief. The poor mother knew not how to express her joy -and gratitude; but the little girl, who had remained a short distance -behind them, because Cecilia no longer held her hand, began to cry. -"Come along," then, said her mother; but the poor little thing replied, -"I cannot." - -Cecilia went to her, and again took her hand, saying, "You must try to -come along, my dear." - -"How long have you been on foot?" inquired Madame de Vesac. - -"Since noon," replied the poor woman. "I had no more money to pay -for lodgings; we had eaten all the provisions I had brought for the -journey, and I wanted to reach Chambouri." - -"And has the child been walking all that time?" - -"Yes, the whole time." - -"Cecilia is right, my dear," said Madame de Vesac, addressing the -little girl. "You must try to walk." - -"If Comtois were not carrying the baby," said Cecilia, "I would beg him -to take her up." - -"Oh! I have another arm," said Comtois; "but then I could not support -you, Miss Cecilia." - -"Never mind me," said Cecilia. "I am much better able to walk without -support, than this poor little thing is to continue the journey on -foot." - -Comtois then stooped down, and, seating the child upon his arm, raised -her from the ground, saying, "You must take hold of my collar with both -your hands;" to which the child replied, "I cannot." - -"Why not?" demanded Cecilia. But on taking her hands to show her how -she must hold the collar, she perceived that they were so cold that -the child could not use them. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, "she freezes -me even through my gloves." Then, remembering that she had two pairs -on, the outside ones lined with fur, she took them off, and after well -rubbing the child's hands, put them on her; but, finding her still -unable to hold the collar, she made her put her arms round Comtois' -neck. The child, however, still continued to cry. "What is the -matter," asked Cecilia; but she received no answer. "It is her poor -feet," said her mother. "Her chilblains are broken, and yet she has -walked barefoot the whole day; but now that she is no longer walking, -she feels the cold more." Cecilia recollected the socks which she -wore over her shoes; she took them off, and put them upon the feet of -the little girl, who ceased crying. Then, taking the arm of the poor -woman, Madame de Vesac having the other, she walked on courageously, -complaining neither of the cold nor of the ice, though she found much -more difficulty in maintaining her balance now that she was without her -socks. - -"My dear Cecilia," said Madame de Vesac, "how much strength we have -found since the moment we thought it impossible to go any further!" - -"Oh mamma!" exclaimed Cecilia, satisfied with herself, "an occasion -like this gives one a great deal of strength." - -"No, my child: such occasions merely show us all that we actually -possess; and since we do possess it, why not make use of it on all -occasions?" - -"But they are not all of such importance." - -"It is always important to succeed in what we undertake, and to do so -as speedily and as completely as possible; we ought therefore to make -every effort in our power to ensure success. When we are wanting in -resolution, and think we have not sufficient strength on a trifling -occasion, there is but one thing to be done, and that is to call up all -we should be sure to discover in a case of great emergency." - -As she concluded these words they reached the boundary of the wood, and -found themselves at the entrance of the village of Chambouri. - -"Here it is," exclaimed Cecilia, in a transport of joy. - -"Yes!" said the poor woman; "but my mother lives close to the -post-house, which is at the other end of the village." - -"Oh dear!" cried Cecilia, in a mournful tone. - -"Should we not be tempted," inquired Madame de Vesac, "to think it -impossible to go any further?" - -Cecilia, who was beginning to think so, recollected herself, examined -her powers, and inwardly shuddered at the idea of all that she still -felt able to endure. Trembling at the thought of being exposed to new -trials, she was only re-assured when, after a quarter of an hour's -further walking, she had entered the post-house, and was seated by the -kitchen fire. - -They had persuaded the poor woman to accompany them, to warm herself, -and attend to her children, whilst waiting till her mother should be -ready to receive them. The infant had fallen asleep in Comtois' arms, -and when taken from them, the noise, the people, and the lights awoke -him, and he began to cry. - -"He cries!" exclaimed the mother, in a transport of joy; and falling -on her knees with clasped hands, in front of Madame de Vesac, to whom -Comtois had given the child, she repeated, "He cries!" while gazing at -him intently, and kissing him. He ceased crying, and, pleased with the -warmth of the fire, looked at his mother and smiled. "That is just how -he looked at me this morning," she exclaimed, and burst into a flood of -tears. They made him take a little milk whilst waiting until his mother -was sufficiently rested to nurse him herself, and the pleasure which -he manifested in taking it was a fresh subject of joy for the poor -woman. Meanwhile Cecilia had taken possession of the little girl; she -placed her upon her knees, and warmed her feet and hands, without even -complaining that by so doing she was prevented from warming her own. At -length the mother of the poor woman, hearing of her daughter's arrival, -came for them and took them home, gratefully thanking Madame de Vesac, -who would not suffer them to depart until they had a comfortable -supper. She ordered her own supper in a private room, and sent for -a skilful surgeon, who happened fortunately to be at Chambouri, and -who set her arm. In the meantime Comtois had gone in search of the -carriage, which he found set to rights, and waiting for them. As he -returned with it, a traveller entered the inn, who proved to be Madame -de Vesac's man of business. He had come from her estate to meet her, -making inquiries for her at every stage on the way, in order to prevent -her going farther, as the affair for which she had been summoned was -arranged. Cecilia therefore retired to rest, with the satisfaction -of knowing that she should not have to continue her journey on the -following morning, as Madame de Vesac announced that since she had -time she should remain a couple of days at the inn, in order to attend -to her arm. The next day they sent for the poor woman, who was full -of joy at being able to exhibit her infant, now beginning to regain -both strength and colour; nor was she ever weary of looking at him and -kissing him. She stated that she had been married at a village some -distance from Chambouri, to a mechanic, who had turned out a worthless -fellow, and, after wasting all their means, had enlisted a short time -before the birth of her infant; and that as soon as she was able to -travel, she had set out in order to return to her mother, who had a -little property, and with whom she intended to live. Madame de Vesac -told her that she should consider herself as godmother to the child, -whose life she had been instrumental in saving, and that she took him -under her protection. But as he must still remain with his mother, who -indeed would not have consented to part with him, she contented herself -with giving her some money to assist in their maintenance, and she also -permitted Cecilia to beg that the little girl, whose name was Nanette, -might be committed to her care. - -This proposition was gratefully accepted, and after a few days given -to repose, Madame de Vesac set out on her return to Paris, with Cecilia -and Nanette. From that moment Cecilia looked upon the child as her own, -and so greatly was she delighted with her new possession, that she -could speak of nothing else. Already had she disposed of all her old -dresses in favour of Nanette. Already had she measured her in every -direction, to ascertain whether in a dress stained with ink, and which -she was delighted to part with, there would he sufficient to make -a dress for Nanette, without employing the piece that was stained. -Already had she thought, that by taking from her old black apron the -part she had burned at the stove, there would be enough remaining to -make an apron for Nanette. Already had she made her take off her cap -of quilted cotton, to measure with a string the size of her head, in -order to calculate how much cambric and muslin would be wanted to make -her some neat little caps, while waiting until the return of the warm -weather should enable her to go bare-headed, a habit which Cecilia -intended she should acquire, it being so much more healthy for a -little girl. Several times already had she said to her, "Nanette, hold -yourself up;" but the child, who did not know what was meant by holding -herself up, having never heard such an expression, only bent her head a -little lower, as she always did when embarrassed. Then Cecilia raised -it for her, with a quiet gentleness of manner, mentally repeating, as -she did so, that patience is the first duty of one who wishes to bring -up a child. Madame de Vesac smiled at her gravity; but counselled her, -however, to relax it a little, if she wished to gain the confidence of -her pupil. - -Cecilia had formed the most extensive projects for the education of her -protegée. "First of all," she said, "I will teach her to work well; -this is absolutely necessary for a girl. I mean her to learn history -and geography; perhaps even, if she has talent for them, I may teach -her the piano and drawing. I am not sufficiently advanced myself to -carry her very far, but I shall be improving every day, and then, when -I am married and rich, I will give her masters, for I intend her to be -very accomplished:" and Cecilia became more and more excited as she -advanced with her projects and her hopes. Her mother listened to her, -and smiled. Cecilia, perceiving this, was a little annoyed, and asked -whether she were not right in wishing to give Nanette a good education. - -"Certainly," replied Madame de Vesac; "that is why I advise you to -commence by teaching her to read." - -"That is a matter of course; but perhaps she can read already. Nanette, -can you read?" - -The child looked at her, then bent her head without answering. Cecilia -raised her chin with her finger, again repeating, "Can you read?" -But Nanette's only answer was to bend a little lower than before, as -soon as Cecilia had withdrawn her finger. Cecilia, with a look at -her mother, which seemed to say, "What patience one must have with -children!" drew from her bag a book, which she had brought to read on -her journey, and opening it at the title-page, she placed it before -Nanette, and pointing to an A, said, "What is that?" Nanette raised her -eyes, glanced askance at the A, and then cast them down again, without -saying a word. Cecilia repeated, "What is that?" But Nanette continued -silent. "It is an A," said Cecilia, lowering her voice, like one -becoming impatient, and anxious to restrain herself. The child looked -at her earnestly, as if she would have said, "What does it matter to me -if it is an A?" "It is an A," repeated Cecilia; but Nanette only looked -at her without answering. Cecilia was beginning to lose patience, but -she called to mind the self-control her new duties required from her, -and, taking Nanette upon her knees, she began to caress her, saying as -she did so, "Why will you not say A?" Nanette did not stir. "Say A," -continued Cecilia, "and I will give you this plum." Nanette looked -first at the plum and then at Cecilia, and smiled. Cecilia smiled -too, and repeated, "Say A." Nanette, still smiling, and with her head -bent down, glanced slyly at the plum, and said A in a very low tone. -Cecilia kissed her with delight. When the plum was eaten, she pointed -to another A, but without being able to elicit any opinion on the -matter from Nanette. "Say A," she repeated, in an affectionate manner, -and Nanette looked round to see if there was another plum coming. -However, whether in gratitude for the one she had already eaten, or -from the hope of obtaining another, or from politeness to Cecilia, she -once more consented to say A. This was a new joy for Cecilia, who, -persuaded that Nanette was now quite perfect in the A, and enchanted -at this first triumph in her education, returned with delight to the -former A, expecting her to recognize it immediately; but this time it -was impossible to obtain a syllable from her. Nanette had never seen a -book--did not know what it was, nor what could be its use. She could -not understand this fancy of making her say A. She had said it without -regarding the form of the letter, and without thinking it was the name -of the thing shown to her; and had all the A's in the world been placed -before her, she would not have been any the wiser. After many useless -efforts, Cecilia, completely discouraged, looked at her mother, with an -expression of annoyance, saying, "What shall we do if she will not even -learn to read?" - -Madame de Vesac represented to her that she was beginning to despair -very quickly, that it was quite natural that Nanette, astonished at the -novelty of her situation, stunned by the carriage, and timid at finding -herself among strangers, should have a difficulty in understanding what -was shown her, and that it would be better to wait for a quieter time -before commencing her instructions. - -Cecilia was a little consoled by these words, and glad, moreover, to -have a sufficient reason for deferring lessons of which, for the -moment, she was heartily tired. However, considering, in the meantime, -that she must endeavour to correct Nanette of whatever faults she might -have, she determined that on the following morning, when they would he -obliged to start at five o'clock, she would not allow her to complain -of being so early awakened, or of the cold; but she had no occasion to -enforce her lessons. Nanette, accustomed to suffering, never murmured -nor complained of anything; and Cecilia was at a loss to know what to -do with a child so gentle and docile as not to need scolding, and so -little intelligent that it was difficult to tell what method to adopt -for her instruction. However, the desire she felt of setting Nanette an -example, and the good opinion she began to entertain of her own sense, -now that she found herself intrusted with the education of another, -prevented her from even thinking of complaining of the cold, or of -the annoyance of being disturbed at five o'clock in the morning. She -busied herself in arranging her things, in order to show Nanette how -to manage; and Nanette, who would rather have packed and unpacked a -dozen parcels than have said A once, endeavoured to obey her, and did -not acquit herself badly. Cecilia testified her satisfaction, and they -resumed their journey, mutually pleased, and, in order to maintain -this good understanding, nothing more was said about the A until their -arrival in Paris. - -We may easily imagine how often, after her return home, Cecilia related -the history of Nanette and the forest, and mentioned her intention of -bringing up this little girl. The interest inspired by her narrative, -and the importance she seemed to herself to acquire, whenever -Nanette was asked for, revived those projects of education which the -ill-success of her first attempts had somewhat cooled. Besides, she -had felt so much pleasure in commencing Nanette's wardrobe, in trying -on a dress which she had made for her in two days, and thought it -so delightful to have some one to command and send about her little -commissions in the house, that she became daily more attached to -this species of property. She wished to have Nanette sleep in her -room, that she might be completely under her protection, but this -Madame de Vesac would not permit, as she felt it would give rise to a -thousand inconveniences, which Cecilia, in her eagerness for present -gratification, could not foresee. It was therefore arranged that she -should sleep with Madame de Vesac's maid, and go down to Cecilia's room -every morning to receive the lessons of her young instructress. Cecilia -at first declared that this was not enough, and that if more time was -not allowed, it would be impossible for her to teach Nanette all she -wished her to learn. Her mother, however, advised her to be content -with this as a beginning, promising that, if in a little while, she -still wished it, the time should be increased. The day Cecilia tried -on Nanette's dress and bonnet, which seemed to delight the child very -much, and while still exhibiting the apron she had cut out, she took -advantage of the opportunity to tell her that if she wished to gain all -these pretty things she must learn to read. Nanette did not very well -know what was meant by learning to read, but she had seen Cecilia look -into books, and remembered that it was in a book she was made to say A. -This recollection was by no means agreeable, but as she was becoming -accustomed to obey Cecilia, she consented for once to repeat after her, -first A, then B, then C; and at last, all the letters of the alphabet. -Cecilia made her repeat them two or three times, showing them to her in -the different styles; and greatly pleased at having so easily obtained -Nanette's submission, which she had so much difficulty in doing at the -commencement, she flattered herself that the most important point was -gained, and that her education would now rapidly advance. The same day -she put her fingers on the piano, and Nanette was at first delighted -with the sounds she produced by striking the keys, but she did not find -it quite so amusing to go through the gamut, and repeat after Cecilia a -dozen times, _ut_, _re_, _mi_, _fa_, _sol_, _la_, _si_, _ut_. However, -she obeyed, and all went on to the satisfaction of the teacher. Cecilia -next gave her a thimble, some needles, and a pair of scissors, which -she had bought for her, together with a piece of linen, which she was -to learn to hem. Nanette was farther advanced in this department than -in the others. She had seen her mother work, and had tried to imitate -her. Cecilia was very well pleased with the manner in which she held -her needle, and fixed her hem; and praised her accordingly; and, thus -encouraged, the hem was finished pretty quickly and tolerably well. -At length, after two hours spent in this manner, hours which appeared -to the mistress somewhat tedious, Nanette was dismissed, and Cecilia, -while congratulating herself on the success of her efforts, found, -nevertheless, that the task of education was not the easiest of work. - -The next day she resumed her lessons with renewed courage, hoping to -advance still farther than on the preceding one, but she found that -everything had to be begun again. Nanette was as much puzzled to say -A as she had been the first time. She did not recognize one of the -letters, which she had repeated mechanically after Cecilia, who, as -she now made her say them again one after the other, had the utmost -difficulty in getting her to give two or three times by herself the -name of the letter which had been taught her the moment before. At the -piano, when Cecilia wanted her to begin the scale of _ut_, she put her -finger upon _sol_, and when asked the name of the note she had struck, -it was impossible for her to find any name for it: she did not even -understand that the notes had names. Thus, all the success obtained -that day was, that after half-an-hour's study, Nanette named at random -a _fa_ for a _la_, or a _si_ for a _re_. Cecilia became very angry, -and Nanette, who could not bear to be scolded, made so much haste to -finish her hem, in order to escape from her, that when Cecilia examined -it, she found six stitches one over the other, and another half-an-inch -long. - -The following days were not much more fortunate; for, on each occasion, -Nanette had forgotten pretty nearly the whole of what little she had -seemed to know on the previous day. As up to that time, she had never -been taught anything, she was not accustomed to apply her mind, or fix -her attention on things of which she did not understand the use, for -it could not be said that she was deficient in sense, or abilities, -for her age. She was by no means awkward, and did all she was capable -of doing carefully enough; for instance, if she carried a light, she -did not, like most children of her age, hold it in such a manner as to -let the grease fall upon the ground; she even took care to snuff it -for fear of sparks, before removing it from one place to another, and -she managed to snuff it without putting it out; if she had to carry -anything rather heavy from one room to another, she first opened the -door and removed whatever might be in her way; or if, while holding a -jug of water, she happened to catch her dress in any object, she did -not, like most children, give a sudden jerk, and spill the water, but -quietly put down her jug, and removed the obstacle. It was evident that -she was accustomed to act, and seek the means of acting in the most -useful manner. Moreover, she rendered a thousand little services to -Mademoiselle Gerard, Madame de Vesac's lady's maid, who was extremely -fond of her, and who, from having her continually with her, contrived, -without tormenting her, to teach her many things which Nanette -willingly learnt. - -As to the lessons with Cecilia, they went on worse and worse every day: -the pupil knew not how to learn, nor the mistress how to teach; Cecilia -often lost patience, and Nanette, who saw her only to be scolded and -wearied, feeling but little desire to please her, became at last -careless; besides, after having studied for a few minutes a lesson in -which she took no interest, her ideas became so completely confused by -the irksomeness of her task, that she did not know what she was doing; -so that, after having said her letters, and spelt very well with the -lady's maid, who endeavoured to teach her, in order that she might not -be scolded, when she came to Cecilia everything went wrong, and it was -but an additional annoyance to the latter to find that it was only with -Mademoiselle Gerard that Nanette read well. - -Thanks, however, to Mademoiselle Gerard, Nanette did make some progress -in reading and needlework; but as for music, at the end of six weeks -she was no farther advanced than on the first day, and Cecilia, who -entertained the idea of giving her an education which would enable -her to shine in the world, became disgusted with efforts which could -have no higher result than that of fitting her to become a shopkeeper -or a lady's maid. The lessons, therefore, were but a succession of -irritabilities, which prevented Cecilia from seeking the best means -of making herself understood, and which ended by worrying Nanette. -These two hours, so uselessly employed, became equally disagreeable to -mistress and pupil, and both were delighted when any accident occurred -to shorten them; and shortened they often were; for Cecilia, being on -one occasion busy, hurried over all the lessons in half-an-hour, and -this, having once occurred, occurred often. Sometimes, too, she made -Nanette repeat her lesson without listening to her, or put her before -the piano and told her to play, while she went about her own affairs, -so that during this time, Nanette amused herself at her leisure, in -playing whatever happened to suit her fancy. Sometimes, in fine, when -Cecilia was busy with her drawing or anything that amused her, she -would tell Nanette to take her books or her work, and then think no -more about her. Nanette, meanwhile, would either be looking out at the -window or catching flies; and when at last, after half-an-hour had -elapsed, Cecilia observed her, she would scold her for her idleness, -and send her away, saying that she had now no time to attend to her -lessons. - -All this took place in Cecilia's room, which was close to her mother's. -For some time Madame de Vesac said nothing; she had never expected -that Cecilia would carry out her projects of education with any -perseverance, and she relied much more upon Mademoiselle Gerard, who -was a respectable and sensible person, and whom she knew to be quite -capable of bringing up Nanette in a manner suited to her station. -Still she did not wish her daughter to get into the habit of doing -carelessly what she undertook, nor to fancy that the duties of the day -were performed when they were only gone through in appearance. Cecilia -herself felt that things were not as they ought to be; so that, after -having several times complained to her mother of the trouble which -Nanette gave, she ceased to speak of the matter. At length one day, -Madame de Vesac, after listening for half-an-hour to Nanette, who was -strumming on the piano according to her own fancy, without receiving -any attention from Cecilia, she asked the latter, if it was by giving -lessons in that style that she hoped to make Nanette a great musician. -Cecilia blushed, for she felt she was wrong; but she assured her -mother, that Nanette had not the slightest taste for music. Madame de -Vesac observed, that, from the way in which she had been taught, it was -impossible to know whether this was the case or not. - -"Mamma," said Cecilia, "I assure you she has no talent whatever; and it -is this which has discouraged me." - -"But I do not think she displays less inclination to learn to read and -work than other children of her age; and yet I do not see that you are -at all more zealous in these branches of her education." - -"Oh, I attended especially to her music. Mademoiselle Gerard can teach -her the rest, as well as I can." - -"So then, you have taken Nanette in order to have her brought up by -Mademoiselle Gerard?" - -"No, mamma; but I thought Nanette would be able to learn what I wanted -to teach her." - -"And because she does not learn what you want to teach her, you do not -think it worth while to teach her what she can learn: to do for her, at -least, all that is in your power." - -"But still, mamma, it is, I think, a lucky thing for Nanette that we -have taken her, and I certainly shall always take care of her; but you -must allow that there is no very great pleasure in teaching a little -girl to read and sew, when it is evident that she can learn nothing -more than that." - -"To agree with you, I must first know precisely what kind of pleasure -you expected when you took charge of Nanette?" - -"The pleasure of being useful to her, by giving her a good education." - -"And supposing her incapable of profiting by what you call a good -education, you would not care to be useful to her by giving her at -least such an education as she is capable of receiving." - -"At all events, this would not give me so much pleasure." - -"And to continue a good action which you have commenced, it is -necessary that you should find it productive of much pleasure to -yourself?" - -"No, mamma; but...." - ---"But, my child, there are many persons like you in that respect; they -commence a good work with delight, and afterwards abandon it because -their success is not as complete as they had expected." - -"You must see, mamma," said Cecilia, a little piqued, "that it was not -for my own advantage that I wished to give lessons to Nanette." - -"I believe, indeed, it was for hers, and that you had fully reflected -on the advantage she would derive from them." - -"Indeed, mamma, it is a very fine thing for a little peasant girl, who -would have remained ignorant, vulgar, and illiterate all her life, to -be well educated and accomplished, and to be able to become amiable and -agreeable, and fitted to move in elevated society." - -"Especially," said Madame de Vesac, smiling, "when she is destined to -move in elevated society." - -"Who knows, mamma? a good marriage," resumed Cecilia, with vivacity; -for her imagination was always ready to rush into romantic ideas, -because it is such ideas that require the least reflection. - -"Have you seen many of these marriages?" asked her mother. - -"Though I may never have seen any, still..." - -"Still you suppose, probably, that they are not unfrequent." - -"I do not say that, but..." - -"But I say," continued her mother, seriously, "that we are not -permitted to amuse ourselves with such child's play, when the welfare -of one of whom we have taken charge is at stake; and if you had -bestowed upon Nanette an education which would make her disdain the -humble career to which she is no doubt destined, you would have -rendered her a very mischievous service." - -"So then, mamma, you did not think I ought to give lessons to Nanette?" - -"Not at all; but I was quite easy about the matter." - -"Besides," said Cecilia, blushing, "here I am always interrupted, and -then two hours for all the lessons are nothing; but we shall be going -into the country in a month, where, if you will allow it, she will be -more frequently with me, and I shall easily find the means of giving -her a proper education." - -"Very well," said Madame de Vesac, smiling; for she did not place much -more reliance on her daughter's perseverance in the country than in -Paris. Cecilia did not observe this smile; quite absorbed in her plans -for the future education of Nanette, she began by interrupting it for -the present, as if the good that was to be done at some distant day -exempted her from performing that which was in her power at the actual -moment. She therefore told Nanette, that she would give her no more -lessons until they went into the country; and Nanette, to whom a month -seemed a lifetime, imagined herself for ever freed, both from Cecilia -and her lessons. Cecilia, whose month was taken up with two or three -balls, with purchases, packing, and receiving visits from the friends -who called to bid her good-bye, completely lost the habit of thinking -of Nanette; and this habit she found so unpleasant to resume, that they -had been a whole week in the country when her mother said to her:-- - -"And Nanette?" - -"We are going to recommence our lessons," she replied, somewhat ashamed -at not having done so earlier. "But you know," she added, "that on -arriving in the country there are a thousand things to be done; -besides, I do not think Nanette is very anxious." - -"Nor you either, I suspect." - -"It certainly does not amuse me much." - -"But it will not amuse you more to-morrow than to-day; so that I do not -see you have any more reason to begin to-morrow than you have had for -the last week." - -"But still you know, mamma, there is no need of being in a hurry when -there is plenty of time." - -"My child, we have never sufficient time before us to do all that ought -to be done, for we can never be sure of time. A thousand accidents may -deprive us of it; therefore we ought always to be anxious to do what -has to be done, just as if we had only the time absolutely necessary -for it. In this uncertainty as to the future, it was as necessary to -have devoted to Nanette's education the week you have lost, as to give -to it that which is to come." - -Cecilia made no answer, but resumed her drawing. Madame de Vesac took -up the book she had been reading. After the lapse of half-an-hour, -Cecilia interrupted her occupation, saying, with a heavy sigh, "I am -afraid I shall not succeed." - -"In what?" inquired her mother. - -"In what we were speaking of a short time since," said Cecilia, wishing -to be understood without being forced to explain; "in Nanette's -education." - -"And why should you not succeed, if you desire it?" replied Madame de -Vesac, still reading. - -"I cannot manage to make her study properly." - -"I do not see why you may not do what another can do;" and the -conversation was again dropped, much to Cecilia's annoyance, for she -had an idea which she was anxious though afraid to express. At length, -after a quarter of an hour's silence, she again continued. "There is -one very simple plan," she said. - -"What for?" asked Madame de Vesac, without laying down her book. - -"To educate Nanette," said Cecilia, impatiently. - -"That plan would be, I think, to give her lessons." - -"Mamma, I assure you it is very difficult, extremely difficult. If -you would permit me to send her to the village school she would learn -to read, and they could give her the elementary lessons in writing, -which you know I cannot do; and when we return to Paris she will be -sufficiently advanced for me to continue with her." - -"Cecilia," said Madame de Vesac, "if you alone were concerned, I should -not consent to this, for you must acquire the habit of persevering in -what you undertake, and learn to bear the consequences of your own -determinations. But Nanette would suffer from it; because, as you are -neither sufficiently reasonable nor sufficiently patient to adopt the -proper means of ensuring success, you would scold her for learning -badly what you taught her badly, and thus she would be ill brought up -and unhappy. You may therefore send her to school." - -Cecilia, delighted at having obtained this permission, hastened to -Mademoiselle Gerard, to beg her to inform the schoolmaster, and -arrange with him the terms of Nanette's tuition. Mademoiselle Gerard, -annoyed at being deprived of Nanette during so many hours in the -morning, and foreseeing that this arrangement would displease her -little pupil, declared that it was unnecessary, and wished to point -out inconveniences in the plan. But Cecilia became angry at the first -word (as always happens when we are not sure of being in the right), -and said that it was Madame de Vesac's wish. The matter was therefore -settled, and Nanette sent to school. For some time, Cecilia took an -interest in her progress, and paid for her instruction cheerfully -enough; and on her birthday, when Nanette recited some complimentary -verses, composed by the schoolmaster, and in which she was styled -her _illustrious benefactress_, Cecilia gave her a new dress, which -Mademoiselle Gerard promised to make. But in course of time Cecilia -had other fancies; and when the first of the month came round, she -was annoyed at having to pay for Nanette's schooling. Mademoiselle -Gerard had several times to remind her that Nanette required shoes; -that she had worn and outgrown those she had; and that the small -quantity of linen, and the caps and petticoats which had been made -for her at first, were insufficient. Madame de Vesac had more than -once contributed to her wardrobe; and Cecilia was one day a little -ashamed at seeing the child in an apron made out of an old dress of -Mademoiselle Gerard's. But in time she got reconciled to this, and -began to see in Nanette only the _protégée_ of the lady's maid. She -never thought of her but when they happened to meet; and they became -almost strangers to each other. - -When they were about to return to Paris, Mademoiselle Gerard, whose -health had been much impaired for some time past, was not in a -condition to undertake the journey: so that Madame de Vesac resolved -to leave her in the country until she got well. Mademoiselle Gerard -had become so much accustomed to Nanette, that she could not bear the -thought of parting with her; she therefore asked permission to retain -her. Cecilia, as may be imagined, seconded the request; and Madame de -Vesac, being then without a maid, and seeing that Nanette would only -be an additional inconvenience, thought it as well to leave her with -Mademoiselle Gerard, to whom she would be useful. - -Thus was Cecilia, for the moment, relieved from all care of Nanette, -and fully determined to think of her as little as possible, for the -recollection was troublesome, as she could not but feel that she had -not done for her all that she might have done. However, every month -brought Mademoiselle Gerard's bill for Nanette's schooling, and other -necessary expenses incurred on her account. Then came demands for -shoes, linen, &c.; and although Mademoiselle Gerard was in this respect -extremely economical, and not unfrequently assisted Nanette from her -own wardrobe, still Cecilia found these expenses encroach sadly upon -her allowance. Madame de Vesac, unknown to her, willingly undertook -a part of them; but she would not undertake the whole, not thinking -it right that her daughter should feel herself at liberty to transfer -to her a duty which she had voluntarily imposed upon herself; and she -insisted that Cecilia should not neglect the demands of Mademoiselle -Gerard. But it happened that Madame de Vesac's husband was wounded -while with the army, and though the wound was not dangerous, it was -still of sufficient importance to prevent his being removed. His wife -was therefore obliged to set off immediately to attend to him; and not -wishing to take her daughter with her, she left her in the care of -one of her aunts, who had two girls of her own, with whom Cecilia was -delighted to have an opportunity of spending some time. - -She had been with them about three days, when she received a letter -from Mademoiselle Gerard. This letter could not have come at a more -unwelcome moment, Cecilia having just taken a fancy to purchase a -bonnet like one bought by her cousin, and imagining that Mademoiselle -Gerard applied to her for money, "Oh!" she said, ill-temperedly, the -moment she recognized the post-mark and handwriting, "I was quite sure -this would not fail me; Mademoiselle Gerard always takes care to write -whenever I want to buy anything for my own pleasure," and she threw -the letter, unopened, upon the mantel-piece, and resumed her drawing, -saying, "I shall read it quite soon enough." - -"You had better spare yourself the trouble altogether," said the -youngest of her cousins, who was very thoughtless, and, saying this, -she took the letter, and threw it into the fire. Cecilia uttered a -cry, and hastily rose to regain it, but before she had time to move -her table, reach the fire-place, and seize the tongs, in spite of -her cousin, who, laughing with all her might, endeavoured to prevent -her, the letter was half destroyed. When, after having got it out, -she wished to take hold of it, the flame burned her fingers, so that -she let it fall, and, while vainly endeavouring to extinguish it with -the tongs, her cousin, still laughing, took a large glass of water, -and threw it over it. The letter ceased to burn, but the little that -remained of it, was so blackened and impregnated with the water, that -it was quite illegible, and Cecilia was, therefore, obliged to give up -all thoughts of reading it. She scolded her cousin, telling her that -she should now be obliged to write to Mademoiselle Gerard to know the -contents of her letter, but, meanwhile, she bought the bonnet, and -as, after having done so, she found herself without money, she was in -no great hurry to know what Mademoiselle Gerard had written about; -she, therefore, deferred writing from day to day, until a week or ten -days had passed; then a fortnight elapsed, and the letter was still -forgotten--finally, it remained unwritten at the end of three weeks. -She little knew what was going on at the Château during this time. - -Since their departure, the health of Mademoiselle Gerard had been -constantly growing worse, she consequently became more fretful with -every one except Nanette, of whom she was very fond, and who served her -with zeal and intelligence. The only person who remained in the Château -with her was the porter, an old servant named Dubois, a cross-grained, -crabbed old man, though well enough disposed in the main. Mademoiselle -Gerard, like the other servants, had frequently disputes with him, but -as she was a sensible woman, these disputes were soon settled; now, -however, that her temper became soured by illness, their disagreements -increased in frequency and violence. It was part of Dubois' duty to -supply her with everything she wanted, and when marketing for himself -to buy what she required also. She was often discontented with his -purchases, and, besides, if she asked for anything in the least out -of the ordinary course, he told her it was too dear, and that Madame -de Vesac would not permit such extravagance. Then Mademoiselle Gerard -would cry, and bewail her misfortune in being left to the care of -a man who would be the death of her. She had several times written -to Madame de Vesac on the subject, who, well knowing her wishes to -be unreasonable, endeavoured to calm her, and persuade her to wait -patiently until her return; at the same time, she ordered Dubois not -to vex her, as she was an invalid. Whenever the latter received these -commands he became more ill-tempered than usual, because, he said, -Mademoiselle Gerard had got him scolded by his mistress. At length -their disagreements reached such a point, that Dubois would no longer -enter the apartments of Mademoiselle Gerard, who, on her part, declared -that, during the whole course of her life, she would never again speak -to Dubois; so that she sent Nanette to get from him what she wanted. -Poor little Nanette was often very much perplexed, as Mademoiselle -Gerard, always dissatisfied with what Dubois sent her, never failed to -break out into complaints whenever Nanette carried her the meat he had -bought at the market, or the fruit and vegetables he had gathered in -the garden. She declared he had chosen the very worst for her, and that -he wanted to kill her; and such was her weakness on these occasions, -that she would sometimes begin to cry. Nanette, who was very fond of -her, was grieved at seeing her so much distressed, and would stand -looking at her in perfect silence; then Mademoiselle Gerard would kiss -her, and say, "If I were to die, who would take care of you?" for, in -her weakness, she imagined there was no one in the world who would take -an interest in Nanette but herself. The child returned her caresses, -comforting her in her way, and assuring her that she would not die. She -could not understand her friend's distress, but she would have done -much to see her happy. But when Mademoiselle Gerard wanted to send her -to Dubois to complain of what he had given her, she told her she dared -not go, because on two or three occasions he had been so enraged with -her that she was terribly frightened of him. Then she would repeat -for the twentieth time what he had said the day she took back to him -the decayed pears, and how, when she went to tell him that the slices -of beet-root were bad, he flew into a furious passion, saying that -servants were more difficult to please than their masters, then gave -such a kick to his cupboard door, for the purpose of shutting it, and -flung a carrot which he held in his hand with such violence across the -room, that she ran away terrified, for fear of being beaten. She also -repeated all that he had said about Mademoiselle Gerard herself, that -he should never have a moment's peace so long as she was in the house, -and that he would willingly give five pounds out of his own pocket, -if she were only so far out of his way that he might never hear her -name mentioned again. Then Mademoiselle Gerard became alarmed at his -hatred, and could not endure the thought of remaining alone with him -in the Château, saying that unless her mistress returned very soon she -should be lost. If on these occasions Dubois happened to pass near -her apartment, she ran to bolt and barricade the door, as if he were -going to murder her. It was in moments of fever that these ideas took -possession of her mind, and more especially in the evening, because -the room occupied by Dubois was close to her own. The mere idea of -having to pass the night so near him threw her into a frightful state -of agitation. Nanette, without knowing why, shared in her alarm, and as -soon as it began to get dusk she would run and bolt the doors. During -the day they were more calm, and Nanette even amused herself by playing -tricks upon Dubois. - -He kept his fruit and other provisions in a room on the ground floor, -one window of which looked upon the court-yard of the Château, and -another into the poultry-yard. When the weather was fine, he used -each morning to open the window that commanded the court-yard, go his -rounds of the kitchen-garden and poultry-yard, and then return and -close the window. Nanette had several times watched for the moment of -his departure, and, taking advantage of his absence, had climbed to -the window, entered the room, carried back the apples he had sent to -Mademoiselle Gerard, and with which she was dissatisfied, and taken -finer ones in their stead. She was careful whilst in the room to watch -for Dubois through the window that looked into the poultry-yard, and -the moment she caught a glimpse of him she made her escape. The first -time this occurred, Mademoiselle Gerard gently reprimanded her for -having gone through the window; but since her illness she had become -too weak to be reasonable in anything, so that a few days later, being -greatly annoyed at again receiving some apples which she declared were -bad, she said to Nanette, "Could you not manage to get others for me?" -Nanette desired nothing better, for she had been much amused with her -first stratagem; she, therefore, again watched for Dubois' departure, -clambered through the window, and accomplished her task with perfect -success, and then diverted Mademoiselle Gerard, to whom her tricks had -become a source of amusement, by mimicking the limping gait and surly -expression of Dubois, as she had seen him returning in the distance. -Nanette, who never took anything for herself, and even for her friend -only made exchanges, did not feel the slightest scruple in respect -to the propriety of her conduct; while to Mademoiselle Gerard, whose -mind had become too far enfeebled to be capable of much reflection, it -never occurred that she was encouraging the child in a bad habit, and -exposing her to suspicion. - -One day, when she had sent to Dubois for some dried grapes, she -pretended, as usual, that he had chosen the worst for her, and, as -children always see what they fancy they see, Nanette assured her that -she had really observed him select the worst, and offered her good -friend (as she always named Mademoiselle Gerard) to go and bring some -better ones, from the cupboard in which she knew he always kept them -locked up. Her friend consented, and Nanette having seen Dubois open -the window and depart, started on her expedition. She got into the -room, found the key of the cupboard, and began to make her selection. -She was so busy that it did not occur to her that the door of the -press concealed from her the window which looked upon the poultry-yard, -and consequently, that she could not peep out as usual to see if -Dubois were coming. Two or three times, indeed, she did interrupt -her occupation, to go and look out, but not at the right moment, so -that Dubois passed unperceived, and just when she considered herself -perfectly safe, she heard a voice of thunder exclaiming, "Oh! you -little thief; I have caught you, then!" and saw before the window the -terrible Dubois, barring her passage. For the moment, she thought -herself dead; but, fortunately, Dubois was too fat and too heavy to -be able to get through the window: he could only overwhelm her with -reproaches. Pale and trembling, her heart sinking with fright, she -stood silent and motionless. But, at length, watching the moment when -he went round to the door, she leaped through the window, and ran -round the yard, pursued by Dubois, who, with vehement exclamations, -endeavoured to reach her with his stick. Mademoiselle Gerard, hearing -the noise, opened her window, and seeing the danger of her favourite, -she lost all self-control, and screamed out, "Help! Help! Murder!" -Dubois, furious, raised his eyes, and not knowing much better than -herself what he was about, threatened her with his stick, and then -recommenced his pursuit of Nanette, who by this time had gained the -staircase. He mounted after her, and arrived at the moment when she -and Mademoiselle Gerard were trying to shut the door; he pushed it -open, and forced an entrance, almost upsetting Mademoiselle Gerard, who -threw herself before Nanette, as if to prevent his touching her. Still -more enraged by this movement, which seemed to imply that he intended -to hurt the child, and worse in words than in deeds, he stopped, -suffocated at once by anger and by his chase: then, recovering breath, -he poured forth a volley of invectives, both against Nanette, whom -he called a jade, and against Mademoiselle Gerard, whom he accused -of encouraging her in stealing, and becoming a spy about the house. -Mademoiselle Gerard, trembling at once with fear and indignation, told -him that Nanette did not steal, that she only endeavoured to obtain -something better than he had sent to _poison her_; that she was very -unfortunate in being abandoned to a _monster_ like him, but that her -mistress would soon be back, and do her justice for all this. - -"O yes!" said Dubois, "count upon Madame's return, but before she comes -back you will have time to set out for the other world!" - -After this piece of brutality, which satisfied his passion, he left -them. Mademoiselle Gerard fell down almost insensible; and the surgeon -who attended her found her, on his arrival, in a high state of fever. -He had, besides, just been informed of M. de Vesac's wound, and of -the departure of his wife, and communicated this intelligence to -Mademoiselle Gerard, who now perceived the import of Dubois' words; -and the idea of having to remain perhaps for six months longer at the -mercy of such a man, filled her mind with a terror and agitation which -it was impossible to subdue. As her imagination was now disordered -by fever, she said that Dubois would kill Nanette; and when the -latter declared that she could never dare ask him for anything again, -Mademoiselle Gerard expected nothing less than to be starved to death. -She determined therefore to go to her brother, who was married and -established as a shopkeeper in a neighbouring town. It was in vain -that the surgeon endeavoured to oppose this caprice, by representing -to her that she was too ill to be removed without danger. Her fever -and agitation increased so much by contradiction, that he found it -necessary to yield to her desire. He therefore sent to the farm for a -horse and cart, settled her with as little inconvenience as possible, -and thus accompanied by Nanette, and taking with her all her effects, -she started for the town, where she arrived almost in a dying state. - -She remained several days in this condition; then became a little -better, but was still so feeble that she began to give up all hope of -recovery. Wishing to dispose of the little property she possessed, she -sent for a notary. Her whole wealth consisted in a sum of a thousand -crowns, the fruit of her savings, and which, from her suspicious -character, she had been afraid of placing out at interest, for fear of -being cheated, and therefore always kept in her own possession. She -left two thousand four hundred francs to her brother, and six hundred -to Nanette, with part of her effects. Then, on learning from the -surgeon his belief that Cecilia had remained in Paris, she wrote to -inform her of the condition she was in, begging her to make it known -to Madame de Vesac, and to ask what, in the event of her death, was to -be done with Nanette. This was the letter which Cecilia's cousin threw -into the fire. Mademoiselle Gerard receiving no reply, supposed that -Cecilia had left Paris; and feeling herself growing daily worse, she -got the clergyman who visited her to write a long letter to Madame de -Vesac. In this letter she recommended Nanette to her care, and without -complaining of Dubois, whom the clergyman had prevailed upon her to -forgive, she explained to her mistress that Nanette was not a thief, as -Dubois had accused her of being. - -Soon after this letter had been despatched she died; and thus was poor -Nanette left utterly friendless. Mademoiselle Gerard's brother and -his wife were selfish people; they had been annoyed at the affection -she manifested for Nanette, because they were afraid she would leave -her whatever she possessed. They supposed she must have amassed a -considerable sum of money, and were confirmed in this opinion, when -the day after her death they discovered in her apartment the thousand -crowns. Knowing that she had made a will, the husband hastened to -the notary, eager to learn its contents; and when it was opened in -his presence he was very much astonished, and extremely dissatisfied, -at finding that instead of being left a considerable legacy, as he -expected, he should be obliged to give Nanette six hundred francs out -of the thousand crowns, of which he had already taken possession. He -returned home and communicated his information to his wife, who, being -still more selfish than himself, was more enraged. She overwhelmed with -abuse poor little Nanette, who, quite unconscious of what it all meant, -remained terrified and motionless on the spot. Whilst giving vent to -her passion the woman continued to arrange and sweep out her shop, and -being near Nanette, she struck her with the broom, as if to make her -get out of the way. The child ran crying to another corner of the shop. -The broom which kept on its course seemed to pursue her; she jumped -over it, and went to another part of the room, still it was after -her. The activity of the shopkeeper seemed to increase with Nanette's -terrors, and every movement she made was accompanied by threatening -and abusive language. At length, not knowing where to fly for safety, -the poor child ran to the threshold of the door; the woman pushed her -out with her broom, saying, "Yes! yes! be off, you may be quite sure I -shall not take the trouble to run after you;" and she closed the door -upon her. Nanette remained for some time crying outside. At length, -hearing some one about to open the door, and thinking it was her -persecutor coming out to beat her, she ran off as fast as she could. - -The street in which she happened to be led to the entrance of the town; -when she had advanced some distance into the country she sat down upon -a stone, and, still crying, began to eat a piece of bread, the remains -of her breakfast, which she happened to have in her hand at the moment -of her expulsion from the shop. A little boy came up to her, and asked -what was the matter. Nanette at first made no reply; he repeated his -question, and she told him that she did not know where to go. - -"Come with me to Dame Lapie's," said the little fellow. - -"Who is Dame Lapie?" demanded Nanette. - -"Why Dame Lapie; she lives in the village yonder, but just now she is -begging on the high road. Come along," and he wanted to take Nanette -by the hand, but she drew back. The little boy was dirty and ragged, -and Nanette had been accustomed to neatness. Moreover the sorrow she -had endured the previous day, the death of her protector, the abuse -of the shopkeeper's wife, and her own precipitate flight, had quite -bewildered her, as is nearly always the case with children when -anything extraordinary is passing around them. At those times, not -knowing what to do, they remain in one spot, without coming to any -decision. Nanette sat there on her stone without knowing what was to -become of her, because at that moment her mind was not sufficiently -clear to enable her to decide on leaving it. After several fruitless -attempts to induce her to accompany him, the little boy left her, and -Nanette remained still seated on the stone. Some time after, however, -on looking towards the town, she saw a woman approaching, whom she -mistook for the shopkeeper; she became afraid, got up, and again went -on, still following the high road. - -She walked for a full hour, without knowing whither she went, when at -a turn in the road she perceived an old woman sitting at the foot of -a tree, and surrounded by five or six little children, of from two to -four years of age. The little boy who had spoken to her, and who might -be about seven or eight, was standing talking to the old woman. The -moment he perceived Nanette he pointed her out, saying, "See, there -she is, that is her." Nanette crossed over to the other side of the -road, for she was afraid of every one, but the old woman rose and went -to her. Nanette would have run away, but the woman took her by the -hand, spoke gently to her, and told her not to be frightened, for she -would do her no harm. Nanette looked at her, felt reassured by her kind -expression of countenance, and told her that she had run away from the -town because they wanted to beat her. - -"It is your mother who wanted to beat you," said Dame Lapie; "well -never mind, we will settle that; come, we will go and ask her to -forgive you, and then she will not beat you;" saying this, she made -a movement as if wishing to lead her back to the town. Nanette, -terrified, began to scream and struggle, saying that it was not her -mother, and that she would not return to the town. "Well, then, we -will not go, you shall come with us," but Nanette still struggled -to withdraw her hand; Dame Lapie let it go, and as Nanette went on, -contented herself with following and talking to her. "Who will give -you anything to eat to-day?" she demanded. Nanette, crying, replied, -"I don't know." "Where will you sleep to-night?" asked Dame Lapie. "I -don't know," said Nanette, still crying. "Come with me," continued Dame -Lapie, "I promise you we will not return to the town." "Come with us," -said the little boy, who had also followed her, and Nanette at last -suffered herself to be persuaded. Dame Lapie led her back to the foot -of the tree, gave her a piece of black bread and an apple, and while -eating it, for she was beginning to feel hungry, she recovered her -calmness a little. - -Dame Lapie was an old woman to whom the people of the village intrusted -their children, whilst they went to work in the fields. She had always -five or six, whom she went for in the morning, and took home again -at night. The little boy who had spoken to Nanette, and whose name -was Jeannot, was one of those she had taken care of in this way. His -parents dying whilst he was very young, Dame Lapie would not abandon -him, but not being able to support him herself, she sent him to beg. -She herself also went, and sat by the road-side, with the little -children around her, and asked alms of the passers by; and the parents -of the children were either ignorant of this, or did not trouble -themselves about it, especially as Dame Lapie always shared with the -little ones whatever she obtained. - -Jeannot seeing Dame Lapie receiving children every day, imagined that -all who had no homes ought to go to her; and therefore he had sought -to lead Nanette to her; and the dame, meeting with a little girl -neatly clad, wandering about alone, without knowing where she went, -was persuaded, notwithstanding Nanette's assertions that she had run -away from her mother, to whom she should be rendering a service by -restoring her. She intended, therefore, as soon as she had learned from -Nanette who were her parents, to go and see them, promising to restore -their daughter, on condition that they would not beat her, for Dame -Lapie could not bear the idea of having children ill treated, or even -annoyed. Meanwhile, when she returned at night to the village, she made -Nanette accompany her, and gave her two of the children to lead; this -amused Nanette, but she was not quite so much diverted, when at night -the dame had nothing to give her for supper but the same kind of black -bread which she had had for dinner, and this too without the apple. -Neither did she feel much inclined to sleep with Dame Lapie, whose -bed was very disagreeable; still it was necessary, and she slept very -soundly after all. Jeannot, as usual, slept upon some straw in a corner -of the hut. - -During the night, Dame Lapie was seized with so violent an attack of -rheumatism that she could not move a limb; and, as she was unable to go -to the town, she told Nanette that she must return home to her mother. -Nanette again began to cry, saying that her mother did not live in the -town, that her good friend was dead, and that there remained no one but -of her good friend's sister, and she wanted to beat her; she did not -allude to the Château, for she was still more afraid of Dubois than -of the shopkeeper. Dame Lapie asked where her mother was, but Nanette -scarcely remembered the name of her native village; everything she -said on the subject was so confused, and she cried so much, that the -old woman could make nothing out, and resolved to let the matter rest -for the present. On several occasions, during the following days, she -renewed her questions, but always with the same result; and, too ill to -insist much on the matter, she determined, as soon as she was better, -to go to the town and make inquiries herself. - -Nanette, meanwhile, rendered her a thousand little services; she was -gentle and attentive, and delighted in giving pleasure. The constant -attention required by Mademoiselle Gerard had rendered her alive to the -wants of sick people. She also took care of the little children, who -were always brought to Dame Lapie's, and, accompanied by Jeannot, went -out with them upon the road. Jeannot did all he could to cheer her; but -she was sad. She remembered the good dinners she had with Mademoiselle -Gerard, and the black bread became distasteful to her; nevertheless, -there was nothing else for her, and not always enough even of that. On -one occasion, she was obliged to go to bed supperless, and passed a -part of the night in crying; but so as not to be heard by Dame Lapie, -because, whenever the dame saw her crying from hunger, she scolded her, -and asked her why she did not go and beg like Jeannot. - -The winter had passed; the spring was very wet; and when it rained, -the water penetrated into Dame Lapie's hut, which was somewhat below -the level of the street. This rendered it very unhealthy. It was also -unhealthy for Nanette to sleep with this old woman, who was an invalid. -Nanette was naturally of a delicate constitution, and the misery in -which her infancy had been passed left her in a state of but very -moderate health at the time she was taken by Madame de Vesac. Under -the care of Mademoiselle Gerard, she recovered her strength, but not -sufficiently to enable her to bear the present relapse into misery. -If Jeannot was able to endure the same inconveniences, it was because -he was of a strong, lively, and active temperament, which prevented -him from yielding to depression; whereas Nanette, mild, quiet, and -even a little inclined to indolence, gave way to discouragement and -sadness--a thing which always increases our troubles. Jeannot besides -was a favourite with the neighbours; every one caressed him, and gave -him something; but they had been greatly displeased by the arrival -of Nanette, and thought it very wrong of Dame Lapie to take charge -of a child of whom she knew nothing, and who, they said, was only -an additional beggar in the village; so that not unfrequently, when -Nanette went into the streets, she heard the women and children crying -out against her. Under the combined influence of grief, unwholesome -food, and want of cleanliness, Nanette soon fell ill. She was seized -with a fever, and in the course of a few days became dreadfully -changed. Dame Lapie, who was now able to leave her bed, and attend to -the children, told her that, as she could not beg, she must at least go -with Jeannot, who would beg for her; and that she would get the more -when it was seen that she was so ill. Jeannot, who was much more quick -and shrewd than Nanette, led her by the hand, and she suffered him to -do so, for she had no longer the strength to resist anything. When -they reached a spot where they could be seen by those who passed along -the road, she seated herself on a stone, or at the foot of a tree, and -Jeannot solicited alms for his little sister who was ill; and, indeed, -she looked so ill and so unhappy, that she excited commiseration, and -obtained for Jeannot additional contributions. - -Meantime, Cecilia carried into execution her determination of writing -to Mademoiselle Gerard; but as she, of course, addressed her letter -to the Château, it was received by Dubois, who for some days had no -opportunity of forwarding it to the town, and in the interval learned -that Mademoiselle Gerard was dead. He was then grieved at having -treated her with so much brutality the day before her departure; but -as for Nanette, when told that she had run away from the shopkeeper's, -and had not since been heard of, he took no further trouble in the -matter, quite satisfied in his own mind that she was a thief, and that -they were very fortunate to be rid of her. Of all these matters he sent -an account to Madame de Vesac; but her husband having recovered and -returned to active service, she had just left for Paris, and neither -received this letter nor the one sent to her by Mademoiselle Gerard a -few days prior to her death, and which, having passed through Paris, -had been delayed a considerable time on the way. Madame de Vesac stayed -only a few days at the capital, and then set out with her daughter -for her country-seat, ignorant of all that had lately happened there. -She had made inquiries of Cecilia respecting Mademoiselle Gerard; -and Cecilia being unable to give her any information, was obliged to -confess her negligence. Her mother severely reprimanded her, though -little imagining the misfortunes this negligence had produced. - -They were four days on their journey, and while changing horses at -the last post but one, Cecilia descended from the carriage, and -leaving the yard of the inn, went to breathe the fresh air on the high -road. Immediately a little boy came towards her, asking charity for -his little sister who was ill, at the same time pointing her out to -Cecilia, who, in fact, beheld a little girl seated on the ground, with -a dying look, and her head leaning against a stone; at that moment -she was sleeping; her clothes were in rags, and so dirty, that their -colour could scarcely be distinguished. Cecilia, while looking at -her, was seized with pity, and struck by her resemblance to Nanette; -but it never occurred to her that it could be Nanette. Just then she -was called, and giving the little boy a penny, telling him it was -for his sister, she returned to the carriage, her mind filled with -the thought of the poor little girl she had just seen; yet she did -not dare to speak of her to her mother, fearing that by recalling -the memory of Nanette she might revive those reproaches which her -conscience told her she deserved. What, then, was her consternation, -when, on arriving at the Château, she was informed of the death of -Mademoiselle Gerard, and the disappearance of Nanette. While Dubois -was relating these particulars, Madame de Vesac fixed her eyes upon -her daughter, who at one moment looked at her with an expression of -great anxiety, and at the next cast down her eyes ashamed. As soon as -Dubois had left the room, Cecilia, pale and trembling, with clasped -hands, and a look of despair, said to her mother, "Oh! mamma, if it -was that little girl I saw close to the post-house, who looked as if -she were dying." Her mother asked her what grounds she had for such an -idea. Cecilia informed her, and, while doing so, wept bitterly; for -the more she thought of the subject, the less doubt did she entertain -of its being poor little Nanette. "I am sure I recognised her," she -continued; "and now I remember that she wore the blue dress I gave her. -It was all torn, and I could scarcely tell the colour; but it was the -same, I am sure. Poor little Nanette!" And with this, she redoubled her -tears. She entreated that some one might be sent immediately to the -inn, to make inquiries; but it was then too late in the day, and she -dreaded lest the delay of a few hours should render Nanette so much -worse as to be past recovery. Her agitation increased every moment. -Madame de Vesac gave orders that the following morning, as soon as -it was light, some one should go to the post-house, to ascertain if -the people knew anything of the little girl who was begging at the -door on the previous day. Cecilia passed a sleepless night, and rose -the next morning before daybreak; and she was awaiting the return of -the messenger even before he had started. He did return at last, but -without any information. Nanette had never before been at the inn, and -the people had not noticed her, and were at a loss to understand the -object of all these inquiries. Cecilia was in hopes she would return -there during the day, and a messenger was again sent to inquire; but -Nanette did not make her appearance, for the post-house was situated -at a considerable distance from the village in which Dame Lapie lived; -and, in her feeble and suffering condition, the walk had so much -exhausted her that she found it impossible to return. "Oh, mamma," -exclaimed Cecilia, "perhaps she is dead." At that moment she felt all -the anguish of the most dreadful remorse; her agitation almost threw -her into a fever. Inquiries were made in the town; and the shopkeeper's -wife stated that Nanette had run away, and no one knew what had become -of her. The neighbours were also applied to; and they, disliking the -sister-in-law of Mademoiselle Gerard, and having heard of the will, -said, that to avoid paying the six hundred francs to Nanette, she was -quite capable of forcing her, by her ill treatment, to run away, and -that perhaps even she had turned her out of doors. To this were added -conjectures and rumours, some declaring that a little girl had been -met one night in the fields, almost perished with cold; others saying -that one had been found on the high road, nearly starved to death; -but when questioned further on the point, no one could tell who had -seen this little girl, nor what had become of her; for these were only -false reports, such as are always circulated in cases of disaster. -Cecilia, however, believed them, and they threw her into despair. At -this time, Mademoiselle Gerard's letter reached them; it contained a -complete justification of Nanette, whom Dubois persisted in regarding -as a thief; it also proved that, if Cecilia had written immediately on -the receipt of her first letter, Nanette would not have been lost. This -redoubled Cecilia's distress. To complete it, there arrived another -letter, bearing the post-mark of the village in which Nanette's mother -lived. It was written by the clergyman, at the poor woman's request. In -this letter, she said that they had several times heard--but not until -it was too late,--that Madame de Vesac had passed by. This had very -much grieved her, as she would have been glad to have seen her daughter -for a moment; but she was told that Nanette was not with them, and -feeling extremely uneasy, she entreated Mademoiselle Cecilia--to whom -the letter was addressed--to send her some intelligence of her child. -The clergyman concluded by saying: "God will bless you, my dear young -lady, because you do not abandon the poor." This letter pierced Cecilia -to the heart. She grew thin with grief and anxiety; every time the -door opened, she fancied there was some news of Nanette. Her eyes were -constantly directed towards the avenue, as if she expected to see her -coming; and at night she woke up with a start at the slightest noise, -as if it announced her return. At last her mother resolved that they -would themselves make inquiries in all the neighbouring villages, and -speak to all the clergymen, although still fearing that they were too -late. They therefore set out one afternoon, and as they approached a -village, but a short distance from the town, Cecilia, who was anxiously -looking in every direction, uttered a cry, exclaiming, "Mamma, mamma, -that's her! there she is! I see her! I see the same little boy!" and -she caught hold of the coachman's coat, to make him stop the quicker, -and darting out of the carriage, rushed towards Nanette, who was lying -on the ground, with her head leaning against a tree, seeming scarcely -able to breathe. Cecilia threw herself on the ground by her side, -spoke to her, raised her up, and kissed her. Nanette recognised her, -and began to weep; Cecilia wept also, and taking her upon her knees, -she caressed her, called her her dear Nanette, her poor little Nanette. -The child looked at her with astonishment, while a faint flush animated -her cheeks. Madame de Vesac soon reached the spot. Cecilia wanted to -have Nanette put instantly into the carriage, and taken home; but -Madame de Vesac questioned Jeannot, who stood staring in the utmost -astonishment, utterly unable to comprehend the meaning of what he -saw. While Cecilia was arranging Nanette in the carriage, Madame de -Vesac, conducted by Jeannot, went to Dame Lapie's cottage. The old -woman was sitting at her door, still unable to walk, and related all -she knew about the child. Madame de Vesac gave her some money, and -returned to Cecilia, who was dying with impatience to see Nanette home, -and in a comfortable bed. She got there at last. Cecilia nursed her -with the greatest care, and for a whole week never left her bedside, -frequently rising in the night to ascertain how she was. At last the -surgeon pronounced her out of danger; but it was long before she was -restored to health, and still longer before she recovered from the -sort of stupidity into which she had been thrown by such a series of -misfortunes and suffering. When quite well, Cecilia was desirous of -resuming her education with more regularity than formerly; but this -education had now become still more difficult than at first, and -Cecilia could no longer assume her former authority; for, whenever she -was going to scold Nanette, she remembered how much she had suffered -through her negligence, and dared not say a word. She felt that to have -the right of doing to others all the good we wish, and of ordering -what may be useful to them, we must never have done them any injury. -She therefore sent Nanette to school, and economized her allowance, -in order to be able afterwards to apprentice her to a business. The -brother of Mademoiselle Gerard was made to refund the six hundred -francs; but Cecilia desired that the sum might be kept for a marriage -portion for Nanette, when she was grown up. Madame de Vesac gave -Jeannot a suit of clothes; and Dame Lapie had permission to send every -week to the château for vegetables. Madame de Vesac spent not only this -summer, but the winter also, and the following summer, in the country; -so that Nanette had time to learn to read, and make some progress in -writing. This was a source of great joy to Cecilia, who, for some -time, feared that her mind was totally stupified. In conversing on the -subject with her mother, after she had been relieved of all anxiety in -regard to it, Madame de Vesac said to her: "We never know what injury -we may do when we confer favours heedlessly and solely for our own -pleasure, and without being willing to give ourselves any trouble. This -is not the way to do good. Those whom you neglect, after having led -them to expect assistance, find, when you have abandoned them, that -they had calculated upon you, and are now without resource; so that you -have done them more harm than if you had never aided them." - - - - -THREE CHAPTERS IN THE LIFE OF NADIR. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE ROSE. - - -In the month of Flowers, in Farsistan, the Land of Roses, three -youths inhaled the perfumed air of the morning, as they sported in -the flower-covered fields, and amid the leaves, sparkling with dew. -Pleasure directed their steps towards the depths of a dark grove, into -which the heat of the first beams of day had not yet penetrated. A -celestial fragrance mingled with the first exhalations of the verdure. -One single sunbeam had pierced the thick foliage, as if to point out, -with its golden finger, a Rose, the loveliest of roses. The dew-drops -bathed it as they passed, or crept, for its refreshment, into its -bosom, coloured with transparent tints of light and shade; and the -zephyr of the grove seemed to have no other care than to balance it -on its delicate stem. Proudly, but timidly, did it raise its head, -expanding like the countenance of a young girl, whose lips scarce dare -to smile, while already happiness is beaming in her eyes. - -"Oh! lovely flower," said Zuléiman, "I will carry thee to Schiraz; -this day shalt thou adorn the feast; the poets of Persia shall sing of -thy perfume and thy beauty;" and already was his hand stretched forth -to pluck the Rose. - -"Stop!" cried Massour, "why thus cut short the bright hours of its -life? Think, Zuléiman, think how, after shining for a few brief moments -in the crown of a guest, or in the garland destined to adorn the vases -of the feast, consumed by the burning breath of men, and sinking -beneath the vapour of their cups, it will droop that head now so full -of vigour, and let fall, one after the other, its fading petals, until -at night, trodden under foot, it will scarcely leave upon the ground a -faint trace of its existence." - -"What matters it," continued the impetuous Zuléiman, "whether it perish -amid the splendours of a court, or upon its slender stem? A single day -is the term of its existence, and that day will at least have been a -glorious one. Poor flower! I will not suffer thee thus to lavish in -forgetfulness thy fragrant odour and soft beauty in this secluded spot, -where thou art scarce known, even to the nightingale and the zephyr." - -"And is it not enough," said Massour, "that it should possess an -existence thus fragrant and beautiful, that it should enjoy the -thick shade, and inhale the delicious freshness of this grove; here -peacefully to bloom away its life, here gently to shed its leaves when, -pale but not withered, they fall one by one, as vanish, without pain, -blessings that have been enjoyed, as glide away the last days of a -happy life, softly coloured by remembrance?" - -"Wretched happiness," said Zuléiman; "noble flower, thou wilt not -accept it! I see thee swell and unfold thy leaves, proud with the -thought of shining in the world." And a second time he was about to -pluck the flower. - -"Stop!" cried Nadir, in his turn seizing the arm of Zuléiman; then -for a moment he was silent, his eyes fixed upon the rose; a painful -anxiety tormented his heart: he shuddered at the thought of abandoning -to such sudden destruction that flower, so brilliant and so happy, -while at the same time he sighed to see it waste, useless and unknown, -the treasures of its precious existence. "Stop! Zuléiman!" he -continued, "let us not thus rashly precipitate things into the abyss of -our wills before examining what may be the destiny marked out for them -by the Father of beings." - -At this moment, a sage was seen approaching. The world had no secrets -from him. He understood the language of the birds, and could divine the -thoughts of the flowers. He knew what is still more difficult: how to -select the narrow path of duty in the intricate ways of life, and to -trace out its precise direction; the only rule capable of sustaining -the mind of man, and of guiding his will amidst the uncertainties of -desire. The three youths addressed him at once: "Father," said they, -"enlighten our doubts, unfold to us the destiny of this Rose." - -As the sage was about to reply, warlike sounds were heard. Zuléiman -sprang forward, seized his arms, and hurried to range himself beneath -the standard of the Sophi. Massour, with a smile, inhaled the perfume -of the flower which he fancied he had preserved, and returned to the -palace of his father, to enjoy the delights of life. - -"My son," said the sage to Nadir, "this is the hour in which thy -grandsire has need of thy assistance, that he may warm himself in the -rays of the morning sun. Let not an old man lose one of those reviving -beams." And Nadir hastened to obey the words of the Sage. - -In the evening, his mind still perplexed with the same doubt, Nadir -returned to the grove. The sage was there; and there, also, was the -Rose. Its perfume was beginning to languish; its full-blown leaves -seemed to have exhausted the plenitude of existence, and to be -expending their last powers. "One night, at most, will terminate its -life," said Nadir: "perhaps the morning zephyr is already commissioned -to waft away its remains. Tell me, O father! if, in thus wasting on its -stem, it has fulfilled the destiny appointed for it by the Most High, -and to which it was called by its own nature." - -"This morning, my son," resumed the sage, "it might have cast a look of -sadness on the obscure retreat to which Providence had condemned it. -It might have inquired of the Most High, wherefore that rich fragrance -enclosed within its breast; wherefore the ravishing colours with which -it is adorned? but at noon there came a traveller, overpowered by -fatigue; his eyes, distressed by the dazzling brilliancy of the day, -demanded comfort; his sense of smell sought deliverance from the dust -of the road; all his senses required refreshment, all his body called -for repose. Attracted by the fragrance of the Rose, he penetrated -into its retreat; it delighted his eye, and revived his senses; it -remained suspended over his head while he slept, lavishing on him its -rich perfume till the evening; and he departed, refreshed, happy, and -blessing the Rose whose dying fragrance now rises in thankfulness -towards the Most High, for the destiny he had assigned it." Nadir also -raised his thoughts to heaven, and blessed the Lord of nature for the -destiny of the Rose. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE TRIBE. - - -The next day Nadir returned to seek the sage, and thus addressed -him:--"Father, man is not like the flower, fixed upon a stem, he can of -himself advance towards his destiny; ought he then, like the Rose, to -wait until the traveller demands his perfume? Tell me, oh! father, what -is the destiny which God has assigned to man; what is the happiness to -which it is the will of Heaven that he should aspire?" - -"My son," replied the sage, "the virtue as well as the happiness of -the plant consists in patience. There, in the retreat in which God -has placed it, let it await his will, and if it die without having -been made use of, if its salutary properties return with it into the -earth, still let it not murmur; for God has seen it, and the Most High -rejoices in his own works. - -"The animal is destined for action, but in the interest, and under the -direction of man. Obedience is his duty, it is the merit which will be -accounted to him, the blessing of which he may avail himself. The horse -whose submissive ardour obeys with joy the signal of his master, feels -neither the whip nor the spur. - -"Man, my son, has received the power of voluntary action. Let him not -suffer either his deed or his will to perish uselessly, but let him -earnestly seek out the portion of labour assigned to him by God in -the work of the Universe. Let him submit to it with docility, under -the guidance of the Most High, who deigns to make him the instrument -of His decrees; and let him accept with resignation the measure of -success, which it may be the will of Heaven to bestow." - -"Oh! my father," demanded Nadir, "how, amidst this array of human -activities, amidst this immense variety of labours which the world -spreads out before me, how may I always distinguish the portion of the -work to which it is the will of Heaven that I should devote my powers?" - -"Always look around and see in what direction thou canst do the most -good, without doing any evil. - -"Ask of the creatures of God such assistance as they can render thee, -without acting in contradiction to the destiny imposed upon them by -their Father, and thine. - -"Gather the fruit of the vine, but break not its stem to form thy -staff. For the stem of the vine, left to its natural destiny, will -still for many years offer a grape to the parched lips of the pilgrim. -When thou no longer needest the axe, take not its handle to feed the -flame of thy hearth, for though no longer useful to thee, the handle of -the axe is not the less destined to fulfil a long service. - -"Go, my son, be active as the fire that never sleeps, docile as the -courser to the impulse of the hand which guides him, resigned as the -solitary plant." - -Such were the counsels of the sage; and Nadir departed to begin life. - -Nadir was beautiful as the moon, when from the blue vault of heaven she -silently looks down upon the earth; agile and proud as the stag, at -the head of a troop of fawns and young deer; compassionate as a mother -to the cries of her child. His words reverberated in the depths of the -heart like the cymbal, whose every sound responds to the step of the -warrior, burning with impatience to reach his enemy; and when his voice -burst forth in song, or when his hand swept the lyre, it seemed as if -one were transported to the borders of fountains where the sound melts -away in rapture, to the harmonious voices of earth and air. - -One day he had to make his choice between two paths. "The first," it -was said, "will conduct you to the abodes of a happy people, rich in -the joys of life, and skilful in using them: your talents and beauty -will there secure to you pleasure, glory, and fortune. By following the -other, you will find a tribe of savage men, wild as their native woods, -hard as the rocks they scale." The young blood of Nadir rushed towards -the spot where difficulty and labour awaited him. He recollected the -words of the sage, and found them grateful to his heart. "There," he -said, "is a good that I can accomplish, these happy people have no need -of me." And he bent his steps towards the savage tribe. - -For three days a terrible lion had spread desolation and terror -throughout their neighbourhood: all night its roaring was heard around -their dwellings: in the day he pounced silently upon his prey. The -timid maiden, gathering wild roots, dreaded to see him spring from -behind each bush; the mother dared not leave her child within the hut; -and the warrior, who went forth with spear in hand, looked anxiously -around, fearing to seek the game which he had wounded in the cavern -or the pit, lest he should meet the terrible animal ready to dispute -it with him. Nadir arrived; the temper of his scimitar, the vigour of -his arm, the courage of his soul triumphed over the lion. The people -worshipped him as a god: the heads of the tribe came to him and said, -"Thou art stronger than we are: command us; and with us thou shalt be -the master of this people." - -Nadir reflected: "I can impose wise laws upon this people: but, if they -submit to them by force, they will act in opposition to the destiny -which God has appointed for man, which is, to act in accordance with -his own will." Therefore, before disclosing to them his thoughts, Nadir -listened to theirs; and their thoughts, on the lips of Nadir, became a -music enchanting to their ears. He did not force them to exchange the -spear for the plough, nor the toil of the wandering huntsman for that -of the industrious labourer; but he headed their chase, and at their -feasts purchased at the price of fatigue and danger: he expatiated, in -glowing language, on the luxury of fruits improved by culture, of cakes -made from wheaten flour, of the presents conferred by the goat, who -gives to man her milk, when he ceases to demand her blood. Clad like -them, in the skins of the wild beasts he had slain, he taught the young -men to place them on their shoulders with more elegance; and the women -were eager to fashion them with grace, in order to give pleasure to the -young men. Labour introduced among this people abundance, sociability, -and innocent gaiety; and they sang: "Nadir is a gift more precious than -a son to his mother; for he renders us happy without having ever caused -us pain." - -Nevertheless, there were some among them who rebelled against the -power which the people had delegated to Nadir. First in this number -was a young man named Sibal: he was seized. The chiefs who recognized -the superiority of Nadir, and the old men, to whom he had taught the -science of counsel, exclaimed, "Let Sibal die, that his death may be a -warning to others!" - -But Nadir replied: "Has he not received from God a destiny more suited -to his nature than that of dying for the benefit of others, like the -grain which they grind for food?" He ordered Sibal to be brought into -his presence, and said, "Why dost thou seek to reject my laws? Is thy -heart not strong enough to bear them?" - -"Thy laws, like the honey of the bee," said Sibal, "may be sweet to -him who has made them; but I cannot feed upon the honey from another's -hive." - -"Let him who is also capable of making honey," replied Nadir, "assist -those who are occupied in filling the hive. Aid me in giving laws to -this people, and govern them with me, if thou art competent; if thou -art more competent, govern them in my stead." - -Sibal fell prostrate before him. The words of Nadir had sunk deep into -his heart, even as the shower which awakens the germs still sleeping -in the bosom of the earth, and he said: "Oh, Nadir! I am worthy of -something better than the death to which they would have condemned me;" -and as the father begets the sons who increase his power, so Nadir -taught wisdom to Sibal, and the wisdom of Sibal increased the strength -of Nadir; and the life of Sibal was before the eyes of this people an -example, which would have been lost by his death: for the voice of each -morning raises a hymn to the glory of the sun, but the earth forgets in -a few hours the cloud which passes away in storm. - -The wonders accomplished by Nadir were related at the Court of the -Sophi, on whom this tribe depended; and the Court wished to draw him -to itself, as it does everything precious. He went, therefore, to the -Court of the Sophi. There he beheld Zuléiman, who had distinguished -himself in arms. He had surpassed every warrior in valour, every chief -in discipline. The Sophi had just delegated to him the government of a -province which he had conquered. "Govern it in peace," he said, "since -thou hast gained it by war." But Zuléiman was only fit for subjugating -men; a thing which may be done so long as war lasts. The huntsman -traces out, according to his pleasure, the enclosure within which he -wishes to shut up and pursue the beasts of the forest; but the shepherd -leads his flocks to the pastures which they themselves prefer. - -Zuléiman did not crush his people by his avarice; he did not subject -them to unworthy favourites, neither did he force them to respect a -degrading idleness; on the contrary, he required them to adorn their -towns with religious edifices; he obliged them to construct, upon -the path of the traveller, fountains, shaded by palm-trees; and to -send their children to schools, in which they might be well educated. -But since, in the means he took to obtain their obedience, he did not -consult their character, but his own, they did not adapt their wills -to his laws; but as the branch, of which the child forms his bow, when -subjected to a curve contrary to its nature, wounds the hand which -forces it, or, breaking loose, darts from his grasp; so they, being -constrained by force to bend to his laws, obeyed his rule with hatred, -or evaded it by stratagem. - -"These men," said Zuléiman, "are perverse. I sow amongst them the good -seed of virtue, and they return to me the tares of vice." - -"Brave Zuléiman," replied Nadir, "men become perverse through hatred of -a rule opposed to their inclinations. Think not to conduct them to good -by laws at variance with the powers which God has bestowed upon them -for its attainment. The will of a tyrant is like a thunderbolt hurled -against a rock: the rock turns it off, and it strikes a temple." - -One day a slave was labouring with his axe on the gnarled trunk of an -oak which he wished to fell. It had already wearied his arm, and he -demanded time for repose, but in vain; Zuléiman would not grant it. -Then the slave, summoning his remaining strength, raised his axe--but -only to let it fall in vengeance on the head of Zuléiman. Nadir hurried -to the spot, and found him expiring. Zuléiman said to him: "If I sought -to precipitate events, it was only that the short period of life might -still leave me time for the accomplishment of great deeds." - -"Oh! Zuléiman," replied Nadir, "nothing can be truly great, but that -which accords with the destiny traced out for man by the finger of Him -who alone is great." But Nadir mourned for Zuléiman: for he had been -powerful in action, and only failed by depending too much on obedience. - -Nadir also visited the Palace of Massour. He beheld him, like a fruit, -nourished by the prodigality of a too fertile soil, by the abundance -of the fountains, and the moist freshness of the shade; the purifying -breath of heaven, the generous ardour of the sun, have never penetrated -its retreat. Swelled with useless juice, insipid and discoloured, it -hangs, bearing down by its weight the branch which supports it. Such -appeared Massour. Life was to him dull and weary; for he knew not how -to restore its vigour. In vain he sought for novelty in his luxuries: -the cup of pleasure was filled to the very brim; to pour in more was -but to make it overflow, without increasing its contents. - -Massour, too, was threatened by misfortune; and he beheld it as we -behold a phantom, which chills us with terror, though we know it is but -a phantom. His riches no longer gave him joy; yet to preserve these -riches, he abandoned, though with tears, to the hatred of a powerful -enemy, the friend who had implored his aid. - -Then Nadir departed from the Palace of Massour, saying, "God has given -activity to man, as he has given the current to the waters, to preserve -them from corruption." - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE DESERT. - - -Nadir, in his turn, was visited by misfortune. Calumny pursued him: -injustice extended high enough to reach him. He was banished from the -wife of his bosom, from the son whose eyes were just opened to the -light, and his life was dried up like the summer, when, although full -of fire and vigour, it has lost its colours. - -The people, whom he had taught to be industrious and happy, were given -up to avaricious men, who converted their labour into an oppressive -burden; and the memories which once refreshed the soul of Nadir now -became to him a bitter and empoisoned spring. - -He beheld iniquity spreading over his land, and was forced to behold it -in silence. Iniquity dreaded even his silence, and Nadir was compelled -to fly into barren deserts, where the devouring eyes of iniquity come -not to seek their prey. He here met the sage, who said to him: "I -wished to end my days in peace. These rocks, which have been piled -immoveable one upon the other since the birth of the world, will not -renounce their nature to rush down of their own accord and crush me. -The rain may benumb my limbs with cold, without my accusing it of any -want of obedience to the law which was given to it; therefore, I bear -no hatred to these threatening rocks, nor to the rain which chills me; -but the sight of iniquity wearies my soul into hatred of it: for there -were twins produced at one birth--iniquity, which is the foe of order; -and the hatred of iniquity, which is the re-establishment of order." - -Shortly after he had uttered these words, the sage expired; and Nadir, -beholding him close his eyes, exclaimed, "Now, indeed, I am alone." - -The eyes of the sage once more opened, and he said: "My son, the plant -knows that it is seen by God, but man bears God within himself; let -him then never say I am alone;" and with these words the sage expired. -Nadir left the cavern, and reflected on the meaning of his words. -Seated upon a rock, he beheld a serpent gliding towards him from -between the stones, now and then raising its head, and looking round as -if seeking for some object on which to vent its fury. Nadir seized a -piece of the rock, and crushed the head of the serpent, while the body -writhed and struggled long after the head had remained crushed between -the stones. At last it lay motionless, stretched along the rock. Nadir -surveyed it: he also surveyed the lifeless remains of the sage extended -in the cavern. "Both," said he, "are about to give back to the earth -the dust which they took from it; but what advantage was there in -taking the serpent from the dust?" And he questioned the work of the -Most High. - -[Illustration: Three Chapters on the Life of Nadir, p. 110.] - -The sun had just sunk behind the rocks which bounded the horizon. A -cold wind arose, driven by dark clouds; it whistled through the rocks -and penetrated even to the heart of Nadir, already filled with grief -for the death of the sage. He remained motionless, abandoning himself, -without defence, to the cold wind and to his grief. But a thought of -the past arose to his mind: he remembered what he had been, and said, -"Nadir shall not perish overpowered by affliction and the winds of -night!" He arose, gathered the leaves and brambles scattered here and -there in the clefts of the rock, where also grew the wild roots which -served him for food. He obtained fire from a flint; a brilliant flame -suddenly burst forth from the midst of a thick smoke; the light played -upon the rocks, and seemed to people the desert. The features of -the sage reposing in the cavern, were lighted up with a tint resembling -that of life. Nadir gazed upon him, and tears flowed from his eyes, to -the memory of friendship; but strength had once more returned to his -soul. The flame grew dim, sank, and at last died away. A grey coating -of ashes covered the still burning embers; but soon, of that great heap -of brambles, there remained nothing but a faint trace, scarcely visible -upon the spot on which they were consumed. "Behold," said Nadir, "they, -too, have returned to the dust; but I, whom they have warmed, what -right have I to ask why they were taken from it?" - -The wind had died away, bearing with it the dark clouds. The moon -slowly unveiled her disk in the blue vault of heaven, where trembled -myriads of glittering stars. Each one of these heavenly orbs seemed to -shed a ray upon the heart of Nadir. "Glorious works of the Most High!" -he exclaimed, gazing on them, "what mortal will dare to lift his voice -to ask what purpose ye serve in the Universe?" - -And his eye sought that faint white trace, scarcely visible in the -azure heavens, formed by masses of stars, innumerable as the sands -of the sea-shore, lying in the depths of space, where the eye of man -cannot distinguish them, where they do not even serve to gladden his -sight; and still beyond these almost invisible stars, float perhaps, -in spaces stretching out to infinitude, others of whose existence even -sight gives us no intimation. Nadir dwelt upon these things, then -withdrew his gaze, and turning his thoughts inward, upon himself, he -said, "Even as these stars are lost to me in space, so the good which I -have done will be lost in time. Already perhaps, it no longer exists; -perhaps already it may have been productive of evil: for if those men -are rendered wicked whom I had rendered good, what I have taught them -will only have given them increased power of doing evil. And yet I do -not ask of my conscience "To what purpose have I done good:" for if, -when I have paid my creditor, he should throw the gold he has received -of me into the sea, I should not say, "To what purpose have I paid my -debts?" Sovereign Ruler of the Universe, every creature bears to thee -in tribute, his existence, which is the fulfilment of thy will; and of -this tribute, of which thou formest thy treasures, oh! Great Lord of -Life! who will dare to ask of thee the use?" By the clear moonlight -Nadir beheld the body of the serpent, stretched along the rock, and -said, "Thou hast lived for evil, but even evil pays its tribute to -the will of Heaven. Man knows not its use, as the insect destroyed by -the icy wind of this night knows not that that wind would dispel the -clouds. Oh! serpent, thou hast paid thy tribute: for God had willed thy -existence, and thou hast accomplished by it the intentions of the Most -High." - -Nadir also glanced upon the slight stratum of ashes which the flame had -left upon the rock, and said, "While the flame devoured these brambles, -it warmed my limbs and my heart. When God drew man from the treasures -of his power, he said to him, 'Thou hast the choice of being either the -flame which devours the trunk of the oak, or the heat which emanates -from it, and rejoices the heart of man.' The wicked replied, 'I will -be the devouring flame;' and he thinks only of devouring; but God has -forced him to produce the heat. It is the will of God which has created -good. It is the will of the wicked which creates evil, out of which God -extracts good." - -With such thoughts Nadir calmly slept, and awoke the next morning as -if to a new existence: for he had reposed upon the will of God the -uncertainties of his spirit, and he contemplated, with a steady eye, -the desert and its extent, its solitude and its aridity. He closed -up the cavern where rested the remains of the sage: he returned the -serpent to the earth; and the breath of the morning had scattered -in the air the ashes of his hearth; but their lessons remained in -his heart, and he said, "All nature deposits germs in the heart of -man, and man nourishes them and elevates them to the thought of God." -Nevertheless, this thought of God sometimes troubled him. Filled with -it, his soul longed to rush towards him; and he prostrated himself, -saying, "My God, I know thee but as the friend whose eyes languish for -the sight of his friend." - -Nadir was again uplifted by the returning wave of fortune. Iniquity -had passed over his country like a storm, and his people revived in -the freshness of repose after trouble. He again beheld the wife whom -he cherished, and the child already able to clap his hands and utter -cries of joy when he heard pronounced the name of Nadir. He was again -invested with great power to do good; and the more he experienced the -mercies of God, the more he felt the necessity of his presence; and he -sought him in all things. - -One day he beheld his son, filled with anger, rush upon an animal which -was on the point of biting his nurse, and he said, "God has spoken to -this child, for whence could he have learned love and courage?" - -He surprised the wicked, endeavouring to delude himself with pretences, -in order to colour an injustice, which he could commit without danger; -and he said, "God is there before the wicked; for the wicked dare not -go straight to the commission of evil;" and he added, "Great God, whom -I see everywhere, let me feel thy presence still nearer to my heart." - -One day Nadir, deceived by false appearances, condemned to be scourged -a good man, who had been unjustly accused before him, and he pronounced -sentence with his eyes closed, as one who in a dream, unmindful of what -is around him, acts and reasons in accordance with the ideas which -during his sleep exist in his imagination. Whilst submitting to his -punishment, this good man said to his friends, whose indignation burst -forth in bitter invectives, "Let not the commission of one injustice -lead us to commit another in accusing the virtuous Nadir." - -One of the friends of Nadir hastened to him with these words. Struck -with astonishment, he instantly ordered the punishment to be suspended, -and the supposed culprit to be brought into his presence. Then his eyes -were opened, and he beheld before him an innocent man, whom he had -condemned; and the truth burst forth, as a burning light, inflicting -poignant grief upon his heart. In his agony, he wept, and, prostrate, -implored the forgiveness of the good man, who said to him, "Oh! Nadir, -thou hast not injured me, for thou hast not rendered me unjust towards -thee; neither hast thou injured thyself, for it was thy error, and not -thyself, that was unjust towards me." - -Nadir's grief was increased by these words, when he saw what virtue -he had condemned; but, at the same time, the sight of so much virtue -filled his mind with an ineffable pleasure, and his grief passed away -with his tears. In the fulness of his joy, he said to the virtuous man, -"Thou art my brother;" and prostrating himself again, he raised his -thoughts to heaven, saying, "Oh! God, thou livest in us. The perfection -in which thou delightest exists in thyself. It is thy own happiness -which thou communicatest to man, when his soul is lifted up in -ecstasy at the sight of virtue. Father of all Good, Nadir, repentant, -recognizes thee in the delight he experiences in contemplating the -virtue which condemns him." Then he arose, saying, "God lives in us, -and man feels him in himself, and rejoices in his presence;" and the -rapture of the blessed beamed in his countenance. - -The books, in which were recorded the remaining acts of Nadir's life, -have not been preserved; but the sages, who in their old age still -remembered to have listened to his words, relate, that from that moment -peace never departed from his heart, nor serenity from his brow; and -that, at the moment when full of years, he felt his soul ready to take -its flight into the arms of God, even as a child who, in the midst of -its games beholding its father approach, extends his arms to him from -afar, and running to meet him, already relates to him his joys and -pleasures; so did Nadir, with hands and eyes raised to heaven, exclaim, -in holy ecstasy, "Thanks be to thee, O merciful Father! who hast -granted to Nadir every blessing that man can attain upon this earth:" -and his hands dropped, and he sank into repose, for his earthly portion -had fulfilled its destiny. - - - - -THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. - - -Marietta was full of grief, because her mother insisted on her writing -a second copy, her first having been badly done; and she had already -spent nearly half-an-hour, in crying and pouting, a period long enough -to have finished her task in, had she been so disposed. In fact, -Marietta, though nine years old, and possessed of many good qualities, -was often very unreasonable, and the slightest whim or irritability was -sufficient to make her forget her best resolutions. - -"My dear child," said Madame Leroi, who had been quietly working at the -other end of the room, "as there is no help for it, I would advise you -to make up your mind to do what I require." - -"No help for it!" exclaimed Marietta, pettishly; "and where is the -great necessity for my writing this copy?" - -"It must be done, because I wish it." - -"And why do you wish it, mamma?" - -"Because it is necessary." - -"It is necessary because you wish it. Can you not do just what you -please about it?" - -"No, certainly!" - -Then Marietta broke out into a new fit of passion, and throwing -herself back in her chair, she repeated, as she struck her clenched -hands upon the table, "You cannot do as you please, you cannot do as -you please! when I am obliged to obey you in everything. And then the -other day, you said to Madame Thibourg, in speaking of me: I belong -to that child. To say that you belong to me when you are constantly -contradicting me!" - -"It is precisely because I do belong to you," said Madame Leroi, -smiling, "that I am obliged to contradict you." - -"Then, mamma," said Marietta, turning to her mother, with her -arms folded, and speaking in a tone which her anger had rendered -impertinent, "will you have the kindness to explain that to me?" - -"I shall explain nothing to you at present," replied her mother, in -a severe tone; then ordering her to be silent, she compelled her to -resume her work, which, as may be imagined, did not tend to calm -Marietta's irritation; she rebelled in silence, wrote badly, incurred -fresh punishments, and spent the day in alternate faults and despair. -But the next morning she awoke in such good humour, dressed so quickly, -said her prayers with so much fervour, and had so soon put all her -things in order, and completed her early tasks, doing even more -than was required, in order to repair her past misconduct, that at -breakfast-time she at last perceived a smile lighten the countenance of -her mother, who had not laid aside her severity since the previous day. -"At last, mamma," she cried, "you are once more pleased with me." - -"And tell me why I am pleased. Is it on your account, or on my own?" - -"I know it is because I have done my duty; nevertheless, mamma, it -is still true that my duty is your pleasure, and that you are always -mistress, and can do whatever you like with me." - -"What! even drown you as they did the kittens born in the attic last -night." - -"Oh! mamma, I do not mean that; but you can make me do whatever you -wish." - -"So, then, if I should wish you to steal our neighbour's sugar, when -she leaves her door open, or her syrup, or her cups, I should have a -right to order you to do so?" - -"What an idea, mamma! as if you could wish me to do such things!" - -"That is to say, then, that there are things which I have no right to -wish for, nor, consequently, to order you to do. This certainly is a -fine sort of authority. But can I help wishing? If I had not wished to -teach you to read and write; if, when you were an infant, I had not -wished to attend to your wants, or to get up at night when you cried, -should I have had a right to do as I pleased?" - -"But, mamma, you know very well that it would have done me harm if you -had not." - -"Oh! then I must not wish anything that can do you harm, I must only -wish what will be for your good, and this you call following my own -will?" - -"But still, mamma, it is your will that I always obey; since it is you -who command me." - -"And when do I command you to do anything?" - -"When you think it is right." - -"And have I, then, the power of believing just as I please that a thing -is right or wrong?" - -"Certainly, mamma, nobody hinders you." - -Madame Leroi made no reply, but a moment after she said to her -daughter, "Marietta, I am thinking next week of beginning to teach you -to draw with your elbow." - -"What, mamma!" exclaimed Marietta, with a burst of laughter, "To draw -with my elbow! And how shall I hold my pencil?" - -"With the point of your elbow; nothing is easier." - -"Why, mamma, what are you talking about?" continued Marietta, laughing -still more vehemently. - -"Something, my dear, which I beg you to believe for my sake." - -"But, mamma, how am I to believe that?" - -"Did you not tell me just now that we can believe what we please?" - -"But, mamma, that is quite a different matter." - -"For you, perhaps, my child, but as for me I can assure you that when -your copy is badly written, it is impossible for me to believe it well -done, let me examine it as I will. And when you do not choose to do -what you ought, it instantly comes into my head that I must force you -to do it by punishment. How am I to manage? I cannot believe otherwise, -and I am just as much compelled to obey my judgment, as you are to obey -my will. It is no more in my power to bring you up badly than it is in -yours to disobey me." - -Marietta was accustomed to regard duty as an inevitability, though, -for all that, she often failed in it; neither did she think that any -reasonable person could escape from it, any more than they could escape -from superior force. "At all events, mamma," she said, "you must allow -that it is not correct to say that you belong to me." - -At this moment, Madame Thibourg entered. "Come, make haste," she said -to her friend, "I have a ticket for Malmaison; my little girls are -waiting for me in the coach, and I have brought a basket of provisions -for dinner, so make haste." - -"But I have promised to send home this piece of tapestry this week," -replied Madame Leroi, looking anxiously first at her frame and then at -her daughter, who, after having hailed the proposal of Madame Thibourg -with a cry of delight, now stood motionless with anxiety, on beholding -her mother's hesitation. - -"I would with pleasure take charge of Marietta," said Madame Thibourg, -"but my nurse is ill, and as there is water there, I shall have quite -enough to do to take care of my own little girls. You must work a -little more the following days." - -"But if I am ill, as I was last week?... I am afraid it is not right." - -"Oh! you won't be ill, and it is quite right. There are some splendid -pictures there, which you really ought to let Marietta see. Come!" - -"Well then, I suppose I must, since it is right," said Madame Leroi, -smiling, as she looked at her daughter, whose countenance had changed -colour half-a-dozen, times in the course of a minute. - -We may easily imagine what were the raptures of Marietta, how rapidly -her toilet was performed, and how perfect were the enjoyments of -the day. It is needless to expatiate on the delights of a dinner -spread upon the fresh grass, without cloth and without plates; on the -deliciousness of a salad gathered by one's own hands; or upon the -surpassing pleasure of running after every draught to rinse one's glass -in the clear fountain at the entrance of the garden. Marietta, always -affectionate when she was happy, kissed her mother fifty times in the -course of the day, and at night, notwithstanding her fatigue, the -pleasure of talking of these delights kept her so wakeful, that Madame -Leroi was almost obliged to scold her to make her go to bed. "You -forget," she said, "that for having afforded you this gratification, -I shall be obliged to get up at four o'clock for several successive -mornings." - -"But you know, mamma," said Marietta, "that it was for my good; it was -absolutely necessary that I should see the pictures at Malmaison." - -"And why, my child," inquired Madame Leroi, smiling, "must I prefer -your advantage to my own? Am I made for your use? Tell me, do you think -I belong to you?" - -"Oh! mamma," said Marietta, embracing her, "do belong to me, I shall -be so delighted, since it is to do what will give me pleasure." And -Marietta went to sleep upon this idea, which added a new charm to her -dreams. - -No mother, indeed, could have more completely belonged to her child -than Madame Leroi. She was the widow of a clerk, who had left her -unprovided for while Marietta was still an infant. It had never -occurred to her that she had any other object in life than to educate -her daughter, to render her an estimable member of society, and to -enable her to earn for herself a respectable livelihood. The education -of her child was her first object, and to it she sacrificed all the -advantages she might have derived from the exercise of her talents. -Madame Leroi was a skilful musician; in her youth, she had been -destined to teach singing and the harp, but, when eighteen years -old, her chest became so much weakened in consequence of an attack -of measles, that she was obliged to abandon this pursuit. She then -turned her attention to painting, which was natural enough, as her -father was an artist, and had given her lessons in her childhood. But -not long afterwards, she lost her father, and having such limited -means, she considered herself fortunate in marrying M. Leroi, a man -already advanced in years, and of an eccentric character, who would, -on no account, have consented that his wife should pass her time away -from home in giving lessons. As his income was sufficient for their -maintenance, she confined her occupations to the care of her household, -and to the cultivation of her mind, the better to prepare herself for -the education of any children she might be blessed with. After losing -two, she gave birth to Marietta, and from that time all her affections -were concentrated on this child. At the death of her husband, she found -herself once more without resources, or very nearly so, for M. Leroi -having had no idea of marrying until late in life, had sunk all his -savings in the purchase of an annuity, and since his marriage had not -been able to add anything of consequence to them. She now, therefore, -had to consider whether she should not resume the pursuit for which she -had been previously destined, but to do so it would be necessary to -abandon Marietta to the care of strangers, to give up all thoughts of -making her profit by the knowledge, the ideas, and the sentiments which -she had in a manner acquired expressly for her sake, and to suffer -the excellent tendencies which her maternal eye already detected, to -become perverted, or at least weakened. She considered that the point -of most consequence to her daughter's welfare, in the difficult path of -life, which she was probably destined to tread, was to be fortified, -at an early age, by the principles of a virtuous and solid education. -She therefore limited the exercise of her talents to the instruction of -Marietta, whose taste for music seemed to promise great success in that -art. "I shall have lived for her! I shall have made her happy!" she -would sometimes repeat to herself. - -But meanwhile, it was necessary to live. She therefore endeavoured -to discover some sedentary occupation, which would enable her to -provide for their simple wants. She applied herself to tapestry, and -her knowledge of painting rendered her very successful in tracing -and shading every variety of design, whether of flowers, figures, or -landscape. Chance favoured her in this respect; she had soon as much -work as she could attend to, and was well paid for it, for her work was -very superior to that of ordinary hands, and, while affording her the -means of subsistence, it had the additional advantage of enabling her -to attend almost without interruption to the education of her daughter. -Marietta would sometimes say to her, "Mamma, when will you leave off -working so much?" - -"When you are able to work for me," she replied. And if Marietta -happened to be in good humour, this answer made her run to her harp. - -Marietta's tendencies varied within very wide limits. Though possessed -of an elevated character, and great tenderness of heart, she sometimes -yielded to fits of passion, and obstinacy, which rendered her a -totally different being from what she ordinarily was, and made her -wish to annoy her mother, as much as at other times she was anxious to -please her; so that one was alternately charmed by her natural love of -excellence, or indignant at her perversity. Nevertheless, by a mixture -of kindness and firmness, her mother had succeeded in subduing, to -a great degree, all that was harsh in her disposition, and the day -preceding the excursion to Malmaison was the last time Madame Leroi had -seriously to complain of her. - -Still, the morning following this treat, on getting up she began to -feel the effects of the previous day's fatigue. She dressed listlessly, -threw herself into every chair which happened to be in her way, and -when the portress, who came up every day to do their household work, -knocked at the door, she rose so languidly to let her in, that one -might almost have said she was glued to her chair. Then, as if unable -any longer to support herself, she sank into a large arm-chair near the -door, and said to her mother: - -"Indeed, mamma, if you really belonged to me, as you say you do, I -should certainly make you do all my work to-day." - -"Oh! my child," replied her mother, in a half-serious, half-playful -tone; "I expect something much more fatiguing, which is to make you do -it yourself." - -"Really, mamma, that will fatigue you very much!" - -"You cannot think how tired I am, yet for all that I shall be obliged -to say to you, 'Marietta, go and open the door, or go and close the -window, or pick up my ball.'" - -"Well, mamma, and is it you that will be fatigued by these things?" - -"But think, Marietta, how cross you will be! Think how often I shall be -obliged to scold you, in order to make you do your duty; for you know -I must make you do it in order to fulfil my own: for although we have -been to Malmaison, we must nevertheless do our duty. What a day I shall -have! for you are not the girl to spare me in these things." - -"And what makes you think that?" inquired Marietta, somewhat piqued. - -"Oh! it would be all very well," replied Madame Leroi, "if you were -older, and had more sense; I should then say to you, 'My child, so long -as I was necessary to you, I devoted myself to you; now it is your -turn to devote yourself to me, and endeavour to be useful to me; do, -therefore, what I ask you, in order to spare me the trouble;' and you -would do it, for you would be reasonable." - -Marietta immediately got up, put away her things so quickly, and -commenced her lessons with such a firm determination to overcome -her lassitude, that she soon quite forgot it. She carried out her -resolution bravely during the whole morning, and at all points. She -never once hesitated to get up the moment her mother required her to do -so, and even anticipated her commands and wishes as often as she could. -Noticing that Madame Leroi was looking for her footstool she was the -first to perceive it, and hastened to place it under her mother's feet. -On another occasion, when the ball of worsted had rolled to the farther -end of the room, Marietta was there as soon as it, and brought it back -to her mother, who said to her, smiling, "Indeed, Marietta, I shall be -tempted to believe, that to day it is _you_ who belong to _me_;" and -Marietta, full of joy, threw her arms round her mother's neck. However, -the moment after, having stumbled through a passage on the harp, she -became cross with her mother because she made her repeat it. - -"Marietta," said Madame Leroi, "do not force me to remember that it is -_I_ who belong to _you_, and that if you persist I shall be obliged, in -spite of myself, to scold you." - -Marietta immediately resumed her task, and this morning, which had -commenced so unfavourably, terminated without a cloud, and in the -happiest manner possible. - -At their dinner, which was always very simple, they had two mutton -cutlets. "Mamma," said Marietta, "will you give me the one with a bone?" - -"Certainly not, my child," replied her mother, "for you know that I -like it best; and," she added, smiling, "I have your interest too much -at heart to permit you to contract the bad habit of thus preferring -yourself to others." - -"And yet, mamma, you pretend to belong to me." - -"Oh! my child, I know my duty too well to allow you to abuse my -devotion:" and she helped herself to the cutlet. - -"Well," said Marietta, "you profit by it, at all events." - -"Certainly," replied Madame Leroi, in the same strain; "there is -nothing like doing one's duty." Marietta shook her head; but she was -too well satisfied with herself this day to feel any temptation to be -out of humour, and when, soon afterwards, while eating their half-pound -of cherries, Madame Leroi only took two or three, saying, that she did -not care for them, Marietta easily understood that it was only because -she wished to leave more for her. - -In the afternoon, a friend came to pay them a visit; he was old and -uninteresting, and remained the entire evening, much to the annoyance -of Marietta, who was so completely rested from the fatigues of the -previous day, by her morning's labour, that she was very anxious for a -walk: she, therefore, ventured some hints upon the subject, but they -were instantly checked by the severe looks of her mother, while the -deafness of M. Lebrun prevented him from noticing them. Poor Marietta -therefore endeavoured to be patient, and settled herself down as well -as she could. "Mamma," she said, as soon as their visitor was gone, -"has M. Lebrun amused you very much?" - -"No, my child, but he is a man to whom I owe respect; he has come a -great distance, and on no account would I have shortened his visit." - -"Well, then, mamma," replied Marietta, with a confident air, though -with a heavy sigh, "I am, at all events, glad to find that there are -some things which you can do contrary to my interests; for most -assuredly it was not to do me a service, that you deprived me of my -walk, a thing beneficial to my health." - -"Ah, my child! you little think how much it was to your interest that I -did not take you for a walk to-day." - -"Come, mamma, let me see how you will prove that." - -"You will not die in consequence; at least I trust not; consider, then, -how injurious it would have been to your education had I granted a -request which you ought not to have made, for you must allow that you -ought not to have asked, or even wished me to be in any manner wanting -in respect towards M. Lebrun." - -"Very well, mamma, I see that you find duties on all sides, which -oblige you to contradict me." - -"And make yourself quite easy, my dear child," said her mother, patting -her cheek caressingly, "I will not fail in a single one." - -Marietta pouted a little, though with a smile; the good conduct of the -morning guaranteed that of the evening. - -The following day she accompanied her mother, to purchase some dresses -which they required. They were first shown two remnants exactly -similar, which were very cheap, and contained sufficient to make -Marietta a dress, with a jacket for the winter, leaving besides a good -deal for mending. Marietta was greatly tempted by another piece, very -much prettier, but as it did not seem that Madame Leroi's dress could -be got out of the two remnants, it was necessary that she should be -contented to take them for her share. While she was vainly exerting -her eloquence, to induce the draper to let her have a dress cut from -the pretty piece at the same price as the remnants, Madame Leroi, by -dint of measuring and calculating had come to the conclusion, that by -joining the sleeves, and by making a plain dress instead of a pelisse -as she had at first intended, the remnants would answer for her, and -she could thus leave the other for her daughter. Marietta at first -opposed this arrangement, but at length allowed her scruples to be -overcome, and full of joy carried off her pretty dress under her arm, -opening the paper every moment on her way back to have a peep at it. -When, on reaching home, she spread it out upon her bed to admire -it, and allow the portress to do so too, she cast her eyes upon her -mother's remnants, and sighed; then seating herself upon Madame Leroi's -knees, and throwing her arms around her neck,--"Mamma," she said, in -a somewhat saddened tone, "was it also for the sake of duty that you -allowed me to have the pretty dress?" - -"No, my darling," replied her mother, tenderly embracing her, "it was -for my pleasure." And Marietta, her heart beating with delight, yielded -without restraint to the happiness she felt in the acquisition of her -new dress, for she saw that the more it was admired, the greater was -her mother's satisfaction at having made this sacrifice for her. - -In proportion as Marietta increased in sense, she perceived more -clearly that, if it be the joy of a mother to sacrifice herself for -her children, it is her duty to teach them not to abuse her kindness; -and being at length persuaded that her mother contradicted her only -when she was obliged to do so, she exerted herself to spare her -this necessity, and succeeded so well, that their mutual confidence -increased daily, and they were almost like two friends. - -However, when about fourteen years of age, Marietta having grown very -fast, fell into a kind of languor, which made her sad and fretful. -Although she had acquired sufficient self-control to overcome some -portion of her irritability, there still remained quite enough to -exercise the affectionate indulgence of Madame Leroi, who, fearing to -excite to a dangerous degree the irritable disposition of her daughter, -displayed the utmost patience in bringing her back to reason; and -Marietta, when her better feelings returned, was almost ready to adore -her mother for her condescension. - -One day, Madame Thibourg happened to be present at one of these -outbursts of temper. She began by reasoning with Marietta; then -becoming provoked by her asperity, and unreasonableness, and the tone -which she assumed towards her mother, who was endeavouring to quiet -her, she ended by telling her a few severe truths, which threw Marietta -into such a state of excitement, that she rushed out of the room with -cries and tears, and almost in convulsions. Her mother, who went to -seek her after the departure of Madame Thibourg, found her still -trembling, but calm, and deeply ashamed of what had taken place; though -she endeavoured to excuse herself by urging that Madame Thibourg had -taken a pleasure in pushing her to extremities. - -"She took pleasure, my child," replied her mother, "in proving to -you, that she was right and that you were wrong. You wished to do the -same with regard to her; and even supposing that you both considered -yourselves right, was it not your place to yield?" - -"Oh, mamma! that is not how you act towards me," said Marietta, melting -into tears at the conviction of her error, for at that moment she -remembered all her mother's kindness. - -"My child," said Madame Leroi, "it is because I belong to you that I -ought to sacrifice every personal feeling, rather than cause you a -single emotion capable of injuring your character, or your health; but -tell me, Marietta, do you think there is any one else in the world who -belongs to you, except your mother?" - -Deeply moved, and still excited by the scene which had just occurred, -Marietta threw herself, sobbing, into her mother's arms. "Oh, -mamma!" she exclaimed; "it is you who treat me with indulgence and -consideration, you to whom I ought always to yield more than to any one -else." - -"Yes, my child, you ought to do so, and you will do so. What I -sacrifice to you now, you will return to me one day with interest. -Be calm, my dear child, be calm; your mother has patience enough -to wait for you." Marietta vowed in her heart to devote herself to -the happiness of her mother, and consoled by her gentle words, she -gradually returned to her ordinary state of feeling. From that day, -also, she laboured with increased diligence to overcome her faults, -and, with her mother's assistance, succeeded in obtaining an almost -complete self-control. But she became daily more thin and melancholy, -and at last the physician declared, that unless she had country air he -could not answer for her life. - -This was a terrible sentence for Madame Leroi, whose slender funds were -already well nigh exhausted in the purchase of the necessary remedies -for her daughter. Madame Thibourg, to whom she related her grief and -embarrassment, proposed that they should hire in common a small country -house at Saint Mandé, which she knew was to be let for six hundred -francs. "We shall easily," she said, "save the hundred crowns it will -cost us each, by the advantage of living in common." Madame Leroi, -however, knew very well that her expenses would be quite as heavy, to -say the least, in living with Madame Thibourg, who was better off, and -less economical, than herself; but, too happy to discover any practical -means of overcoming her difficulty, she trusted to make up for any -additional expense that might be necessary, by working harder, and now -only thought of procuring the hundred crowns, which it was necessary to -pay in advance, for the hire of the house. For this purpose she sold -her coverlet of eider-down, together with four beautiful engravings -which ornamented her room, and she made up the remainder of the sum, as -well as what was necessary for the expenses of the journey, with the -money destined for the purchase of a stove to be placed in the little -room where they usually took their meals, for as she would not admit -into her sitting-room anything likely to soil her work, and was very -sensitive to the cold, she was obliged in the winter to take her meals -in the kitchen, where the fumes of the charcoal frequently gave her -headaches, and pains in the chest. - -These arrangements, which could not be concealed from Marietta, -gave her great annoyance. She had become excessively sensitive on -all points, and notwithstanding her ardent desire to go into the -country, the sale of the coverlet of eider-down, which she knew to be -so necessary to her mother's comfort, threw her into such a fit of -despair, that Madame Leroi was obliged to remonstrate with her, even -with some degree of severity, in order to bring her to herself. "Do -you forget, Marietta," she said, "that it is your duty to endeavour -to regain your health and strength, in order that you may one day be -useful to me." - -This idea had a beneficial effect, by diverting her thoughts towards -other objects. She busied herself in preparations for their departure, -with an alacrity and zeal which revived a ray of joy and hope in her -mother's breast; and, indeed, scarcely were they beyond the barriers of -the city, than she seemed to regain new life; and at the end of a week, -after their arrival in the country, she was hardly to be recognized for -the same person, to such an extent had that thin and pallid form, which -before seemed ready to sink into the grave, regained the freshness -and vigour of health. Madame Leroi, her eyes filled with tears of -happiness, was never weary of looking at her; and the eyes of Marietta -constantly sought those of her mother, as if to confirm the hope that -gave her this happiness. With health returned the cheerfulness and -buoyancy natural to her years, accompanied by an energy of purpose -which enabled her to accomplish whatever she undertook. As her judgment -was remarkably developed, she employed the new powers, which she felt -rising within her, in the attainment of those acquirements of which -she stood in need, and of those qualities in which she was deficient. -The devoted tenderness of her mother had made upon her, especially of -late, an impression so profound, that she was tormented with the desire -of being able, in her turn, to consecrate to her all her faculties. -With this thought ever before her, she applied herself with a kind -of passion to regain, in her studies, the time she had lost through -her illness; and the pleasure of satisfying her mother was, besides, -the daily recompense of her efforts. Nevertheless, when the smiles -and words of Madame Leroi expressed this satisfaction, "It is all -very well, mamma," she would say, with a kind of impatience; "you are -pleased, but it is for my sake, and because you think the progress I -make is advantageous to me. When shall I be able to do something solely -for you?" - -"Patience!" replied her mother; smiling, "I promise you the time will -come." - -"May it come speedily, then!" continued Marietta, with an eager -sigh; and she applied herself to her labours with redoubled energy. -She also endeavoured, with great care, to regain the good opinion -of Madame Thibourg, which she had forfeited by the late display of -temper, of which that lady had been a witness; for young people know -not the injury they do themselves when they give way to their faults -in the presence of strangers, who can only judge of them by what they -casually see, and who, in consequence, often receive an impression very -unfavourable to them, and very difficult to be removed. At first Madame -Thibourg was prejudiced against her, and attributed to her faults -which she did not possess. Marietta was amazed at this, but her mother -explained to her the cause of the injustice. - -"Well, if she is unjust," said Marietta, with the natural pride of her -age, "so much the worse for her." - -"No, my child! so much the worse for you, since it is your fault -that has made her so. Had you not been the cause of this injustice, -by appearing before her in an unfavourable light, you need not have -troubled yourself about it, provided you bore it with gentleness; but -since you have caused it, you ought to endeavour to remove it." - -After a few outbursts of impetuosity, which her naturally hasty -disposition led her to indulge in, but which her good sense always -overcame in the end, she perceived the truth of her mother's words, -and strove so earnestly to watch her temper, that in a short time -she gained such a complete mastery over her feelings, that she could -barely be reproached with an occasional momentary irritability, which -a look or a word from her mother was always sufficient to repress. -Sometimes, even, Madame Leroi only cast down her eyes, when Marietta, -warned by this movement, instantly recollected herself, and with -charming grace and frankness hastened to repair the incipient fault; so -that in the opinion of Madame Thibourg, as well as in that of all who -knew her, Marietta, after a residence of some eight or nine months at -Saint-Mandé, was in every respect so completely changed for the better, -that she was scarcely to be recognised for the same person. At this -time she was nearly sixteen years of age. - -They returned to Paris at the commencement of the winter, Madame -Thibourg not wishing to pass it in the country, and the bad weather -rendering more inconvenient the journeys which Madame Leroi was obliged -to make to town to obtain or return work, especially as they had often -to be made on foot. These journeys, too fatiguing for her at all times, -had already injured her health; the winter, which was very severe, laid -her up completely. Marietta, persuaded that the loss of the coverlet -of eider-down contributed to her mother's sufferings, was sometimes -seized with a sort of feverish impatience, at seeing so long delayed -the time when she should be able to add to her comforts, and her only -consolation was to apply to her studies with redoubled energy. The -spring was cold and late; their provision of wood had come to an end. -Madame Leroi, who had been prevented by the state of her health from -working as much as she wished during the winter, and was not willing to -get into debt, pretended to be able to do without a fire; but Marietta, -who saw her suffering, wept with vexation and anxiety when, on opening -her window each morning, she found the weather as cold as on the -previous day. She would have been very glad if her mother would have -allowed her to assist her; but although she worked very fairly, Madame -Leroi, who did not wish her to waste her time in becoming a proficient -in this kind of work, was afraid to trust her, and always sent her -back to her studies, saying, "Never mind, Marietta, you will have time -enough to work for me by-and-by." - -One day, when Madame Leroi had been obliged to lie down on account of a -violent head-ache, an order came for a piece of tapestry, intended to -replace a similar piece of her execution, which the fall of a lamp had -covered with oil. The chair corresponding to the one spoiled was also -brought, in order that the latter might be covered exactly like it. -Marietta received the order, and promised that it should be executed -by the next week, as it was much wanted; and, trembling with a thought -which had just occurred to her, she carefully put away all the things -in a place where her mother could not find them. - -Madame Leroi, being asleep at the moment, had heard nothing of all -this. Marietta flew to the box where her mother kept her silks, and -with a transport of joy discovered, as she had expected, all that -was necessary for her undertaking. An old frame, which she had often -noticed, was removed from the attic, with the assistance of the -portress, who was taken into her confidence, and who lent her for her -work an empty room of which she had the key, and before Madame Leroi -awoke, the frame was set up, the chair placed in front of it, and -her needle threaded. The following morning as soon as it was light, -Marietta, awakened by her impatience, slipped away without any noise -and commenced her work. The two hours during which she usually walked -out with Madame Thibourg and her daughters, were consecrated to the -same labour, Marietta, however, merely informing them of her desire to -surprise her mother by an unexpected talent, and carefully avoiding -all allusion to the privations she was so anxious to save her, and of -which Madame Thibourg was to remain ignorant. For the first few days, -the harp suffered somewhat from Marietta's preoccupation, for while -repeating her difficult passages, she thought only of the assortment of -her silks, but at last she triumphed over her difficulties. As it was -only necessary to copy, and as Marietta, like all persevering persons, -possessed that love of excellence which is not to be repelled by any -difficulty, her first attempt was completely successful, and on the -seventh day, the portress, Madame Thibourg and her daughters, assembled -in consultation, decided that the copy could not be distinguished from -the original. The portress was immediately commissioned to take home -the work, and to receive its price, which was destined for the purchase -of half-a-load of wood. - -The following morning, while Madame Leroi was still in bed, Marietta, -who that day felt inexpressible joy that the weather was even colder -than usual, noiselessly arranged the wood in the fire-place, whilst -the portress, almost as pleased as herself, brought a large pan of -burning charcoal. Madame Leroi, awakened by the crackling of the flame, -inquired what it was, and scolded Marietta for having, as she imagined, -bought a faggot. "A faggot indeed!" exclaimed the portress, proudly. -"Come into your kitchen, Madame Leroi, and see whether there are any -faggots of that kind;" and Marietta, opening her mother's curtains, -displayed to her a fire such as she had not seen for two months before; -then, without answering her questions, she threw a dress over her -mother's shoulders, and made her accompany her into the kitchen, where -the kind portress had already arranged the half-load of wood. She -then led her back to the fire-side, and, in a voice broken by joyful -emotions, related to her what she had done. - -"Dear child!" said her mother, placing her hand on her shoulder. She -could say no more. Marietta took her hand, and, with an earnest and -animated voice, said, "Dear mamma, now, at last, it is I who belong to -you." - -"Yes, my child," said Madame Leroi, with deep emotion, "I take -possession. Your time has come, Marietta; it is now your turn to devote -yourself to your mother." And Marietta, kneeling before her, kissed her -hands in a delirium of joy impossible to be described. - -From that day, she assisted her mother without encroaching on her other -studies; her strength and activity were equal to everything, for their -source lay in an inexhaustible affection. At the age of eighteen, she -was in a condition to give lessons; indeed, for some time previously, -she had exercised herself successfully in teaching Madame Thibourg's -youngest daughter. Her first regular pupils were in a ladies' school, -but by degrees her connexions extended, and she taught in private -families of respectability. At the beginning, the portress accompanied -her to her pupils, and also went for her; but in time, her great -prudence, her modesty, and the reserved and somewhat distant deportment -which the consciousness of her position induced, satisfied Madame Leroi -that she might go alone without any inconvenience, an arrangement which -permitted her to take more pupils. She was soon able to earn sufficient -to cover their household expenses, and when on her return home she -found her mother a little fatigued, she would take the work out of her -hands, saying, "Since it is now my turn to work for you, you must obey -my wishes." The health of Madame Leroi grew daily worse. "It is all the -same to me," she would sometimes say. "Marietta has to keep well for -me;" and at such moments Marietta, with indescribable joy, felt rising -within her the consciousness of her youth and vigour. - -An advantageous offer of marriage was made to her, but it was a -marriage which would have separated her from her mother, deprived her -of the pleasure of working for her, and deprived Madame Leroi of the -interest and happiness which she experienced in the society of her -daughter. Fortunately, the subject was first broached to Marietta -herself, who begged that nothing might be said about it to her mother, -as she felt persuaded that Madame Leroi would not consent to the -rejection of such an offer. Having given her refusal, she then informed -her mother of what she had done, and, seeing her deeply grieved, and -indeed, almost angry, she knelt before her, and said with affectionate -earnestness, "My dear mother, there is but one privilege in the world -which I have to beg of you, and that is, that you will let me continue -to belong to you." - -"Go! Marietta," replied her mother, with a sigh; "be happy in your own -way;" nevertheless, the remembrance of this sacrifice long continued to -pain her. - -Some time afterwards, mention was made, in Marietta's presence, of an -officer whose wounds had compelled him to retire from the service, -though still under thirty years of age. His left arm had been shot -off, his right leg broken, and although it had been set, it left him -lame, and caused him a great deal of pain. Such an accumulation of -evils had destroyed the natural attractions of his person. Resigned, -but melancholy at seeing his career so early closed, he devoted himself -to solitude, and even refused to marry, considering as he said, that -he was but a poor present to offer to a woman. Marietta, whose cast of -thought rendered her susceptible to every generous sentiment, replied -with vivacity, "That for all that, to entrust to a woman's keeping -the entire happiness of her husband, was to make her a very noble -present." These words were repeated to M. de Luxeuil, the officer in -question, and the remarks added, relative to the character of Marietta, -made him curious to learn more about her. On hearing that she had -consecrated her life to the happiness of her mother, it occurred to -him that to aid her in this task would be a means of obtaining her -gratitude and affection. The person who had spoken of her, and who had -not done so without design, penetrated his thoughts, and took care to -encourage them, and in fact, managed so well, that from first feeling -a pleasure in hearing of Marietta, he began to wish that Marietta -should also hear of him, and at last ended by believing that it might -not be impossible for him to render her happy. In short, the proposal -was made, and accepted with mingled feelings of joy and gratitude, -and immediately after his marriage, M. de Luxeuil conducted his wife -and mother-in-law to his country residence, situated about thirty -leagues from Paris. On arriving, he immediately led Madame Leroi to -the apartment destined for her use, and Marietta's first movement, on -entering it, was to give a look of grateful affection to her husband, -for all the care he had taken to render it convenient and pleasant. -The remainder of the house was visited with feelings of gratitude, -which every moment became more intense. In the drawing-room, in the -dining-room, the place reserved for Madame Leroi's easy chair was -always the one most likely to be agreeable to her. The greatest care -had been taken that in all the details of their daily life, every thing -should be conformable to her health, her tastes, and her habits. "My -friends!" she said, with emotion, to her son-in-law and daughter, "I -see that you have already talked a great deal about me." - -Marietta was truly happy, and for M. de Luxeuil commenced a felicity -such as he had never hoped for, nor even thought of. It has but -increased with time. Formed by their mutual virtues for a union which -every day renders more intimate, and constantly more grateful for the -happiness they mutually bestow, they have arrived at that point of -felicity which leaves no pain, beyond the fear of its being disturbed. -As for Madame Leroi, she is scarcely able to bear the twofold affection -of which she is the object. "Let me alone!" she sometimes says, -playfully, "How can you expect me to bear two happinesses at once?" - - - - -THE DIFFICULT DUTY. - -MORAL DOUBTS. - - -Monsieur de Flaumont one day said to his children:--"I am going to -relate to you a circumstance which has come to my knowledge, in order -that you may give me your opinion on it." - -Henry, Clementine, and Gustavus hastened to take their seats near him, -when he related what follows:-- - -"A workman named Paul, the father of several children, who were -dependent on his industry, was walking by the side of a very rapid -river, then greatly swollen by recent rains. The water formed a -whirlpool under one of the arches of a neighbouring bridge, and drew -into it, with a great deal of noise, the remains of a boat laden -with planks, which it had already dashed to pieces. Paul gazed upon -the torrent and thought, 'If I were to fall into it, I should have -some difficulty in getting out again.' Yet Paul was an excellent -swimmer, and had even saved the lives of several persons who had been -near drowning in that very river; but at that moment the danger was -so great, that in spite of his natural courage, he felt there was -sufficient cause for fear. Then his thoughts reverted to his children, -who were entirely dependent upon him for support: to his eldest boy, a -lad of some twelve years of age, who promised to be a good workman, -but who, if deprived of his father, would have no one to instruct or -protect him. He thought of his daughter, whom he hoped soon to be able -to apprentice out, and of his little one just weaned, whom his sister -took care of, for the children had lost their mother. It was delightful -to him to reflect how neat and clean they were kept; how well fed -they were, and what good health they enjoyed; and he said, 'All this -would be greatly changed were I taken home dead!' and, so saying, he -involuntarily withdrew from the river's edge, as if there were really -some danger of his being dragged into the water. As he walked on, he -observed upon the bridge a man bearing on his shoulders a bundle of old -iron rails. He was looking into the water, and watching a plank on the -point of passing under the bridge. He bent over to see if it cleared -the arch well, but, leaning too far, his head turned giddy, the load -on his shoulders threw him off his balance, and he was precipitated -into the water, uttering a fearful cry. Paul also uttered a cry of -distress, for he felt himself chained to the shore by the remembrance -of his children, while his kind feelings made him anxious to aid the -unfortunate being whom he beheld on the brink of destruction. He -looked around him with inexpressible anguish, and perceiving a long -pole, he seized hold of it, and endeavoured, by advancing into the -water, without losing his footing, to push a plank to the unfortunate -man, who was trying to swim towards him. But all in vain; the torrent -was furious, and after a few efforts, the poor wretch sank, rose -again to the surface, and then disappeared altogether. Paul remained -motionless at the side of the river, with his eyes fixed on the spot -where the miserable man had been engulfed. He continued there until -it became quite dark, then returned home, a prey to the most intense -melancholy, but still saying to himself, 'I do not think I have done -wrong.' For several days he refused food; sleep fled from his eyes, -and he scarcely spoke to any one. His neighbours, seeing him in this -condition, inquired the cause, and he told them. The greater part -considered that he had done right, some few were of a contrary opinion, -but he himself always said, 'Still, I do not think I have acted -wrong.'--What is your opinion, my children?" - -CLEMENTINE.--Certainly, he did quite right, to preserve his life for -the sake of his children. - -HENRY.--Oh! yes! that is a most convenient excuse for not doing one's -duty. - -GUSTAVUS.--But he owed nothing to this man who was so clumsy as to fall -into the water: he did not even know him. - -HENRY.--Papa has always told us that we ought to do all the good we can -to our fellow-creatures; and Paul might at least have tried to save the -poor man: he was not sure of perishing with him. - -CLEMENTINE.--Oh! but it was very likely. - -HENRY.--There would be great merit, certainly, in doing courageous -deeds, if we were quite sure there was no danger in them! - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--But, consider my boy, that by exposing himself to the -danger, which was very great, and in which he would in all probability -have perished, he also exposed his children to the risk of dying of -hunger, or of becoming rogues, for the want of an honest means of -obtaining a living. Do you not think this a consideration of sufficient -importance to counterbalance the desire he felt to save the drowning -man? - -HENRY.--Perhaps so, papa,--but it is nevertheless certain, that we hold -a man who courageously exposes his life to save a fellow-being in far -higher estimation than we do one who so carefully calculates all the -reasons that can be found for not doing so. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That is quite natural: the courage of the man who -performs a brave deed is self-evident; whereas, we cannot be so sure -of the motives of him who refuses to perform one. But, supposing it -to be clearly proved that Paul really wished to throw himself into the -water to save this man, and was only withheld by the interests of his -children, do you not think he merited esteem rather than reproach? - -HENRY.--One thing, at least, is certain: I should not have liked to be -in his position. - -CLEMENTINE.--It would certainly be a most difficult matter to know what -to do. - -GUSTAVUS.--Well, and while you were reflecting, the poor man would be -still in the water; and so it would come to the same thing. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Hesitation is undoubtedly the very thing that should -be most avoided in such a case, for it prevents all action; and for -this reason it is that we ought to accustom ourselves to reflect upon -the relative importance of our duties, in order to know which of them -ought to take precedence. - -HENRY.--But when there happen to be two of equal importance? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That can never be the case; for we are never called -upon to do impossibilities. Do you think, for example, that Paul could -at one and the same moment, throw himself into the water, and _not_ -throw himself into it? - -GUSTAVUS, _laughing_.--That would, indeed, be an impossibility. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Do you think, then, that he could be obliged to -perform an action, and at the same time to do what would render that -action impossible? - -HENRY.--Certainly not. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--It is, then, quite evident, that if it was his duty -to perform one of these actions, he ought to have put aside everything -calculated to interfere with it; even what would be a duty under other -circumstances. - -CLEMENTINE.--And you think, papa, do you not, that the duty of -providing for one's children ought to take precedence of every other? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--No, not of every other, certainly. The first of all -duties is to be an honest man, to do no wrong to any one, never to -betray the interest committed to one's charge. - -CLEMENTINE.--But the interests of one's children are surely committed -to one's charge. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--But we are first of all responsible for the interests -of our own probity, for no one can be charged with these but ourselves. -The first thing prescribed to us is, not to be unjust to others; but we -are not necessarily unjust to them when we do not render them all the -assistance they require; and though the drowning man stood in need of -Paul's assistance, it was not an injustice in him to withhold it, for -the sake of his children. - -HENRY.--Because his children had need of it also. But, papa, according -to this argument, neither would it have been an injustice not to do for -his children all the good they stood in need of; for he was not more -necessary to them than he was to the drowning man, who had no one but -him to look to for assistance. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Certainly not; but do you think it possible to do good -to every one? - -GUSTAVUS.--To do that, we should have to pass our days in running about -the streets, in order to assist all the poor. - -CLEMENTINE.--Or even wander over the earth to discover those who might -require our aid, and spend our whole fortunes in doing so. - -HENRY.--This, certainly, is a point which has often puzzled me. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--It is because you have not considered that each -man, forming but a very small portion of the world, can be specially -trusted with only a very small portion of the good to be done in it. -Were it otherwise, it would be impossible to do any good at all; -for if every one wanted to do everything, there would be nothing but -confusion. Each one must therefore endeavour to discover for himself -what is the portion of good he is naturally expected to do. Thus, even -if it were not a duty of justice to make the existence and well-being -of our children our first care, still it would be a duty of reason, -since it would be absurd to neglect the good we might accomplish in -our own homes, for the sake of going elsewhere to do good. This duty, -therefore, we must first of all fulfil, and afterwards consider what -means are left for the accomplishment of any others which may present -themselves; such as kindness and devotion towards those who have no -other claim upon us, than that of standing in need of our aid. - -HENRY.--Notwithstanding all that, papa, I shall always find it -difficult to understand, that because a man has children who require -his protection, he must therefore give up the idea of assisting others -if, by so doing, he exposes himself to danger. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--You are right not to understand it, for it is not -true. We can, and we certainly ought, even in that case, to expose -ourselves to a moderate danger for the sake of a great good. Thus, for -example, if the river had been tranquil, or even had there been only a -considerable probability of escape, Paul would have done wrong not to -throw himself into the water. - -CLEMENTINE.--But, papa, since he might still have perished, he would -still have exposed himself to the danger of failing in his duty towards -his children. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Undoubtedly; but would he not also incur great risk -of losing an opportunity of saving a fellow-being, when, to all -appearance, he might have done so without injuring his children? - -CLEMENTINE.--Yes; and now the case becomes again embarrassing. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--It is under such circumstances that duties may be -compared and weighed one against the other. But if you were assured, -that by exposing your children to some slight inconvenience,--such, for -example, as being worse fed or clothed for a time,--you would thereby -save the life of another, do you not think that you ought to do so? - -CLEMENTINE.--Certainly. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Impossible as it is for us to discover what will -be the result of things subjected to chance, we ought I think to -lean to that side which seems to offer the greatest probability of -producing the greatest good, and to regard a slight danger as a slight -inconvenience, to which we subject our children in order to secure to -another a very great advantage. Are you satisfied, Henry? - -HENRY.--Well, papa, I shall try to become very expert, so that the -danger may always be slight. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That is quite right; but now let me conclude my story. - -CLEMENTINE.--What! is it not finished? - -GUSTAVUS.--Oh, go on, then, papa. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Paul, as I have already told you, had the utmost -difficulty in overcoming his distress. He sometimes said to himself, -"The river was not so very much swollen; I took fright too easily; -we might both have escaped;" and he had not the courage to return to -the side of that river,--he preferred making wide circuits in order -to avoid going near it. He often heard of persons being drowned while -bathing in this river, a thing by no means unusual; for those who did -not know it well, imprudently ventured too near the whirlpool under the -arch, and were ingulfed. At these times, Paul's conscience smote him, -and he felt almost degraded. But what was most singular was, that his -last adventure had given him a dread of the water--he who had hitherto -been so courageous; but he constantly thought, "It would be a terrible -thing, if, now that I have done so much for my children, I were to be -taken away from them;" and thus he avoided every danger with extreme -care. He scarcely seemed to be the same man, so timid and cautious had -he become. His neighbours said among themselves, "How extraordinary! -Paul has become a coward!" and they imagined that it was from fear -that he had not plunged into the water. In other respects, he was more -industrious than ever, and lost no opportunity of putting his children -in a condition to earn their own living, as if he was afraid of dying -before the completion of his task. He succeeded in bringing them up -remarkably well. His eldest son became a clever workman, and was about -to marry and establish himself in another town; his daughter became the -wife of a shopkeeper with a good trade; and the schoolmaster of the -town, who became attached to the youngest boy, because he was diligent -in his studies, requested his father to allow him, when fifteen years -of age, to aid him in the duties of his school, and promised, if he -conducted himself well, to give it up to him in the course of a few -years. - -The day on which Paul had established his son with the schoolmaster, -and on which he could consequently say that his children no longer -stood in need of his assistance, that they would no longer be exposed -to misery if he were taken from them, he felt his mind relieved from a -heavy burden, and in the joy which he experienced, he seemed to have -recovered all the courage which for twelve years had deserted him; for -twelve years had now elapsed since the occurrence of the accident which -had rendered him so unhappy. He left his work at an earlier hour than -usual, and went for a solitary ramble. For the first time these twelve -years he directed his steps towards the river, recalling to mind the -different persons whom he had saved from it, before the fatal day which -had deprived him of his daring. It was an autumn evening; the weather -was dull and cold; the river, swollen by the rains, was agitated by a -violent wind, and appeared in much the same condition as when he had -last beheld it. He approached, and considered it attentively. "The -river is much swollen," he said; "nevertheless, if I were to throw -myself into it to-day, I am sure I should escape;" and he said this -because, having no longer the dread of failing in his duty to his -children, he did not think of the danger, but only of the means of -overcoming it. On raising his eyes mechanically towards the bridge, -to the spot whence he had seen the poor man whom he had been unable -to aid, fall, he saw, as it was not yet dark, some one approach the -parapet, who appeared to him a very young man. This young man stood -gazing at the water for some time, and all the while Paul kept his eye -fixed upon him. At last, seeing him climb the parapet, and observing -him totter, he cried out, "You will fall," but at the same moment the -young man took a spring and dashed into the water. Paul, as if he had a -presentiment of what would happen, had already his hand upon his coat; -he tore it off, dashed it from him, and was in the river almost as soon -as the young man, and, swimming towards the spot where he had seen him -fall, he endeavoured to catch him before he reached the whirlpool, -where he knew they must both perish. He reached him while he was still -struggling under the water: he plunged; but by a movement natural to -those who are drowning, even when they drown themselves intentionally, -the young man seized hold of him, grasping his legs so tightly, that -he prevented his swimming. They must both have perished, had not Paul -happily succeeded in disengaging one of his legs, with which he gave -the other such a violent kick, that he was forced to relax his hold. -Paul then seized him by the hair, and remounted to the surface of the -water. The young man was insensible, but Paul dragged him on while -swimming with one hand. At that moment the wind was terrible, and with -it was mingled a violent rain, which intercepted his sight. The wind -and the current of the river hurried them towards the whirlpool. He -redoubled his efforts: he felt animated by an extraordinary vigour. At -last, he succeeded in escaping the danger, reached the bank, landed, -and they were saved. - -[Illustration: The Difficult Duty, p. 148.] - -The young man was like one dead, but Paul, who had saved many persons -from a watery grave, knew what were the means to be adopted in order -to restore him to life. He carried him to the foot of a large tree, -the dense foliage of which sheltered them from the rain, and rendered -him every assistance which the circumstances permitted. He succeeded -in restoring him in some degree, and the moment he heard him breathe, -he placed him on his shoulders, and bore him with all possible speed -to his own house, where, by dint of care, the young man completely -recovered his senses. He was about seventeen years of age, and seemed -wasted away by want and illness. As soon as he was able to speak, Paul -asked him what had induced him to throw himself into the river. The -young man, who was named André, replied that it was want and despair. -He stated, that twelve years before, his father, who was a travelling -blacksmith, had been drowned by accident, as it was supposed, in that -same river, his body having been discovered there some days after. -Paul shuddered while he listened to this recital, but said nothing. -André went on to state that up to the age of ten, he had lived with his -mother, who provided for him as well as she could by her labour, but -that, having lost her, he endeavoured to gain a living for himself by -working whenever he could find employment. Sometimes at the harvest, -sometimes at the barns, sometimes in assisting the masons; that he had -endured great hardships, and often wanted food; that, at last, he had -fallen ill, and on leaving the hospital, while still convalescent, -having neither home, nor money, nor employment, he had been obliged to -sleep in the fields, and to pass two whole days without food, so that -he felt completely exhausted; that finally, towards the close of -the second day, happening to be upon the bridge, from which it was said -that his father had fallen, and, feeling unable to proceed farther, -and impelled by despair, he had thrown himself into the water. While -listening to this recital, Paul mentally exclaimed, "Since I have saved -this man, I might have saved the other also;" but then he thought, -"We might both have perished, and then my children would have been as -destitute as André." He was greatly rejoiced at having been able to -save André, and determined, after this new trial of his strength, never -again to fear the water nor the swelling of the river, especially now -that he was no longer necessary to his children. - -However, he could not carry his good resolutions into effect, for the -following day he was seized with a violent fever, accompanied by severe -pains in all his limbs. On coming out of the river, intent only on -restoring André, he had not been able to dry himself, and, indeed, he -had not even thought of doing so; thus the damp clothes he had kept -so long about him had brought on an attack of rheumatic gout. For the -next two days he grew worse and worse, and his life was despaired of. -He had moments of delirium, during which he was tormented by anxiety -for his children, but when his senses returned he remembered that they -were well provided for, and appeared truly happy. Notwithstanding his -sufferings, André, who gradually regained his strength, tended him -with the greatest assiduity, and wept beside his bed when he beheld -him getting worse. Paul did not die; but he continued subject to -pains, which sometimes entirely deprived him of the use of his limbs. -"Ah!" he would sometimes exclaim, when a sharp pain shot through an -arm or a leg; "if I had become like this before I had provided for my -children!" André, whom he had kept with him, and who was intelligent -and well-disposed, learned his trade sufficiently to assist him when he -was able to work, and to work under his direction when he was ill. The -shop continued to prosper, and his business was even increased by the -interest taken both in himself and André, and when speaking of André's -father, he would say, "Poor fellow! may God receive his soul; but I am -sure he has forgiven me, for he has seen that I could not have acted -otherwise." - -M. de Flaumont ceased, and the children waited for a moment in silence, -to see if the story was ended. - -"Oh!" said Henry, at length, with a heavy sigh, "I am glad the story -has ended thus." - -CLEMENTINE.--Yes! but think of poor Paul remaining a martyr to -rheumatism! - -GUSTAVUS.--Most assuredly his good action was not too well rewarded. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--He received such a reward as ought to be expected -for a good action--the consciousness of having done well. This is its -natural recompense, and this recompense is quite independent of the -consequences which may otherwise result from it. - -CLEMENTINE.--Nevertheless, it is painful to see an honest man suffering -from having performed a good action. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--But it would have been far more painful if he had done -wrong. Would you have preferred his leaving André to perish? - -CLEMENTINE.--Oh! certainly not. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--It was even possible that Paul might have died. Even -in that case, could one have regretted his exposing his life to save -André? - -HENRY (_with animation_).--No, certainly not: that could not be -regretted. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That proves to you that the reward, as I have said, -is quite independent of the consequences. Thus, for instance, if a -workman had executed a piece of work for a person who refused to pay -him: you would regret that he had done the work, because the payment is -the natural recompense of his toil; whereas, you would never think of -regretting that a man had performed a generous action, even though it -turned out badly for him, because you would feel that he was rewarded -by the action itself. - -After all, my children, added M. de Flaumont, do not think that virtue -is always so difficult. Our true duties are usually placed within our -reach, so that they may be performed without much effort; still, as -cases may arise in which effort is necessary, we ought to be prepared -with means of supporting those efforts. We ought to accustom ourselves -to consider duty as being quite as indispensable when it is difficult -as when it is easy; and we ought, also, to have our minds so prepared, -that we shall not magnify difficulties to such a degree as to render -them insurmountable. Thus, we should not exaggerate the importance -of any one duty, as we shall thereby be led to neglect others; but, -after having fully persuaded ourselves that it is impossible there -can exist at one and the same time two contradictory duties, let us, -in cases of difficulty, lean to that which seems the most important, -and, while regretting our inability to do all that we could wish, let -us not regard as a duty that which another duty has prevented us from -performing. - - - - -MORAL DOUBTS. - - -FIRST DIALOGUE. - - _M. de Flaumont_; _Henry_, _Gustavus_, _and Clementine_, - _his Children_. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Children, would you like me to relate to you two -stories, which I have just been reading in a foreign newspaper? - -THE CHILDREN.--Oh! yes, papa! are they very long? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--No! but you may perhaps be puzzled to give me your -opinion on them. - -THE CHILDREN.--How do you mean, papa? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--You will see, here is the first:-- - -An English stage-coach, filled with passengers, was proceeding towards -a large town. The conversation of the travellers turned upon the -highwaymen by whom the road was infested, and who frequently stopped -and searched travellers. They debated amongst themselves as to the -best means of preserving their money; each boasted of having taken his -measures, and being quite safe. - -An imprudent young woman, wishing, doubtless, to display her superior -cleverness, and forgetting that frankness, in such circumstances, is -very ill-placed, said, "As for me, I carry all my wealth about me in a -bank note for two hundred pounds, but I have so well concealed it, that -the robbers will certainly never be able to find it, for it is in my -shoe, under my stocking." - -A few minutes after they were attacked by highwaymen, who demanded -their purses, but, discontented with the little they found in them, -they declared, in menacing tones, that they would search and ill-treat -them unless they immediately gave them a hundred pounds; and they -seemed prepared to put their threats into execution. - -"You will easily find twice that sum," said an old man seated at the -back of the coach, who during the whole journey had remained entirely -silent, or had spoken only in monosyllables, "if you make that lady -take off her shoes and stockings." - -The robbers followed this advice, took the banknote, and departed. - -What think you of the old man? - -CLEMENTINE.--Oh, papa! what villany! - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--All the travellers were of your opinion. They loaded -him with reproach and insult, and even threatened to throw him out of -the coach. The young woman's grief exceeded description. The old man -appeared insensible to these insults and menaces, and once only excused -himself by saying, "Every one must think of himself first." - -In the evening, when the coach reached its destination, the old man -contrived to make his escape before his fellow-passengers had an -opportunity of visiting their displeasure upon him. The young woman -passed a frightful night. What was her surprise on the following -morning, when a sum of four hundred pounds was placed in her hands, -together with a magnificent comb, and the following letter:-- - -"Madam,--The man whom, yesterday, you detested with reason, returns -to you the sum you have lost, with interest which makes it double, -together with a comb nearly equal in value. I am exceedingly distressed -at the grief I was compelled to cause you. A few words will explain -my conduct. I have just returned from India, where I have passed ten -weary years. I have gained by my industry thirty thousand pounds, and -the whole of this sum I had yesterday about me in bank-notes. Had I -been searched with the rigour with which we were threatened, I must -have lost everything. What was I to do? I could not run the risk of -having to return to India with empty hands. Your frankness furnished me -with the means of escaping the difficulty. Therefore I entreat you to -think nothing of this trifling present, and to believe me henceforth -devotedly, Yours." - -GUSTAVUS.--Well, papa, the young woman had no longer any reason to -complain, and the old man did not do wrong, since he returned much more -than she lost. - -CLEMENTINE.--Yes; but in her place I would much rather have been -without the comb, and not have had to take off my shoes and stockings -in the presence of highwaymen. - -GUSTAVUS.--Oh! that did not do her much harm. - -HENRY.--But, papa, if the robbers, notwithstanding their promise, had -searched every one, and had taken his thirty thousand pounds away from -the old man, it would have been out of his power to restore the two -hundred pounds to the young woman, and yet it would have been through -his means that she would have lost them. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Henry is right: the injury inflicted by the old man -was certain, while he had no certainty of being able to repair it. - -HENRY.--Assuredly the word of a robber is not to be depended on. - -GUSTAVUS.--But still it was certain that had he not acted as he did, -they would have taken his thirty thousand pounds. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That is true; but do you think, my dear Gustavus, -that, in order to escape some great calamity ourselves, we have a right -to inflict an equally serious injury on another? for the loss of the -two hundred pounds was as great a calamity to the young woman as that -of the thirty thousand would have been to the old man, since it was the -whole of her wealth. - -GUSTAVUS.--Yes, papa; but he knew very well he would return them. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--He wished to do so, no doubt; but Henry has shown -you how he might have failed in the accomplishment of his wishes. -Other accidents might also have prevented him. He might have lost his -pocket-book by the way: he might have died suddenly, &c. - -CLEMENTINE.--Oh yes, indeed; and then the young woman would neither -have had her own two hundred pounds, nor the two hundred pounds -additional, nor her beautiful comb. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--He thus surrendered his honesty, and the fate of his -fellow-traveller, to the chance of a future, always uncertain, and -all this to spare himself a misfortune, very great, no doubt, but the -certainty of which gave him no right to injure another. Here lies -the difference between prudence and virtue. Prudence commences by -studying how to escape a difficulty, and thinks it has done enough -when it has promised itself to repair the injury inflicted on another. -Virtue does not content itself with the hope of repairing this wrong at -some future day: it does not commit it; and thus, though it is often -more unfortunate, it is always more tranquil. So that virtue alone -has no occasion to dread the future. It is in doing evil, even with -the idea of its resulting in good, or with the firm determination of -repairing it, that men often plunge into difficulties and errors, from -which they are afterwards unable to extricate themselves. No one can -flatter himself, however prudent he may be, that he has foreseen all -chances, and so managed matters that nothing can turn out wrong; while, -by laying it down as a law to ourselves to be virtuous before all -things, we are certain of never having to reproach ourselves with any -intentional wrong. - -GUSTAVUS.--But, papa, what ought to be done in such a case? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--I cannot pretend to say; all I know is, that we ought -not to do what our old man did. You will one day perceive how many -misfortunes happen in the world from the false idea, so frequently -entertained by men, that they are able to direct events according -to their own wishes: they regulate their conduct with this hope, -and afterwards events multiply, become involved, and turn out in so -unforeseen a manner, that they behold their projects often, and their -virtue always, wrecked beyond the possibility of recovery. Whereas, -on the contrary, we ought first of all to make sure of our virtue, -and then take all the advantage we can of circumstances. Besides, who -knows all the resources that may be discovered, by a man resolutely -determined to do nothing which his conscience disapproves? It is very -convenient, no doubt, to take the first resource which presents itself -to the mind; but can we be sure that it is the only one to be found, -and that, by giving ourselves a little additional trouble, we might not -discover another equally efficacious and more honest. Let us, after -remaining firm in virtue, be ingenious and energetic, and we shall -almost always be able to extricate ourselves from our difficulties. If -all who are ruined were to turn robbers, they would doubtless adopt -the most easy and expeditious mode of repairing their fortunes, still -this is a mode which honest people do not take; and, being compelled to -seek other resources, they rarely fail to discover them. I do not, at -this moment, very well see what plan our old man might have hit upon to -save his thirty thousand pounds; but, perhaps, if he had not so hastily -adopted the idea of denouncing the young woman, some other and better -expedient might have suggested itself. - -GUSTAVUS.--I agree with you, papa; but you promised us another story. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Here it is. You will see, that if we ought not to do a -wrong because we can never be sure of being able to repair it, neither -must we do wrong with a good intention. - -An English nobleman was journeying to one of his estates, when he was -attacked in a wood by six highwaymen; two of them seized the coachman, -two others the footmen, and the remaining two, placing themselves at -the doors of the carriage, presented each a pistol to his breast. - -"Your pocket-book, my lord," said one of the robbers, who had a most -repulsive expression of countenance. - -The nobleman took a rather weighty purse from his pocket, and handed -it to him. The man examined its contents, but did not seem satisfied. -"Your pocket-book, if you please, my lord," and he cocked his pistol. - -The nobleman quietly gave up his pocket-book. The highwayman opened -it; and during this time the nobleman examined his countenance. Never -had he beheld eyes so small and piercing, a nose so long, cheeks so -hollow, a mouth so wide, nor a chin so prominent. - -The robber took some papers from the pocket-book, and then returned -it. "A pleasant journey, my lord;" and he set off rapidly with his -companions. - -On reaching home the nobleman examined his pocket-book, to see what -had been taken from it, and found that bank notes to the amount of two -thousand five hundred pounds had been extracted, and that five hundred -pounds had been left. He congratulated himself on this, and said to his -friends, that he would willingly give a hundred pounds could they but -have seen the fellow. Never had highwayman a countenance so suited to -his calling. - -The nobleman soon forgot his loss, and thought no more of the -occurrence; when, some years afterwards, he received the following -letter:-- - -"MY LORD,--I am a poor Jew. The prince in whose dominions I lived -robbed us of everything. I went to England, accompanied by five other -Jews, that I might at least save my life. I fell ill at sea; and the -vessel in which we sailed was wrecked near the coast. - -"A man wholly unknown to me was upon the shore: he leaped into the -water, and saved me at the peril of his life. This was not all; he -led me to his house, called in a physician, and took care of me until -I was cured; and asked nothing in return. This man was a woollen -manufacturer, who had twelve children. Some time afterwards, I found -him very sad. The disturbances in America had just broken out, and the -American merchants with whom he traded were base enough to profit by -this circumstance, and refused to pay him. 'In a month,' he said to me, -'I shall be completely ruined; for I have bills coming due which I am -wholly unable to meet.' - -"His grief threw me into despair: I formed a desperate resolution. 'I -owe my life to him,' I said, 'and I will sacrifice it for him.' With -the five Jews who had followed me to England, I placed myself upon -the highway. You know what happened. I sent to the man of whom I have -spoken the money I took from you, and saved him for that time. But his -creditors never paid him; and about a week ago he died, without having -discharged all his debts. - -"The same day I gained four thousand pounds in the lottery. I return -to you all I took from you, with interest. Forward the remaining -thousand pounds to the unfortunate family of the manufacturer (he gave -their address at the end of the letter), and make inquiries of them -respecting a poor Jew, whom they so generously saved and entertained. - -"P.S.--I solemnly declare that, when we attacked you, not one of our -pistols was charged, and that we had no intention of drawing a cutlass -from its scabbard. - -"Spare yourself all search. When this letter reaches you I shall again -be upon the ocean. May God preserve you." - -The nobleman made inquiries, and found that the Jew's account was -strictly true. From that time forward he took the family of the -manufacturer under his protection. He frequently said, "I would give -a hundred pounds to any one who would inform me of the death of my -terrible Jew; and a thousand pounds to any one who should bring him to -me alive." - -HENRY.--But why did he wish for his death, papa? - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Because this Jew was a very dangerous person. A man -capable of doing such things, even from generous motives, is always -to be dreaded. The safety and happiness of society depend upon the -submission and respect due to the laws, which maintain order, and -preserve the persons and property of all. The laws cannot take into -account the motives which induce a man to injure another in person or -property. In such cases they can only judge and punish the act itself. -If this nobleman had been a judge, and the Jew had been brought before -his tribunal, he could not, even when all the facts of the case were -before him, have avoided condemning him to the penalty prescribed by -the law, though he might afterwards have endeavoured to obtain his -pardon from the sovereign. - -GUSTAVUS.--The Jew, however, had not loaded his pistols: he did not -intend to commit murder. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Consequently, he would have been sentenced to a -punishment less severe than that inflicted upon murderers; but still he -committed robbery. - -CLEMENTINE.--Yes; but it was to save the life of his benefactor: he -exposed his own from gratitude; this was assuredly a great sacrifice. -He would not have robbed from any other motive. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--Therefore this Jew was doubtless susceptible of very -generous sentiments and of noble devotion; this ought to count for much -in the opinion we form of him: it would probably have obtained for him -his pardon, or at least a great mitigation of his punishment; but, -in a moral point of view, and for the interests of society, justice -and firmness of principle are still more necessary than generosity of -sentiment. It would be impossible to allow every man the privilege -of making use of whatever means he pleased to gratify his feelings -and display his generosity. Even virtue itself is subject to laws, -whose wisdom is recognised and whose advantages are unquestionable. -These prescribe the route in which it must exercise itself, and the -bounds which it must not overleap. Thus, in the conduct of our Jew, -everything which preceded and followed his act, and some of the -circumstances of the act itself, were praiseworthy; his sole object -was to preserve his benefactor: he took only what was required for -that purpose: he kept nothing for himself, he scrupulously repaid the -sum with interest, he did not even reserve any portion of the prize -gained in the lottery, since, after having returned to the nobleman the -two thousand five hundred pounds and interest, he gave the remainder -to the manufacturer's children. All this was very well, and very -disinterested, but it does not prevent the action itself from being -blameable. And this is what often happens, when we allow ourselves -to be governed by our feelings, however good they may be, instead of -regulating our conduct by steady principles, which, though they may -sometimes restrain the feelings, always insure virtue. - -HENRY.--Still, papa, the nobleman promised more to him who should bring -him the Jew alive, than to him who should inform him of his death. - -M. DE FLAUMONT.--That was because he knew that a man capable of such -generous sentiments and remarkable devotion was one who, to be rendered -altogether virtuous, only required firmer principles, and a less -embarrassing position. He doubtless wished to make him feel, that if it -be noble to sacrifice one's life for gratitude, that sacrifice ought -never to be made at the expense of honesty; perhaps, too, he wished -to take him into his service, to place him in easy circumstances, to -remove him, in fact, out of the way of those temptations in which -generosity of feeling so easily deceives us in regard to the true -nature of our duties. Generosity may carry us farther than mere duty; -but it should always go in a right line, and never lead us to neglect -duty. - - -SECOND DIALOGUE. - - _Caroline--Madame de Boissy, working_. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--Caroline, did you really require that sash, which -you induced your uncle to give you, by asking him to lend you the money -to buy it? - -CAROLINE.--I am very glad to have it, mamma, since it has cost me -nothing. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--You knew, then, that your uncle would make you a -present of it? - -CAROLINE.--Mamma, I only asked him to lend me the money. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--I know that; but did you expect you would have to -repay him? - -CAROLINE.--Certainly! if he wished it. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--But did you think he would wish it? - -CAROLINE (_embarrassed_).--I do not know, mamma. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--Tell me candidly,--when you asked your uncle to lend -you the money to purchase this sash, which you did not want, and which, -in all probability, you would not have bought had you been alone,--did -you not know that it was a means of obtaining it as a gift? - -CAROLINE.--Dear me, mamma! you make me examine my conscience as if I -were going to confession. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--And it is thus you should always examine it, my -child. - -CAROLINE.--Yes, mamma, when one has done anything wrong. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--Or to ascertain whether one has done wrong. - -CAROLINE (_much confused_).--But what wrong can I have done? My uncle -could act as he pleased, and it was certainly quite true that I had no -money in my purse. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--There was one thing, however, which was not quite -true, but which you, nevertheless, wished to make him believe, and that -was, that you really intended to buy this sash yourself. - -CAROLINE (_still confused_).--But, mamma, my intentions do not concern -any one but myself. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--You seem to fear the contrary, since you conceal -them. You would not have been willing that your uncle should have -discovered them; therefore, while you were really actuated by one -motive, you led him to suppose that you were influenced by another. -You would not have asked him to give you this ribbon, because you know -that we ought not to accept a gift, unless we feel that the giver has -as much pleasure in presenting it as we have in receiving it, and, in -that case, it will occur to him as readily as to ourselves. You have, -therefore, allowed your uncle to believe that you had the delicacy not -to desire a present, which it had not occurred to him to make you, -while, at the same time, you endeavoured to make him think of it by -underhand means. You have sought to obtain, at one and the same time, -both the esteem which delicacy merits, and the gift which it would be -necessary to sacrifice in order to deserve this esteem. It is evident -that both cannot belong to you, and that you have committed a theft in -the transaction. - -CAROLINE (_shocked_).--Oh! mamma, we only commit theft when we injure -some one, and I have not injured any one. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--You have extorted from your uncle a present, which -he probably would not have made to any one whom he believed capable of -subterfuge. You have cheated his intentions of giving you an unexpected -pleasure. - -CAROLINE.--He cannot know that; therefore his pleasure will be all the -same. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--Caroline, would you think you were not stealing, -if you took money from the coffers of a rich man who made no use of -it, and did not know how much he had? If you did not do him an injury -of which he was conscious, you injured those to whom his money would -one day go, and who might not be either so rich or so indifferent as -himself. In like manner, if you did not do your uncle any positive -wrong, by usurping an esteem which was not your due, you at least were -unjust to those whom he might place on a level with you in his esteem, -or whom he might set beneath you; for either you must share with them -an esteem which you did not merit, and which is always more flattering -when obtained alone, or you must diminish the consolation they would -otherwise have in finding an additional example to excuse them. Be well -assured that we can never deceive without injuring some one, and that -there can be no unfair advantage which is not gained at the expense of -our neighbours. - -CAROLINE.--But really, mamma, this advantage is so very trifling. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--The case is trifling, but the principle is the same, -and you would no more wish to steal needles than diamonds. Besides, my -child, we must attach some value to, and derive some advantage from, a -thing which we take the trouble to steal; and who can, with propriety, -desire an advantage which he has not merited? Listen, Caroline: you are -now growing a great girl, and it is time you should understand all that -is due to yourself and others, in regard to uprightness and honesty in -the most trifling things, and how mean it is to wish to deceive others, -or to think it necessary to do so. - -CAROLINE.--Mamma, I have never wished to deceive any one, I assure you. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--I grant you that we do not say to ourselves, _I wish -to deceive_; we should be horrified; but, without telling absolute -falsehoods, people often pass their lives in endeavouring to make -others believe things which are untrue. If we are cold, or hot, or -tired, we complain of our sufferings; we exaggerate them in order to -attract attention, and gain pity, or at least to make people think of -us. We laugh louder than we feel inclined to do, to make it appear -that we are very gay; we look in the glass, and exclaim, "How, I am -sunburnt!" in order that we may be told that it is imperceptible, and -be complimented on our complexion. We complain of a dress that fits -badly, and say, "What a fright I look to-day," in the hope of finding -some sycophant who will assure us that we look well in everything. Or, -finally, we give expression to some worthy sentiment in order to be -praised for it. - -CAROLINE.--But, mamma, if the sentiment be sincere? - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--My dear child, there is always insincerity in the -means employed to obtain praise for it; for good feelings are not -intended to gain us admiration, but to make us do what is right. We -should not esteem the benevolence of a man, who did good merely for -the sake of obtaining commendation; nor the fraternal sentiments of -him whose sole object in displaying them was to be praised for his -attachment to his brothers and sisters. Thus, those who make a display -of feeling for the sake of being praised, must take care to conceal -their intentions; consequently, if they obtain the praise, it is quite -clear that they have stolen it. - -CAROLINE.--But one must then watch every movement of the mind, for -these things may escape us without our in the least intending it. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--To prevent them from doing so, it is only necessary -to think, once for all, of two or three things. First, that we display -very little respect or consideration for ourselves when we stoop to -deceive others, in order that they may condescend to pay attention to -us. Secondly, that we place ourselves in a very humiliating position -when we thus beg for a flattery, a compliment, or a mark of attention, -which is usually granted from mere politeness, or for the sake of -pleasing us, just as we give a penny to a beggar in the street. -Finally, that these kinds of stratagems, when they are discovered--and -they are discovered oftener than people imagine--may overwhelm us -with ridicule, or even with shame, and that the most trifling untruth -exposes us to a risk far greater than the pleasure which it procures. -Tell me if your sash would ever afford you a pleasure as great as the -annoyance you would feel, if your uncle were to discover the subterfuge -you employed in order to induce him to make you a present of it. - -CAROLINE.--Oh! mamma, you have made me absolutely hate it. I will never -even look at it again. - -MADAME DE BOISSY.--There you are wrong, my child; you must look at it, -and think of it, in order that it may remind you of the necessity of -always acting honourably. - - -THIRD DIALOGUE. - - _Monsieur de Bonnel--Augustus, his Son_. - -M. DE BONNEL.--Augustus, I hope you have returned to George, as I told -you, that little cart you took from him? - -AUGUSTUS (_ill-temperedly_).--I was obliged to do it, since you desired -me, but I did not take it from him; I paid him what it cost. If he was -so obstinate as to refuse the money, that was not my fault. - -M. DE BONNEL.--He did not want your money, and he wished to keep his -cart; you had no right to force the bargain upon him. - -AUGUSTUS.--I have a right to make him do as I please. - -M. DE BONNEL.--And how came you by this right? - -AUGUSTUS.--His father Antony is your servant. - -M. DE BONNEL.--And is that any reason that George should have no will -of his own? - -AUGUSTUS.--No; but it is a reason why he should give up to me; and the -best proof that he very well knows this, is that he always does give up -to me. To-day, though he would not sell me his cart, he did not think -of preventing me from taking it; and had it not been for you he would -certainly not have got it back again. - -M. DE BONNEL.--Very well; but, what is singular in the matter is that -for the future he will think differently, and that henceforward he will -be obliged to resist you. - -AUGUSTUS.--I should like to see him do that. - -M. DE BONNEL.--Well, you shall be gratified. Antony had forbidden his -son to use force against you for fear of hurting you. I have just told -him that if he did not order George to defend himself against you when -you torment him, as he would defend himself against one of his own -companions, George should not come here again. You will now see whether -it is his duty to humour you, and whether it is from respect that he -has hitherto yielded to you. - -AUGUSTUS.--It would be a fine thing for George to treat me like one of -his comrades. - -M. DE BONNEL.--Very well; you need not make free with him. - -AUGUSTUS.--Making him obey me is not making free with him. - -M. DE BONNEL..--When you have no right to exact obedience, you can -only obtain it from his politeness by requests such as we use towards -an equal, or exact it by force, which he will repel with his fist, and -that is the greatest familiarity I know of. - -AUGUSTUS.--But George is to be my servant one day: he has told me so a -hundred times: he will have to be submissive and respectful then. - -M. DE BONNEL.--He will only be submissive in those things in which -he has agreed to obey you: he will only be respectful so long as you -fulfil your obligations to him. A servant agrees to obey in everything -that concerns the service of his master, and that does not injure -himself. Thus, if a master commanded him to go and fight for him, or to -give him up the money which he had saved, the servant would no longer -be obliged to obey. - -AUGUSTUS.--But people do not require such things from servants. - -M. DE BONNEL.--It is quite as unjust and absurd to expect them to -labour for you beyond their strength, or to compel them to give up what -belongs to them at a price which does not suit them. If you force them -to do anything against their inclinations, they then lay aside their -respect, and resist you as well as they can, for they have only agreed -to obey your orders in certain things; nor have they consented to incur -any other risk, in case of disobedience, than that of being reprimanded -or sent away. If you go further than this, you break a covenant of -which insults formed no part any more than blows; both equally exempt a -servant from all duty. - -AUGUSTUS.--Nevertheless, there are servants who remain in their places, -although their masters overwork or ill-treat them. I have heard my -cousin Armand say all sorts of insulting things to Jack, his groom, and -even threaten to horsewhip him, because he harnessed his horse badly. -Jack went on with his work without saying a word, because he knew that -he must bear it. - -M. DE BONNEL.--And what would have happened to Jack if he had answered -his master impertinently, as he deserved to be answered? - -AUGUSTUS.--Why, Armand would have turned him out of doors without a -character, so that he would have been unable to get another situation. - -M. DE BONNEL.--At this rate, masters have the means of treating their -servants as ill as they please; and if all masters were to do so, all -servants would be obliged to submit to it, I suppose? - -AUGUSTUS.--Certainly they would. - -M. DE BONNEL.--But if all servants were to take it into their heads to -resist their masters, then the latter would either have to put up with -this or do without servants. - -AUGUSTUS.--But that would never happen. - -M. DE BONNEL.--That would happen, if service became so intolerable -that servants had no interest in humouring their masters. But as -masters and servants stand mutually in need of each other, they have -felt it to be to their advantage that the former should be kind and -the latter obedient and respectful. It is, therefore, because there -are many good masters whom it is to their interest to serve, that they -serve respectfully even those who are bad. Consequently, he who abuses -this respect is a coward, who shelters himself behind others to take -advantage of their good actions, and commit wrong with impunity. - - - - -NEW YEAR'S NIGHT. - - -On the New Year's night of 1797, a man, over whose head had passed -sixty winters, was standing at a window. He raised his mournful eyes -towards the azure vault of heaven, where floated countless stars, as -float the white blossoms of the water-lily on the bosom of a tranquil -lake; then he looked down upon the earth, where there was no one so -destitute of happiness and peace as himself, for his tomb was not -far distant. He had already descended sixty of the steps that led to -it, and bore with him from the bright days of his youth nothing save -errors and remorse. His health was destroyed; his mind a blank, and -weighed down with sorrow; his heart torn with repentance, and his -old age full of grief. The days of his youth rose up before him, and -brought back to his memory that solemn moment when his father placed -him at the entrance of those two paths, of which the one leads to a -peaceful and happy country, re-echoing with sweet song, and cheered -by an ever-cloudless sun, whilst the other leads to the abodes of -darkness--to a chasm without issue, peopled by serpents, and filled -with poison. - -Alas! the serpents had coiled around his heart; the poison had polluted -his lips, and he now awoke to the reality of his condition. - -He again raised his eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, with inexpressible -anguish, "Return, oh, Youth! Return, oh, Father! place me once more -at the entrance of life, that I may make a different choice." But his -youth had passed away, and his father slept with the dead. He beheld -a marsh-fire arise, dance over the morass, and disappear; and he said, -"Such were my days of folly!" He beheld a falling star shoot along the -sky, tremble, and then vanish; and he exclaimed, "Such am I;" and the -sharp arrows of repentance sank deeper into his heart. - -Then his thoughts turned upon all those men who had attained to his -years, who had been young when he was young, and who now, in different -parts of the world, were spending, in peace and tranquillity, this -first night of the year, as good fathers of families and friends of -truth and virtue. The pealing of the bell which celebrated the new -step of time, vibrated on the air from the turret of the neighbouring -church, sounding to his ear like a pious song. This sound re-awakened -the memory of his parents,--the wishes they had breathed for him on -that solemn day,--the lessons they had inculcated:--wishes which their -unhappy son had never fulfilled,--lessons from which he had never -profited. Overwhelmed with grief and shame, he could no longer gaze -into that heaven where his father dwelt: he turned his grief-worn eyes -towards the earth; tears flowed from them, and fell upon the snow -which covered the ground; and finding nothing to console him in any -direction, he again cried, "Return, oh, Youth! Return!" - -And his youth did return; for all this was but a troubled dream, which -had disturbed the slumbers of this first night of the year. He was -still young,--his faults alone were real. He thanked God that his -youth was not passed, that he had still the power to leave the path of -vice--to regain that of virtue; to return into that happy land covered -with abundant harvests. - -Return with him, my young readers, if, like him, you have strayed; -this terrible dream will henceforward be your judge. If, one day, -overwhelmed with grief, you should be found to exclaim, "Return, oh, -happy Youth!" the prayer will be vain, for youth will not return. - - - - -THE CURÉ OF CHAVIGNAT. - - -The Curé of Chavignat was an excellent man. He was very fond of -children, and was, consequently, a great favourite with them. He -chatted with them as if it were for his own amusement, and whilst -thus engaged he gave them useful advice, with which they, in their -turn, were highly delighted; because his instructions were usually -accompanied by stories, which accustomed them to reflect on their own -characters, on the best means of correcting their faults, and on the -pleasure arising from the possession of good qualities. Whenever the -Curé of Chavignat met with a story of this kind, he wrote it down, that -he might afterwards give it or relate it to those children to whom it -might prove useful. He went frequently to the château of Chavignat, -where the children received him with demonstrations of the greatest -delight, whilst the parents were continually thanking him for his -kindness to their children. - -One day he perceived that Juliana, the eldest of the children, who -was scalloping a piece of muslin, was quite out of temper because her -mother had reproved her. - -"When I see," said he, "a little lady who is out of humour with her -mamma, I begin to think what would be the state of matters if mammas, -on their side, were to be out of humour with their little girls." - -"It would be strange, indeed," said Juliana, "if papas and mammas -were out of humour, when they are masters, and can do exactly as they -please! That would he very just, truly!" - -"People do not then get out of humour without just cause, Miss -Juliana?" asked the Curé. "I was not aware of that." - -"Witness Madame Gonthier, our housekeeper," cried Amadeus, "who, this -morning, when her coffee overturned into the fire, scolded the girl who -has charge of the poultry-yard, because the hens' eggs were so small." - -"Just, Monsieur le Curé," said little Paul, raising his finger to his -face, "as if it was the poultry girl that made the hens' eggs." - -"Yes, my little friend; or, as if your mamma were to give Miss Juliana -a slap on the face because the apricots do not ripen this year." - -The children began to laugh, with the exception of Juliana, who, -shrugging her shoulders, said in a disdainful tone, "Fortunately, -people do not have relations so ill-bred as Madame Gonthier." - -"Indeed, young lady," replied the Curé, "there are, I assure you, many -persons in that unfortunate predicament. Besides," he added, "it is -possible that a young lady very well brought up, like Miss Juliana, who -just now gave her little brother a kick because her mamma had found -fault with her--it is quite possible, I repeat, that when she grows up -to be a woman, she may pull her little daughter by the ears because her -footman failed to execute a commission properly." - -"Oh, she did not hurt me," cried Paul, "I drew back." - -"True," said the Curé, "but when it is the mamma who gives the blow -it is not always so easy to draw back. I was once acquainted with a -youth whose aunt was extremely ill-tempered, and who when she was -dissatisfied with one person would vent her anger on another; and I can -assure you, the young gentleman found this anything but agreeable." - -"Oh, a story! a story! Monsieur le Curé," exclaimed both the little -boys at once; "pray relate it to us." - -"I will," said the Curé, giving a side glance at Juliana, "some day -when nobody is out of humour here, for a certain person might take it -to herself, and I do not wish to be uncivil to any one." - -"Oh! pray relate your story, by all means, Monsieur le Curé," said -Juliana, very sharply; "people can take it as they please." - -"Young lady," replied the Curé, "when I relate a story, I wish it to be -taken as I please." Juliana was silent, for she clearly perceived that -she had spoken impertinently. - -The next day, as soon as the Curé arrived, the little boys failed not -to remind him of the promised story: he did not wait to be pressed, for -he had brought the manuscript with him. - -He seated himself at the table where Juliana was at work; she neither -advanced nor drew back her chair. Amadeus placed his as close to the -Curé as possible, and little Paul established himself between his -knees, with upturned eyes and open mouth: the Curé then related what -follows:-- - - -THE QUARRELS. - -One day Louis entered his mother's room quite beside himself; his eyes -sparkled with anger, and his whole countenance expressed the strongest -resentment. - -"I saw her! there is no gainsaying it, I saw her with my own eyes," -cried Marianne, the cook, who rushed in after him, and who was almost -as much excited as himself. "Madame Ballier attempted to give him a box -on the ear," she continued; "fortunately he drew back in good time, but -trust me, if he did not feel the wind of it----" - -"Had it not been my grand aunt," said Louis, pacing the room with -hasty strides and folded arms; "had it not been my aunt----" - -"Oh, he would have strangled her for certain," rejoined Marianne; "I -saw that clearly, and in my opinion she would only have had what she -deserved, the horrid thing." - -"Marianne!" said Madame Delong, in a severe tone, and Marianne left -the room shrugging her shoulders. Then addressing her son, "Are you -quite sure, Louis," she said, "that you are not in some degree to -blame?" Louis continued to pace the apartment without making any reply. -Madame Delong repeated the question, but Louis had not yet sufficiently -recovered himself to understand exactly what his mother was saying. At -this moment Madame Ballier made her appearance; she looked confused, -and speaking hurriedly, like a person who is afraid of being prevented -by some disagreeable speech, she said, "Louis, will you go with me to -the play this evening?" - -Louis started and appeared surprised; but after a moment's hesitation, -he replied, in a gloomy manner, turning away his head, "No, thank you, -aunt." - -"There are two actors arrived from Paris," added Madame Ballier, still -more embarrassed. - -"I am aware of it: I saw the notice posted up as I came from the -college, and they are going to perform _The Templars_." - -"Well, will you not come?" - -"No, aunt," replied Louis again, rather sharply. Excited at once by -resentment and the regret of losing the play, he was about to add some -angry expression, but he restrained himself, and replied in the calmest -tone that he could command, "I have to work for the examination of the -inspectors who are coming this day week." - -"Very well, I can go by myself," said Madame Ballier, still more -annoyed. She went to the window as if to look at something, and then -left the room without saying another word. - -"If any one else had asked me," said Louis, in a tone of vexation, as -soon as she was gone, "nothing would have delighted me more. Ever since -I read the announcement I have been thinking how much I should like -to see _The Templars_; but," he added, in an altered voice, "I will -not give her the pleasure of thinking she can afford me the slightest -gratification." - -His anger increased from the sacrifice which it had induced him to -make. His mother, wishing to calm him a little, said caressingly, as -she took his arm, "But you will give _me_ the gratification, will you -not, of taking a walk with me? I have a headache, and want the air;" -and, seeing that he did not take any notice, she added, with a smile, -"I shall not resign myself to going out without you, so readily as my -aunt does." - -Louis never refused his mother anything, and, although only fourteen -years of age, he was so right-minded, and possessed so noble and -generous a disposition, that Madame Delong treated him with entire -confidence, and never, in any thing she required of him, appealed -to any other motive than his own good sense and affection. Louis -immediately took his hat, went to fetch his mother's parasol, and, -without saying a word, offered her his arm to go out. Madame Delong saw -the effort he was making to control himself, and said, "Thank you, my -dear." These words began to restore peace to the soul of Louis. He was -devotedly fond of his mother, and felt proud of being able to make her -life more agreeable and happy. Almost always absent from her husband, -and continually anxious and trembling for the dangers to which his -military life exposed him, Madame Delong required the exertion of much -fortitude to preserve her equanimity; and Louis, witnessing her trials, -had early learned to avoid whatever might render her resignation more -difficult. Very different in character from those children who imagine -they obtain a species of triumph over their superiors when they have -excited their displeasure, Louis took a pride in being able to ward off -troubles and annoyances from his mother. It was not in a few instances, -but in all cases that he was in the habit of doing this. If he gave -her his arm in the street or the fields, he would avoid a rough path -where she might hurt herself, lead her away from the herd of cows she -did not like to venture amongst, or remove the horse she had to pass. -Quick, and even thoughtless in his own case, he became prudent where -his mother was concerned. Madame Delong would observe, with a smile, -"Louis is my protector;" and Louis would smile also, and at the same -time slightly blush, but not from annoyance; at such moments he felt -himself a man, and in a position to be useful to others. - -This kind of relation between Louis and his mother had not in the -least diminished the respect due to her maternal authority and the -superiority of her understanding. To this authority Louis submitted the -more cheerfully, because the possibility of her at any time abusing -it never entered his mind. He could not for a moment believe that -his mother could ever be unjust or unreasonable; scarcely could he -even believe that she could ever be mistaken; and if at any time he -hesitated to perform his duty, the moment she said, "My dear, it must -be done," Louis thought he heard the voice of his own conscience. - -Nevertheless, since Madame Ballier had become an inmate of the house, -Louis had more frequently experienced the difficulty of submission; -and, upon certain points, all his affection for his mother was -scarcely sufficient to supply what was wanting in his yet immature -reason. Madame Ballier, who was formerly a mercer at Paris, had never -received the advantage of a good education; she was sister to Monsieur -Delong's mother, and when, at twelve years of age, he was left an -orphan, she had given him a home. At fifteen he entered the army, -obtained promotion by his bravery and good conduct, and neglecting -no opportunity of improving himself and acquiring knowledge, he rose -to the rank of colonel, and to the reputation of a distinguished -man. Madame Delong, though without fortune, had been extremely well -educated, and the congeniality of their minds and characters had -established between them the most tender and perfect union. - -When, two or three years before the time of our story, Madame Ballier, -then a widow, had retired from business, in rather indifferent -circumstances, Madame Delong proposed to her husband to offer her a -home with them. Monsieur Delong at first hesitated, from the fear -of giving his wife an associate by no means agreeable; but he soon -yielded to the noble motives by which she was influenced in making -this proposal, and to his conviction, that the mingled gentleness and -firmness of her character would greatly diminish the inconveniences -which might otherwise result from such an arrangement. Madame Ballier -accordingly joined the family of her niece in the small town where -the latter resided, in the absence of her husband, and where with a -very moderate income she endeavoured, by strict economy, to meet the -expenses occasioned by the war, and provide for the education of her -son. A good-hearted woman in the main, but often weary of her position, -and, notwithstanding the deference with which she was treated by -Madame Delong, dissatisfied at not being the mistress, Madame Ballier -was frequently out of humour, and found means of showing her temper -on a thousand occasions; for persons who have no taste for serious -occupation are apt to become very fanciful about trifles. The two -greatest sufferers were Louis and his black wolf-dog Barogo: as for -Marianne, a quarrel was not positively disagreeable to her, and it was -a pleasure which Madame Ballier seldom hesitated to afford her. Madame -Delong would by no means have permitted Marianne to fail in respect -to her aunt, but neither did she like that Madame Ballier should -uselessly torment Marianne, an old and faithful servant, who had been -in the family ever since her mistress was born, and who was determined -to end her days in it; both, therefore, were equally interested in -keeping their quarrels secret, and thus being sure of each other, they -observed no mutual consideration; and a coffee-pot placed on the fire -precisely where it would most inconvenience Marianne, or removed at -the very time Madame Ballier wished to have it heated; a commission -given inopportunely, and received with a bad grace, and, above all, the -delinquencies of Robinet, Madame Ballier's cat, who was afraid of mice -and devoured every thing in the larder, kept up a fund of animosity, -and underhand quarrels, which interestingly occupied one half of their -lives. - -But between Louis and his aunt, the game was by no means so equal. - -As Madame Ballier had no authority whatever over him, she made a -point of contradicting him in everything. His shoes were too tight, -or his trowsers too wide; he wore his hair too short, or his sleeves -too long: and as the next day neither hair, nor sleeves, nor shoes, -nor trowsers, differed in any degree from what they were the night -before, the remarks were repeated with as much acrimony as if Madame -Ballier were herself obliged to wear the things in question. Madame -Delong, perfectly mute during these disputes, in which she never took -any part, was not equally reserved with her son, whom she scrupulously -compelled, much against his inclination, to restrain his conduct within -the bounds of proper respect; but all her authority, and her severe -looks, were scarcely sufficient to effect this, when the injustice fell -upon Barogo, whom Madame Ballier regularly turned out of the room, two -or three times a day saying that he gave her fleas. Louis would then -immediately follow, in order to be with his dear Barogo, and usually -found him engaged in avenging upon Robinet the insults received from -her mistress. Warned by the noise he made in pursuing her favourite, -Madame Ballier would fly to the rescue; snatch up, in her alarm and -anger, a broom, a pair of tongs, or whatever came to hand, as a weapon -against the aggressor, and while the latter made his escape growling, -Madame Ballier, drawn away by a deeper interest, ran to seek and -console her cat. Then Barogo, satisfied with having proved his right of -resistance, by displaying his white teeth through his black moustaches, -would return and take quiet possession of the sitting-room, where he -soon became the object of a fresh contest. - -"Why should we be obliged to submit to my aunt's caprices and -ill-humour?" Louis would sometimes exclaim in a fit of uncontrollable -indignation. "Why should we be obliged to live with our relations -at all?" asked Madame Delong one day in reply. "Why should we be -obliged to keep up any ties of kindred? Why should not brothers and -sisters, fathers and children, go each their own way, without troubling -themselves about each other? If I were to become peevish, morose, and -difficult to please, tell me, Louis, would you be obliged to retain any -regard for me?" - -"Oh! my dear mother!" cried Louis, wounded at such a supposition. - -"My child," replied his mother, "when we once believe that we may -quarrel with our duties, because they are difficult, there is none of -them that may not be brought into question, for there is none of them, -the fulfilment of which may not at some period or other occasion us -some inconvenience. Do you not think a nephew owes to his aunt, and an -_aged_ aunt, respect and complaisance?" - -"Undoubtedly, but--" - -"But you would prefer that your aunt should be careful to render this -duty more agreeable to you:--this I can conceive; yet a duty is not the -less a duty because it is painful." - -"I should think my aunt has duties also," said Louis, with a little -asperity. - -"My son," returned his mother, very seriously, "when you have found -out a suitable manner of representing them to her, you will be quite -justified in thinking of them." - -"What is to be done, then?" Louis would sometimes exclaim, quite out -of patience at seeing no means of avoiding what he knew not how to -endure. One day, when the heat was extreme, and he was continually -wiping his face during a discussion of this kind, his mother said to -him, "Six or seven years ago, my dear, you would not have been able to -bear such heat as this without repeating every moment, _Oh, how hot it -is!_ but now you scarcely pay any attention to it, because you know -that it is unbecoming in a man not to show himself superior to petty -inconveniences." - -Louis was quite old enough to understand his mother's arguments, but -he had not yet acquired sufficient resolution to submit to them. When -his aunt was out of humour with him, he became angry in his turn; if -she wished to subject him to some caprice of hers, he was the more -obstinately bent on a contrary whim; and to make him feel it a matter -of great importance that his hat should remain on the table, it was -only necessary that Madame Ballier should take it into her head to -throw it upon a chair. - -When out of his mother's presence, and no longer restrained by her -looks, which habitually followed him, and which he dared not avoid, -Louis was always more disposed to forget himself, and did not often -escape the danger, particularly as he was then more openly attacked -by Madame Ballier, who was no longer held in check by the fear of -disobliging her niece. The last quarrel had been occasioned by one of -those trifles which so often occasioned them, and Louis, exasperated to -the utmost by his aunt's ill-humour, and perhaps not very well disposed -himself that day had taken the liberty to indulge in remarks so little -measured, that the anger of Madame Ballier had gone beyond all bounds. -She was sorry for it afterwards; not that she considered it anything -extraordinary for an aunt to box the ears of a nephew who had spoken -impertinently to her; but such things were not in accordance with the -tone of the family, and although she herself constantly found fault -with her niece, she would not have liked her niece to find fault with -her. - -She thought to repair all by the offer of taking Louis to the theatre, -and could not understand his retaining so much resentment as to refuse. -Consequently, she was much out of humour the whole of dinner-time, and -when upon leaving the table a fresh proposal was again met by a refusal -on the part of Louis, she went off shrugging her shoulders with a sigh -of indignation. - -She had only just left the room, when in came M. Lebeau, a friend of -Madame Delong's. - -"Come, come, my boy!" he said to Louis, "to the theatre:--quick! there -is not a moment to lose, or we shall not find places. Charles and -Eugenia are on the way with their mother; we will overtake them." - -Louis and his mother looked at each other without making any reply. -"Well! are you coming?" said M. Lebeau, impatiently. "I do not think -that Louis can go to the play this evening," said Madame Delong, at -length, looking earnestly at her son. - -"And why not?" - -"He has work to finish." - -"I worked hard enough when I was young, and learned my profession as a -notary as well as any one else, but I did not give up my amusement, for -all that. Why, my lad, at your age, when I wanted to go to the play, I -spent the night in work, and there was an end of it." - -"That would not be very difficult," said Louis, looking at his mother, -whilst his face was scarlet with anger and anxiety. Madame Delong -suppressed a sigh, called forth by the sight of her son's vexation, -and said to him; "You know very well, my dear, that that is not the -difficulty:" then, turning to M. Lebeau, she added, in a firmer tone, -"It is impossible; Louis has refused to go with his aunt." - -"His aunt! his aunt! What then? He has changed his mind; surely he has -a right to be more amused with my children than with his aunt. Come, -come, I will undertake to make her listen to reason, though we do not -generally understand one another particularly well." - -Louis seemed in suspense. "M. Lebeau," said Madame Delong, very -seriously; "since it must be confessed, Louis has had a slight quarrel -with his aunt, and it was for that reason that he declined going -with her to the theatre. I do not blame him for it, it was the most -respectful manner of letting his aunt know that she had wounded his -feelings; but I leave him to judge," she added, looking at Louis, -"whether it be becoming in him to go and brave her as it were, and as -if he said to her, 'I did not choose to accept your favours, I can -dispense with them.'" - -"Such punctilios are only fit for a girl," cried M. Lebeau. "My dear -friend, I tell you plainly, you will make a milksop of that son of -yours." - -"I am not aware," said Madame Delong, still looking at her son, "that -Louis feels himself any the weaker, or the less worthy of esteem, when -he submits to his duty, than when he fails in it in order to follow his -pleasures." - -Louis shook his head; he knew very well that his mother was right; -but he found it impossible to make any answer. At this moment Charles -rushed into the room: quite out of patience at not seeing his friend -Louis arrive, he had run to look for him. "Come, make haste!" he cried; -"you will make us lose the first scene, and perhaps even our places." - -Louis, with eyes cast down, pressed his hand, and not daring to trust -his voice, said, in a tone scarcely audible,--"I am not going to the -theatre." - -"Not going! and why not?" asked Charles, much astonished. - -"On account of my aunt." - -Charles, in consternation, looked alternately at his father and at -Madame Delong; the latter hastened to observe: "It is a voluntary -sacrifice which my son makes to his sense of propriety, and one which I -hope we shall be able to make up to him another time." - -"Another time!" cried M. Lebeau, striking the floor with his cane; -"another time! why, they are going away to-morrow; I tell you they set -off to-morrow." - -Louis started. Madame Delong, looking at him, sorrowfully, but firmly, -said, "Is that any reason, my son?" Louis hurried out of the room; he -was choking. Charles left the house in grief, and M. Lebeau, as he took -his departure, repeated, "I always said so; the most sensible woman in -the world knows nothing about bringing up boys." - -Madame Delong immediately went to her son's room and found him leaning -against the corner of the mantel-piece; his fortitude was completely -overcome; the poor boy was in tears, and his mother felt much disposed -to join him. As if suddenly struck with resentment upon her entrance, -he exclaimed, "You wished to punish me because I dared to be angry -with my aunt when she tried to box my ears;" and these last words were -uttered in a still more passionate manner. - -"To punish you!" said Madame Delong, putting her arm round her son's -neck, "to punish you! Oh, my dear child, it is a very long time since I -have even thought it possible that I could have occasion to punish you!" - -The tears of Louis were now flowing abundantly. Madame Delong leant her -head on his shoulder, saying, with much emotion, "My dearest child, -overcome this weakness, I entreat you. What will become of me who have -the responsibility of making you acquainted with your duties, if you -have not resolution enough to fulfil them? How cruel will be my task, -Louis! I have laboured all your life to inspire you with fortitude, in -order that your courage might sustain my own." - -"This disappointment cannot grieve you as much as it does me," said -Louis, still a little angry, though already in some degree softened by -his mother's words. - -"My dear boy," replied Madame Delong, "if you were now at the theatre, -I should be watching the clock, and although alone, should fear to see -the hours pass, for I should say, 'he is now enjoying himself,' and -that would render my whole evening delightful." Louis kissed her hand. -"But," she continued, "if after having refused your aunt, you had been -weak enough to accompany M. Lebeau, and I weak enough to consent to -your doing so, we should both of us have had our pleasure destroyed; -the sight of your aunt at the play would have disturbed you the whole -time; on your return we should not have dared to converse together on -what would have been a subject of self-reproach to both, and you would -have gone to bed without having anything to relate to me." - -Louis was insensibly calmed by the conversation and affection of his -mother; nevertheless, he had some difficulty in applying steadily to -anything during this evening, and he dreamed all night that he had gone -to the theatre, and was wandering round and round the house without -being able to find the entrance, whilst all the time the play was going -on, and he could hear the applause. - -Madame Ballier, on her part, had returned home much dissatisfied with -the manner in which she had passed her evening. She had the misfortune -to be seated in a box close to the one occupied by M. Lebeau and his -family: there was already a good deal of bitterness between them, for -M. Lebeau, though a good-natured and upright man, was little disposed -to think that people should inconvenience themselves for the sake -of others; he had never approved of Madame Delong's plan of having -Madame Ballier with her, and consequently had taken an aversion to -the latter almost before he had made her acquaintance. Never would -he consent to show her the slightest attention calculated to attract -her to his house, and as this prevented Madame Delong from visiting -there as frequently as she had previously done, M. Lebeau was the more -dissatisfied; and the grievances of Louis, who was a great favourite -of his, and even those of Barogo, with whom he cultivated a certain -degree of intimacy, did not tend to soften matters. When, upon entering -the theatre, he saw Madame Ballier in the next box to that which his -family had taken, he felt so annoyed that he would have changed his -place had it been possible. His excitement, and the explanations given -to his party in no very low tone, soon informed Madame Ballier of what -had taken place, and the name of "poor Louis," which, at every pause -in their pleasure, was repeated by the children in a tone of regret, -and with a side glance towards her, rendered her evening extremely -disagreeable. On returning home she complained of a headache, and -retired to her own room without seeing any one. The next day she made -no allusion whatever to the play; and if Louis was wrong in somewhat -enjoying this little revenge, he was at all events justified in -congratulating himself on having escaped a similar embarrassment. Two -days afterwards, at the house of M. Lebeau, the latter again attacked -Madame Delong on the subject of the play; Louis defended his mother -with so much eagerness, that M. Lebeau, provoked at finding in him -an opponent, exclaimed, "Young man! this is the way you spoil your -mother." Everybody laughed, and M. Lebeau amongst the rest, while -Madame Delong gave her son a smile of affectionate pride, which seemed -to say, "Persevere, my dear Louis, let us continue to aid each other -in fulfilling our duty." - -The Curé here paused. "Is that all?" exclaimed the two little boys. - -"That is not a story," said Juliana, drawing up her head with an air of -pretension. "It has neither beginning nor end." - -"As to the end," replied the Curé, "I have not told you that my story -was ended: I wished merely to show you how very disagreeable it is for -young persons when their relations happen to be bad-tempered, and at -the same time to point out to you that when such is the case it is the -duty of the young to make every sacrifice rather than displease their -relations." - -"It was not very difficult for Louis to do what his mother wished," -said Juliana, in a tone which betrayed a little vexation; "she always -spoke to him so gently." - -"Well! that is good!" cried Amadeus. "The other day when you were in a -passion, and nurse very gently begged you to listen to reason, did you -not tell her to march off with her reason?" - -"Mr. Amadeus," replied Juliana, colouring violently, "mind your own -affairs if you please, or I shall tell, in my turn, what naughty words -you made use of in the grove, when papa called you to write your -exercise." - -"I see," said the Curé, "that you would neither of you have been as -reasonable as Louis, though he was nothing to boast of." - -"Yes," observed Amadeus, "for he obeyed the wishes of his mother only -when she was present." - -"I don't behave like him, Monsieur le Curé," said Paul, touching the -clergyman's arm to make him listen to him; "when mamma goes away and -says, 'Paul, don't go near the water,' I don't go near it at all." - -"I should like to know," said Juliana, "what would have happened if -Louis had remained for some time _tête-à-tête_ with his aunt?" - -"That is precisely the sequel of my story," replied the Curé. The -children having expressed their wish to hear this sequel, the Curé -promised it, and a few days afterwards he thus resumed the adventures -of Louis. - - -ABSENCE. - -Madame Delong received intelligence from Germany which caused her the -greatest affliction. Her husband had been dangerously wounded, and she -immediately set off to attend on him, deeply grieved at the necessity -of leaving her son to his own discretion, as it were, with a person who -was incapable of maintaining any authority over him. - -Being also perfectly well aware that whilst Madame Ballier had to -command, and Marianne to obey, there would be little peace in the -household, we may easily imagine what were her parting admonitions, -and what the promises and good resolutions made to conform to them. -But, scarcely was she out of sight, when Madame Ballier, eager to -take possession of her authority, positively exacted of Marianne that -the soup tureen, which from time immemorial had been placed on the -sideboard, should for the future be put away in the closet, and that, -contrary to the practice hitherto observed, the glasses should be -rinsed before the decanters. From this moment all hope of agreement was -at an end; and when Louis returned home to dinner, he found Marianne -in a state of the greatest excitement. "Master Louis," she said, "this -will never do; that woman will drive me out of my senses. I tell you, -Master Louis, we can never go on in this way." - -"Louis," said Madame Ballier, very composedly, to her nephew, when he -came to take his place at the dining-table, "I beg you for the future -to be more punctual to the time." - -Louis looked at his watch, then at the time-piece, and was much -surprised to find that they did not agree; he had set them together in -the morning, and now perceived that, without any intimation to him, -Madame Ballier had advanced the time-piece after his departure. He -showed his watch, and said coolly, but not without some intention of -annoying, "This is the time by Monsieur Lebeau's clock, which is the -best in the town, and which everybody follows since the town clock has -been out of order." - -Madame Ballier replied, pettishly, that Monsieur Lebeau's clock went -like his head, and that the house clock was the one to which he must -conform. - -"To render that possible," said Louis, "it ought not to be altered -every moment without necessity." - -Silence ensued till about the middle of dinner, when Madame Ballier -said to her nephew, "I hope, Louis, that you do not intend to take -advantage of your mother's absence to run about and idle away your -time, instead of attending to your studies." - -"Run about! Where, aunt?" inquired Louis, greatly astonished, for he -was noted for his exactitude in the performance of his duties. - -"Why, to Monsieur Lebeau's, for example." - -"My mother has given me permission to go there," replied Louis, in a -careless tone. - -"Morning and evening?" demanded Madame Ballier, sharply. - -"As often as I please," replied Louis, drily. - -"As often as you please!" cried Madame Ballier. "Very fine, truly; if -you have permission to do whatever you please, sir, it was not worth my -while to take charge of you." - -"You take charge of me, aunt!" exclaimed Louis, in his turn, with an -indignation which completely exasperated Madame Ballier. - -"And who, then, is to take charge of you, pray, sir?" - -Louis was silent: he had raised a difficult question; for he could not -possibly suppose that at his age he could avoid being responsible for -his conduct to some one or other; nor could he tell Madame Ballier -that it was not to her that he owed this responsibility, as this -would neither have been respectful nor true; for, in fact, if he had -been guilty of any impropriety, if he had neglected his studies, and -spent his time away from home in the absence of his mother, it was -undoubtedly the duty of his aunt to repress such misconduct by every -means in her power. Louis' mistake consisted in not remembering, that -it is not only a duty to yield, in matters of importance, to those who -have a right to exact obedience; but that we ought likewise to yield to -them in trifles also; because it is but reasonable that we should avoid -giving them annoyance. - -They again relapsed into silence; but on rising from table Madame -Ballier said to her nephew, at the same time carefully emphasizing -every word, "Notwithstanding all your permissions, you will be so good -as to remember, Master Louis, that I am amenable for you in the absence -of your mother, and that I shall not allow you to commit any follies; -do you understand that?" She took care to close the door as she -pronounced these last words, so as to avoid having to hear any reply -to them. Louis had no thought of answering her; all his ideas were in -confusion. Not having the slightest inclination to commit any follies, -as Madame Ballier expressed it, he was surprised to find himself so -extremely offended at her prohibition of them. - -"Do but look at that woman, now," said Marianne, folding her arms, and -fixing her eyes on the door by which Madame Ballier had made her exit. - -"If this is the way she begins," resumed Louis, slowly setting down -the glass which in his surprise he had held suspended near his lips. -It seemed as if a thunderbolt had fallen at their feet, so little were -they prepared for their proper course of action, which was simply to -allow things and words of no importance to pass quietly by. - -Louis went to M. Lebeau's to console himself for his vexations, by -relating them to Charles and Eugenia. "Let her grumble as much as she -pleases; you take your own way," said Charles. - -Eugenia scolded Charles and then Louis. "Ask mamma," she said, "whether -that is the proper manner of behaving to your aunt." - -"In what respect, then, do you find I behave so much amiss?" returned -Charles, hastily. "You would do just the same in my place." - -"I! by no means; when I want to do anything I ask permission; there is -surely no great trouble in that." - -"But what permission have I to ask of her?" - -"That you know best,--permission to look out at the window, if she -requires it; it would be no great hardship after all." - -"That, certainly, would be very pretty for a boy!" said Charles. - -"It would seem, then, that it is more becoming in a boy to be -unreasonable, than it is in a girl?" - -"Pshaw! Eugenia," said Louis, ill-humouredly, as he took Charles by -the arm to lead him away from his sister; "you know nothing about the -matter; and besides, what you say is only an affectation." - -"I am sure," replied Eugenia, offended in her turn, "that you give -yourself airs; it costs you but little to make rude speeches." - -They quarrelled, then became reconciled. Louis found in Eugenia's -advice much that resembled the counsels of his mother; and he was only -the more distressed by dimly perceiving that he was in the wrong, -without exactly knowing how to set himself right. The fact was, that -Louis was disposed to comply with the wishes of his aunt, provided -she required nothing that was troublesome to him; and willing to -treat her with complaisance, provided she never interfered with his -inclinations; which certainly was setting himself no very difficult -task. - -A few days after this occurrence, Louis received a letter from his -mother, written at the end of her first day's journey. - -"Bear in mind, above all things, my dear son," she said in this letter, -"never to swerve from the respect you owe your aunt. You may sometimes -think she demands a greater degree of submission than she has a right -to exact; yet you must submit to this, in order to please her; for it -is your duty to make her satisfied with you. - -"Should you sometimes think she opposes you unreasonably, or from -ill-humour, the best way of showing yourself a man is by not allowing -yourself to be irritated by this conduct; for it is little children -only that people are anxious not to oppose unreasonably, for fear of -spoiling their tempers; but when they become men, they must in their -turn conform to the tempers of others. - -"In a short time, my dear son, you will have to conduct yourself -properly, not only towards those who behave well to you, but towards -all with whom you have any intercourse. So long as you are unable to -fulfil your duty, unless you have to deal with just and reasonable -persons, so long will you be unfit to dispense with the guidance of -your father and mother; for you will meet with no one else in the world -who, for the sake of sparing you the commission of a fault, will be -careful to treat you on all occasions with kindness and justice." - -The day that Louis received this letter he was more assiduous in his -attentions to his aunt; he took care not to leave the door open when -she was in the draught, and he prevented Barogo from eating up the -food prepared for Robinet--an occurrence which the evening before had -occasioned great offence. Left to himself, Louis was naturally disposed -to be obliging; but he wanted that self-control which can alone secure -us against the caprices of others. He was consequently never so much at -the mercy of his aunt's whims as when he allowed her to put him in a -passion, in spite of his good resolutions. Now, as her caprices became -every day more frequent, in proportion to the effect they produced on -him, and as in proportion to their frequency his resolution became -every day weaker, his desire of maintaining peace soon gave way to a -complete abandonment of himself to all those emotions which naturally -excite discord. The counsels of his mother now produced only a feeling -of irritation, for he had persuaded himself that what she required of -him was impossible. His home became insupportable, and he was always -anxious to escape from it; nor could his mind rest with pleasure on -anything but the idea of the enjoyment which he promised himself in -going to spend the three holidays of Whitsuntide with Madame Lebeau in -the country. - -This excursion had been arranged before the departure of Madame Delong. -Louis had often mentioned it, and considered it as a settled affair, -but Madame Ballier took it into her head, as the best possible means of -annoying him, to oblige him to ask specially for her permission. - -It had been arranged that on the Saturday preceding Whitsunday Louis -was to dine with M. Lebeau, in order to be ready to set out with the -family for the country immediately afterwards. - -On the day in question, the moment before he returned home to dress -for dinner, and make up his little package of what was to be taken -with him, Madame Ballier left the house, carrying with her the keys -of the wardrobe. Louis, greatly annoyed at not finding the keys when -he came in, asked Marianne for them, and then inquired for his aunt. -Marianne had not seen her go out, and knew not where to find her. They -separated in search of her. Louis ran out, boiling with impatience; -and, perceiving her seated on one of the benches in the promenade, he -could scarcely restrain himself sufficiently to avoid demanding his -keys before he came up to her, or ask for them, when he did arrive, in -terms of proper politeness. Madame Ballier quietly inquired what he -wanted them for? - -"I want to dress, aunt--I am in a great hurry--pray give them to me -immediately;"--and he held out a hand tremulous with impatience. - -"To dress! you never dress but on Sundays," replied Madame Ballier with -the utmost coolness. - -"But, aunt! you know I am going into the country." - -"I know nothing about it: you have not told me." - -"I have spoken of it a hundred times in your presence." - -"I am not accustomed," said Madame Ballier, "to take to myself what is -not directly addressed to me." - -"Well, then, aunt, I tell you now; I repeat it," replied Louis, with -redoubled vehemence. - -"I have an idea, sir," said Madame Ballier, very gravely, and rising at -the same time, "that you will ask me for them in a different manner." - -Louis half bent his knee, and in a tone which in his anger he -endeavoured to render derisive, said, "Will my aunt have the kindness, -the magnanimity, the clemency to give me my keys?" - -Madame Ballier made a movement as if to go away. Louis threw himself -before her: the clock was striking four, the hour appointed for the -rendezvous at M. Lebeau's. "Aunt," he exclaimed, and without perceiving -that the tone of his voice had become almost menacing: "Aunt, I entreat -you ... where are my keys?" - -"In a place," replied Madame Ballier, who on her part was beginning to -lose her self-control; "in a place where you will not get them until it -suits me." - -"You will not give them to me, then?" - -Madame Ballier walked on without condescending to reply. Louis darted -off like an arrow, taking with him, in his way home, the locksmith -usually employed in the house, who, knowing him, made no difficulty -about opening the drawers; he then dressed himself, made up a small -parcel, and, meeting Marianne, who had just come in, told her to carry -to M. Lebeau, in the course of the day, the rest of his things, that -they might not be locked up again. - -Surprised at such an order, and disturbed at seeing all the drawers -open, Marianne would fain have questioned him as to what had occurred, -but he was already at a distance, and she stood at the door gazing -after him in complete bewilderment. - -Louis was eager to arrive; eager to shake off the agitation which -tormented him. Since the departure of his mother he had never felt -satisfied with himself, at the present moment he was less so than ever, -and knew not what the future was likely to bring forth, for he had -not the courage to scrutinize the state of his mind. He concealed his -uneasiness as well as he could, not liking to mention to M. Lebeau his -disagreement with his aunt, and the idea of being for three whole days -quite free from his vexations made him speedily forget them. As soon -as dinner was over, it was announced that the asses were at the door. -Louis was appointed to lead Eugenia's, and Charles that intended for -his mother, excepting when M. Lebeau was to take the place of one or -the other, so as to let them, by turns, mount his horse. The weather -was delightful, and the young people, already animated by the prospect -of pleasure, were running down the steps, laughing and jumping, when -Marianne appeared at the door, much excited, and carrying in her arms -a large parcel, which she held out to Louis: "Here, Master Louis," she -said, "here are your clothes; when your aunt saw that I was going to -take them, she threw them in my face, saying that when they were once -out of the house they had better remain so, and you too. Then, said I, -'And I too;' for now that you are gone, Master Louis, she may manage as -she can. I will not set foot in the house till my mistress returns. -Here is the account of every thing left under my care--it may easily be -seen that all is right; besides, she has taken all the keys, and I will -no longer be answerable for anything." - -"But, Marianne," said Louis, who was excessively disturbed, "I am not -going away--I am to be absent only two days." - -"Oh! indeed! but she declared that you should remain where you -are--that she was going to write to your mother--that she would no -longer be answerable for you--and I don't know what besides." - -"You will stay with us," said Charles, with great glee. - -"What nonsense!" said Madame Lebeau, impatiently, "his aunt will never -drive him away from the house." - -"Oh! as for that, she said that if he came back, she should go away," -replied Marianne, "not that she will do any such thing--but it is all -the same to me. I remained there only for your sake, Master Louis, -and now I have done with her. Didn't she say it was I that forced the -lock, and that she would take me before the Justice of the Peace! Let -her do so! I am not afraid of her; I am better known in the town than -she is. The Justice of the Peace, indeed! I am at my sister's, in the -next street, let her come for me there:--Good-by, Master Louis."--Then -turning back--"Oh! stay! here is a letter from your mamma, which, with -all this bother, I forgot to give you;" and she went away, repeating to -herself, "The Justice of the Peace! Much I care for her and her Justice -of the Peace!" Thus she went on, becoming more and more irritated every -time this idea recurred to her mind. - -Louis was thunderstruck; he turned his mother's letter mechanically in -his hand--it seemed already to pain him, as if it contained a reproach. - -"What is all this?" demanded M. Lebeau, who came up in the midst of -Marianne's harangue; and Louis scarcely knew how to give him an -explanation, so trifling was the subject in dispute. - -"Come with us all the same," said Charles, in an under-tone, "you can -settle all that on your return." - -"Write her a very submissive letter from the country," said Eugenia. -Louis heard not a word that was said, he had just opened his mother's -letter. - -"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, in a tone of grief, whilst he hid his -face in his hands. - -"What has happened?--your father!" cried Madame Lebeau, alarmed. - -"On the contrary," said Louis, blushing at the exclamation which had -just escaped him, "my father is better;" and he added, in a subdued -tone, "An hour ago this letter would have rendered me extremely happy." - -Madame Delong had written to inform her son that her husband was out of -danger, and in a fit state to bear the journey; she was to set out with -him in a few days on his return home, where it would be necessary for -him to remain, to complete his recovery, and to pass the time of his -convalescence, which was expected to be long. - -"I shall soon, therefore, my dear son," added Madame Delong, "present -you to your father, who has not seen you these four years. He is -continually speaking of you, and I scarcely dare to reply: I fear to -trust my own affection; I fear to speak of you more favourably than -the event may justify. Nevertheless, dear Louis, I trust he will be -pleased with us. One thing alone disturbs me," she continued, "I am -not satisfied with the tone of your last letter when speaking of your -aunt. My dear child, I must warn you that your father, who is much -weakened by long-continued exertion and severe suffering, is unable to -bear the slightest agitation; it is necessary for him that the whole -house should be as tranquil as the apartment of an invalid. Be on the -watch, therefore, that on his arrival every thing may wear the aspect -of harmony, and nothing arise to disturb him. Examine carefully, my -dear son, whether you have prepared for us the reception I require, and -whether you feel yourself thoroughly disposed to fulfil your duty." - -Louis was overwhelmed. "Well!" said M. Lebeau, who was waiting, and who -was not fond of waiting, "Are you coming or not?" - -"What will my mother say?" said Louis, who hardly heard the words -addressed to him. - -"What will she say? Why, you are not in fault, are you?" - -"I really don't know anything at all about it." - -"Oh; if you don't know, that is another matter. Come, my boy, you -should always know what you mean or what you don't mean; whether you -are right or whether you are wrong, and then act accordingly." - -Louis now presented his mother's letter, not, however, that M. Lebeau -might decide for him, for his resolution was already taken. - -"Yes," said M. Lebeau, after having read the letter, "you will do well -to arrange matters if you can;" and Louis, without speaking another -word, took the parcel which Marianne had brought, fastened to it -the one which he had made up to take into the country, and passing -his stick through them, put it on his shoulder, pressed the hand of -Charles, nodded to Eugenia, with a sigh, and walked to the door. - -"Is he going away?" asked Charles and Eugenia, in consternation. - -"You will come back to us," said M. Lebeau, who liked to make the best -of every thing. Louis again nodded, and departed. He soon heard the -noise of the donkeys as they were mounting, and of M. Lebeau's horse -pawing the ground, impatient to set out; he turned his head, and saw -them all preparing for their departure, but in silence; and he watched -them to the very end of the street, without hearing a single burst of -laughter. - -He walked on, without very well knowing what was to be done; he -thought, however, that he must in the first place seek Marianne, and -prevent her from sleeping out of the house; and, afterwards, go and -inform his aunt that it was he who had caused the locks to be forced, -and thus prevent her from going to the Justice of the Peace. He found -Marianne extremely excited, relating what had passed to her sister, who -was vainly endeavouring to pacify her. - -"Stop!" she said, when she saw Louis enter; "there is Master Louis -himself, who will tell you that it is quite impossible to live with -that woman." - -"But what are you doing here, Master Louis? and your parcel?--you -should not have made me carry it to Monsieur Lebeau's; I would have -brought it straight here myself. My sister will lock it safe up in her -chest, I promise you, Master Louis; you may be quite easy about it." - -"But Marianne," repeated Louis several times impatiently, in vain -attempting to interrupt her; "but Marianne, it is not that; I come to -tell you that you must return home." - -"Return home! and for what, pray, Master Louis? It was all very well, -whilst you were there; but as for your aunt, she can do well enough -without me, and I can do without her. Go, then, Master Louis, and take -your pleasure in the country; you need not be afraid, we shall not bite -one another in your absence." - -"But, Marianne," replied Louis, more and more out of patience, yet -still hesitating to engage himself, "I tell you it is not certain--it -is indeed very possible that I may not go into the country at all." - -"How!--not go into the country! Oh! that is quite another affair! It -was well worth while to open the drawers in such a hurry! Well, if -that is the case, I will go and make your bed to-morrow, Master Louis; -you may be very sure I shall not leave your room in disorder; you may -depend upon that beforehand; your bed shall be ready." - -"And dinner also, Marianne?" - -"Dinner for your aunt? oh! she can dine well enough without me, the -dear creature! If she had nobody to cook her dinner but me, I warrant -you it would not make her ill;" and Marianne's passion beginning to -revive, she talked to herself and to every one around, without their -being able to stop her tongue. - -"But listen to me, do, pray, Marianne," cried Louis, almost losing -temper himself; "I tell you that my father and mother are coming." - -"What! the colonel!--my mistress!" exclaimed Marianne. "Gracious me! -when?--where are they?" and she seemed ready to run and meet them. - -"Oh, not yet, Marianne," said Louis; "but they are on the road; here is -the letter which gives me the intelligence, and you must see that if -they find all the house out of sorts in this manner----" - -"Ah yes! you are quite right, Master Louis, that is very true. The -poor colonel!--and my mistress! How happy she must be!--how is he, -now? What! they are really coming!" and the exclamations of Marianne, -mingled and succeeded each other with as much rapidity in her delight -as in her anger. The whole course of her ideas was completely changed, -and perhaps on a closer consideration of the arrival of her master -and mistress, she might feel some uneasiness as to the consequences -of her late conduct, which in the heat of the moment she had not very -attentively examined. There was no difficulty in inducing her to -return. "Must we not be preparing the house for their arrival?" she -said. "Come, Master Louis; duty before all things;--duty before all -things!" - -They departed, Marianne carrying the parcels, which she insisted on -taking under her charge. "We are going back," she said, "like traders -who have been unlucky at the fair; we are as heavily laden as when we -set out." - -They found the door of the house locked; for, as Marianne was no longer -there to attend to it, Madame Ballier had carried away the key with -her when she went out. This incident, which Louis might have expected, -vexed him exceedingly; he had not yet entirely given up all hopes of -going to join his friends in the country, after having reinstalled -Marianne at home; but this now became, at least, doubtful, and every -moment of delay increased the chance of its being impossible. However, -nothing was to be done but to wait; so Louis seated himself on the -bench at the door, and did wait, but with a degree of bitterness which -every minute of impatience rendered worse. Madame Ballier did not -return till ten o'clock at night. Louis sprang up hastily, and his aunt -uttered a cry of alarm, for she had not seen either him or Marianne -in the dark corner in which they had seated themselves. However, the -servant of one of Madame Ballier's friends, who had accompanied her -home with a lantern, and to whom she had given the key, began to unlock -the door: Louis did not feel sure of being admitted without a contest; -fortunately, however, Barogo, who poked his nose in at the door the -moment it was a little opened, immediately got scent of Robinet, and -pushing it back still farther with his head, bounded into the house, -barking with all his might, as he pursued the cat. Madame Ballier -rushed in after him, Louis followed his aunt, and Marianne followed -him; the door was closed, and every thing fell naturally into its place. - -[Illustration: Madame Ballier's Return, p. 200.] - -Nevertheless, it was necessary for Louis to come to some explanation -with his aunt. He prepared himself for it, and endeavoured to summon -all the moderation of which he was capable, when he met her at the door -of his room, carrying Robinet in her arms. She asked him sharply why he -had not brought the locksmith to open the street door as well as -that of the wardrobe? - -"Since you knew that it was I who had the drawers opened," cried Louis, -his anger already excited, as his principal motive for returning had -been to explain this matter, "why, aunt, did you threaten to take -Marianne before the Justice of the Peace? I came back purposely to -prevent you from making such a scandal." - -"You are much needed, truly, young gentleman, to prevent scandals," -replied Madame Ballier, more and more irritated; "if you came here only -to tell me that, you had better return into the country." - -"That is what I purpose doing to-morrow morning," said Louis. - -"But not, I beg," replied Madame Ballier, "until I have written a -letter to Monsieur Lebeau, which you will be so good as to deliver to -him, requesting him to take charge of you, as I will have nothing more -to do with you." - -"I will carry no such letter!" exclaimed Louis, who again began to -think of the arrival of his father and mother. - -"If you do not carry it, I shall send it." - -"That will be of no use, for I shall not stay with Monsieur Lebeau." - -"If you go there to-morrow you will stay there." - -"And what is to compel me to do so?" - -"I will compel you; for I will leave this house, and send word to your -mother for what reason I do so." - -Louis returned to his room, slamming the door violently. "No," he said, -pacing the room, and stamping till the floor shook; "it is useless -trying: if one wishes to behave properly, she will not let one." - -"It is useless trying, that's certain," said Marianne, as she put the -room in order. - - * * * * * - -The Curé having laid down his manuscript, "Well, tell us," demanded the -children, "did he not go into the country?" - -"What would you have done in his place?" inquired the Curé. - -Amadeus shook his head, as he replied, "I really do not know; it was -certainly a very puzzling situation." - -"Not at all," replied Juliana, in a very decided tone; "I should the -next day have said to my aunt, 'If you still choose to hinder me from -going into the country, I shall remain here, and tell every one that it -is because I am more reasonable than you are.'" - -The Curé smiled. "That would have been very agreeable to her, indeed!" -said Amadeus. - -"Neither should I have wished it to be agreeable to her," replied -Juliana. - -"For my part," said Paul, "I would have written immediately to mamma, -in Germany, to ask her permission to go next day to Monsieur Lebeau's." - -Every one laughed at Paul's expedient, and the Curé continued his -narrative. - - -THE RECONCILIATION. - -Louis was left alone in his apartment, in a state of terrible -agitation, and he passed nearly an hour in thinking only of his -annoyance, and giving way to passion, without coming to any decision. - -The last words of Marianne rang disagreeably in his ears. "It -is useless to try," he repeated; "Is it, then, impossible to be -reasonable?" and the idea displeased him; for he would rather have -believed that it was impossible. He began to reperuse his mother's -letter; but in his present disposition he several times stopped -impatiently, for he felt as if his mother were there, giving him advice -which he was unwilling to follow. Once he even threw the letter on the -table in a passion; but suddenly recollected, that one day when he -was vexed at some advice which his mother gave him, she said, "My dear -Louis, are you displeased with my advice because it is bad, or because -it is good?" and he acknowledged that people quarrel only with good -advice, because it is that alone which one is obliged to follow. - -But although acknowledging to himself that his mother's advice was -good, Louis was not the less inclined to dispute: was he not only to -renounce so great a pleasure, and one, too, on which he had so long -counted, but also give way to his aunt, and especially in a thing so -unreasonable! Then another recollection presented itself. One day -during his childhood, when he had given a kick to Barogo, for not -learning his exercise, saying, "What a stupid brute you are!" his -mother replied, "If he be a brute, why do you expect him to do things -which require reason?" This reflection now struck him, and he said, -"Since my aunt is so unreasonable, it is foolish in me to expect her to -require of me nothing but what is reasonable;" and he added, "If I do -not yield to her in what is unreasonable, I shall never have to yield -at all, for as to other things, I should do them of my own accord." - -His agitation began to subside in consequence of the pleasure which -he experienced in feeling himself a reasonable person, and this kind -of pleasure always inspires the wish to become still more so. He -remembered also that his mother had often said to him: "Sensible people -have a great task imposed on them, for they have to be reasonable, not -only for themselves, but for those also who are unreasonable;" and -he began to consider it as something very honourable to feel one's -self intrusted with a duty of this kind. Then he felt a pleasure in -reading over again, not only the last letter which he had received -from his mother, but all she had written to him since her departure. -He was struck with the following sentence: "Your misfortune, my dear -son, consists in your having completely forgotten, in your intercourse -with your aunt, how we ought to conduct ourselves towards those whose -approbation we desire. Now, it appears to me, that approbation is -always desirable, and that there may be some pleasure in gaining it -where it costs an effort." In his present disposition, this idea -particularly struck Louis. "It would be amusing, after all," he said, -"to force my aunt to praise me." His imagination was so excited by this -project, that he could scarcely go to sleep. - -The next morning he awoke in the best disposition possible. The -weather was delightful; he heard in the streets sounds indicative of a -festival-day, and this made him feel rather heavy-hearted; but he had -other things to think of, and did not permit these recollections to -distress him. He entered his aunt's room with an air of serenity which -she had not expected. He knew that she had already inquired of Marianne -whether he was going into the country, and had been answered in the -negative. Her demeanour, accordingly, was rather stiff than angry. When -he had informed her of the news which he had received: "It is for this -reason, then, I suppose, young gentleman," she observed, "that you have -put water into your wine." - -The colour mounted into Louis' cheeks, but he had so well prepared -himself, that he did not lose his temper; besides, he could not but -acknowledge to himself that his aunt had spoken the truth. "At all -events, aunt," he said, "I should certainly be much grieved, if my -father and mother, on their return, should find you dissatisfied with -me." - -Madame Ballier was astonished; she had not calculated on such an -answer, and contented herself with muttering in a low voice, that she -might not appear at a loss, "I shall soon, then, be released from my -charge:" she then hastened to make inquiries respecting the health of -her nephew, and the time of his return; then, presently recurring to -the subject on which it was easy to see she wished to enter without -very well knowing how to begin, she said, in a tone which merely -simulated displeasure, "Then you will have no one to hinder you from -going into the country." - -"But you know, aunt," said Louis, gently, "that my mother had granted -me permission to go." - -"And for that reason," said Madame Ballier, again growing angry, "you -considered that you might dispense with the permission of every one -else." - -"You may see very well, aunt," replied Louis, in the same mild tone, -"that that is not the case, for it was because you did not wish it that -I have not gone; and yet I wanted very much to go," he added, with a -sigh, which was not feigned. - -"How he is playing the hypocrite at present!" said Madame Ballier, -turning away her head. - -"No, aunt, I am not playing the hypocrite," replied Louis, rather -hastily. "You know very well, that I calculated upon going into the -country, and I expected to enjoy myself extremely, I can assure you." - -"Louis," replied Madame Ballier, gravely, "I do not wish to deprive you -of your enjoyment, when you can ask for it in a proper manner." She -evidently expected a reply. - -Louis hesitated a moment, and then said, "Well, then, aunt; will you -... permit me to go?" The words cost him an effort, but when they -had passed his lips, he hastened to add, in order to conceal his -repugnance, "I shall be very much obliged to you." - -"You may go," said Madame Ballier, somewhat embarrassed herself with -the victory she had gained; and by way of preserving her dignity, -she added, "To say the truth, it is more than you deserve after your -conduct yesterday." - -"Come, aunt, let us talk no more of that," said Louis, in a tone of -mingled playfulness and submission; and Madame Ballier, who could -scarcely believe her senses, shrugged up her shoulders, as she said, -"Go, then, and be quick." Louis did not wait to be told a second time. -In running to dress, he met Marianne, and, wild with joy, he seized her -by the shoulders, and spinning her round, cried out, "Marianne, I am -going into the country." - -But Marianne was in no laughing mood. Robinet had just overturned a -jug of water, and she had all her kitchen to clean up. She declared -she would wring the cat's neck the very first time she could catch -him; and as she uttered these words, a single door only, and that -scarcely closed, separated her from Madame Ballier. Louis trembled; he -put his hand before her mouth, coaxed her, spoke of the necessity of -maintaining a good understanding in the house, and even read to her -a passage from his mother's letter; and Marianne, quite enchanted, -began to moralize on the duties of servants towards their masters, -which led her on, from one good sentiment to another, till she came to -protestations of attachment to Madame Ballier, and even to Robinet. -Louis had hardly reached his room upstairs, when he heard his aunt -calling to him, "Come, make haste, Louis, you will be killed with the -heat;" and, on going down, he found her brushing his hat: touched with -this mark of kindness, he kissed her hand, whilst Marianne hastened -to take the brush from her. Never had anything of the kind been seen -before in the family. - -Louis set off, his heart as light as his heels; he felt not the sun, he -felt nothing but his delight. Quite astonished at his own happiness, -he asked himself if it was legitimate, and after the most strict -self-examination, could find nothing to reproach himself with,--nothing -that had not been prompted by the best intentions; he could not but -wonder how all had been settled with two words, when he had long -been wasting so many in throwing every thing into confusion. He felt -grateful to his aunt for giving way so promptly, and he was pleased -with himself for experiencing this sentiment, for a feeling in harmony -with our duties is something akin to virtue. On his arrival, he saw, -in the distance, Charles standing at the door, and called out so loud, -"Here I am," that Eugenia heard him and ran to the door. M. Lebeau -came also, and Louis plainly perceived that he had been the subject of -conversation since the preceding evening. - -"Did your aunt make a great fuss?" inquired M. Lebeau. - -"No, no," replied Louis, in a tone which sufficiently marked his -present disposition: in his new plan of conduct towards his aunt, he -would have considered as treachery on his part a word spoken against -her in her absence. - -The three days passed delightfully, and yet Louis was not grieved -to see them come to a close. The new task which he had set himself -occupied his mind, and filled it with that interest always accorded -to a project the success of which depends on our own exertions. He -represented to himself the happiness of his mother when, on her -arrival, she would witness the good understanding which had replaced -the appearances of animosity which made her uneasy; he took pleasure -in thinking that she would feel obliged to him for this; and happy in -the idea of being able to procure her this satisfaction, the efforts by -which it was to be obtained began to assume a pleasant aspect in his -mind. On his way homewards, he was surprised to find himself thinking, -with satisfaction, of meeting his aunt, and of seeing her reconciled -to him, and he was consequently a little agitated when he arrived. -It was very near eleven o'clock at night, and Madame Ballier, whose -imagination had not been excited like that of her nephew, received -him ill enough on account of his coming home so late. Louis, though -disconcerted by this reception, was so full of his good sentiments that -he had no difficulty in keeping his temper, and he replied gently -that he was very sorry to have kept his aunt waiting. Madame Ballier, -who had not expected such an answer, had not a word to say in reply. -On the succeeding days, the case was the same: when Madame Ballier -scolded, Louis apologized, so that she ceased to scold, or did so only -from habit. One day, at dinner, she was seen to give a bone to Barogo, -and even advised Louis to make him wear a muzzle, in order to prevent -him from eating the poisoned balls which were thrown into the streets -during the extreme hot weather. Barogo, however, could not endure a -muzzle, and Louis did not like to inconvenience his favourite, so he -replied that Barogo did not go out till late, and after the balls had -been eaten by other dogs. Upon this, Madame Ballier, day after day -returned to the subject of the muzzle, and Louis persisted, with some -warmth, in defending Barogo's opinion. Hence, it happened that Madame -Ballier, having once mentioned the subject, was perpetually recurring -to it indirectly, and with some degree of asperity. Louis had at first -said to himself, "The dog is mine, and it is no concern of my aunt's," -but he afterwards considered, "If it did concern her, it would be my -duty to do it, since she required it, and, since she has no right to -interfere, I ought to do it to please her." It gave him some pain -to follow this determination, particularly when it was necessary to -overcome the resistance of Barogo, who had not made the same progress -as himself in the art of obliging. "Barogo," he said, as he fastened -on the muzzle, "we must please my aunt;" and, instead of waiting, -as perverse people often do, until his aunt again complained of his -injuring his dog, in order to obtain a triumph over her, he showed her -the muzzle, saying, "Aunt, I have put a muzzle on Barogo," and, as he -was now daily improving, he added, "and he does not mind it nearly -so much as I feared he would." Madame Ballier contented herself with -replying, somewhat ungraciously, "I knew very well it would be so," -and never failed to remind him every day to put the muzzle on his dog. -But every day, also, at dinner, Barogo received a bit of meat from -Madame Ballier, and as Barogo was sensible of this kindness, and did -not know that it was she who was the cause of his being muzzled, he -began at table to wag his tail, and fix his bright eyes upon her, which -was quite a new thing on his part, and Louis was filled with amazement -to see him. Good sense and gentleness seemed to spring up on all sides -since he had thought of introducing them into the house. - -Nevertheless, he one day found Marianne in a fury. Madame Ballier had -just told her that she had seen some ripe cherries, and ordered her to -go and purchase some. Marianne had maintained that they were not ripe, -and protested between her teeth that she would not go, flying into a -violent passion, as if she had been thrust out by the shoulders. Louis, -at first, endeavoured to persuade her that it was not very difficult to -try at least to get some cherries; but this only increased Marianne's -anger. Then he said that he was sure Marianne would do difficult things -for his sake, and that he particularly wished for some cherries. -"Nonsense!" said Marianne, "that is only to prevent your aunt from -making an outcry." - -"Yes, Marianne," he replied, smiling, "for fear that my father, who -is on his journey, should hear the noise." Then, gently patting her -on the shoulder, he added, "My good Marianne, you would not wish to -give my father a headache?" Marianne shook her head, told him he was a -wheedler, and went to fetch the cherries. - -Since Louis had given up the idea of employing any but gentle means -in the attainment of his wishes, he discovered a vast number of such -means, which would never otherwise have occurred to him. This evening -he found an opportunity of telling Marianne that the cherries were -excellent, and from this point went on to speak of the pleasure it -would give his mother to find there were so much fewer quarrels in -the house; and Marianne was so pleased at having contributed to this -pacification, that the same evening she placed, of her own accord, the -lamp upon the table, instead of on the mantel-piece, a thing she had -never before consented to do, without having been first scolded about -it by Madame Ballier. - -Time passed, and M. Delong was approaching home, although slowly, -being obliged to travel by short stages, and to rest frequently. They -had now but one week more to wait, and the day before his arrival was -the fête-day of the village in which M. Lebeau's country house was -situated. This fête was a celebrated one in the neighbourhood; there -was a grand fair, dancing in a pretty meadow, games, and boating on the -river. Louis was to pass the day with the Lebeau family, and promised -himself great pleasure, enhanced by the assurance of still greater -happiness, a few days afterwards, on the arrival of his father and -mother. He had spoken of this party to his aunt, and she had consented -to his going, with an expression of vexation which had not escaped -Louis, but the cause of which he had not courage enough to investigate. -He soon perceived, however, that his aunt was herself embarrassed about -going to this fête. Those persons with whom she was most intimate in -the town were absent; others had made up their parties, which she could -not join, or which did not suit her, and during three days she had a -fund of ill-humour, and Louis a feeling of discomfort, for which he -dared not venture to account. At length he confessed to himself, that -if he was ill at ease, it was because he was not performing his duty; -and from this moment the only question was, how to summon resolution -for its performance: a difficult duty is more than half accomplished -when we have once acknowledged its necessity. Yet, to renounce his -engagement with the Lebeau family, and give up his whole day to his -aunt, was a sacrifice which, three weeks before, would never have -entered his mind. But now that the arrival of his mother drew so -near, he was more than ever engrossed with the desire of proving to -her that he had conducted himself well in her absence; and it would -have been vexatious to spoil all his labour by leaving with his aunt -a sufficiently legitimate cause of complaint. Still he hesitated, -grieved at the idea of relinquishing the delightful prospect in view, -but a letter from his mother put an end to his uncertainty. A sensible -amelioration had permitted M. Delong to hasten his journey, and he -was to arrive the day after the fête. Madame Delong at the same time -mentioned to her son her anxiety respecting his conduct to his aunt, -of which the last letters received from her gave but an indifferent -idea. Louis triumphantly smiled to himself at his mother's fears, -and at the happiness he was preparing for her; and, full of these -delightful thoughts, he so vividly transported himself in imagination -to the day of her arrival, that it was easy for him to leap over that -of the fête. He ran to his aunt, who was already informed by letter -of his father's more speedy arrival, and hastened to propose to take -her to the fête with him. When she objected, by saying that he would -have much more amusement with the family of M. Lebeau, he was on the -point of answering "Very well, aunt;" happily, however, he checked -himself in time, and simply replied that he should have great pleasure -in escorting her; and this was quite true; for at this moment all was -pleasure to him. He then went to M. Lebeau, to excuse himself from his -engagement. M. Lebeau was annoyed, and inquired, "How is it that your -aunt can find no one to take charge of her?" - -"All her acquaintances are in the country," replied Louis; "there is -perhaps no one left in town with whom she is so well acquainted as with -yourself." - -"And I am not going to take her, I assure you," said M. Lebeau. - -"That I am quite aware of," said Louis, somewhat offended in his turn; -for he probably thought that a little good-nature on the part of M. -Lebeau would have settled everything satisfactorily. - -"What a pity!" said Eugenia, in a low tone, glancing timidly at her -father: "there is abundance of room in the boat." - -"There is no room for any one but ourselves," said M. Lebeau, hastily, -for he had overheard or guessed what she said: "and suppose it should -upset--do you imagine I want to have to run after Madame Ballier?" - -"There is no question about the matter," said Louis, still more -displeased; "I am going with my aunt." - -"It is the best thing you can do." For the first time M. Lebeau was -offended with Louis, because Louis had placed him in the wrong, and, -for the first time also, Louis found that M. Lebeau was to blame for -his disobliging conduct towards his aunt. - -The next day, he would have set out in a somewhat sad mood, had he -not chanced to notice his mother's room, which had been left open for -the purpose of airing it, as well as his father's, which Marianne had -just been putting in order. This recalled his resolution to make every -thing pleasant to his aunt, who, on her side, was all good humour. -Even Barogo, who, in the transports of his joy, leaped several times -upon her, was allowed to do so without being angrily repulsed. Louis, -compelled at the fête to give his arm to his aunt, who could neither -walk fast nor go far, could not help looking at the various groups of -pedestrians so full of vivacity and mirth. People were hastening to -the river-side, and crowding into boats, in order to go and dine on -an island at a short distance, whence they were to return afterwards -to dance in the meadow. Madame Ballier wished to engage a boat, but -there was not one to be had, nor even a place in one. Louis saw, with a -sigh, that he should be obliged to sacrifice his whole day completely, -and Madame Ballier was herself rather disconcerted, not knowing very -well how to pass the time. At some distance they perceived M. Lebeau, -ready to embark with all his family. Louis observed them without -stirring from his place, till M. Lebeau beckoned to him, when he begged -permission from his aunt to go and speak to him. - -"Have you a boat?" asked M. Lebeau. Louis replied in the negative. -"Confound it!" said M. Lebeau, with a look of annoyance which Louis -very well understood; for his boat would have accommodated half-a-dozen -more persons. - -"Could not your aunt," said M. Lebeau, "join some other party? I see -some of her acquaintance yonder. Then you could join us." Louis could -not forbear looking in the direction pointed out, but immediately -recollecting himself, he replied, "Indeed, Monsieur Lebeau, I could -not think of proposing such a plan to her; you must see yourself that -it would not be right," and he was turning away, but Eugenia held him -gently by his coat. - -"Confound it!" repeated M. Lebeau. He stopped, and then suddenly -resumed, "Well, then, if it cannot be otherwise arranged, bring your -aunt with you; we will try and find a place for her." - -Louis hesitated, not knowing whether he ought to accept the invitation. -"Go, Charles, and propose it to her," said Madame Lebeau, who had long -wished to see an end to the bickerings between her husband and Madame -Ballier; and Eugenia, without waiting for a command, set off with -Charles to invite Madame Ballier to come into their boat, adding, like -a person of discretion as she was, that her mother would herself have -come, had she not to take care of her little sister. Madame Ballier -made a few difficulties, just sufficient to support her dignity; but -Louis came up, took her arm, and cutting short all objections, had no -sooner said, "Come, let us make haste, pray," than they were already -on the way, Madame Ballier walking as fast as she could, and Charles -with Eugenia running and skipping before them with cries of triumph. -The bustle of arrival, and of entering the boat, saved Madame Ballier -the embarrassment of showing either too much eagerness or too much -resentment; and M. Lebeau, in saying to her, "Come, Madame Ballier, -place yourself there, quite at your ease," was not more abrupt in -his manner than he would have been to one whose society was the most -agreeable to him. Madame Lebeau was all kindness and attention, and -Eugenia hastened to place under her feet the board which was laid -across the bottom of the boat, to preserve the ladies from the wet. -Louis, meanwhile, pressed the hand of M. Lebeau, with an expression -which moved him. "Come," said the latter, "you are a good boy; I am -very glad to have given you pleasure;" and off they went. - -The day passed delightfully. They dined on the island. M. Lebeau -exerted himself to amuse Madame Ballier. Madame Ballier was soon in -high spirits, and her gaiety quite accorded with that of M. Lebeau. -On rising from table they were the best friends in the world; and M. -Lebeau said to Louis, "After all, your aunt is at heart a good sort of -woman." "No doubt of it," replied Louis, in a tone which showed that he -would not have the good qualities of his aunt called in question. On -bringing her amongst his friends, he had taken care that his friends -should be agreeable to her. His attentions naturally attracted those -of others, and the kind Eugenia seemed to have no thought but that of -seconding him. As to Madame Ballier, she was good-nature itself; she -remained as late as they wished at the dancing, and scarcely complained -of fatigue on their way home, particularly as Louis took care to say -something laughable, whenever they came to any bad parts in the road. -To crown all, on entering the house, they found a letter announcing the -exact hour at which they might expect their friends the next day; and -Madame Ballier declared that she would herself carry the intelligence -to M. Lebeau, to whom she owed this civility, as he had been so -extremely obliging to her. - -The morning came at last; then noon; then four o'clock; then they heard -the sound of the carriage; then it stopped. How often had they repeated -to themselves that they must restrain their joy to avoid overpowering -the invalid; yet, at the moment the doors were opened, and that they -rushed down stairs, the excitement was so great, that Barogo began to -bark, Robinet took to flight, and Marianne knew not where she was; -but all was hushed at the sight of M. Delong, who, still feeble, and -deprived of the use of his limbs, required support on all sides, and -of Madame Delong, pale and worn out by the sufferings of her husband. -The invalid was carried upstairs so gently that even the steps of -those who bore him were inaudible. They seated him in an easy-chair, -and quietly placed themselves around him. Louis, standing before his -father, sometimes raised his eyes to him, and then cast them down as he -encountered those of his father examining him attentively. His heart -beat, for this first interview with a father who had left him a mere -child and now found him almost a man, was to him a great and imposing -moment. Madame Delong, with a mixture of anxiety and confidence, looked -alternately at her son and at her husband. At length, Madame Ballier, -who willingly translated into words these mute scenes, said to the -colonel,--"I can assure you, nephew, that you have a very amiable son;" -and then addressing herself to Madame Delong; "You cannot imagine, -niece, how much he has improved during your absence." - -Louis eagerly kissed his mother's hand, whose pale features were now -lit up with a flush of joy. This moment convinced her that they had not -ceased to understand each other. - -"Louis," said M. Delong, as he held out his hand to him, "your mother -has told me much good of you; I know she thinks still more, and I am -always disposed to think as she does." Louis, in stooping his head over -his father's hand, half bent one knee in this first act of gratitude -towards a parent whose approbation he so ardently desired. His eyes -then met those of his mother. The necessity of restraining their -feelings rendered them only the more intense. This was a moment which -could never be forgotten. - -M. Lebeau came in, and declared that as soon as the colonel could bear -another removal, he must come and establish himself at his house in the -country, and in the sequel of his speech he included in his invitation -Madame Ballier, who graciously bowed her acquiescence. Madame Delong -looked with astonishment at her son, who smiled, and Madame Ballier -having quitted the apartment; "This wizard, Louis," he said to Madame -Delong, "has absolutely forced me to be on good terms with his aunt;" -then turning to M. Delong, he added--"Colonel, this son of yours will -be a remarkable man; remember, I tell you so." - -How happy was Madame Delong, and with what heartfelt pleasure did -the eyes of Louis meet the delighted looks of his mother, which were -constantly fixed upon him! Nor was their felicity momentary. Louis -found no difficulty in acknowledging to her his faults, because he had -repaired them. He confessed how greatly he had felt relieved since, -instead of seeking out failings in his aunt, he had been engaged in -considering her good qualities, and the respect he owed her of which -he had been too forgetful; for children and young people are not -sufficiently aware of the harm they do, when, even without talking -to others, their thoughts are occupied in examining the defects of -those to whom they owe respect, instead of going backward, like the -children of Noah, to cover them with their mantle. Louis had learnt -by experience, that when we look at things as they really are, it -is almost always possible to find something good in persons of whom -at first we were disposed to think only evil. He gradually attached -himself to his aunt through his desire of pleasing her; and Madame -Ballier, on her side, acquired so strong an affection for him, that she -would not suffer any one to blame him or oppose him in her presence; -and when he found her in dispute with Marianne or Barogo, he had only -to interpose, and all was at an end. This new mode of proceeding has -brought back peace into the domestic circle of Madame Delong, and Louis -continually experiences the advantage of having acquired the power of -self-control, which is the surest means of obtaining influence over -others; for he who advances thoughtfully, observing carefully where he -steps, instead of following his humour and heedlessly rushing into any -mire that may obstruct his path, is sure to become at last the leader -of his party. - -When the Curé had concluded his story, he raised his head, took off his -spectacles, and looking round at the children, said, "Well, now, which -would you rather be,--Madame Ballier or Louis?" - -"Oh! there is no great difficulty in deciding that question," replied -Amadeus. - -"You know, Monsieur le Curé," said Paul, "that everybody would like -better to be an amiable person than one who is not so." - -"I think," remarked Juliana, with her disdainful tone, "it was hardly -worth while to ask such a question." - -"Indeed," said the Curé; "for my part, I thought that there were -persons to be met with occasionally, who would rather not be amiable." - -Juliana shrugged her shoulders, and Amadeus burst into a loud laugh. - -"Ah! that is Juliana," cried Paul, jumping about, and clapping his -hands. - -"By no means," replied the Curé; "for I perceive that Miss Juliana is -displeased when any one appears to think her less amiable than usual, -and this proves that she wishes to be amiable." - -Juliana blushed: she was not sure whether the Curé was speaking in -jest or in earnest, for it was perfectly true that many times when -her ill-humour was over, she felt sorry for having given way to it, -especially in the presence of persons who appeared shocked by it. -"Oh, yes!" said Amadeus, "when she has done any thing foolish she is -so vexed that it makes her immediately do something else just as bad. -Don't you remember this morning, Juliana, throwing your work into -Zemira's porringer, because mamma had rung for you twice whilst you -were busy undoing a knot in your thread?" - -"Yes, and only think! Monsieur le Curé," cried Paul; "she was so -angry--so very angry, at having wetted her work with the water in -the porringer, that when I picked it up to bring it back to her, she -snatched it out of my hands, and scratched my finger so with her -needle." - -And Paul, excited by the recollection of his misfortune, pointed to the -scratch on his finger, whilst Juliana could hardly restrain her tears, -so much was she ashamed and grieved that her fault should be made known -to the Curé. - -"You know very well I did not do it on purpose," she said, in a broken -voice; "but Amadeus is always finding fault with me;" and her tears -began to flow in earnest. - -"Come, calm yourself, my good girl," said the Curé, in an affectionate -tone; "these little folks do not know how vexatious it is to a sensible -young lady to feel that she has not been quite so reasonable as she -ought to have been: but I will teach you how to silence them." - -Juliana shook her head with a sigh. - -"You shall hear my story," added the Curé, "which shall be for you -alone, and we will afterwards discuss the matter." - -The next day the Curé brought the following tale, which he read to -Juliana in private, because he perceived, that as she was growing -up, the best way of gaining her confidence was to avoid wounding her -self-love, more especially in the presence of her brothers, who, in -this case, especially, would not have failed to draw comparisons -extremely disagreeable to her. - - -THE PRINCESS. - -"This is really insupportable," said Adela, walking, in a hurried -manner, from the window overlooking the court, to the terrace which led -into the garden. - -"What is the matter?" said her mother, who entered at the moment and -overheard her. - -"Why, you see, mamma," replied Adela, a little confused, "it is past -ten o'clock,--(it was five minutes over the hour,)--and papa is not -returned from hunting. We shall never get our breakfast." - -"Do you think so? that would be very unfortunate, certainly." - -"But papa said he would be back by ten o'clock." - -"Certainly, five minutes longer are too much to be endured." - -"Mamma! I am hungry." - -"Well, my dear, you are not obliged to wait for our breakfast; the -bread is upon the table, you can take as much as you please; it is -surely better to breakfast upon dry bread than bear any longer what is -_insupportable_." - -Adela made no reply; for she must have confessed that although she was -hungry enough to complain, she was not hungry enough to breakfast on -dry bread, which would have been a proof that she was complaining about -a mere trifle. This was Adela's chief defect. The least disappointment -appeared to her, to use her habitual expression, insupportable. For the -slightest indisposition or hurt, she would lament, disturb everybody, -and require to be pitied,--not that she so much feared pain, but that -whatever incommoded or put her the least out of her way, seemed to -her the most grievous and extraordinary thing possible. She must be -attended to at the very moment appointed, even things that did not -depend on any one must fall out precisely as she desired, or all was -wrong. Her nurse used to laugh at her, and say that it was very wrong -of the rain to come on the day she wished to go out; for it seemed, -in fact, as if every thing must happen so as to suit her convenience -and fancy; nor did she seem able to bear the consequences even of what -she had most desired, as soon as they occasioned her the slightest -inconvenience. Thus, for example, she would take a long walk, and as -soon as she began to feel fatigued, she would complain as if others -were in fault. She would repeat fifty times over, "This tiresome -château will never come," for she seemed almost to believe that the -château ought to come to her. She considered herself much aggrieved -when her mother would not permit her to hang on her arm, or lean on her -sister's shoulder; for her only concern was for herself. Thus she could -not conceive why they should do without the carriage when the horses -were engaged in helping to bring home the hay; or why her nurse was -not ready to dress her, when she had been sent out on a message to the -village. Her little sister Amelia would sometimes say, "Adela is always -sure of having some one to love her, for she loves herself so well." - -This remark Amelia had probably heard from some of the servants, for -those even who were attached to Adela, in consequence of the kindness -of her parents, were so provoked by her ill-humour and exacting -disposition, that they lost no opportunity of laughing at her expense. -Her mother endeavoured to make her feel the absurdity of her conduct, -and when she heard her complain of some trifling inconvenience, as for -example, of being obliged to fetch her bonnet, which Amelia had taken -up stairs to their room, by mistake, she said to her: - -"Adela, does it hurt your feet to walk up stairs to your room?" - -"No, mamma; but----" - -"Or perhaps you are afraid of meeting by the way a wolf that will eat -you up?" - -Adela would have shrugged her shoulders if she had dared. - -"Surely, my dear, it must cause you some great pain, otherwise you -would not be so displeased about the matter." - -"But, mamma! it puts me out of the way." - -"And does it hurt you to be put out of the way?" - -"I don't like it." - -"Why not, if it does you no harm?" - -Adela could find nothing more to say, excepting that "Amelia might -have spared herself the trouble of taking it up stairs." Then Madame -de Vaucourt would no longer listen to her; she merely took care that -no one should suffer from her ill-humour, or pay any attention to -it. However, it often happened that the servants, in order to get -rid of her, did immediately what she required, and little Amelia -who loved above all things to laugh and be merry, and who hated to -hear complaints, was extremely afraid of doing any thing that might -displease her sister. - -Monsieur and Madame de Vaucourt saw very little society in the country. -It happened, however, that a Polish Princess, with whom they had been -formerly acquainted, having arrived in Paris, sent them word that she -would come and spend a week with them. At this news the children were -in the greatest commotion. Adela, like most little girls, imagined that -a princess must be a very extraordinary personage, and Amelia could -not picture her otherwise than in dresses embroidered with gold. Adela -had no doubt that her mother would order a new bonnet for her on the -occasion, and inquired how she was to dress during the princess' visit. -She was astonished when her mother, laughing at her, told her she was -to dress just as usual. "What, mamma! even in my common cambric frock -for the morning?" Her mother assured her that she saw nothing in her -dress that required change. This time Adela was indeed out of humour; -she was seriously grieved even, but she dared not show her feelings, -because she saw that she should be laughed at. However, during the -whole week which preceded the arrival of the princess, she was more -than ever inclined to indulge in her habitual complaints, crying out, -whenever any one came near her, that they would soil her dress, and -screaming aloud if a drop of rain touched her bonnet. Little Amelia -said it was because she was afraid it would not be nice enough for the -arrival of the princess, and also remarked that her sister, who could -never be persuaded to put on a pair of shoes in the least worn down at -heel, pretending that she could not walk in them, during this whole -week wore none but old shoes, in order to keep the new ones for the -arrival of the princess. - -At last the princess came. The little girls, who were upon the terrace, -were greatly astonished to find her dressed much in the same style as -their mamma, but then she had a coat of arms on her carriage, and the -liveries of her servants were richly laced; this greatly impressed -Adela, who had besides been so long prepared to consider her as a -person of great importance, that she could not give up the idea she -had formed. When therefore little Stanislas, the son of the princess, -trod on her foot, in coming up the steps, Adela, for the first time in -her life, bore the accident without a murmur. Nay, more, for when her -sister happened accidentally to strike her elbow in passing quickly -into the drawing-room after the princess, in order to obtain a better -view of her, Adela opened her lips to complain, but immediately checked -herself, on finding that the princess looked round at the moment. - -Scarcely had they entered the room when the princess' little dog -put its paws into Adela's work-basket, threw down her thimble, her -scissors, and needle-case, and scampered about the room, carrying her -work in his mouth, and shaking it about his ears. Amelia screamed. -On ordinary occasions such a misfortune would have been a subject of -distress and lamentation for an hour, but Adela did not give way to -anger. She picked up all her things, ran after the dog, but not too -hastily, for fear of appearing out of temper, and although when she at -last caught him, she was quite crimson with impatience, she did not say -a single word to Stanislas, who was laughing heartily at the trouble -she had to get back her work. Stanislas asked to go into the garden, -and upon Madame de Vaucourt's desiring her daughters to accompany him, -Adela did not begin by replying that he could go very well by himself. -When in the garden, Stanislas, who was a spoiled child, threw sand into -her shoes, without her uttering a complaint, and on her return to the -drawing-room the first thing he did was to seat himself in the chair -which she had appropriated to herself, and which was a continual source -of disputes between her and her sister, whom she would never allow to -sit in it, except by Madame de Vaucourt's express command. Amelia, -who began to be on familiar terms with Stanislas, pulled him by the -arm, saying, "Come away, that is my sister's chair," and Adela, quite -ashamed, touched her sister's arm, and whispered to her to mind her own -business. - -"But he is upon your chair," said Amelia. - -"What is that to you?" - -"Oh! very well, then I shall sit there after him;" and as soon as -Stanislas quitted the chair, she took possession of it, while Adela, -in the presence of the princess, did not even think of preventing her. -Amelia soon left the chair, to run and take from Stanislas her sister's -draught-board, which he was preparing to open. "I want to play with the -draughts," cried the little fellow, while Amelia exclaimed in return, -"But my sister will not let any one touch them." Adela, quite alarmed -at the idea the princess might form of her, hastened to take the -draught-board from the hands of Amelia and gave it to Stanislas. - -"Very well, then, I shall play with them too," said Amelia. Stanislas -began to roll the draughts about on the floor. Amelia at first tried -to check him, and then began rolling them still faster herself. When -he was tired of playing with them, she wished to persuade him to put -them away in order, but he dragged her to the garden, and called out -from the door, that they must leave the draughts where they were, as -he meant to come back and play with them again. The next day two of -them were missing. Amelia came to tell the news, looking terribly -frightened, and as no one seemed to listen with much attention, she -said, "But they belong to my sister's draught-board?" - -"What does that signify?" said Adela quickly. - -"Ah! if I had lost them!" said Amelia: but a sign from her sister -imposed silence on her. - -"Adela seems very gentle and sensible," observed the princess. Adela -cast down her eyes, not daring to look at her mother or sister. - -All this lasted several days. At table, Madame de Vaucourt's old -servant, who was not very alert, and had more to do than usual, could -not wait on Adela as attentively as on other occasions, and was -surprised not to hear her say sharply, "Chambéri, do you not mean -to give me a plate?" He remarked to her, "Gracious! Miss Adela, how -gentle and well-behaved you have become lately!" "That is because -she is afraid of the princess," said the mischievous little Amelia, -laughing. Adela, who began to lose patience, was sometimes on the point -of forgetting herself, but Amelia would then take flight and run into -the drawing-room, laughing, as she knew that Adela would not venture -to scold her there, while Stanislas, of whom she had made an intimate -friend, joined in her laughter without understanding its cause. Adela, -though burning with impatience, endeavoured to smile lest some -indiscretion on Amelia's part might betray to others the cause of her -ill-humour. Her temper, however, would have obtained the mastery at -last; and she was beginning sometimes to treat Stanislas and the little -dog rather harshly, when, fortunately, the princess took her departure. -For the first few days afterwards the effect of the habit which Adela -had acquired of restraining her temper was still visible; but as Amelia -had also got the habit of fearing her less, and laughing at her, it -was not long before the old disputes were renewed. They first began -about the chair, which Amelia took without ceremony, even removing her -sister's work, which had been left there, as if to keep the place in -her absence. - -Adela became angry. "I thought that fancy was over?" said Madame de -Vaucourt. - -"Oh, mamma," replied Amelia, "that was only on account of the princess." - -Madame de Vaucourt observed that Adela must have felt there was -something very absurd in such childishness, since she was ashamed to -show it before the princess; and she hoped, therefore, that they should -hear no more of it. The argument was unanswerable, and besides Madame -de Vaucourt's tone forbade reply. Adela therefore contented herself -with leaving the room, slamming the door with all her might. Her mother -called her back. - -"My dear," she said, "when the princess was here you used to shut the -doors gently, and as that proves to me that you can do so without great -inconvenience, I beg you will do it in future." - -Thus obliged to close the door quietly, Adela went into the garden to -exhale her ill-temper, since she saw that it was now determined to -allow no excuse for it. During their evening walk, it happened that the -path they had to take was very dirty. Adela said it was insupportable. - -"Surely," replied her mother, "you do not mean to let that disturb you? -The other day when we were walking with the princess, the mud was ten -times as bad, yet you never made the least complaint." - -"I found it very disagreeable though." - -"Why then did you not complain?" - -"It was not necessary." - -"And is it necessary to-day?" - -"Must one never say a word then about what is unpleasant?" replied -Adela in a very impatient tone. - -"I would ask you that question, my dear; you best know the reasons -which induced you to refrain from murmuring whilst the princess was -present." - -After some reflection, Adela could find nothing better to say than that -her mother had enjoined her to behave well before strangers. Madame -de Vaucourt observed that she had enjoined her to behave well at all -times. "But," she added, "since you think you ought to refrain from -complaints in order to maintain a proper appearance before strangers, -why did you, when you cut yourself the other day, whilst the princess -was present, say that you were hurt, and hold your finger in water, and -then keep it wrapped up in a handkerchief for an hour?" - -"But, mamma, it pained me very much." - -"You believe then that one may complain before strangers of things -which give real pain? Suppose now that you had received a letter from -the school, saying that your brother was ill, would you not have -thought it allowable to show your grief on such an occasion before the -princess?" - -"Yes, indeed, mamma," replied Adela quickly. - -"You see then that when we suffer real evils we may complain of them -before strangers, it is only when things are too trifling to deserve -notice, that it is ridiculous to make complaints in their presence, and -since they do not deserve notice, it is just as ridiculous to complain -of them when strangers are not present." - -Adela might not perhaps have been convinced by this reasoning, but -thenceforth whenever she said that anything was _insupportable_, her -mother replied, "You did not find it so when the princess was here." -Nor would Amelia suffer herself to be harshly treated without talking -of the princess: even Chambéri, if Adela scolded him, would say, "Ah! -Miss Adela, I see we want the princess here again." Adela began to be -terribly annoyed with this raillery; then she got frightened, lest from -its being so often repeated it might at last reach the ears of the -princess; so that to avoid these constant allusions to her name, she -endeavoured to be less impatient. When she had once become convinced -that it was possible to repress her angry feelings, she found it was -easy to do so; she perceived that three fourths of the things which -vexed her, were in reality of no consequence to her, and that the only -real harm she experienced from them, was that which she inflicted -on herself by losing her temper. Some years afterwards, she saw the -princess again, and could not help blushing a little when she thought -of all the taunts which her first visit had brought upon her; but these -things were now forgotten by her friends, for Adela had ceased to be a -grumbler. - - * * * * * - -"Well!" said the Curé to Juliana, when he had finished his story. "What -do you think of it?" - -"I think," replied Juliana, a little discontented, "that she was a very -ridiculous girl with her princess." - -"What! ridiculous for correcting herself?" - -"No, but for doing so on account of the princess." - -"When we correct our faults it must be for some motive." - -"There are many more important motives," said Juliana a little proudly, -"which ought to have induced her to correct herself." - -"Since you are so well acquainted with these things, Miss Juliana, let -me know them," said the Curé, "and we will make a story about them." - -"A story?" asked Juliana, uncertain whether to laugh or be offended. - -"Certainly: I shall begin it from the point where Miss Juliana made the -discovery that there were many good reasons for inducing her to correct -her faults, and I shall terminate it by saying--Miss Juliana, whose -only serious fault was that of losing her temper when anything was -disagreeable to her, corrected herself completely, and became a most -amiable young lady." - -At this moment, the two little boys, quite disappointed that the -Curé would not admit them to his conversation with Juliana, came to -teaze him to tell them at least the story. "You shall hear it," he -said, "when you have quite left off tormenting your sister," for in -correcting Juliana he would not encourage bad habits in her brothers; -then turning towards her, "you know now, Miss Juliana, what you have to -do in order to silence them." - -"That will not be giving them much trouble, at all events," said -Juliana. - -"But who will have the advantage?" said the Curé; and Juliana appeared -pleased at the idea of being some day free from a defect which made her -pass many unhappy moments; besides she felt touched and flattered by -the pains which the Curé took to be useful to her. - -It began to rain; Juliana, whose bonnet was almost new, was anxious to -return to the house; but before they could reach it they had to cross -a large flower garden, and in an instant the shower became so violent -that it was impossible to escape it. Juliana, in running, caught in -some trellis work, which tore her dress and threw her down. The Curé, -though not running, came up however in time to assist her in rising, -and thinking her much disposed to be angry, said to her, "Providence -has soon given you an opportunity, Miss Juliana, of introducing a fine -passage into our story." - -Juliana had sufficient command over herself to make no reply, and that -was a great deal for her, as besides spoiling her bonnet, and tearing -her frock, she was covered with dirt from head to foot, and had also -hurt her knee in her fall. The Curé gave her his arm to assist her -to the house, and she might have remarked that although by touching -her he had soiled the sleeve and skirt of his coat, and that on their -way she had accidentally splashed some water into his shoe and almost -filled it, he did not show the slightest mark of displeasure. When, -however, they entered the drawing-room, and Zemira came jumping upon -her to testify his joy at seeing her again, she was very near giving -him a kick, but she checked herself, and the Curé who observed this, -said to her, "I shall write on my tablets that Zemira did _not_ receive -a kick." If Juliana smiled, it was perhaps against her will, and her -brothers, who now entered and began laughing when they saw the plight -she was in, would no doubt have felt the weight of her long repressed -vexation, if the Curé had not said, "I perceive, Miss Juliana, that -these little rogues will not deserve to hear the story of the princess, -till you have succeeded in curing them of their faults." Juliana made -her escape to her own room, where she changed her dress, not, it is -suspected, without more than once showing her impatience to her nurse, -who was eagerly busied in assisting her. At all events it is certain -that when she came down stairs, and her mother had complimented her on -the patience with which she had endured her accident, Juliana could not -help blushing. - -From that day forward, whenever the Curé came to the château, he asked -Juliana if there was anything to be added to the story; sometimes -Juliana shook her head, having nothing good to relate; at others, -she would smile, because she felt satisfied with herself. On such -occasions, she liked to converse with the Curé about the temptations -to which she had been exposed; but in recounting them she found them -far less serious than they had appeared at the time, and felt more -completely how foolish it would have been to have yielded to them. -This confirmed her in her good resolutions; and she was further -confirmed in them by the satisfaction which her friends testified -in her improvement. She afterwards went with her parents to Paris, -and remained there three years; during which time she kept up a -regular correspondence with the Curé of Chavignat. On her return -she was seventeen, and felt happy in the thought that he would find -her cured of her childish fault. Amadeus, instead of teazing, now -treated her with respect, for she no longer scolded him unjustly; -he was consequently accustomed to listen to her when she warned him -gently of any fault. Neither did she make any difficulty in relating -to him the story of the princess; and Amadeus, when talking of it to -the Curé on the day of his return, said, "At all events Juliana was -never so disagreeable as that;" and the good Curé rejoiced to find -that Juliana's defects were so well concealed that they had even been -forgotten. During this time Juliana was looking for her bag, which she -had mislaid, and although it was half-an-hour before she could find -it, and Paul was all the while tormenting her with a thousand childish -tricks, she was not in the least put out of temper. - -"Since my story is so well ended, Miss Juliana," said the Curé, when -she had found her bag, "pray inform me how you have managed to bring -things to so satisfactory a conclusion." - -Juliana blushed and smiled as she replied, "By being always, thanks to -you, Monsieur le Curé, so full of the desire of being reasonable, that -it drove out of my head whatever might have prevented me from keeping -my resolution." - - - - -THE DOUBLE VOW. - - -Henry was a youth of fifteen, which is as much as to say that he had -good intentions, but did not always carry them out in practice. He -loved his father and his tutor, but he loved his pleasures still more; -he would have done anything to make them happy, but he did not give -them the greatest of all happiness, that of seeing him docile and -well-conducted. The impetuosity of his disposition often drew from -those he loved bitter tears, which in the end made his own flow. His -life was thus divided between faults and repentance; and his good -intentions were so continually rendered useless by reprehensible -actions, that his friends at last gave up all hopes of his amendment. -His father, the Count of A----, was constantly thinking, with -increasing anxiety, of the time when Henry must leave him to enter -the university, or to travel. The paths of vice would then present -themselves to him under the most seductive aspects, and there would no -longer be the hand of a father to restrain or his voice to call him -back; he might fall deeper and deeper into error, and return to the -paternal mansion with a heart corrupted, despoiled of its purity and -elevation, and incapable even of that feeling which is at least the -reflection of virtue--repentance. - -The count was of a mild but feeble character, and his health was -delicate; the death of the countess, his wife, had mined beneath -his feet the ground on which he rested. Henry, on the return of his -father's birthday, fancied that he could hear a secret voice saying -to him, "The fragile layer of earth which bears thy father, and -separates him from thy mother's ashes, will soon crumble away, and he -will disappear from thy view without carrying with him to the tomb the -hope of thy amendment." This day he shed burning tears; but what avail -tears and softened feelings when they do not produce amendment? He -went into the park where stood the tomb of his mother, together with -the empty sepulchre which, during an illness, his father had caused to -be constructed for himself. There, he made a solemn vow to combat the -violence of his temper and his love of pleasure; but, alas! I should -too deeply grieve my young readers were I to relate in detail how only -a few days before that appointed for his going to the university, he -was guilty of a fault which cruelly pierced the heart of his unhappy -father, already so deeply wounded. The count fell ill, and was confined -to his bed without being able to flatter himself with the hope that he -might witness the return of his son to virtue, before he was called -upon to exchange his melancholy couch for the bed of stone which -awaited him in the park. - -I will not then describe to you either the fault or the regret of -Henry; but in passing a severe judgment on his errors you may as well -extend it also to those of which at any time you may yourselves have -been guilty. What child can approach the dying bed of his parents, -without saying to himself, "Alas! if I have not deprived them of whole -years of life, who knows by how many weeks or days I may not have -shortened their term? I may perhaps have added to the sufferings which -now I would so gladly have mitigated, and my follies may have closed -before their time those eyes which, but for me, might still enjoy the -light of day!" It is because the fatal consequences of our faults -are concealed from view that reckless mortals are so bold in the -commission of crimes: man gives free scope to the ungoverned desires -of his heart, as he might let loose a set of ferocious animals; he -permits them under favour of the darkness to wander amongst mankind; -but he sees not how many innocent people are wounded or torn to pieces: -he madly flings around him burning brands, lighted by guilty passions, -and when he has already sunk into the tomb, the neighbouring houses on -which the fatal spark has alighted, burst into flames, and the dense -column of smoke hovers over the place of his repose like a monument -raised to his shame. - -Henry, when all hope of recovery was at an end, could no longer support -the melancholy and care-worn aspect of his father: he remained in -the adjacent chamber, and there, whilst the count's ebbing life was -struggling against repeated fainting-fits, he addressed his silent -prayers to Heaven, closed his eyes to the future, and dreaded, like the -explosion of a terrible shell, those first awful words, "_He is dead._" -The time, however, came when he must present himself before his father, -take leave of him, receive his forgiveness, and give him his promise of -amendment. - -Alone in the apartment adjoining that of the invalid, he had roused -himself from a long and painful stupor: he listened, and heard only -the voice of his aged tutor, who had been his father's preceptor -also, and who, now seeing the approach of the shadows of death, gave -him his blessing in these words: "Go calmly to thy sleep, virtuous -soul! May all thy good actions, all thy promises fulfilled, all thy -pious thoughts, be gathered around thee at the close of life, as the -beautiful clouds of evening gather round the sun when sinking in the -west! Smile once more if you can hear my words, and if your dying -heart has still the power of feeling." The invalid made an effort to -rouse himself from the heavy sleep of his swoon, but he did not smile, -for, in the confusion of his senses, he had mistaken the voice of -his preceptor for that of his son. "Henry," he stammered in imperfect -accents, "I cannot see you, but I hear you. Lay your hand on my heart, -and solemnly promise me that you will become virtuous." Henry rushed -forward to make this promise, but the preceptor had already placed his -hand on the fluttering heart of the father, and, with a sign to the -son, said, in a low voice, "I promise for you." The heart of the count -was still beating with that slow and languid motion which announces the -near extinction of life; he neither heard the vow, nor the friends who -surrounded him. - -Henry, sinking under this heart-rending scene, and trembling for that -which must succeed it, resolved to quit the château, and not return -till the most agonizing hours of his affliction should have passed -away, but he felt that this amendment must not commence by a secret -flight. He therefore announced to his preceptor, "that he could no -longer support this dreadful sight, but that he would return in a -week," and then he added, in a voice choked with grief, "I shall still -find a father here." He embraced him, told him where he meant to -seclude himself, and left the house. - -With faltering steps he traversed the park. He perceived the two -white sepulchres visible through the trees, and approached them. Not -daring to touch the yet empty tomb beneath which his father was to -repose, he leaned against the one which covered a heart which he had -not broken, that of his mother, whom he had lost many years before. On -that mother's tomb, and in the presence of God, he renewed his vow of -amendment. - -Every step he took brought back the memory of his errors; a child led -by his father, a pit, a fading leaf, the sound of a church-bell, all -awakened the most painful recollections. - -He reached the place of his retreat, but after four days of remorse, of -tears and of anguish, he felt that he ought to return to the château, -and prove the sincerity of his regret for the loss of his father by -imitating his virtues. The most noble commemoration that man can offer -to those whom he has loved, and whose loss he deplores, is to dry the -tears of those who suffer;--a series of good works is the fairest -garland that can be suspended over their tombs. - -Henry again turned his steps homewards: it was evening when he crossed -the park; and the dusky pyramid which surmounted his father's tomb -looked through the trees, like one of those grey clouds which float -in the azure sky, over the blackened ruins of a village destroyed by -fire. Henry stopped: he leaned his head against the cold marble, his -face bathed with tears, but there was no gentle voice to bid him "be -consoled." No father there to show his affection by tenderly repeating, -"I pardon thee." The rustling of the leaves sounded to him as a murmur -of anger, and the obscurity of the evening chilled him with the terror -of some horrible gloom. However, he recovered himself, and renewed in -these words the vow which his tutor had pronounced in his name: "Oh! -father! dear father! Do you hear your poor child who is weeping over -your grave? Look at me; on my knees I implore your forgiveness, I -promise to fulfil the vow which my tutor pronounced for me upon your -dying heart. Oh father! father!"--here grief stifled his voice--"will -you not give your child some token of your forgiveness!" - -A rustling among the leaves was audible, a figure slowly advancing put -aside the branches, and said, "I have pardoned you." It was his father! -That which is intermediate between sleep and death, a deep swoon, had -restored him to life by throwing him into a salutary lethargy. It was -the first time he had been out, and he came, accompanied by his ancient -preceptor, to offer his thanks on his tomb. Tender father! if thou -hadst indeed passed into another world, thy heart could not thus have -throbbed with joy, nor thine eyes shed tears of happiness, on the -return of a penitent son who came to cast at thy feet a regenerate man! - -I cannot draw the curtain over this affecting scene, without addressing -one important question to my young readers. Are you still so happy as -to possess a father and a mother, to whom you may afford inexpressible -joy by your affection and your good conduct? Ah! if any one of you has -hitherto neglected to procure them this felicity, I will take upon me -the office of a conscience which cannot fail some day to awaken, and I -tell him that a time will come when nothing can afford him consolation -if he has to say to himself, "They loved me above all things, yet I -have seen them expire without having given them the happiness of being -able to say, My child is virtuous." - - - - -POOR JOSÉ. - - -On the 15th of May, 1801, an honest, but wretched woman breathed her -last, in a garret of one of the highest houses in the Rue Saint-Honoré. -She was still young; but misery more than sickness had rendered her -condition hopeless. Stretched, since the morning, without food, upon a -bed of straw, her strength was nearly exhausted; and she already was -speechless, when the cries of her only child, a boy of about six years -of age, attracted the neighbours, as well as the portress of the house. -Their assistance, however, was of no avail. The poor creature expired -without having the power to utter a single word, and her eyes closed in -death while still fixed upon her child, whose tears had already ceased -to flow on beholding himself thus surrounded. The portress took him in -her arms, and kissed him. "Poor little José!" she said. "Poor José!" -repeated the neighbours, and taking the child, they left the garret, -to go and consult with Dame Robert, a shoemaker, and owner of a shop -six feet square, attached to the same house. She was the friend and -adviser of all who lived near her: the most trifling circumstances were -referred to her superior judgment, and, in the present embarrassment, -it was to her that the neighbours turned to decide on the fate of -the unfortunate orphan. Before revealing the result of this noisy -conference, we will relate in a few words the melancholy, but too -common history, of the parents of poor José. - -His father, a native of Annecy, in Savoy, was named Joseph Berr, -or José, according to the _patois_ of the province. The name, thus -corrupted, is so common in that part of the country, that, if ignorant -of a man's name, one may call him José, without being often wrong; and, -under all circumstances, the appellation is received with pleasure. -José Berr, then, possessed the usual qualities of his countrymen; he -was honest, intelligent, and energetic. He had lately married, and not -finding sufficient work to maintain his little family in comfort, he, -like many other ignorant people, committed the folly of going to settle -in Paris, after having expended in a long and wearisome journey, one -half of his little store. The simple-hearted Berr firmly believed that -he should make his fortune; but he soon found that, if a large city -does offer great resources, there are also obstacles to be met with on -all sides. He wished to station himself at the corner of a street, to -do porter's work, but he found the ground already occupied by rivals, -who determined to beat him off the field. They would have nothing to -say to the new comer, and it was not until he had expended what was -to him a considerable sum, in treating the whole party at a tavern, -that he obtained the honour of being admitted into their fraternity. -But as, at the corner of almost every street, companies of porters -are to be met with, similar to the one into which Berr was received, -the profits, consequently, were very trifling, while living in Paris -is very dear. His wife, on her side, endeavoured to work, but having -neither acquaintances nor patrons, and obliged, moreover, to take care -of little José, who was just born, she earned still less than her -husband. For some years, this unfortunate family thus struggled against -poverty, Berr often repenting that he had left his native town, where, -if he did not earn much, he was at least sure of being employed and -assisted. Finally, at the close of a severe winter, during which he had -made redoubled efforts to obtain a subsistence for his wife and child, -Berr was seized with inflammation of the chest, and died in four days' -time for want of proper care. From that moment, his wife languished, -and unable to endure this loss, and the privations of all kinds which -were hourly increasing, she terminated her miserable existence, as we -have already seen. - -In the meantime, the council of neighbours, assembled at Dame Robert's, -deliberated, without coming to any conclusion, upon the fate of little -José, who, without troubling himself as to the future, was quietly -sleeping in the shoemaker's shop. The charity and the means of most -of these women were about sufficient to make them willing to keep the -child for a week, but not longer. One had a large family, another was -in service. A moment's silence ensued; then a voice uttered the word -"Workhouse." "The workhouse!" exclaimed Dame Robert, with indignation. -"Send this poor little innocent, the only child of these worthy people -to the workhouse! No, you shall not go to the workhouse, my little -cherub," she continued, taking up the sleeping José; "I have five -children of my own, but you shall share their bread, even if I have to -work an hour more morning and evening, I will take care of you until -you can provide for yourself; and God will help me." - -The idea of the workhouse, so distressing to the poor, had greatly -excited Dame Robert, but the kindness of her heart soon confirmed her -generous promise. Left alone with the child, after being overwhelmed -with praise by her neighbours, who envied her the good action, which -they had not themselves courage to perform, she laid the little orphan -in the same bed with her own boys, and retired to rest with the -satisfaction of having done her duty. - -The good done by the poor is more meritorious, and requires more -self-denial, than that done by others; for their charity is always at -the expense of necessaries, while that of the rich takes from nothing -but their superfluity. Dame Robert had recently become a widow. Her -small business was tolerably flourishing; but to suffice for the -maintenance of a sixth child, she made it a rule to work, as she had -said, an hour longer morning and evening. This was a great deal for -her, who, with the care of her six children, her work and her business, -could only obtain these two additional hours by taking them from her -time of rest. - -The produce of this surplus labour was amply sufficient for the -maintenance of a child so young as José; besides, Dame Robert was not -a woman to spoil him any more than the rest, for all her kindness of -heart did not prevent her from displaying the roughness of manner -so common to her class; his share of potatoes was the same as those -of the two younger children; he occupied the small space left in -the poor bed provided for them; and when the six little rogues made -too much noise, broke anything, or drank the milk of Dame Robert's -favourite cat, the reproofs and thumps which followed these misdeeds -were equally distributed between José and his adopted brothers. As -to the rest, Providence seemed willing to reward the good shoemaker -for her humanity. The labour of the two additional hours was scarcely -sufficient to satisfy her numerous customers; and, as she herself -observed to her neighbours, who were astonished at her constant -cheerfulness, "I laugh to see the people passing and repassing in such -a hurry, little thinking that by wearing out their shoes they are -helping to make my pot boil." - -José was beloved by all his little comrades on account of his gentle -and obliging disposition; but he was more especially the friend of -Philip, the youngest of Dame Robert's children. Somewhat older than -José, Philip protected him in their quarrels, gave him the best of -everything, and became seriously angry whenever any one called him the -little Savoyard, this appellation appearing to him insulting, without -his very well knowing why. However, as the children grew older, Philip -had no longer any need of exerting his influence for the protection -of José. The intelligence of the latter had developed so much, and -rendered him so far superior to his young friends, that he assumed -over them that kind of ascendancy which the grossest minds cannot -refuse to superior intellect, when it does not interfere with their own -self-respect. - -José had just attained his eighth year; he was small for his age, but -strong and active. Dame Robert had neither the means nor the capacity -to bestow upon him any education beyond some notions of religion, -rather limited, it is true, but still sufficient for his age. The whole -moral code of this worthy woman was contained in these four sentences, -which she was incessantly repeating to her children, and which they -always beheld her put in practice:-- - -"Be thankful to God for the bread he gives you. - -"Never tell a lie, even to gain your bread. - -"Earn your bread honestly, otherwise it will profit you nothing. - -"When you are grown up, return to your father and mother the bread they -have given to you." - -It may be seen, that if Dame Robert was not possessed of much -eloquence, the principles which guided her conduct were just and -solid, and that their correct application was sufficient to direct her -children in the narrow path they were destined to tread. - -"Now, my boy!" she said, one Sunday morning, taking José upon her -knees, "we have something besides sport to think about to-day; you are -now eight years old, and you may, in your turn, begin to assist me as I -have assisted you. There are no idlers with Dame Robert. My eldest boys -have begun their apprenticeship; Philip goes of my errands; and of you -I intend to make a little shoe-black, who will bring home every night -the pence he has earned in the day. See! here is the little box I have -bought for you." - -José was enchanted at these words. How delightful to be able, at his -age, to earn money, to be useful to his kind mother; for the tenderness -of his little heart made him already feel this joy. It must also be -owned, that the seductive idea of being almost his own master, and of -being able to go through a few streets when executing commissions, -delighted him beyond measure, and made him eagerly accept Dame Robert's -plan; and he immediately ran to admire his little shoe-cleaning -apparatus. Nothing had been forgotten; the box, two hard brushes, -two soft brushes, a little knife, some blacking, some spirit for the -tops of the boots, a supply of rags, and a vessel to contain water; -these articles comprised the whole of José's new possessions. They -were looked at, touched, and turned about, not only by himself, but by -the other children also; while José, impatient to make use of them at -once, wanted to clean all the dirty shoes in the house, and Dame Robert -decided, if he succeeded in this his first attempt, that he should -the next day be established sole master of his brushes, on the grand -Place du Musée. José, full of zeal, immediately set to work, aided -by the advice of his brothers and sisters. The first pair turned out -badly: José cut the strings; at the second attempt he gave his hand a -great scratch, but this only proved that his knife was good, so he did -not cry. Finally, he succeeded very well with the third pair, better -with the next, and still better with the succeeding one; so that, -when he came to Philip's shoes, which he intentionally reserved till -the last, the young novice executed what the apprentices term their -_masterpiece_, and it was therefore decided that he might exercise his -talents in public. - -It was with difficulty that José closed his eyes that night, and when -he did sleep he beheld in his dreams more than one passer-by stop -before him to require the exercise of his skill. As I have already -said, Dame Robert lived in the Rue Saint-Honoré, near the corner of -the Rue Froidmanteau; and, although but a short time has elapsed since -the period at which little José commenced his labours, this part of -Paris then bore no resemblance to what it is at the present day. The -wide and handsome street leading from the Carrousel to the Place du -Musée did not then exist, and the Place du Musée itself terminated -in a rapid descent at the end of the Rue Froidmanteau, while this -narrow, low, and always dirty street was almost the only thoroughfare -leading to the Louvre in this direction. Nevertheless it was the one -usually taken by the artists who were attracted either by business or -pleasure to the Palace of the Louvre, in which at that time, as now, -the exhibition of pictures was held, and in which, moreover, were -situated the free academy for drawing, the rooms for the exhibition of -prize pictures, both of which have been removed elsewhere, as well as -the studios of a great number of painters then situated in the immense -wing which extends from the Pont-des-Arts to the Pont-Royal. Dame -Robert, in her tender solicitude for José, and wishing also to justify -her reputation for prudence, had carefully examined all the localities -I have mentioned; the inevitable mud which every foot-passenger must -necessarily collect in crossing the Rue Froidmanteau, first suggested -to her the idea of the useful establishment, of which José was to be -the founder, and having with joy discovered that no rival in this -department had yet thought of taking advantage of so favourable a site, -she hastened, as we have already seen, to inform her adopted son of his -new destination. - -On the Monday morning, therefore, José commenced his new career. The -whole of the little family was awake at an early hour, anxious to -accompany and install José in the situation indicated by Dame Robert, -who herself carried the neat little box, while each of the children -took possession of one of the utensils. José alone, as the hero of -the day, carried nothing; he marched proudly at the head of the merry -troop, and never did conqueror take possession of a kingdom with -greater satisfaction than was experienced by the little Savoyard, when -he established his apparatus in a hollow, some feet in depth, faced by -two enormous posts, between which José appeared as in a fortress. Dame -Robert, after having strongly cautioned him not to leave his post, and -not to eat up at once his provisions for the day, which she had given -to him in a little basket, at length made up her mind to leave him, -and went away, accompanied by the other children, though not without -often looking back. Having reached the end of the Place du Musée, she -once more turned round, and saw, with infinite satisfaction, that José -was already engaged in cleaning some boots, which a lazy servant had -brought to him, in order to save himself the trouble of doing them. -With a contented heart, the good woman then redoubled her speed, and -returned home to resume her ordinary occupations; but the image of José -frequently presented itself to her imagination, and interrupted her -labours. The day seemed to her very long, and she had to exercise her -self-denial, in order to resist the temptation she felt to go and take -a distant peep at him, to ascertain how he was getting on; but not to -give her more credit than she deserved, it must be told that she turned -away her eyes when, at lunch-time, Philip, stealing by the side of the -houses, bent his steps towards the Place du Musée. When he returned -empty-handed, and with a smiling countenance, the kind soul became -quite easy, and resumed her needle with more activity than ever. - -At the close of this day, so memorable to the little family, the moment -José was perceived in the distance, dragging along his new possessions, -all the children ran to his assistance; José, throwing himself into -the arms of Dame Robert, commenced a confused recital of his wonderful -adventures; then, suddenly interrupting himself, he drew from his -pocket and presented to her, with inexpressible pride, twelve sous, -carefully tied up in a bit of rag. This was the result of his day's -labour, and José, encouraged by this first attempt, and having almost -completely overcome the timidity natural to his age, like all children -who are compelled by necessity to work while very young, he devoted -himself with so much assiduity and intelligence to his new calling, -that he soon became the most skilful, as well as the smartest little -shoeblack in the whole neighbourhood. As he grew older, his earnings -increased; he sometimes went of errands, called hackney coaches, &c., -&c., while his gentle disposition and pleasing manners gained for him -the esteem of all who lived in the neighbourhood of his ambulatory -establishment. Besides, José was industrious and docile, and not given -to mischief, neither was he greedy, as is sometimes the case with -children even better brought up than he could have been, and his good -conduct was all the more remarkable from his being entirely his own -master during the whole of the day, while fate, as if for the very -purpose of trying him, had placed objects of temptation in almost every -street through which he had to pass on his way backward and forward. -One of these objects was an attractive gingerbread shop, another, a -troop of little urchins, who endeavoured to entice every child that -passed by to join in their follies. It really required strength of -mind, and even what at José's age may be termed virtue, to withstand -these terrible rocks, but he was always triumphant, and if he did -sometimes cast a longing look towards the somersets and tricks of these -little vagabonds, or upon the delicious piles of Madame Legris' crisp -gingerbread, his daily treasure was always faithfully carried home to -Dame Robert, and never had the mud-soiled pedestrian to complain of -having to wait a single minute for the services of the useful shoeblack. - -As our reputation commences with ourselves, and is almost always -dependent on our own will, José, who was truly anxious to do what -was right, had already obtained for himself a very flattering one, -considering his age; and we will now relate the good fortune which this -reputation was the means of procuring for him at the expiration of a -year. - -In addition to Madame Legris', and many other enticing shops, there -was, at that time, upon the Place du Musée, one which kept an -excellent assortment of colours, canvasses, and everything connected -with painting, and which the artists and students of that period may -remember to have been well acquainted with. M. Barbe, the owner of this -establishment, was a kind-hearted and excellent man, very intelligent, -and very active in his business. His shop was always filled with -artists and young men engaged in painting, the proximity of a great -number of studios rendering it convenient for the purchases perpetually -required in this pursuit. Moreover, the length of time it had been -established, the confidence inspired by the worthy owner, and the -advantages it offered to the poorer class of students, had rendered -it a kind of rendezvous for that little world of its own which we -term artists. Barbe kept in his lumber-rooms those inferior pictures -which could not obtain a purchaser, and with which, otherwise, the -unfortunate authors would not have known what to do; he supplied one -with colours, for a certain time, gratis; lent a palette or an easel -to another; had a kind word for all, and took as much interest in -them as if they had been his own children. Madame Barbe seconded him -wonderfully, and shared his tastes and occupations with a degree of -skill and intelligence worthy of all praise; but, as there is nothing -perfect in this world, Madame Barbe will not be offended if I reveal -two little defects, of which, besides, I have since learned, that she -has corrected herself. She was a little too fond, to use a common -expression, of _storming_ at those about her; and she possessed such -an amazing volubility of tongue, that it was difficult to keep pace -with her, so that she almost always remained master of the field. -Still young and very agreeable, she exercised great influence over -her excellent husband, while she possessed sufficient attraction for -her numerous customers, who were amused with her eloquence without -suffering from her irritability. Her usual victims were her husband, -her little girl of four years old, and a man of about forty, named -Gabri, M. Barbe's head assistant and confidential clerk. Naturally -taciturn, Gabri had become still more so since the marriage of his -patron with this eloquent dame. He had remarked, with his usual -discrimination, that when these fits of passion commenced, the very -mildest answer was only pouring oil upon the fire; he maintained, -therefore, in such cases, the most perfect silence; and Madame Barbe, -satisfied with this evidence of the force of her arguments, went -elsewhere to exercise her power. Gabri was nevertheless esteemed by -her, as by every one else; and it is even asserted, that in one of -her better moments she acknowledged, that a great portion of the -prosperity of their business was due to his intelligence and integrity. -He therefore, with a few exceptions, fared pretty well in the house; -not to mention, that Barbe himself treated him altogether as a friend. -Still, poor Gabri could not overcome the melancholy induced by -irreparable misfortunes. In the course of six weeks he had lost his -three children and their mother, by the small-pox; and, even after the -lapse of many years, this man, apparently so cold, shed tears whenever -he spoke of his poor children. "They were three fine boys," he would -say, but could not finish. With a heart so sensitive, it was impossible -for him to behold without interest our amiable little José. He -carefully watched his disposition and conduct for a long time, became -more and more attached to him, and the fortunate child thus acquired by -his own merits alone a prudent and sincere friend. - -But it was not enough for Gabri that he should love José with his whole -heart; he wished also to take measures for his future welfare; and -after repeatedly talking over the matter with Madame Legris, who also -took a great interest in his young _protégé_, they commenced their -innocent plot in the following manner. - -Madame Barbe entertained some partiality for Madame Legris, who, -wishing to maintain a good understanding with her neighbours, listened -more patiently than others to the long speeches of this chatterbox. -Besides, she often gave cakes to the little girl, a generosity which -Madame Barbe could not find it in her heart to blame, notwithstanding -her desire to discover faults. The friendly vender of gingerbread went, -therefore, one morning, to call upon her at the hour she was sure to be -in the best humour, her shop being then filled with purchasers. "Well, -neighbour," she said, on entering, "how goes on business this week?" - -"Pretty well, pretty well," replied Madame Barbe, (all the while -dexterously filling and capping some bladders of colour, an occupation -which she always reserved till the middle of the morning, in order to -display the grace of her pretty fingers,) "but sit down, neighbour; I -am really very glad to see you.... Ah! good morning, sir; you shall be -attended to in a moment.... Pussy, my darling, here is Madame Legris, -who has brought you some cracknels.... Be so kind as to take a seat, -ladies.... Barbe, bring some canvasses.... Yes, ladies, they are -excellent and very fine, and have been made these twelve months and -more.... Your servant, sir; I know what you want.... Gabri, bring some -pencils to this gentleman.... Naples yellow and white? In a moment, -my little friend.... Gracious! what a crowd! what confusion! and only -myself to attend to it all! for as to my husband and Gabri ..." And -Madame Barbe shrugged her shoulders in a most significant manner. - -"Really, friend," resumed Madame Legris, "you seem to me ..." - -"What, sir!" exclaimed Madame Barbe, in a higher tone, "those brushes -good for nothing!... Brushes carefully sorted, and made with brass -wire.... Just look at them a second time, sir. Here's a glass of water. -Good heavens! those brushes ill made!" - -"Pooh!" exclaimed the discontented purchaser, "I don't want any water;" -and putting the brush into his mouth, "I see," he repeated, "that they -divide;" and he threw them on the counter with contempt. - -"You have them, however, from the best makers, my dear friend," said -Madame Legris, wishing to maintain the choleric shopkeeper in good -humour in order to attain her object; "and doubtless ..." - -"Doubtless!" resumed Madame Barbe, becoming scarlet, and biting her -lips; "the gentleman, doubtless, knows nothing about the manufactory of -Dagneau; so it's no use talking. Get out of my way, you little stupid," -she said, addressing her daughter, at the same time giving her a slap. -"Yes, five sous for every dip-cup[2] you bring me to clean, young -gentleman, and quite enough, I think; other people only give four. -Mercy! Gabri: you bring so many things at a time, that you will let -them all fall." And whether Madame Barbe's quick eye really saw what -was going to happen, or whether the sharp tones of her voice startled -poor Gabri, certain it is that he let fall the whole of his load in the -middle of the shop. His mistress, greatly irritated, rushed forward, -and she might, perhaps, have even ventured to have added acts to words -had not the entrance of a new comer suddenly changed the expression of -her features. - -This was a distinguished artist, one of M. Barbe's best customers, who -also affected to be an admirer of his wife, at whose expense he amused -himself, by deluding her with the hope that he would one day paint her -portrait. - -"What's the matter now? Here is truly a fine subject for a picture;" -he exclaimed, as he beheld the crayons and other articles floating -in a sea of oil, while Gabri, with folded arms, stood petrified, and -Madame Legris was engaged in restraining the infuriated mistress of the -establishment. "It might be called the Broken Cruse. But do not spoil -your pretty face, my charming model. My picture will be completed in a -week, and then we will commence the sketch of our portrait; but really -your complexion is so delicate, so transparent, that we shall have to -use all the resources of our art, and I have a great fancy to try it -on wood. Have you any panels at hand, as, if so, we will choose one at -once." - -Whilst Madame Barbe, now calmed and delighted, resumed her seat with -an affected air; the painter, half reclining upon the counter, amused -himself with sketching a small figure with a piece of white chalk, -while he related all the important news of the artistic world. "I told -you, Madame Barbe, that the number of fools was increasing; pictures of -ten feet are nothing to these gentlemen now. There is G----, whom you -know very well; he has just hired the tennis-court at Versailles, in -order to commence his picture, as no studio would be large enough for -it; and this they call painting." - -"Ah! Ah!" said Madame Barbe, smiling, "we shall see that at the -Exhibition. But what has become of that young man, a pupil of Monsieur -V----'s, so talented, and so admired? I never see him here now." - -"Lost! utterly lost!" replied the artist, with a malicious smile. "He -gave the greatest hopes, but his master's false system has ruined him. -That man will never turn out a first-rate pupil; I have said so for a -long time past.... But, Madame Barbe, they are not bringing me anything -I want. How is it that you have not more attendance for your numerous -customers? It is very strange, upon my word." - -"Indeed, neighbour!" said Madame Legris, who had been watching for -an opportunity of getting in a word, "Your business is getting so -extensive that it will be impossible for you to attend to it all -yourself, notwithstanding your activity. Were I in your place, I should -take an assistant--a child, for instance, that would not be much -expense." - -"You are right, neighbour," said Barbe, who at that moment joined them. -"Gabri is overwhelmed with messages and work, and an errand boy would -be very useful." - -Madame Barbe looked at her husband, and then at Gabri: but the latter -continued quietly to grind his colours, and Barbe saying no more, the -desire of contradicting them passed away almost immediately; and this -capricious woman, turning graciously towards the artist, begged him to -give his opinion upon a subject of so much importance. - -"Certainly!" he replied. "It is a good thing; you are quite right;" and -he had already forgotten the matter in question. - -"Since it is decided," resumed Madame Barbe, who now calculated that -she should have an additional person to exercise her authority over, -"tell me, neighbour, whether you happen to know a lad likely to suit -us. You know as well as we do what we require." - -"As to that," replied Madame Legris, concealing the pleasure she felt -at this question, "it is a difficult matter. I am not sure that I know -any one at this moment who would suit you in every respect.... Yes! -stop; I know a poor boy.... But no, it is impossible; his mother would -not consent...." - -"His mother would not consent!" exclaimed Madame Barbe, offended at -the supposition. "What! not consent to his entering a house like ours, -to be my husband's _pupil_, to live as we do! And for all this, what -do we ask in return? Almost nothing, in truth! only to be intelligent, -faithful, obedient, active, industrious, and not greedy, nor awkward;" -and as she named the last of the required qualifications, she glanced -towards Gabri, who bent his head in silence. "In fine, Madame Legris, -represent these advantages to the child's parents, and I cannot think -that they will hesitate for a moment." - -"They will not be so foolish," replied Madame Legris, "besides, this -boy has only adoptive parents. It is poor little José, the pretty -little Savoyard, who is established down yonder, between those two -great stones. His is a singular history, and when you know it...." - -"You shall relate it to me at our first sitting," interrupted the -painter, taking up his hat; and the hope of being able to relate an -interesting story, increased the desire which Madame Barbe then felt -of possessing José. The kind-hearted Madame Legris therefore went away -perfectly satisfied with the success of her project, and if Gabri's -conversation was still as laconic as usual, a close observer might have -seen him several times during the day rub his hands and smile, a thing -quite extraordinary for him. - -The day after this conversation, Dame Robert, dressed in her Sunday -clothes, and holding our little hero by the hand, called upon Madame -Barbe. The story was long, and the dialogue which followed it still -longer: and it may be presumed that Madame Barbe's eloquence was more -flowing and animated than usual; but, as her auditors did not take -the trouble to report it, we can only inform our reader that it was -agreed--firstly, that José should serve Madame Barbe during the space -of seven years, without receiving any remuneration whatever; and that, -after that time, if his conduct was good, he should be paid a small sum -monthly. Secondly, that the said José should, during his seven years' -apprenticeship, be lodged and boarded by his new masters, and that Dame -Robert should take charge of his clothing. - -Every thing being arranged to the satisfaction of both parties, José -was immediately set to work, and from the first moment displayed a -degree of intelligence which greatly delighted the kind-hearted Barbe -and much astonished his difficult partner. He had a wonderful faculty -for remembering where the different articles were kept, and, if he -happened to hesitate for a moment, Gabri, from the extremity of the -back shop, where he was grinding his colours, would quickly make him a -sign, which the intelligent child immediately understood. Poor Gabri -dared not display all his joy, for his tormenting mistress would have -punished him by scolding the innocent José; but, taking advantage of a -moment when the latter came to fetch something from where he was, he -would cast a rapid glance towards the counter, and, clasping the child -in his arms, press him with transport to his heart. Madame Barbe would -turn her head, but Gabri's grindstone was already in motion, while -little José was at the top of the ladder. - -In the evening, the mistress ordered Gabri to conduct the _apprentice_ -to his room. Oh! how delightfully did these words fall upon José's -ears! he who had hitherto possessed only one-third of the dark loft -in which the brothers slept! He was going to sleep alone, and in his -own room! After having gaily mounted seven stories, Gabri opened a -little door, and entered a very small room which led to the roof of -the house, and adjoined M. Barbe's lumber-room. "A window! a window!" -exclaimed José, on entering; "Monsieur Gabri, I have a window!" and he -clapped his hands, and jumped for joy. Gabri showed him his bed, which -was of fresh straw, covered with a sheet; the little fellow was in such -a state of joyous excitement that it was with difficulty his protector -could induce him to lie down. - -José was roused from his pleasant slumbers by the first rays of the -morning sun, when he was gladdened by another agreeable surprise, on -discovering that the walls of his garret were smooth and perfectly -white, for it had just undergone repair, and was then in a state of -cleanliness rarely met with in such places; but José, little sensible -to this advantage, was very much so to the cheerful appearance of his -room, and especially to the facilities which those white walls afforded -him for continuing his first attempts in art. For it must be known that -José, in the leisure moments left by his former occupation, used often -to exercise his talents by daubing with his blacking and clumsy brushes -upon stones or bits of wood a thousand figures of his own invention. -What pleasure, then, for him to be able to adorn his room with drawings -of soldiers and horses! and he was already on the point of commencing -operations when he heard the voice of Madame Barbe, and hastened to -obey the summons. - -For a whole week the house resounded with nothing but the name of José. -The poor boy, constantly watched and tormented, was subjected to a -very severe test; but the natural goodness of his disposition and his -indefatigable zeal, softened by degrees the severity of his mistress. -Besides, his kind friend Gabri, by his judicious advice, saved him from -many an act of thoughtlessness, and Madame Barbe scolded so often that -her husband never scolded at all. José was, therefore, good, beloved, -and happy. His taste for painting was increased by the conversations -which he daily heard in this house; still, perhaps, this taste might -never have been developed, had it not been for a singular occurrence, -and his genius, like the fire shut up in a rude stone, might never have -emitted a spark, had not some one struck upon it. - -Amongst the numerous houses to which José was sent with the orders -executed by M. Barbe, there was one at which he was received with -especial kindness, and which, notwithstanding all his prudence, he -found great difficulty in leaving when his errand was performed. This -was the house of one M. Enguehard, a respectable man, in only moderate -circumstances, who, being passionately fond of art, had exercised his -talents in engraving until compelled to discontinue, by weakness of -sight. Married, late in life, to an amiable woman; who made him happy, -their constant occupation was the education of their only son, a lad -about two years older than José. Francisco, as he was named, had from -his birth been destined to be a painter, and being brought up with this -idea, he manifested both facility and power; but naturally of a lively, -volatile temperament, and still too fond of amusement, he worked but -little, and his progress was consequently not rapid. Like many other -children he did not reflect on the sacrifices which his father's -slender means obliged him to make for his education, and he lost or -destroyed, without scruple, books, maps, mathematical instruments, -and other expensive articles, which his parents could only replace by -depriving themselves of some personal comfort. - -Francisco was nevertheless of a good disposition, and when he chose to -make an effort, his progress was so astonishing, that his kind parents -forgot his past faults. M. Enguehard was at first inclined to restrain -the liking which his son manifested for José, fearing lest this child, -whom he naturally supposed had not been very carefully brought up, -might lead his son to contract some bad habits; but feeling himself -an interest, which it was indeed difficult not to feel, on seeing the -boy's frank and amiable countenance, he made inquiries about him, and -what he learned was so satisfactory that it removed all apprehension -with regard to his intimacy with Francisco. The two boys grew daily -more and more attached to each other, and José divided all his leisure -moments between Dame Robert and his beloved Francisco. Philip, however, -was not forgotten; but José, always beyond his years in mental powers, -preferred the advantage of being enlightened by the conversation of M. -Enguehard and Francisco, to the pleasure of being admired by Philip. -His ideas became enlarged and elevated; and, grieved at his own -ignorance, he envied Francisco the happiness of an education from which -he profited so little. - -One day when the latter had thrown aside, in a passion, a book which -wearied him, José picked it up, and, turning it round, looked at it -with a sigh. - -"You are very fortunate," said Francisco, "in not knowing how to read -or write, for you are not forced to learn lessons." - -"Ah!" replied José, "that is my greatest grief: it is you who are -fortunate in having the opportunity of learning. Oh, if you would but -teach me to draw!" - -"Yes, yes!" cried Francisco, enchanted at the idea: "I will be your -master; but take care if you do not do well--upon the knuckles, my lad!" - -José smiled at this threat, and M. Enguehard, who entered at the -moment, having approved the project, it was decided that Francisco -should give José a lesson every Sunday, and of an evening during the -week whenever José could obtain permission to go out; but Francisco -thought no more about rapping knuckles. José comprehended so readily -and advanced so rapidly, that, in order to maintain the proper distance -between master and pupil, his friend was obliged to set seriously -to work, and this little experiment led him to make a few salutary -reflections. M. Enguehard, struck by José's astonishing aptitude, -neglected no opportunity of maintaining an emulation so advantageous -to both the boys. He often talked to them about the celebrated masters -of the old school, and related to them portions of their history. -"Almost all of them," he said, "displayed their genius from childhood. -Lanfranc, one of the most distinguished pupils of the Caracci, being -in the service of Count Scotti, covered all the walls with charcoal -drawings, his paper being insufficient to contain the fertility of his -imagination. Philippe de Champagne, a native of Brussels, but classed -amongst the painters of the French school, and who died President of -the Academy, used, when about eight or nine years of age, to copy every -picture and engraving that came in his way; and Claude Gelée, called -Lorraine, a real phenomenon, such as the history of the arts can offer -but few examples of, could learn nothing while at school; his parents -therefore apprenticed him to a confectioner, with whom he succeeded -still worse. Not knowing what to do, he went to Rome, and, unable to -find employment, he entered by chance the service of Augustin Tasso to -grind his colours and clean his palette. This master, in the hope of -obtaining some advantage from his talents, taught him some of the rules -of perspective; and Lorraine, devoting himself entirely to painting, -passed whole days in the fields sketching and painting, and became the -celebrated and almost unique landscape painter, whose works we still -daily admire in our Museum." - -José had listened to this recital with an attention which scarcely -permitted him to breathe. When M. Enguehard had finished speaking, -a silence of a few moments ensued, which José at length interrupted -by rising suddenly and crying out with all his might, "Why not? why -not?"... He then blushed when he beheld Francisco and M. Enguehard -laughing heartily. M. Enguehard sent them to play, and, reflecting -upon the words which had escaped from José, he felt tempted to direct -him into a career to which everything seemed to call him; but the -kind-hearted engraver was poor; to charge himself with José was -impossible; and then, was he not wrong in diverting the child's mind -from the ideas that were suitable to his present position? Again he -hesitated. "Good God! what a pity!" he repeated; "but if I should -render him unhappy without being able to assist him!" And from that -day M. Enguehard related no more stories, nor gave himself any further -anxiety about the lessons which Francisco continued to give to José. -But all precautions were now useless; José was born a painter; Claude -Lorraine incessantly recurred to his mind, and for want of fields, -which he was denied the privilege of beholding, he sketched horses -and figures in every corner, and sought subjects for composition in -the historical anecdotes which Francisco related to him. Francisco, -however, could only teach him the elements and mechanical details of -art, things which José's genius rendered almost useless to him. Drawing -even was not enough; he burned with a desire to paint, and found a -secret pleasure in touching palettes and colours. Examining with -attention the occupations of the various painters on whom he waited -with parcels, his imagination became excited, and when alone in his -garret, he grieved at being only able to work with black and white. He -took good care, however, to keep from Madame Barbe the knowledge of -his favourite amusement. It was at the expense of his sleep that he -exercised his talents; and his friend Gabri, his only confidant, did -not feel tempted to betray his secret. - -But a circumstance occurred, which all his prudence could not have -foreseen, and which, by enlightening Madame Barbe, cost poor José many -tears. - -We have already spoken of Barbe's kindness in giving room in his house, -not only to those pictures, whether good or bad, which their authors -had no convenience for keeping; but also to the colour boxes of the -young men employed in copying in the Museum; as well as to the studies -which the pupils were very glad to bring under the notice of the crowd -of artists, who were continually congregated in the shop of the honest -colour vender. Before being admitted to compete for the great prize -for painting which annually sends to Rome, and maintains there, at -the expense of the government, the person who has the good fortune -to obtain it, the students have a first trial with a full-length -figure, and afterwards with painted sketches; and the six or eight -most successful competitors then take their places, and commence -the pictures for which the prize is to be awarded. It may easily be -conceived how great is the importance attached to these competitions by -those young and poor students, who behold in them the termination of -their elementary course, and the possibility of pursuing their studies -on a more extended scale. One of the most promising pupils of that time -had just obtained the prize for the figure. As Barbe had assisted him -in various ways, he was anxious to make him a participator in his joy, -and place in his hands his triumphant work. He arrived, therefore, -followed by a dozen of his companions and rivals, who, the first moment -of disappointment over, usually participate cordially in the delight of -the victor, especially when they happen to study under the same master. -José was a witness to the transports of these young men, and heard the -praises lavished by the spectators on the fortunate student. Agitated -by a thousand varied emotions, jealous, but with that noble and rare -jealousy which made Cæsar weep at the feet of Alexander's statue, he -would doubtless in his excitement have drawn upon himself a severe -reprimand from Madame Barbe, had not Gabri whom nothing could divert -from his silent watchfulness, led him away, in spite of himself. - -"Ah!" said José, with emotion, "Do you see that young man? He is only -fifteen.... Claude Lorraine was a confectioner.... And I, what am I?... -I feel that I, too, have something in me!..." - -Gabri knew nothing about Claude Lorraine, but he exerted himself with -so much kindness to pacify José, that he at length succeeded, by means -of a positive promise, to satisfy, at least, the most attainable of his -wishes. The Exhibition had just opened, and José from his station in -Madame Barbe's shop, could see successive crowds of amateurs thronging -the entrance to the Museum; and he was constantly hearing the merits of -the different paintings discussed. How, then, could he help ardently -longing to examine for himself those interesting works? He had once -ventured timidly to approach the door of the Museum, but the dark scowl -of the porter, and a slight movement of his cane, warned him to make a -precipitate retreat; not that working-men of all kinds, and soldiers, -cannot without difficulty gain admission into these exhibitions; but it -must be owned that poor José, at his age, and in his linen pantaloons, -besmeared with every colour in M. Barbe's establishment, and in his -tattered and scanty jacket, presented an appearance by no means -calculated to soften the rigour of so proper a gentleman. Having then -confided his grief, both to his young and his old friend,--to Francisco -and to Gabri,--the affair was settled in the following manner. -Francisco, with his father's permission, presented his little companion -with a coat, and a pair of nankeen trousers, which he had laid aside, -and which could easily be made to fit José. Philip, who had for some -time been working at a tailor's, eagerly offered his services. Dame -Robert purchased a pretty piece of stuff, which her daughter cut out -for a waistcoat; and Gabri declared that he would take upon himself to -provide the hat. José burned with impatience to enjoy the generosity of -his friends; but the requisite preparations necessarily took some time, -for the little workers had more zeal than capacity; and, besides, they -could not neglect their ordinary tasks. It was necessary, therefore, -to wait, and José, finding himself alone in the shop, and wishing to -divert his mind, determined to take another view of the picture which -had made so deep an impression on him, and which the young painter, -according to custom, had left for some time with M. Barbe. It was hung -at a considerable height; José mounted a ladder, to get it down; but, -thinking he heard the voice of the terrible Madame Barbe, he hastily -replaced it, and, in his precipitation, brushed against the still fresh -paint with his sleeve, and rubbed out a portion of the ground and -almost the whole of one leg. Recovering from his fright, and finding -no one approach, he again raised his eyes: judge of his dismay, on -beholding what had occurred! What was to be done? What would become of -him, if the young painter happened to come for his picture? What would -Madame Barbe say? for, if questioned on the subject, he would not utter -a falsehood. Besides, all evasion would be as useless as it would be -wicked, as such an act of carelessness could have been committed by -no one but him. The poor child was in despair; he already saw himself -ignominiously turned out of the house; but time pressed, and he must -discover some means of repairing the mischief. He could find but one. -He ran to hide the picture in his room, and was presumptuous enough to -rely upon his own ability to repair the fatal blemish. - -It may be thought, that so daring an idea was but little likely to -enter the mind of a child only thirteen years of age; but José, as -we have before observed, was born with extraordinary talents for -painting; besides, he knew nothing else; he occupied his thoughts -with nothing else;--all that he had seen and heard from his earliest -childhood had reference to painting. Neither is it without example, -that remarkable talents--especially when constantly directed towards -one object--have produced, even in extreme youth, very astonishing -results. Some years ago at Florence, when there happened to be a fall -of snow of a few inches thick, a very unusual occurrence in that -climate, the children of the common people might be seen gathering it -together into great heaps, forming it into giants in the principal -square, and in the streets into colonnades and statues, and even -into groups, in which artists themselves could not but acknowledge a -remarkable imitation of the great works in the midst of which they were -born; so much does the influence of what they hear and see act upon the -minds and dispositions of children, and give, as a mere starting-point, -to some of those who live in the atmosphere of art, that which to -others less favoured proves almost a goal. It must also be remembered, -that the work on which José was about to try his skill was that of a -youth of fifteen, and, consequently, far from being faultless. - -He had seen enough of painting to feel at no loss in charging a -palette; but he wanted colours, brushes, &c.; and José well knew that, -though in the midst of everything of this kind, he had no right to -touch any. He therefore resolved to have recourse to the friendship of -Francisco, and to ask him for the money necessary to make his purchases -at a distant shop. It may perhaps appear singular that his friend Gabri -did not come to his aid; but the absence of this guardian angel had -been the cause of his misfortune as there was no friendly glance or -hand to warn, or raise him up. Gabri, for the first time during the -whole fifteen years that he had lived with M. Barbe, had asked leave of -absence for a few days, in order to visit his native place; his request -was so reasonable, that it could not be refused, but Madame Barbe's -ill-temper was at its height when she beheld him depart without being -able to obtain a single word of explanation relative to the motives -which had induced him to undertake this unexpected journey. - -Gabri was to return on the Sunday evening, the day following that -which had proved so fatal to poor José; but to wait for his coming -was impossible, this same Sunday being the only time that the poor -boy had at his own disposal. He therefore hastened to M. Enguehard's, -and having fortunately found Francisco alone, he confided to him his -embarrassment. Francisco shuddered at his friend's danger, but was -almost as much terrified at the projected reparation as at the accident -itself; nevertheless, at the urgent entreaty of José, who feared lest -his absence should be remarked, he gave him all the money he had, -amounting to four francs ten sous. This was sufficient for José's -purpose; for, as may be easily imagined, there was no question of -easel, nor colour box, and he made so much haste, that his purchases -were completed and hidden before Madame Barbe had once asked for him. - -José was tormented during the whole of the day by the idea of his -daring undertaking; and his preoccupation prevented him from being as -much delighted as he would otherwise have been with his new clothes, -which Philip, with an air of importance, brought home tied up in a -handkerchief, in tailor fashion, under his arm. The poor boy, who -expected great praise and many thanks, was somewhat disconcerted at the -indifference with which José examined an _invisible_ seam, which in -spite of this qualification was even more easily distinguishable than -any of the others. He therefore went off, persuaded that José was ill, -for he could never attach an unkind motive to his conduct. - -José, awakening with the earliest dawn, at first felt nothing but -the delight of possessing colours and brushes. He prepared his rude -palette with extreme care, and made this important operation last as -long as he could; but when all was ready, the difficulty of commencing -vividly presented itself to his mind, and caused him so much anxiety, -that he remained motionless, not daring to touch a brush, when all at -once a fortunate inspiration restored his courage. "I have to paint -half a leg," he said to himself. "Well, then, why not copy my own? The -greatest masters use models, and paint everything from nature; I can -easily place one foot without inconveniencing myself. We shall see if -with this assistance I cannot manage." And José commenced by cutting a -caper; then looking at the figure, the legs of which, fortunately for -him, were outstretched, he placed one of his own in nearly the same -position, and with a trembling hand gave the first touch. By degrees -that fever of enthusiasm, which always fills the mind in every kind -of composition, took possession of him; he became excited; he fancied -himself drawing like Raphael, colouring like Rubens; and his hand, so -timid at first, worked with freedom and facility; he felt no further -embarrassment, and did not cease until he had completely repaired the -mischief. - -[Illustration: Poor José, p. 264.] - -His task ended, José went down, to watch for an opportunity of -replacing the picture without being observed. It was already late, the -whole of the family were going out for a walk; and Madame Barbe was -in such good humour, on account of a pretty cap which her husband had -just given her, that José had no difficulty in obtaining leave to go -to the Exhibition, on the understanding that he was to be back before -dinner-time, to arrange certain things, which Gabri's absence had left -in disorder. José, with a light heart, had no sooner lost sight of them -than he hastened to hang up the picture, and smiled, as from beneath -he beheld the fine effect of his work. Having now nothing to think of -but the delight of possessing his new clothes, and, especially, of -being privileged to pass the threshold of that door, so long closed -against him, he went out, fastening with some pride the metal buttons -of his coat, and entered the Exhibition, eyeing the burly porter, as he -passed, with a confident air. - -At that period, the noble staircase, with its double banister, -which we admire at present, was not built; the square saloon of the -Exhibition was reached by a side door, leading from the Place du -Musée, and a staircase, which now only serves as a private entrance. -This entrance was neither so convenient nor handsome as the present -one; but still it was princely in its dimensions, and especially so -to the unaccustomed eyes of poor José, who had never seen anything -more splendid than the church of Saint Roch. Those wide steps of white -stone; those walls covered with pictures, for they reached almost to -the first landing-place; the tumult of the crowd which pressed forward, -carrying him along with it,--all combined to throw José into a kind -of bewilderment. He looked without seeing, walked without thinking, -and, driven onwards by the crowd, at length found himself at the door -of the great gallery of the Museum, which is left open during the -Exhibition, but which at that time contained only the works of the -old masters. At the sight of this immense gallery, magnificent even -to those who are familiar with magnificence, José stood struck with -astonishment, while an involuntary feeling of respect caused him to -take off his hat. There were but few visitors in that part of the -Museum; José breathed more freely, and being able to examine without -being jostled, began deliciously to taste the pleasure he had so -often longed for. Various pictures attracted his attention; but too -ignorant to divine their subjects, there was something wanting to his -enjoyment. But when, at last, he came to that picture of Raphael's, -known by the name of _La Vierge à la chaise_, the figures could easily -be recognised, and José found himself, so to speak, in the midst of -his habitual acquaintances; he was able to make comparisons, having -seen other church paintings; and his natural taste was so pure, and -he had so remarkable an instinct for appreciating the master-pieces -of art, that at the sight of this admirable production, an emotion -hitherto unknown took possession of him. The more he looked, the more -complete did the illusion become; the face of the divine infant seemed -to become animated, and to smile upon him. José, leaning against the -balustrade, extended his arms and smiled too, and in the delight of -these new sensations, forgot everything else, when a noise close by -him made him start and awake from his reverie. He turned his head, -and beheld a man attentively examining him; he was still young, and -possessed a countenance remarkable for its expression; his eyes, full -of fire, were fixed with kindness upon José, who, notwithstanding his -ordinary timidity, replied without embarrassment to the questions -addressed to him. The stranger wished to know his name, what he thought -of Raphael's picture, what were his views, his occupations, &c. José's -artless statements, through which his precocious genius could readily -be discerned, deeply interested the stranger. "You were born a painter, -child," he said, touching José's forehead. "You already know what no -master could teach you, but you must be directed, and this I will -undertake to do. Here is my address, my name is G----; call upon me, I -will make something of you." - -José, overwhelmed with joy in recognising the name of one of our most -celebrated artists, clasped his hands without being able to utter a -word. Monsieur G. gave him another kind look, and departed. It was some -time before José recovered from the agitation into which this event had -thrown him, and the day was already far advanced when he remembered -that he was still in the service of Madame Barbe, and that his accident -caused him to run great risk of not remaining in it. Full of anxiety, -he precipitately retraced his steps, and soon reached home. Alas! -every one had returned, and the manner in which he was received, was a -presage of the storm about to burst over his devoted head. - -Barbe, who was hurriedly pacing the shop, advanced towards him, as if -to question him, then turned away his head with an expression of vivid -sorrow. José, confounded, was beginning to murmur some excuses, when -Madame Barbe, the violence of whose passion had hitherto prevented her -from speaking, at length recovered the power of pouring forth the abuse -destined for the hapless culprit. - -"Here you are, at last, Sir!" she said. "You are certainly very -punctual; however, I can easily imagine, you young rascal, that you -were in no hurry to make your appearance." - -"I am very sorry, Madame....." replied José. - -But Madame Barbe would not give him time to finish. - -"Do not interrupt, you shameless liar," she cried; "you little viper, -whom we have nourished, and who now stings his benefactors. But I could -pardon you for being idle and ungrateful, if you had not sacrificed -the reputation of my house, by destroying the pictures confided to us. -Yes," she continued with more vehemence, seeing José turn pale, "you -fancied, you hardened, good-for-nothing, that your tricks would not be -discovered; thief, we know all: not content with having irreparably -destroyed a fine work, you have carried your villany so far as to steal -from us the things necessary for your undertaking." José uttered a -cry of horror, and rushing towards his implacable mistress, who still -continued her invectives, he protested his innocence, in so far at -least as related to the second part of the accusation; but neither his -tears nor his protestations produced any effect upon the prejudiced -minds of his employers. It had so happened that when they entered, -the light which M. Barbe carried, fell directly upon the unfortunate -figure restored by José; and as nature had made him a colorist, a -quality which can never be acquired, and one in which the young student -was deficient, it was an easy matter to perceive the difference. -Besides, poor José, in his embarrassment, had copied the left foot, -which happened to be most convenient for him, without observing whether -it was the proper one, and had so placed it that the great toe was on -the outside. The loft in which the culprit slept was visited, and his -still moist palette and colours left no doubt of what he had done. -Barbe would have pardoned the injury done to the painting, but the idea -of theft revolted his honest nature, and it was difficult to avoid -suspecting José, since they were ignorant of Francisco's friendship for -him, and well knew that he had nothing of his own. It was in vain that -he related the simple truth, it only appeared an ingeniously concocted -story; and Madame Barbe, after a second explosion of invectives, took -him by the arm, and would have turned him out of doors that very -evening, had not her husband positively declared that he should remain -for that night. His wife, obliged to yield, revenged herself by seeking -two or three of her neighbours, who hurried with malicious eagerness -to see the left foot upon the right leg, and the woful condition of -poor little José, choking with grief in a corner. He was spared none of -their commentaries, these kind souls taking care to speak very loudly -and very distinctly. - -"Certainly," said one, "his mother did well to die, poor dear woman. -She did not deserve such a son." - -"I always expected it," said another, "this is what comes of picking -up vagabonds; but Dame Robert is such an obstinate woman. What is one -to do?" A third added that everything must be locked up, and care -taken that he was never left alone. Finally, their cruelty was carried -to such extremes, that poor José was unable any longer to restrain -his sobs, which being heard by M. Barbe in his room, he immediately -hastened to the poor child and sent him to bed. - -José passed a frightful night; a few hours more and he would be sent -away disgraced, and obliged to return to his adopted mother, without -the means of support, and with a charge of dishonesty weighing upon -him. One hope alone remained to him, Francisco might attest the truth -of what he had said; he therefore determined to entreat M. Barbe, who -was more humane than his wife, to go and question Francisco, who would -establish his innocence; but even this resource failed the unfortunate -child. The same idea had occurred to Barbe, who was very fond of him, -and early in the morning he had called upon M. Enguehard. Wishing to -spare his favourite as much as possible, he merely asked Francisco -whether he had lent José any money. But Francisco not having been put -upon his guard, and fearing lest he might in some manner injure his -friend, or be reprimanded by his father, committed a fault too common -among children, and in order to save José he told a falsehood, and by -so doing completed his ruin, for he assured M. Barbe that he had not -lent his apprentice anything. M. Enguehard knew nothing more, and Barbe -returned, convinced of José's theft, and of the necessity of sending -him away. He therefore repulsed him angrily when he came to present his -request, and told him to pack up his things. But Madame Barbe was not a -woman to lose an opportunity of delivering a speech or making a scene, -and therefore determined before expelling the unhappy boy, to oblige -him to make an apology to the young student whom she had begged to -call at the shop. José almost happy at this unexpected respite, placed -his little bundle on the ground, and leaning upon it, cast a sorrowful -look on all the objects around him, and which he was about to leave -for ever. Gabri's vacant place caused his tears to flow afresh; would -that faithful friend believe his protestations any more than the rest, -whilst proofs were so strong against him? At that moment the postman -placed a letter in M. Barbe's hand. "Oh!" said the latter, "it is from -Nogent-sur-Marne, and from friend Gabri. What can he have to write to -us about?" and he read the letter to himself with signs of the greatest -surprise. Madame Barbe, impatient to know what it contained, snatched -it from his hand, and, after reading it, exclaimed, "Heaven be praised, -this act of folly will never be committed. Listen to this," she said, -calling to José, "behold the just punishment of your infamous conduct;" -and she read, or rather declaimed the following letter:-- - - "From Nogent-sur-Marne, my native - place, September the 7th. - - "MONSIEUR BARBE,--Notwithstanding my intention of returning the day - after that fixed by you, I write to inform you in a more authentic - and convenient manner of my intentions with regard to Joseph Berr, - called José, your apprentice. Monsieur Barbe, I have lost my wife - and three children, three fine boys whom God has taken away from - me; but I dare say I have already told you this. I have a nice - little property perfectly free from all claims (a good seven - thousand francs placed here in honest hands). Therefore, being - master of my own will, which is to love and assist the said José, - I intend that he shall follow the calling which he is so anxious - for, viz., that of an artist, and for this I have bound myself, by - my signature, which you will see at the end of the deed written by - me upon stamped paper, and which accompanies this letter. I beg - that it may be read to the said José, and never again recurred to, - being, notwithstanding, Monsieur Barbe, - - "Your very faithful Servant, - "SEBASTIAN GABRI." - -The second paper was as follows:-- - - "Joseph Berr, called José, requiring, in order to be able to - prosecute his studies in painting, during four years, a sum of - money, which I possess, I give it to him as a loan which he will - return to me when his profession becomes profitable, together with - the interests and costs as is just and customary. - - f. c. - - "First. One franc per day for maintenance - during the space of four years, making 1460 0 - - Item. For entering the studio of a celebrated - master, 15 francs per month for four - years 720 0 - - Item. For indemnifying Madame Barbe, for - three years' apprenticeship, still due to - her 50 0 - - Item. For 25 centimes every Sunday, for - child's amusements 52 0 - - Item. For my journey hither by coach, expressly - on his account 10 0 - - Item. For my expenses while here 12 0 - - Item. For this sheet of stamped paper 0 30 - - Item. For interest during four years 460 6 - -------- - 2764 36 - - "Which sum I undertake to pay, according as required, Provided that - the board and lodging be furnished by Dame Robert as heretofore. - - "The said José will put his mark at the end of this deed, to which - I also cheerfully put my name. - - "SEBASTIAN GABRI." - -It is easy to imagine the agony of poor José while listening to the -reading of these papers; what would have overwhelmed him with joy the -evening before, now filled him with anguish. Gabri, that tender and -generous friend, as a reward for his sacrifice, was about to learn that -the object of his care was unworthy of it. Still José was not guilty, -and these bitter trials were now on the point of coming to the happiest -termination. Francisco, tormented as one always is by the consciousness -of having done wrong, and rendered uneasy about his friend on account -of M. Barbe's visit, determined to confess all to his father, who had -no difficulty in convincing him of the gravity of his fault, and of -the inconvenience which might result to the innocent José, who might -perhaps be accused of having stolen the colours from his master. -Francisco, alarmed at this idea, entreated his father to take him -instantly to M. Barbe's; and there, regardless of the spectators, he -had the courage and the merit to confess his fault, and thus completely -justify his friend. - -Whilst Madame Barbe stood biting her lips, and saying, "It is very -singular, very strange," and her kind-hearted husband brushed the tears -from his eyes, the two boys affectionately embraced each other, and -enjoyed the happiest moment of their young lives. A moment afterwards, -José had another triumph, highly flattering indeed to his self-love, -but not to be compared in real worth with the noble friendship of -Francisco. The young author of the injured painting was with his -master when Madame Barbe wrote to him her anything but clear account -of the accident, which she was anxious to turn to the disgrace of -poor José. This master was the very Monsieur G---- before mentioned, -who, recognising in the hero of the story, the child who had so much -interested him at the Museum, wished to accompany his pupil to M. -Barbe's. For a long time he examined in silence the attempt which -had cost the poor boy so dear, then turning towards his pupil, "If -you don't make haste," he said, "I can tell you he will catch you." -This man, distinguished as much by feeling as by genius, was able to -appreciate the action of the worthy and generous Gabri; he read his -letter with emotion, and taking a pencil, ran it through the fifteen -francs per month destined for José's instruction. "I cannot hope," he -said, smiling, to José, "to be the _celebrated master_ mentioned by -Gabri, but he must at least let me teach you all I know." - -It may easily be imagined, that everything was arranged, without -difficulty, to the entire delight of the poor boy. Madame Barbe, -awed by the presence of Monsieur G---- and Monsieur Enguehard, felt -that she must put some restraint upon her tongue. She unhesitatingly -accepted, it is true, the indemnification of fifty francs, and only -murmured on the day that Barbe presented José with his first box of -colours. Dame Robert, who was consulted in all important arrangements, -was at first somewhat discontented with José's choice; but she could -refuse nothing to her dear child. "And, after all," she said, "it is a -trade, like any other. I am only sorry that the apprenticeship is so -long." She was completely consoled, however, when José came once more -to live with her. - -To complete José's happiness, M. Enguehard, a short time after these -occurrences, begged M. G---- to receive his son as a pupil. The two -friends, therefore, were again together, following the same career with -equal ardour, and although with different success, still without any -interruption to their mutual friendship. - -Those who are curious to know whether José justified the hopes inspired -by his childhood, may have their curiosity gratified by a perusal of -the Second Part of his history. - - -SEQUEL TO THE HISTORY OF POOR JOSÉ. - -How tranquil and pleasant is the life of the artist! He possesses an -advantage which is denied even to the fortunate of this world,--an -occupation always affording amusement and variety, together with an -almost total indifference to everything which does not bear directly -upon painting. The artist sees that all is quiet in the town in which -he lives; this is enough for him: scarcely does he know the names of -the ministers in office, and he is the last to learn what is going -on around. Occupied the whole day with his art, his studio is his -universe; and at night, in the midst of a re-union of friends, artists -like himself, he still dwells upon his favourite idea, which is never -absent from his mind, while he gains instruction, or is inspired with -increased ardour by the conversation of his colleagues or rivals. These -re-unions are gay, and abound in wit, as well as in mischief. Not a -few of those caricatures which attract the loungers of the Boulevards -and the Rue du Coq, have been sketched by a skilful hand during these -moments of recreation. A few amiable women, authors, distinguished -musicians, and poets, make a part of these seductive meetings: each one -amuses himself according to his fancy; and if the mirth is sometimes a -little noisy, and the wit a little too free, wit and mirth are at least -always to be found in them. - -But if the artist is happy, the student is even more so. The former, -being no longer at an age in which he can advance much, is keenly -alive to his own deficiencies, and, if it must be owned, often looks -with a jealous eye on the success of his brother artists; while to -the other, on the contrary the horizon of his hopes is unbounded, and -emulation but a healthy stimulant, which does not degenerate into envy. -The student tries to excel his companions, but he loves them all; he -encourages the less skilful, frankly admires those who are superior to -himself, and, while pursuing his laborious occupations, seldom fails to -lay the foundation of one of those honourable and lasting friendships -which embellish the remainder of his life. Little favoured by fortune, -as a general rule, these young men endure privations with cheerfulness, -or rather their simple habits prevent them from feeling them as such. -The whole of their time and powers, being constantly directed towards -the one object in view, there is no space left for the minor passions, -which so often disturb the mind of youth. The pleasures of the toilet -are unknown to him who spends his days in the studio, and public -amusements are too expensive to be thought of more than once or twice -a year. - -Francisco and José, re-united as we have already said in the studio -of a celebrated painter, led a life in every way consonant to their -tastes; but José especially felt the happiness of a condition, to -which he had never thought it possible to attain. He was no longer -the hapless child, rescued from the street by the benevolence of a -kind-hearted woman, but a fine young man, the honour and hope of -Monsieur G----'s studio, and, what was still better, a good young man, -always simple and modest, almost ashamed of being distinguished, and -redoubling his attentions towards his first protectors, in proportion -as his success rendered them less necessary to him. The excellent -Gabri devoted a portion of the sum which had been destined for his -instruction to the hire of a room in the house in which Dame Robert -lived, where José could work without much inconvenience. He rose very -early, and commenced the labours of the day by making pictures of -everything that presented itself to his imagination, or copied drawings -lent to him by his master. After a hasty breakfast, he repaired to the -studio, worked until five o'clock, when, accompanied by Francisco, and -conversing together on their projects and hopes, he quietly returned -home. M. Enguehard often invited him to dinner, and took great pleasure -in extending his knowledge in such a manner as might be useful to -him. Thanks to the kind instruction of Madame Enguehard, and to his -own natural abilities, he soon learned to read and write; while M. -Enguehard especially endeavoured to make him acquainted with history -and fable,--acquirements indispensable to a painter, who, in fact, -ought not, if it were possible, to remain in ignorance of any branch of -knowledge. Everything can and ought to tend to his advancement in art: -travel, reading, science, the habits of different classes of society, -solitude, happiness, and misery, all are useful and profitable to him -who seeks to represent, with the utmost possible truth, the acts and -passions of man. - -Francisco and José had not yet reached what might be called the moral -portion of their studies; but José could form some idea of it, and -began to make, beforehand, his provisions for the future. During the -winter evenings, the two friends used to draw by lamplight, from seven -till ten, according to the custom of almost all the students. Each pay -a trifling sum monthly for the hire of the room, the models, and the -lights. The students of the various academies assemble together, and -their masters often take pleasure in passing an hour with them, and -aiding them with their counsel. - -It may, perhaps, be thought that such constant occupation must be very -fatiguing, but there are so many attractions, and so much novelty, in -the study of art, that weariness is seldom felt, especially in the full -vigour of youth; and those who have experienced it, can say whether a -week in the life of a man of the world does not leave behind it more -lassitude, more weariness, and more void, than one such as I have just -described. Besides, all is not labour in these pursuits: they rest, -they chat; ideas are exchanged and corrected; the rich are generous -towards the poor, and never refuse to share with them their experience. -The character even is improved in these studious reunions--images in -miniature of the great world into which they will have, at a later -period, to be thrown; it is no longer the rod and the rule of college, -but it is still the salutary influence of companionship; it is -emulation, and a something of the honours of renown, without that alloy -which so often spoils it for man. But woe to the sullen and morose! -woe to those who cherish absurd or bad propensities! for justice is -speedily rendered either by bitter sarcasm or by force. There, as -elsewhere, the most distinguished take the lead, and it can easily be -understood that studies, whose aim in general is to trace the good -and the beautiful, may tend to elevate the mind, and strengthen every -generous sentiment of the heart. - -José enjoyed, with intense delight, the idea of being something -of himself, of seeing before him the almost certain prospect of -an honourable subsistence, acquired by a great talent. He may one -day, perhaps, be rich; the name of Berr may one day be uttered with -respect, and his pictures placed with care in the cabinets of the most -fastidious lovers of art; but I may confidently assert, in advance, -that nothing will be so dear to him, that nothing will efface from his -memory the remembrance of the time, when, on the Monday, accompanied by -Francisco, each went to purchase his sheet of tinted paper, or when, -before retiring to rest, once more turning his canvass to take another -look at the morning's work, he ventured to hope for all that he might -then possess. - -Profoundly impressed with the obligations which he was under to Dame -Robert and to Gabri, he made it a law to himself never to lose a -single day during the whole four years of his pupilage. Always the -first at the studio, he never left before the time of the lessons, -as is sometimes done by those idlers who, having gossiped or wasted -in play the whole of the morning, hide themselves at the arrival of -the master, who supposes them absent. Still, José was not always in -an equally favourable disposition; the games and boyish tricks of his -companions possessed some attraction for him; but he rarely yielded to -the temptation, and did all he could to prevent his too volatile friend -Francisco from doing so. "What matters," said the latter, "losing -a few hours? We have time enough!" and Francisco wasted his time -without scruple. Nevertheless, his natural ability, and a few weeks' -steadiness, always kept him pretty nearly in the second rank among his -companions. - -At the expiration of a year, José began to paint sufficiently well -from nature to attempt some portraits; and he eagerly availed himself -of this means of being less burdensome to his friend Gabri. At his -express desire, Dame Robert persuaded one of her relations _to have -her face drawn in colours_; at the same time assuring her, that her -boy _was well skilled in his business_. José would certainly have been -sadly distressed could he have heard her thus torture the language of -art; but, happily, he was not present, and the good woman, with two or -three phrases of this kind, persuaded her cousin, who merely stipulated -that she should be painted with two eyes, and with her lace cap and -coral ear-rings. This portrait was to be finished for her husband's -birthday. José therefore left the studio a little earlier every day; -and, as the likeness was very striking, and had but little shade, while -the eyes looked full at the spectator, and the coral ear-rings seemed -_as if they could be taken in the fingers_, the work was universally -applauded. The young painter received innumerable compliments, twelve -francs, and several commissions, which, although paid for below their -value, so much increased his little store, that he had the satisfaction -of being able, at the end of a year, to reimburse Gabri for the hire of -his room, and Dame Robert for the trifling expense of his board. The -greater his advancement, the more profitable did his talents become; -and he at length followed the example of many other students of slender -means, who, having the good sense not to be ashamed of employing their -talents in sign-painting, adorn the shops of Paris with what might -almost be called handsome pictures. - -All Monsieur G----'s instructions were attentively listened to by José, -who sometimes even wrote down the most remarkable passages before -he went to bed. One phrase especially struck him as being the true -definition of an artist. "Three things," said this clever master to -his pupils, "are requisite for him who devotes his life to the fine -arts,--genius to conceive, taste to select, and talent to execute." -These conditions are equally applicable to the musician and to the -poet; but who can flatter himself with being possessed at once of all -these three qualifications? José dare not cherish such a hope; he dare -not believe that he had genius; but taste and talent might be acquired, -he thought; and, as our sage little friend was still but just emerged -from childhood, he wrote in large letters, upon his table and upon his -easel, the words which thus became to him a fundamental law of painting. - -The excellent Gabri experienced the most heartfelt joy at the success -of his _protégé_; he frequently visited him when at work in his room, -and, for fear of disturbing him, would remain in perfect silence behind -his chair, and then, after embracing him, he would go down to listen to -Dame Robert's chat. As we have already observed, Gabri was no talker; -their intercourse, therefore, was rather a monologue than a dialogue; -but he was never weary of listening, so long as José was the theme; -but when Dame Robert went on to any other subject, "Good evening, -neighbour," he would say; "Madame Barbe is expecting me, and you know -she is not one to make light of things." - -One morning, at the class, Monsieur G---- said to his pupils, -"Gentlemen, you will to-morrow have a new companion. I recommend him to -your kindness. Not too many experiments or jokes, if you please. He is -very young, and, doubtless, but little experienced in your ways; be, -therefore, good boys. He is sent to me by the city of Angers. Berr, -my friend, you will place him by you; and I beg that you, Enguehard, -will not show off the Parisian too much." Francisco smiled, without -replying; but Monsieur G----'s speech produced the ordinary effect, -and which he very well knew himself. The desire of tormenting the new -comer immediately seized all these young madcaps, and Francisco in -particular. "Oh!" said he, "a pupil from the provinces! how odd that -we have had none before. And they think I shall not amuse myself with -this young Raphael from Angers! Stuff! our master very well knows the -value of his recommendations in this line." And Francisco, encouraged -by the laughter of his auditors, began to make a grotesque sketch upon -the wall which he assured them was an exact portrait of the Angevin. - -"Angevin! Yes, that must be his name," said another young rogue, the -usual companion of Francisco's follies; "you know how that exasperates -them." - -"Oh! as to that," replied Francisco, "we have all our nicknames: am I -not the Madcap, and Berr the Phoenix? But listen! I'll tell you what -we must do;" and hereupon these two giddy brains began whispering in a -corner. José hazarded a few words in favour of the provincial; but he -was only laughed at, and was at last obliged to end by joining in their -mirth, though he determined, nevertheless, to exert his influence to -the utmost at the proper time, in order to save the new pupil from too -much annoyance. - -Many of the provincial towns had then, and still have, academies of -painting, destined for the artistic education of children in humble -circumstances; and the pupil who displayed the greatest amount of -talent was sent to Paris, to continue his studies under a better master -than could generally be obtained in a small town, the expenses of -those studies being defrayed by the establishment which elected him. -The youth, from whom Francisco and his mischievous companions expected -so much diversion, had been chosen by the professors of the Academy -of Angers as the most promising of its pupils. This, however, was -not saying much; and it did not unfrequently happen, that those who -occupied the first rank in the Departmental Schools, were, on entering -those of Paris, immediately placed in the lowest; still, however, -fortunate that the principles inculcated by their professors were -not those of the time of Jouvenet and Boucher. The young student had, -unhappily, been directed by an old master--an admirer of that age of -absurdity and bad taste. He made his pupils copy figures in red chalk, -portraits in pastel, and showed them with pride his prize picture--for -he, too, had been to Rome. But we may judge of the merits of his -rivals, and of the advantage he derived from his journey, when we learn -that this picture, regarded by him thirty years afterwards as his -best production, represented Cleobis and Biton; and that the Grecian -characters wore Roman armour, and draperies of gauze and silk. To crown -his misfortune, the poor candidate, small, ill-made, and more than -plainly attired, not so much in conformity with the fashions of his -province as with the length of his purse, presented an appearance not -altogether unlike the caricature sketched by Francisco upon the wall; -and it may, therefore, be easily imagined, that these young satirists -did not lose so favourable an opportunity of exercising their humour. - -Scarcely had the young man entered, than he was received with noisy -acclamations; and two of the pupils, eagerly pressing forward to -receive him, overwhelmed him with ironical and _outré_ compliments. - -"Sir!" they exclaimed, "your reputation has preceded you; the -admiration of your native city was insufficient for such distinguished -merit. You are about to receive the homage of Paris, while you have -ours already...." - -"The name of the Angevin is already celebrated," added another; "and it -will be handed down to posterity like that of Josepin." - -"But, gentlemen," said the unfortunate victim,--speaking as if all -the A's and E's had circumflex accents over them, according to the -agreeable custom of his province,--"Gentlemen, I am not called -the Angevin. My father's, as well as my own name, is Valentin lâ -Grimâudière."[3] - -This name, and especially the tone in which it was pronounced, a kind -of sing-song, difficult of imitation to those unacquainted with the -fair province of Anjou, excited fresh bursts of laughter; and Francisco -again taking the word, "You must be aware, Sir," he said, gravely, and -at the same time endeavouring to imitate the accent of the stranger, -"that the great painters are rarely known by their true names. Thus we -speak of Dominichino and Guercino, instead of Dominico Zampieri, and -Barbieri da Cento. Assuredly then it is not surprising that you should -be called the Angevin." - -"But, gentlemen," replied the simple youth, "you are indeed too good; I -do not deserve...." - -"You deserve our most profound respect, illustrious companion," -interrupted Francisco. "Gentlemen, I present to you the glory of the -Angevin Academy, the hero of Pasticcio,[4] the conqueror of Stipling, -and the favourite of the Rococos.[5] And to you, noble Angevin, I -present my especial friends, Landort, Galvaudeur (the Disturber), La -Picoterie (the Torment), Rubens the Younger, and myself, Le Braque (the -Madcap), your very humble servant. Now, my worthy friend, you know us -perfectly, so away with ceremony; take your place, my Gringalet, and -let us see what you can do. At the first rest, you shall be made to -read, to write, and to sing, and, after the model, you shall pay your -welcome." - -The unfortunate Angevin, bewildered by this torrent of bad jokes, -dared neither reply nor resist. He had arrived early, in the hope -of finding his future companions less numerous; but his precaution -had proved a failure. Francisco, and the merry participators in his -follies, had divined his intention, and their diligence surpassed his -own. The more sober pupils had not yet arrived; and José, detained by -a portrait which he had to finish that morning, did not arrive until -late, so that the innocent victim remained unprotected in the midst of -his persecutors. Although he had announced himself as having painted, -Monsieur G---- made him commence by drawing, in order to judge of his -power. - -"Sit there," said Francisco, pointing to an empty seat between two -of his companions; "the call has been made, but that is the place of -honour, the best for the light, and the one always chosen by the first -on the master's list;" and he pushed the poor lad towards the place -which his mischief had destined for him. - -As studios in repute are usually well attended, and as space is not -always in proportion to the number of the pupils, they are often -much inconvenienced, and press round the model in three or four rows -of different elevations. Those of the first row are seated upon -low wooden benches; those of the second upon chairs; others again -upon high stools; while, behind these, upon still higher stools, or -standing, come those who paint, with scarcely room for themselves -and their light easels. The place pointed out by Francisco to the -unfortunate competitor, was upon one of the little benches, so that -above him were seated two pupils who amused themselves by resting -their drawing-boards upon his head, and obliged him to hold it bent -down, in a position by no means convenient, especially for looking -at the model, which was placed upon a table two or three feet high. -Besides, the disagreeable person above him, pretending to be obliged to -touch and retouch his work again and again, crumbled up large pieces -of bread, which he afterwards shook over the work of the patient -Angevin. More than one bullet of bread was aimed at his nose, too, -and by such well-practised hands, that their occupation seemed in no -way interrupted. Conversation, however, flowed on as usual, while -the elder students, busied with their work, thought no more of the -stranger. He, poor fellow, tormented, crushed, with heavy drops of -perspiration standing on his brow, and not daring to utter a syllable, -smudged his paper at random, while tears rolled down his cheeks when -he thought of the opinion Monsieur G---- would form of his talents. -Summoning up his courage, however, he at length ventured to address -his right-hand neighbour, and said gently, "Would you be so kind as to -lend me your penknife, Sir?" No reply. "Sir;" he resumed in a somewhat -louder tone, and gently touching him, "if you have a penknife...." -The young man looked at him with astonishment, and pointing to his -ear, gave him to understand that he was deaf. The Angevin sighed, -not wishing to speak louder, for fear of again becoming an object of -ridicule, and turning towards his left-hand neighbour, he again said, -"Oblige me with a penknife, Sir, if you please." The student raised his -head, and replied gravely, "_Non intelligo, domine; non sum Gallus._" -"But, Sir, it is a penknife I want," continued the Angevin, at the same -time making a movement with his fingers, as if cutting a pencil. His -mischievous companion pretended not to understand him, and affecting -to believe that he was making game of him, he pretended to be angry, -and gave him so rude a push that he almost fell from his by no means -steady seat. His portfolio escaped from his hold, and all the drawings -and papers contained in it flew into the middle of the room. The -Angevin, in despair, crept as softly as possible to pick them up, but -his persecutors were not yet weary of the sport. "Get away from the -model! Silence!" exclaimed those of the last row, who were disturbed by -this commotion. "To the hunt! dog! hunt!" cried the others. At length -the poor boy succeeded in returning to his place; but he found himself -so much pressed, and so ill at ease, his companions having designedly -drawn closer together, that, urged to extremes, his anger was on the -point of triumphing over his timidity, when the door opened, and José -appeared. - -"Ah! Phoenix, Phoenix!" exclaimed the young students. "Good morning, -my brave Phoenix," said Francisco; "you are late for a Monday morning, -and will get no place for painting."--"I shall not paint this week," -replied José, advancing towards the fire-place; then looking round -him he said, "Who will give me his place, and I will give him my -study?"--"I! I!" exclaimed several voices. - -"Come, then!" said José, who had immediately observed the uncomfortable -position of the Angevin, "it shall be you, Maurice;" and he pointed to -the pupil seated beside the stranger, who had pretended to be deaf. -"Bravo!" exclaimed Maurice, rising, "I shall have your study. Besides, -I am not very industriously disposed. I shall do nothing this week. -I'll be a gentleman at large!" - -José took his place, and by a glance caused the drawing-boards which -crushed his unfortunate _protégé_ to be removed: then, as if he had -forgotten to bring paper with him, he asked him for a sheet. The -Angevin hastened to comply with the request, and José having kindly -addressed some questions to him, he began to feel a little more at -his ease. At the hour of recreation, these mischief-loving urchins -again met to decide whether some grand joke could not be played off -upon their victim; but José, stepping into the midst of the group, -exclaimed, "No! no! gentlemen, enough of this; let us leave the poor -fellow in peace; he is not a Paris boy, and I demand an exception in -his favour. I was far more of a foreigner among you than he is, yet -have I found in you most excellent comrades." - -José was so much beloved, and possessed so much influence over his -companions, that their sport had no longer any interest for them the -moment he disapproved of it; so the Angevin was abandoned to his young -protector. The nickname alone adhered to him, and it was not long -before they discovered in him so much kindness and good-nature, that -they soon ceased to have any desire of tormenting him. He obtained the -good opinion of all his fellow-students; but José was his friend, and -to serve him he would have gone through fire and water. - -Solon has, I think, said: "No praise before death;" and he said -wisely, for one moment of forgetfulness might tarnish even the most -irreproachable life. Who can boast of being infallible, especially -in youth? José, the prudent José, learned this to his cost; for, -unhappily, these reflections apply to him. It was his first fault; but -it was a serious one, as we shall show. - -Occasionally, during the summer, José's companions formed themselves -into little parties, and spent the day in the country in an inexpensive -manner; for they had both good legs and a good appetite, and required -only simple fare. They went into the environs of Paris, and returned -home in the evening, after spending a pleasant day. But José, though -keenly alive to the pleasure of these parties, often refused to join -them, as they occasioned a loss of time which to him was very precious. -However, the fête of Saint Cloud was approaching, and Francisco -proposed going to see the fountains play. This proposition was eagerly -acceded to, and José felt a strong desire to accompany them. He had -never seen the fountains play, and this sight possesses powerful -attractions to a Parisian, and especially to a young man like José, -who was ignorant of almost everything foreign to his studies. It was, -therefore, decided that they should form a party of twelve, dine at -Saint Cloud, and share the expenses between them. José communicated -his project to Dame Robert, and this excellent woman loved him too -tenderly to oppose what appeared likely to afford him so much pleasure; -nevertheless, at the moment of his departure, she followed him to the -door, recommending him not to lose his purse in the crowd, and not get -into any quarrel with the boothkeepers at the fair. José smiled at her -fears, and hastened to rejoin his friends, who were to meet him at the -Tuileries. - -The young people merrily pursued their way, already amused with -the procession of carriages, horses, carts, and pedestrians, like -themselves, all taking the same direction. On arriving at Saint Cloud, -they commenced with a simple breakfast, the greater part of their -little treasure being reserved for their evening meal. They then took -a survey of the booths, admired the cascades, listened to the bands, -marvelled at the conjurors, and even laughed at Punch's buffoonery, as -the numerous spectators of this fête are annually accustomed to do at -the same season of the year. They several times fell in with a troop -of young men, pupils of a different master, and their rivals in glory -and talent. These two studios were jealous and inimical, as well from -party spirit as from a sentiment of attachment to their masters; and -this animosity had been manifested in more than one encounter of class -against class, for there existed between them no individual aversion. -On this occasion, they looked at each other with an expression of irony. - -"Oh, oh!" cried José's companions, "here are the Princes of _Babocheux_ -and _Flou-flou_."[6] - -"Yes, gentlemen," replied the others, "ready to admire your _Croûtes -aux épinards_."[7] - -Each made a grimace; but they separated without saying anything more. - -Returned to the inn, after having wandered about for a considerable -time, José and his companions were prepared to enjoy a repast, dainty -to them, from their simple habits; and they contemplated it with a -degree of satisfaction, which would have made many young people, -spoiled either by fortune or by their parents, shrug their shoulders -with contempt. Their table was laid in what was called the garden, -a small enclosure surrounded by walls, and covered with a trellis -work, ornamented with honey-suckle and vine. This spot was capable of -containing five or six tables, separated by partitions, also of trellis -work, and though very warm, still there was a little more air there -than in the house; besides the circumstances of the guests permitted -them no choice, and our young students were therefore very well -satisfied at being so comfortably located. - -As may be imagined, there was no lack of conversation; this turned at -first upon their good cheer, which they had time enough to enjoy, as -the waiters were so much occupied, that they allowed full half an hour -to intervene between each course. - -"Well! Angevin, my friend," said Francisco,--for José's protection had -caused him to be received into the party,--"what do you think of this -Marinade?[8] something better than your usual fare, hey!" - -"I should think so," replied the Angevin, holding out his plate for -the third or fourth time. "Plague take the stew, I shan't touch it -to-morrow." - -"What!" cried the young folks, laughing; "what do you mean by the stew?" - -"Oh! nothing, nothing," replied the Angevin, already regretting his -indiscretion; but his companions insisting, and José joining in their -request, he told them, laughingly, that, finding it impossible to live -in Paris in any other than the most economical manner, he had ended, -after trying various plans, by purchasing a large stew-pan and an -earthen stove. He filled it once a week with turnips, potatoes, and a -few slices of bacon, which he boiled altogether, and this _ragout_, -which was hot only for the first time, served him for dinner during the -whole week. He was so much accustomed to call it his stew, that the -word had inadvertently escaped him in the presence of his companions. - -"My poor fellow!" said José, holding out his hand to him. "Poor -Angevin!" repeated the others; and, so far from laughing, a momentary -silence pervaded the whole party. - -"Gentlemen," said Francisco, who blushed at the remembrance of the -murmurs which often escaped him on account of what he called his -father's unnecessary economy; "I am going to propose a toast: to the -success of our worthy comrade! May he gain the prize, even though I -should myself have to be left behind him." - -The young friends rose, and eagerly touched their glasses, while the -Angevin, deeply moved, repeated, in a tone of emotion, "Oh! Berr, Berr, -it is to you that I owe all this!" - -Their conversation then turned upon painting, and upon the hopes -entertained by Francisco and José, who flattered themselves with being -this year permitted to compete for the prize, not, however, with the -presumptuous hope of obtaining it, for they were both very young, -especially José; but the mere fact of being admitted to the competition -counted for much, and they might perhaps deserve honourable mention. -Francisco had, moreover, an additional motive for desiring, as soon as -possible, to distinguish himself. Glory was not the only passion which -agitated his breast; for some time past he had grieved at being without -fortune or reputation, which prevented him from aspiring to an alliance -which would have crowned his fondest wishes. But this prospect was so -distant and so uncertain that he had never spoken of it, even to José, -except once, and then very vaguely. - -Whilst, then, they were conversing upon art, with an enthusiasm -worthy of the subject, they were interrupted by a loud noise, which -proceeded from a room on the first-floor, immediately above the -spot where they were dining. As the window was open, it was easy to -overhear what passed, and, by a natural feeling of curiosity, the young -guests checked their conversation, in order to listen to their joyous -neighbours. - -"By the powers!" cried one, "here's a splendid _charge_[9] it ought to -be hung up in Barbe's shop; the veriest _rapin_[10] would recognise it!" - -"Yes," said another, "it is his very self, with his vagabond air! Ah! -ah! my gentlemen of the green and yellow school! you fancy you are -going to carry off the next prizes from us, do you? We shall see, my -lads! we shall see!" - -Our young friends looked at each other with indignation, and softly -approached the window, in order to hear more, for they recognised their -antagonists, who doubtless little imagined they were so near. - -"For my part," said one of the rival students, "I fear neither Rivol -nor Enguehard, nor even the famous Berr, about whom they make such a -fuss; he is ready enough, and up to the tricks of the art, and that's -all. Enguehard is an idle dog, who does no good, while Rivol is too -well off ever to be anything more than an amateur and a dauber. So down -with the Purists, and long life to the Colourists!" - -"Long life to the Colourists!" shouted his companions, and they -added many other jests so bitter and so personal, that José and his -friends, already animated by a few glasses of wine, to which they were -unaccustomed, could no longer restrain their indignation, and commenced -the attack by throwing into the room plates, knives, and anything -else which happened to come in their way. The enemy hastened to the -window, and recognising their adversaries, uttered shouts of laughter, -which completely exasperated the others. A decanter, thrown by José, -struck the forehead of one of the Colourists, who in their turn became -furious, and began to make a descent, by means of the trellis-work -placed beneath the window, for the purpose of crushing their -antagonists. A battle then ensued, amidst bitter insults. Fragments -of broken chairs flew about in all directions, the women at the -neighbouring tables screamed, the children cried, and the men rushed -forward to separate the combatants, without being in the least able to -understand the invectives with which they overwhelmed each other, under -the names of Purists and Colourists. The landlord of the inn, attracted -by the noise, ran towards the scene of action, followed by his waiters, -and they succeeded, without much difficulty, in calming those who were -only _soldiers_--for they fought solely for the honour of their corps. -But the chiefs did not so readily listen to reason; Enguehard was -stretched upon the ground, his arms pinioned by the two stout hands of -a Colourist, and José, absolutely out of his senses, was stifling, with -the weight of his knee, the young man who had spoken of him with so -much contempt, and who had just been conquered by his impetuosity. - -These four madmen would listen to nothing, and were at length obliged -to be separated by main force; but José, while still struggling, -slipped over some pieces of the broken plates, and gave himself so -violent a twist that he was unable to rise, and was obliged to remain -seated on the ground, suffering excruciating pain. - -It being proved by the testimony of eye-witnesses, that the young -people in the garden had commenced this memorable battle, by throwing -plates into the room, and that the Colourists had only broken the -trellis-work in descending, the landlord contented himself with a -slight sum as indemnification, and allowed them to depart; but José -and his friends had done considerable damage, and had been the first -to commence the disturbance; they had only sufficient money to defray -the expenses of their dinner, and the innkeeper declared that he would -be paid, and that he should send for the police. Francisco increased -the man's anger, by the rage into which he put himself; the poor -Angevin employed prayers and tears, to soften the innkeeper; while -José, ashamed, and in despair, maintained a gloomy silence, abandoning -himself to the most melancholy reflections, when his name, pronounced -by a severe and well-known voice, made him utter a cry, and hide his -face in his hands. - -The voice was that of the good and vigilant Gabri, who had been induced -by his active friendship for José to follow him to the fête, and to -watch over the inexperience which he very justly attributed to him. He -had watched the young men from a distance, and determined not to make -his appearance, except in case of accident; finally, having been able -to find accommodation only at the farther end of the place occupied by -them at the inn, he had been the last to arrive at the scene of action. - -"Sir," he said coldly to the innkeeper, "estimate the damage done, and -make out your account; I will discharge the debts of these madcaps, who -are of my acquaintance, and we will afterwards settle matters together." - -The host, who was no cheat, and who was, moreover, too happy to be paid -without any further trouble, made out a tolerably reasonable account, -which Gabri immediately discharged. Then telling Francisco and the -Angevin to support José, who was unable to walk, he placed him in a -carriage, and drove off with him, after having saluted the troop of -students, who were still too much bewildered by what had taken place -even to think of thanking him. - -Gabri had placed José in the cabriolet in as convenient a position -as possible for his injured leg, while he went upon the box himself, -and during the whole of their way home never once addressed a single -word to the poor sufferer, nor even turned his head towards him, -notwithstanding the complaints which the constant jolting of the rude -vehicle drew from the culprit. The well-paid coachman took them as -far as Dame Robert's door. "There, there he is," said Gabri to the -terrified woman, "and now good evening; I will see him again when he -has recovered, and grown wiser;" and he turned away without listening -to Dame Robert's exclamations, who in her trouble did not perceive -that José had almost fainted. He was conveyed to bed, his dislocated -ankle set, and his numerous bruises attended to: but the wine which -he had taken, and the violent excitement which had followed an excess -altogether new to him, brought on a somewhat severe illness, which -lasted for several days; and even when it was subdued he was obliged -to remain six weeks with his foot resting upon a chair, without being -able to move. We may judge of his grief and remorse, which many -circumstances contributed to augment. Gabri allowed his heart to be -touched by his repentance, and consented to see him; but he was sad, -and Dame Robert uneasy; and José was one day deeply grieved to see her, -while thinking herself unobserved, lock up a bottle of brandy which was -standing near him. - -Soon afterwards he had to endure a far more bitter trial. The time -for competing for the prizes arrived; Francisco was admitted for -the sketches; while José, who was only just beginning to walk, and -whose studies had, moreover, been too much interrupted, was obliged -to give up all hope for that year, and endure the mortification of -finding himself left behind by companions considerably less advanced -than himself. Francisco, though sincerely grieved at his friend's -misfortune, felt his ardour increased from not having to compete with -so formidable a rival. He made astonishing efforts to sustain the -honour of the school, but he only obtained the second prize, which did -not send its possessor to Rome: the first was carried off by that same -chief of the Colourists who had spoken of José with so much contempt: -and thus the poor boy remained with the bitter remembrance of two -months passed in suffering, of a triumph lost, and of a folly committed. - -However, as it is not considered that a young man must necessarily be -dishonoured because he has once been intoxicated and beaten, José, -after having passed some time in a state of complete apathy, at length -took courage. He perceived, that instead of abandoning himself to vain -regrets he ought to endeavour to repair his fault, while that intimate -consciousness of power, in which even the most modest cannot help -believing, told him, that he _could_ repair everything. It usually -happens after a first fault, that a young man either turns from the -evil path, or pursues it for the rest of his life. José had too -much superiority of nature not to profit by experience. Redoubling, -therefore, both his assiduity and zeal, he made such marked progress -during the course of the current year, that Monsieur G. decided that he -also might compete as well as Francisco and Rivol. - -The place in which the young people then worked at their prize -pictures, was situated at the top of that same _Pavilion du Musée_, -of which we have already spoken. It was divided into several little -compartments, or cells, called _boxes_, in each of which a student -was shut up, so as to allow him no communication with his companions, -and still less with his master or with strangers. The subject for the -picture was chosen by the professors of painting of the Institution; -the programme was distributed to the candidates, and when their -sketches were made, and received, they were all to commence their -pictures at the same time, according to those sketches, without -changing anything. Each morning, on arriving, they were rigidly -searched, in order to make sure that they brought with them no drawings -or engravings which could in any manner aid them. Thus left to their -own resources, they passed two months in this manner, _en loge_, as -it is termed; and these pictures, the figures in which were one third -the size of life, were publicly exhibited during three days before the -prizes were awarded. But although it was strictly forbidden for the -pupils to see their respective works, in order, doubtless, to prevent -the weak from being aided by the strong, or to take care that a happy -idea should remain the sole property of its author--notwithstanding, I -say, all these precautions, the students of that time, less sensible -perhaps than those of the present day, found means of visiting each -other without being perceived. The windows of their cells all looked -in the same direction, upon a small, dirty, and almost unfrequented -square, in which is now situated one of the gates leading to the quay. -These temporary abodes were, as we have already said, situated in the -roof, all the windows opening upon wide leads, unprotected by railings. -These madcaps, at the imminent risk of breaking their necks by falling -from an immense height, glided by this way from one cell to another. -The more scrupulous closed their windows, so as to prevent intrusion; -but two days before the expiration of the time allowed for the -pictures, each student permitted, without difficulty, his work to be -inspected by his companions, and the little Areopagus, with remarkable -sagacity and impartiality, precisely anticipated the decrees of the -greater one, and awarded the first and second prize in such a manner, -that there is scarcely an example of their decisions having turned out -erroneous. - -José, who took the first rank in the sketches, now prepared to submit -to this trial, so severe, but, at the same time, so important to him. -Monsieur G. had recommended the reputation of his studio to his pupils. -Three times had they competed, without any of them obtaining the first -prize. It was necessary to repair this disgrace, and be avenged for -the late success of the Colourists. In addition to two formidable -rivals in the opposition school, José had to contend against his two -friends, Francisco and Rivol, who, besides having already competed -for the prize, had, also, the advantage of age--José was then only -fifteen years and a half old; but these considerations by no means -discouraged him; and fired by that enthusiastic and true love of art -which overcomes all difficulties, he commenced, though not without -emotion, the required picture, the subject of which was the "Death of -Hippolytus." - -Dame Robert, as may be imagined, was greatly excited, and her mind -wholly absorbed by her darling boy's undertaking. Certainly, had she -been consulted, José would have had nothing to fear; but neither the -good woman's indulgence, nor Gabri's affection, could avail poor José -anything--they must wait. "If," said Dame Robert, "I could only see -what they are doing, I should soon find out whether José had not left -them behind; but they are cloistered up like so many monks, and when -the boy comes home at night, he does not even so much as give us a hint -as to how things are going on." - -Gabri, equally anxious, but more discreet than Dame Robert, did not -seek to elicit anything from José; but he watched him carefully, sighed -when the poor boy appeared depressed, and rubbed his hands with glee -when he seemed happy. - -The good-natured Angevin, who was not yet sufficiently advanced to -compete for the prize, was deeply interested in the success of his -friend; but he felt little uneasiness, for he knew that José was very -far superior to his rivals. He too would have liked to have seen his -work, but he was obliged to content himself with walking beneath the -windows of the young captives, and see their heads pop out and in -occasionally, like so many marionettes, with now and then a mahl-stick -accompanying them, and serving to complete the resemblance. - -Six weeks had passed away, the pictures were advancing, and as, with -the exception of José and his companions, the competitors were of -different schools, he had seen only the work of his friends; and his -own was so far superior to theirs, that a hope which he scarcely dared -own, even to himself, made his heart beat high within his breast. He -had nothing to fear from the other students, as they were all inferior -to Francisco and Rivol. He was standing, therefore, contemplating with -a kind of secret pleasure the group of terrified horses which he had -just completed, when Francisco tapped at his window, and immediately -afterwards leaping into the room, told him, with a countenance -expressive of the utmost concern, that he was in despair, and should -never succeed with his figure of Aricia, which was in the programme -distributed for the picture. Subjects are usually selected with but few -female figures, these being more difficult for the young artists, as -they cannot have models; and the unfortunate Aricia, which almost all -of them had reserved till the last, had completely wrecked both the -courage and talent of Francisco. He looked with admiration on José's -Aricia, for he had been entirely successful, at least in his sketch. -José, anxious to soothe the agitation of his friend, accompanied him -across the leads to his cell, in order to examine the figure which so -much distressed him: he found it awkward, ill-drawn, and in bad taste, -and could not conceal from his friend that he thought it detestable. -This, of course, served only to increase Francisco's despair. He -dashed his palette to the ground, stamped upon it, broke his brushes, -and ended by crying with rage. José embraced and tried to soothe him, -and at length, by dint of kindness and encouragement, succeeded in -persuading him that all was not yet lost, and that he could still -repaint the figure during the week that yet remained to them. He -pointed out to him what he had to avoid, and raised his courage by -dwelling on the merits of the rest of the picture. At last, after -having spent two hours in this manner, he left him, if not entirely -consoled, at least sufficiently recovered to resume his work. - -The following days Francisco repainted his unfortunate figure, but -still without success; he effaced it, recommenced, again effaced it, -and at last succeeded in completing it; but in a manner so far inferior -to the other parts of the composition, that it formed a blemish which -destroyed the general effect. Such was the opinion of his companions, -when, according to the rule established among them, they visited each -other to judge of the respective merits of their productions. They had -still four days to remain at work, and the pictures were not completely -finished, but it was easy to judge which would obtain the prize; and -José was regarded as the conqueror, provided he completed the figure of -Aricia as he had done the group of Hippolytus and his horses. Next to -his, came Francisco's picture, then Rivol's, the others were very far -from the mark, and need, therefore, cause them no anxiety. - -Francisco, deprived of the last ray of hope by the decision of his -companions, as well as by that of his own judgment, shut himself up in -his cell, and would not allow José to enter, though he entreated for -admittance. He gave no reply to these friendly solicitations, and the -intensity of his annoyance had rendered him so unjust, that to avoid -seeing José, who lay crouched upon the narrow ledge of the window, he -took a large piece of linen, which served him for a blind, and fastened -it before the window. José listened to him for some time pacing up and -down and groaning with despair; but seeing that his perseverance was -useless and importunate he retired, deeply grieved at his distress. - -He passed a sleepless night, and the next morning no sooner had he -reached his own cell than he ran to Francisco's; but he was not there, -his picture still rested upon the easel, and for a moment José thought -of retouching the figure of Aricia. But this would have been a -palpable fraud, and his honour revolted from its commission. Francisco, -moreover, would never have consented to triumph by such disgraceful -means. José, therefore, laid down the brush which he had taken up, and -with a heavy heart returned to his own cell. - -Whilst painting the figure which had proved so fatal to poor Francisco, -he vainly sought some method of serving him, and his tender friendship -made him almost desire that his Aricia might not be better than his -companion's. He worked with so little care, that, had any one else been -in the case, his wishes would have been accomplished; but, as it often -happens with artists, the very thing that he took the least pains with -turned out the best; and, to make use of a familiar expression, this -figure came so happily, that even an experienced painter would not have -been ashamed to own it. - -With a mind absorbed in reflection, José painted on almost without -heeding what he did, and it was not until he rose up, when all was -completed, that he perceived that the last touches seemed to have been -given by the hand of a master, rather than by that of a pupil. His -first feeling was one of intense joy, but it was soon overshadowed by -the thought of Francisco. He felt that the prize was his, but soon one -of those noble inspirations which elevated minds alone receive in their -happiest moments, presented itself to his imagination, and showed him -that the safety of his friend depended solely upon him. - -By one of the old rules of the professors, the pupil who presented his -picture with a figure completely erased, or otherwise defaced, was on -this account excluded from the competition; his picture was exhibited -with the others, but was not taken into account in the awarding of the -prizes, even though it were a masterpiece in comparison with the rest. -This rule, which it was found rarely necessary to apply, was unknown -to most of the students. José had become informed of it during his -residence at M. Barbe's, but he was quite sure that Francisco knew -nothing about it. His friend's picture was the best, after his own; -and by having the courage to destroy the figure of Aricia, which alone -would have ensured the prize to a work of less merit, Francisco would -remain without a rival. - -At first José seized upon this idea with all the warmth of generous -affection, but, on raising his eyes to his work, he began to think -the sacrifice beyond his strength. Pacing his cell with agitation, he -thought of the honour of being crowned at the age of sixteen, of the -pleasure of going to Italy, and of the advantage his studies would -derive from the journey. - -"But," said he, turning his back upon his picture, "Francisco needs it -almost as much as myself; the means of his parents are almost exhausted -by the efforts they have made for his education; his mother's health -requires a warmer climate; if Francisco gains the prize his family will -follow him,..." and José again approached his easel. - -"Francisco is nearly twenty," he continued; "he has already obtained a -second prize, and thus cannot have it again; his age will soon exclude -him from the competition, while I have still two or three years before -me; moreover, he spoke to me of a vague hope which he entertained of a -happy marriage, to which his want of fortune might one day be the only -obstacle. If a brilliant success were to overcome this obstacle? If the -happiness of his future life depended upon what I am about to do?..." -José trembled, opened a box, took out his palette knife, and approached -the head of the charming Aricia--but again he paused. - -"If I were only to injure it a little," he thought, "alas! it would -still be better than my poor friend's!"... and he cast a look of -approbation upon the canvas. But soon a thought presented itself, which -dispelled his irresolution, and strengthened his wavering heroism. He -recalled that painful moment when, despised, falsely accused, on -the point of being driven from the house by Barbe, and without hope -of justification, Francisco did not fear to own the truth, and to -re-establish, at his own cost, the honour of the poor little Savoyard. -The honourable career which was now before him commenced from that -moment; all that he was, all that he hoped to be, sprang, in the first -instance, from Francisco's generous confession.... José no longer -hesitated, he resumed his knife, and with a firm hand so erased the -figure that nothing but the sketch remained--and thus nobly repaid the -debt of friendship formerly contracted to his young companion. - -[Illustration: José erasing his Figure of Aricia, p. 301.] - -Satisfied with himself, and more calm after this trial of strength--an -act of high virtue in a young man of sixteen--José gave the last -touches to the other parts of his picture, and so cleverly managed the -erasure, that nothing more could be inferred from it, than one of those -movements of irritability by no means uncommon among students. He kept -his secret until the day previous to the one on which the pictures were -to be removed. He then called upon Francisco at his father's, and told -him that his figure of Aricia was unfinished, and indeed in a great -measure effaced, and that there was not time to repaint it. Francisco, -recovered from his unjust displeasure, grieved for and blamed his -friend; but, being ignorant of the rule of exclusion, he assured him -that the prize would still be his, and José did not attempt to remove -his impression. - -But José had still severe trials to encounter: he foresaw the grief of -Dame Robert, Gabri's disappointment, and finally a whole year's work -before he could again reach the desired goal, which he had so nearly -attained; but the most painful moment was past, and he awaited that in -which Francisco should be triumphant, as the only compensation worthy -of him. - -The exhibition of pictures was held, as usual, in a small room on the -basement floor, now appropriated to another use. The artistic crowd -arrived, and was constantly renewed during three entire days; and the -young students, mingling with it, heard alike the censure and praise -unreservedly bestowed, and often even with the knowledge that the -young authors of the works were present. The universal opinion was -in favour of the pictures of José and Francisco; but the spectators -were constantly heard to exclaim, "A figure erased! what a pity! what -madness!" - -At length, on the fourth day, after a private conference, the -professors summoned before them the trembling candidates, and José's -sacrifice did not prove unavailing. He heard Francisco Enguehard -proclaimed for the first prize, Rivol for the second, and he scarcely -heard the honourable mention made of himself, notwithstanding the fatal -figure which had excluded him from the competition. - -Francisco, surprised and bewildered at such unexpected happiness, -scarcely knew what he was about; he did not hear the felicitations of -his companions, but allowed himself to be led away by José, who made -him run until he reached his father's house. - -"He has gained the prize!" cried José, at the foot of the stairs, -"Francisco has gained the prize!" and seeing his friend in the arms -of his parents, who wept while they blessed him, this noble youth was -rewarded by a pleasure more intense and more elevated than any which -his own triumph could have afforded him. - -Leaving Francisco in the arms of his happy mother, who was never weary -of looking at him, and who even thought him handsomer, now that the -laurel decked his brow, José bent his steps homeward, and perceived in -the distance Dame Robert and Gabri anxiously awaiting his return. - -"He walks rapidly," said Dame Robert; "so much the better, he bears us -good news."--"He looks happy," continued Gabri: "Oh, if he has gained -the prize! at sixteen, too!" and already a smile of joy shone upon the -countenance of this excellent man. - -"Congratulate me, my friends," cried José, as he approached them; "I am -happy in my failure; Francisco has gained the prize!" - -"Francisco!" exclaimed Dame Robert, letting fall her arms, already -extended to embrace him; "and you? Have you gained nothing? On my word -there must be some abominable trickery in the affair." - -"No," replied José smiling, "but be comforted, my good mother, I am -neither depressed nor discouraged, and next year you shall see the -laurels on my brow." - -"But," said Gabri, in a tone of vexation, "who obtained the second -prize?" - -"Rivol," replied José; "and I might perhaps have had it if ..." and he -looked timidly at Gabri, "if I had not erased my figure of Aricia." - -"Yes!" exclaimed Gabri, as if talking to himself, "I was sure of it, I -suspected as much at the exhibition.... José, José, embrace me, my son. -Gracious Heaven! this is the first day I have passed without regretting -the loss of my own noble boys." - -Gabri was too familiar with artistic matters not to have divined the -sacrifice which José's friendship had induced him to make, and his -heart was capable of appreciating and rejoicing in it; but Dame Robert, -who understood nothing of the matter, save that her boy was rejected, -gave free vent to her dissatisfaction. - -"Indeed, M. Gabri, it is very fine to pet him up after such a failure -as that. Who would have thought it? It was well worth while to be shut -up for two months without uttering a syllable, to let others walk off -with the prize; still your picture was very fine, my boy, though, -to tell you the truth, your female figure was too pale. I told you, -however, not to spare your colours, but young people will always have -their own way." - -José smiled, and hastened to tranquillize the good woman. So far as -concerned himself he succeeded without much difficulty; but she was for -some time out of humour with Gabri, whose triumphant air annoyed her, -because she did not understand it. Nor did she gain any information -on the subject, for Gabri was discreet, and would not divulge José's -secret; he did not even seek an explanation from the lad himself; -but his marks of friendship were increased, and he more frequently -repeated, "My son José!" - -At the annual meeting of the Academy, when the students publicly -receive the laurel crown, awarded for the merits of their works, José -appeared more pleased than Francisco. He was restless, busying himself -with his friend's toilet, &c.; and, placed in a corner of the room -during the ceremony, the spectators might have imagined, from his -excitement and his looks, when Francisco Enguehard was proclaimed, that -he was the happy father of the young laureate, were it not that his -almost childish features precluded the supposition. - -A month after this great epoch for the two friends, they were -separated; Francisco and his parents took the route to Italy; and -José having returned to his studies, pursued them with ardour and -contentment in thinking of the happiness which he had been the means of -securing to three persons. - -The year passed, and when again about to compete for the prize, José -wrote to his friend, and told him to expect him in three months from -that date. He felt confidence in himself, and had acquired so much -power, that notwithstanding the merits of seven competitors, all older -than himself, his picture was unanimously declared the best. It was -even so superior to anything usually seen at these competitions, that -it was thought proper to allow the exhibition to remain open several -days longer than usual, in order to gratify the crowd of amateurs who -flocked to see it. Dame Robert fully enjoyed José's triumph, and the -almost equal pleasure of relating its history to her neighbours. Gabri -rubbed his hands, and bent his head while listening to the praises of -the young artist, and the honest Barbe exultingly boasted of having -supplied for this famous picture the finest and the best canvas in his -shop. - -José, overwhelmed with honours, and full of joy, set out on his way -to Rome, where he found Francisco, who had still four years remaining -of the five granted by the government. Monsieur and Madame Enguehard -received José as a second son; he lived in the same house with them, -and enjoyed, in all its fulness, the delights of a life devoted to -friendship and the fine arts, in that beautiful land where these arts -so naturally flourish. - -Many years have passed away since these events took place. Monsieur -and Madame Barbe, grown rich and old, have retired, and given up -their business to the excellent Gabri. A new generation of artists -and students frequents the shop, and pursues pretty nearly the same -habits as that which preceded it. But it is not in the same spot; -the theatre of José's first exploits no longer exists. The two large -posts may still, indeed, be seen; but Barbe's house has been taken -down, and in its place monkeys and learned birds, attract by their -various tricks, numerous spectators. Francisco Enguehard, steady and -talented, is married, as he wished, to the only daughter of a rich -antiquary, who desired to have for a son-in-law, a man of genius. -Dame Robert has given up her business to her eldest son, and rests -her fingers, if not her tongue, for she is never weary of relating to -any one who will listen to her, how that José was a poor orphan, how -she took him and put him to sleep on her counter, &c., &c. Philip, a -worthy fellow, and a passable tailor, is married and settled, as he -says, in his wife's native province, that is to say in the Marais. The -poor Angevin, still a bad painter, notwithstanding all his efforts and -perseverance, has returned to Angers. There, at least, he has talent, -and directs in his turn the same school which sent him to Paris. He -who was called poor José is now one of our most distinguished artists. -He possesses a respectable fortune, acquired by his talents, and, -what is far more valuable to him, the universal esteem granted to the -most noble character and the most irreproachable conduct. Faithful -alike to delicacy and friendship, Francisco never knew the sacrifice -which obtained for him his crown. José's laurels are suspended in his -magnificent studio, beside his first palette, and his shoeblack's -knife. He watches over Gabri, as a son over a father; listens to the -long stories of the good old Dame Robert, without the least sign of -impatience; and, finally, though young, handsome, and sought after, he -always wears clothes made by Philip, and boasting of little elegance, -with shoes of the same kind from Dame Robert's shop: and this is not -the least remarkable trait in his history. - - - - -CAROLINE: - -OR, THE EFFECTS OF A MISFORTUNE. - - -"How delighted I am that Robert is gone!" exclaimed Caroline de -Manzay, as she entered her mother's room; "I never knew anybody so -disagreeable!" - -"What!" said Madame de Manzay, "not even Denis?" - -"Oh! that is quite different; Denis is teazing and troublesome, meddles -with everything, and is angry when prevented; he jeers and laughs at -one, and becomes passionate and insulting when contradicted; but then -he is a mere child, and one overlooks it." - -"You did not seem very ready to do so: you were always quarrelling, and -could say very insulting things yourself sometimes." - -"For all that I like him better than Robert." - -"Yet Robert never teazed you; he is very reasonable." - -"To be sure he is; he is twenty years old: and how proud he is! Because -he is five years older than I am he treats me like a little girl, and -to-day he told me I was a spoiled child." - -"Robert is not the first person who has said that, my dear; but for -what reason did he pay you this compliment?" - -"It was because Denis, who always takes delight in seeing me vexed, -came to tell me, with an air of triumph, that when we took him and -Robert to the village, we were to go by the road which I do not like. I -said we were not to go that way; he asserted that we were, because he -had heard my father give orders to his forester to wait for him at the -green-gate, that he might see on his way back the fir-trees which are -to be cut. Then I declared that I would not go out at all, and Robert -laughed at me, and insisted that if my father chose it I should be -obliged to go, and to take the road he wished. All this made me angry, -and when papa came up I teazed him so, till he said we should go the -way I liked best, and that he would look at the fir-trees another time. -'Well,' said I to Robert, when my father was at a little distance, -'it is my turn to laugh at you now;' 'I would recommend you not,' he -replied, very contemptuously, 'there is no glory in being a spoiled -child, and in abusing indulgence,' and then he turned his back on me. -Oh! I detest him! So when he got into the carriage I would not say -good-bye, and when he came up to kiss me, I turned my back upon him in -my turn." - -"And did that appear to grieve him?" - -"He did not care in the least; he began to laugh, and said, 'Adieu, -Caroline, try to become a little more reasonable, you need it greatly.'" - -"And how did you part with Denis?" - -"Oh, very well, for I spoke to him." - -"What did you say to him?" - -"I told him I was delighted that he was going away, because he was -so rude; and he replied, that he was quite as glad, because I was so -wilful and captious. In fact, I am not at all fond of Denis, either, -and it is a great relief to be rid of him. It will be a long time, will -it not, before we see him again?" - -"Much too long; his guardian thinks of going to America, and taking -Denis with him. God only knows when he will come back." - -"Oh! I shall have quite enough of him; he is so insufferable! And -Robert?" - -"He is going on his travels for four or five years." - -"That is a great blessing." - -"But, my dear child, you should reflect that Robert is your father's -nephew, and that Denis is my poor sister's son; they are both of them -your nearest relatives, and ought to be your best friends." - -"Fine friends, indeed! the one teazes me, and the other despises me." - -"I allow that Denis is fond of teazing, and that Robert is scornful, -but they will out-grow that." - -"No, that they won't." - -"What! do you, then, really think that Denis, at twenty years old, will -spoil your drawing, or blow out your candle?" - -"He will do something as tiresome; and even if he should improve, -Robert will always remain the same." - -"I hope not; he will gain with years the gentleness in which he is -deficient. But, even supposing he should not change, you yourself will -alter, and when you are no longer a spoiled child, he will not call you -such." - -"I don't know that; he is so unamiable. However, it is all the same to -me; I do not care for his opinion." - -"So I perceive, my dear," said her mother, smiling, "you speak of it so -calmly." - -At this moment, Caroline heard her father calling her, and ran out -to join him; she was always happy to be his companion, and responded -with all her heart to the passionate affection which he showed her. -Caroline was the only survivor of Monsieur and Madame de Manzay's eight -daughters, and during her infancy her health had been so delicate, -as to cause them the greatest anxiety. Continually agitated by the -fear of losing her, their only thought had been to preserve their -treasure: they trembled lest the slightest opposition should endanger -her fragile existence, or cast a cloud over a life which might have so -short a duration. For some years past, these terrible apprehensions had -ceased, but Caroline had been so long accustomed to have her own way, -that the effect survived the cause. She was accustomed to no other rule -than her caprice, or the prompting of a disposition naturally upright -and generous. When her fancies or her self-love did not interfere, -she was ready to do everything to oblige, and diffused around her all -the cheerfulness natural to her age: but if it at all crossed in her -wishes, nothing could be obtained from her, and even her kindness -of heart was insufficient to conquer her temper. In such unhappy -moments, which were but too frequent, she would answer her mother with -petulance, refuse to walk with her father, or sing him the airs he -loved, and behave roughly to her little brother, whom she nevertheless -loved with all her heart, and considered almost as her own child. Being -ten years old, when Stephen was born, she had never thought of him as a -rival, but as a _protégé_. She was habitually kind and indulgent, and -would spend whole hours in building card-houses for him, or in telling -him stories. It is true she did not like him to amuse himself with -others: as she could not appropriate him to herself, like his parents, -she devoted herself to him; but she did appropriate him, in fact, and -one of the principal causes of her dissatisfaction with Denis was, that -Stephen preferred his stories to hers, and his noisy games to the more -tranquil pleasures procured him by his sister. - -"What does it signify, if Stephen enjoys himself better with Denis than -with you?" said Robert to her one day. - -"It displeases me." - -"But why?" - -"Because he is so whimsical; a week ago he was interrupting me -perpetually, to make me tell him over and over again the story of the -Wonderful Cat, and now, when I call him on purpose, he says it wearies -him." - -"Naturally enough, when you propose telling it to him at the very time -that Denis is just in the finest part of a story about robbers or -battles." - -"And twenty times have I begged Denis not to tell him any more such -stories: but he does not care for a word that is said to him." - -"Stephen would be very sorry if he left off, I can assure you: look how -attentive he is." - -"Yes, and what am I to do while Stephen is listening to Denis?" - -"You might finish the drawing which your father asked for this morning, -and which, as you said, you had not time to complete." - -"Indeed I shall not, it is too tiresome; and if anything more is said -about it, I will tear it to pieces." - -"Surely not, you are not silly enough to do that." - -"And why then should I be silly to tear this drawing? It is my own, I -hope." - -"A fine reason truly! The château yonder is mine also. What would you -say if I were to burn it down?" - -"There is no resemblance in the two cases." - -"In fact, I should be a madman, and you merely a child." - -"A child! Do you know that I am fifteen?" - -"So they say, but I cannot believe it." - -"Why not? I am taller than the gardener's daughter, who is sixteen." - -"Yes; but you are not as reasonable as Stephen, who is only five." - -"And, how not, pray?" - -"Come, do not be angry; you are, perhaps, about as much so, but that is -all I can grant you. Now do not put yourself in a passion, that will -not frighten me; you cannot tear me to pieces like your drawings. -Adieu, make yourself happy: I am going to carry off Denis to hunt, so -you may tell Stephen the story of the Wonderful Cat as many times as -you please." - -It was by conversations like these that Robert had drawn upon himself -the animadversions of Caroline. Unaccustomed to any opposition to her -wishes, she could not forgive the harsh manner in which her cousin -contradicted her, and, spoiled as she was by continual marks of -affection, she was astonished at the contemptuous disapprobation which -she had to encounter from one, whose good opinion she was desirous of -obtaining. Never had she heard the name of Robert de Puivaux mentioned -without eulogium. He had completed his studies most successfully, and -had particularly distinguished himself at the Polytechnic School, -which he had just left, after spending two years there, simply for -instruction. His character was extolled, his judgment esteemed, and -his understanding and acquirements were considered by all as beyond -his years; but all these advantages were effaced, in Caroline's mind, -by his ungracious conduct towards herself--or, rather, they served to -render it the more vexatious to her. It must be allowed that Robert -had treated her in a manner far from pleasant. Naturally serious, and -disposed to regulate his conduct on principles of reason and duty, -he could not comprehend the inconsiderateness of Caroline, and the -importance which she attached to her own whims; he had no patience -in seeing everyone yield to her, and was as angry with her for their -weakness as for her own defects; he, therefore, never lost any -opportunity of showing his disapprobation and contempt: and, wholly -engrossed by the unfavourable impressions with which she inspired -him, he did not remark the good qualities which lay hidden under this -petulant exterior, and which the future would develope. - -Shortly after the departure of Robert and Denis, Madame de Manzay, who -had been an invalid ever since the birth of Stephen, was suddenly -snatched from her family, after a few days' illness. We will not -attempt to describe this sad event: there are sorrows which can never -be comprehended by those who have not felt them, and which it is -needless to relate to those who know them by experience. The language -of man cannot adequately express all that the soul of man is capable -of feeling, and such feelings are not learned but revealed; a single -moment--one of those moments which are equal to a whole life--can -explain more than years of reflection, and convey to the heart, what -all the knowledge of the mind would be unable to grasp. - -A week had elapsed since the death of Madame de Manzay, and her unhappy -family were not yet roused from the first stupor of grief; their hearts -had not yet recovered composure; they had not returned to their usual -habits; no one obeyed, for no one commanded; and each one, engrossed -by his affliction, forgot his duties. There was neither regularity nor -labour; confusion alone reigned in the desolate household. Poor little -Stephen was left all day long to himself; Monsieur de Manzay wandered -about in the park; his daughter shut herself up in her room; and no one -attempted to assist anyone else in supporting the weight of grief, by -which each was oppressed. Caroline, as usual, was weeping in her own -apartment, when an old servant, who had been in the family from the -birth of her father, and who had just seen his master, seated, alone, -in his wife's room, thinking he would like to see his daughter, went to -her, and said, "Pray go, Miss Caroline, to my master. Poor gentleman! -he has no one now but you." - -"And Stephen, Peter; you do not reckon him." - -"Oh! that is quite another thing, miss; master loves the dear little -fellow with all his heart, but he is not company for him; he cannot -talk with him, and divert his thoughts, as you could. Oh! Miss -Caroline, you are the very image of my good mistress; try then to -resemble her in everything. You cannot remember it, for you were too -young, but when my mistress lost four of her children in one year, and -you alone were left--well, miss, it was she who then consoled master. -He was like one distracted, and said he felt tempted to throw himself -in the water, and the poor lady was obliged to appear perfectly calm, -in order to tranquillize him. I have sometimes seen her leave my -master's room, to go and cry, and then she would return, and urge him -to submit to the will of God; she would make him walk with her, or read -aloud to divert his thoughts; she would even amuse him with music: and -how he loved her in return! Oh! Miss Caroline! you had a treasure in -your mother; endeavour to be as good as she was." - -Caroline's sobs prevented her from making any reply; but she held out -her hand to the aged Peter, and rose immediately to follow him to her -father. She was told that he was in the park, and repaired thither; -but, absorbed in her affliction, and in the reflections suggested -by Peter's artless observations, she mistook the path, and did not -perceive her error, for she went on without thinking whither her steps -were directed. For the first time in her life, perhaps, she became -aware that she had a duty to fulfil towards others, and that she was -not placed in this world merely to be loved and indulged. She had -just been told--"_Your father has no one but you._" It was the truth; -but of what use had she been to her father, during the past week? Had -she afforded him consolation or assistance, when, given up to her -own affliction, she had scarcely bestowed a thought on his; when he -had been obliged to try and comfort her, and had sought to do so in -vain; when her tears and cries had shaken the resolution he found it -so difficult to maintain; when she had kept out of his presence, and -abandoned him at the time he most needed her? Was it thus that her -mother had acted, when, struck by misfortune, she had, for the sake of -calming her husband's despair, begun by controlling her own feelings? -Yet who, more than her father, possessed a claim to her active -gratitude, to her affectionate devotion? Her earliest recollections -were associated with his kindness and tenderness. He had consecrated -his leisure to her instruction, relinquished for this purpose studies -in which he took delight, and renounced all recreations but those -which he could share with her; he had made her the companion of his -walks, and allowed her to direct them as she chose. If she wished for -an excursion in the neighbourhood, M. de Manzay would leave all his -occupations to procure this pleasure for her; in a word, he never -refused her a request, and yet her demands had not been few. And what -had she done, on her part, to requite such great affection? How had she -repaid the extreme indulgence of her parents? She loved them heartily, -and they were convinced of this, but she had done nothing more: whilst -they thought only of her, she had never considered them, and had found -it perfectly natural to be continually the recipient of benefits, -without ever giving anything in return. "Oh, how wicked I have been!" -she exclaimed, clasping her hands; "can God ever forgive me, or mamma?" -She threw herself on her knees, and, melting into tears, promised, as -if still in the presence of her whom she could never again behold in -this world, to repair, by her attention to the objects of affection -she had left, the faults which she had committed against her. She -felt that her resolution was accepted and blessed; that the relations -of those who love each other are eternal; and that her mother was -pleased with her earnest endeavours, as she would have been if still -living. She felt that it was her soul which responded to her own, and -inspired her with the love of virtue, the hope of perseverance, the joy -of pardon. She arose, and returned to the château, eager to find her -father, and begin her new part. "Hitherto, he has devoted his life to -me," said she to herself, "now, it shall be my care to live for him;" -and immediately, with the ardour so natural to youth, she depicted -to herself all the various ways in which she could be useful to him, -and was enchanted at the idea of being at last good for something in -the world; no obstacle or difficulty presented itself to her mind, so -natural did the performance of her duty appear to her at this moment. - -On approaching the château, she found Stephen sitting quite alone, -under a tree, crying. "What is the matter, Stephen?" she asked, kissing -him. - -"I am hungry." - -"Hungry! why what o'clock is it?" - -"It is twelve o'clock." - -"But you have already had your breakfast?" - -"No; Mary forgot to make my soup. Nobody thinks about me now that mamma -is gone." - -"I will think of you, my dear child. Come with me, I will get you -some breakfast, and tomorrow you shall not have to wait so long." On -entering the house, she inquired for her father. She was told that he -had come in, and had asked for her, and, after waiting some time, had -gone out again. "But he has had his breakfast, I suppose?" - -"No, miss, the cook has gone out." - -"Things must not go on thus," thought Caroline; "I must have some order -in the household." She perceived at this moment her father coming in, -and hastened to meet him; she was eager to have some conversation with -him, and impart to him her good resolutions; but the very first was, -to attend to others rather than herself, and she therefore sacrificed -to Stephen's appetite her desire of communicating to her father her -new projects. After breakfast, M. de Manzay was going towards his -wife's sitting-room, where he passed all the time which he spent -in-doors. Caroline, who wished to follow him, paused for an instant -at this sight: she never yet had sufficient resolution to enter her -mother's apartment, and trembled at the idea of revisiting a spot -so filled with her image. "But how can I ever be of service to my -father, if I cannot go where it is his desire always to remain? Come, -I must go to him;" and, making an effort to command her feelings, she -went to her father. Surprised and pleased to see her in this room, -where his recollections became almost realities, he embraced her with -even more than his wonted tenderness; and, comparing, with a pleasure -mingled with grief, the portrait of his wife with the features of his -daughter,--"Oh, my child!" he exclaimed at length, his voice checked -by tears, "I have only you now." She threw her arms round him, and for -some time neither father nor daughter could utter a word. At length, -overcoming her emotion, she said, "My dear papa, I have hitherto done -very wrong, but I will endeavour to repair my faults. I have been a -selfish, ungrateful child, and lived only for myself; henceforth my -life shall be devoted to you. Forgive me for having been so useless -to you; forget the past; you shall see that I am no longer the same, -and you shall be satisfied with my conduct. Kiss me, dear papa; I will -correct all my faults, and endeavour to be like mamma." - -"God bless you, my child, for having formed such a project! but you are -very young to make even the attempt." - -"Not too young, I hope. I shall hardly succeed at first, but the -recollection of mamma will come to my assistance. I know what she used -to do, and I will endeavour to imitate her. I will come and see you in -your study, and be always ready to give up my own occupations to please -you. I will give Stephen his lessons. I will keep the accounts. You -shall see how steady I will be; only try me, papa." - -"Do what you like, my child; I am in no state to make any decision; -I can think of nothing. I leave you mistress of the house, of your -brother, of myself. If there are still any peaceful moments in store -for me on this earth, I shall enjoy them through you, and you alone." - -"And Stephen, papa, you forget him." - -"Poor child! no, I do not forget him; go and bring him here." - -Caroline brought her little brother to her father, who took him in his -arms, saying, "Stephen, you loved dear mamma, did you not?" - -"With all my heart," replied the child, sobbing. - -"And you were also obedient to her. Well, now you must love your -sister, and obey her; she will be a mother to you henceforward." - -"Would you like it, Stephen?" asked Caroline, "would you like me to -take care of you, and give you your lessons?" - -"Yes, if you promise not to scold me." - -"My dear child, I will not scold you; I will try to be kind like mamma." - -"Oh, you are very kind already, I am sure," said Stephen, caressing his -sister, "only sometimes you get out of patience, and that frightens me." - -"Make yourself easy, I intend to grow better; but you must also be very -good, to please papa, who has so much sorrow." - -"Oh! yes; for that I will learn my lessons better than I used to do." - -"My beloved children," said M. de Manzay, encircling them both in his -arms, "my dear children, this is the first moment of comfort I have had -for a week past. Go, my own Caroline, assume your new functions; take -possession of the keys; direct, command, re-establish the regularity -which formerly reigned in the house; take the same care of your brother -that he has been accustomed to; but first come to me, that I may give -you my blessing, before the portrait of your mother." - -After some moments devoted to these tender and afflicting emotions, -Caroline left the room with Stephen. Her first care was to see if his -apartment was in order: she found it completely stripped of all the -articles which he was in the habit of using. - -"What has become of your little table, Stephen?" she enquired. - -"Oh! I dare say it is in the garden; I took it there the day before -yesterday, and they have forgotten to bring it in." - -"And your arm-chair?" - -"I tied it to Turk's tail, for a carriage, and he broke it." - -"You might have expected as much, my dear." - -"What could I do? I was alone, and tired of doing nothing." - -"You have recollected, I hope, to give water to your birds." - -"Oh! gracious! I have never given them any but once. Poor creatures! -they must be very thirsty. But, Caroline, do not scold me, it is not -my fault. Every morning, mamma used to ask me if I had taken water and -seeds to my birds, leaves to my rabbits, and grass to my fawn; and now, -who is there to think of all these things?" - -"I will. Let us go to your aviary, and I will talk to you by the way." - -Caroline then explained to her brother all her plans concerning him. -She told him that he should work with her, and that she would amuse -him, and take care of all his things; in a word, that she would, as -far as possible, supply the place of a mother to him. She had his -books brought into her sitting-room, and such of his playthings as he -had been accustomed to keep in his mother's apartment; she gave him a -shelf in her library, and the lower part of a closet, and established -his little table by the window, as he wished. At first, she intended -to place it elsewhere, for this was her own favourite place; but she -recollected that last year, when she had remarked that her mamma was -happy in being able to enjoy, while sitting at table, the prospect over -the valley, her mother had yielded to her the place she coveted. "I -cannot be so good as mamma," she thought, "unless I do as she did, so I -will remove my table from the window." - -Such were the feelings and views with which Caroline undertook -the reformation of her character, and she begun the task with the -blind ardour so natural to youth: that happy privilege bestowed by -Providence, to remove all hesitation from their resolutions, and leave -nothing doubtful but the execution. But this first strong and happy -impulse does not always last; when the sentiment which gave it birth -ceases to be exclusive, things which had been forgotten reappear, the -realities of life and the peculiarities of character resume their -claims, and what we still desire above all things is, nevertheless, -not our sole object. This was precisely the case with Caroline. For a -considerable time her heart was so full of the idea of her great loss, -of the remembrance of her faults, of her affection for her father, -and of the new pleasure of exerting herself for the sake of others, -that she could not form a thought exclusively for herself, and would -have been indignant had she been desired to do so; but when, after the -lapse of several months, life had returned to its uniform course, when -business was again attended to, and all the family had resumed their -usual habits, she perceived how completely her own had been overturned. -The time which she formerly employed, according to her fancy, was no -longer her own; a great part of it was absorbed by her little brother, -and her pursuits were also frequently interrupted by her father. As -long as he had a friend constantly at hand, he might be always disposed -to accommodate himself to the arrangements of his daughter, but now -that this friend was no more, Caroline was required to replace her, -and became his property: their positions were changed, and the effect -of this was perpetually felt, and the more strikingly in proportion as -their first deep affliction subsided by degrees, and M. de Manzay was -able to take some interest in the scenes around him, and his daughter -to enter into her own employments. - -It will readily be believed that, in a young person of sixteen, a -change of this nature could not be made easily, or completely carried -out from the first. In order to maintain it, Caroline was obliged to -exert much self-control, and she often failed of success. It would -sometimes happen that she kept her brother waiting to repeat his -lesson, because she was reading an interesting book, or playing an -air that she liked; on other occasions, she would defer the household -accounts for several days whilst she was finishing a drawing, or -completing a piece of embroidery; and occasionally her father could -read so plainly in her countenance that she had no interest in what he -proposed, that he would give up his intention, not without a melancholy -retrospect of the days when whatever he wished became immediately the -earnest object of another. Yet it must also be said that Caroline -acknowledged and regretted all her faults, and very often repaired -them so promptly and so thoroughly, that they almost became a merit, -and led to fresh improvement. Stephen never found her so kind and -patient, or her father so affectionately devoted to him, as when she -had to reproach herself with some act of impatience or caprice; and, -generally speaking, she quickly recovered herself. To give one instance -amongst others:--It was several months after the death of Madame de -Manzay, and everything had been placed as far as possible on its former -footing in the château, and tranquillity and peace, the more valuable -in proportion as happiness is wanting, were reestablished in the house, -when, one day, M. de Manzay entered his daughter's apartment with a -letter in his hand. "Caroline," he said, "would you like Denis to come -and live with us for some time?" - -"Oh, no, certainly not. I do not want him; he is insufferable." - -"But, my dear, his guardian is lately dead, and Denis, as you know, is -on bad terms with the wife, so that he cannot remain with her: where -can he go, unless he comes to Primini?" - -"Let him go where he likes. Why does he make himself detested by every -one? Oh! I should not have a moment's peace if he were here; I would -rather go away myself than remain with him. Pray, papa, write word at -once that you cannot have him." - -"I will write and say that _you_ would rather not; for my own part, I -will assuredly not be the person to refuse to receive your mother's -nephew;" and M. de Manzay left the room. Caroline was struck with these -last words, and with the tone in which they were uttered. "_My mother's -nephew_," thought she; "but Denis does not in the least resemble mamma; -he is as unamiable as she was good: yet my father appears to regret -him: perhaps he thinks that Denis will be cured of his faults--but that -cannot be, for he never listens to a word that is said to him. However, -he must not be left in the streets; besides, if my father wishes him to -come here, that is the most important point. Well! I must be patient, -and, after all, he will not eat me." - -Caroline rose, after having made these brief reflections, and repaired -to her father's room. He was pacing the apartment with a pensive air, -still holding in his hand the letter which announced the death of -Denis's guardian. - -"My dear papa," said she, "I come to request you to invite Denis to -come to us." - -"Indeed, my dear." - -"Yes; just now I was still more unreasonable than he is: pray be so -kind as to think no more of it, and to write for Denis." - -"You are a good girl, and I promise you to prevent him from tormenting -you." - -"Oh! no, papa, do not trouble yourself about the matter; I know that -these petty grievances are very annoying to you, and I will find means -to manage. Perhaps he may have learned to behave better than formerly, -and I am certainly less childish than I was a year ago. Make yourself -easy, papa, all shall go on well." - -A fortnight after this conversation, Denis arrived at his uncle's -house. He was fifteen, but his reason was not in proportion to his age. -Endowed with great strength and unconquerable activity, he delighted -only in noise and commotion, and, if he was fond of teazing, it was -only to produce this commotion. Anything was acceptable to him but -quiet: the anger of a child, the insults of a servant, the barking of a -dog, all answered his purpose, and he would not have cared to teaze an -animal unless it cried out. During his first visit to Primini, Stephen -had been a great assistance to him. Sometimes he would torment him, -and amuse himself with his anger; sometimes he would divert him, and -laugh at the displeasure which this occasioned to Caroline; and, if -the latter became seriously angry, Denis had attained the height of -his wishes. He was not ill-disposed, but he could not endure _ennui_, -and he knew not how to avoid it by rational occupations. Brought up -in the country, and much spoiled by his guardian, he had taken more -interest in the employments of the labourers, the gardeners, and the -gamekeepers, than in the lessons which he from time to time received -from the masters, who came from the neighbouring town. He never took up -a book, unless he met with accounts of voyages, and battles, tales of -robbers, or ghost stories; and his greatest ambition was to lead the -life of a corsair some day, or to go and live amongst the savages, and -endeavour to be chosen as the chief of a tribe. He was brave, adroit, -and capable of generous actions, but he was violent and wilful, and -through his excessive activity was becoming a torment to himself and -others. - -Such was the guest whose arrival Caroline dreaded and certainly not -without reason. When he entered the drawing-room, where all the family -was assembled, he rushed forward so abruptly to embrace his uncle, that -he overturned a table which stood in his way; the lamp which was upon -it fell upon Stephen, struck him severely, and covered him with oil. -He began to cry, and Caroline, running to him, wounded her foot with -a piece of the broken glass. In a word, the arrival of Denis was a -signal for noise and confusion; and, what was still worse, Caroline was -much disposed to be angry with him, and demand whether he would never -learn to be more careful--but she restrained herself, recollecting the -promise she had given to her father that all should go well; and, when -tranquillity was a little restored, she embraced her cousin cordially, -and received him in a very friendly manner. During some days all went -on tolerably well; Denis had so much to see that he did not require -the aid of others to pass away his time; besides, notwithstanding his -rudeness, he was not altogether exempt from that kind of shyness, which -is not unusual with those who can neither conform to the established -usages of society, nor entirely shake off their exactions. He was -always ill at ease with persons with whom he was not completely -familiar; indeed, he generally withdrew when a stranger came in; and -the few days which were required to renew his acquaintance with the -inhabitants of Primini were agreeable enough to them, and very painful -to himself: but this state of things did not long continue, he soon -recovered the freedom of his disposition and manners, and the effect -of this upon the tranquillity of the château was speedily felt. At his -first attacks, Caroline, who had prepared herself to bear everything -with patience, supported her cousin's tricks without complaint, picked -up a dozen times the reel of cotton which he threw down, re-lighted the -taper which he extinguished, or replaced before her piano the chair -which he removed as soon as she left it. One day, however, Denis, weary -of his ineffectual attempts to put her out of temper, after having -tried in vain during the whole of a rainy morning, began to teaze -Stephen, and smeared with ink a picture which he held in his hand. The -child burst into tears, and Caroline, excited by his vexation, and by -the impatience which she had so long curbed, was now seriously angry. - -"Leave my room, Denis," she cried, "it really is impossible to live -with you. Not satisfied with trying the whole day to provoke me, you -must now make poor Stephen cry. Go away, I will not have you stay in my -room." - -"Then you must put me out of the door yourself, for I shall not stir." - -"You will not go! Am I not mistress in my own apartment?" - -"Certainly, if you can only make yourself obeyed;" and, so saying, -Denis placed himself in an arm-chair. - -"I will go and fetch my father." - -"As you please; I am not afraid of my uncle, he is much kinder than you -are." - -Caroline hastened to M. de Manzay's room; she was ready to cry, and her -flushed cheeks betrayed her vivid emotion. - -"Papa," she said, "will you come and order Denis to quit my room?" - -"Why do you wish to turn him out?" - -"He teazes me, and makes Stephen cry; it is impossible to have any -peace with him,--he makes me quite miserable." - -"Well, then, let him return to Paris." - -"No--I only want him to leave my room." - -"That would settle the question to-day, but to-morrow he might begin -again; and I will not have to interfere perpetually in your quarrels." - -"This is the first time, papa, I have ever applied to you." - -"The same thing will be recurring every day. I would rather he should -go--he must be sent to college." - -"Send Denis to college, papa! He would be expelled directly." - -"So much the worse for him; there will be nothing left for him but to -go to sea; that is, after all, the best profession for him, and I will -not have him render you unhappy." - -"But, papa, would it not be better to prevent him from doing so, by -obliging him to behave more reasonably?" - -"It would be insufferable to me, to be obliged to be always looking -after him. I require tranquillity. I will send Denis away if you like -it, but to be perpetually watching him is what I cannot do." - -"Then," she exclaimed, in tears, "I must be the victim of this -mischievous boy." - -"No, certainly; that shall not be the case: he shall go at once. Call -my nephew," said M. de Manzay to a gardener, who was at work in front -of the window. - -"He is not in the château, sir," replied the man; "he has just gone -down towards the mill with Master Stephen." - -"With Stephen!" repeated M. de Manzay. "What were you telling me then -just now, Caroline?" - -"They seem to have made up their quarrel, papa, and I will follow their -example, for I could not suffer Denis to be sent away." - -"So much the better, for this time I will pass over his conduct, but at -the very first dispute---- - -"There shall be none, papa; or, at least, you shall not be troubled -about the matter." - -"Thank you, my dear child, embrace me. You are a good girl, and the -joy of your poor father's heart." And M. de Manzay pressed Caroline to -his bosom with the utmost tenderness, grateful for the decision which -spared his weakness. When she had quitted him, she reflected on her -position. She saw clearly that it was in vain to seek from her father -any support against Denis, for, although he had not the same affection -for him as he felt towards herself, he was almost as much afraid of -opposing him: not that Denis was ill-disposed, but he was so eager -about what he wished, and had so determined a will, that his uncle -hesitated to resist him; and it would have been a thousand times less -painful to him to send Denis away, in order to spare his daughter a -moment's uneasiness, than to watch over his conduct, and prevent him -from being so troublesome and disagreeable. - -It was, therefore, in herself alone that she must seek a remedy for the -inconveniences occasioned by her cousin's disposition. It was only by -her own calmness and superior sense that she could make him ashamed of -his resolution to teaze her. She had already occasionally experienced -the happy effects of apparent indifference, and he had more than once -desisted from his mischievous tricks, when he found that they did not -attain his object. The only plan, then, was to be habitually so patient -as to weary him out, and induce him to seek amusements less annoying -to others. This being the case, her own tranquillity, and that of her -father, must depend upon herself, and for this it was worth while to -make some efforts. Yes, undoubtedly, it was well worth while, but such -efforts were not so easy as Caroline had imagined, as she quickly found -by experience. She said to herself, beforehand, that, after all, she -need not be so very unhappy, because Denis would gather her choicest -flowers, trample on her flower-beds, disturb her silkworms, or meddle -with her herbal; that domestic tranquillity was more valuable than -these trifles; and that she had but to sacrifice them at once and -entirely: but, if she could bear calmly, though not without a secret -struggle, the malicious tricks which her cousin played her, and was not -angry once in a dozen times that she was tempted to be so, and that -he well deserved it, she could not behold Stephen's vexations with -the same equanimity, and when he began to cry her indignation would -burst forth. This was, however, bad policy; for Denis then enjoyed a -double triumph, which was the more agreeable to him because it was -so easily gained. Poor Caroline had, therefore, to pass many unhappy -moments; and, whether she succeeded in commanding herself or not, she -was continually vexed and agitated, and was every day surprised to find -life so full of hardships, and duty so difficult. - -But she had also to encounter other difficulties, which were quite -unexpected, and which she could not overcome by mere force of will, and -a determination to conquer them. The greater part of these difficulties -did not arise from within, from her own habits and disposition, from -her old aversion to contradiction, and still more to restraint; -they came from without, and had their source in the prejudices and -passions of others; and upright intentions and firm resolution were -not sufficient immediately to overcome them. Caroline had excited -many unfavourable prejudices, which, however just in some respects, -were unjust in their exclusive severity: it was necessary for her to -triumph over these,--necessary, but difficult; and she learned to -see how intimate is the connection in our destinies, what lengthened -responsibility may attach to an action, in appearance the most -trivial, and how indispensable it is to act to the best of our ability -in all things, if we would have a conscience free from the fear of -consequences. - -Two years had now elapsed since Caroline had lost her mother. M. de -Manzay had regained sufficient self-command to occupy himself with the -education of Stephen. The hunting season detained Denis at a distance -from the château; and Caroline, being now accustomed to the management -of household affairs, was not obliged to devote so much time to them; -and, having become more reasonable, she employed her remaining hours -better, and consequently found more leisure than formerly, although -in reality she had much more to do. She was particularly struck by -the details given in a newspaper of the happy results produced in -the village of L----, by the establishment of a school and working -institution for girls, according to the method of mutual instruction. -All night her head was full of the subject, and the next day, as soon -as she rose, she went and proposed to her father to found a similar -school of industry in the village, near their château, and offered to -undertake its direction. - -"We must send for a person who understands the method from one of the -Paris schools," she said, "we can then form the establishment and train -the monitors; when they are sufficiently instructed, the management of -the children will be entrusted to them, and I shall superintend them. -That was the plan adopted at L----." - -"I ask nothing better, my dear; it will be useful to the village, and -afford you occupation. Think over the matter again, and, if you persist -in your project, we will speak of it to the curé." - -"Why speak to him? It is not his business." - -"The education of his parishioners is, in a certain sense, his -business; and his opposition would be a great obstacle." - -"But surely he would not oppose it; he ought to be pleased when the -poor are benefited." - -"He is no doubt very charitable, but he is also self-willed. You know -I have never been able to hold intercourse with him upon any point -whatever. He would not even recommend a beggar to me." - -"Very true, but he cannot refuse our proposal. Oh! how happy I shall be -when the plan is carried into effect." - -Caroline had several conversations with her father on the subject, -and was delighted at the idea of being useful to all those little -girls, who were so wretched and so ignorant. The day on which it was -at length decided between them that the school should be established, -she went out full of joy to take a walk. She was musing over her -projects, considering in what manner she could render herself beloved -and respected by the children, and gain their confidence--thought over -the rewards she would give, and the good advice she would address to -them--in a word, she was at this moment quite happy, and foresaw no -difficulty, when she met the curé, who was returning from a visit to a -sick person. He bowed, and would have passed without speaking to her, -but, with the confidence natural to her age and character, she stopped -him saying, "Monsieur le Curé, I have something to tell you." - -"Indeed! Miss Caroline; what can it be?" replied the curé, with an air -of surprise and almost of severity. "It appears to me that we have -not much connection with each other, and that you occupy yourself but -little with the sort of affairs that interest me." - -"But I wish to occupy myself with them, and that is what I have to tell -you about. My father intends to establish a school of industry in the -village." - -"For what purpose? We have already a schoolmistress." - -"She is old and half deaf, they say; besides she has not a good method -of teaching." - -"How do you know that? You have never visited the school." - -"I shall go every day to the new school; I shall be superintendent." - -"You understand, then, what is to be taught?" - -"I suppose I know how to read and write." - -"Yes, but the catechism; you are probably not acquainted with that; for -you do not set a very good example to our young girls." - -"How! Monsieur le Curé," exclaimed Caroline, colouring with anger and -vexation; "what do you mean?" - -"I mean, young lady, that you often come into church after the service -has begun, and sometimes go away before it is over." - -"Oh, Monsieur le Curé, it is a very long time since that has happened." - -"I know nothing about that; I have not time to pay attention to the -exact days, but it is really a scandal." - -"Monsieur le Curé, I now always remain the whole time. Pray inquire if, -for the last two years, I have not come in very punctually." - -"Yes; and do you no longer give bad advice as you used to do formerly?" - -"I never gave any one bad advice." - -"You forget that, in consequence of your interrupting the gardener's -daughter in her attendance on the catechism, you caused her first -communion to be deferred, and that, when you saw her crying on that -account, you told her it was no great misfortune, and gave her a -neck-handkerchief to console her, so that she ended by saying that it -did not much matter whether she made her first communion then or not, -and that a year sooner or later was all the same to her. Perhaps you do -not recollect also, that when your milkwoman, Dame Joan, wanted to send -her daughter to her old mother, and that Matty did not like going, you -told her that her mother was very ill-natured to oppose her wishes, and -that your parents let you do whatever you pleased." - -"But, Monsieur le Curé, I was then a child; it is more than three years -ago." - -"You have now, then, become reasonable, I suppose, Caroline?" - -"You know I have, Monsieur le Curé.' - -"And how should I know it? Have you ever told me so?" - -"How could I tell you? We never see you at the château." - -"Where, then, could I learn the alteration of which you speak? Have I -seen any effects of it? Do you ever visit our poor? Have you given good -advice to our young girls? Have you procured work for their mothers? -You talk of superintending a school of industry; do you even know how -to hem a duster? It is said that you do not. No, Miss Caroline; go and -play on the piano, work at your embroidery, amuse yourself, but do not -pretend to teach others: there we can do without you." - -"Oh! how severe you are, Monsieur le Curé," said poor Caroline. - -"I am but just, Miss Caroline. I am aware that this is not the way they -speak to you at the château; but things are not the better for that." - -"Why have you not given me good advice? I should have profited by it." - -"To be sure I ought to have done so, in order that M. de Manzay might -ridicule it!" - -"My father has never ridiculed you, Monsieur le Curé." - -"That is hardly probable. He opposes me constantly. Not a week ago he -prevented the municipal council from doing what I requested: he had the -upper hand then, now it is my turn. Good evening, Miss Caroline; you -will not establish your school." - -[Illustration: Caroline repulsed by the Curé, p. 332.] - -Having thus spoken, the curé bowed, and left her, without waiting for a -reply. The poor child was thunderstruck at finding herself the object -of so much severity, prejudice, and injustice. "What have I done, -then," she exclaimed, in tears, "to give such a bad opinion of me? I -wish well to every one, and no one loves me. Oh, how ill-natured the -world is--nobody has been kind to me but papa and mamma; and mamma is -no longer with us!" Caroline abandoned herself for some time to all the -bitterness of her heart, and was indignant at this malevolence, without -at all considering whether it were altogether gratuitous, or whether -it might not have some foundation. However, as she reflected on the -reproofs of the curé, they brought to her recollection other occasions -on which she might have justly incurred his censure. By continued -reflection and self-examination, she at last perceived, that she -must formerly have given a sufficiently bad opinion of herself to all -the grave heads of the village, and that she had done nothing since -calculated to change that opinion. Fully occupied with her father, -towards whom alone she felt that she had been deficient, and with her -brother, whom she considered as a sacred legacy from her mother, it -had not for a moment occurred to her that strangers might have reason -to complain, or pass an unfavourable judgment upon her conduct; nor -that approbation might be refused, even when her actions deserved it. -"It is quite natural," she said, at length; "why should Monsieur le -Curé suppose that I have corrected my faults? He would not enquire -of my father if I now comply with all his wishes, or ask Stephen if -I am a patient teacher, or Denis whether I bear with him better than -formerly. Since I wish to persuade him of the change which has taken -place in me, I must begin by giving him proofs of it. I will do all -I can, but it will take a long time, for Monsieur le Curé does not -give up his notions very readily. I must ask my father to wait before -he establishes the school." Monsieur de Manzay was surprised, like -his daughter, at the prejudices which existed against her; he loved -her so tenderly, and found in her so many charming qualities, that he -could never have calculated the effects of her faults, and he found -it difficult to conceive that any one could look upon his Caroline -with other eyes than his own. However, he entered into her views, -and readily consented to her wish to postpone the execution of her -benevolent projects, in order to carry them out more effectually. - -A few days after that on which the curé had treated her so harshly, -Caroline met him again. He bowed to her with more amenity than on the -former occasion, for he had reproached himself most heartily for having -repulsed with such asperity the good intentions of so young a person, -and one who showed so much enthusiasm. He had besides, made some -inquiries about her during the interval; had spoken to persons who kept -up an intercourse with the château; and all he had heard increased his -regret. He was therefore glad to meet her, and hastened to address her. -"How is your little brother, Miss Caroline?" he inquired; "I hear that -he has a cold." - -"Thank you, Monsieur le Curé, he is better to-day." They remained -some moments silent, each wishing to say something, but not knowing -exactly where to begin. Caroline at length broke the silence: "Monsieur -le Curé, you were very hard upon me the other day; but you taught me -something of which I was completely ignorant, and which it was very -necessary I should know. I had forgotten my childish follies, and did -not imagine that others would remember them; you have rendered me a -service by undeceiving me; I entreat you now to assist me in convincing -every one--and yourself especially--that I have altered for the better. -What must I do for this purpose? I am ready to follow your advice." - -"My dear young lady," replied the curé with a gentleness which was -unusual to him, "I perceive clearly that you are very much improved, -for formerly you resented the slightest remonstrance, and now you -bear with sweetness even harshness and injustice. I have been really -grieved, I assure you, that I was so hard upon you the other day. When -I was at some distance, I said to myself: Now, here is this child of -sixteen, who was never contradicted in her life, and yet is as patient -as a lamb when severe things are said to her; whilst I, an old priest, -who fifty years ago renounced the world and its passions, am angry -and repulse her good resolutions. Instead of killing the fatted calf, -I shut the door against the returning prodigal; and yet, poor little -thing, she has done no great harm; she can only be reproached with -childish conduct." - -"Indeed! Monsieur le Curé," cried Caroline, joyfully, "you really -thought all this? Oh! how grateful I am to you!" - -"You have nothing to thank me for, my dear young lady, it is but common -justice. I much wished to pay you a visit at the château, to express my -regret, but I dared not, it is so long since I have seen Monsieur de -Manzay, and I responded so ill last week to his request for additional -seats in the church, that I did not know how he might receive me; but -you are very kind I see, and you will not be offended with an old man -who has not yet learned to command his temper. Oh! my child, you are -young, and in the season of vigour; for the love of God, employ all the -strength you possess in mastering your passions. This is the real duty -of man, as the Scripture says. To be benevolent and compassionate, to -possess a generous heart and an exalted character, to act so as to make -yourself beloved by every one, all this is much in the sight of God -and man, and all this I believe you will be; but still all this is not -sufficient, and, in conjunction with so many good qualities, may exist -great faults, which will prepare for us many regrets. Witness me, for -instance, my dear young lady; I am not good for much, but I may say -that I love my parishioners, and that I desire their welfare with all -my heart. Your father has the best intentions possible, and is full of -compassion for the poor, and yet I ask nothing from him, and take no -advantage of so good a neighbour: and why is this? Because the first -time I met him, four years ago, when he had just completed the purchase -of this estate, I heard him praise the Revolution, and say that it was -a glorious event. From that moment all was at an end between us; he -appeared to my imagination a Jacobin, ready to set fire to our church, -and oblige us again to say mass under the shelter of the woods; and I -would never hear of any intercourse with him. I am no longer of that -opinion, Miss Caroline: I perceive that it is possible to be a very -peaceful, and a very honest man, and yet speak well of the Revolution; -and several times I have been tempted to renew intercourse with -Monsieur de Manzay, but various things have turned out unfavourably. -He had a master removed whom I patronised; he decided the municipal -council to employ upon a road the money which I had asked for a bell; -and when you spoke to me about the school, I fancied it was to oppose -me that he chose to have another in these new methods, of which I know -nothing, and in which, therefore, I could not interfere. There is my -confession, my dear young lady. Now give me your hand, for yourself, -and for Monsieur de Manzay; assure me that you bear me no ill-will; and -tell me what are your projects." - -"I have none for the present, Monsieur le Curé," replied Caroline, -greatly moved, as she placed her hand in that of the old man. "I have -no plan, but to follow your advice in everything. Tell me what I must -do, in order to make the villagers forget that I was formerly a very -unreasonable child." - -"My dear young lady, you need only be the same at Montfort that you are -at the château. I have asked a great deal about you since the other -day, and have heard much in your favour, but these things are not known -amongst our people, and it is a pity. Observe, Miss Caroline, that you -cannot be useful to our poor people, without becoming acquainted with -them, and making them acquainted with you. Go and see them sometimes; -I assure you that you would become attached to them; and when you are -familiar with their wants and have acquired their confidence, we will -talk of your school, if you like." - -At this moment the bell of the château rang for dinner, and Caroline -was obliged to take leave of the curé. They parted on the best -terms possible, and the very next day she began her visits to the -poor inhabitants of Montfort: but her project was not easy of -accomplishment. The curé had not exaggerated the prejudices of which -she was the object; and, to those which affected her personally, were -united other grounds of dislike, of which she was totally innocent. -The arrival of Monsieur de Manzay in this part of the country, had -not been looked on with favour, because he succeeded a proprietor who -was much beloved by the inhabitants, and who had been obliged, by -misfortune, to sell the estate. In order to banish the remembrance of -this unfavourable commencement, Monsieur and Madame de Manzay must -have been to the inhabitants of Montfort all that Monsieur and Madame -de Solanges had been. The latter, without children, without any lively -affections, or high powers of mind, but endowed with that intelligent -activity which is so great a resource in the various relations of -life, took much interest in all the affairs of the peasantry, gave -them advice and assistance, and were to them a sort of visible and -friendly Providence, whose aid they believed could never fail. With -Monsieur and Madame de Manzay all was very different: concentrated in -their domestic circle, in the happiness of conscious mutual affection, -in the care of their children, and in the elevated pleasures derived -from highly cultivated minds, they paid little attention to anything -beyond the very small circle of their affections. They were supposed to -be indifferent, because they were exclusive; proud, because they were -absorbed in themselves: and the departure of Monsieur and Madame de -Solanges was a continued source of regret. Caroline was, therefore, not -received with much pleasure at Montfort, and it often required great -forbearance on her part not to abandon the inhabitants of the village -to their unreasonableness and injustice, and renounce all her plans: -even the curé himself, whom she had seen so well disposed, often fell -back into his old prejudices against her and her family. Sometimes he -would be influenced by the ill-humour of some of the village gossips, -and sometimes the appearance of a dress or bonnet a little fashionable -would induce him to say that Caroline was better fitted for the gay -society of Paris than for the country, and that she would not do as -much good in her whole life, as Madame de Solanges in a single hour. -Sometimes he was angry because she did not compel all the household -to attend church, but left every one at liberty in this respect; at -others, Monsieur de Manzay, as mayor, had to support the rights of the -commune against the encroachments of the curé, and the latter vented -his displeasure on poor Caroline, and would hardly answer her when she -wished to communicate to him her remarks, her views, and her hopes. The -elections, when Monsieur de Manzay voted for the opposition candidate, -retarded the establishment of the school at Montfort three months; not -that the curé interested himself deeply in politics, but his friends -took up the question with so much warmth, that they succeeded in -inflaming him, and for more than six weeks he never set foot in the -château. - -Caroline found it difficult, without becoming morose, to fortify -herself against all these obstacles; to maintain calmness under -disappointment, yet keep up the same lively interest in success. -Indeed, I know not if the welfare of the inhabitants of Montfort, -her conviction that she had duties to fulfil towards them, and that -God would not have given her the means, without imposing on her the -obligation of being useful, would always have sufficed to support -her under this arduous struggle--and if she might not, in a moment -of discouragement, have said to herself, that she was no longer -responsible towards persons who rejected all her efforts for their -benefit,--had not another sentiment come to her aid, and softened the -unpleasantness of her enterprise. She had perceived, with sorrow, that -her mother was not beloved at Montfort as she deserved to be. Her -first impulse was that of violent irritation and bitter displeasure -against those who failed to do justice to Madame de Manzay; but a -little reflection corrected this feeling, and she considered that the -best homage she could render to the memory of her mother, would be -to acquire the affection of her neighbours, to such a degree, that -some portion of it might be reflected upon her by whose remembrance -she was guided and encouraged: this idea rendered every sacrifice -and every effort more easy to her; she found nothing difficult, when -the aim was to call down blessings on the name of her mother, and -to efface the unjust prejudice which even death had been unable to -destroy. Her filial efforts were crowned with success; she saw all her -desires accomplished; and became the successor, with the inhabitants -of Montfort, to the attachment which they had retained for Monsieur -and Madame de Solanges. They ceased to regret that Monsieur de Manzay -had come to settle amongst them, and very soon began to congratulate -themselves on that event; for Caroline, who was all-powerful with her -father, induced him to have more intercourse with his neighbours, -and by that means he was frequently able to be of service to them. A -fountain was required in the town. Caroline begged her father to have -one constructed, and to name it after her mother, so that her memory -might be connected, in the minds of the people, with the idea of a -benefit. The curé united with her in the distribution of relief to the -poor: Caroline gave away flax for spinning, potatoes, meal; Monsieur -de Manzay kept in store faggots and turf; and the curé recommended to -them those who were really distressed and deserving of assistance. The -school and the work-room were established, and the children made rapid -progress. Thus, in the course of a few years, the inhabitants of the -château and those of the village found their position, with regard to -each other, completely altered; instead of being grievous and hurtful, -they had been rendered agreeable and useful, through the exertions of a -young girl, who, against the difficulties of the present, drew all her -strength from her regret for the past, and her hopes for the future. - -But if the salutary influence of Caroline extended itself abroad, it -was not, on that account, the less active, or the less efficacious, at -home, in the bosom of her own family. In a very few years, everything -at Primini had undergone a change. Monsieur de Manzay, who was formerly -acquainted only with the enjoyments of the heart, and the pleasures of -the intellect, whose life passed away in generous but useless emotions, -in beautiful but sterile conceptions, who never sought to communicate -his ideas to others, and found, in the disinterested contemplation of -truth, sufficient to delight his heart and satisfy his conscience, was, -unknown to himself, raised from this state of careless languor, which -he had looked upon almost as a merit, and learned to consider it a -fault. Caroline, no longer a child, matured by misfortune, and anxious -to associate herself with all the tastes and occupations of her father, -directed towards the subjects which interested him the energy which -had formerly been expended on her own fancies. She very soon became -acquainted with his opinions, and adopted them. But it was not merely -for her personal satisfaction that she entered into them so deeply. -Endowed with great strength of will, and full of the ardour of her -age, it was inconceivable to her, that any one should consider he had -fulfilled his duty to the cause of truth, while yet he did nothing to -promote its triumphs, nor felt the necessity of imparting that of which -he cherished the belief. This disposition in the daughter reacted on -the father. Monsieur de Manzay, at first, contented himself with taking -the steps which Caroline requested, out of complaisance to her. He -expected no other result than the pleasure which she derived from them, -and the affectionate gratitude which she evinced towards him. But, when -success had several times crowned his efforts, when exertions, which -he fancied useless, had brought back to constitutional principles a -neighbour who had been enlisted on the other side, by prejudices easy -to be overcome; when an appeal to the proper authority had obtained -the redress of an illegal act; when a journey to the principal town had -been of essential service to an election, important to the country; or, -when the farmers had consented to adopt new and advantageous methods -of culture, Monsieur de Manzay congratulated himself on having yielded -to the entreaties of his daughter, and began to think that men are -naturally accessible to reason, and that to induce them to submit to -it completely, there is often nothing more required than to present it -to them in their own way. Such a conviction was encouraging, and made -him wish to employ, for the advantage of his neighbours, all those -facilities for serving them which he enjoyed, in the possession of a -superior understanding and extensive knowledge. He became more intimate -with them, and was useful to almost all. Old emigrants, strangers to -what was passing around them, to whom liberty was but revolution, and -monarchy the old _régime_, learned, by their intercourse with him, that -it was possible to be a friend to representative government, without -approving the crimes of the Convention; that a man might love equality, -without being, necessarily, ill-bred; that the king's authority gains -nothing from being served by bad ministers; and that there is no -rebellion in preferring an honest man, brought in by the opposition, -but of good ability, and well-known amongst his fellow-citizens, to a -designing fellow, without merit, who is sent from Paris, or imposed -on the electors by a circular. Young people, on the contrary, led by -discontent with what is around them to admire all that existed thirty -years back, were convinced, by conversing with Monsieur de Manzay, that -everything was not to be regretted in the times of the Revolution or -of the Empire; and that because the past was very different from the -present, it had not the less been often very bad. Aged men, full of -the ideas of the last century, obstinately refused all the demands of -the curé, and applauded themselves on the success of this obstinacy, -as a victory in the good cause; Monsieur de Manzay led them back to -more reasonable sentiments, and the curé, in his turn, ceased to attack -them. In a word, Monsieur de Manzay, from a solitary and unknown man, -became a communicative and influential one; his power of being useful -was thus increased, and consequently his happiness; and for these -advantages he was indebted to his daughter. - -Stephen was also a gainer by the new order of ideas which had been -introduced into the family. His sister, convinced by her own experience -of the disadvantages of a too desultory education, felt it to be a -matter of much importance that his should be conducted with regularity. -She prevailed on her father to give him fixed lessons, and to exact -a strict performance of the duties imposed on him; she undertook to -watch over their execution, and devoted to this inspection a large -portion of her time; she also took upon herself the charge of teaching -him many things which it was desirable he should know, and in which -she was capable of giving him instruction. All this was easy, but -there was yet more to be done: knowledge is desirable and necessary, -it is even indispensable; yet it is but one portion, and that not the -most important, of education. Though Stephen's mind was not yet fully -developed, Caroline was extremely desirous to turn all his abilities -to account; but she was still more anxious that his views should be -right, his decisions just, and his character firm: she wished him to -know how to appreciate everything according to its real value, that he -might not passionately attach himself to trivial objects, and that he -should give his whole mind to whatever he had once determined on. To -attain these results, Stephen must not be indulged as she had been, -for she still often felt how naturally the habit of yielding to every -fancy leads to mistakes as to what is of real importance. This point, -however, she found it difficult to obtain from M. de Manzay. How was -he to be induced to give pain to this child, the last pledge of her -whose remembrance constituted his life; how could he resist his wishes, -impose restraints on him, treat him with severity? Perhaps by urging it -very importunately, and asking it as a personal favour, Caroline might -have gained this difficult conquest, and led her father to subdue the -feelings of his heart, and make use of one weakness to combat another; -but she did not have recourse to this dangerous method; her natural -sense of uprightness deterred her from making use of it, and taught her -that truth alone has the privilege of finally triumphing over error; -that one passion is not well vanquished by another; and that though it -be a longer, it is at all events a surer way to appeal to reason, the -sole legitimate and absolute sovereign of our moral nature. It was, -therefore, not by entreaties, but by rational persuasion, that she -succeeded in inducing her father to train Stephen for other aims than -mere present enjoyment, the amusement of the day, or the gratification -of his passing fancies. Nor let it be imagined that Stephen had any -reason to regret this change; on the contrary, his mode of life being -better regulated, afforded him more enjoyment; the necessity of working -gave value to his amusements; he found more happiness in doing what was -right, when he had experienced the effects of the reverse; and he loved -his father and sister all the better for their complaisance, when he -had felt their firmness. - -Even Denis himself found his advantage in the reform which had -taken place at Primini. When life flowed on there so tranquilly and -so happily that each seemed to have no other duties than those of -affection, no occupations but those which were required to pass time -agreeably, there was abundance of room for him, and he could abandon -himself to all the impetuosity of his character; but when misfortune -and time had changed the habits of the family--when all was according -to rule, and each hour had its employment, each person his work,--what -remained for him but to make up his mind, and be reasonable like the -others? He had no longer any one to torment, and he scarcely regretted -it, for Caroline's patience had at length wearied him of this singular -amusement; and if he was sometimes a weight upon his cousin, it was -rather from the burthen of his idleness than from any bad intention. -But he required society--idle people; when everybody was occupied he -knew not what to do with himself. He could not pass the whole of his -time in walking, in looking at the haymaking, or in angling; and when -Stephen was studying with his father, Caroline at her school, and the -servants at their work, he must either lounge about wearily by himself, -or find some employment. He resolved one day to try this last plan, -fully resolved that if, after six months' trial, he should find it too -laborious, he would resume his old mode of proceeding, and give up -books for ever. As he had much resolution and strength of character, -and would not do things by halves, he gave himself up completely to his -new project, and voluntarily, without even requiring to be reminded, -he every day devoted eight hours to work. At first he found this -insupportable, and could only console himself for the disgust which he -experienced, by counting the number of days which remained to complete -his term of trial; but by degrees his distaste vanished; he perceived -that there is a vast difference between studying at broken intervals, -like a child and from constraint, and in seeking heartily to acquire -fresh knowledge. For his special employment he had chosen mathematics, -which he had formerly begun to learn, and which would be essential if -he persisted in his design of entering the naval service; but which he -had, nevertheless, thrown aside and neglected. M. de Manzay offered -him his assistance, although convinced that his resolution would not -be of long duration, and that he would not persevere even to the term -which he had prescribed for himself. He was mistaken. Denis, far from -being discouraged, every day became more attached to his new mode of -life, and the fatal epoch passed without his having remarked it. He was -now quite decided upon the continuance of his studies; he was eighteen -years of age, and calculated upon employing one more year in preparing -himself to enter the Polytechnic School. These two years of labour -and of seclusion, the mere idea of which formerly alarmed him to such -a degree that he was ready to relinquish his desire of entering the -navy, he now scarcely dreaded at all; besides which, he felt that he -had sufficient energy to surmount any unpleasant feelings they might -occasion. Whenever he again felt any dismay at the prospect, he would -go and confide his uneasiness to Caroline, now his best friend, whom he -no more thought of teasing than she recollected having been tormented -by him; their childish quarrels were so far from their thoughts, that -they would have been astonished had they been reminded that only four -years had intervened since these puerile disputes. - -But if Caroline had forgotten the annoyance which had formerly been -given her by Denis, this was far from being the case with respect to -the contempt with which she had been treated by Robert; she could not -reconcile herself to the idea of his disdainful tone towards her, and -though her own good sense told her that her cousin's censure was justly -founded, yet she could not sufficiently conquer herself to forgive -the manner in which it was shown. Her imagination always represented -Robert, and his intercourse with her, such as she recollected them, -and she did not take into consideration, either the change in herself, -nor that which must have taken place in her cousin; all the praises -which she heard bestowed upon him redoubled her fear at the thought -of meeting him again, and it was with real dread that she awaited his -approaching return. - -Robert, on his part, came back full of prejudices against Caroline. -With all the self-sufficiency of a young man of twenty, he had -formerly seen only her defects, and he persisted in the opinion -which he had then formed of her, with an obstinacy which would have -been unpardonable, if his absence, and the little taste he had for -letter-writing, joined to a not ill-founded mistrust of Monsieur de -Manzay's opinion where his daughter was concerned, had not afforded -some excuse for the error of still seeing, in the Caroline of twenty, -the Caroline of fifteen. - -The mutual dislike existing between Robert and Caroline was the more to -be regretted as they were destined to pass their lives near each other. -Robert's estate was contiguous to that of Monsieur de Manzay, and it -was with the intention of settling there that he returned from his -travels. Decided to enter upon a completely independent career, which -should allow him the free disposal of his mode of life, he had resolved -to seek in commercial enterprises the means of employing his time and -abilities; he determined to convert his château into a manufactory, and -to add to his position as a landowner that of a merchant. His estate, -which was thickly wooded, and, traversed by a river, was exactly -suited for the establishment of an iron factory;--he promised himself -much satisfaction in setting it on foot, and superintending it, and -calculated upon being very useful to the country by such a measure. -He was not fond of the world, and regretted nothing at Paris but that -brilliant circulation of intellect which is as natural to it as its -atmosphere. No one can say whence it comes, or whither it goes; who is -the giver, or who the receiver; what will be its influence, or what -may be its limit: it is enough that it exists, that it spreads itself -around, that it seizes on all--yes, on all--even on those who deny it, -even on those who condemn it. But although Robert was more than any man -capable of appreciating, and of contributing his share to this noble -pleasure, he was not disposed to purchase it at the price of a life -of idleness, equally devoid of results as of aim. Had the state of -his country opened to him a career in which all his abilities might -be simultaneously developed, in which activity would have required no -sacrifice, but in which his individual progress would have advanced -the public good, he would have given this the preference; but this was -not possible, and Robert had too much strength of character to suppose -that he was exempted from doing that which was good, because he had -a glimpse of something better. He felt confident that a time would -come, when his wishes might be accomplished, and in the course of a -long career he looked forward to the promise of a future for himself -and for his country. But the future is in the hands of God alone, and -our obligations are attached to the present time; to squander it in -the expectation of the future, is to borrow without knowing whether we -have wherewith to pay, and to expose ourselves to the danger of being -some day bankrupt. Robert, therefore, not without some hesitation, but -without regret, fixed on the plan the best suited to his tastes and his -position, and which offered the best employment for his time, whilst -awaiting a more extended career; but he would not enter on his project -lightly, or without acquiring all the knowledge requisite for such an -enterprise. It would not satisfy him to be merely a worker on a grand -scale; even could he have made it profitable, it would have given him -no pleasure; and he was rich enough to entitle him not to consider -money as his sole object. He began, then, by passing two years at the -Polytechnic Institution, which he left with a brilliant reputation. It -was at that period that he spent a short time at Primini, before he -set out on the long tour on which he had determined, in order to see -various countries, and study their manners and institutions; to perfect -himself in living languages; and to examine the different industrial -processes invented and practised beyond the bounds of his own country, -with which it was right that he should be acquainted. - -He thus came back to Puivaux at twenty-five years of age, happy to -return to his own country, to revisit the scenes of his childhood, -and renew his family ties; and the only thing that disturbed him was, -the disagreeable recollection which he retained of Caroline. In spite -of his prejudices, she had often presented herself to his mind, and -the remembrance of her caprices could not efface that of her lovely -face, the elegance of her form, and the grace of her movements; the -sweet tones of her voice still vibrated on his ears, and often had he -repeated to himself that it was a great pity she was so insufferable, -for she might have been charming; and then--then--but it must not be -thought of, she possessed neither good sense nor good temper, and from -such a person what could be hoped for? - -It was rather late, one evening, when Robert arrived at Primini, where -he was to take up his abode till everything was in order at his own -house. He was not yet expected, but the absence of a friend, whom he -had intended to visit by the way, had shortened his journey; and he -had entered the château, and made his way to the drawing-room, before -his coming was even suspected. He was struck by the scene presented -by the persons there assembled. Monsieur de Manzay was reading aloud, -Stephen was drawing, Denis copying music, and Caroline working at her -embroidery frame. This social employment, this active tranquillity, was -the more striking from its contrast with the former habits of those -present, and its congeniality with his own tastes. He looked on without -stirring, when Caroline chanced to raise her eyes, and exclaimed, "It -is Robert!" Her voice expressed more surprise than pleasure, and, after -having risen hastily, she remained where she was without advancing -towards her cousin. He had already repeatedly embraced his uncle and -Stephen, and shaken hands with Denis, before she could recover herself -sufficiently to speak; she opened her lips and closed them again -without uttering a syllable. Robert, on his side, was ill at ease, -and it is impossible to say how long their embarrassment might have -lasted, if Monsieur de Manzay had not cried out, "Well! what are you -both doing? Are you not glad to see each other again? What are you -thinking about?" - -"Will you permit me to embrace you, Caroline?" then said Robert. - -"Permit you!" repeated Monsieur de Manzay; "are you such a simpleton as -to ask? I should like to see her refuse, indeed. For I am a terrible -despot, as you well know," he added, caressing his daughter, as he led -her towards Robert. They then embraced, but without much pleasure on -either side; and, under the pretext of giving some orders, Caroline -speedily made her escape from the room. - -"My cousin is, then, at the head of your house?" inquired Robert, when -she was gone. - -"Yes, certainly, and a capital manager she is, I can assure you." - -"I should not have supposed her to be over-gifted with order." - -"Formerly she had little enough; but she is greatly changed; you would -not recognise her, my friend." - -"She has at least retained her good looks, and she has done well, for -she is really charming." - -"Why, then, did you stand there like a post before her?" - -"We were not very good friends, formerly, and I was afraid she might -recollect it. By the way, Denis, how do you agree with Caroline?" - -"With Caroline! how is it possible to do otherwise than agree with her, -kind as she is?" - -"Yet you used to be always quarrelling." - -"Oh! that is a long time ago, when I was quite a child; but now, I -would throw myself into the river to give her pleasure." - -"Or, what would be more to the purpose, you would work for her--as I -imagine this music is destined for her?" - -"Exactly so; but, Robert, do not suppose that I am still the idle -fellow I used to be. I have been quite reformed here, and I am going to -enter the Polytechnic School." - -"How! you, who spoke of it with such horror?" - -"I tell you that I am quite reformed; for the last four years, nearly, -I have been living at Primini, and as everyone here is occupied, I -was obliged to do like the rest. In the beginning it was exceedingly -wearisome, but afterwards I took delight in the exertion, and so does -everyone. Is it not so, Stephen?" - -"How tall Stephen is grown," said Robert; "he was quite a little -fellow, when I went away." - -"You must remember that five years have passed since then, and many -events have occurred; but you will have time enough to discover this, -my friend, and for the present you must need refreshment and repose. -Stephen, go and tell your sister that she had better order supper." - -At this moment, Caroline entered the room. - -"Your apartment is quite ready, Robert," she said; "shall Stephen -conduct you to it, or would you rather take supper immediately?" - -"Just as you please, I am quite at your disposal," replied Robert, -in a ceremonious manner, corresponding, perfectly, with the extreme -politeness of Caroline. - -They were both of them ill at ease, infinitely more so than they would -have been with total strangers, when a little constraint would have -been natural. In fact, when all is real, there can be no embarrassment. -It is by a false position, and not by a difficult one, that we are -disconcerted. The remainder of the evening passed cheerlessly enough. -Caroline, who usually diffused life and gaiety over the home circle, -was constrained and silent, and took no share in the conversation; her -silence reacted upon Denis, who was accustomed to laugh and jest with -her: Robert reproached himself for the constraint and _ennui_ which he -seemed to have introduced into the house, and promised himself not to -prolong his stay, grieved as he was to find himself like a stranger, -and a troublesome stranger, in his own family. Following up his old -prejudices he laid all the blame of his vexation upon Caroline. "She -is still the same, whatever they may say," thought he to himself; -"she yields completely to the fancy of the moment. Because she is -sorry to see me--yet what harm have I ever done her?--she makes us all -uncomfortable, with her intolerable, ill-humoured airs. I perceive -nothing of that devotion to others--that self-denial, of which my uncle -spoke in his letters. However, I never believed in it, and I was right; -she is, and she always will be, a spoiled child." - -The next day affairs assumed a different aspect, but Robert was no -great gainer by the change. Caroline, who had reproached herself for -making the evening pass disagreeably to her father, determined to -overcome the awkwardness which she experienced in Robert's presence, -and, as far as outward appearances were concerned, she succeeded. She -threw off the almost gloomy silence of the preceding evening, replied -gaily to the pleasantries of Denis on the subject, and appeared, -as usual, serene and amiable; but she found it impossible to be at -her ease with Robert. She listened to him with attention, replied -with gentleness, and even addressed her conversation to him when the -opportunity occurred; but it was evident that she did so with effort, -and that she laboured under insufferable constraint with him. Robert -perceived this clearly, and every day added to his vexation; this -negative distinction wounded and annoyed him, and he had to encounter -it perpetually. If Caroline wanted a strong hand to stretch her -embroidery frame, it was to Denis that she applied; if she wished to -gather a flower that was beyond her reach, she would call Denis to her -assistance, even if Robert were close beside her. At table, she might -sometimes forget to help Denis, or attend to Stephen before him, whilst -her scrupulous politeness towards Robert marked the distance between -them. Treated thus as a stranger, and more wounded by Caroline's polite -attention than even by her coldness, Robert found little pleasure at -Primini, and was dissatisfied with his cousin. He felt that their near -relationship gave him a right to more familiar intercourse, whilst -he forgot that he did nothing to promote it; greatly piqued, and -more grieved than he was aware of, to find himself on such bad terms -with Caroline, he took the very way to increase the distance between -them; he was reserved and ceremonious in his conduct towards her, yet -captious, and even ironical. Never did a word of friendly regard drop -from his lips, but he would often complain; and, too proud to own his -vexation, he veiled it under so much bitterness, that he was completely -misunderstood by Caroline, whose heart, accustomed to the full light of -truth, never suspected simulation, or detected what was feigned. - -As Robert's stay at Primini was prolonged, he was day after day the -more grieved at the state of his relations with Caroline; seeing her -as he did continually, he could not but acknowledge that she possessed -excellent qualities, great amiability and simplicity of character, and -that she had wonderfully improved since they parted. Although he was -still far from being acquainted with all her worth, he began to think -that it would be very delightful to gain her friendship and possess -her confidence, and also to doubt whether he had ever deserved either -the one or the other. The remembrance of his former wrongs towards her -presented itself to his mind; he recollected how disagreeable had been -his manners, how severe his condemnation; he was no longer surprised at -the coldness of Caroline, and asked himself whether, since his arrival, -he had taken the proper measures to overcome it. His conscience told -him that he had not; his regret augmented, and soon assumed the form -of self-reproach. He accused himself as the sole cause of all this -vexation, and anxiously sought the means of putting an end to the -constraint which was so painful to both, so distressing to himself. One -morning, as he was pondering over the subject whilst taking a walk, -he heard bursts of laughter, and, approaching, saw Caroline and Denis -engaged in watering the flowers, and chatting in the most animated -manner. He joined them, wished them good morning; Caroline resumed her -gravity; Denis recollected that it was the hour to begin his studies, -and left them. Robert and Caroline remained for some moments without -speaking. At last, making an effort, he said, "I have disturbed you, -Caroline; I am sorry for it." - -"Why should you think you disturb me, Robert? I can go on watering my -flowers whilst you are here." - -"Yes; but you are not laughing as you were just now." - -"I have no longer any inclination to do so." - -"That is the very thing of which I complain; I always interrupt your -merriment, my dear Caroline; cannot you laugh and chat with me as you -do with Denis?" - -"With you, Robert? Oh, that would be very difficult." - -"And why? Am I not also your cousin?" - -"I do not know you so well as Denis." - -"But yesterday, when the curé introduced his nephew, to whom you were -a stranger, you conversed a great deal with him, and appeared to be -amused." - -"I am not afraid of M. Julius." - -"Are you, then, afraid of me?" - -"Yes, certainly: you are so extremely severe." - -"Have I found fault with you once since my return?" - -"No; but you do not blame me the less in your own thoughts." - -"Nay, I assure you I think of you very favourably. Besides, my dear -Caroline, allowing that we are not always of the same opinion, and -that--pardon my frankness--some of the disadvantages which I formerly -remarked may yet remain from your too indulgent education--you possess -so many good qualities, that these slight defects may be easily -overlooked. I, also, have had my faults, and especially towards you; -but, because we are neither of us perfect, need we be other than good -friends? Forget the past, I entreat you, and give me some portion of -your regard." - -"With all my heart, Robert," cried Caroline, holding out her hand -to her cousin, who kissed it affectionately. "Believe me, I was far -from supposing that you set any value on my affection. I thought you -despised me." And the tears stood in her eyes. "Let us say no more -about it," she continued, more calmly, "it makes me too unhappy." - -"How good and amiable you are, my dear Caroline; I have been very -unjust." - -"I shall think of it no more. I was so unreasonable five years ago, -that I quite understand your thinking me very ridiculous." - -"Yes; but how harsh I was! Oh, I repent it with all my soul! Pardon me, -I entreat you." - -"Pardon you! my dear Robert, what a grand word! Must I, in my turn, -remind you that you are my cousin, and, above all, my senior; and that -I could not allow myself to talk of pardon to you? Come, let us return -to the house; my father will be delighted to see us on such good terms; -for our coldness annoys him, and he scolds me every day--in his way of -scolding, however--for not making myself more agreeable to you." She -took Robert's offered arm, and they went back to the house chatting -familiarly. - -This first step once made, a complete change took place in the -nature of the relations between Caroline and Robert. They were both -so simple-minded, so truthful, so upright, that as soon as what -may be called the exterior obstacles which had separated them were -removed, the most perfect confidence was established between them. -There were, besides, so many reasons to bring them together; all their -affections were directed to the same objects: Robert had no relatives -that were not also those of Caroline; their interests were alike; -near neighbours, their exertions were employed for the welfare of the -same persons: the workmen of Robert were the sons, the brothers, the -husbands of Caroline's _protégées_; their opinions agreed, their tastes -were congenial; in a word, everything combined to attract them to each -other, and they could not become intimately acquainted without finding -how exactly they suited each other's tastes. Caroline was never tired -of listening to the accounts which her cousin gave of his travels, or -to the development of his ideas, his projects, and his hopes, of which -he perpetually conversed with her. It was with intense delight that he -contemplated the vivid impressions of so fresh a mind, so youthful a -heart; he was surprised by her good sense, enchanted by her gentleness, -and was particularly charmed with the seriousness and sincerity which -induced her to maintain her own opinion with firmness till the moment -that she was convinced of an error, when she would at once abandon it, -without any subterfuge or embarrassment. - -The winter arrived, and passed away in this pleasing intercourse. Its -long days afforded Robert the greater opportunity for attaching himself -to Caroline, and gaining her affections. With the return of spring -he was to quit Primini, and establish himself at Puivaux. Scarcely -six months ago, he had impatiently longed for this period; a little -later, he felt that he looked forward to it without eagerness; and now -that the time approached, he could not contemplate it without dread. -However, by frequently grieving over the matter, and thinking how -dreary life would appear to him without Caroline, he at last arrived -at the conclusion, that he might render it happy through her means, and -that his cousin might perhaps consent to become his wife: she already -showed so much regard and esteem for him, and placed in him so much -confidence; might she not bestow on him still more? Why should not -Caroline return his love? - -His addresses were not destined to encounter any obstacles; he had -never been indifferent to Caroline, and had now become extremely dear -to her: the certainty of living in his vicinity had already appeared to -her a happy destiny; what, then, would it be to live for him, to form -his happiness, and receive from him her own; to be the first object -of his thoughts and pursuits; to find such admirable qualities and -such noble faculties devoted entirely to her; in a word, to become the -wife of a man whom she was proud to call her friend, and congratulated -herself on having for a relative? - -It may easily be imagined that M. de Manzay was not slow in granting -his consent. He had often dwelt with pleasure on the idea of this -union, and had never abandoned the hope of seeing it take place. -The marriage was celebrated at Montfort by the curé, who had once -thought so ill of Caroline. She was accompanied to the altar by four -young couples, M. de Manzay giving the dowry to the girls selected by -Caroline from amongst her former pupils, whilst Robert supplied the -funds for their establishment. The bridegrooms were workmen employed at -his ironworks, and were to live at Puivaux, whither Robert conducted -Caroline the day after the wedding. Her father followed her thither. -It was impossible for him to live without her, and he would not detain -her from her husband's affairs; but Primini was not neglected. This -place, which was destined for Stephen, was on all accounts much loved -by Caroline; she therefore watched over it with the greatest care, and -thither her walks were habitually directed. The two châteaux belonged -to the same commune, and were situated in the same parish: their -interests were identical, and the good which was undertaken by Monsieur -and Madame de Puivaux was only the continuation of that which had been -effected by Monsieur and Mademoiselle de Manzay. - - - Reed & Pardon, Printers, Paternoster-row, London. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[1] The Italian Marionettes are made with a degree of perfection -unequalled in this country.--NOTE by the Author. - -[2] These dip-cups, or _pinceliers_, are little boxes of tin used -for cleaning the brushes. The colour-venders repurchase the residue -of these boxes, and the colour thus obtained is employed in the -manufacture of printed goods. - -[3] Grimaud signifies a sulky person. - -[4] Pasticcio signifies an imitation of the mixed style of various -artists. - -[5] Derisive epithets employed to designate one who does not follow -the method and taste of the existing school of art, or who adopts a -finicing style of painting. - -[6] Slang terms, indicative of a soft and finicing style of painting. - -[7] Croûtes aux épinards, signifying daubs. - -[8] Pickled meat, fried. - -[9] That is to say, a caricature. - -[10] The last entered or the least skilful in the studio. - - - - - NEW ILLUSTRATED WORKS, - - In Elegant Cloth Bindings, - - PUBLISHED BY - GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON ST., - LONDON. - - Price 3_s._ 6_d._ each, - - -DAWNINGS OF GENIUS (The) Exemplified and Exhibited in the Early Lives -of Distinguished Men. By Rev. T. A. BUCKLEY, M.A., F.S.A. With Eight -Illustrations by Godwin. - -Amongst many other Distinguished Persons are Petrarch, Sir Thomas -More, Pascal, Sir Francis Bacon, Newton, Galileo, Hogarth, Sir Thomas -Lawrence, Chatterton, Sir Walter Scott, Franklin, Washington, &c. &c. -From the above list, comprising as it does notices of Poets, Statesmen, -Divines, Philosophers, Astronomers, and Painters, it will be at once -apparent the work forms an admirable _School Prize_ or _Gift Book_. - - -INFLUENCE; or, The Evil Genius. By the Author of "A Trap to Catch a -Sunbeam," &c. With Eight Illustrations, from designs by John Gilbert. - - -CELEBRATED CHILDREN of all Ages and Nations. By M. MASSON. With -Illustrations, from designs by Absolon. - - ROYAL CHILDREN. - MARTYR CHILDREN. - COURAGEOUS CHILDREN. - LEARNED CHILDREN. - CHILDREN CELEBRATED FOR THEIR FILIAL AFFECTION. - LABORIOUS CHILDREN. - POET AND ARTIST CHILDREN. - -This volume is one which cannot fail to interest and benefit the young; -for in offering to their consideration, in a very attractive form, the -remarkable actions of persons of their own age, it not only ensures a -ready sympathy, but is also eminently calculated to excite emulation -and encourage perseverance. - - -THE ISLAND HOME; being the Adventures of Six Young Crusoes cast on a -Desolate Island. With Illustrations. - - - In One Stout Volume, price 3_s._ 6_d._, - -BOYS AT HOME; or, The Loss of Fortune Counterbalanced by Good Conduct -and Industry. By C. ADAMS, Author of "Edgar Clifton." 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By Miss ANN BOWMAN. - - -VOYAGE AND VENTURE; or, Narratives of Perils by Sea and Land. -Illustrated with Eight Engravings. - -A volume of excitement for the fireside: in it are narrations of -perilous incidents in naval life--by famine, fire, and wreck, as well -as in the busy stir of war; the calm decision of Nelson at the Nile; -the career of the soldier in tented field and siege; an instance -of the firm and steady purpose of Wellington at Vittoria, as well -as his kindly care for others, by an eye-witness. Here, also, are -the adventures of hardy hunters in the Indian wilds, and their many -hair-breadth escapes when in pursuit of savage animals, or their -greater peril, the wild Indian. - - -ROBINSON CRUSOE; including His Farther Adventures. Complete Edition, -with Life of DE FOE. Illustrated by Phiz. 432 pages. - - -SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON; or, Adventures on a Desert Island. A New -Edition. The Two Series complete in One Volume, entirely Revised and -Improved. Eight Illustrations by John Gilbert. - -The purport of this pleasing story is to convey instruction in the -Arts and Natural History, and at the same time to inculcate by example -principles which tend to the promotion of social happiness. It well -deserves the high encomium passed on it by one of the most competent -judges, that it is one of the best children's books ever written. - - -EVENINGS AT HOME; or, The Juvenile Budget Opened. By L. AIKIN and Mrs. -BARBAULD; a New and Revised Edition, with Eight Engravings. - -"This is one of the best books for young people from seven to ten -years old that has yet appeared in the world; and the mixture of -scientific and moral lessons is so happily blended as to relieve the -attention."--_Miss Edgeworth._ - - -SANDFORD AND MERTON. By Thomas Day. A New Edition, entirely Revised and -Corrected. Eight Illustrations. 416 pages. - -This well-known and popular work has been read by many a boy with -delight and instruction, and will continue to communicate equal delight -to those that are to follow. - - - -Transcriber's note: - - Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully - as possible, including some inconsistencies of hyphenation. - - Oe-ligatures have been expanded to "oe." - - The following is a list of changes made to the original. - The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one. - - into one of Martin's paniers, where, covered - into one of Martin's panniers, where, covered - - had just flattered himself, "Give it to me with the - had just flattered himself, "give it to me with the - - the sound of his horses' feet growing fainter and - the sound of his horse's feet growing fainter and - - "lest we lose our way," Cecilia did not dare to say - "lest we lose our way." Cecilia did not dare to say - - First of all, she said, I will teach her to work well - "First of all," she said, "I will teach her to work well - - B, then C; and at last, all the letters of the aphabet. - B, then C; and at last, all the letters of the alphabet. - - Thus, all the success obtained that that day was, - Thus, all the success obtained that day was, - - his mind still perplexed with the came doubt, - his mind still perplexed with the same doubt, - - "Oh! my father," demanded Nadir, how, amidst - "Oh! my father," demanded Nadir, "how, amidst - - I should not say, "To what purpose have I paid my debts? - I should not say, "To what purpose have I paid my debts?" - - to find it, for it is in my shoe, under my stocking. - to find it, for it is in my shoe, under my stocking." - - "there is master Louis himself, who will tell you that it is - "there is Master Louis himself, who will tell you that it is - - if they find all the house out of sorts in this mannner----" - if they find all the house out of sorts in this manner----" - - disturb every body, and require to be pitied,--not that - disturb everybody, and require to be pitied,--not that - - could not wait on Amelia as attentively as on other occasions, - could not wait on Adela as attentively as on other occasions, - - she made it a rule to work, as she had had said, an hour longer - she made it a rule to work, as she had said, an hour longer - - My father's, as well as my own name, is Valentin lâ Grimâudière. - My father's, as well as my own name, is Valentin lâ Grimâudière." - - the inexperience which he very justly atttributed to him. - the inexperience which he very justly attributed to him. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POPULAR TALES*** - - -******* This file should be named 42839-8.txt or 42839-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/8/3/42839 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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