know that Geneviève never does half she is told to do."
"If you have no other means of obtaining her obedience than those you
have just employed, I am sorry for it; I must take her away from you,
for I pay her to wait upon you, and not to be ill treated; I have
never paid any one for that purpose."
Madame d'Altier said these words in so firm a tone, that her daughter
did not dare to reply. However, she consoled herself in talking to
her cousin, who came to spend an hour with her, and they both agreed
that Madame d'Altier did not know how to manage her servants. This
was an unlucky day for Emmeline; the conversation with her cousin
had taken place in one of the garden-walks, and just as she had
terminated it, she saw her mother coming from a neighbouring one.
Madame d'Altier smiled at the prattle of these little personages, who
presumed to set themselves up as judges of her conduct. She looked
at her daughter, who blushed excessively, and seeing Geneviève,
she called to her to remove some branches, which were in her way.
Geneviève replied, that she would come as soon as she had carried
some food to the turkeys, which were screeching like mad things,
because they were hungry. "In truth," said Madame d'Altier, "it is
evident, as you very justly observed, that I do not know how to get
served before my turkeys; I suppose, therefore, I must be thought
more reasonable and less impatient than they are." But at this
moment they beheld Geneviève, who putting, or rather throwing, on
the ground the vessel she held in her hand, began to run with the
utmost precipitation towards the house. "Gracious me!" she cried, as
she ran along, "I have forgotten to close the window in Mademoiselle
Emmeline's room, as she ordered me. I must make haste," she repeated,
quite out of breath. "I congratulate you, my child," said Madame
d'Altier, "I see that you have more talent than my turkeys even, in
getting waited upon."
Emmeline said nothing, but she glanced at her cousin as she was
accustomed to do, whenever anything was said which displeased her.
Madame de Serres, who considered herself interrupted in her important
conferences with her cousin, and who was afraid to display all
her fine ideas in the presence of her aunt, of whose good sense
and raillery she stood in awe, returned to her carriage, for the
purpose of paying a visit in the neighbourhood, accompanied by her
lady's-maid, who always attended her in her drives, because she was
still too young to go alone. She promised to come back to dinner, and
Emmeline went to attend her flowers.
"Oh, dear," she exclaimed, as she reached the terrace, where the
pots were arranged, which served for the decoration of her room,
"last night's rain has scattered the blossoms of all my roses, and my
jasmine has not a single flower left upon it. Geneviève might have
taken them in last night, but she can do nothing. She never thinks of
anything."
"But, mademoiselle," said old Geneviève, who happened to be close at
hand, "I dare not touch your flowerpots, for fear of breaking them."
"Did you take in mine?" said Madame d'Altier.
"Oh! yes, madame."
"I am very glad to find," said Madame d'Altier, looking at her
daughter, "that I can be attended to without compelling attention."
"But, mamma, I never told her not to touch my flowerpots," replied
Emmeline.
"No; but probably for the smallest thing she breaks, you scold her so
much, that she is afraid to run the risk of again exposing herself to
your anger."
"It is absolutely necessary, mamma," she said, as she ascended the
steps to take in her flowers, "Geneviève is so awkward, and pays so
little attention, that...." As she uttered these words, one of the
flowerpots slipped from her hands, fell on the steps, and was broken
into a thousand pieces.
"She is so awkward," rejoined Madame d'Altier, "that precisely the
same thing happens to her sometimes, that would happen to you as
well, had you the same duties to perform."
"Indeed, mamma," said Emmeline, very much irritated, "what has
happened to me is quite disagreeable enough without...."
"Without what, my child?"
Emmeline paused, ashamed of her impatience. Madame d'Altier took her
hand, and made her sit down by her. "When your ill-humour is over,
my child, we will reason together." Emmeline kissed in silence the
hand of her mother, who said, "Is it then so very vexatious a matter,
my child, to have broken this pot of coloured earth, which can be
immediately replaced by one from the greenhouse, where you know you
can choose for yourself?"
"No, mamma, but...."
"It cannot be on account of your anemone, which is past flowering,
and which you told me you would return to the beds. You are spared
the trouble of unpotting it." Emmeline smiled.
"Yes, mamma, but on these occasions one always feels something
disagreeable, which makes one dislike...."
"To be tormented; is it not so, my dear? And yet it is precisely
these moments you select to scold and ill-treat Geneviève, when any
accident of this kind happens to her, as if to add to her vexation
and confusion."
"But, mamma, it is her duty to pay attention to what she is doing."
"Is it more her duty than it is yours, when you are attending to your
own business? Do you wish her to be more careful of your interest
than you can be yourself, and require that her anxiety to serve you
should make her escape accidents, which you cannot avoid, for your
own sake?"
"But, nevertheless, what I break is my own, and I am quite
sufficiently punished, whereas she...."
"Cannot be sufficiently punished, I perceive, for having caused you
a momentary vexation; and not only is this your own opinion, but you
want it to be hers likewise, for you would consider it very improper
if she wished to prove to you that you were wrong."
"Undoubtedly, mamma, it would be very absurd if Geneviève took it
into her head to argue with me, when I told her to do anything."
"I understand. When you are out of humour, Geneviève ought to say to
herself, 'I am a servant, it is consequently my duty to be rational
and patient, for the sake of Mademoiselle Emmeline, who is incapable
of being so. If my age, my infirmities, or, in fine, any weakness
of my nature, render my duties at certain time more difficult to
perform, I ought resolutely to surmount every obstacle, for fear
of causing Mademoiselle Emmeline a moment's disappointment or
contradiction, as she would not have sufficient strength of mind to
endure it. If her impatience wounds my feelings, if her ill-temper
provokes me, if her fancies appear to me ridiculous and unbearable,
still I ought to submit to them, as she is a poor little creature,
from whom one cannot expect anything better.'"
"Geneviève would show very little attachment," replied Emmeline,
greatly piqued, "if she could entertain such thoughts as these."
At this moment Madame de Serres arrived, very much agitated and
angry. "Just imagine, my dear aunt," she said to Madame d'Altier,
as she approached, "my maid is going to leave me. She selected the
time when she was in the carriage with me, to announce her intention;
therefore I had her set down in the road, and she may get back as she
pleases. Will you have the kindness to allow your maid to accompany
me home? I had this person in my service long before my marriage, and
she leaves me for a situation which she says suits her better. Who
can rely on the attachment of such people?"
"Were you very much attached to her?" asked Madame d'Altier,
carelessly.
"Oh! not at all; she is slow and disagreeable. I should have taken
another could I have found one."
Madame d'Altier laughed. It seemed to her excessively absurd that it
should be a perpetual subject of complaint and astonishment, that a
servant is not more attached to the master whom he has served many
years, while the master considers it quite a matter of course to care
nothing about the servant, by whom he has been served during all this
time. Madame de Serres did not perceive that her aunt was laughing at
her, but Emmeline observed it, and it sometimes happened that even
she thought her cousin rather ridiculous. Madame de Serres consoled
herself by jesting about the pleasure she should have in being
under the protection of Mademoiselle Brogniard, Madame d'Altier's
lady's-maid, who took her pinch of snuff with such gravity, and when
in the open fields, walked as uprightly, and made her courtesy as
regularly as if she had been in a drawing-room, in the midst of fifty
people. It was agreed, as the weather was fine, and the distance but
trifling across the fields, that Madame de Serres should walk, and
that Emmeline should accompany her with Mademoiselle Brogniard, and
also that they should call and take some milk at a farm, which lay
almost on their road. They set off soon after dinner; but scarcely
had they reached the farm, when the weather, which up to that time
had been fine, suddenly changed, and the rain began to fall in
torrents. When, after the lapse of an hour, it had ceased, and
they resolved to continue their way, the country was so completely
inundated, that they sank ankle-deep into the mud. Madame de Serres
was in great distress because she had not returned home in her
carriage. Emmeline, rather shocked at observing that she thought of
no one but herself, exclaimed, as she perceived Geneviève coming
towards her with a parcel,
"Well! as for me, here's Geneviève bringing my cloak and boots."
"No," replied Geneviève, "but I have brought Mademoiselle Brogniard's
fur shoes, and wadded dress, for I thought that with her rheumatism
the damp might do her a great deal of harm."
"You might at least, at the same time," said Emmeline, angrily, "have
brought my boots."
"But you did not tell me to do so, Mademoiselle."
"Neither did Mademoiselle Brogniard tell you to bring hers."
"But she knew, Mademoiselle Emmeline," replied Mademoiselle
Brogniard, sententiously emphasising every word, "that I should be
greatly obliged to her; and indeed, Geneviève, I am extremely obliged
to you."
"I have only done my duty," said Geneviève, as she assisted
Mademoiselle Brogniard to put on her dress. She then went away,
leaving Emmeline extremely annoyed at finding that Geneviève
considered herself bound to be more attentive to Mademoiselle
Brogniard than to her. Madame de Serres tried to jest on account of
Mademoiselle Brogniard being the best clad and the best served of
the three; but as the latter said very little, her pleasantry soon
terminated, and her lamentations about the carriage recommenced.
At last, as they drew near the high road, she perceived it slowly
returning, and in a transport of delight ran forward towards it.
"Mademoiselle Brogniard," she said, "I shall soon be at the château;
it will be unnecessary for you to accompany me any further: farewell,
my dear," she cried out to Emmeline, "I am delighted to spare you the
rest of the way," and she departed, without once thinking that she
could have saved Emmeline a walk in the mud, by taking her back in
her carriage, at least as far as the avenue of her mother's château.
Emmeline reflected upon this, and saw clearly that her cousin's plan
of not troubling herself about the comfort of those who were in her
service, formed part of a much more extensive plan, which was that of
not troubling herself about any one.
These reflections, and the representations of her mother, had the
effect of sparing Geneviève some haughty airs, and some caprices;
but Emmeline could not treat her with kindness. Her orders were
always delivered in a brief and dry manner, and she was constantly
giving orders. She took no pains to discover whether what she ordered
could be easily or more conveniently done at one time, or in one
manner than another, neither did she take any interest in anything
that concerned Geneviève, for Emmeline imagined that this kind of
familiarity would have made her appear childish.
Towards the end of the summer, Madame d'Altier and her daughter
went with Madame de Serres to spend some days at a château in the
neighbourhood. Madame de Ligneville, the mistress of the château,
was a young woman twenty-two years of age, extremely gentle and
amiable, and especially remarkable for her kindness to her servants,
the greater part of whom had surrounded her from her childhood. Her
housekeeper had been her former governess, and Madame de Ligneville
was not afraid of allowing authority in her household to one who had
formerly possessed it over her own person; for in proportion as she
became reasonable, her governess became as submissive as she had
formerly been rigorous in exacting obedience. Her lady's-maid was the
daughter of this governess, and had been brought up with her, but she
was not on this account the less zealous or respectful. Her footman
had belonged to her father, her gardener was in the family before her
birth, and sometimes related to her how, when a child, she used to
plant bits of apricot, in order that they might become apricot-trees.
Every one adored her; everything in her household seemed regulated
by an invisible machinery, and without anything being ever said; an
order appeared like an advertisement to which every one hastened to
attend. It was a matter of doubt whether Madame de Ligneville had
ever scolded her servants, and they themselves did not believe that
she had; for if at any time she was obliged to reprove them, they
were more conscious of their own fault than of the reprimand of
their mistress. Emmeline saw with astonishment that this kindness on
her part did not in the least detract either from her elegance or
her dignity. It even seemed, that without ever commanding, she had
much more the appearance of being mistress than Madame de Serres,
who could only obtain obedience by dint of talking, tormenting, and
scolding. She also observed, that although people were sometimes
amused by the little haughty airs and caprices of her cousin, Madame
de Ligneville was treated with much more respect and friendship.
They had been staying with her for some days, when all the company
of the château were invited to a fête, which was to be held at a few
leagues' distance. Madame de Serres and Madame de Ligneville took
a fancy to go there in the costume of a peasant of the province.
Emmeline had a dress of this kind, which was immediately sent for to
serve as a pattern for the others; but on examining it, Madame de
Ligneville found it rather complicated, and was afraid her maid would
not have time to complete it for the following day, as they were to
set out early.
"Oh! my maid must find time to finish mine," said Madame de Serres.
"I do not put up with her fancies in this way. You spoil your
servants, my dear," she said, addressing Madame de Ligneville. "I
know it through Justine, who I believe is cousin to your Sophie;
but I warned her that she need not expect to be treated in the same
manner; for, believe me, you will get nothing from them in this way."
Madame de Ligneville did not reply, for she was not at all anxious
to enforce her opinions on others. Madame de Serres hastened to give
her orders, and Justine immediately set to work. At night, when her
mistress retired to her room, the costume was considerably advanced,
but it did not suit her fancy. She became angry; said she would
never wear such a frightful thing as that, and ordered her to begin
it all over again. Justine replied that it would be impossible to
finish it in that case, unless she sat up all night. Madame de Serres
told her that she must do so, adding that it was no great hardship.
Justine asserted that she could not, as she was very much fatigued
already from having worked the whole of the evening. Her mistress
told her that she was an impertinent creature, and that she must
either contrive to bring her the dress by the time she awoke on the
following morning, or never again appear in her presence.
On awaking the following morning, she found her dress in precisely
the same condition as she had left it the previous night. Justine
told her, that as it seemed to be her intention to discharge her,
she had come to ask for her dismissal. Madame de Serres flew into a
passion; ordered her to leave the room; desired her never to come
into her presence again, and sent to ask Mademoiselle Brogniard to
assist her in dressing; in fine, she made so much noise about what
she termed Justine's insolence, and was altogether so unreasonable,
that the whole house soon became aware of what had occurred, and all
were greatly amused by it, for they had already heard of several
similar incidents which had happened to her. At breakfast, she
affected a manner more than usually easy, to conceal the ill-humour
which was nevertheless perceptible through it. She made no allusion
to her dress, neither did Madame de Ligneville, as she had resolved
not to put on her own, should it even be completed; while Emmeline,
very sad because her mother, in order not to annoy her cousin, would
not allow her to wear hers, although it was very becoming to her,
began to think that Madame de Serres had acted very improperly in her
treatment of Justine.
After breakfast, all were preparing to go and dress, when their
attention was drawn to Madame de Ligneville's room, in order to see
a singular flower, which her gardener had brought her. While there,
Sophie entered by one of the inner doors of the apartment, holding
in her hand Madame de Ligneville's dress, completely finished, and
the prettiest thing imaginable: every one looked at it, and all felt
tempted to glance at Madame de Serres, who, although she blushed, yet
hastened to express her approbation.
"Indeed, Sophie," said Madame de Ligneville, very much embarrassed,
"I had given it up altogether, for I never could have thought you
would have been able to finish it."
"Oh, madame," said Sophie, heedlessly, "my cousin helped me, and we
got up very early."
This cousin was Justine. Madame de Serres blushed still more,
and Madame de Ligneville did the same; but every one else felt
disposed to laugh. Emmeline perceived this, and from that moment
her cousin appeared to her as ridiculous as she was in reality. All
insisted that Madame de Ligneville should wear her dress; Emmeline,
consequently, wore hers also; and as Madame de Ligneville pretended
to be her elder sister, they passed the day together. This was
very gratifying to Madame d'Altier, as Madame de Ligneville was an
extremely sensible woman, and Emmeline found her so kind and so
charming, that she became very much attached to her. Two or three
times Madame de Ligneville remarked, as she looked at her dress,
"There really is a great deal of work in it; that poor Sophie must
have laboured very hard." And Emmeline, because she was pleased with
her, considered as very charming what a short time previously she
would have regarded as beneath her dignity; and she also felt that
it might be very gratifying to receive such proofs of affection.
She enjoyed the fête very much. However, the heat of the weather,
and the fatigue she had undergone, brought on, after her return, a
slight illness, which confined her for some time to her bed. One
day during her indisposition, she heard Geneviève, who had paid
great attention to her, say, "I must take care of her, poor little
thing, though I am quite sure that when she gets well she will vex
me very much." She felt humiliated at finding herself in need of
Geneviève's generosity. During her convalescence, she also frequently
required her assistance, for she was very weak, and Geneviève had to
aid her in almost every movement. She was therefore obliged to lay
aside some portion of her pride, and learn that the authority and
dignity of one who can do nothing for herself is, after all, no very
great affair. She felt that, if servants have need of masters for
their support, masters, whom custom and wealth have habituated to a
multitude of luxuries, have also constant need of servants, for their
comfort and convenience. She likewise learned, in the end, that an
industrious and honest servant can always find a master willing to
pay him, whereas a master who is willing to pay, is not always sure
of meeting with a servant who will serve him with zeal and affection,
and consequently that it is particularly important to masters that
their servants should be contented. She thus returned to her natural
disposition, which was that of wishing to have every one satisfied
with her, and she found that there was no other state of mind either
so agreeable or so convenient as this.
JULIA;
OR THE STORY OF MADAME CROQUE-MITAINE.
Two years had elapsed since Madame de Vallonay had placed her
daughter at school, in order to go and nurse her husband, who was
ill at a fortified town, in which he commanded, and which was at
any moment liable to attack. Circumstances having changed, M. and
Madame de Vallonay returned to Paris, and brought their daughter
home again. Julia was thirteen, she was sufficiently intelligent and
sufficiently advanced for her age; but a child of thirteen, however
advanced, cannot possibly understand all that is said by persons
older than herself. She had, however, acquired a habit of regarding
everything that she did not understand as ridiculous. Accustomed
to the chit-chat of school-girls, who among themselves discussed,
criticised, and decided upon everything, she fancied she understood
a thing when once it had formed the subject of conversation at
school. Thus, if any circumstance was spoken of, Julia maintained
that the fact had happened differently; she was quite sure of it, for
Mademoiselle Josephine had heard so in the holidays. If told that
such or such a style of dress was in bad taste, "Oh, but it must be
fashionable, nevertheless, for three of our young ladies have adopted
it for ball dresses this winter." It was the same on more serious
matters: whatever one of the elder girls related, from having heard
her parents mention it, whether about peace or war, or the theatre,
to which she had never been, it became a general opinion, to which
neither Julia nor her companions ever thought there could be anything
to oppose.
Thus, there never was a visit paid to her parents, that Julia did not
exclaim, the moment the persons were gone, "Oh! mamma, what an absurd
thing Monsieur or Madame So-and-so said!" Her mother permitted her
to express her opinion in this manner when she was alone with her,
in order to have an opportunity of proving to her, either that she
did not understand what had been said, or that she did not understand
what she wanted to say herself; but when there was company, she
carefully watched, that her daughter did not give way to any
rudeness, such as whispering, while laughing or looking at some one,
making signs to a person at the other end of the room, or seeming to
be unable to restrain her laughter.