submissive he had irritated his wife, she never failed to say: “Do
whatever you please and let me alone.” Thereupon Nicole’s husband would
go off to the wine-shop and pass the day there. Nicole would look in
vain for him in the pasture and the garden, and at night, when he came
home to supper she would ask:
“Where on earth have you been working? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
And Jacquinot would reply in a cajoling tone:
“Faith, you wouldn’t tell me what work to begin on, and I was afraid of
doing something wrong; I didn’t want to do anything without your
orders.”
With a man of Frimousset’s stamp, comfort, when it exists, soon gives
place to straitened circumstances, and then to poverty; among the small
as among the great, there is no fortune which is large enough to
withstand disorder. After five years of married life, Nicole was obliged
to sell her field and her pasture, all because Monsieur Jacquinot never
knew where to begin when it was a question of working.
Meanwhile Nicole had seen her family increased by three small boys,
healthy boys with excellent appetites. Three children more and several
pieces of land less could not bring comfort to Frimousset’s home. Then
it was that Nicole conceived the idea of becoming a nurse; and as the
peasant was as active and determined as her husband was lazy and
shiftless, her plan was soon carried out.
And that was why Jasmin, when he went to Rue Sainte-Apolline, to the
Nurses’ Bureau, had found the peasant from Gagny, whom he had selected
because of her pleasant face, and whom he had carried in triumph to his
master, the Marquis de Grandvilain.
Nicole was an excellent woman, and she became sincerely attached to the
child that was placed in her charge; she took him as soon as he cried,
and was never weary of giving him the breast and of dancing him in her
arms; she took care too that he should always be neat and clean. But the
peasant woman was a mother too; she had three _gas_--that is what she
called them,--and despite all her affection for her nursling, it was to
her _gas_ that Nicole gave the sweetmeats, the preserves, the biscuit
and the gingerbread of which Madame la Marquise de Grandvilain had not
failed to give her an abundant supply, urging her not to spare them,
never to deny Chérubin anything, and to send to her for other delicacies
when those should be exhausted.
Luckily for Chérubin, Nicole did not follow to the letter the
instructions that were given her. As one is a mother before being a
nurse, the peasant woman necessarily had more affection for her children
than for her foster-child. She gave milk to the latter, while the others
stuffed themselves with dainties, candy and gingerbread, which soon
upset their health, whereas, on the contrary, little Grandvilain became
fresh and rosy and plump and hearty.
The coming of the nursling placed the Frimousset household upon its feet
once more. Nicole had asked for thirty francs a month, but the marquis
had said to her:
“Just let my son get well, let him recover his health, and I will give
you twice that!”
And Jacquinot, who had more time than ever to idle away and to spend in
the wine-shop, because his wife, being occupied with her nursling, could
not keep an eye upon him, exclaimed every day:
“My eye, Nicole, that was a mighty good idea of yours to be a nurse! If
you only had three or four little brats like this, we should be mighty
well off, I tell you!”
And Chérubin’s little foster-brothers, who did nothing but eat
sweetmeats and gingerbread, were also delighted that their mother had a
nursling who provided them with so many good things, thanks to which
they were constantly ill.
Chérubin had been at his nurse’s house only six weeks, when, on a fine
day in autumn, a fashionable carriage stopped on the public square of
Gagny, which square is not absolutely beautiful, although the guardhouse
has been built there.
A vehicle which does not resemble a cart is always an object of
wonderment in a village. Five or six women, several old men, several
peasants, and a multitude of children assembled about the carriage, and
were gazing at it with curiosity, when a window was lowered and a man’s
head appeared.
Instantly a low murmur and a sneering laugh or two were heard among the
bystanders, together with such remarks as these, not all of which were
uttered in undertones:
“Oh! how ugly he is!”--”Oh! what a face!”--”Is it legal to be as ugly as
that, when you have a carriage?”--”Upon my word! I’d rather go
afoot!”--”That fellow hasn’t been vaccinated!”
There were other reflections of the same sort, which might have reached
the ears of him who suggested them, and which it would have been more
polite to make in a low tone; but politeness is not the favorite virtue
of the peasants of the suburbs of Paris.
Luckily, the man who had put his head out of the window was a little
hard of hearing, and, besides, he was not a man to lose his temper for
such trifles; on the contrary, assuming a smiling expression, he said,
bowing to the assemblage:
“Which of you, my good people, can direct me to Nicole Frimousset’s
house? I know well enough that it’s on a street leading into the square,
but that is all I know.”
“Nicole Frimousset!” said a peasant about half seas over, who had just
come from one wine-shop and was about to enter another; “she’s my wife,
Nicole is; I am Jacquinot Frimousset, her husband; what do you want of
my wife?”
“What do we want of her? Parbleu! we’ve come to see the little one that
we’ve placed in her charge, and to find out how he is, the dear child.”
“The deuce! it’s monsieur le marquis!” cried Jacquinot, removing his hat
and throwing several children to the ground in order to reach the
carriage more quickly. “Excuse me, monsieur le marquis; you see, I
didn’t know you. I’ll show you the way; that’s our street over there;
it’s up hill, but you’ve got good horses.”
And Jacquinot ran ahead of the carriage, shouting at the top of his
lungs, and trying to dance.
“Here’s little Chérubin’s father! Here’s the Marquis de Grandvilain,
coming to our house! Ah! I’m going to drink his health.”
The man who was in the carriage answered:
“No, I am not the marquis, I am Jasmin, his first valet; and
mademoiselle who is with me is not madame la marquise; she is
Turlurette, her maid. But it’s all the same, our masters or us, it’s
absolutely the same thing.”
“What a stupid thing to say, Jasmin,” said Turlurette, nudging her
companion; “the idea! our masters or us being the same thing!”
“I mean so far as the child we have come to see is concerned. They have
sent us to find out about his health; can’t we see that as well as our
masters? And even better, for we have better eyes than they have.”
“You speak of your masters with very little respect, Monsieur Jasmin.”
“Mademoiselle, I respect and venerate them, but that doesn’t prevent me
from saying that they are both of them in a miserable state. What
wretched carcasses! They make me feel very sad!”
“Hush, Monsieur Jasmin, here we are!”
The carriage had stopped in front of Frimousset’s house, and Jacquinot’s
shouts had put the whole household in commotion.
“Those are Chérubin’s parents,” was heard in every direction. The little
boys rushed to meet the carriage; Jacquinot went to draw wine to offer
to his guests; while Nicole, after hastily washing her nursling and
wiping his nose, took him in her arms and presented him to Jasmin and
Turlurette, just as they alighted from the carriage, and called out to
them:
“Here he is, monsieur and madame; take him, and see how well he is! Ah!
I flatter myself that he wasn’t as pretty as that when you gave him to
me!”
“True; he’s superb!” said Jasmin, kissing the child.
“Yes, he is as well as can be!” said Turlurette, turning little Chérubin
over and over in every direction.
But while they admired her nursling, Nicole, who had had time to recover
herself, looked closely at Jasmin and Turlurette, and then exclaimed:
“But I say, it seems to me that monsieur and madame ain’t the child’s
father and mother. Pardi! I recognize monsieur by his red nose and his
peppered face; he’s the one who came to the bureau and picked me out.”
“Yes, nurse, you are not mistaken,” replied Jasmin, “I am not my master;
I mean that I am not the marquis, and that is what I shouted to your
husband, but he didn’t listen. But that doesn’t make any difference; we
were sent here, Turlurette and I, to satisfy ourselves about young
Grandvilain’s health, and to report to monsieur le marquis and his
wife.”
“You will always be welcome,” said Nicole.
“And then you won’t refuse to taste our wine and refresh yourselves,”
cried Jacquinot, bringing a huge jar, full to the brim of a wine
perfectly _nif_, which means new in the language of the country people.
“I never refuse to taste any wine, and I am always glad to refresh
myself, even when I am not warm,” replied Jasmin. “But first of all, I
must fulfil to the letter my dear master’s orders. Nurse, undress the
child, if you please, and let me see him all naked, so that I can judge
if he is in good condition from top to toe--inclusively.”
“Oh, bless my soul! drink and let us alone! That is my business!” said
Mademoiselle Turlurette, still keeping the child in her arms.
“Mademoiselle, I will not prevent you from looking at the child too, but
I know what my master ordered me to do, and I propose to obey him. Give
me Chérubin, and let me make a little Cupid of him.”
“I won’t give him to you.”
“Then I’ll take him!”
“Come and try it!”
Jasmin leaped upon the child, but Turlurette would not let him go, and
each of them pulled him; Chérubin shrieked, and the nurse, to put an end
to this imitation of the judgment of Solomon, adroitly took the child
from both of them. In the twinkling of an eye she undressed him, and,
handing him to the two servants, bade them kiss her nursling’s plump
little posterior.
“There! what do you think of him?” she cried; “ain’t he fine? You’d like
to be as fresh and plump as that, wouldn’t you?--but I wish you may get
it!”
The nurse’s action restored general good-humor and peace between the
servants of the house of Grandvilain. Turlurette did not tire of kissing
her master’s child. As for Jasmin, he took a huge pinch of snuff, then
seated himself at a table, and said:
“Yes, yes, everything is all right; we have a superb scion. And now, let
us taste your wine, foster-father.”
Jacquinot made haste to fill the glasses, drink, and fill again; and
Jasmin was as well pleased with the foster-father as with the nurse.
“But why did not monsieur le marquis and madame come themselves?” asked
Nicole.
“Oh!” Turlurette replied with a sigh, “my poor mistress isn’t very well;
when she tried to nurse the child, she didn’t get along well, and now
that she’s given it up, she’s worse than ever!”
“But I offered to take our Chérubin’s place, in order to relieve my
excellent mistress!” murmured Jasmin, tossing off a great bumper of sour
wine.
“Mon Dieu! Monsieur Jasmin, you’re forever saying stupid things,” said
Turlurette; “the idea of madame feeding you.”
“Why not, when it was the doctor’s orders? I once knew a lady who nursed
several cats and two rabbits, because she had too much milk.”
“Oh! we’ve had enough of your stories!--In short, my mistress is very
weak; she can’t leave her room, or else she’d have come long ago to see
her dear child; she talks about him all the time.”
“As for monsieur le marquis,” said Jasmin, “he has the gout in his
heels, which makes it very hard for him to walk. I suggested a way to do
it, and that was to walk on his toes and not touch his heels to the
ground; he tried it, but after taking a few steps that way, _patatras_!
he fell flat on the floor, and he has never been willing to try again.
But they sent us in their place, and never fear, we will make a good
report of what we have seen. You have restored our son’s life! You are
excellent people! Here’s your health, foster-father; your wine scrapes
the palate, but it isn’t unpleasant, and it has a taste of claret.”
While Jasmin drank and chattered, Turlurette went to the carriage to
fetch what her mistress had sent to the nurse. There were presents of
all sorts: sugar, coffee, clothes, and even toys for Chérubin’s
foster-brothers. The room in which the peasants usually sat would hardly
hold all that came out of the carriage. The little Frimoussets jumped
and shouted for joy, and rolled on the floor, at sight of all those
presents, and Nicole said again and again:
“Madame la marquise is very kind! but she can be sure that her son will
eat all these nice things; my _gas_ won’t touch ‘em! Besides, they
prefer pork.”
Jasmin enjoyed himself exceedingly with Jacquinot, and Turlurette was
finally obliged to remind him that their masters were impatiently
awaiting their return. The domestics bade the villagers farewell. They
kissed little Chérubin again, but on the face this time, and returned to
their master’s carriage, which quickly took them back to Paris.
The marchioness awaited the return of her servants with the anxiety of a
mother who fears for the life of the only child that Heaven has granted
her. And despite his gout, Monsieur de Grandvilain dragged himself to
the window from time to time, to see if he could discover his carriage
in the distance.
Turlurette, who was young and active, ran ahead of Jasmin and entered
the room with a radiant air; her face announced that she brought good
news.
“Magnificent, madame! magnificent health! A superb child! Oh! no one
would ever know him; he was so pale and thin when he went away, and now
he’s as fat and solid as a rock.”
“Really, Turlurette,” cried the marchioness; “you are not deceiving us?”
“Oh! just ask Jasmin, madame; here he comes.”
Jasmin appeared, puffing like an ox, because he had tried to go upstairs
as quickly as Turlurette. He walked forward, bowed gravely to his
masters and said:
“Our young marquis is in a most flourishing condition; I had the honor
to kiss his posterior; I ask your pardon for taking that liberty, but he
is such a lovely child and so well kept! I assure you that the
Frimousset family is worthy of our confidence, and that we have only
praise to give the nurse and her husband.”
These words filled the atmosphere of the hôtel de Grandvilain with joy.
Chérubin’s mamma promised herself that she would go to Gagny to see her
son as soon as her health was restored, and Monsieur le Marquis de
Grandvilain swore that he would do the same as soon as the gout should
be obliging enough to leave his heels.
VI
TIME AND ITS EFFECTS
The old marquis and his wife were very happy when they knew that their
son was in good health; they forgot that their own health was poor, and
they made great plans for the future.
There is an old song that says:
“To-day belongs to us,
To-morrow belongs to no one.”
All of which is very true; and it means that we must never rely upon the
morrow; but that does not prevent us from often making plans in which we
stride over a great number of years, which is much more than a morrow!
And most of those same plans are destined never to be executed. We are
wise to make them, however, for in them consists the better part of our
happiness; what we actually have in hand never seems so sweet as what we
expect; it is with that as with those landscapes which seem charming to
us at a distance, but very commonplace when we come close to them.
A month after receiving the assurance that her son was well, and that he
had entirely recovered his health, Aménaïde, feeling somewhat better,
determined to go out and take the air, in order that she might sooner be
in a condition to go to Gagny. But whether it was that she went out too
soon, or that a new disease declared itself, the marchioness was
feeling wretched when she returned; she went back to bed, and a
fortnight later little Chérubin’s mother was laid in her grave. However,
she had not realized that she was dying, and up to the last moment had
retained the hope of going to embrace her son.
The old marquis was in despair at his loss; but at seventy years a man
no longer loves as at thirty; as it grows old, the heart becomes less
loving, and that is the effect of experience no less than of years; men
are so deceived in their affections during the course of their lives,
that they inevitably end by becoming selfish and by concentrating upon
themselves the affection which they once offered to others.
Moreover, the marquis was not left alone on earth; had he not his son to
comfort him? His faithful retainer said to him one day:
“My dear master, think of your little Chérubin; he has no mother now;
you certainly ought to have died before her, for you were much older,
but things don’t always go as one expects! Madame la marquise is dead
and you are alive; to be sure, you have the gout, but there are people
whom it doesn’t carry away at once; you are a proof of it. Be a man,
monsieur le marquis, and remember your son, of whom you will make a
lusty blade, such as you used to be; for you were a famous young rake,
monsieur, although no one would suspect it to look at you now.”
“What do you mean, Jasmin? Am I very much changed? Do I look as if I
were impotent now?”
“I don’t say that, monsieur, but I do think that you would find it
difficult to keep five or six appointments in the same day; and that is
what often happened in the old days! Ah! what a lady-killer you were!
Well, I have an idea that your son will take after you, that he too
will send me with billets-doux. Ha! ha! I will carry them with great
pleasure; I know all about slipping notes into ladies’ hands.”
“In other words, my poor fellow, you were forever making mistakes and
blunders, and it wasn’t your fault that I wasn’t surprised and murdered
a hundred times by jealous husbands or rivals.”
“Do you think so, monsieur? Oh! you are mistaken; it was so long ago
that you have forgotten all about it.”
“After all,” rejoined Monsieur de Grandvilain, after a moment, “even if
I should weep for the poor marchioness all the time, that would not
bring her back to me. I must preserve myself for my son. Ah! only let me
see him when he is twenty years old! That is all I ask.”
“The deuce! I should say so! You are not modest!” said Jasmin; “twenty
added to the seventy you are now, would make you ninety!”
“Well, Jasmin, don’t men ever live to that age?”
“Oh! very seldom; but it may happen.”
“How old are you, you rascal, to venture to make such remarks?”
“Why, monsieur, I am fifty,” replied Jasmin, straightening himself up
and putting out his leg.
“Hum! I believe that you take off something; you look much older than
that. But no matter, I will bury ten like you!”
“Monsieur is at liberty to do so, certainly.”
“And as soon as my gout has left me, I will go and embrace my heir. Of
course I could send for the nurse to come here; but the doctor says that
children mustn’t have change of air; and I would rather deprive myself
of seeing mine than expose him to the danger of being sick again.”
“Besides, monsieur, whenever you want me to go to see our young man, you
know that I am always ready; and there’s no need of sending that fat
Turlurette with me; I know how to tell whether the child is well. I will
go to Gagny every day if you want; it doesn’t tire me a bit.”
Jasmin was very fond of going to see Chérubin; in the first place, the
faithful retainer was already devotedly attached to his master’s son;
and in the second place, he always emptied several jars of wine with the
foster-father, who also had become his friend. The marchioness had been
dead five months, when Monsieur de Grandvilain at last got relief from
his gout and was able to leave his great easy-chair. His first thought
was to order the horses to be harnessed to his carriage; then he climbed
in, Jasmin scrambling up behind, and they started for Gagny.
Little Chérubin continued in excellent health, because it was not he who
had the delicacies that Turlurette continued to send to Nicole. One of
the nurse’s little boys had already died of inflammation of the bowels;
the other two, who were larger and stronger, still held out against the
biscuits and sweetmeats; but their complexions were sallow, while
Chérubin’s glowed with health and freshness.
On the day when the marquis started for Gagny, Jacquinot Frimousset had
begun his visits to the wine-shop in the morning, and he was already
quite drunk when one of his friends informed him that the Marquis de
Grandvilain’s carriage was in front of his door.
“Good!” said Jacquinot, “it’s my friend Monsieur Jasmin come to see us.
He ain’t a bit proud, although he’s a valet de chambre in a noble
family; we’ll empty a few jugs together.”
And the nurse’s husband succeeded, although staggering and stumbling at
every step, in reaching his own house; he entered the room where
Monsieur de Grandvilain was at that moment occupied in dandling his son,
who was then a year old; and who seemed much amused by his dear father’s
chin, which did not remain at rest for an instant.
“Who’s that old codger?” cried Frimousset, trying to open his eyes and
leaning against the wall.
“It’s Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain himself,” cried Nicole, making
signs to her husband to assume a more respectful attitude; but he roared
with laughter, and said:
“That, Chérubin’s father? Nonsense! Impossible! It’s his grandfather,
his great grandfather at least! As if a shrivelled and shrunken old
fellow like that could have such young children!”
Monsieur de Grandvilain turned purple with rage; for a moment he was
tempted to take his son away and never again set foot inside the house
of that vulgar peasant who had said such unpleasant things to him; but
Nicole had already succeeded in pushing her husband out of the room, and
Jasmin, who was engaged in refreshing himself at a little distance, went
to his master and said:
“Don’t pay any attention to him, my dear master, the foster-father has
been drinking; he’s drunk, he can’t see straight; but for that, he would
never have said such things to you; he might have thought them, perhaps,
but he wouldn’t have said them.”
“My husband is a drunken sot and nothing else,” said Nicole. “I ask your
pardon for him, monsieur le marquis; the idea of thinking that you ain’t
your son’s father! Mon Dieu! it’s plain enough that his eyes are blinded
by drink. Why, the dear child is the very image of you! He has your
nose and your mouth and your eyes and everything!”
This language was absurdly exaggerated, and far from flattering to
little Chérubin; but the Marquis de Grandvilain, who did not choose to
grow old, took it all for gospel truth; he looked at his son again and
murmured:
“Yes, he looks like me, he will be a very handsome boy.”
He rose and put a purse in the nurse’s hand, saying to her:
“I am well pleased; my son is well; continue to take good care of him,
for since the air of this neighborhood agrees with him, I think that I
shall do well to leave him with you a long while, a very long while, in
fact. Children always have time enough to study; health before
everything! eh, Jasmin?”
“Oh yes! health indeed, monsieur! You are quite right; for what good
does it do to know a lot when one is dead?”
Monsieur de Grandvilain smiled at his valet’s reflection; then, after
embracing Chérubin, he returned to his carriage. Jacquinot was cowering
in a corner of the yard, and did not dare to stir; he contented himself
with bowing to the marquis, who, as he passed the peasant, drew himself
up and did his utmost to impart to his gait the ease and firmness of
youth.
Several months passed. Monsieur de Grandvilain often said: “I am going
to Gagny.” But he did not go; the dread of meeting the foster-father
again, and of being greeted with fresh compliments after the style of
the former ones, restrained the marquis, and he contented himself with
sending for his son, who had become large enough to take such a short
journey without danger.
At such times Nicole passed several hours at the mansion; but Chérubin
did not enjoy himself there; he always wept and asked to be taken back
to the village. Whereupon the marquis would embrace his son and say to
his nurse:
“Go at once, we must not thwart him; perhaps it would make him ill.”
Two more years passed in this way. Chérubin was in excellent health, but
he was not stout or robust, like the children of most peasants; he was a
merry little fellow, he loved to play and to run about; but as soon as
he was taken to Paris, as soon as he found himself with his father at
the hôtel de Grandvilain, the boy lost all his merriment; to be sure,
the old mansion in Faubourg Saint-Germain was not a cheerful place; and
the old marquis, who was almost always suffering from the gout, was
rather a dismal object himself.
However, they did what they could to make his visits to his father’s
house pleasant to the youngster; they had filled a room with toys, and
they always covered a table with sweetmeats; Chérubin was at liberty to
eat everything, to break all that he saw; he was left free to do
whatever he chose; but after looking at a few of the toys and eating a
cake or two, the child would run to his nurse, take hold of her apron,
gaze at her affectionately and say in an imploring voice:
“Mamma Nicole, ain’t we going home soon?”
One day the marquis assumed a solemn expression, and beckoning his son
to his side, said to him:
“But, Chérubin, you are at home here. When you are at the village, you
are at your nurse’s home; here you are in your father’s house and
consequently at your own home.”
“Oh, no!” he replied, “this ain’t to home.”
“You are an obstinate little fellow, Chérubin; you don’t think that you
are at home here, because you are not used to being here; but if you
should stay here no more than a fortnight, you would forget the village;
for after all it is much finer here than at your nurse’s house; isn’t
it?”
“Oh no! it’s ever so much prettier to our house!”
“To our house! to our house! this is most annoying. However, as it is
so, as you are not happy at your father’s house, you are going to stay
here, Chérubin; you shan’t go back to your nurse’s again; I am going to
keep you with me; you shall not leave me after this; and at all events I
will teach you to speak French, and not to say ‘to our house’ any more!”
The child did not dare to reply; the stern tone which his father assumed
to him for the first time, terrified him so that he was speechless and
dared not move; but in a moment his features contracted, his tears
gushed forth and he began to sob.
Thereupon Jasmin, who, in an adjoining room, had heard all that had been
said, rushed at his master like a madman, crying:
“Well! what does this mean? So you make our child cry now, do you?
That’s very nice of you! do you propose to become a tyrant?”
“Hold your tongue, Jasmin!”
“No, monsieur, I won’t allow you to make our little one unhappy! I
should think not! I say that you shall not! Look, see how he is crying,
the dear boy! For heaven’s sake, what is the matter with you to-day,
monsieur? Has the gout gone to your heart?”
“Jasmin----”
“I don’t care, monsieur; beat me, discharge me, send me to the stable,
make me sleep with the horses; do whatever you choose, but don’t make
this child cry; for if you do, why--I----”
Jasmin paused; he could say no more, because he too was weeping.
Monsieur de Grandvilain, when he saw his faithful servant cover his eyes
with his handkerchief, held out his hand instead of scolding him, and
said:
“Come! come! don’t lose your head. I was wrong, yes, I was wrong, since
I have made this poor child unhappy. After all, my company is not very
lively; the gout often makes me cross. What would he do in this great
house, poor boy? He is too young to be made to study. And then he no
longer has any mother, so we must leave him with his nurse as long as
possible. Besides, the air in Paris is not so good as that which he
breathes in the village. So take back your foster-child, nurse; as he
loves you so dearly, it must be that you make him happy. Come and kiss
me, Chérubin, and don’t cry any more; you are going back to your good
friends; they do not love you any more than we do, but you love them
more. I will try to be patient, and perhaps my turn will come some day.”
“Bravo! bravo!” cried Jasmin, while his master embraced his son. “Ah!
that is what I call talking; I recognize you now, monsieur. Why,
certainly your Chérubin will love you, he will adore you,--but later;
you can’t expect that all at once; let him grow a little, and if he
doesn’t love you then, why I shall have a word to say to him.”
So the nurse took Chérubin back to the village. Nicole was well pleased
to keep a child who was a fortune to her; but she promised the old
marquis to bring his son to him the next week, for the old man seemed
more depressed than usual at parting.
They say that there are presentiments, secret warnings, which enable us
to divine that some disaster threatens us; that our heart beats more
violently when we part from a dear one whom we are destined never to see
again. Why should we not believe in presentiments? The ancients believed
in omens; men of sense are sometimes very superstitious; it is
infinitely better to believe in many things than to believe in nothing;
and strong minds are not always great minds.
Had the Marquis de Grandvilain a presentiment, that he was so loath to
allow his son to go? That is something that we cannot tell; but it is a
fact that he was destined never to see him again. Three days after the
scene which we have described, an attack of gout carried the old
nobleman off in a few hours; he had only time to whisper to Jasmin the
name of his notary, and to breathe that of his son.
The grief of the marquis’s valet was more intense, more touching, more
sincere, than that of a multitude of friends and relations would have
been. When our servants love us, they love us dearly, for they know our
faults as well as our good qualities, and they forgive us the former in
favor of the latter, which our friends and acquaintances never do.
Jasmin was especially distressed because he had reproved his master for
wanting to keep his son with him.
“I am responsible for his not being able to embrace his son again before
he died, my poor master!” he said to himself. “He had a presentiment of
his approaching death when he didn’t want to send the child back to the
country; and I presumed to scold him, villain that I am! and he did not
strike me as I deserved; on the contrary, he gave me his hand! Ah! I
would die of grief if I had not Chérubin to look out for.”
Thereupon Jasmin recalled the fact that his master, before he closed his
eyes, had stammered the name of his notary; and presuming that that
functionary was instructed concerning the wishes of the late marquis, he
made haste to go to him and tell him of his master’s death.
Monsieur de Grandvilain’s notary was a man still young, but of a serious
and even somewhat severe aspect; he had, in fact, the marquis’s will in
his keeping, and was instructed to carry out his last wishes. He lost no
time in opening the document which he had in charge, and read what
follows:
“I possess thirty thousand francs a year. All my property descends
to my son, my sole heir. I desire that he be put in possession of
his property at the age of fifteen. Until then I beg that my notary
will undertake to manage it. I desire that no change shall be made
inside my house, and that none of my servants shall be discharged.
I appoint Jasmin, my faithful valet de chambre, steward of my
household. Every month my notary shall hand him such sum as he
shall require for the household expenses and for the education of
my son.
“SIGISMOND VENCESLAS, MARQUIS DE GRANDVILAIN.”
The notary could not help smiling after reading this extraordinary
testament, and Jasmin, who had listened with all his ears, gazed at him
with an air of amazement, and faltered:
“In all this, monsieur le notaire, I didn’t understand who is to be the
child’s guardian.”
“There isn’t any, Jasmin, his father hasn’t appointed any; he relied
upon you and me; upon me to administer his fortune, and upon you to
superintend his conduct. It seems that Monsieur de Grandvilain had
great confidence in you; I have no doubt that you deserve it, but I urge
you to redouble your zeal with respect to the young marquis. Remember
that it is your duty now to watch over him. As for his fortune, his
father wished him to be placed in possession of it at the age of
fifteen. That is making him rich at a very early age; but since it is
his father’s will, see to it, Jasmin, that at all events, when fifteen,
the young marquis is already a man in knowledge and strength of
character.”
Jasmin listened to this speech with the greatest attention; he attempted
to reply, but got confused, lost his way in a sentence which he could
not finish, and finally left the notary, after receiving a sum of money
with which to begin to manage his master’s household.
On returning to the house, Jasmin had grown three inches and was puffed
up like a balloon; vanity perches everywhere, among the small as well as
among the great, and it is likely to be even more powerful among the
former who are not accustomed to grandeur.
All the servants gathered about the valet, curious to learn the contents
of the will. Jasmin assumed a peculiarly idiotic expression, and
replied, speaking through his nose:
“Never fear, my friends, there is to be no change here; I keep you all
in my service.”
“You, Monsieur Jasmin! are you our master’s heir?”
“No, no, I am not the heir, but I represent the heir; in fact, I am the
steward of the household. I will keep everybody: cook, coachman,
housekeeper, because Monsieur de Grandvilain wished it; otherwise I
should have discharged you all, for servants without a master are
useless things. But I forget, our master now is the young marquis, and
whenever he chooses to occupy his house, he will find his household all
arranged; that was his late father’s wish, no doubt, and we must conform
to it.”
All the servants bowed before Jasmin, who had become a man of weight,
and he, after receiving the congratulations of those who were now his
inferiors, withdrew to his chamber, and, reflecting upon what the notary
had said, cudgelled his brains to decide what it was his duty to do with
Chérubin, in order properly to carry out his master’s designs.
After passing several hours at this occupation, without result, Jasmin
exclaimed:
“Faith, I believe the best thing to do is to leave little Chérubin out
at nurse.”
VII
LITTLE LOUISE
Chérubin was still at the village, still living with his nurse Nicole
Frimousset, and yet Chérubin was ten years old. Although of small
stature, his health was excellent, and the attentions of a nurse had
long since ceased to be necessary to him. But the marquis’s heir had
retained undiminished his affection for the place where he had passed
his childhood, and he lost his temper when it was suggested that he
should leave it.
Meanwhile Jacquinot, the foster-father, had become more of a sot than
ever; and as she grew older, Nicole, being obliged to scold her husband
incessantly, was rarely in good humor. And then her two boys had left
the village: one was a mason at Orléans, the other was apprenticed to a
carpenter at Livry.
In spite of that, Chérubin still enjoyed life at his nurse’s house,
where he had for his companion a little girl who was only two years
younger than he. It was a few days before the Marquis de Grandvilain’s
death, that one morning, a very young lady from the city, fashionably
dressed, alighted from a cab in front of Nicole’s cottage. This young
lady, who was beautiful and bore a look of distinction, was very pale
and seemed much excited; she had in her arms a little girl of about a
year old, and she said to Jacquinot’s wife, in a voice broken by sobs:
“This is my daughter; she is only a year old, but she has been weaned
for some months; I wish to leave her with some kindhearted people who
will take great care of her and treat her as their own child. Will you
take charge of her, madame? I cannot keep her with me any longer;
indeed, it is possible that I may not be able to take her for a long
while. There are three hundred francs in this roll; that is all that I
can raise at present; but within a year I will send you the same amount,
if I do not come before that to see my child.”
Nicole, who had profited much by bringing up one child, thought that a
second fortune had fallen into her lap, and eagerly accepted the
proposition which was made to her. The young lady handed her the little
girl, the money, and a large bundle containing the child’s clothes;
then, after embracing her daughter once more, she hurriedly entered her
carriage, which instantly drove away.
Not until then did Nicole reflect that she had not asked the young lady
her name, or her child’s name, or her address; but it was too late, for
the cab was already a long way off. Nicole soon consoled herself for
her forgetfulness, thinking:
“After all, she will come again, she certainly can’t mean to abandon her
child. She has given me three hundred francs; that is enough for me to
be patient; and then the child is a sweet little thing, and I believe I
would have kept her for nothing. What shall I call her? _Pardieu!_
Louise; for this is the feast of Saint-Louis. When her mother comes
back, if she don’t like that name, she can tell me the child’s own name.
What a fool I was not to ask her! But she seemed in such a hurry, and so
excited.--Well, Louise,--that is decided; she will be a playmate for my
Chérubin, and in that way the dear child won’t get tired of living with
us. Bless my soul! the longer we keep him, the better off we are.”
And the little girl had, in fact, become Chérubin’s inseparable
companion; she had grown up with him, she shared all his games, all his
pleasures. Chérubin was not happy when Louise was not with him; the
little girl’s activity was a foil to the little marquis’s natural
mildness of character; and when he began to show signs of becoming a
charming young man, Louise gave promise of being a very pretty young
girl. But the young lady who had brought to Nicole that child whose
mother she claimed to be, had not returned to Gagny; once only, a year
after her visit, a messenger from Paris had appeared at Frimousset’s
house and had handed them a paper which contained only one hundred and
fifty francs, saying:
“This is from the mother of the little girl who was brought here a year
ago; she requests you to continue to take care of her child.”
Nicole had questioned the man, had asked him for the name and address of
the lady who sent him; but the messenger had replied that he did not
know, that she had come to his stand in Paris and had given him the
errand to do, paying him in advance, after making sure that he had a
badge.
Nicole had not been able to learn anything more, and since then she had
received neither money nor information. But Louise was so attractive
that the idea of sending her away had not once occurred to her. Besides,
Chérubin was devoted to her, the little girl was a new bond which kept
him in his nurse’s family; and when by chance Jacquinot made any
reflection upon the child whom they were bringing up for nothing, his
wife would reply:
“Hold your tongue, you drunkard; it isn’t any of your business; if the
girl’s mother doesn’t come to see her, it must be because she is dead,
or else because she is a bad mother; if she is dead, then I must take
her place with the child; if she is a bad mother, Louise would be
unhappy with her, and I prefer to keep her with me.”
While Chérubin grew up beside his little friend, Jasmin continued to
govern the Marquis de Grandvilain’s household; he was careful in his
expenditure; the servants were not permitted to indulge in any excesses,
and he himself got tipsy only once a week, which was very modest in one
who had the keys to the cellar. But Jasmin thought constantly of his
young master; he went to see him often, and sometimes passed whole days
at Gagny; and he always asked Chérubin if he wished to go back to Paris
with him, to his own house. The little fellow always refused, and Jasmin
always returned to Paris alone, consoling himself with the thought that
the young marquis was in excellent health, and that that was the main
point.
When Jasmin went to the notary to ask for money, which he never did
without presenting an exact statement of what he had to pay out, the
notary, after praising the faithful valet for the honesty and economy
with which he regulated the household expenditure, never failed to ask
him:
“And our young marquis, how does he come on?”
“He is in superb health,” Jasmin would reply.
“He ought to be a big fellow now, he is nearly eleven years old.”
“He has a very pretty figure and a charming face; he will be a little
jewel, whom all the women will dote on, I am sure, as they doted on his
late father; but I presume that they won’t be the same women.”
“That is all very well; but how is he getting on with his studies; have
you placed the little marquis at a good institution?”
“Excellent, monsieur; oh, yes! he is in a very good house indeed; he
eats as much as he wants.”
“I have no doubt that he is well fed, but that is not enough; at his
age, what he wants above all is food for the mind. Does he give
satisfaction?”
“They are enchanted with him; they would like never to part with him, he
is so attractive.”
“Has he had any prizes?”
“Prizes! he has whatever he wants; he has only to ask, they refuse him
nothing.”
“You don’t understand me; has he obtained any prizes for his work, I
mean; is he strong in Latin, Greek, and history?”
Jasmin was slightly embarrassed by those questions; he coughed, and
faltered a few words which could not be understood. But the notary, who
attributed his embarrassment to other causes, continued:
“I am talking about things you don’t understand, eh, my old Jasmin?
Latin and Greek and such matters are not within your scope. However,
when I have a few moments to myself, I will come to you, and you must
take me to see your young marquis.”
Jasmin went away, muttering:
“The deuce! the deuce! if he goes to see my little Chérubin some day, he
won’t be very well content with his studies; but it isn’t my fault if
monsieur le marquis refuses to leave his nurse. That notary keeps
talking to me about food for the mind; it seems to me that when a child
eats four meals a day with a good appetite, his mind ought not to be any
more hungry than his stomach, unless it doesn’t want to be fed.”
One day, however, after a visit to the notary, when he had again urged
the old valet to commend the young marquis to his teachers, Jasmin
started at once for Gagny, saying to himself on the way:
“I am an old brute! I leave my master’s son in ignorance; for after all,
I know how to read myself, and I believe that Chérubin doesn’t even know
that. Certainly this state of things can’t be allowed to go on. Later,
people will say: ‘Jasmin took no care of the child who was placed in his
charge. Jasmin is unworthy of the late marquis’s confidence.’--I don’t
propose that people shall say that of me. I am sixty years old now, but
that’s no reason for being an idiot. I propose to show my strength of
character.”
When Jasmin arrived at Nicole’s, he found her at work in the house,
while Jacquinot sat half asleep in an old easy-chair.
“My friends,” said Jasmin, entering the room with a very busy air, and
rolling his eyes about, “things can’t remain like this; we must make a
complete change.”
Nicole gazed at the old servant and said:
“You want to change our house over; you think this room is too dark?
Dear me! we’re used to it, you see.”
“Ain’t we going to drink a glass?” said Jacquinot, rising, and rubbing
his eyes.
“In a minute, Jacquinot, in a minute.--My friends, you don’t understand
me. I am talking about your foster-child, my young master, to whom you
only give such food as you yourselves eat; do you not?”
“Ain’t he satisfied, the dear child?” cried Nicole. “Bless my soul! I
will give him whatever he wants; all he has got to do is to speak. I
will make him tarts, cakes----”
“It isn’t that, Nicole, it isn’t that sort of food that I’m talking
about. It’s Chérubin’s mind that needs a lot of things.”
“Mind? Something light, I suppose? I will make him some cream cheese.”
“Once more, Dame Frimousset, allow me to speak. My young master must
become a scholar, or something like it; it isn’t a question of eating,
but of studying. What does he learn here with you? Does he even know how
to read, to write or to figure?”
“Faith, no,” said Nicole; “you never mentioned those things, and we
didn’t think they were necessary, especially as Chérubin is going to be
very rich; we didn’t think there was any need of his learning a trade.”
“It isn’t a question of learning a trade, but of becoming a scholar.”
“Ah yes! I understand, like the schoolmaster, who always stuffs his
conversation full of words that nobody knows what they mean.”
“That’s the very thing. Oh! if Chérubin could say some of those fine
sentences that no one can understand, that would be splendid.--So you
have a learned schoolmaster in this village, have you?”
“To be sure,--Monsieur Gérondif.”
“Gérondif! the name alone indicates a very learned man. Do you think he
would consent to come to your house and give my young master lessons?
For it is impossible for monsieur le marquis to go to school with all
the young brats in the village.”
“Why shouldn’t Monsieur Gérondif come here? He has educated two or three
children for people who come to Gagny to pass the summer. Besides, he
ain’t very well fixed, the dear man, and to earn a little money----”
“There is no difficulty about that; I will pay him whatever he asks. Do
you suppose that I could talk--that I could see this Monsieur Gérondif?”
“That’s easy enough; Jacquinot will go and fetch him. It’s after five
o’clock, so his school is over. Jacquinot, you will find the
schoolmaster at Manon the baker’s, because he goes there every day to
bake potatoes in her oven while it’s still hot.”
“Go, my dear Jacquinot; bring me this scholar, and then we will empty a
few bottles; I will treat Monsieur Gérondif too.”
That promise roused Jacquinot, who went out, promising to make haste,
and Jasmin asked Nicole:
“Where is my young master?”
“My _fieu_?”
“My master, the young Marquis de Grandvilain. He is eleven years old
now, my dear Nicole, and it seems to me that he is rather large for you
to keep on calling him your _fieu_.”
“Oh! bless my soul! habit--what do you expect?--He’s in the garden,
under the plum trees.”
“Alone?”
“Oh no! Louise is with him, always with him. As if he could get along
without her!”
“Ah! is that the little girl who was left here, and whose parents you
don’t know?”
“Mon Dieu! yes.”
“And you are still taking care of her?”
“_Pardi!_ one child more. When there’s enough for three, there’s enough
for four.”
“That is what my father used to say, when he cribbed my share of
breakfast; and in our house, on the contrary, when there was four of us,
there was never enough for two.--Never mind, Dame Frimousset, you are an
excellent woman, and when Chérubin leaves you, we will make you a
handsome present.”
“Oh! don’t speak of that; I should rather not have any present, if my
_fieu_ would never leave me.”
“Oh yes! I can understand that; but still, we can’t leave him out at
nurse until he is thirty; that isn’t the custom. I am going to present
my respects to him, while I am waiting for Monsieur Gérondif; and I will
inform him that he must become a scholar.”
Chérubin was at the farther end of the garden, which ended in an
orchard. There, trees which were never trimmed extended at pleasure
their branches laden with fruit, as if to prove to man that nature does
not need his help to grow and bear.
The Marquis de Grandvilain’s son had attractive, regular features; his
great blue eyes were exceedingly beautiful, and their soft and
languorous expression made them resemble a woman’s eyes rather than a
man’s; long dark lashes shaded those lovely eyes, which, according to
appearances, were destined to realize Jasmin’s prophecy, and to make
many conquests some day. The rest of the face was agreeable, although
not especially remarkable, except his complexion, which was as white as
that of a girl who has a white skin; life in the country had not tanned
the young marquis, because Nicole, who had always taken the greatest
care of her foster-child, never left him exposed to the sun; and because
the little fellow, who was not employed in the arduous labor of the
fields, always had leisure to seek the cool shade.
Little Louise, who was then nine years old, had one of those pretty
faces, gay and sad by turns, which painters delight to copy when they
wish to represent a young maiden of Switzerland or of the neighborhood
of Lake Geneva. It was a lovely face, after the style of Raphael’s
virgins, in which however there was a melancholy and charm distinctly
French. Louise’s eyes and hair were jet black, but very long lashes
tempered their brilliancy, and gave to them a sort of velvety aspect
which had an indescribable charm; a high, proud forehead, a very small
mouth, and white teeth set like pearls, combined with her other features
to make her one of the sweetest little girls whom one could hope to
meet; and when she laughed, two little dimples which appeared in her
cheeks added a new charm to her whole person; and she laughed often, for
she was only nine years old. Nicole treated her as her own child,
Chérubin as his sister, and she had as yet no suspicion that her mother
had abandoned her.
When Jasmin walked toward the orchard, Chérubin and Louise were eating
plums. The little girl was plucking them and throwing them to her
companion, who sat at the foot of a tree so heavily laden that its
branches seemed on the point of breaking beneath their burden.
Jasmin removed his hat, and humbly saluted his young master, uncovering
his head which was almost bald, though the few hairs which still
remained above the ears were brought together and combed with much care
over the forehead, and made the old servant look, at a distance, as if
he had tied a bandage around his head.
“I present my respects to Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain,” said
Jasmin.
At that moment the girl shook a branch which extended over the old
valet’s head, and a shower of plums rained down upon Jasmin’s skull.
Thereupon there was a roar of laughter from behind the tree, and
Chérubin mingled his laughter with it; while the old servant, who would
not have kept his hat on his head in his master’s presence for anything
in the world, received with resignation the rain of plums that fell on
him.
“My young master still seems to be in flourishing health,” continued
Jasmin, after throwing to the ground a few plums which had lodged
between his coat collar and his stock.
“Yes, Jasmin, yes. But just see how handsome they are, and good too; eat
some, Jasmin; you have only to stoop and pick some up.”
“Monsieur is very kind, but plums--sometimes they occasion
inconvenience.--I have come, first of all, to ask if monsieur wishes to
return to Paris with me at last; his house is, as always, ready to
receive him and----”
Jasmin was unable to finish his sentence, because a fresh shower of
plums fell upon his head. This time he glanced angrily about, but the
mischievous girl had hidden behind a tree; meanwhile Chérubin exclaimed:
“No, Jasmin, no, I don’t want to go to Paris, I am so happy here; I have
told you already that I should be bored in Paris, and I have such a
pleasant time at my dear Nicole’s.”
“Very good, monsieur le marquis, I don’t wish to thwart you on that
point; but if you stay here, you must not pass all your time in playing
any longer; you must study, my dear master, you must become a learned
man; it is absolutely necessary and----”
A shower of plums, heavier than the other two, once more cut Jasmin
short; and he, finding that he had two breaches in his band of hair,
turned round and exclaimed angrily:
“Oh! this is too much; do you want to make marmalade of my head?--Ah! it
is that little girl who is playing these tricks on me. It is very
pretty, mademoiselle; I advise you to laugh; there is good reason for
it.”
Louise had run to hide behind Chérubin, laughing heartily; and he,
laughing also at the grimace made by his old servant, said to him:
“It is all your own fault, Jasmin; leave us in peace. Louise and I were
eating plums, and having a good time; why did you come to disturb us, to
tell me a lot of foolish things? that I must study, that I must be a
learned man. I don’t want to study! Go and drink with Jacquinot; go, go!
I don’t need you.”
Jasmin seemed sorely embarrassed; at last he replied:
“I am sorry to annoy monsieur le marquis, but you are too big now not to
know how to read or write; in fact, there are a lot of things which you
ought to know, because you are a marquis and--in short, your venerable
father’s notary says that you ought to have prizes in Latin and Greek,
and it seems that it is customary to study in order to get prizes. I
have just sent after the schoolmaster of this village, Monsieur
Gérondif; he is coming here, and he is to teach you, for Nicole assures
me that he is a good scholar, although he is obliged to have his
potatoes baked in the baker’s oven.”
Chérubin’s brow darkened, and the little fellow replied with a very
pronounced pout:
“I don’t want the schoolmaster to come here; I don’t need to be a
scholar. You tire me, Jasmin, with your Monsieur Gérondif!”
It pained Jasmin greatly to have to vex his young master. He did not
know what to say or to do; he twisted his hat and twirled it in his
hands, for he felt that after all it was necessary to compel the young
marquis not to be a dolt, but he did not know what course to pursue to
that end; and if at that moment he had received another shower of plums
it would not have roused him from his stupor.
But Nicole had followed the old servant at a distance; the nurse
realized that if Chérubin refused to learn anything at her house, they
would be obliged to make him go to Paris to learn. Dreading lest she
might lose a child whom she loved, and who had brought ease to her
household for eleven years, Nicole felt that some way must be found to
induce the boy to consent to take lessons of the schoolmaster.
Women, even those in the country, speedily divine where our vulnerable
point is. Nicole, who had gradually drawn near, and was then standing
behind Jasmin, who had ceased to speak or move, advanced a few steps
nearer the children, and, taking Louise by the hand, said:
“Look you, Monsieur Jasmin, I see the reason plain enough why Chérubin
don’t want to work; it’s because he plays all day with this girl. Well!
as I too want my fieu to be a scholar, I am going to take Louise to one
of our relations two leagues away; she’ll be taken good care of there,
and then she won’t prevent Chérubin from studying.”
Nicole had not finished when the little boy ran to her and taking hold
of her dress, cried in a touching voice, and with tears in his eyes:
“No, no, don’t take Louise away; I will study, I will learn whatever you
want me to with Monsieur Gérondif; but don’t take Louise away, oh!
please don’t take her away!”
Nicole’s ruse had succeeded. She embraced her foster-child, Louise
leaped for joy when she found that she was not to be sent away, and
Jasmin would have done as much if his age had not made it impossible; he
threw his hat in the air, however, exclaiming:
“Long live Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain! ah! I knew perfectly well
that he would consent to become a learned man!”
At that moment Jacquinot appeared at the garden gate and shouted:
“Here’s Monsieur Gérondif; I’ve brought him with me.”
VIII
MONSIEUR GÉRONDIF
The new personage who had arrived at Nicole’s was a man of about forty
years of age, of medium height, rather stout than thin, with an ordinary
face, in which could be detected the desire to give himself an air of
importance, and the habit of bending the knee in servile fashion to all
those who were above him in social rank or in fortune.
Monsieur Gérondif had long, thick, greasy brown hair, which was cut
straight in front, just above the eyebrows, and which hid his coat
collar behind; on the sides it was held in respect by the ears. The
teacher had gray eyes, the size of which it was difficult to discover,
because he kept them lowered all the time, even when speaking to you. He
had a very large mouth, which was abundantly furnished with very fine
teeth, and whether for the purpose of displaying that attractive
feature, or to afford a favorable idea of the affability of his
disposition, he smiled almost continually when he talked, and never
failed to open his mouth so far that one could see his whole supply.
A nose much too large for the rest of the face, and almost always
adorned by a number of small pimples, impaired infinitely the general
aspect of the professor’s countenance; and the habit which he had
adopted of scratching it, and of stuffing it with snuff, gave to that
protuberance a very conspicuous red and black appearance, which would
have been in some degree repellent, if Monsieur Gérondif’s soft and
honeyed voice had not lessened the unfortunate impression produced at
first by his nose.
The schoolmaster’s costume was rather severe, for it was supposed to be
all black; the coat, trousers and waistcoat were in fact originally made
of cloth of that color; but time had wrought such ravages upon them all,
that it had often been necessary to apply patches upon each of those
garments; and whether from carelessness on the part of the person who
had made the repairs, or because black cloth was scarcer than any other
color in the neighborhood, blue, green, gray, and even nut-colored
pieces had been used to patch Monsieur Gérondif’s coat, trousers, and
waistcoat; so that he bore some resemblance to a harlequin; add to all
this, socks and wooden shoes, and a generally dirty aspect, and you will
have an idea of the individual who had been sent for to act as tutor to
the young Marquis de Grandvilain.
As for what he wore on his head, we have not mentioned that, for the
reason that Monsieur Gérondif never wore hat or cap, and that no one
could even remember having seen him with any sort of head covering in
his hand. He had an old umbrella, which boasted of but three ribs,
beneath which our schoolmaster bravely sheltered his head when it
rained, without fear that the old thing would collapse, because it was
divided into several pieces.
The schoolmaster suffered terribly from chilblains and corns on his
feet, so that he had been obliged to lean heavily upon Jacquinot’s arm,
which was doubtless the reason that Nicole’s husband had announced that
he had _brought_ Monsieur Gérondif. When he learned that he had been
sent for on the part of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, the
professor had not taken the time to remove his potatoes from the baker’s
oven, nor had he deemed it necessary to wash his hands, a task which he
performed in fact only on Sundays and holidays.
Jasmin pushed his young master in front of him. Chérubin did not release
Louise’s hand, as if he still feared that they proposed to separate him
from his dear companion. The old valet followed him, still holding his
hat in his hand; Nicole walked behind; and they all went to receive the
professor, who had halted on the threshold of the street door, sorely
embarrassed to know whether he should remove or retain his wooden shoes
before presenting himself to the distinguished persons who had sent for
him; at last he decided to appear in socks.
When he perceived the bald head of Jasmin, whose respectable costume had
nothing about it to indicate the servant, Monsieur Gérondif rushed to
meet him, smiling in the fashion best adapted to show his molars and his
incisors, and saluted him with:
“Honor to whom honor is due! _Salutem vos._ Monsieur le marquis, I
consider myself very happy to be before you at this moment.”
While Monsieur Gérondif made his complimentary address, bowing to the
ground, Jasmin, who saw that the professor had made a mistake and had
taken him for the marquis, hastily changed places with his young master;
Chérubin did not release Louise’s hand, so that when he raised his head,
Monsieur Gérondif found himself with the two children in front of him;
he thought that he had made a mistake, and pushed the little boy and his
friend aside with little ceremony, to place himself once more in front
of Jasmin, who was at the other end of the room, saying:
“Pardon the blunder; _errare humanum est._ I place myself at your
commands, monsieur le marquis. I did not even take the time to finish my
slight collation, in order that I might be instantly ready for your
orders.”
While the schoolmaster was speaking, Jasmin once more left his place and
stepped behind his master; Monsieur Gérondif seemed inclined to follow
him into every corner of the room, when Nicole said laughingly:
“But you are making a mistake, Monsieur Gérondif; the marquis is my
_fieu_, my foster-child, this pretty boy here.”
“And I am only his very humble servant, former valet to monsieur le
marquis, his father, who deigned when he died to entrust the care of his
heir to me,” said Jasmin, saluting Chérubin.
Monsieur Gérondif took the thing very well; he smiled anew and hastened
to place himself in front of Chérubin, saying:
“I make my excuses _ut iterum_, and that does not prevent me from saying
once more that I am the very humble servant of monsieur le marquis
_junior_.”
“Not Junior! de Grandvilain,” said Jasmin solemnly.
“One does not prevent the other,” replied Monsieur Gérondif, with a sly
smile, “permit me to inform you, brave Eumæus; for you remind me much of
that virtuous and royal retainer of Ulysses, King of Ithaca. I do not
know whether he was bald too--Homer does not say, but it is very
probable. I am at the orders of Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, who
can now tell me what he wants of me instantly.”
The schoolmaster’s long sentences, and the quotations with which he
seasoned his discourse, produced the best effect upon Jasmin, who, like
most fools, placed a high estimate on whatever he did not understand; so
he nodded his head to the nurse, muttering:
“He is a learned man! a very learned man, in fact; he will do very well
for us.”
As for Chérubin, who was not of his old servant’s opinion, and who found
Monsieur Gérondif very tiresome, he answered without hesitation:
“I don’t want you at all; it was Jasmin who insisted on sending for you,
to make me study--I don’t know what! I am perfectly willing to learn,
but Louise must stay with me during my lessons.”
Having said this, Chérubin abruptly turned his back on the schoolmaster;
Louise did the same, laughing heartily at Monsieur Gérondif’s nose; and
the two children ran from the room, to return to the garden and eat more
plums.
The others deemed it best to let them go, and Jasmin asked Monsieur
Gérondif, with a respectful air, if he were willing to give lessons to
his young master, who had learned nothing as yet, and to whom it was
high time that some attention should be paid if they wished him to have
any education.
Monsieur Gérondif received the proposal with delight; he shook Jasmin’s
hand warmly and said:
“Trust me, we will make up for lost time. I will make the young marquis
work like a horse.”
“Oh, no!” cried the old servant, “my young master is very delicate; he
isn’t used to studying and you will make him ill; you must go gently
with him.”
“Of course, of course!” replied Gérondif, scratching his nose. “When I
say like a horse, I use a figure of speech--a metaphor, if you prefer;
we will go _piano et sano--ecce rem!_ In addition to writing and
mathematics, I will teach monsieur le marquis his own language, root and
branch, so that he may speak it as I do; that is to say, with elegance;
also Latin, Greek, Italian, philosophy, history, ancient and modern,
mythology, rhetoric, the art of versification, geography, astronomy, a
little physics, and chemistry, and mineralogy, and----”
“Oh! that is enough, monsieur le professeur!” cried Jasmin, bewildered
by all that he heard, and aghast with admiration at Monsieur Gérondif’s
learning. “When my young master knows all those things, he will be quite
learned enough.”
“If you wish for anything more, you have only to speak; I venture to say
that so far as learning is concerned, I am a well, a genuine well. At
the age of five, I took a prize for memory, and at seven I had three
wreaths on my head, wreaths of oak, like the Druids, ancient priests of
Gaul, who worshipped Teutates, or Mercury, and the mistletoe, a parasite
which, according to them, cured all diseases. I don’t agree with them,
for I have corns which pain me terribly; I put mistletoe on them, and
they hurt me worse than ever.”
Jasmin dared not breathe while Monsieur Gérondif was speaking; the nurse
and her husband shared his admiration, and the schoolmaster, well
pleased with the effect that he had produced, was listening to himself
with much complaisance when the old servant interrupted him to say:
“A thousand pardons, monsieur, if I venture to slip in a word, but it
seems to me necessary to agree upon terms; how much will you take a
month to teach my young master all these things, it being understood
that you will come every day except Sunday?”
Monsieur Gérondif reflected a few moments, and replied at last in a
hesitating manner:
“For imparting to Monsieur de Grandvilain as much knowledge as it is
possible for me to impart, it seems to me that if I charge you fifteen
francs a month I----”
“Fifteen francs!” cried Jasmin in a tone of disgust; “fifteen francs for
all that; why, you must be joking, monsieur.”
Monsieur Gérondif ceased to smile; he lowered his eyes and muttered:
“Well, then, if you think that is too much, we will reduce the amount
and----”
“Think that it’s too much!” replied Jasmin; “on the contrary, monsieur,
I think that it isn’t enough! Thank heaven, my young master is rich, he
is able to pay those who give him lessons. What! I, a valet de chambre,
earn six hundred francs a year, with board and lodging, while a man as
learned as you, who is going to teach my master so many fine things,
receives less than that! Oh, no! I offer you a hundred and fifty francs
a month, monsieur, and I consider it none too much for all that you
know.”
“A hundred and fifty francs--a month!” cried Monsieur Gérondif, whose
features expressed indescribable bliss. “A hundred and fifty francs! I
accept, Monsieur Jasmin, I accept with gratitude, and I will prove
myself worthy. I will pass almost the whole day with my pupil--my school
will not prevent, for I have a sub-master, to whom I pay three francs a
month; I will increase his salary if necessary, and at need I will give
up my school entirely, to devote my whole time to the interesting child
whom you entrust to me.”
The schoolmaster seized Jasmin’s hands and shook them effusively; then
he shook hands with Jacquinot, then with Nicole, and finally, finding no
more hands to shake, he began to clap his own, crying:
“Hosanna! Hosanna! _applaudite cives!_”
Jasmin whispered to Jacquinot:
“I think that Monsieur Gérondif said: ‘Apportez du civet.’ Bring some
jugged hare.”
“We haven’t got any jugged hare,” replied Jacquinot, “but we’ve got some
of our wine to drink, and the schoolmaster will drink with us, I know.”
Nicole brought wine and glasses. Monsieur Gérondif gladly accepted the
invitation to drink, but he asked the nurse for a crust of bread,
because, as he had not had time to have his potatoes baked, he was
conscious of a void in his stomach. Nicole fetched what provisions she
had and placed them on the table, whereupon Monsieur Gérondif began by
cutting an enormous slice of bread, then attacked a dish of beef and
beans with a vehemence in which there was something appalling.
But while eating, the schoolmaster found time to talk; he said to
Jasmin:
“We have talked about knowledge, but there is another subject upon which
we have not touched,--I mean morals. In that matter too you may rely
upon me. I am extremely rigid upon that point; for you see, Monsieur
Jasmin, morals are the curb of society. I venture to say that mine are
beyond reproach, and I propose that it shall be the same with my pupil.”
“Oh! as for that,” said the old servant with a smile, “it seems to me
that we have no reason to fear as yet, considering my young master’s
age. Later perhaps! for look you, a young man is not a girl!”
“He’s much worse, Monsieur Jasmin, much more dangerous! Because the
young man, being more free, can do more wrong things. But I will
inculcate in him principles which will keep him in the right path; I
will be the Mentor of this Telemachus!--But I beg pardon, it just occurs
to me that in order to begin monsieur le marquis’s studies, I shall have
to buy some elementary books, grammars and dictionaries; those that I
use in my school are worn out, and I believe that I have not enough
money at this moment to make these purchases. If Monsieur Jasmin could
pay me a month’s salary in advance, why then----”
“With pleasure, Monsieur Gérondif; I always bring money when I come
here, in case my master should ask me for some. See, here are a hundred
and twenty francs in gold, and thirty in five-franc pieces.”
The schoolmaster gazed with a covetous eye at the money which was
counted out to him. He took it, and counted and recounted it several
times; he put it in his pocket, then took it out to count it once more.
He did not tire of handling that gold and silver, for never before had
he been in possession of so large a sum. They spoke to him, he did not
hear, he did not answer, but he jingled his gold pieces and his silver
pieces, and after he had finally placed them in a pocket of his
trousers, he put his hand over them and kept it there all the time.
Meanwhile, as it was late, Jasmin, having taken leave of his master and
received from him renewed promises that he would study, returned to the
carriage which had brought him thither and drove back to Paris,
delighted that he had found a way to make a scholar of Chérubin.
As for Monsieur Gérondif, having saluted his future pupil and informed
him that he would come on the morrow, he left the nurse’s house, and
went home, still keeping his hand in his pocket and jingling the money
which was there.