"Cosi rozzo diamante appena splende
Dalla rupe natia quand' esce fuora,
E a poco a poco lucido se rende
Sotto l'attenta che lo lavora."
Madame de Fleury joined her husband, who was in London, and they both
lived in the most retired and frugal manner. They had too much of the
pride of independence to become burthensome to their generous English
friends. Notwithstanding the variety of difficulties they had to
encounter, and the number of daily privations to which they were forced
to submit, yet they were happy--in a tranquil conscience, in their mutual
affection, and the attachment of many poor but grateful friends. A few
months after she came to England, Madame de Fleury received, by a private
hand, a packet of letters from her little pupils. Each of them, even the
youngest, who had but just begun to learn joining-hand, would write a few
lines in this packet.
In various hands, of various sizes, the changes were rung upon these
simple words:--
"MY DEAR MADAME DE FLEURY,
"I love you--I wish you were here again--I will be _very very_ good
whilst you are away. If you stay away ever so long, I shall never
forget you, nor your goodness; but I hope you will soon be able to
come back, and this is what I pray for every night. Sister Frances
says I may tell you that I am very good, and Victoire thinks so too."
This was the substance of several of their little letters. Victoire's
contained rather more information:--
"You will be glad to learn that dear Sister Frances is safe, and that
the good chestnut-woman, in whose cellar she took refuge, did not get
into any difficulty. After you were gone, M. T--- said that he did
not think it worth while to pursue her, as it was only you he wanted
to humble. Manon, who has, I do not know how, means of knowing, told
me this. Sister Frances is now with her abbess, who, as well as
everybody else that knows her, is very fond of her. What was a
convent is no longer a convent--the nuns are turned out of it. Sister
Frances' health is not so good as it used to be, though she never
complains. I am sure she suffers much; she has never been the same
person since that day when we were driven from our happy schoolroom.
It is all destroyed--the garden and everything. It is now a dismal
sight. Your absence also afflicts Sister Frances much, and she is in
great anxiety about all of us. She has the six little ones with her
every day in her own apartment, and goes on teaching them as she used
to do. We six eldest go to see her as often as we can. I should have
begun, my dear Madame de Fleury, by telling you, that, the day after
you left Paris, I went to deliver all the letters you were so very
kind to write for us in the midst of your hurry. Your friends have
been exceedingly good to us, and have got places for us all. Rose is
with Madame la Grace, your mantua-maker, who says she is more handy
and more expert at cutting out than girls she has had these three
years. Marianne is in the service of Madame de V---, who has lost a
great part of her large fortune, and cannot afford to keep her former
waiting-maid. Madame de V--- is well pleased with Marianne, and bids
me tell you that she thanks you for her. Indeed, Marianne, though she
is only fourteen, can do everything her lady wants. Susanne is with a
confectioner. She gave Sister Frances a box of _bonbons_ of her own
making this morning; and Sister Frances, who is a judge, says they are
excellent--she only wishes you could taste them. Annette and I
(thanks to your kindness!) are in the same service with Madame
Feuillot, the _brodeuse_, to whom you recommended us. She is not
discontented with our work, and, indeed, sent a very civil message
yesterday to Sister Frances on this subject; but believe it is too
flattering for me to repeat in this letter. We shall do our best to
give her satisfaction. She is glad to find that we can write
tolerably, and that we can make out bills and keep accounts, this
being particularly convenient to her at present, as the young man she
had in the shop is become an orator, and good for nothing but _la
chose publique_; her son, who could have supplied his place, is ill;
and Madame Feuillot herself, not having had, as she says, the
advantage of such a good education as we have been blessed with,
writes but badly, and knows nothing of arithmetic. Dear Madame de
Fleury, how much, how very much we are obliged to you! We feel it
every day more and more; in these times what would have become of us
if we could do nothing useful? Who would, who could be burdened with
us? Dear madame, we owe everything to you--and we can do nothing, not
the least thing for you! My mother is still in bad health, and I fear
will never recover; Babet is with her always, and Sister Frances is
very good to her. My brother Maurice is now so good a workman that he
earns a louis a week. He is very steady to his business, and never
goes to the revolutionary meetings, though once he had a great mind to
be an orator of the people, but never since the day that you explained
to him that he knew nothing about equality and the rights of men, &c.
How could I forget to tell you, that his master the smith, who was one
of your guards, and who assisted you to escape, has returned without
suspicion to his former trade? and he declares that he will never more
meddle with public affairs. I gave him the money you left with me for
him. He is very kind to my brother. Yesterday Maurice mended for
Annette's mistress the lock of an English writing-desk, and he mended
it so astonishingly well, that an English gentleman, who saw it, could
not believe the work was done by a Frenchman; so my brother was sent
for, to prove it, and they were forced to believe it. To-day he has
more work than he can finish this twelve-month--all this we owe to
you. I shall never forget the day when you promised that you would
grant my brother's wish to be apprenticed to the smith, if I was not
in a passion for a month; that cured me of being so passionate.
"Dear Madame de Fleury, I have written you too long a letter, and not
so well as I can write when I am not in a hurry; but I wanted to tell
you everything at once, because, may be, I shall not for a long time
have so safe an opportunity of sending a letter to you.
"VICTOIRE."
Several months elapsed before Madame do Fleury received another letter
from Victoire; it was short and evidently written in great distress of
mind. It contained an account of her mother's death. She was now left
at the early age of sixteen an orphan. Madame Feuillot, the _brodeuse_,
with whom she lived, added few lines to her letter, penned with
difficulty and strangely spelled, but, expressive of her being highly
pleased with both the girls recommended to her by Madame de Fleury,
especially Victoire, who she said was such a treasure to her, that she
would not part with her on any account, and should consider her as a
daughter. "I tell her not to grieve so much; for though she has lost one
mother she has gained another for herself, who will always love her; and
besides she is so useful, and in so many ways, with her pen and her
needle, in accounts, and everything that is wanted in a family or a shop;
she can never want employment or friends in the worst times, and none can
be worse than these, especially for such pretty girls as she is, who have
all their heads turned, and are taught to consider nothing a sin that
used to be sins. Many gentlemen, who come to our shop, have found out
that Victoire is very handsome, and tell her so; but she is so modest and
prudent that I am not afraid for her. I could tell you, madame, a good
anecdote on this subject, but my paper will not allow, and, besides, my
writing is so difficult."
Above a year elapsed before Madame de Fleury received another letter from
Victoire: this was in a parcel, of which an emigrant took charge; it
contained a variety of little offerings from her pupils, instances of
their ingenuity, their industry, and their affection; the last thing in
the packet was a small purse labelled in this manner--
"_Savings from our wages and earnings for her who taught us all we
know_."