THE RENT.
Aloïse had for some time been very uneasy. Janette, the woman who used to bring her every other day a bunch of fresh chickweed for her bird, had not been near her for a whole week, and each time she thought of it, she said to her nurse, "I am sure my poor little Kiss will be ill, for want of some chickweed, for there is no shade in his cage when he is at the window, and the sun is shining over his head." And Aloïse actually feared that her bird would receive a coup de soleil. This fear, indeed, did not often occupy her thoughts, only whenever she went to talk to Kiss, she would say, "This naughty Janette, will she never come?"
Janette arrived at last, and Aloïse, when she saw her, gave her a good scolding, and hastily seizing a bunch of chickweed, and without giving herself the time to unfasten it, she tore a handful, and carried it to her bird, saying, "Poor Kiss! the sun is dreadfully hot!"
"Oh yes! Miss," said Janette, "it is indeed very hot, especially when one has just recovered from a fever."
"Have you had a fever?" asked Aloïse, whose whole attention was now turned to Janette, and whom, indeed, she perceived to be very much altered. Janette told her that her illness had been caused by grief, for her rent was due, and she was unable to pay it, and her landlord had threatened to turn her and her three children out of doors, and take away her bed, which was all she possessed in the world.
"What," said Aloïse, "have you no chairs?"
Janette replied that she had had two wooden stools and a table, but that during the winter before last, which was that of 1789, she had been forced to burn them, for the cold was so intense, that one morning she found one of her children almost dead. A short time previously, she had lost her husband, after a long illness, which had exhausted all their resources, so that this was the third quarter's rent which she had been unable to pay. Her landlord had given her some further indulgence, but now told her, that if she did not pay by the next quarter, both she and her children should be turned into the street. "And well will it be for us," continued Janette, "if we find there a little straw on which to lie down and die, for we are too miserable to be taken in by any one." Saying this, she began to cry, and Aloïse, who was extremely kind and compassionate, felt ready to cry also. She asked Janette if her rent was very high. It was six francs a quarter. Three quarters were due, a louis would, therefore, be owing in July; and this was a sum which she could not possibly hope to pay, for her only means of living was the sale of her chickweed, together with a few flowers in summer, and some baked apples in the winter, all which was scarcely sufficient to find food for her children. She added that during her illness, they must have died of hunger, had it not been for the charity of some neighbours, and that she was now hastening home in order to get them some bread, as they had eaten nothing all day. Aloïse took from her drawer forty sous, which was all that remained of her month's allowance, for as she was very careless, she was never rich. These she gave to Janette, and the nurse added twenty more, thus making in all half a crown. The nurse also gave her, for the children, some old shoes which Aloïse had cast aside, and poor Janette went away delighted, forgetting for the time her unhappy condition, for the poor sometimes endure such pressing hardships, that when they find themselves for a moment freed from them, the happiness which they experience prevents them from thinking of the misery which awaits them.
After Janette's departure, Aloïse and her nurse continued talking of her for a long time. Aloïse would gladly have saved from her allowance eight francs a month, in order to make up the louis required by Janette, but this was impossible; she had lost her new gloves, and was obliged to buy others; a new pair of prunella shoes was to be brought home to her on the first of the month, to replace those she had spoiled by imprudently walking in the mud; besides, her thimble, her needles, her scissors, her thread, all of which she was constantly losing through her want of order, formed a source of considerable expense. Although she was eleven years of age, nothing had been able to cure her of this want of order, a defect which resulted from great vivacity, and from the fact, that when once an idea had taken possession of her mind, it so completely engrossed it that, for the moment, it was impossible for her to think of anything else. At present, it was Janette who occupied her thoughts. She would have been delighted to have had a louis to give her by the time her rent became due, but she did not dare to ask her parents for it, for she saw that, without being in any way embarrassed, they nevertheless lived with a certain degree of economy; besides, she knew them to be so kind, that if they could do anything, they would do it without being asked. When she went down to her mother's room, she spoke of Janette, of her grief for her, and of her desire to assist her. Twenty times she went over her calculations aloud, in order to let it be understood that she could not do so out of her allowance. Twenty times she repeated, "This poor Janette says that she must die upon straw, if she cannot pay her rent." Her mother, Madame d'Auvray, was writing, and her father was occupied in looking over some prints; neither of them appeared to hear her. Aloïse was in despair, for when she once wished for anything, she had no rest until she had either obtained it, or forgotten it. She was told that her drawing-master was waiting for her. Quite taken up with Janette and her grief, she left, as was almost invariably the case with her, her work upon the chair, her pincushion under it, her thimble on the table, and her scissors on the ground. Her mother called her back.
"Aloïse," said she, "will you never put away your work of your own accord, and without my being obliged to remind you of it?" Aloïse replied mournfully that she was thinking of something else.
"Of Janette, was it not?" said her father. "Well, then, since you are so anxious to get her out of trouble, let us make a bargain. Whenever you put away your work without being reminded of it by your mother, I will give you ten sous; in forty-eight days, therefore, you will be able to gain the louis, which will not be required by Janette for three months."
Oh! how delighted was Aloïse. She threw herself into her father's arms; her heart was freed from a heavy load.
"But," said M. d'Auvray, "in order that the agreement may be equal, it is necessary that you should pay something whenever you fail. It would be just to demand from you ten sous, but," added he, smiling, "I do not wish to make too hard a bargain for poor Janette; I will, therefore, only require of you five sous; but mind, I shall show no mercy, and you must not expect a fraction of the louis, unless you gain the whole. Here it is," said he, as he took it out of his pocket and placed it in a drawer of Madame d'Auvray's secretary; "now try to gain it."
Aloïse promised that it should be hers; her parents seemed to doubt it. It was, however, agreed, that Madame d'Auvray and Aloïse should each keep an account, in order to secure accuracy. And Aloïse was so pleased, and so eager to communicate the arrangement to her nurse, that she ran out of the room without putting away her work. Fortunately, she remembered it at the door; she ran back again, seized upon it, and beheld her father laughing heartily. "At all events," she exclaimed, "mamma did not remind me of it," and for once the excuse was admitted.
For some time Aloïse was very exact, and the more so as she had related the affair to Janette, who without daring to remind her of it, now and then dropped a word concerning her landlord, who was a very severe man. During a whole month the work had only been forgotten six times; thus, in twenty-four days, Aloïse had gained her ten sous, but as there were six days of negligence, during each of which she had lost five sous, there remained six times five, or three times ten sous, to be deducted from what she had gained; she had, therefore, secured but twenty-one, out of the forty-eight days.
But Aloïse did not reckon in this manner. As her carelessness extended to everything, she sometimes forgot that on the six days on which she had not put away her work, she had not gained her ten sous; at other times she forgot that on these days she had lost five also, so that she never considered that she had lost more than five or ten sous, on those days on which her negligence had really made her lose fifteen. At the end of the month, her mother had the greatest difficulty in the world to make her understand this calculation, and when she did understand it, she forgot it again. She had begun to keep her account in writing, and then had neglected it; she begged her mother to let her examine hers; she did so, at the same time warning her that it was for the last time. Aloïse recommenced writing, but lost her paper; she then tried to reckon mentally, but got confused in her calculations. Unfortunately, also, the hour for her dancing lesson, which she took in her mother's apartment, was changed, and now fell at the time that Janette called; she therefore saw her less frequently, and began to forget her a little: nevertheless the orderly habits which she had begun to contract were tolerably well kept up. She often put her work away, but she also frequently neglected it: still it seemed to her that she had attended to it so many times, that she felt quite easy on the subject, and did not even think of examining the day of the month.
One morning she rose extremely happy; she was going to spend a day in the country. The party had been long arranged, and Aloïse had drawn a brilliant picture of the pleasure which she anticipated from it. The weather, too, was delightful. She had just finished dressing, when a man came to her room in the garb of a workman; he wore a leathern apron and a woollen cap, which he scarcely raised as he entered. He appeared very much out of humour, and said in a rough manner to the nurse, that he had come on account of the woman who had served her with chickweed for her birds; that he was her landlord; that she owed him four quarters' rent, which she was unable to pay, and had entreated him to go and see if any one there could assist her. "It is not my business," he added in a surly tone, "to go about begging for my rent. However, I was willing to see if anything was to be got. If not, let her be prepared; to-morrow, the eighth of July, she must quit. At all events, her moving will not be a very heavy one!"
Aloïse trembled in every limb, at finding herself in the same room with this terrible landlord, of whom she had so often heard Janette speak, and whose manner was not calculated to tranquillize her fears. Not daring to address him herself, she whispered to her nurse, that she would go and ask her mamma for the louis.
"But have you gained it?" said the nurse.
"Oh! certainly," said Aloïse, and yet she began to be very much afraid she had not. She drew herself in as much as possible, in order to pass between the door and the man who stood beside it, and who terrified her so much that she would not have dared to ask him to move. She ran quite flushed and breathless into her mother's room, and asked for the louis.
"But does it belong to you?" said her mother. "I do not think it does."
"Oh, mamma," replied Aloïse, turning pale, "I have put away my work more than forty-eight times."
"Yes, my child, but the days on which you have not put it away?"
"Mamma, I have put it away very often, I assure you."
"We shall see;" and Madame d'Auvray took the account from her secretary. "You have put it away sixty times," said she to her daughter.
"You see, mamma!" cried Aloïse, delighted.
"Yes, but you have neglected it thirty-one times, for the month of May has thirty-one days."
"Oh! mamma, that does not make...."
"My dear! thirty-one days, at five sous a day, make seven livres fifteen sous, which are to be deducted from the thirty francs that you have gained. Thus thirty-five sous are still wanting to complete the louis." Aloïse turned pale and clasped her hands.
"Is it possible," she said, "that for thirty-five sous...."
"My child," said her mother, "you remember your agreement with your father."
"Oh! mamma! for thirty-five sous! and this poor Janette!"
"You knew very well what would be the consequence," said her mother; "I can do nothing in the matter."
Aloïse wept bitterly. Her father coming in, asked the reason. Madame d'Auvray told him, and Aloïse raised her hands towards him with supplicating looks.
"My child," said M. d'Auvray, "when I make a bargain I keep to it, and I require that others should act in the same manner towards me. You have not chosen to fulfil the conditions of this agreement, therefore let us say no more about it."
When M. d'Auvray had once said a thing, it was settled. Aloïse did not dare to reply, but she remained weeping. "The horses are ready," said M. d'Auvray, "we must set off; come, go and fetch your bonnet."
Aloïse then knew that all hope was lost, and she could not restrain her sobs. "Go and get your bonnet," said her father in a firmer tone, and her mother led her gently to the door. She remained outside the room, leaning against the wall, unable to move a step, and crying most bitterly. Her nurse entered softly, and asked whether she had got the money, as the man was becoming impatient. Indeed Aloïse heard him in the hall speaking to the servant, in the same surly ill-tempered tone. He said he had not time to wait; that it was very disagreeable and inconvenient to be sent there for nothing; and that Janette might rest assured she would have to be off pretty quickly. The tears of Aloïse were redoubled; her nurse endeavoured to console her, and the old servant who was passing at the moment, not knowing the cause of her grief, told her that she was going to amuse herself in the country, and would soon forget her trouble.
"To amuse myself!" cried Aloïse, "to amuse myself!" And she remembered that during this time Janette would be in despair, and turned into the street with her three children.
"Oh! dear," she exclaimed, "could they not have punished me in some other manner?"
"Listen," said her nurse, "suppose you were to ask for some other punishment?"
Aloïse turned towards her a hesitating and frightened look. She saw very well that she was going to propose to her to give up her visit to the country; and although she promised herself very little pleasure from it, she had not the courage to renounce it. But the servant came to tell her that the man was tired of waiting, and was going away. And in fact she heard him open the door, saying in a loud voice, "She shall pay for having made me come here for nothing." Aloïse with clasped hands, entreated the servant to run after him and stop him for a moment, and told her nurse to go and beg of her parents to change her punishment, and instead of it to deprive her of the pleasure of going into the country. The nurse having done so, Madame d'Auvray came out immediately and said to her daughter,
"My child, our wish is not to punish you, but to fix in your mind something of consequence which we have not yet succeeded in impressing on it. Do you think the regret you will feel in not going into the country with us, will have sufficient effect upon you, to make you remember to be a little more orderly in what you do?"
"Oh! mamma," said Aloïse, "I do assure you that the grief I have had, and that which I shall still have," she added, redoubling her tears, "in not going into the country, will make me well remember it."
"Very well, then," said Madame d'Auvray, and she gave her the louis, which Aloïse charged her nurse to carry to the man. As for herself, she remained leaning against the door, through which her mother had returned into her room. Her nurse, having ordered the kitchen-maid to follow the man, and carry the louis to Janette, found her there still crying; and told her that as she had taken her course, she ought to show more courage, and dry up her tears, and go and bid farewell to her parents, who would otherwise think she was sulking, which would not be proper. Aloïse dried her eyes, and endeavouring to restrain herself, entered the room. As she approached her father, in order to kiss him, he took her on his knee, and said, "My dear Aloïse, is there no way of engraving still more deeply on your memory, that which you ought not to forget?" Aloïse looked at him. "Would it not be," he continued, "by taking you with us into the country, relying upon the promise which you will give us never again to forget to put your work away?"
"Never!" said Aloïse, with an agitated look; "but if I should forget it on some occasion?"
"I am sure that you will not do so," replied her mother; "your promise, the recollection of our indulgence, all this will force you to remember it."
"But, oh dear! oh dear! if after all I were to forget it!"
"Well," said her father, kissing her, "we wish to force you to remember it."
Aloïse was greatly affected by all this kindness; but she felt tormented by the fear of not keeping the promise on which her parents relied; and whilst her nurse, who had heard what was said, ran joyfully to fetch her bonnet, she remained pensive, leaning against the window. At length, turning eagerly to her mother, "Mamma," she said, "I will beg of God every day in my prayers to give me grace to keep my promise."
"That will be an excellent means," replied her mother, "make use of it at once;" and Aloïse raised her eyes to heaven and her heart to God, and felt encouraged. Nevertheless she preserved throughout the day, amidst the amusements of the country, something of the emotions which had agitated her in the morning. At night she did not forget to renew her prayer; the next morning she thought of it on waking, and in order not to forget it, she imposed upon herself the rule of attending to it before she did anything else. She succeeded, by this means, in impressing upon her mind the duty prescribed to her. Once only, did she seem on the point of going away without arranging her work.
"Aloïse," said her mother, "have you said your prayers this morning?"
This question reminded her both of her prayer, which, indeed, for some time past, she had said with less attention, as she now thought herself secure, and also of her promise, which she had run the risk of forgetting; and she was so much terrified that she never again fell into the same danger. One day when her mother was speaking to her about the manner in which she had corrected herself, she said timidly, "But, mamma, in order to correct me, you surely would not have had the heart to allow poor Janette to be turned out of doors?"
Her mother smiled and said, "You must at all events allow that you are at present very happy for having been afraid of this." Aloïse assented. The louis d'or had enabled her to acquire a good habit, from which she derived more advantages than she had at first expected; for the money which she saved, by not having constantly to replace things lost through carelessness, gave her the means of doing something additional for Janette, for whom also work was found, as well as various little commissions, so that she and her children were no longer in danger of dying of hunger, or of being turned out of their miserable garret.
Here M. de Cideville, being obliged to go out, interrupted his narrative, deferring its continuation to another day.