Popular Tales

by Madame Guizot

THE QUARRELS.

One day Louis entered his mother's room quite beside himself; his eyes sparkled with anger, and his whole countenance expressed the strongest resentment.

"I saw her! there is no gainsaying it, I saw her with my own eyes," cried Marianne, the cook, who rushed in after him, and who was almost as much excited as himself. "Madame Ballier attempted to give him a box on the ear," she continued; "fortunately he drew back in good time, but trust me, if he did not feel the wind of it——"

"Had it not been my grand aunt," said Louis, pacing the room with hasty strides and folded arms; "had it not been my aunt——"

"Oh, he would have strangled her for certain," rejoined Marianne; "I saw that clearly, and in my opinion she would only have had what she deserved, the horrid thing."

"Marianne!" said Madame Delong, in a severe tone, and Marianne left the room shrugging her shoulders. Then addressing her son, "Are you quite sure, Louis," she said, "that you are not in some degree to blame?" Louis continued to pace the apartment without making any reply. Madame Delong repeated the question, but Louis had not yet sufficiently recovered himself to understand exactly what his mother was saying. At this moment Madame Ballier made her appearance; she looked confused, and speaking hurriedly, like a person who is afraid of being prevented by some disagreeable speech, she said, "Louis, will you go with me to the play this evening?"

Louis started and appeared surprised; but after a moment's hesitation, he replied, in a gloomy manner, turning away his head, "No, thank you, aunt."

"There are two actors arrived from Paris," added Madame Ballier, still more embarrassed.

"I am aware of it: I saw the notice posted up as I came from the college, and they are going to perform The Templars."

"Well, will you not come?"

"No, aunt," replied Louis again, rather sharply. Excited at once by resentment and the regret of losing the play, he was about to add some angry expression, but he restrained himself, and replied in the calmest tone that he could command, "I have to work for the examination of the inspectors who are coming this day week."

"Very well, I can go by myself," said Madame Ballier, still more annoyed. She went to the window as if to look at something, and then left the room without saying another word.

"If any one else had asked me," said Louis, in a tone of vexation, as soon as she was gone, "nothing would have delighted me more. Ever since I read the announcement I have been thinking how much I should like to see The Templars; but," he added, in an altered voice, "I will not give her the pleasure of thinking she can afford me the slightest gratification."

His anger increased from the sacrifice which it had induced him to make. His mother, wishing to calm him a little, said caressingly, as she took his arm, "But you will give me the gratification, will you not, of taking a walk with me? I have a headache, and want the air;" and, seeing that he did not take any notice, she added, with a smile, "I shall not resign myself to going out without you, so readily as my aunt does."

Louis never refused his mother anything, and, although only fourteen years of age, he was so right-minded, and possessed so noble and generous a disposition, that Madame Delong treated him with entire confidence, and never, in any thing she required of him, appealed to any other motive than his own good sense and affection. Louis immediately took his hat, went to fetch his mother's parasol, and, without saying a word, offered her his arm to go out. Madame Delong saw the effort he was making to control himself, and said, "Thank you, my dear." These words began to restore peace to the soul of Louis. He was devotedly fond of his mother, and felt proud of being able to make her life more agreeable and happy. Almost always absent from her husband, and continually anxious and trembling for the dangers to which his military life exposed him, Madame Delong required the exertion of much fortitude to preserve her equanimity; and Louis, witnessing her trials, had early learned to avoid whatever might render her resignation more difficult. Very different in character from those children who imagine they obtain a species of triumph over their superiors when they have excited their displeasure, Louis took a pride in being able to ward off troubles and annoyances from his mother. It was not in a few instances, but in all cases that he was in the habit of doing this. If he gave her his arm in the street or the fields, he would avoid a rough path where she might hurt herself, lead her away from the herd of cows she did not like to venture amongst, or remove the horse she had to pass. Quick, and even thoughtless in his own case, he became prudent where his mother was concerned. Madame Delong would observe, with a smile, "Louis is my protector;" and Louis would smile also, and at the same time slightly blush, but not from annoyance; at such moments he felt himself a man, and in a position to be useful to others.

This kind of relation between Louis and his mother had not in the least diminished the respect due to her maternal authority and the superiority of her understanding. To this authority Louis submitted the more cheerfully, because the possibility of her at any time abusing it never entered his mind. He could not for a moment believe that his mother could ever be unjust or unreasonable; scarcely could he even believe that she could ever be mistaken; and if at any time he hesitated to perform his duty, the moment she said, "My dear, it must be done," Louis thought he heard the voice of his own conscience.

Nevertheless, since Madame Ballier had become an inmate of the house, Louis had more frequently experienced the difficulty of submission; and, upon certain points, all his affection for his mother was scarcely sufficient to supply what was wanting in his yet immature reason. Madame Ballier, who was formerly a mercer at Paris, had never received the advantage of a good education; she was sister to Monsieur Delong's mother, and when, at twelve years of age, he was left an orphan, she had given him a home. At fifteen he entered the army, obtained promotion by his bravery and good conduct, and neglecting no opportunity of improving himself and acquiring knowledge, he rose to the rank of colonel, and to the reputation of a distinguished man. Madame Delong, though without fortune, had been extremely well educated, and the congeniality of their minds and characters had established between them the most tender and perfect union.

When, two or three years before the time of our story, Madame Ballier, then a widow, had retired from business, in rather indifferent circumstances, Madame Delong proposed to her husband to offer her a home with them. Monsieur Delong at first hesitated, from the fear of giving his wife an associate by no means agreeable; but he soon yielded to the noble motives by which she was influenced in making this proposal, and to his conviction, that the mingled gentleness and firmness of her character would greatly diminish the inconveniences which might otherwise result from such an arrangement. Madame Ballier accordingly joined the family of her niece in the small town where the latter resided, in the absence of her husband, and where with a very moderate income she endeavoured, by strict economy, to meet the expenses occasioned by the war, and provide for the education of her son. A good-hearted woman in the main, but often weary of her position, and, notwithstanding the deference with which she was treated by Madame Delong, dissatisfied at not being the mistress, Madame Ballier was frequently out of humour, and found means of showing her temper on a thousand occasions; for persons who have no taste for serious occupation are apt to become very fanciful about trifles. The two greatest sufferers were Louis and his black wolf-dog Barogo: as for Marianne, a quarrel was not positively disagreeable to her, and it was a pleasure which Madame Ballier seldom hesitated to afford her. Madame Delong would by no means have permitted Marianne to fail in respect to her aunt, but neither did she like that Madame Ballier should uselessly torment Marianne, an old and faithful servant, who had been in the family ever since her mistress was born, and who was determined to end her days in it; both, therefore, were equally interested in keeping their quarrels secret, and thus being sure of each other, they observed no mutual consideration; and a coffee-pot placed on the fire precisely where it would most inconvenience Marianne, or removed at the very time Madame Ballier wished to have it heated; a commission given inopportunely, and received with a bad grace, and, above all, the delinquencies of Robinet, Madame Ballier's cat, who was afraid of mice and devoured every thing in the larder, kept up a fund of animosity, and underhand quarrels, which interestingly occupied one half of their lives.

But between Louis and his aunt, the game was by no means so equal.

As Madame Ballier had no authority whatever over him, she made a point of contradicting him in everything. His shoes were too tight, or his trowsers too wide; he wore his hair too short, or his sleeves too long: and as the next day neither hair, nor sleeves, nor shoes, nor trowsers, differed in any degree from what they were the night before, the remarks were repeated with as much acrimony as if Madame Ballier were herself obliged to wear the things in question. Madame Delong, perfectly mute during these disputes, in which she never took any part, was not equally reserved with her son, whom she scrupulously compelled, much against his inclination, to restrain his conduct within the bounds of proper respect; but all her authority, and her severe looks, were scarcely sufficient to effect this, when the injustice fell upon Barogo, whom Madame Ballier regularly turned out of the room, two or three times a day saying that he gave her fleas. Louis would then immediately follow, in order to be with his dear Barogo, and usually found him engaged in avenging upon Robinet the insults received from her mistress. Warned by the noise he made in pursuing her favourite, Madame Ballier would fly to the rescue; snatch up, in her alarm and anger, a broom, a pair of tongs, or whatever came to hand, as a weapon against the aggressor, and while the latter made his escape growling, Madame Ballier, drawn away by a deeper interest, ran to seek and console her cat. Then Barogo, satisfied with having proved his right of resistance, by displaying his white teeth through his black moustaches, would return and take quiet possession of the sitting-room, where he soon became the object of a fresh contest.

"Why should we be obliged to submit to my aunt's caprices and ill-humour?" Louis would sometimes exclaim in a fit of uncontrollable indignation. "Why should we be obliged to live with our relations at all?" asked Madame Delong one day in reply. "Why should we be obliged to keep up any ties of kindred? Why should not brothers and sisters, fathers and children, go each their own way, without troubling themselves about each other? If I were to become peevish, morose, and difficult to please, tell me, Louis, would you be obliged to retain any regard for me?"

"Oh! my dear mother!" cried Louis, wounded at such a supposition.

"My child," replied his mother, "when we once believe that we may quarrel with our duties, because they are difficult, there is none of them that may not be brought into question, for there is none of them, the fulfilment of which may not at some period or other occasion us some inconvenience. Do you not think a nephew owes to his aunt, and an aged aunt, respect and complaisance?"

"Undoubtedly, but—"

"But you would prefer that your aunt should be careful to render this duty more agreeable to you:—this I can conceive; yet a duty is not the less a duty because it is painful."

"I should think my aunt has duties also," said Louis, with a little asperity.

"My son," returned his mother, very seriously, "when you have found out a suitable manner of representing them to her, you will be quite justified in thinking of them."

"What is to be done, then?" Louis would sometimes exclaim, quite out of patience at seeing no means of avoiding what he knew not how to endure. One day, when the heat was extreme, and he was continually wiping his face during a discussion of this kind, his mother said to him, "Six or seven years ago, my dear, you would not have been able to bear such heat as this without repeating every moment, Oh, how hot it is! but now you scarcely pay any attention to it, because you know that it is unbecoming in a man not to show himself superior to petty inconveniences."

Louis was quite old enough to understand his mother's arguments, but he had not yet acquired sufficient resolution to submit to them. When his aunt was out of humour with him, he became angry in his turn; if she wished to subject him to some caprice of hers, he was the more obstinately bent on a contrary whim; and to make him feel it a matter of great importance that his hat should remain on the table, it was only necessary that Madame Ballier should take it into her head to throw it upon a chair.

When out of his mother's presence, and no longer restrained by her looks, which habitually followed him, and which he dared not avoid, Louis was always more disposed to forget himself, and did not often escape the danger, particularly as he was then more openly attacked by Madame Ballier, who was no longer held in check by the fear of disobliging her niece. The last quarrel had been occasioned by one of those trifles which so often occasioned them, and Louis, exasperated to the utmost by his aunt's ill-humour, and perhaps not very well disposed himself that day had taken the liberty to indulge in remarks so little measured, that the anger of Madame Ballier had gone beyond all bounds. She was sorry for it afterwards; not that she considered it anything extraordinary for an aunt to box the ears of a nephew who had spoken impertinently to her; but such things were not in accordance with the tone of the family, and although she herself constantly found fault with her niece, she would not have liked her niece to find fault with her.

She thought to repair all by the offer of taking Louis to the theatre, and could not understand his retaining so much resentment as to refuse. Consequently, she was much out of humour the whole of dinner-time, and when upon leaving the table a fresh proposal was again met by a refusal on the part of Louis, she went off shrugging her shoulders with a sigh of indignation.

She had only just left the room, when in came M. Lebeau, a friend of Madame Delong's.

"Come, come, my boy!" he said to Louis, "to the theatre:—quick! there is not a moment to lose, or we shall not find places. Charles and Eugenia are on the way with their mother; we will overtake them."

Louis and his mother looked at each other without making any reply. "Well! are you coming?" said M. Lebeau, impatiently. "I do not think that Louis can go to the play this evening," said Madame Delong, at length, looking earnestly at her son.

"And why not?"

"He has work to finish."

"I worked hard enough when I was young, and learned my profession as a notary as well as any one else, but I did not give up my amusement, for all that. Why, my lad, at your age, when I wanted to go to the play, I spent the night in work, and there was an end of it."

"That would not be very difficult," said Louis, looking at his mother, whilst his face was scarlet with anger and anxiety. Madame Delong suppressed a sigh, called forth by the sight of her son's vexation, and said to him; "You know very well, my dear, that that is not the difficulty:" then, turning to M. Lebeau, she added, in a firmer tone, "It is impossible; Louis has refused to go with his aunt."

"His aunt! his aunt! What then? He has changed his mind; surely he has a right to be more amused with my children than with his aunt. Come, come, I will undertake to make her listen to reason, though we do not generally understand one another particularly well."

Louis seemed in suspense. "M. Lebeau," said Madame Delong, very seriously; "since it must be confessed, Louis has had a slight quarrel with his aunt, and it was for that reason that he declined going with her to the theatre. I do not blame him for it, it was the most respectful manner of letting his aunt know that she had wounded his feelings; but I leave him to judge," she added, looking at Louis, "whether it be becoming in him to go and brave her as it were, and as if he said to her, 'I did not choose to accept your favours, I can dispense with them.'"

"Such punctilios are only fit for a girl," cried M. Lebeau. "My dear friend, I tell you plainly, you will make a milksop of that son of yours."

"I am not aware," said Madame Delong, still looking at her son, "that Louis feels himself any the weaker, or the less worthy of esteem, when he submits to his duty, than when he fails in it in order to follow his pleasures."

Louis shook his head; he knew very well that his mother was right; but he found it impossible to make any answer. At this moment Charles rushed into the room: quite out of patience at not seeing his friend Louis arrive, he had run to look for him. "Come, make haste!" he cried; "you will make us lose the first scene, and perhaps even our places."

Louis, with eyes cast down, pressed his hand, and not daring to trust his voice, said, in a tone scarcely audible,—"I am not going to the theatre."

"Not going! and why not?" asked Charles, much astonished.

"On account of my aunt."

Charles, in consternation, looked alternately at his father and at Madame Delong; the latter hastened to observe: "It is a voluntary sacrifice which my son makes to his sense of propriety, and one which I hope we shall be able to make up to him another time."

"Another time!" cried M. Lebeau, striking the floor with his cane; "another time! why, they are going away to-morrow; I tell you they set off to-morrow."

Louis started. Madame Delong, looking at him, sorrowfully, but firmly, said, "Is that any reason, my son?" Louis hurried out of the room; he was choking. Charles left the house in grief, and M. Lebeau, as he took his departure, repeated, "I always said so; the most sensible woman in the world knows nothing about bringing up boys."

Madame Delong immediately went to her son's room and found him leaning against the corner of the mantel-piece; his fortitude was completely overcome; the poor boy was in tears, and his mother felt much disposed to join him. As if suddenly struck with resentment upon her entrance, he exclaimed, "You wished to punish me because I dared to be angry with my aunt when she tried to box my ears;" and these last words were uttered in a still more passionate manner.

"To punish you!" said Madame Delong, putting her arm round her son's neck, "to punish you! Oh, my dear child, it is a very long time since I have even thought it possible that I could have occasion to punish you!"

The tears of Louis were now flowing abundantly. Madame Delong leant her head on his shoulder, saying, with much emotion, "My dearest child, overcome this weakness, I entreat you. What will become of me who have the responsibility of making you acquainted with your duties, if you have not resolution enough to fulfil them? How cruel will be my task, Louis! I have laboured all your life to inspire you with fortitude, in order that your courage might sustain my own."

"This disappointment cannot grieve you as much as it does me," said Louis, still a little angry, though already in some degree softened by his mother's words.

"My dear boy," replied Madame Delong, "if you were now at the theatre, I should be watching the clock, and although alone, should fear to see the hours pass, for I should say, 'he is now enjoying himself,' and that would render my whole evening delightful." Louis kissed her hand. "But," she continued, "if after having refused your aunt, you had been weak enough to accompany M. Lebeau, and I weak enough to consent to your doing so, we should both of us have had our pleasure destroyed; the sight of your aunt at the play would have disturbed you the whole time; on your return we should not have dared to converse together on what would have been a subject of self-reproach to both, and you would have gone to bed without having anything to relate to me."

Louis was insensibly calmed by the conversation and affection of his mother; nevertheless, he had some difficulty in applying steadily to anything during this evening, and he dreamed all night that he had gone to the theatre, and was wandering round and round the house without being able to find the entrance, whilst all the time the play was going on, and he could hear the applause.

Madame Ballier, on her part, had returned home much dissatisfied with the manner in which she had passed her evening. She had the misfortune to be seated in a box close to the one occupied by M. Lebeau and his family: there was already a good deal of bitterness between them, for M. Lebeau, though a good-natured and upright man, was little disposed to think that people should inconvenience themselves for the sake of others; he had never approved of Madame Delong's plan of having Madame Ballier with her, and consequently had taken an aversion to the latter almost before he had made her acquaintance. Never would he consent to show her the slightest attention calculated to attract her to his house, and as this prevented Madame Delong from visiting there as frequently as she had previously done, M. Lebeau was the more dissatisfied; and the grievances of Louis, who was a great favourite of his, and even those of Barogo, with whom he cultivated a certain degree of intimacy, did not tend to soften matters. When, upon entering the theatre, he saw Madame Ballier in the next box to that which his family had taken, he felt so annoyed that he would have changed his place had it been possible. His excitement, and the explanations given to his party in no very low tone, soon informed Madame Ballier of what had taken place, and the name of "poor Louis," which, at every pause in their pleasure, was repeated by the children in a tone of regret, and with a side glance towards her, rendered her evening extremely disagreeable. On returning home she complained of a headache, and retired to her own room without seeing any one. The next day she made no allusion whatever to the play; and if Louis was wrong in somewhat enjoying this little revenge, he was at all events justified in congratulating himself on having escaped a similar embarrassment. Two days afterwards, at the house of M. Lebeau, the latter again attacked Madame Delong on the subject of the play; Louis defended his mother with so much eagerness, that M. Lebeau, provoked at finding in him an opponent, exclaimed, "Young man! this is the way you spoil your mother." Everybody laughed, and M. Lebeau amongst the rest, while Madame Delong gave her son a smile of affectionate pride, which seemed to say, "Persevere, my dear Louis, let us continue to aid each other in fulfilling our duty."

The Curé here paused. "Is that all?" exclaimed the two little boys.

"That is not a story," said Juliana, drawing up her head with an air of pretension. "It has neither beginning nor end."

"As to the end," replied the Curé, "I have not told you that my story was ended: I wished merely to show you how very disagreeable it is for young persons when their relations happen to be bad-tempered, and at the same time to point out to you that when such is the case it is the duty of the young to make every sacrifice rather than displease their relations."

"It was not very difficult for Louis to do what his mother wished," said Juliana, in a tone which betrayed a little vexation; "she always spoke to him so gently."

"Well! that is good!" cried Amadeus. "The other day when you were in a passion, and nurse very gently begged you to listen to reason, did you not tell her to march off with her reason?"

"Mr. Amadeus," replied Juliana, colouring violently, "mind your own affairs if you please, or I shall tell, in my turn, what naughty words you made use of in the grove, when papa called you to write your exercise."

"I see," said the Curé, "that you would neither of you have been as reasonable as Louis, though he was nothing to boast of."

"Yes," observed Amadeus, "for he obeyed the wishes of his mother only when she was present."

"I don't behave like him, Monsieur le Curé," said Paul, touching the clergyman's arm to make him listen to him; "when mamma goes away and says, 'Paul, don't go near the water,' I don't go near it at all."

"I should like to know," said Juliana, "what would have happened if Louis had remained for some time tête-à-tête with his aunt?"

"That is precisely the sequel of my story," replied the Curé. The children having expressed their wish to hear this sequel, the Curé promised it, and a few days afterwards he thus resumed the adventures of Louis.