A STORY OF A WOODEN HORSE.
CHAPTER II.
A SPOILT CHILD.—JEANNE.—MAURICE MAKES COMPARISONS.
A Sister of Mr. de Roisel was married to a gentleman named Hector de Malassise, and they had an only child, a son, of about the same age as Maurice. They lived in the neighbourhood of Fontainebleau, where Mr. de Malassise had an estate. The two families, living so far apart, were accustomed to pay long visits, which generally lasted some weeks, at each others’ houses.
Soon after Fritz had made a present of the wooden horse to Maurice, it was arranged that the family of de Roisel should pay a visit to their relations at Malassise. Now Maurice, to tell the truth, did not look forward with pleasure to this visit; for Eusèbe—that was the name of his cousin—had a very bad temper, and my little friend found it very difficult to get on with him. This boy was thoroughly spoiled, and made everyone about him miserable by his caprices and his tyranny. His papa and mamma did not dare to punish, or even to scold him, for they had got an idea into their heads that, if he was thwarted or contradicted, it might bring on a nervous illness.
A country doctor being one day at the house of Mr. de Malassise, when Eusèbe was teasing his father to give him something he ought not to have, had carelessly said,—“Oh, pray let him have it, or he’ll worry himself into a nervous fever.” The doctor afterwards in vain assured the parents that he had not made the remark at all seriously; he could not remove the impression his words had produced. The parental hearts had taken alarm, and from that day the father and mother were always in fear lest their dear boy should be put out, or anything should make him angry. His wishes became laws for the whole household: at his slightest frown every one about him trembled, as it is said the gods on Mount Olympus trembled at the frown of Jupiter;—and he was a pagan deity who, I assure you, was not wanting in caprices.
A GOAT-CHAISE IN THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES.
While his papa and mamma were waiting in trembling anxiety for this attack of nerves, which never came, Eusèbe, in spite of his bad temper, enjoyed excellent health; and ate, drank, and slept, as well as possible. They were in fact the only things he did do well.
Eusèbe always had beautiful toys, and he delighted in showing them to Maurice with an air of superiority that was humiliating to his little cousin, whose toys were common and cheap. It was only natural that the latter should have some wish to retaliate, and hearing that they were going to Malassise, he thought what a pleasure it would be to take Cressida with him. Eusèbe could not have a toy-horse like that. Mr. de Roisel, however, put a stop to this project; because, as he said, if Eusèbe should take a fancy to the horse, Maurice would be expected to give it up to him; and that would not do at all. Maurice saw that his papa was right.
I need hardly say that Eusèbe always got tired of his toys very soon, and every time Maurice went to stay with him there was a new collection to be seen. On the occasion of this visit, Maurice found that Eusèbe’s favourite plaything for the moment was a goat. Not a goat of wood or pasteboard, such as you children have all possessed perhaps, but a real live one; as much alive as those you may see any day harnessed in goat-chaises in the Champs-Elysées at Paris; only she was prettier than any I have seen there.
The goat was called Jeanne, as I daresay some of my little readers are called, but they need not be ashamed of their namesake. She was a well-behaved, graceful creature, and her long silky coat, which was perfectly white, shone in the sunshine like silver. She had no horns, it is true, but this was scarcely to be regretted, for the most gentle animals are apt sometimes to use their horns against their friends. So Eusèbe had nothing to fear on this account. She wore round her neck a red collar, on which her name was embroidered in letters of gold. Eusèbe would tie a string through this collar, and lead her three or four times a day into a meadow near the house, where she nibbled the grass and flowers.
I cannot describe to you the delight with which Maurice watched Jeanne jumping about, or playing with her two little kids; and all with an ease such as nature alone can give. He could not help making a comparison between her and Cressida. Then he looked into her soft dark eyes, which appeared to express thoughts: Cressida had fine dark eyes too, but somehow they were not the same thing. Jeanne liked to climb on to high banks, and would stand sometimes on the edge of a precipice, stretching out her neck to eat the leaves of some tree: Cressida was strong upon the legs too, and its knees had never been marked by a fall; still it could not have done so much. Out in the fields Jeanne seemed to listen to distant noises, which you scarcely heard; her little ears kept moving about in all directions as if to let no sound escape her: Cressida had also pretty little ears, but somehow the wooden horse never seemed to listen as Jeanne did.
SOON SHE BECAME FAMILIAR WITH MAURICE, AND LET HIM CARESS HER.
Very soon Jeanne became familiar with Maurice, and let him caress her; while, by way of thanking him, she would lick his hands: Cressida had never made such advances as this to its young master. Yet another advantage had Jeanne over the horse: when she had been running, her sides moved up and down; you could see that a heart was beating in her breast: but Cressida’s sides, beautiful and glossy as they were, never heaved after a gallop. Maurice was making these comparisons during a whole day, and in the evening was so occupied with his reflections, that instead of playing at dominoes with Eusèbe, he sat silent by the side of his mamma.
The next morning he talked a great deal in praise of Cressida, but did not cease to caress and play with Jeanne. While he was stroking her, Eusèbe suddenly said to him:—“I am beginning to get tired of Jeanne; if you like, we’ll make an exchange.”
“What do you mean?” asked Maurice.
“You shall give me Cressida; I should like to make his acquaintance very much; and then in exchange I’ll give you this goat, that you think so pretty.”
“No, I cannot give you Cressida.”
“Can’t give me Cressida! why not?”
“I can never part with Cressida.”
“You mean,” rejoined Eusèbe, “that you don’t think Jeanne is worth so much as the horse. Then the fact is that you don’t think her so pretty after all; and you’ve been telling lies in calling her pretty all this time.”
“Telling lies?”
“Yes, you have. She’s ugly in reality; she is; I think she’s frightful now. Oh, you ugly beast, I’ll kill you! There, there, there’s something for you to punish you for being so ugly.”
And he gave the poor goat several cuts on the head with a whip.
“Eusèbe,” cried my little friend, “how can you be so cruel?”
Maurice saw the tears trickling from the eyes of Jeanne, and pointed them out to Eusèbe, who only shrugged his shoulders. He was not in the least ashamed of himself, and added,—
“If you don’t like me to hit her, give me your famous horse in exchange; that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I cannot, because I’ve promised not to part with it.”
“Oh, you’ve made a promise, have you? What does that matter? Why, I make promises every evening, and break them every morning.”
“What do you say?” exclaimed Maurice.
“Why, of course, every evening mamma says to me, ‘My pretty Eusèbe, my little treasure, promise me now that you won’t put yourself into passions, nor disobey me any more; promise me that, dear, and here are some bonbons for you, and some chocolate à la crème.’ I promise of course, naturally. Afterwards, in the morning, when I want some more, she refuses, because, she says, I ought not to eat them before breakfast; but I put myself into such a terrible passion that she gives me them directly. That’s how it is, you see.”
“You are very wrong to behave in that way,” said Maurice: “but after all, your promises are not made quite seriously.”
“And what are yours, pray?”
“Mine are serious promises, and I keep them.”
“Now, that’s just because you’ve heard that men keep their promises,” replied Eusèbe, “and you want to be like a man. But the truth is, men are like me, I can tell you: they make promises to get what they want, and then they break them again to get what they want. It’s all very fine for them to say to us children—‘Don’t tell lies, be always just, keep your promises!’ Oh, I’m not to be taken in; I know all about it.”
Now, my little readers, I do not say to you that the world is peopled with only honest men: that would be deceiving you. But be assured that those who tell falsehoods are everywhere despised; and when anyone speaks of them, or writes about them, it is in order to show how much they ought to be hated.
“Yes,” added Eusèbe, “you make a fine mistake when you think you are obliged to keep the horse because you made a promise.”
“That’s your opinion, but I know the contrary,” said Maurice. “Don’t let us talk any more about it.”
“Well, you won’t have Jeanne, you know.”
The next day the vintage began in the vineyards of Mr. de Malassise. Eusèbe was so much amused with all the bustle, and the coming and going of so many grape-pickers, that he had no time to think of Jeanne. This lasted three or four days, and the poor beast began to think she was free from her tormentor altogether: but no such luck for her! After that time, Eusèbe, already tired of the vintage, and particularly of the grape-pickers, who would not let him beat them, came back to make a victim of her. Maurice reasoned with him, and tried in vain to soften him.
“Very well then,“ said Eusèbe, “if you pity her so much, take her and give me your horse. Unless you do, she belongs to me, and I can do what I like with her—sell her, beat her, or kill her.”
“But your papa wouldn’t let you.”
“Oh, wouldn’t he indeed! He’d be nicely punished if he interfered.”
“I should like to know how?”
“Why, I’d have a nervous attack directly.”
Maurice was very unhappy. Do what he would to persuade himself to the contrary, he recognised the superiority of Jeanne over Cressida. He would willingly have made the exchange, but that he remembered the solemn way in which Fritz asked him to promise that he would never part with the little horse; and child though he was, he knew he was bound to keep his promise. Still, a struggle was going on in his own mind. He felt drawn towards Jeanne, as it is said little birds are sometimes fascinated and attracted by the gaze of certain snakes. At last he adopted a bold resolution: he went to his father, and said:
“My dear papa, I want to go away from here.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” said his father. “What has happened? Have you quarrelled with Eusèbe?”
“Not exactly,” rejoined Maurice, “I generally give way to him; but now he wants me to give him Cressida in exchange for Jeanne.”
“Who is Jeanne?”
“It is a beautiful white goat, who has two pretty little kids; and Eusèbe beats her because he wants me to take her and give him Cressida; but Fritz told me never to part with the wooden horse. You see, papa, Jeanne is not made of wood; she lives and feels like me, and it’s terrible to see lately how he beats her. You can’t imagine how nice she is; and so grateful to any one who is kind to her. Then to see how she loves her little children!”
“Well, well, if that’s the case we must not leave her with Eusèbe any longer. Tell him I’ll make him—a present of something much more valuable in exchange for her.”
“Oh, but I know he won’t give her for anything but Cressida.”
“Why, he must be a little monster. Don’t be unhappy, my child: tomorrow morning we will leave Malassise, so you shall see no more of his cruelty, at all events.”
Once more at home, Maurice did not long remain unhappy about Jeanne. Do not accuse him of caprice, my little readers; but think how quickly your own impressions pass away or change. It is natural to childhood that it should be so.
(To be continued.)
PUZZLE-PAGE.
Here are six objects in this puzzle for you to find out. One object begins with A, one with B, one with C, one with D, one with F, and one with P.
