Fate might bestow riches upon Maria. Therefore they must carefully provide against her acceptance of a life of frivolity, compensated for by the giving of alms, the Mass in the morning, and the rosary at night. On several occasions Luisa had attempted to sound Franco upon the question of giving Maria's education a moral direction quite apart from the religious direction, but such attempts had never been accompanied by satisfactory results. Franco could understand an unbelief in religion, but it was quite incomprehensible to him that there were those who found religion insufficient as a rule of life. He had never for a moment believed that all should aspire to saintliness, or that those who love tarocchi, primero, hunting, fishing, nice little dinners and a bottle of fine wine, are not good Christians. And this moral direction in education as divided from the religious direction seemed to him a mere notion, because, to his thinking, all honest men who did not believe, were honest either by nature or from habit, and not from any moral or philosophical reasoning. So it was not possible for Luisa to come to an understanding with her husband on this delicate point. She must act alone and very cautiously, in order neither to offend nor to grieve him. When Franco pointed out to the child the stars and the moon, the flowers and the butterflies, as admirable works of God, using poetically religious language fit for a child of twelve, Luisa held her peace; but if, on the contrary, he chanced to say to Maria: "Mind, God does not wish you to do that!" Luisa would immediately add: "That is wicked! You must never do what is wicked!" In such cases some dissension must inevitably arise between the parents, for the moral judgment of one was not always in harmony with the moral judgment of the other. Once they were standing together at the window of the hall, while Maria played with a little girl of about her own age from Oria. A brother of the child passed, a tyrant of eight, and ordered his little sister to follow him. She refused and wept. But Maria, looking very grave, faced the tyrant with clenched fists. Franco restrained her by a sharp command; the little one turned and looked at him, and then burst into tears, while the tyrant dragged his victim away. Luisa left the window, saying in an undertone to her husband: "Excuse me, but that was not just." "Why was it not just?" said Franco, and he became heated and raised his voice, demanding whether his wife wished Maria to grow up pugilistic and violent. She answered gently and firmly, overlooking some sharp words of his, and maintaining that Maria's impulse had been good; that our first duty is to withstand tyranny and injustice; and that, though the child use his fists, the man would use more civilised weapons; but if the natural impulse of the soul be repressed in the child, there was danger of destroying the nascent sense of justice as well.
Franco would not be convinced. According to him it was very doubtful whether Maria had harboured any such heroic sentiments. She had simply been angry because she was to be deprived of her playmate, that was all. Besides, was it not a woman's place to oppose gentle meekness to injustice and tyranny, to appease and correct the offender, rather than repulse the offence by force? Luisa flushed crimson, and replied that this rôle might suit some women, perhaps the best of women, but it would certainly not suit all, for not all were so meek and humble.
"And you are of that number?"
"A fine thing to boast of!"
"Does it grieve you very much?"
"Very much indeed."
Luisa placed her hands on his shoulders. "Does it grieve you very much," said she, "that I rebel as you yourself do against the presence of these masters in our house; that I desire as you yourself do, to help, even with my hands, in driving them out? Or would you prefer to see me attempt to correct Radetzky and appease the Croatians?"
"That is a different thing."
"In what way? No, it is the same thing."