Pepsie was teaching her to read and sew, and Mam’selle Diane was drilling her in scales,—although at times Madame d’Hautreve grumbled and quavered about the noise, and declared that the child was too young; for, stretch them all she could, her tiny fingers would not reach an octave.
And then there were the dancing lessons, which were always a pleasure, and a constant source of amusement in which Pepsie and Tite Souris shared; Pepsie as an enraptured spectator, and Tite Souris by personating Mr. Gex in Lady Jane’s frequent rehearsals; and even Tony had caught the spirit of Terpsichore, and under Lady Jane’s constant instruction had learned to take steps, to mince and hop and pirouette, if not as correctly, at least as gracefully as the ancient Professor Gex.
Tite Souris had happened to pass Gex’s little shop one day while Lady Jane was taking her lesson, and from that moment the humorous darky could never speak of the little dancing-master without loud explosions of laughter. “Oh Lor’, Miss Peps’, I wish you jes’ done seed littl’ Mars Gex, a-stanin’ up wid he toes turn out so he look lak he o’ny got one foot, an’ he ap’on roll up un’er he arms, an’ he hands jes’ so,”—here Tite caught the sides of her scant skirt, displaying two enormous feet and a pair of thin black legs—“a-steppin’, an’ a-hoppin’ an’ a-whirlin’ an’ a-smilin’ wid he eyes shet, jes’ as if he done got religion, an’ was so happy he doan’ know what’er do. An’ Miss Lady, wid ’er head on one side, lak a morkin bird, a-holdin’ out ’er littl’ skirt, an’ a-steppin’, an’ a-prancin’, for all de worl’ jes’ lak Mars Gex, an’ a-puttin’ ’er han’ on ’er bre’s’, an’ a-bowin’ so er yaller har all-a-mos’ tech der flo’. Lor’, Lor’, I done mos’ die a-larfin’. Such cuttin’s up yer nebber did see! It’s might’ funny, Miss Peps’, all dis yer dancin’ an’ a-caperin’, but I’se scared ’bout Miss Lady wid all dem goin’s on. I’m feared der gobble-uns’ll ketch ’er sum time, w’en ’ers a-steppin’ an’ a-hoppin’, an’ tote ’er off ter dat dar ole wicked devil, wat’s watchin’ fer triflin’ chil’ren lak dat, ’cause Deacon Jone say, der devil’ll git all pussuns wat dance, shore, shore.”
“Nonsense, Tite, go away!” cried Pepsie, laughing till the tears came at her handmaid’s droll pantomime. “If what you say is true, where do you think you’ll go to? Haven’t you been acting Mr. Gex for Miss Lady, over and over, when she’s been repeating her dancing-lesson to me? Haven’t you been standing right up on that floor, holding out your skirt, and dancing back and forth, and whirling, and prancing, as much like Mr. Gex as you possibly could? Haven’t you now, Tite? And I’m sure the ‘gobble-uns’ would take an ugly black thing like you before they would a little angel like Miss Lady.”
“But I war jes’ a-funnin’, Miss Peps’. Date ole devil know I war jes’ a-funnin’; an’ he ain’t gwine ter tote me off w’en I ain’t done no harm; ’t ain’t lak I war in earnest, yer know, Miss Peps’.” And with this nice distinction Tite comforted herself and went on her way rejoicing.
About this time Madame Jozain was seized with a sudden spasm of piety and took to going to church again. However, she kept at a discreet distance from Father Ducros, who, at the time of the death of the young widow, had asked her some rather searching questions, and several times when he met her afterwards remarked that she seemed to have given up church-going. She was very glad, therefore, when about this time she heard that he had been sent to Cuba on a mission, which Madame hoped would detain him there always. One Sunday it occurred to her that she ought to take Lady Jane to church with her, and not allow her to grow up like a heathen; and besides, the child dressed in her best had such an air of distinction that she would add greatly to the elegant appearance Madame desired to make.
Pepsie had a knack of dressing Lady Jane as Madame never could; so the little girl was sent across the street to be made beautiful, with flowing glossy hair and dainty raiment. And when Madame, dressed in one of the young widow’s elegant mourning suits, somewhat changed to better suit her age and position, leading Lady Jane by the hand with a gentle maternal air, limped slowly up the broad aisle of the Cathedral, she felt perfectly satisfied with herself and her surroundings.
Lady Jane had never been in a church before, and the immense interior, the grand, solemn notes of the organ, and the heavenly music of the choir made a deep and lasting impression upon her, and opened up to her new vistas of life through which her pure little soul longed to stray.
The musical nature is often a religious nature, and in the child was a deep vein of piety, which only needed working to produce the richest results; therefore, the greatest of all her pleasures from that time was to go to church and listen to the music, and afterwards to tell Pepsie of all she had seen and enjoyed, and to repeat, as far as it was possible with her small, sweet voice, the heavenly strains of the anthems she had heard.