Little sneers like this at England, sarcasms on English prudery, English reserve, or English distrustfulness, were constantly dropping from her, and I grew up to believe that while genuine sentiment and unselfish devotion lived on one side of the Channel, a decorous hypocrisy had its home on the other.
Now she would contrast the women 'of Balzac's novels with the colder nonentities of English fiction; and now she would dwell on traits of fascination in the sex which our writers either did not know of or were afraid to touch on. “It is entirely the fault of your Englishwomen,” she would say, “that the men invariably fall victims to foreign seductions. Circe always sings with a bronchitis in the North;” and though I but dimly saw what she pointed at then, I lived to perceive her meaning more fully.
As for my father, I saw little of him, but in that little he was always kind and good-natured with me. He would quiz me about my lessons, as though I were the tutor, and Ecoles the pupil; and ask me how he got on with his Aristophanes or his Homer? He talked to me freely about the people who came to the house, and treated me almost as an equal. All this time he behaved to Madame with a reserve that was perfectly chilling, so that it was the rarest thing in the world for the three of us to be together.
“I don't think you like papa,” said I once to her, in an effusion of confidence. “I am sure you don't like him!”
“And why do you think so?” asked she, with the faintest imaginable flush on her pale cheek.
While I was puzzling myself what to answer, she said,—
“Come now, Cherubino, what you really meant to say was, I don't think papa likes you!”
Though I never could have made so rude a speech, its truth and force struck me so palpably that I could not answer.
“Well,” cried she, with a little laugh, “he is very fond of Monsieur Cleremont, and that ought always to be enough for Madame Cleremont. Do you know, Cherubino, it's the rarest thing in life for a husband and wife to be liked by the same people? There is in conjugal life some beautiful little ingredient of discord that sets the two partners to the compact at opposite poles, and gives them separate followings. I must n't distract you with the theory, I only want you to see why liking my husband is sufficient reason for not caring for me.”
Now, as I liked her exceedingly, and felt something very near to hatred for Monsieur Cleremont, I accepted all she said as incontestable truth. Still I grieved over the fact that papa was not of my own mind, and did not see her and all her fascinations as I did.