In the evening, Thérèse was sitting with the children, who were supposed to be preparing their lessons for the next day. Octavie, always upright and suggestive, was at the table, with a book open before her, on the alert, as usual, to snub Mademoiselle Veuillot or her brother, as the case might require. He was a very ugly little boy, with his baggy knickerbockers and cut-away jacket, and a closely cropped little head; but he was not so utterly detestable in Thérèse’s eyes as Octavie. With all his obstinacy and provoking ways he was not a worldly, unnatural little being like her. He had not her patronising, superior ways; he was not always watching and spying. I am telling you what Thérèse thought, and it must be remembered that she was not in a patient mood at this time: she was eating the bread of poverty, and it was made very bitter. This evening Adolphe would not attend. He jumped up and down, upset his chair, danced about the room. “Mamma thinks that Adolphe already knows less of history than when he began it with you, mademoiselle,” remarked Octavie, pleasantly.
“I know more than you!” shouted Adolphe, indignant at this report, and still careering round the table. “I know more than you, and more than mademoiselle, and more than a great many people.”
Octavie lifted her arched eyebrows.
“But yes, I do, and I could tell you about it, only I don’t choose.”
“Adolphe!” said Thérèse, sharply, “I am waiting.”
“She always thinks that mamma tells her every thing,” said Adolphe triumphantly, “but she does not. She is only a little girl, is she, mademoiselle? I know a great deal more.”
“Madame Barry never permitted Adolphe to misbehave himself, mademoiselle. It is only since you have been our governess,” said Octavie, furiously.
“She will not be our governess long,” cried Adolphe, before Thérèse could speak, “if M. Saint-Martin is come.”
“Monsieur Saint-Martin!”
All the room turned round before Thérèse; she caught at the table to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, the children were staring at her, Octavie’s sharp black eyes looking curiously, Adolphe a little frightened. Thérèse cried out in a glad tone they had never heard before from her,—