The 15th of October now arrived, which, being St. Therese’s day, was the fête of Madame M⸺, as well as the anniversary of my birth. The former circumstance it may be necessary to explain. It is customary in this country to name children after some favourite saint, to whose especial protection they may thus be supposed to be committed; and hence, when the annual fête of their patron arrives, it is made a day of congratulation to themselves.
When it happens to be the fête of the father, or mother of a family, their children prepare a nosegay, and bring it to them the first thing in the morning, presenting it with some pretty and appropriate address; after which, the day is spent in innocent pastime and amusement. But the above tokens of respect are not confined to the children; the friends, and dependants, also participate in offering them. In the present instance, I prepared my nosegay, and offered it to my fair hostess with undefinable sensations of pleasure, and of course did not allow so favourable an opportunity to pass, without adding that well-merited compliment, which politeness, and gratitude for her attentions prompted. Now Madame was a pretty little sensible woman, who knew how to receive a compliment from a gentleman, in a graceful and agreeable manner; and, I really cannot wonder that the priests should appoint so many fêtes, if they are to be attended with such agreeable circumstances to them, as I experienced on this occasion.
Soon after this, the peasantry employed on Madame M⸺’s estate, came with their nosegays, accompanied by presents of fruit, and were regaled with breakfast; the day unfortunately proved rainy, or we should have enjoyed a dance on the green. We had afterward a party to dinner; and the evening concluded with singing, and other amusements. On Madame M⸺’s brother being requested to sing he favoured us with the following, first drawing his chair close to that of Miss T⸺, to whom he appeared to address the sentiment.
J’avais juré que de l’amour
Je ne porterais plus la chaine,
Redoutant les maux qu’il entraî
Je voulais le fuir sans retour
Mais de sa puissance divine,
Tout mortel se rit vainement.
Lorsque je faisais ce serment