"Then we will finish the affair as soon as may be, that we may turn our faces homeward," replied my mother. "I long for the sight of green trees and running streams, and, above all, for a cup of cold water from St. Monica's well. I can see it now, bubbling up under the ruined arch," she added musingly, with that far-away look which had lately come to her eyes. "Some day, Andrew, you must restore that arch."
"I will," said Andrew, with a certain solemnity, and they were both silent a moment. Then he added, more cheerfully, "Then I will tell the good woman at our lodgings that you will return to-morrow."
"This afternoon," said my mother; and so it was settled.
I believe another reason why my mother was willing to cut her visit short was that she saw the influence my aunt and her way were beginning to have upon me. I shall never forget how she looked at me when, in some fit of impatience with my work; I gave vent to one of my aunt's modish oaths. Those of the Religion in France looked upon all such expressions with as much abhorrence as the Puritans of England or America.
"Genevieve," said she sternly, "what would your father say?"
"I did not mean anything," said I, abashed and vexed at the same time.
"And there is just the fault," returned my mother. "Against what is the commandment aimed, if not at the use of sacred names without meaning anything?"
I did not reply, of course, and I was more careful in future, but inwardly I murmured at my mother's strictness and Puritanism, as I called it. I had learned this phrase from my uncle and his friends, with whom everything serious or reverent was Puritanism.
I should have said that I went to church on Sunday with my uncle and aunt. I was quite amazed at the splendor of the church, which had recently been refitted, and delighted with the service, especially with the chanting and singing. The sermon also I thought very good, though I did not quite like the preacher's manner. But if I was pleased with the clergyman, I was horrified at the manners of the congregation. I saw the fine ladies and gentlemen bowing and curtsying to each other, whispering—nay, all but talking aloud—and passing snuff-boxes and smelling-bottles back and forth. One of the gentlemen I had seen at my aunt's the day before, bowed to me as he came in, but I looked the other way.
"What a gracey sermon—just like a Presbyterian," said my aunt, yawning, without any disguise, almost before the congregation was dismissed. "And why did you not curtsy when Mr. Butler bowed to you? Did you not see him?"