"Oh, madame," said Sophie, heedlessly, "my cousin helped me, and we got up very early."
This cousin was Justine. Madame de Serres blushed still more, and Madame de Ligneville did the same; but every one else felt disposed to laugh. Emmeline perceived this, and from that moment her cousin appeared to her as ridiculous as she was in reality. All insisted that Madame de Ligneville should wear her dress; Emmeline, consequently, wore hers also; and as Madame de Ligneville pretended to be her elder sister, they passed the day together. This was very gratifying to Madame d'Altier, as Madame de Ligneville was an extremely sensible woman, and Emmeline found her so kind and so charming, that she became very much attached to her. Two or three times Madame de Ligneville remarked, as she looked at her dress, "There really is a great deal of work in it; that poor Sophie must have laboured very hard." And Emmeline, because she was pleased with her, considered as very charming what a short time previously she would have regarded as beneath her dignity; and she also felt that it might be very gratifying to receive such proofs of affection. She enjoyed the fête very much. However, the heat of the weather, and the fatigue she had undergone, brought on, after her return, a slight illness, which confined her for some time to her bed. One day during her indisposition, she heard Geneviève, who had paid great attention to her, say, "I must take care of her, poor little thing, though I am quite sure that when she gets well she will vex me very much." She felt humiliated at finding herself in need of Geneviève's generosity. During her convalescence, she also frequently required her assistance, for she was very weak, and Geneviève had to aid her in almost every movement. She was therefore obliged to lay aside some portion of her pride, and learn that the authority and dignity of one who can do nothing for herself is, after all, no very great affair. She felt that, if servants have need of masters for their support, masters, whom custom and wealth have habituated to a multitude of luxuries, have also constant need of servants, for their comfort and convenience. She likewise learned, in the end, that an industrious and honest servant can always find a master willing to pay him, whereas a master who is willing to pay, is not always sure of meeting with a servant who will serve him with zeal and affection, and consequently that it is particularly important to masters that their servants should be contented. She thus returned to her natural disposition, which was that of wishing to have every one satisfied with her, and she found that there was no other state of mind either so agreeable or so convenient as this.
JULIA;
OR THE STORY OF MADAME CROQUE-MITAINE.
Two years had elapsed since Madame de Vallonay had placed her daughter at school, in order to go and nurse her husband, who was ill at a fortified town, in which he commanded, and which was at any moment liable to attack. Circumstances having changed, M. and Madame de Vallonay returned to Paris, and brought their daughter home again. Julia was thirteen, she was sufficiently intelligent and sufficiently advanced for her age; but a child of thirteen, however advanced, cannot possibly understand all that is said by persons older than herself. She had, however, acquired a habit of regarding everything that she did not understand as ridiculous. Accustomed to the chit-chat of school-girls, who among themselves discussed, criticised, and decided upon everything, she fancied she understood a thing when once it had formed the subject of conversation at school. Thus, if any circumstance was spoken of, Julia maintained that the fact had happened differently; she was quite sure of it, for Mademoiselle Josephine had heard so in the holidays. If told that such or such a style of dress was in bad taste, "Oh, but it must be fashionable, nevertheless, for three of our young ladies have adopted it for ball dresses this winter." It was the same on more serious matters: whatever one of the elder girls related, from having heard her parents mention it, whether about peace or war, or the theatre, to which she had never been, it became a general opinion, to which neither Julia nor her companions ever thought there could be anything to oppose.
Thus, there never was a visit paid to her parents, that Julia did not exclaim, the moment the persons were gone, "Oh! mamma, what an absurd thing Monsieur or Madame So-and-so said!" Her mother permitted her to express her opinion in this manner when she was alone with her, in order to have an opportunity of proving to her, either that she did not understand what had been said, or that she did not understand what she wanted to say herself; but when there was company, she carefully watched, that her daughter did not give way to any rudeness, such as whispering, while laughing or looking at some one, making signs to a person at the other end of the room, or seeming to be unable to restrain her laughter.
Julia, who stood in awe of her mother, usually behaved pretty well in company. One day, however, when two or three of her schoolfellows had come to dine at Madame de Vallonay's, the Curé of the Vallonay estate, being in Paris on business, dined there also. He was a very worthy and sensible man, who said many excellent things, though in a rather more tedious manner than other people, while he introduced into his conversation old proverbs, very useful to remember, but which appeared to Julia excessively ridiculous, because she was unaccustomed to this style of speaking. Moreover, she had never before seen the Curé, and it was her habit always to discover something extraordinary in persons whom she saw for the first time. Her companions were as foolish as herself. Before dinner they amused themselves by mimicking the gestures of the Curé, whom they saw from an adjoining apartment, walking up and down the drawing-room with M. de Vallonay; this had put them into such a mocking humour, that during the whole of dinner, there was a constant succession of whisperings and laughings, for which they sought a thousand frivolous pretexts. Sometimes it was the dog who scratched himself in a droll manner, or who, in putting his paw upon Julia's knee to beg for something to eat, pulled her napkin, or else Emily had drunk out of her glass, or had taken her fork or her bread. Madame de Vallonay, though excessively annoyed, was nevertheless fearful of allowing her displeasure to be visible, lest the Curé should suspect its cause, but in the evening, when the company had departed, she scolded her daughter very seriously, and made her feel the rudeness, and even absurdity, of such conduct, and assured her that if such a thing occurred again, she would not allow her to associate with companions, who encouraged her in such disagreeable habits. Finally, as she was anxious to accustom her to reflect upon the motives of her actions, she asked her what there was so very remarkable in the conversation of the Curé de Vallonay.
"Oh! mamma, he said everything so oddly."