"Really, M. l'Abbé," said Helen, whom this remark embarrassed, "you can never let a minute pass without tormenting me!"
"That is to say, without admiring you. We admire others for their general conduct; we love and admire them because they have acted with propriety, during a long space of time, and on various occasions; but we must admire Mademoiselle Helen on every occasion. Every action, every thought, every movement of hers, demands an eulogium."
And the mischievous Abbé, with his eyes fixed upon Helen, and holding the candle in such a position as fully to display the sarcastic expression of his countenance, stopped at every step, and emphasized every word, prolonging as much as possible both his remarks and his journey. They did, however, at last reach the apartments of Madame d'Aubigny, and Helen was delighted to free herself from his arm, and make her escape. The Abbé's raillery greatly pained her, but still she saw beneath it so much kind feeling, that she could not be angry with him. He, on the other hand, touched by the gentleness with which she received his reproofs, and the desire she manifested to gain his esteem, felt anxious to correct her, especially as he perceived that, notwithstanding her affectation, she was really kind-hearted and sensible.
Madame d'Aubigny had an old servant who was rough and ill-tempered, although he was all day long reading moral and religious books. She had allowed him to have with him a little nephew, to whom he pretended to give a good education. This man's sole talent for teaching consisted in beating little François when he did not know his lesson in history or in the catechism; and François, to whom this plan did not impart any taste for study, never knew a word of it, and was consequently beaten every day. One morning, Helen saw him coming down stairs sobbing loudly; he had just received his usual correction, and was to receive twice as much if he did not know his lesson when his uncle, who had gone out on an errand, returned. Helen advised him to make haste and learn it; the boy said he could not.
"Come, come," said Helen, "we will learn it together, then," and she led him into the room, where she set to work so diligently to make him repeat it, that the Abbé Rivière, who came to see Madame d'Aubigny, entered without her hearing him.
"Make haste," said she to François, "so that no one may know that it was I who taught it to you."
"Ha!" said the Abbé, "I have at last caught you doing good for its own sake."
Helen blushed with pleasure; this was the first time she had ever heard him seriously praise her. But at the same moment, vanity usurped the place of the good feelings which had animated her: her manners ceased to be natural, and though she continued precisely the same occupation, it was evident that she was no longer actuated by the same motive.
"Well! well!" said the Abbé, "I am going away, resume your natural simplicity, no one is going to look at you."
In the evening, at Madame Villemontier's, Helen found an opportunity of speaking of François. The Abbé shook his head, aware of what was coming; and Helen, who had her eye upon him, understood him, and checked herself. However, her tendency got the better of her discretion, and half an hour afterwards she returned to the same subject, though in an indirect manner. The Abbé happened to be near her: "Stop, stop," said he in a whisper, touching her elbow, "I see you want me to relate it, and, indeed, it is best that I should," and hereupon he began:—