Popular Tales

by Madame Guizot

No mother, indeed, could have more completely belonged to her child than Madame Leroi. She was the widow of a clerk, who had left her unprovided for while Marietta was still an infant. It had never occurred to her that she had any other object in life than to educate her daughter, to render her an estimable member of society, and to enable her to earn for herself a respectable livelihood. The education of her child was her first object, and to it she sacrificed all the advantages she might have derived from the exercise of her talents. Madame Leroi was a skilful musician; in her youth, she had been destined to teach singing and the harp, but, when eighteen years old, her chest became so much weakened in consequence of an attack of measles, that she was obliged to abandon this pursuit. She then turned her attention to painting, which was natural enough, as her father was an artist, and had given her lessons in her childhood. But not long afterwards, she lost her father, and having such limited means, she considered herself fortunate in marrying M. Leroi, a man already advanced in years, and of an eccentric character, who would, on no account, have consented that his wife should pass her time away from home in giving lessons. As his income was sufficient for their maintenance, she confined her occupations to the care of her household, and to the cultivation of her mind, the better to prepare herself for the education of any children she might be blessed with. After losing two, she gave birth to Marietta, and from that time all her affections were concentrated on this child. At the death of her husband, she found herself once more without resources, or very nearly so, for M. Leroi having had no idea of marrying until late in life, had sunk all his savings in the purchase of an annuity, and since his marriage had not been able to add anything of consequence to them. She now, therefore, had to consider whether she should not resume the pursuit for which she had been previously destined, but to do so it would be necessary to abandon Marietta to the care of strangers, to give up all thoughts of making her profit by the knowledge, the ideas, and the sentiments which she had in a manner acquired expressly for her sake, and to suffer the excellent tendencies which her maternal eye already detected, to become perverted, or at least weakened. She considered that the point of most consequence to her daughter's welfare, in the difficult path of life, which she was probably destined to tread, was to be fortified, at an early age, by the principles of a virtuous and solid education. She therefore limited the exercise of her talents to the instruction of Marietta, whose taste for music seemed to promise great success in that art. "I shall have lived for her! I shall have made her happy!" she would sometimes repeat to herself.

But meanwhile, it was necessary to live. She therefore endeavoured to discover some sedentary occupation, which would enable her to provide for their simple wants. She applied herself to tapestry, and her knowledge of painting rendered her very successful in tracing and shading every variety of design, whether of flowers, figures, or landscape. Chance favoured her in this respect; she had soon as much work as she could attend to, and was well paid for it, for her work was very superior to that of ordinary hands, and, while affording her the means of subsistence, it had the additional advantage of enabling her to attend almost without interruption to the education of her daughter. Marietta would sometimes say to her, "Mamma, when will you leave off working so much?"

"When you are able to work for me," she replied. And if Marietta happened to be in good humour, this answer made her run to her harp.

Marietta's tendencies varied within very wide limits. Though possessed of an elevated character, and great tenderness of heart, she sometimes yielded to fits of passion, and obstinacy, which rendered her a totally different being from what she ordinarily was, and made her wish to annoy her mother, as much as at other times she was anxious to please her; so that one was alternately charmed by her natural love of excellence, or indignant at her perversity. Nevertheless, by a mixture of kindness and firmness, her mother had succeeded in subduing, to a great degree, all that was harsh in her disposition, and the day preceding the excursion to Malmaison was the last time Madame Leroi had seriously to complain of her.

Still, the morning following this treat, on getting up she began to feel the effects of the previous day's fatigue. She dressed listlessly, threw herself into every chair which happened to be in her way, and when the portress, who came up every day to do their household work, knocked at the door, she rose so languidly to let her in, that one might almost have said she was glued to her chair. Then, as if unable any longer to support herself, she sank into a large arm-chair near the door, and said to her mother:

"Indeed, mamma, if you really belonged to me, as you say you do, I should certainly make you do all my work to-day."

"Oh! my child," replied her mother, in a half-serious, half-playful tone; "I expect something much more fatiguing, which is to make you do it yourself."

"Really, mamma, that will fatigue you very much!"

"You cannot think how tired I am, yet for all that I shall be obliged to say to you, 'Marietta, go and open the door, or go and close the window, or pick up my ball.'"

"Well, mamma, and is it you that will be fatigued by these things?"