Popular Tales

by Madame Guizot

Marietta pouted a little, though with a smile; the good conduct of the morning guaranteed that of the evening.

The following day she accompanied her mother, to purchase some dresses which they required. They were first shown two remnants exactly similar, which were very cheap, and contained sufficient to make Marietta a dress, with a jacket for the winter, leaving besides a good deal for mending. Marietta was greatly tempted by another piece, very much prettier, but as it did not seem that Madame Leroi's dress could be got out of the two remnants, it was necessary that she should be contented to take them for her share. While she was vainly exerting her eloquence, to induce the draper to let her have a dress cut from the pretty piece at the same price as the remnants, Madame Leroi, by dint of measuring and calculating had come to the conclusion, that by joining the sleeves, and by making a plain dress instead of a pelisse as she had at first intended, the remnants would answer for her, and she could thus leave the other for her daughter. Marietta at first opposed this arrangement, but at length allowed her scruples to be overcome, and full of joy carried off her pretty dress under her arm, opening the paper every moment on her way back to have a peep at it. When, on reaching home, she spread it out upon her bed to admire it, and allow the portress to do so too, she cast her eyes upon her mother's remnants, and sighed; then seating herself upon Madame Leroi's knees, and throwing her arms around her neck,—"Mamma," she said, in a somewhat saddened tone, "was it also for the sake of duty that you allowed me to have the pretty dress?"

"No, my darling," replied her mother, tenderly embracing her, "it was for my pleasure." And Marietta, her heart beating with delight, yielded without restraint to the happiness she felt in the acquisition of her new dress, for she saw that the more it was admired, the greater was her mother's satisfaction at having made this sacrifice for her.

In proportion as Marietta increased in sense, she perceived more clearly that, if it be the joy of a mother to sacrifice herself for her children, it is her duty to teach them not to abuse her kindness; and being at length persuaded that her mother contradicted her only when she was obliged to do so, she exerted herself to spare her this necessity, and succeeded so well, that their mutual confidence increased daily, and they were almost like two friends.

However, when about fourteen years of age, Marietta having grown very fast, fell into a kind of languor, which made her sad and fretful. Although she had acquired sufficient self-control to overcome some portion of her irritability, there still remained quite enough to exercise the affectionate indulgence of Madame Leroi, who, fearing to excite to a dangerous degree the irritable disposition of her daughter, displayed the utmost patience in bringing her back to reason; and Marietta, when her better feelings returned, was almost ready to adore her mother for her condescension.

One day, Madame Thibourg happened to be present at one of these outbursts of temper. She began by reasoning with Marietta; then becoming provoked by her asperity, and unreasonableness, and the tone which she assumed towards her mother, who was endeavouring to quiet her, she ended by telling her a few severe truths, which threw Marietta into such a state of excitement, that she rushed out of the room with cries and tears, and almost in convulsions. Her mother, who went to seek her after the departure of Madame Thibourg, found her still trembling, but calm, and deeply ashamed of what had taken place; though she endeavoured to excuse herself by urging that Madame Thibourg had taken a pleasure in pushing her to extremities.

"She took pleasure, my child," replied her mother, "in proving to you, that she was right and that you were wrong. You wished to do the same with regard to her; and even supposing that you both considered yourselves right, was it not your place to yield?"

"Oh, mamma! that is not how you act towards me," said Marietta, melting into tears at the conviction of her error, for at that moment she remembered all her mother's kindness.

"My child," said Madame Leroi, "it is because I belong to you that I ought to sacrifice every personal feeling, rather than cause you a single emotion capable of injuring your character, or your health; but tell me, Marietta, do you think there is any one else in the world who belongs to you, except your mother?"

Deeply moved, and still excited by the scene which had just occurred, Marietta threw herself, sobbing, into her mother's arms. "Oh, mamma!" she exclaimed; "it is you who treat me with indulgence and consideration, you to whom I ought always to yield more than to any one else."