"It is the best thing you can do." For the first time M. Lebeau was offended with Louis, because Louis had placed him in the wrong, and, for the first time also, Louis found that M. Lebeau was to blame for his disobliging conduct towards his aunt.
The next day, he would have set out in a somewhat sad mood, had he not chanced to notice his mother's room, which had been left open for the purpose of airing it, as well as his father's, which Marianne had just been putting in order. This recalled his resolution to make every thing pleasant to his aunt, who, on her side, was all good humour. Even Barogo, who, in the transports of his joy, leaped several times upon her, was allowed to do so without being angrily repulsed. Louis, compelled at the fête to give his arm to his aunt, who could neither walk fast nor go far, could not help looking at the various groups of pedestrians so full of vivacity and mirth. People were hastening to the river-side, and crowding into boats, in order to go and dine on an island at a short distance, whence they were to return afterwards to dance in the meadow. Madame Ballier wished to engage a boat, but there was not one to be had, nor even a place in one. Louis saw, with a sigh, that he should be obliged to sacrifice his whole day completely, and Madame Ballier was herself rather disconcerted, not knowing very well how to pass the time. At some distance they perceived M. Lebeau, ready to embark with all his family. Louis observed them without stirring from his place, till M. Lebeau beckoned to him, when he begged permission from his aunt to go and speak to him.
"Have you a boat?" asked M. Lebeau. Louis replied in the negative. "Confound it!" said M. Lebeau, with a look of annoyance which Louis very well understood; for his boat would have accommodated half-a-dozen more persons.
"Could not your aunt," said M. Lebeau, "join some other party? I see some of her acquaintance yonder. Then you could join us." Louis could not forbear looking in the direction pointed out, but immediately recollecting himself, he replied, "Indeed, Monsieur Lebeau, I could not think of proposing such a plan to her; you must see yourself that it would not be right," and he was turning away, but Eugenia held him gently by his coat.
"Confound it!" repeated M. Lebeau. He stopped, and then suddenly resumed, "Well, then, if it cannot be otherwise arranged, bring your aunt with you; we will try and find a place for her."
Louis hesitated, not knowing whether he ought to accept the invitation. "Go, Charles, and propose it to her," said Madame Lebeau, who had long wished to see an end to the bickerings between her husband and Madame Ballier; and Eugenia, without waiting for a command, set off with Charles to invite Madame Ballier to come into their boat, adding, like a person of discretion as she was, that her mother would herself have come, had she not to take care of her little sister. Madame Ballier made a few difficulties, just sufficient to support her dignity; but Louis came up, took her arm, and cutting short all objections, had no sooner said, "Come, let us make haste, pray," than they were already on the way, Madame Ballier walking as fast as she could, and Charles with Eugenia running and skipping before them with cries of triumph. The bustle of arrival, and of entering the boat, saved Madame Ballier the embarrassment of showing either too much eagerness or too much resentment; and M. Lebeau, in saying to her, "Come, Madame Ballier, place yourself there, quite at your ease," was not more abrupt in his manner than he would have been to one whose society was the most agreeable to him. Madame Lebeau was all kindness and attention, and Eugenia hastened to place under her feet the board which was laid across the bottom of the boat, to preserve the ladies from the wet. Louis, meanwhile, pressed the hand of M. Lebeau, with an expression which moved him. "Come," said the latter, "you are a good boy; I am very glad to have given you pleasure;" and off they went.
The day passed delightfully. They dined on the island. M. Lebeau exerted himself to amuse Madame Ballier. Madame Ballier was soon in high spirits, and her gaiety quite accorded with that of M. Lebeau. On rising from table they were the best friends in the world; and M. Lebeau said to Louis, "After all, your aunt is at heart a good sort of woman." "No doubt of it," replied Louis, in a tone which showed that he would not have the good qualities of his aunt called in question. On bringing her amongst his friends, he had taken care that his friends should be agreeable to her. His attentions naturally attracted those of others, and the kind Eugenia seemed to have no thought but that of seconding him. As to Madame Ballier, she was good-nature itself; she remained as late as they wished at the dancing, and scarcely complained of fatigue on their way home, particularly as Louis took care to say something laughable, whenever they came to any bad parts in the road. To crown all, on entering the house, they found a letter announcing the exact hour at which they might expect their friends the next day; and Madame Ballier declared that she would herself carry the intelligence to M. Lebeau, to whom she owed this civility, as he had been so extremely obliging to her.
The morning came at last; then noon; then four o'clock; then they heard the sound of the carriage; then it stopped. How often had they repeated to themselves that they must restrain their joy to avoid overpowering the invalid; yet, at the moment the doors were opened, and that they rushed down stairs, the excitement was so great, that Barogo began to bark, Robinet took to flight, and Marianne knew not where she was; but all was hushed at the sight of M. Delong, who, still feeble, and deprived of the use of his limbs, required support on all sides, and of Madame Delong, pale and worn out by the sufferings of her husband. The invalid was carried upstairs so gently that even the steps of those who bore him were inaudible. They seated him in an easy-chair, and quietly placed themselves around him. Louis, standing before his father, sometimes raised his eyes to him, and then cast them down as he encountered those of his father examining him attentively. His heart beat, for this first interview with a father who had left him a mere child and now found him almost a man, was to him a great and imposing moment. Madame Delong, with a mixture of anxiety and confidence, looked alternately at her son and at her husband. At length, Madame Ballier, who willingly translated into words these mute scenes, said to the colonel,—"I can assure you, nephew, that you have a very amiable son;" and then addressing herself to Madame Delong; "You cannot imagine, niece, how much he has improved during your absence."
Louis eagerly kissed his mother's hand, whose pale features were now lit up with a flush of joy. This moment convinced her that they had not ceased to understand each other.