“If you know that you know nothing,” said Mad. de Rosier, with an encouraging smile, “you know as much as the wisest of men. When the oracle pronounced Socrates to be the wisest of men, he explained it by observing, ‘that he knew himself to be ignorant, whilst other men,’ said he, ‘believing that they know every thing, are not likely to improve.’”
“Then you think I am likely to improve?” said Matilda, with a look of doubtful hope.
“Certainly,” said Mad. de Rosier: “if you exert yourself, you may be any thing you please.”
“Not any thing I please, for I should please to be as clever, and as good, and as amiable, and as estimable, too, as your Rosalie—but that’s impossible. Tell me, however, what she was at my age—and what sort of things she used to do and say—and what books she read—and how she employed herself from morning till night.”
“That must be for to-morrow,” said Mad. de Rosier; “I must now show Herbert the book of prints that he wanted to see.”
It was the first time that Herbert had ever asked to look into a book. Mad. de Rosier had taken him entirely out of the hands of Mrs. Grace, and finding that his painful associations with the sight of the syllables in his dog’s-eared spelling-book could not immediately be conquered, she prudently resolved to cultivate his powers of attention upon other subjects, and not to return to syllabic difficulties, until the young gentleman should have forgotten his literary misfortunes, and acquired sufficient energy and patience to ensure success.
“It is of little consequence,” said she, “whether the boy read a year sooner or later; but it is of great consequence that he should love literature.”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Harcourt, to whom this observation was addressed; “I am sure you will manage all those things properly—I leave him entirely to you—Grace quite gives him up: if he read by the time we must think of sending him to school I shall be satisfied—only keep him out of my way,” added she, laughing, “when he is stammering over that unfortunate spelling-book, for I don’t pretend to be gifted with the patience of Job.”
“Have you any objection,” said Mad. de Rosier, “to my buying for him some new toys?”
“None in the world—buy any thing you will—do any thing you please—I give you carte blanche,” said Mrs. Harcourt.