“Really!” exclaimed the young man with an appearance of delight which astonished Maurice.
“And now go away from me, pray,” said Maurice, still crying bitterly. “I am ill; I think I am going to faint:” and he ran into the arms of his mother.
“Your son is a hero!” cried the young officer, joyfully, addressing his sister. “He is a hero, I say.”
“And you—you are cruel,” replied the mother, caressing her son, who was sobbing convulsively.
“But did you not hear,” said the young man, “how he kept to his word,—how he refused to give me Cressida?”
“It is not right,” said the mother, “to torture a child by such a trial. Suppose out of love for you he had given way; you would have reproached him for listening to the dictates of his heart rather than obeying his sense of duty. Let me tell you that what is a virtue in grown-up people, is not always so in a child. It is through their affections that we govern children, and you would teach him to combat his tenderest feelings. Besides, you set a bad example: you were practising a deception in pretending that you wanted the horse.”
“What! uncle,” cried my little friend, who began to recover, “was it only make-believe when you asked me for Cressida? You only wanted to see if I should keep my promise? You would not have loved me any longer, perhaps, if I had given it to you; and yet I should have given it because I love you.”
“You hear that,” said Mrs. de Roisel.
“What a great man this little fellow will make some day!” exclaimed the uncle.
I daresay my little readers can see, though the uncle did not, how near Maurice was to yielding and giving up Cressida at last. We will allow the young officer to remain in ignorance upon this point, but let us tell him that it is always better to prevent faults than to provoke them.