“He? He called him a nasty beast and said: ‘You fool, to grab me by the hair and make my head ache! you deserve to be licked!’ That was the young gentleman’s gratitude!”
“Oh, dear! he certainly is a wicked little boy.”
“If my son had lived,” sighed Honorine, “I am sure he wouldn’t have been naughty like that!”
“Probably not, madame; for children generally take after their father and mother more or less, although there have been great criminals who were born of most estimable parents. But you would have taken care of your child, madame; you would have repressed his evil tendencies, corrected his faults, early in life; and that is just what poor Jacqueline could not do. The good woman, being obliged to work for her living, could not keep her eye on the boy, who, no doubt, passed his days in the village street with the other children, from the moment he was able to walk. And here it is the same: Jacqueline works for her sister, and little Emile does what he pleases, for there is no way of keeping him in the house. Mère Tourniquoi undertook to make him go to school,—but no; the rascal beat his schoolmates, laughed at his teachers, played tricks on them, concealed or destroyed the school-books—so that they turned him out of the school.”
“He’s a promising child!” cried Agathe; “still, I am curious to see him.”
“And so am I,” said Honorine; “if only we might by gentle treatment and reasoning bring him around to better sentiments!—for he will be a man some day! There are too many people who enjoy doing evil; and it is blameworthy to allow the number to increase!”
“What you say is very true, madame, but in truth I believe that you would waste your time with the lost child; not that he is without intelligence and doesn’t understand what is said to him;—oh! no, indeed! On the contrary, the little rascal has plenty of wit, and he often proves it by what he says; but it’s an evil kind of wit, mischievous and wicked!”
“Oh! doctor, consider that he is not eight years old, so you told us! One would think, to hear you talk, that you do not love children.”
“I do love them dearly until they are two years old; but very little when they are growing up.”
“If this one has intelligence, there is still hope; only the unintelligent are hopeless.”