“Then I hope that you won’t scold your son; and, if you take my advice you won’t make a child of that age carry such heavy loads any more.”
“Oh! monsieur, it gets them used to being strong. We poor folks can’t bring children up on lollipops.—Well, Coco, come here.”
The child approached timidly, and, when he reached his father’s side, began to whimper again, saying:
“I broke the bowl.”
“Yes, yes, I know what happened; monsieur told me all about it. Go back to the house now, and tell Mère Madeleine to get me some dinner, and to be sure to have some wine. But no, I’d rather go to dinner at Claude’s cabaret. Go home, Coco, and don’t wait supper for me; I’ve got business in the town.”
Auguste guessed that Père Calleux’s business consisted in drinking up the five-franc piece to the last sou; but, satisfied to see that his young protégé was in high spirits, he bade the peasant adieu, and followed the child, who retraced the steps they had just taken; but this time he leaped and gambolled about his companion. His great grief was forgotten already! And they say that we are great children: it is true as concerns our foibles, but not as concerns happiness.
Auguste, happy in the little fellow’s joy, took pleasure in watching him. Laughter sits so well upon a little face of six years! A person who is fond of children cannot conceive how anyone can look with indifference on their tears. And yet there are people for whom a dog’s yelping has more charm than the laughter of a child! It speaks well for their depth of feeling!
As they went along, Coco sang and ran and played about Auguste, playing little tricks on him, for they were great friends already; at six years and a half one gives one’s friendship as quickly as at twenty one gives one’s heart. Auguste ran and played with the child; he chased him, caught him, and rolled with him on the grass, heedless of the fact that it stained his clothes, because the boy’s laughter was so frank and true that it was often shared by his elegant companion.
What! you will say, a dandy, a lady-killer, a butterfly of fashion, amuse himself playing in the fields with a little peasant boy? Why not, pray? Happy the man who, as he grows old, retains his taste for the simple pleasures of his youth! Henri IV walked about his room on all fours, carrying his children on his back. When surprised in that position by the ambassador of a foreign power, he asked him, without rising, if he were a father, and, upon his answer in the affirmative, rejoined: “In that case, I’ll just trot round the room.”
When they reached the place where he had first met the child, Auguste would have bade him adieu and have gone his way; but Coco held his hand and refused to release it.