Part 23

One of Julia's companions had been presented with two little white mice, the prettiest little things imaginable. They were inclosed in a large glass-case, through which they could be seen; a kind of little wheel had been suspended from the lid, which they turned round with their paws, like squirrels, in trying to climb upon it, and thus they fancied they were travelling a great distance. As her friend could not carry them with her to school, where she had still to remain for a year, Julia begged that she would lend them to her for that time, promising to take great care of them; and, indeed, she attended to them herself. Her mother would not allow her to have animals to be taken care of by the servants, for she thought such things can amuse only when one attends to them oneself, and that if they do not amuse, they are not worth the trouble of having. Julia gave them their food frequently enough, but she frequently forgot to shut the case; then they made their escape. They had hitherto been always caught, but one day, when they were out enjoying themselves, and when Julia, according to custom, had been so careless as to leave her door open, a cat entered, and Julia, who returned at that moment, saw her eating one of the mice without any power of preventing it. She was in despair, and exclaimed twenty times, "Oh! the vile cat! the horrid cat!" and declared that had she known this, she would never have taken charge of the mice.

"My dear child," said her mother, when she was a little pacified, "all your misfortune comes from your not having again read, at that time, the story of Madame Croque-Mitaine."

"But, mamma," said Julia impatiently, "what could that have to do with it?"

"You would have seen then, that we ought never to undertake anything without being sure of having the power of accomplishing it. For what happened to Louisa and Paul arose from their not sufficiently considering, before they went out to the toy-shop, whether they should be able to reach it without going astray, and without being afraid of the carriages; just as you did not sufficiently consider, before you took charge of the mice, whether you were able to take proper care of them."

"But, mamma, it would have been necessary to have foreseen."

"That you would have been careless; that the mice would escape from an open case; that when they were out, the cat would eat them. All this you might very easily have thought of, had you been able to profit by the story of Madame Croque-Mitaine."

Julia thought her mother's raillery very disagreeable, but she was soon consoled, for her friend, to whom she wrote an account of her misfortune, told her, in reply, that she was not angry with her, and besides, she was invited to a ball, the first to which she had been since she had left school. Julia danced pretty well. During the two years she had passed at school, she had been one of those selected to dance the gavotte, at the distribution of prizes, and as always happens in polished society, many compliments had been paid her, so that she felt the greatest desire to dance the gavotte at a ball. Scarcely had she arrived at this one, when she communicated her wishes to the daughter of her hostess, who was her cousin, and the mother having become acquainted with her desire, arranged one for her, towards the middle of the ball. Madame de Vallonay being quite ignorant of the matter, was greatly astonished when they came for Julia to dance. She at first refused to let her go, but the lady of the house had calculated upon her performing this dance with her son, and thought it would be very pretty to see them in it, as they were nearly of a size, and also much alike. Madame de Vallonay, finding that she made a point of it, that the company were already arranged for the gavotte, and that this discussion attracted general attention, consented to let her daughter go, although with extreme reluctance, because she considered it absurd to take up in this manner the attention of every one, in looking at persons who do not possess any talent capable of affording amusement.

Not so with Julia: convinced that she was going to delight every one, she walked across the room with a lofty air, which caused much laughter. She heard this, and reddened with anger, especially when she saw one lady speaking in a whisper, while looking at her with a quizzical air, and heard another behind her saying, "How ridiculous to interrupt the ball, in order to let that little girl dance the gavotte!" However, she was not discouraged; she did her best, held her head still higher than usual, and displayed all those graces which had obtained her such brilliant success at school. She was, therefore, dreadfully annoyed when, at the end, the ironical laughter which mingled with the applause, and even the exaggeration of the applause itself, showed her that she was an object of ridicule. Scarcely had she finished her last courtesy, when the young ladies and gentlemen crowded forward to take their places in the country dance. Julia, as with difficulty she passed through them, conducted by her partner, who was wiping his brow, heard it murmured around her, "It is well that that is over; it has been a very stupid affair."

She felt deeply humiliated; her heart was oppressed, and she cast down her eyes: she supposed that no one would again ask her to dance, and indeed, two country dances had taken place without her having been invited to join. Anticipating, therefore, nothing but vexation from this ball, from which she had promised herself so much pleasure, she told her mother that she was tired, and entreated her to go home. Madame de Vallonay easily guessed the cause of her fatigue; but that she might not increase her annoyance, she did not mention the subject that evening. The following day, however, she wished to know whether it was she who requested to dance the gavotte. Julia, though very much ashamed, confessed that it was.

"It has turned out very unfortunately for you, my poor Julia," said Madame de Vallonay; "what a pity that you did not call to mind at that moment the story of Madame Croque-Mitaine."

"And what use would it have been to me?"

"It would have taught you that we always run the risk of committing folly, when we wish to follow one general course of action, without reflecting whether the circumstances are altered. Thus, Louisa and Paul, who were accustomed to run about alone, in the country, in places where there was no danger of their meeting with carriages, or cabriolets, or passers by, never thought that in the streets of Paris, it would be quite a different affair; and you, who were in the habit of dancing the gavotte at school, where you were applauded, because the strangers who were there were anxious to please the mistress, did not reflect that it would be quite another matter when you danced it in the midst of a large number of persons, who took no interest in you, and who were assembled there to dance themselves, and not to look at you."

"But, mamma," said Julia, who was anxious to turn the conversation, "you find everything in Madame Croque-Mitaine."

"I could find many other things also; and if you wish, we shall have enough there for a long time to come."

"Oh! no, no, mamma, I entreat you."

"I shall be very glad not to speak of it any more, my child, but only on one condition, which is, that for the future, you will not take it into your head to imagine that what is said by grownup people can be a fit subject of raillery for a little girl like you; and that, when their conversation wearies you, instead of pretending that it does so, because it is ridiculous, you will, on the contrary, say to yourself, that it is because you have not sufficient penetration to understand it, or sufficient sense to profit by it. Take care, for if you fail, I shall send you again for instruction to the story of Madame Croque-Mitaine."

AGLAÏA AND LEONTINE;

OR MANOEUVRING.

Aglaïa resided in a provincial town, with her grandmother, Madame Lacour, the widow of a respectable notary. As Madame Lacour was in easy circumstances, and, moreover, exact and economical, she was enabled to live very agreeably, associating only with persons of her own class, without seeking those who were distinguished by a more elevated rank, or greater wealth. She received company every Thursday, and spent the other evenings in visiting her friends at their own houses. Aglaïa, who always went with her, met on these occasions young people of her own age, and these in like manner accompanied their parents on the Thursdays to Madame Lacour's _soirées_. In the summer they made up parties for the country, and spent the day in the gardens belonging to one or other of the society. These gardens not being very distant, the young people walked there, while the elder ones rode upon donkeys. They amused themselves in the fields, and returned home in the evening very tired, but very happy, and a few days afterwards commenced again.

Aglaïa, who was mild and amiable, was very much beloved by her companions; but her greatest friends were Hortense Guimont, and her brother Gustave, the children of the physician of the town. Hortense was fourteen years of age, Aglaïa a year younger, while Gustave was sixteen. Though Aglaïa was less familiar with him than with Hortense, she was still very fond of him. She even felt for him a certain degree of deference, for Gustave was much advanced for his age, highly esteemed in the town for his diligence and success in his studies, and looked upon as one destined to obtain honourable distinction in his future career. Even those who had known him from his childhood, no longer called him _little Guimont_, but _young Guimont_. Some even said _M. Guimont_. Parents held him up as a model to their sons, and his companions were proud of him, and always treated him with respect.

His sister, Hortense, was also very amiable and sensible. M. Guimont, their father, brought them up very judiciously. Although his society was much courted by the most distinguished families of the town, not only on account of his talents as a physician, but also on account of his amiability and conversational powers, he would never take his children into the high circles which he occasionally frequented himself. "I wish my daughter," he said, "to remain among those with whom she is destined to pass her life; and as to my son, if his talents procure him hereafter the means of being well received in the world, I shall be delighted; but I will not inspire him with a taste for elevated society, until I am quite sure that he will be able to maintain his position there with honour."

It was sometimes said to him, "With your extensive connection, you might easily advance your son." He replied, "If my son has merit, he will advance himself; and if he has not, I would not wish to place him in a position in which he would only discover his own incapacity;" and he added, "Gustave is in a much better position than I was when I began, for there are many persons, I believe, who will be disposed to take an interest in him on my account; he must do the rest for himself, and he will be able to do it much better than I could do it for him, for I cannot make people take an interest in him on his own account." Nevertheless, M. Guimont could not entirely resist the importunities of some friends, who were particularly attached to him, and who pressed him very much to bring his son to visit them. However, Gustave, who was proud, felt ill at ease in the society of persons with whom he was not on an equality, and who thought they were conferring an honour on him, in receiving him into their circle; and he was equally ill at ease with the young people of this class, since he could not treat them as companions. He was afraid of being too cold, and did not wish to be too polite, because an excess of politeness might have been regarded as adulation; neither did he wish to be too attentive, because he felt that his attentions could not be flattering to any one. He therefore entreated his father not to take him again into such company, and resolved to devote his energies to the acquirement of personal merit, that he might hope one day to be sought for on his own account, to confer, in his turn, honour on those who received him, and see them attach importance to his attentions.

He always felt happy at Madame Lacour's, who was a woman of good sense, and an intimate friend of his father. He was very fond of Aglaïa, who had been brought up by her grandmother, as well as any young lady could be in a country town, and who showed a disposition to improve her mind. Madame Lacour had begged him to revise her exercises, and he was a severe master; indeed, Aglaïa was more afraid of his disapprobation than of that of her grandmother. Whenever he was dissatisfied with her, it was always Hortense who restored peace between them, and being older and more advanced than Aglaïa, she generally looked over her exercises before they were shown to Gustave, so much was she afraid of his finding fault with her. Notwithstanding all this, however, they agreed very well, and, next to his sister, Aglaïa was the person in whom he reposed most confidence. She was very proud of this, for all the young people with whom she was acquainted, attached great value to Gustave's friendship.

The nobility and people of wealth seldom spent more than the winter in the town. In summer all went to their country seats. The town, however, was not on this account any the less gay for Aglaïa, or the reunions of Madame Lacour; but as it was more quiet, every unusual occurrence created a proportionate sensation. People were therefore very much taken up with M. d'Armilly, and his daughter Leontine, who had just arrived there. M. d'Armilly had recently purchased a château in the environs, which being uninhabitable, he was having rebuilt; and in order to be able to superintend the operations, he had established himself in the town: but he was very seldom at home, and usually slept at a neighbouring farm, that he might be nearer his workmen. He left his daughter under the care of a confidential person, who acted as her governess, and who could have educated her very well, as she was herself well educated, had she not, for the sake of pleasing M. d'Armilly, who quite spoiled his daughter, allowed her to have her own way in everything.

Leontine was as foolish as a spoiled child, and excessively proud. She was fifteen years old, just the age when ridiculous ideas are most apt to enter the head of a young girl. Having some relations of high rank, she had lived in Paris in the most fashionable society, and had assumed some of the airs of a woman, while adding to them all the follies of a child. Her father and herself having been received, on their arrival, with all the respect with which an innkeeper is usually inspired by the sight of one of the greatest landowners of his neighbourhood, she thought she must maintain her dignity by corresponding manners. She asked if at that time there was any one in the town whom she could visit; they named Madame Lacour, M. Guimont, M. André, a linen-manufacturer, M. Dufour, a wholesale wine-merchant, &c. She inquired about some persons of higher rank, whom she knew were resident there, but all were then out of town; and Leontine, satisfied with having indicated by her questions the kind of society to which she had been accustomed, did not dare, however much she may have felt inclined to be impertinent, to display more than half the ridiculous airs which she had prepared to mark her contempt for the more humble names.

Reduced to the society of her governess, and to a few excursions made with her father to the château which was in course of erection, Leontine's only amusement was to select from her wardrobe whatever was most novel, and best calculated to produce an extraordinary sensation in a provincial town, and then to go daily and display her haughty airs on the public promenade. Every one looked at her, but this was what she wished; every one ridiculed her without her being aware of it, but in secret all the young girls began to imitate her. It was soon observed that they carried their heads much higher, and that an innovation was made in the manner of fastening their sashes. Aglaïa had already turned and returned her bonnet in two or three different ways, in the hope of imparting to it something of the style which Leontine's displayed, and she had also tried two or three modes of arranging the folds of her shawl.

Gustave had remarked this, and laughed at her, and though she would not admit the charge, she still felt very much annoyed with him, because he would not appreciate the beauty of a bow, which she had succeeded in placing in precisely the same manner in which Leontine's had been arranged on the previous evening.

The excitement became general: even Hortense, accustomed as she was to defer to her brother's opinion, had already twice disputed with him, maintaining that it did not follow, that because a fashion had been introduced by Leontine, it was not pretty; and that if it was pretty, it was quite rational to adopt it. Gustave, almost as much a child, in his own way, as Aglaïa in hers, would not allow that Leontine should be imitated in anything, so much was he annoyed at the importance attached to everything she did. In fact, she could not take a step, but it was known; people were informed of what her father's cook had bought for dinner, and various intrigues were resorted to in order to discover what she ate for breakfast. It was known whether she heard mass attentively or not, and this at least proved that the observers had been inattentive; in a word, she could not pass down the street without every one rushing to the window to see her.

One may judge of the excitement at Madame Lacour's, when one morning, Leontine, accompanied by her governess, Mademoiselle Champré, called there to pay a visit. Madame Lacour's husband, who for many years had been a notary in another province, had rendered M. d'Armilly important services in his affairs. This gentleman, having discovered that his widow resided in the town, desired his daughter to call upon her, as he was too much occupied at the moment to go himself; and Leontine, who began to get very dull, was not sorry to have a pretext for laying aside her dignity. Madame Lacour, who had shared but little in the extreme interest taken in all her actions, was but moderately excited by her visit, but Aglaïa blushed a dozen times before Leontine had spoken to her, and a dozen times more while answering her.

It is not so easy as may be imagined to assume airs with persons who are not accustomed to them, and whose simplicity interferes with them at every moment; when not sustained by a suitable concurrence of circumstances, and by the example of others, a person relapses into his natural manners in spite of himself, and the studied tones of impertinence only return at intervals, and as it were by an effort of the memory. Leontine was much less ridiculous than could have been supposed. Madame Lacour, with her customary indulgence, was pleased with her, and Aglaïa thought her charming.

It was Thursday: in the evening at Madame Lacour's _soirée_, nothing was talked of but the morning's visit. "She has then, at last, made up her mind," said some of the ladies; "I suppose she will do us also the honour of paying us a visit;" and they were not a little shocked that Leontine had commenced with Madame Lacour. Others took refuge in their dignity, and professed to care nothing at all about her. Others, again, less reserved, asked what she had said, calculated the day she would call upon Madame Dufour or Madame André, and whispered among themselves that she would probably not visit Madame Simon, whom they considered as somewhat inferior to themselves, and they agreed that it was quite natural that she should not call on her. The young ladies in their circle repeated very much the same things as their mothers, and with still greater volubility. As for Aglaïa, she narrated, explained, and repeated her story, in the most imposing and animated tones; but while in the midst of her excitement, she perceived that Gustave was watching her from his part of the room, and shrugging his shoulders with an ironical smile. This disconcerted her exceedingly; but seeing Hortense listening to her with more attention than her brother, she resumed the conversation, and would willingly have continued it throughout the entire evening. It was with pain that she heard any other subject introduced, and she contrived to revert to her favourite topic every moment. "That is precisely," she would say, "what Mademoiselle Leontine d'Armilly was telling me this morning." If any particular place in the neighbourhood was alluded to, "Mademoiselle Leontine d'Armilly has not yet seen it," said Aglaïa. Some one spoke of the excessive heat of the day, "Mademoiselle Leontine d'Armilly was surprised to find grandmamma's room so cool," observed Aglaïa.

At this moment she was balancing herself on her chair, the two front legs slipped backwards, and both Aglaïa and the chair fell. Every one hastened to help her up, and Gustave amongst the rest; but seeing that she was unhurt, he said, "I suppose Mademoiselle Leontine d'Armilly did that too." Every one laughed: Aglaïa, very much ashamed, and very angry, did not again pronounce Leontine's name, neither did she speak to Gustave the whole evening. Though she was afraid of vexing him too much, still it is certain that she began to withdraw her confidence from him, for she could not speak to him on the subject that chiefly occupied her thoughts. She was also a little afraid of Hortense, and thus she was ill at ease with those whom she most loved, because they did not share in the ridiculous pleasures of her vanity.