第51章

"If I want anybody to do anything for me, which, thank God, I do not,"Therese had replied, "I would get somebody less delicate and dainty than you are.What I want is rest.That is a merchandise which is not sold at fairs under the sign of 'Motus with finger on lip.' Go and have your fun, and don't stay here--for old age might be catching."Jeanne, after telling us what she had said, added that she liked very much to hear old Therese talk.Whereupon Mademoiselle Prefere reproached her for expressing such unladylike tastes.

I tried to excuse her by citing the example of Moliere.Just at that moment it came to pass that, while climbing the ladder to get a book, she upset a whole shelf-row.There was a heavy crash; and Mademoiselle Prefere, being, of course, a very delicate person, almost fainted.Jeanne quickly followed the books to the foot of the ladder.she made one think of a kitten suddenly transformed into a woman, catching mice which had been transformed into old books.

While picking them up, she found one which happened to interest her, and she began to read it, squatting down upon her heels.It was the "Prince Grenouille," she told us.Mademoiselle Prefere took occasion to complain that Jeanne had so little taste for poetry.It was impossible to get her to recite Casimir Delavigne's poem on the death of Joan of Arc without mistakes.It was the very most she could do to learn "Le Petit Savoyard." The schoolmistress did not think that any one should read the "Prince Grenouille" before learning by heart the stanzas to Duperrier; and, carried away by her enthusiasm, she began to recite them in a voice sweeter than the bleating of a sheep:

" Ta douleur, Duperrier, sera donc eternelle, Et les tristes discours Que te met en l'esprit l'amitie paternelle L'augmenteront toujours;.........

" Je sais de quels appas son enfance etait pleine, Et n'ai pas entrepris, Injurieux ami, de consoler ta peine Avecque son mepris."Then in ecstacy, she exclaimed, "How beautiful that is! What harmony! How is it possible for any one not to admire such exquisite, such touching verses! But why did Malherbe call that poor Monsieur Duperrier his injurieux ami at a time when he had been so severely tied by the death of his daughter? Injurieux ami--you must acknowledge that the term is very harsh."I explained to this poetical person that the phrase "Injurieux ami,"which shocked her so much, was in apposition, etc.etc.What I said, however, had so little effect towards clearing her head that she was seized with a severe and prolonged fit of sneezing.Meanwhile it was evident that the history of "Prince Grenouille" had proved extremely funny; for it was all that Jeanne could do, as she crouched down there on the carpet, to keep herself from bursting into a wild fit of laughter.But when she had finished with the prince and princess of the story, and the multitude of their children, she assumed a very suppliant expression, and begged me as a great favour to allow her to put on a white apron and go to the kitchen to help in getting the dinner ready.

"Jeanne," I replied, with the gravity of a master, "I think that if it is a question of breaking plates, knocking off the edges of dishes, denting all the pans, and smashing all the skimmers, the person whom Therese has set to work in the kitchen already will be able to perform her task without assistance; for it seems to me at this very moment I can hear disastrous noises in that kitchen.But anyhow, Jeanne, I will charge you with the duty of preparing the dessert.So go and get your white apron; I will tie it on for you."Accordingly, I solemnly knotted the linen apron about her waist; and she rushed into the kitchen, where she proceeded at once--as we discovered later on--to prepare various dishes unknown to Vatel, unknown even to that great Careme who began his treatise upon pieces montees with these words: "The Fine Arts are five in number:

Painting, Music, Poetry, Sculpture, and Architecture--whereof the principal branch is Confectionery." But I had no reason to be pleased with this little arrangement--for Mademoiselle Prefere, on finding herself alone with me, began to act after a fashion which filled me with frightful anxiety.She gazed upon me with eyes full of tears and flames, and uttered enormous sighs.

"Oh, how I pity you!" she said."A man like you--a man so superior as you are--having to live alone with a coarse servant (for she is certainly coarse, that is incontestable)! How cruel such a life must be! You have need of repose--you have need of comfort, of care, of every kind of attention; you might fall sick.And yet there is no woman who would not deem it an honour to bear your name, and to share your existence.No, there is none; my own heart tells me so."And she squeezed both hands over that heart of hers--always so ready to fly away.

I was driven almost to distraction.I tried to make Mademoiselle Prefere comprehend that I had no intention whatever of changing my habits at so advanced an age, and that I found just as much happiness in life as my character and my circumstances rendered possible.

"No, you are not happy!" she cried."You need to have always beside you a mind capable of comprehending your own.Shake off your lethargy, and cast your eyes about you.Your professional connections are of the most extended character, and you must have charming acquaintances.One cannot be a Member of the Institute without going into society.See, judge, compare.No sensible woman would refuse you her hand.I am a woman, Monsieur; my instinct never deceives me--there is something within me which assures me that you would find happiness in marriage.Women are so devoted, so loving (not all, of course, but some)! And, then, they are so sensitive to glory.

Remember that at your age one has need, like Oedipus, of an Egeria!