July 6.
Maitre Mouche has so much delayed me by his visit that I gave up goingto see Jeanne that day. Professional duties kept me very busy for therest of the week. Although at the age when most men retire altogetherfrom active life, I am still attached by a thousand ties to the societyin which I have lived. I have to reside at meetings of academies,scientific congresses, assemblies of various learned bodies. I amoverburdened with honorary functions; I have seven of these in onegovernmental department alone. The bureaux would be very glad to get ridof them. But habit is stronger than both of us together, and I continueto hobble up the stairs of various government buildings. Old clerkspoint me out to each other as I go by like a ghost wandering through thecorridors. When one has become very old one finds it extremely difficultto disappear. Nevertheless, it is time, as the old song says, "deprendre ma retraite et de songer a faire un fin"--to retire on mypension and prepare myself to die a good death.
An old marchioness, who used to be a friend of Hevetius in her youth,and whom I once met at my father's house when a very old woman, wasvisited during her last sickness by the priest of her parish, who wantedto prepare her to die.
"Is that really necessary?" she asked. "I see everybody else manage itperfectly well the first time."
My father went to see her very soon afterwards and found her extremelyill.
"Good-evening, my friend!" she said, pressing his hand. "I am going tosee whether God improves upon acquaintance."
So were wont to die the belles amies of the philosophers. Such an end iscertainly not vulgar nor impertinent, and such levities are not of thesort that emanate from dull minds. Nevertheless, they shock me. Neithermy fears nor my hopes could accommodate themselves to such a mode ofdeparture. I would like to make mine with a perfectly collected mind;and that is why I must begin to think, in a year or two, about someway of belonging to myself; otherwise, I should certainly risk.... But,hush! let Him not hear His name and turn to look as He passes by! I canstill lift my fagot without His aid.
... I found Jeanne very happy indeed. She told me that, on the Thursdayprevious, after the visit of her guardian, Mademoiselle Prefere hadset her free from the ordinary regulations and lightened her tasksin several ways. Since that lucky Thursday she could walk in thegarden--which only lacked leaves and flowers--as much as she liked; andshe had been given facilities to work at her unfortunate little figureof Saint-George.
She said to me, with a smile,
"I know very well that I owe all of this to you."
I tried to talk with her about other matters, but I remarked that shecould not attend to what I was saying, in spite of her effort to do so.
"I see you are thinking about something else," I said. "Well, tell mewhat it is; for, if you do not, we shall not be able to talk to eachother at all, which would be very unworthy of both of us."
She answered,
"Oh! I was really listening to you, Monsieur; but it is true that I wasthinking about something else. You will excuse me, won't you? I couldnot help thinking that Mademoiselle Prefere must like you very, verymuch indeed, to have become so good to me all of a sudden."
Then she looked at me in an odd, smiling, frightened way, which made melaugh.
"Does that surprise you?" I asked.
"Very much," she replied.
"Please tell me why?"
"Because I can see no reason, no reason at all... but there!... no reasonat all why you should please Mademoiselle Prefere so much."
"So, then, you think I am very displeasing, Jeanne?"
She bit her lips, as if to punish them for having made a mistake; andthen, in a coaxing way, looking at me with great soft eyes, gentle andbeautiful as a spaniel's, she said,
"I know I said a foolish think; but, still, I do not see any reason whyyou should be so pleasing to Mademoiselle Prefere. And, nevertheless,you seem to please her a great deal--a very great deal. She called meone day, and asked me all sorts of questions about you."
"Really?"
"Yes; she wanted to find out all about your house. Just think! she evenasked me how old your servant was!"
And Jeanne burst out laughing.
"Well, what do you think about it?" I asked.
She remained a long while with her eyes fixed on the worn-out cloth ofher shoes, and seemed to be thinking very deeply. Finally, looking upagain, she answered,
"I am distrustful. Isn't it very natural to feel uneasy about what onecannot understand; I know I am foolish; but you won't be offended withme, will you?"
"Why, certainly not, Jeanne. I am not a bit offended with you."
I must acknowledge that I was beginning to share her surprise; and Ibegan to turn over in my old head the singular thought of this younggirl--"One is uneasy about what one cannot understand."
But, with a fresh burst of merriment, she cried out,
"She asked me...guess! I will give you a hundred guesses--a thousandguesses. You give it up?... She asked me if you liked good eating."
"And how did you receive this shower of interrogations, Jeanne?"
"I replied, 'I don't know, Mademoiselle.' And Mademoiselle then said tome, 'You are a little fool. The least details of the life of an eminentman ought to be observed. Please to know, Mademoiselle, that MonsieurSylvestre Bonnard is one of the glories of France!'"
"Stuff!" I exclaimed. "And what did YOU think about it, Mademoiselle?"
"I thought that Mademoiselle Prefere was right. But I don't care atall...(I know it is naughty what I am going to say)...I don't care abit, not a bit, whether Mademoiselle Prefere is or is not right aboutanything."
"Well, then, content yourself, Jeanne, Mademoiselle Prefere was notright."
"Yes, yes, she was quite right that time; but I wanted to love everybodywho loved you--everybody without exception--and I cannot do it, becauseit would never be possible for me to love Mademoiselle Prefere."
"Listen, Jeanne," I answered, very seriously, "Mademoiselle Prefere hasbecome good to you; try now to be good to her."
She answered sharply,
"It is very easy for Mademoiselle Prefere to be good to me, and it wouldbe very difficult indeed for me to be good to her."
I then said, in a still more serious tone:
"My child, the authority of a teacher is sacred. You must consider yourschoolmistress as occupying the place to you of the mother whom youlost."
I had scarcely uttered this solemn stupidity when I bitterly regrettedit. The child turned pale, and the tears sprang to her eyes.
"Oh, Monsieur!" she cried, "how could you say such a thing--YOU? Younever knew mamma!"
Ay, just Heaven! I did know her mamma. And how indeed could I have beenfoolish enough to have said what I did?
She repeated, as if to herself:
"Mamma! my dear mamma! my poor mamma!"
A lucky chance prevented me from playing the fool any further. I do notknow how it happened at that moment I looked as if I was going to cry.At my age one does not cry. It must have been a bad cough which broughtthe tears into my eyes. But, anyhow, appearances were in my favour.Jeanne was deceived by them. Oh! what a pure and radiant smile suddenlyshone out under her beautiful wet eyelashes--like sunshine amongbranches after a summer shower! We took each other by the hand and sata long while without saying a word--absolutely happy. Those celestialharmonies which I once thought I heard thrilling through my soul while Iknelt before that tomb to which a saintly woman had guided me, suddenlyawoke again in my heart, slow-swelling through the blissful moments withinfinite softness. Doubtless the child whose hand pressed my own alsoheard them; and then, elevated by their enchantment above the materialworld, the poor old man and the artless young girl both knew that atender ghostly Presence was making sweetness all about them.
"My child," I said at last, "I am very old, and many secrets of life,which you will only learn little by little, have been revealed to me.Believe me, the future is shaped out of the past. Whatever you can doto live contentedly here, without impatience and without
fretting, willhelp you live some future day in peace and joy in your own home. Begentle, and learn how to suffer. When one suffers patiently one suffersless. If you should be badly treated, Madame de Gabry and I would bothconsider ourselves badly treated in your person."...
"Is your health very good indeed, dear Monsieur?"
It was Mademoiselle Prefere, approaching stealthily behind us, who hadasked the question with a peculiar smile. My first idea was to tell herto go to the devil; my second, that her mouth was as little suited forsmiling as a frying-pan for musical purposes; my third was to answer herpolitely and assure her that I hoped she was very well.
She sent the young girl out to take a walk in the garden; then, pressingone hand upon her pelerine and extending the other towards the Tableaud'Honneur, she showed me the name of Jeanne Alexandre written at thehead of the list in large text.
"I am very much pleased," I said to her, "to find that you are satisfiedwith the behaviour of that child. Nothing could delight me more; andI am inclined to attribute this happy result to your affectionatevigilance. I have taken the liberty to send you a few books which Ithink may serve both to instruct and to amuse young girls. You willbe able to judge by glancing over them whether they are adapted to theperusal of Mademoiselle Alexandre and her companions."
The gratitude of the schoolmistress not only overflowed in words, butseemed about to take the form of tearful sensibility. In order to changethe subject I observed,
"What a beautiful day this is!"
"Yes," she replied; "and if this weather continues, those dear childrenwill have a nice time for their enjoyment."
"I suppose you are referring to the holidays. But MademoiselleAlexandre, who has no relatives, cannot go away. What in the world isshe going to do all alone in this great big house?"
"Oh, we will do everything we can to amuse her.... I will take her tothe museums and---"
She hesitated, blushed, and continued,
"--and to your house, if you will permit me."
"Why of course!" I exclaimed. "That is a first-rate idea."
We separated very good friends with one another. I with her, because Ihad been able to obtain what I desired; she with me, for no appreciablemotive--which fact, according to Plato, elevated her into the highestrank of the Hierarchy of Souls.
... And nevertheless it is not without a presentiment of evil that Ifind myself on the point of introducing this person into my house. And Iwould be very glad indeed to see Jeanne in charge of anybody else ratherthan of her. Maitre Mouche and Mademoiselle Prefere are characters whomI cannot at all understand. I never can imagine why they say what theydo say, nor why they do what they do; they have a mysterious somethingin common which makes me feel uneasy. As Jeanne said to me a littlewhile ago: "One is uneasy about what one cannot understand."
Alas! at my age one has learned only too well how little sincerity thereis in life; one has learned only too well how much one loses by living along time in this world; and one feels that one can no longer trust anyexcept the young.