• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Preface
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 The history of a Louis D'or
 Francou
 M. le Chevalier
 Eudoxia, or, legitimate pride
 Edward and Eugenia; or, the embroidered...
 Marie; or, the feast of Corpus...
 The little brigands
 Old Genevieve
 Julia; or, the story of Madame...
 Aglaia and Leontine; or, maneu...
 Oh! Oh! Oh!
 Helen; or, the failure
 Armand; or, the independent little...
 The secret of courage
 The dream: An Eastern tale
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: Moral tales
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002139/00001
 Material Information
Title: Moral tales
Alternate Title: Guizot's moral tales
Physical Description: iv, 426 p., <7> leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Guizot ( Elisabeth Charlotte Pauline ), 1773-1827 ( Author, Primary )
Campbell, O. R ( Oswald R ) ( Illustrator )
Leighton, John, 1822-1912 ( Designer )
Burke, L. Mrs. ( Translator )
G. Routledge & Co ( Publisher )
Cox (Bros.) and Wyman ( Printer )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: George Routledge & Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Cox (Brothers and Wyman
Publication Date: 1852
Edition: 2nd ed.
 Subjects
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1852   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852   ( rbbin )
Family stories -- 1852   ( local )
Moral tales -- 1852   ( local )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Family stories   ( local )
Moral tales   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Madame Guizot ; translated from the French, by Mrs. L. Burke ; with illustrations by O.R. Campbell.
General Note: Binding design signed: "JL" (i.e. John Leighton)
General Note: Ills. engraved and signed: Daziels and ORC.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002139
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002230945
oclc - 46323298
notis - ALH1312

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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Page i
        Page ii
    Preface
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Table of Contents
        Page v
    List of Illustrations
        Page vi
    The history of a Louis D'or
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 26a
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
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        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 92a
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
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        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
    Francou
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    M. le Chevalier
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
    Eudoxia, or, legitimate pride
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 176a
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
    Edward and Eugenia; or, the embroidered bag and the new coat
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
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        Page 201
        Page 202
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        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
    Marie; or, the feast of Corpus Christi
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
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        Page 237
        Page 238
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        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 248a
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
    The little brigands
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 288a
        Page 289
        Page 290
    Old Genevieve
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
    Julia; or, the story of Madame Croque-mitaine
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
    Aglaia and Leontine; or, maneuvring
        Page 332
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
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        Page 346
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        Page 348
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        Page 351
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
    Oh! Oh! Oh!
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 364a
        Page 365
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
        Page 369
    Helen; or, the failure
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
        Page 379
        Page 380
    Armand; or, the independent little boy
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
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        Page 397
        Page 398
        Page 399
        Page 400
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 402a
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
    The secret of courage
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
    The dream: An Eastern tale
        Page 417
        Page 418
        Page 419
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
        Page 424
        Page 425
        Page 426
    Back Cover
        Back Cover
    Spine
        Spine
Full Text




























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" Shall I relate to you the history of that particular louis,-all the adventures it has met with,
and to how many uses it has been applied ? "-P. 3.








MORAL


TALES.


MADAME GUIZOT.




TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,

BY

MRS. L. BURKE.


gfot Seronb bitlion,

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY O. R. OAMPBELL.



LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & CO.,
FARRINGDON STREET.
1859.












PREFACE.


THE writings of Madame Guizot are highly
celebrated in France, and though something of
this celebrity may be due to her position as the
wife of an illustrious statesman and historian,
it must also be remembered, that this very posi-
tion was calculated to draw forth a severer
criticism than would usually be passed on one
less favourably circumstanced. But the works
themselves have merits of far too decided an
order not to command attention in any case,
and they especially deserve the notice of English
parents, from their entire freedom from the
exaggeration of sentiment and love of effect, so
often justly complained of in a certain portion
of the Literature of France.
In her Tales, it has been the aim of Madame
Guizot to secure the attention of her youthful
readers by an attractive narrative, in which the
chief personages are children like themselves, and
the events and situations such as might occur
in their own experience, and then to lead their
minds to important conclusions by the natural
course of the story, and without the repulsive inter-
a







PREFACE.


vention of mere lecturing or argumentation; and
we think it will be admitted, that in the present
series, she has been eminently successful. These
Tales are so simple and natural, that they may be
understood by even younger children than they are
actually intended for, while at the same time they
are so full of good sense, and touch so vividly
those springs of action which influence alike
both the young and the old, that many of them
will be read with as much interest, and sometimes
even with as much advantage, by the parent as by
the child. Though perfectly unpretending in
structure and language, the most fastidious taste
will acknowledge them to be the productions of a
highly refined and cultivated mind, while they
equally display all the charms of an affectionate
and parental disposition, conjoined with a lofty,
though a gentle and rational morality.
It is only necessary to observe, in conclusion,
that the Translator has endeavoured to preserve
throughout the simplicity of style which dis-
tinguishes the original, and to convey its meaning
with all the fidelity which the difference of the
two idioms would permit. A few unimportant
expressions have been modified or omitted as
unsuitable to English taste, or likely to convey,
in translation, a different impression from that
actually intended, but beyond this no liberty
has been taken with the text.














CONTENTS.


TnE HISTORY OF A Louis D'on ... ... Page 1
FEsraou ... ... ... ... ... ... 120
M. LE CHEVALIE ... ... ... ... ... 142
EUDOXIA, OR, LEGITIMATE ZPIDE ... ... ... 158
EDWARD AND EUGENIA ... ... ... ... 185
MARIE; OB THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI ... 212
THE LITTLE BRIGANDS .. ... ... ... 272
OLD GENEVIEVE ... ... ... ... ... 291
JULIA.; oR rTH T~AL or MADAME CBOQgUI-ITAIv l 313
AGLAIA AND LEONTINEB; OR MAN(UVBIInG ... 832
OH! OHI Ox! ... ... .. .. ...359
HELBN OR THE FAILUB ... ... ... ... 370
ARMAND; OB THE INDEPENDENT BOY ... ... 881
THE SECrET OF COURAGE ... ... .. 406
THE D EAj ... ... ... ... ... ... 417

















LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


THB HisTORY or A Louis D'ox-Frontispiece.
LITTLB PTBB ... ... ... ... ... Page 27
THE TEMPTATIONS ... ... ... ... ... 92
EUDOXIA ... ... ... ... ... ... 176
MaRIB AND THE CURf... ... ... ... ... 248
THa LIrrLE BRIGANDS ... ... ... ... 288
Louis AND THE OLD SOLDIER ... .. ...'364
ARMAND, THE INDEPENDENT BOY ... ... ... 4
















MORAL TALES.




THE HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.

ERNESTINE was passing with her mother through
the arcades of the Palais Royal, stopping at every
shop, longing for all she saw, now and then sigh-
ing heavily, and at each moment making the
happiness of life consist in the possession of some
attractive object, the remembrance of which was
effaced the moment after by some other, destined
in like manner to be as speedily forgotten. She
was, however, more especially interested by a toy-
shop; not that Ernestine had any wish for dolls,
little carts, or bureaus, in which she could not
even have put her thimble, the drawers were so
small: she was, indeed, too old for that, for sh3
was already eleven; but the sight of a moving
picture, in which were to be seen two men fight-
ing, a dog turning a spit, a laundress, a paviour,
and a stonecutter, inspired her with a fancy, which
appeared to her much more reasonable. She
stopped her mamma in order to examine it more
B







HISTORY OF


leisurely, and her mother was kind enough to
indulge her; but the picture was then motionless.
Ernestine thought it would be delightful to see all
those figures in action, especially the dog turning
the spit, and asked if it would not be possible to
beg of the shopkeeper to wind it up.
"Certainly not," replied Madame de Cideville,
"he did not place it there for the amusement of
the passers-by; he would think I wished to pur-
chase it."
It would surely be very dear ?" said Ernestine.
One louis," replied the shopkeeper, who had
overheard her.
"Oh! mamma," whispered Ernestine, "how
cheap !" for she had imagined that a thing so
beautiful, and so ingenious, must have cost an
enormous sum. How delightful it would be,"
she continued, "to obtain that for one louis!"
There are," said her mother, "many better
ways of employing it;" and she passed on, to the
great vexation of Ernestine, who wondered to her-
self how it could happen that her parents, who
were so rich, did not think it proper to spend a
louis on so charming a thing as a moving picture,
in which a dog was to be seen turning a spit: for
Ernestine, like all children, and upon this point
she was more than usually inconsiderate even for
her age, thought her parents much richer than
they really were; besides, she was not aware that
there is no fortune, however large, which justifies
unnecessary expense. On reaching home, she spoke
to her father about the picture.
Only fancy, papa, it might have been had for
one louis. Oh! how happy I should have been
if I had had a louis of my own!"


2







A LOUIS D'OR.


"You would not surely have spent it upon
that?" replied her father.
"Oh papa, how could I have spent it on any-
thing more delightful ?"
Doubtless," replied M. de Cideville, it would
have been quite impossible to have found anything
more delightful; but you might have found some-
thing more useful."
"For a louis, papa! What is there so very
useful that can be bought for one louis ?"
As she said these words, Ernestine tossed in
her hands her mamma's purse, which Madame de
Cideville, on entering, had laid upon the table.
A louis d'or fell out of it. See," said Ernestine,
as she picked it up, "to what very important use
can this little yellow thing be put?"
"To what use?" replied her father; "if I were
to tell you all the important uses to which it
might be applied, all the trouble that is sometimes
required to gain it, all the danger there is in
spending it badly, all the good it may do to those
who are in want of it, all the evil it may make
them commit in order to obtain it, you would
wonder how any one could be even tempted to
throw it away upon useless objects. Shall I relate
to you the history of that particular louis, all the
adventures it has met with, and to how many
uses it has been applied ?"
"Oh! yes, papa; but how came you to know
all this ?"
"That I will tell you afterwards. At present I
want you to look at it merely; it is not very
ancient, it belongs to the coinage of 1787, so that
it is scarcely five-and-twenty years old. Now,
listen to all that has happened to it."
B 2






HISTORY OF


Ernestine drew a chair to her father's side, that
she might listen more attentively, and M. de
Cideville began thus:-
I will not tell you how much labour and time
were required to extract from the earth the small
quantity of gold of which this louis is composed,
to separate it from the other substances which are
generally found mixed with it, to melt it, to coin
it, &c. It was in the year 1787, that it came for
the first time into the Royal treasury, and that it
was afterwards given out, in payment of a regi-
ment, to which, I know not by what chance,
several months' arrears were due. As the soldiers
received five sous a day, this louis served to dis-
charge what was owing for more than three
months' pay to a poor fellow who, had there been
war, might, during this time, have fought in a
dozen battles, have been killed, or at least wounded,
have died of hunger in a besieged city, perished
at sea, or been eaten by savages, had he been
sent to fight in America. But as it was a time of
peace, he had only caught an inflammation on
the chest, in consequence of having had to mount
guard during one of the severest nights of winter,
and afterwards a cutaneous disease, from having
slept in the hospital in the same bed with a com-
rade who had it. At length he recovered, and as
he was an industrious and well-conducted man,
and had managed by his occupation of barber to
the regiment, to make some little savings, he was
able, notwithstanding what I have mentioned, to
send this louis to his father, a poor peasant, at
that very moment on the point of being imprisoned
for a debt of one louis, which he could not pay.
The creditor was on the spot, threatening him,







A LOUIS D'OR.


and announcing his determination of sending for
the sheriff's officer: the peasant's second son, the
brother of the soldier, furious at seeing his father
thus menaced, had taken up a hatchet with which
he was going to kill the creditor, notwithstanding
the interposition of his mother, who, uttering
piercing cries, rushed forward to prevent him, and
was thrown down by him, without his perceiving
it, so violent was his passion. The person who
had brought the louis from the soldier, arrived in
the midst of this tumult. She had, at first, much
difficulty in making herself heard; but when they
did begin to understand what she was saying,
peace was restored. The father paid his creditor,
the son rejoiced that he had not killed him, and
thus this louis d'or saved a man's life, probably
the lives of two men; for the son would have been
punished for his crime: perhaps, indeed, it saved
a whole family, for the father and mother, who
had only this son to assist them in their labours,
would, in all probability, have died of misery and
grief.
The creditor who had exacted this louis with so
much severity, belonged to the same village, and
was really in absolute want of the money, because,
his harvest having failed, he had not the necessary
provisions for his family during the winter. Had
the soldier's louis not arrived, however, it would
have been useless for him to have put the father
in prison; he would have gained nothing, as the
old man possessed nothing; but with this louis he
bought twenty or five-and-twenty bushels of pota-
toes, which were then very cheap, and these served
to support himself and his children.
The woman, however, from whom he had pur-






HISTORY OF


chased the potatoes, and who belonged to another
village, having the imprudence to cross in the
dark a wood, through which the road to her house
lay, three villains of the neighbourhood in which
she had sold her potatoes, who had seen her receive
the louis, agreed to wait for her in the wood, and
rob her of it. When, therefore, she had pene-
trated into the thicket, they burst upon her,
threw her from her horse, took the louis, and were
about to tear off her clothes, and perhaps kill
her, when, fancying they heard a noise, they ran
off in different directions. He who held the
louis, endeavoured to escape from his companions,
that he might not share it with them; but they
met him that same evening at a tavern where he
was spending it in drink. They demanded their
share, quarrelled, fought, and discovered all their
secrets. They were arrested and sent to the
galleys.. The tavern-keeper interposed in the law-
suit; he wished to have the louis, as it had been
spent at his house; the woman who sold the
potatoes, and who had recovered and again
mounted her horse, also claimed it, as it had
been stolen from her. I know not whether they
were indemnified, but the louis, after having
served as a'proof of the theft, because it was the
only one in the country, none of this particular
coinage having been before introduced there,passed
into the hands of an old lawyer, who quarrelled
with an elderly lady, after a friendship of
thirty years, because she had won it of him at
piquet, during the course of six months, and had
told him, besides, that he did not know how to
play. This old lady sent it as a new-year's gift
to one of her little granddaughters in Paris, who







A LOUIS D'OR.


was saved by it from a very considerable annoy-
ance. Her brother, who, though treated with a
good deal of severity, was, nevertheless, very dis-
obedient and ill-behaved, had taken from her
father's library, notwithstanding his having been
forbidden to touch it, a book which contained
prints; while reading it, he had let an inkstand
fall upon it, and in order that he might not
be suspected, had carried it into the anteroom.
All this he communicated to his sister, as a great
secret, making her solemnly promise to say nothing
about it, so that the servant might be suspected.
As her father was very particular about his books,
the young girl knew that the servant would be
dismissed; still she could not denounce her bro-
ther. The book had been put in the anteroom,
during the evening, and she wept all night at the
thought of what was to happen next day; for she
was extremely kind and just. In the morning,
on awaking, the first thing she beheld was the
louis, which had been put upon her bed as a pre-
sent from her grandmamma; her joy was extreme,
and she immediately sent for a copy of the book,
as her brother, who had also received a louis,
finding himself screened, would not spend his in
this manner. However, she consoled herself, by
thinking of the terrible pain she would have
experienced in seeing an innocent person punished,
without daring to justify him. The book cost
exactly one loqis; this louis passed into the hands
of a librarian, and had a great influence on the
destiny of a little boy, whose history I am about
to relate to you.







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


LITTLE PETER.

LITTLE PETER, when ten years old, had entered
the service of M. Dubourg, a worthy man, who
passed his life in the study of Greek and Latin,
and was so much taken up with what happened
three thousand years ago, that he did not even
think of troubling himself with what was actually
passing around him; for he was consoled for every
inconvenience, provided he could apply to it an
example or a maxim drawn from antiquity. If he
cut his finger, or hurt his foot, his first movement
was an exclamation of impatience, but immedi-
ately afterwards he checked himself and grew
calm, saying, The philosopher Epictetus suffered
his leg to be broken by his master, who was
beating him, without making any complaint be-
yond these words: 'I told you you would break
my leg.'" One day, while dining in town, he
found himself in company with some very ill-bred
military men, who could talk of nothing but the
stories of their regiment, and the number of bot-
tles of wine they had drunk at a mess dinner.
The mistress of the house, in order to make him
some kind of apology for a conversation which
wearied him, said, laughing, "You must allow, M.
Dubourg, that I have made you dine in very bad
company."
"Madame," replied M. Dubourg, Alcibiades
knew how to accommodate himself to every grade
of society, to every company, and even to the
customs of every nation;" and in order to follow





LITTLE PETER.


the example of Alcibiades, he commenced talking
to them of the battle of Salamis, and the feasts
of Bacchus. As to the -rest, M. Dubourg only
dined out six times a year; this was a rule which
he had laid down for himself, however numerous
might be the invitations which he received. The
only irregularity he allowed himself was in the
periods. Thus, for instance, he might one year
dine out on the 6th of March, and the following
year on the 7th or the 10th; it might even happen
that he accepted two invitations in the same
month, though as a general rule he placed them
as nearly as possible at equal distances; but if by
any extraordinary chance, the six dinners were
expended by the month of July, no consideration
would induce him to dine away from home during
the rest of the year. His expenditure was regu-
lated as strictly as his manner of life. With a
very small income, M. Dubourg wished to live in
such a manner as to be perfectly independent of
every one, and especially so as never to be reduced
to the necessity of borrowing, which he regarded
as the greatest of all faults; for," said he, one
can never be sufficiently sure of repaying." Thus,
his dinners were furnished by a restaurateur, who,
for the same sum, brought him every day the
same thing. On one occasion the restaurateur
wished to increase his charge. It is all the same
to me," said M. Dubourg, "I shall take less;
Diogenes was able, by mere philosophy, to bring
himself to drink out of his hand, although he had
still a wooden cup of which he might have made
use." It was probably less out of respect for
philosophy, than from the fear of disobliging a
customer, that the restaurateur, by the means of








HISTORY OF A LOUI8 D'OK.


certain arrangements, agreed to furnish him, for
the old price, a dinner of pretty nearly the same
kind.
The other expenses of the day were calculated
with the same precision, so that, without ever
counting, M. Dubourg, had always a year's in-
come in advance, and was consequently never
inconvenienced by having to wait for his returns.
He had, besides, a sum in reserve for extraordi-
nary cases; such as an illness, an accident, or
even a goblet broken, or a bottle of ink over-
turned, &c. It might also happen, on a rainy
day, that he had to pay for crossing a stream upon
a plank, or, in winter, to give a sous to the little
sweeper who cleaned the crossing; all these ex-
penses fell upon the extraordinary fund, for as to
coaches, M. Dubourg had only hired two during
the whole course of thirty years. One was to
pay a visit to a rich man from whom he had ac-
cepted an invitation to dinner, and to whose house
he was told he must not go splashed. This broke
off their acquaintance, and he never would go
again, however much he was pressed. The other
he took when going to declare his sentiments to a
young lady whom he had been persuaded to fancy
himself desirous of marrying. He took it for
fear that the wind should shake the powder out of
his hair, and it gave him an opportunity of re-
flecting, as he proceeded, on the disorders into
which the passions lead us. On arriving at the
young lady's house, he paid the coachman, re-
turned home on foot, and renounced for ever the
idea of marrying. His reserved fund was always
maintained in the same state, by means of a por-
tion of his income regularly set apart for this pur-






LITTLE PETER.


pose. When it did not happen to be all spent by
the end of the year, M. Dubourg gave the re-
mainder to the poor, otherwise, he neither gave
nor lent; for he said that it is not proper to give
unless we are certain of not being obliged to ask,
and that he who, in order to lend, exposes himself
to the chance of being obliged to borrow, places
his integrity at the mercy of a bad paymaster."
It may be seen then, that with some follies, M.
Dubourg was a man highly to be esteemed for hik
integrity.
Little Peter passed with him the happiest of
lives. Provided he was careful not to arrange the
books that were scattered or heaped together upon
the desk or floor, which M. Dubourg called dis-
arranging them; provided he took care to sweep
the room only once a fortnight, when M. Dubourg
had taken away certain fine editions, which he did
not wish to have exposed to the dust; provided
he was careful never to remove the cobwebs,
that he might not run the risk of upsetting the
busts of Homer, of Plato, of Aristotle, of Cicero,
of Virgil, &c., which adorned the top of the
library, little Peter might do pretty nearly what
he pleased. If he happened to be out at the hour
at which the restaurateur brought, every day,
M. Dubourg's dinner, so that it had to be left at
the door, M. Dubourg having forbidden the man
ever to ring, for fear of interrupting his studies,
and if M. Dubourg found his dinner quite cold,
or partly eaten by the cat, Peter merely excused
himself by saying, that he had been detained by
some business. Then M. Dubourg would say to
him: "It is quite natural, Peter, that you should
occupy yourself principally with your own affairs;







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


you are not my slave; I have not purchased you
with my money : but were you my slave, the case
would be very different." Then, whilst taking his
dinner, he would explain to him the duties and
condition of slaves; and how it was that their
masters possessed over them the power of life and
death, which was indeed but just, since they had
purchased them; "But as for me, Peter," he
would add, "I am not permitted to do you the
least harm, for you are not my slave." And, in
fact, he would not give him a caning, even when
he learned his Latin grammar badly; this was,
nevertheless, the greatest annoyance Peter could
cause M. Dubourg; who, on this point, sometimes
got into violent passions, quite at variance with
his general character; for he could not understand
how it was possible for any one to dislike so excel-
lent a thing as the Latin grammar. This dislike,
however, was very sincere on the part of little
Peter, who had no fancy for study, and who,
though he had learned to read and to write, had
done so much against his will. When M. Du-
bourg, who did not wish any one to live with him
without understanding Latin, first put an Acci-
dence into his hand, his parents were delighted at
the idea of his making, as they thought, little
Peter a learned man like himself; but Peter had
not the slightest wish to resemble M. Dubourg,
who passed the whole day in poring over books;
who often only half dined, for fear of allowing a
Greek passage to escape him, the meaning of which
he was beginning to seize; who took water, scarcely
coloured, because wine disturbed the judgment,
and had, he said, caused Alexander the Great to
commit many crimes;" and who, finally, as his







LITTLE PETER.


only pleasure, walked for two hours every day in
the gardens of the Tuileries, with three other
learned men, who, on their part, met there for the
purpose of conversing together, after the manner
of the Peripaticians.
Little Peter, fancying that Latin led to nothing
better than this, could not perceive in it anything
very attractive, and only learned his Accidence, ill
or well as the case might be, for the sake of pleas-
ing M. Dubourg, who wept with joy when he had
repeated his lesson well. He read, however, with
tolerable pleasure, some books of history which
M. Dubourg had lent him, and he passed the
remainder of his time with his parents, to whom
M. Dubourg had promised to send him for several
hours each day, and to whom Peter, according to
custom, remitted a very considerable portion of
the hundred francs which he annually received as
his wages; for they said that, having consented to
place him with M. Dubourg at an age in which
his labour might have been useful to them in
their trade of braziers, they ought to be indem-
nified, in some other manner, for the expenses
he had occasioned them in his childhood. Little
Peter, better fed and better clothed than he could
have been at home, ought to have considered him-
self very well off; but he was discontented, because
he could not run about like other boys of his age,
and because he had not the free disposal of his
money; in fact he regretted all the follies which
he could not commit, and then the Rudiments
greatly disgusted him. Besides, little Peter
affected to be ambitious; he must make his for-
tune, and that was an impossibility so long as
he remained with M. Dubourg. He related his






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


troubles to a little groom with whom he became
acquainted, from having seen him at the door of
a house, situated between the residence of M.
Dubourg and his father's shop. One day this
groom, whose name was John, told him that if
he wished he would procure him a good situa-
tion, with a young gentleman, a friend of his
master, who was in want of a groom. He would
have to take his meals with the other servants
of the family, as long as the young gentleman
resided with his parents, and receive a hundred
francs a year, as with M. Dubourg, besides a louis
d'or for his new-year's gift, not to mention the
perquisites, which, according to John's account,
would amount to three times as much as his
wages. Peter felt himself greatly tempted by the
louis d'or, which he hoped to keep for himself,
and by the livery, which he thought much finer
than his grey jacket, forgetting, that from his
grey jacket he might pass to a better dress without
the change being remarked, whereas livery is a
costume which once seen upon a person is never
forgotten. John had taught him to groom a
horse, and this pleased him much more than the
Rudiments; he thought it would be very delightful
to have to groom one every day, and, besides, it
seemed to him that he should have his own way
much more. However, he told John that the
thing was impossible; that he could not leave M.
Dubourg; but as he went along he could think of
nothing else. His parents, seeing him thus pre-
occupied, said to him a dozen times, Peter, are
you ill?" He replied that he was not, and left
them much earlier than usual, to go and find
John; not that he knew what answer to give him,







LITTLE PETER,


but simply that he might hear him talk of the
situation, of the louis d'or, of the perquisites, and
of the horse.
The desire he felt to obtain the situation in-
creased at every moment. John told him that
nothing was easier; that he had only to allow him
to speak to M. and Madame Jer6me,-these were
the parents of little Peter; and that he would
make them listen to reason. Peter took him at
his word, and told him to come with him. John
went, and as he was a boy of great determination,
he represented, in glowing colours, to M. and
Madame Jerome, all the advantages of the situa-
tion which he proposed, with the exception,
however, of the louis d'or, to which Peter had
begged him not to allude, as he wished to keep it
for himself. But see, Madame Jer6me," said
John, the master he will have, lays aside his
clothes almost new, and I will wager that, every
year, Peter will be able to bring a suit to M.
Jerome; but that is on condition that you let him
have a little more of his wages."
"We shall see, we shall see," said Madame
Jerome, who was quite captivated with the idea of
her husband's having a smart coat to walk out
with her on a Sunday. M. Jerome urged that
Peter could not leave M. Dubourg, who bestowed
so much pains on his education. "Excellent!"
replied Madame Jerome; no doubt Peter will be
very well off when he is as learned as M. Dubourg.
They say in the neighbourhood, that that is not
the way to get bread." And as Madame Jerome
always made her husband do just what she
pleased, it was agreed that Peter should accept
the situation. John went to his master to solicit







16 HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.
it; the latter mentioned it to his friend, who sent
for little Peter, and as he was without a servant,
it was arranged, that if Peter brought him a good
character from M. Dubourg, he should enter his
service the following day.
Peter returned home to M. Dubourg, whose
dinner had been waiting at the door a quarter of
an hour. He was so bewildered, that in laying
the cloth, he put the chair on the side of the
window instead of on that of the door, a thing
which had not been done for five-and-twenty
years; and he forgot, when giving M. Dubourg
something to drink, that it was an inviolable rule
with him to put the wine into the glass before the
water. His master looked at him with astonish-
ment, saying, "Are you ill, Peter?" He again
replied that he was not, and continued his duties;
but he was completely embarrassed, and the more
so as M. Dubourg spoke to him with even more
than his usual kindness, calling him my child, his
term of endearment for those whom he particu-
larly liked. He said to him, "You will soon be
thirteen years old; this is precisely the age at
which the Romans took the Pretexta. I even
think that I might find instances in which it was
taken earlier, though, indeed, this may have been
in corrupt times. But no matter: I think I can
in conscience, allow you to leave off your grey
jacket. Since you have been with me, I have
made it a rule never to dust the covers of my
books with my sleeve, as I was accustomed to do,
and I have only failed once, and then through
pure forgetfulness. Besides, although this coat
has nearly served its time, for I buy ohe every
three years, it is in a sufficiently good condition







LITTLE PEXT1.


to be done up for you. And," added M. Dubourg,
patting him on the head with an air of gaiety,
"you will look like a little gentleman."
Little Peter felt extremely troubled; this kind-
ness, and then this coat, which was to make him
look like a gentleman, had completely upset all
his ideas. He left the room as soon as he could,
and did not enter it again that evening. The
following morning, Madame Jer6me came to in-
form M. Dubourg that her son wished to leave
him, and to ask him for a character. However
great was his astonishment, he only uttered these
words: Little Peter is not my slave; I have no
right to detain him against his will." He pro-
mised the character, and when Madame Jer6me
was gone, he called Peter, who had not dared to
show himself. "Peter," said he, "if you were
my slave, you would deserve to be beaten with
rods, or even worse, for wishing to leave your
master; but you are not my slave, therefore you
may go."
He said this in a tone of so much feeling, that
little Peter, already much moved, began to cry.
"Why do you wish to leave me, my child ?" con-
tinued M. Dubourg; "you will forget all you
know, with another master."
"Oh! Sir," said Peter, shaking his head, it
is not my lot to be a learned man."
"You are mistaken, Peter; you are mistaken,
my child. If you could once get over the rule of
que retranchw, you would get on very well." And
thereupon he began to cite to him, with great
earnestness, the examples of many celebrated
men, who had at first displayed but little talent,
but who afterwards astonished the world by the







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


extent of their learning. You have the oppor-
tunity of becoming what they were, Peter," ex-
claimed M. Dubourg, and yet you renounce it."
He was so sure of his case, and spoke with so much
enthusiasm, that little Peter, quite carried away,
felt himself on the point of losing his fortune.
"Oh! Sir," he exclaimed, "only consent to
give me one louis more a year, and I will remain
with you all my life."
At these words, the enthusiasm of M. Dubourg
was changed into consternation. If that is what
is required," said he, "it is impossible. You
know yourself, that it is impossible." Peter re-
mained silent and confounded, for he knew that
his master, before engaging him, had refused a
boy who asked him five louis, because this would
have occasioned an irregularity of twenty francs
in the expenses of the year. He retired in con-
fusion. M. Dubourg, without uttering another
word, gave him a favourable character, to which,
however, he considered himself obliged, as a matter
of conscience, to add, that Peter had always shown
but little inclination for the Latin grammar.
Little Peter soon got over his vexation; he
thought himself so fine in his livery, especially
when John had taught him some of his grand
airs, that he was as proud of it as if there had
really been some merit or honour in wearing it,
and when, by chance, he had to drive his master's
cabriolet through the streets, he would not have
exchanged conditions with any of those triumphant
heroes whose history M. Dubourg had made him
read. One day when he was behind this cabriolet,
he saw M. Dubourg in danger of being knocked
down by the horse, and cried out, Take care,
i






LITTLE PETER. 19
take care!" in a louder, though less imperious
tone than usual. M. Dubourg recognized the
voice, and looked up. Peter did not very well
know whether to be pleased or ashamed, that he
should thus be seen by him in all his glory.
M. Dubourg gave a heavy sigh: Is it possible,"
he said, that a person who was beginning to
understand the Latin grammar could mount
behind a cabriolet !" And he continued his way
home, in a thoughtful mood.
As for Peter, he did not think of the circum-
stance very long, he only thought of amusing
himself. John had taught him, according to his
own account, the best means of doing so; that is,
he took him to the public-house, and to places
where cards and billiards were played. There he
lost his money, and when his master paid him his
first quarter's wages, he owed the whole of it.
For three days, he did not dare to go near his
parents; for he knew very well that they would
require their share. At length, John advised him
to say, that he was to be paid only every six
months, assuring him that by that time he would
regain all that he had lost. On the contrary, he lost
more, and only got deeper in debt. At the end of
the six months, he said that he had been mistaken,
and that his master paid only once a year. His
parents began to disbelieve him, and, besides, the
coat that John had promised to M. Jer6me was
not forthcoming. If Peter had received perquisites,
he had sold them to obtain money. Still his debts
increased daily; he dared not pass down the street
in which a certain tavern-keeper lived, because he
had had drink in his house, for which he had
not paid; in the neighboring street a petty
c 2







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


dealer in hardware, from whom he had obtained,
on credit, a chain of false gold, in order to appear
to wear a watch, insulted him every time he saw
him. At every moment, he met comrades to
whom he was still indebted, for money which they
had won from him, while his parents, on the other
hand, were very much displeased with him, and
threatened to go and ask his master whether he
told them the truth. Little Peter knew not
where to hide his head.
One morning his master's mother, who was
almost as precise a person as M. Dubourg, gave
him eighteen francs to carry to a shopkeeper, to
whom she owed the balance of an account, for
some things purchased of him the previous even-
ing. Peter went out, proceeding with great
precaution and looking on every side, as he was
accustomed to do, since he had become constantly
fearful of meeting persons to whom he owed
money. He was absolutely obliged to pass through
the street in which the hardware-dealer lived; he
looked out from a distance, saw him engaged
in conversation, and hoped to pass by unperceived.
But as he approached, the person with whom he
was talking turned round. It was the tavern-
keeper, who called to him, and demanded his
money, in no very polite terms. The hard-
ware-man joined hiln, and they placed them-
selves in the middle of the street, so as to prevent
him from passing, telling him that he must pay
them. Peter glided between the wall and a
carriage, which was standing there, and ran on
with all his might; he heard them cry after him,
that it was well to have good legs when one had
not a good conscience, but that he might spare







LITTLE PETER.


himself the trouble of running away, as they would
catch him again. As he continued his flight,
and was rapidly turning a corner, he ran against
a man who was coming towards him. This man
turned out to be a groom of his acquaintance, to
whom he owed some money, won at cards. He
was half-intoxicated, and seizing little Peter by
the collar, and swearing at him, said that he must
have his money, for the publican demanded it of
him, and that he would drag Peter before him
and beat him until he had paid it. Peter defended
himself with all his strength. A crowd gathered
round, and allowed them to continue. At length
he heard some one cry out, "Villain, leave
off beating that child!" He recognized the voice
of M. Dubourg, and saw him, with uplifted cane,
approaching to his assistance. The fear of being
recognized, gave him even more strength than the
fear of being beaten; he tore himself out of the
hands of the groom, who had likewise turned
round, on hearing himself thus spoken to, and
whom M. Dubourg, with his cane still upraised,
prevented from following Peter.
Peter, who now continued his flight with even
greater rapidity than before, came at last to a
street where he no longer saw any one likely to
recognize him, and sat down trembling, upon
a bench, not knowing what was to become of
him. He had heard the groom also say that he
would catch him, and he had no doubt that he
was watching for his return. On raising his eyes,
he perceived that he was before a tavern to which
his comrades had taken him to play at cards, and
where he had seen one of them win a hundred
francs. His heart beat high at the idea of







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D OR.


gaining as much, and a detestable thought took
possession of his mind. Perhaps in hazarding
thirty sous only of the eighteen francs with which
he had been intrusted, he might regain all that
he owed; but if he happened to lose This re-
flection made him tremble. He went away; then
returned, the temptation increasing every mo-
ment. At last, picking up a stone, he said to
himself, If in throwing this against the wall, I
hit the mark that I see there, it will be a sign
that I shall win !" He placed himself very near
the wall, that he might not miss it, threw the
stone, hit the spot, and went in. He was so ex-
cited, that he scarcely knew what he was about.
Never before had he committed so bad an action,
nor would he have committed it now, doubtless,
had he been in his right mind. But it is one of
the consequences of bad actions that they place us
in circumstances which disturb the judgment, and
deprive it of the strength necessary for directing
our conduct. Had any one, at this moment, told
Peter that he was committing the act of a thief,
he would have trembled from head to foot; yet
such was, nevertheless, the fact; but he did not
think of it. At first he only hazarded thirty
sous, and won: he won again, and fancied himself
already rich. Had he stopped there, he would
have had, if not sufficient to get out of difficulty,
at least enough to satisfy, in some degree, one or
two of his creditors; but by doing this, he would
have been rewarded for his fault, and by a law
of Providence, evil-doers never know how to stop
at the point where their faults would be unattended
with danger. He who, in doing wrong, relies
upon his prudence to protect him from exposure,







LITTLE PETER.


always finds himself deceived; the love of gain, or
of pleasure, ends by dragging him on to the action
which is to bring about his punishment. Peter
was desirous of gaining more, and he lost not only
what he had won, but his stake also. The hopes
that he had at first formed, rendered him only
the more ardent in the game, and, besides, how
was he to replace the thirty sous? He hazarded
thirty more, lost them, then more; at last the
whole eighteen francs are gone. He left the
house in despair, and wandered through the
streets unconsciously, neither knowing where he
was, nor what he was doing, still less what he
intended to do. He heard it strike four o'clock,
and remembered that at five he had to wait at
table. He would be asked by his mistress's mother
whether he had paid the eighteen francs, and
though for some time past he had got into the
habit of telling falsehoods, his conscience accused
him so vehemently, that he felt he should not be
able to reply. However, like a man who throws
himself into a river without knowing whether he
shall get out of it again, he took, mechanically,
the way to the house; but as he approached it,
he fancied he saw the shop girl belonging to the
tradesman, to whom he had been ordered to carry
the eighteen francs, coming out of it. He had
no doubt that she had been to ask for the money,
and feeling that it would be quite impossible for
him to enter again his master's dwelling, he turned
away, and recommended running, without know-
ing whither he went. It was winter: night came
on, and he at last stopped, and sat down upon a
step, and felt that he was without a home.
Nothing in the world would have induced him to







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


return to his parents, and it would have been
equally impossible for him to expose himself to
the look of the honest M. Dubourg. The cold in-
creased with the night, and it began to freeze rather
severely. Peter had eaten nothing since the
morning, and though his heart was oppressed, yet
hunger began to make itself felt at last. All he
could do, however, was to weep; for what resource
was left to him in the world? At times this
hunger, cold, suffering, and despair weighed so
heavily upon him, that he would start up, and
run away, whither he knew not, but determined to
find some spot where he should suffer less. Then
again, he would suddenly stop; for he felt that he
had not the courage to show himself anywhere, or
to endure the questions or the looks of any one;
so he would slowly return, sit down again, and
weep anew, while the cold wind, blowing upon his
face, froze up the traces of his tears.
At last, overcome by fatigue and exhaustion, he
fell asleep, or rather he became numbed; his
state was a kind of half-sleep, which, although
leaving him no distinct ideas, still left him the
consciousness of the cold and hunger, and grief.
In the middle of the night, he was awakened by
some one who shook him violently. He opened
his eyes, and saw around him several armed men.
It was the watch, who finding a child asleep in
the street, wanted to know why he was there,
and to whom he belonged. Peter had at first
some difficulty in collecting his ideas, and when
he had succeeded in doing so, he only felt the
more vividly the impossibility of replying. He
dared not say to whom he belonged. He cried,
and entreated them to leave him there, as he







LITTLE PETER.


was doing no harm to any one. They would not
listen to him, but told him that he must go to
the guardhouse. One of them took him by the
shoulders, and at he resisted, another gave him a
blow across the legs to make him proceed. Peter
walked on trembling. The snow began to fall so
heavily, that they could scarcely see their way,
and added to this, the wind was so strong, that it
extinguished all the lamps, and drove the snow
full into their faces. At length, the soldier who
held little Peter had his cap blown off by a violent
gust, and left him in order to run after it. The
others, blinded by the snow, got dispersed; they
sought each other; they called out. As to Peter,
stupified by the wind, the snow, and all that had
happened to him, he knew not where he was,
what he was doing, or what he ought to do.
Motionless on the spot where he had been left, he
heard the soldiers inquiring for him, and asking
whether he had not escaped. This brought him
to himself, and finding one of them approach-
ing, he drew back softly, in order to get as near
as possible to the wall. As he retired farther
and farther, he was still unable to feel the wall,
and at last perceived that he had entered a
bye-street, which the thickness of the snow had
prevented him from seeing. He then walked
faster, and soon ceasing to hear the soldiers, he
regained a little courage, and after many wind-
ings, he at last stopped, and crouched down at
the corner of an old building.
After remaining there some time, he again fell
asleep, and when he awoke day was breaking. He
tried to get up, but the cold and the uneasy pos-
ture in which he had remained, had so benumbed







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'ORI


his limbs, that he could not move a step, nor
even stretch his legs; while the violent effort which
he made in order to move forward, threw him to
the ground. In falling, his head&truck the curb-
stone so violently that he become unconscious.
He did not, however, altogether faint, and after a
short time he had a confused perception of per-
sons speaking and acting around him. It also
seemed to him that he was taken up and carried
away; but all was so indistinct that he had no
proper consciousness of anything. He had neither
any fear of what was going to happen to him, nor
any wish to be better, nor any recollection of
what he had done. He came to himself, however,
by degrees, and his first sensation was a violent
oppression of the heart. Poor little fellow! this is
a feeling which he will henceforth always expe-
rience, as often as he calls to mind what he has
done. At present he does not call this to mind,
he simply feels that he has committed a terrible
fault. He also feels that he is suffering in every
part of his body, but, at the same time, he per-
ceives that he is in a bed, and in a room; at
length he regained complete consciousness and
saw that he wa~ at M. Dubourg's, and that M.
Dubourg and his mother Madame Jer6me were by
his side.
His first impulse on perceiving them was to
hide his head in the bedclothes and weep. As
soon as his mother saw that he was conscious, she
asked him what had happened to him, and why he
had fled from his master. She told him that,
finding he did not return during the day, they
had sent at night to inquire for him at her house;
that this had made her very uneasy, and that she









































































She had found him at the corner of the street, totally insensible, and surrounded by several
women of the neighbourhood.-P. 27.







LITTLE PETER.


had gone to his master's early in the morning,
and learning that he had not slept there, she had
run in great terror to M. Dubourg, who told her
that he had not seen him; and finally, that on
leaving his house, she had found him at the
corner of the street stretched upon the ground,
totally insensible, and surrounded by several
women of the neighbourhood,who were exclaiming,
" Oh! it is little Peter! What can have hap-
pened to him! What will Mother Jer6me say !
He must have been.drinking, and got intoxicated,
and the cold has seized him." At the same time,
the woman who attended to M. Dubourg's house
had gone to tell him the news, and he in great
uneasiness came out in his dressing-gown and
nightcap, a thing which had never happened
to him before in the whole course of his life.
At the conclusion of this recital, intermingled
with reproofs, Madame Jer6me renewed her ques-
tions; but little Peter wept without replying.
The physician who had been sent for, now arrived,
and told them that he must not be tormented, as
a severe fever was coming on; and indeed a
violent excitement soon succeeded to the weakness
from which he had just recovered. His fault
represented itself to him in the most frightful
colours, and threw him into fits of despair, of
which they were at a loss to conjecture the cause.
At length, when Madame Jer6me had gone home
to inform her husband of what had happened, and
of the necessity there was of her remaining to
nurse Peter, he raised himself in his bed, and
throwing himself on his knees, with clasped hands
called M. Dubourg, and said to him, "Oh! M.
Dubourg, I have committed a great crime."







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


M. Dubourg, thinking him delirious, told him to
keep himself quiet, and lie down again. No,
M. Dubourg," he repeated, I have committed a
great crime." And then with the quickness and
volubility which the fever gave him, he related all
that had passed, but with so much minuteness of
detail, that it was impossible to consider what he
said as the effect of delirium. M. Dubourg made
him lie down again, and stood before him pale and
shocked.
Oh! Peter, Peter!" said he at last, with a
deep sigh, "I had so earnestly hoped to have been
able to keep you with me!"
Peter, without listening to him, uttered aloud all
that the torments of his conscience dictated; he
said that his master's mother would have him
apprehended, and in moments when his reason
wandered more than usual, he declared that the
guard were in pursuit of him. M. Dubourg, after
reflecting for some time, went to his secretary,
counted his money, closed his desk again, and
Madame Jer6me returning at the same moment,
he related to her what he had just learned, adding,
" Madame Jer6me, little Peter, according to his
own account, has committed a great crime, which
prevents my keeping him with me as I had hoped
to do, for I had provided the necessary means.
My mind has never been easy, from the day I saw
him behind a cursed cabriolet. He had offered to
remain with me for one louis more a year, and I
thought of procuring it by my labour. You see,
Madame Jer6me, how valuable and profitable a
thing is learning. I had indeed made it a rule
never to publish anything; but I considered that
there were works which might be written, without







LITTLE PETER.


compromising one's tranquillity. I have composed
an almanac, in which I have recorded the feasts
and epochs of the year among the ancients. It
cannot but be very interesting to know, that on
such a day began the Ides of March, or, as the
case may be, the Feasts of Ceres. I demanded of
the publisher one louis for it, that being all I
stood in need of. He gave it immediately, and
will give me the same every year, for a similar
almanac." M. Dubourg was going on to explain
to Madame Jer6me how he would manage to
insure accuracy, notwithstanding the irregularity
of the ancient calendar; but," said he, it is
not necessary for you to know all this:" and then
added, I had intended this louis for little Peter.
I can dispose of it in his favour, and the more
easily as we are now at the end of the year, and I
have in my reserved fund more than sufficient to
defray the expenses of his illness. I was afraid at
first that I should be encouraging vice; but I have
since considered that the evil is now done, and
that it is the innocent who has suffered from it.
Take, then, this louis, Madame Jer6me, and carry
the eighteen francs to the shopkeeper." This,
said M. de Cideville, was the precise louis d'or
whose history I am relating to you.
Madame Jer6me, he continued, had been wait-
ing anxiously for the end of this discourse, which
she did not very well understand, but which
she had not ventured to interrupt. As she
was a very honest woman, the conduct of her son
had so overwhelmed her with grief and shame,
that she almost threw herself at the feet of M.
Dubourg, to thank him for affording her the
means of repairing it without being obliged to






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


pay a sum very considerable for a poor woman
burdened with a family. She hastened out, though
not without addressing some reproaches to her
son, who scarcely understood them, and ran to
pay the shopkeeper. As it happened, no in-
quiries had been made of him, nor had he, on his
part, sent for the money. Peter, therefore, had
been mistaken, and as yet nothing was known
about the affair. His mother, on her return,
found him better; the fever had begun to abate,
and he was also comforted by the intelligence she
brought. But if he had escaped exposure, he
could not escape from the remorse of his own
conscience, or from the reproaches of his mother,
who was inconsolable. Her lamentations, how-
ever, distressed him less than the cold and serious
manner of M. Dubourg, who no longer ap-
proached his bed, or spoke to him, but took care
that he should want for nothing, without ever
directly asking him what he wished to have.
Little Peter had, more than once, shed bitter
tears on this account, and to this grief was added,
when he began to recover, the fear of returning
to his father, who had come to see him during his
illness, and who, being a man of great integrity, had
severely reprimanded, and even threatened him.
Peter entreated his mother to ask M. Dubourg
to keep him. M. Dubourg at first refused;
but Madame Jer6me having promised him that
Peter should not go out, and that he should study
the whole of the day, he went to consult his
Xenophon, and saw that Socrates in his youth
had been addicted to every vice; there was reason
therefore, for hoping that labour would reform
little Peter, as it had reformed Socrates.







LITTLE PETER.


Peter was obliged to keep his word. His ill-
ness had left a debility which long continued, and
he was further restrained from going out by the
fear of meeting those to whom he owed money.
Study being his only amusement, he ended by
becoming fond of it : and as he possessed good
abilities, his progress was such as to give his
master much satisfaction. But the honest M.
Dubourg was ill at ease with Peter, and no longer
spoke to him with his accustomed familiarity.
Peter felt this, and was unhappy: then he re-
doubled his efforts to improve. One day, having
made a translation which gave M. Dubourg great
satisfaction, the latter promised, that if he con-
tinued to improve, he would have the coat, which
he still kept for him, arranged. Peter, after much
hesitation, begged to be allowed to sell it instead,
so that its price, together with the louis which he
was to receive at the end of the year, might serve
to pay a part, at least, of his debts. M. Dubourg
consented, and was greatly pleased that this idea
had occurred to him. While waiting, therefore,
for two years, until the new coat had served its
time, he continued to wear his old grey jacket,
which he was obliged to mend almost every day,
and the sleeves of which had become about four
inches too short. But during this time he suc-
ceeded in completely gaining the friendship of M.
Dubourg, who, having received a small legacy,
employed it in increasing the salary of Peter,
whom he elevated to the rank of his secretary.
From this moment he treated him as a son; but
Peter, who was now called M. Jer6me, could not
perceive, without profound grief, that whenever
any allusion was made in his presence to a defect







HISTORY OF


of probity, M. Dubourg blushed, cast down his
eyes, and did not dare to look at him. As for
himself, whenever anything was mentioned that
could have reference to his fault, he felt a severe
pang shoot through his heart. When money was
concerned, he was timid, always trembling, lest
his honesty should be suspected. He did not
dare, for several years, to propose to M. Dubourg
that he should spare him the trouble of carrying
the money to the restaurateur at the end of each
month. The first time his master intrusted
him with it, he was delighted, but still felt hu-
miliated by the very pleasure he experienced.
However, he became accustomed to it: a life of
steady honesty has at last restored to him the
confidence which every man of honour ought to
possess; but he will not dare to relate this history
to his children for their instruction, until he has
become so old, and so respectable, that he is no
longer the same person as little Peter, and he will
always remember,that to M.Dubourg, and hislouis
d'or, he owes the preservation of his character.


CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OP A LOUIS D'OR.
ONE day after breakfast, M. de Cideville having
a leisure hour, Ernestine begged him to continue
the history of the louis d'or, and he began thus:-
The shopkeeper to whom Madame Jer6me
had carried the louis, was just going out as she
gave it to him. He took it, returned her in
change a six-franc piece, which was lying on the
counter, gave the louis to his wife to be locked
up, and departed. As the woman was on the point







A LOUIS D'OB.


of putting it by, she heard her little girl, a child
of two years old, screaming so violently in the
adjoining room, that she thought she must have
fallen into the fire. She ran to her, and found
that she had only caught her finger in a door.
Having succeeded in pacifying her, she returned
to lock up the louis, but it was not to be found.
Her shopwoman, Louisa, searched for it also, with
great uneasiness. No one had entered the shop;
she had been alone, and she felt persuaded that
her mistress, who did not much like her, and who
often quarrelled with her without just cause,
would accuse her of having taken it: nor was she
mistaken. It was in vain that she asserted her
innocence, that she emptied her pockets, and even
undressed herself in the presence of her mistress,
to prove to her that she had not concealed it.
She was not to be convinced, and she was the
more enraged from knowing that her husband
would be angry with her for not having locked it
up immediately. On his return, she related what
had happened, and expressed her confidence that
Louisa had taken the money. He was not so sure
of that, however, for he knew her to be an honest
girl; but he was out of temper, and Louisa suffered
for it, and was dismissed.
She went away heart-broken, yet carrying with
her, without being aware of it, the louis d'or in
her shoe. At the moment that her mistress, hear-
ing the cries of her little girl, ran to her aid, she
laid the louis upon the counter, on which Louisa
had mounted for the purpose of arranging a band-
box, placed very high. She wore thick shoes,
to which, in order to render them still stronger,
and better suited for keeping out the damp, she







HISTORY OF


had had another sole put; but this sole, which
was not very good, was worn out at the side, and
Louisa, making a false step upon the counter with
these heavy shoes, the louis was forced into the
opening between the two soles. She felt, as she
descended, something catch at her foot, but
imagined it to be a nail coming out of her shoe,
and as she was very active, and did not willingly
interrupt anything upon which she was engaged,
she merely struck her foot against the bottom of
the counter, in order to drive in what incon-
venienced her. This made the louis enter entirely
into the opening, and as high heels were then
worn, the action of the foot made it slip towards
the toe, where it was no longer felt, and Louisa
wandered through Paris in search of a new situa-
tion, carrying with her everywhere this louis
which had driven her from her old one.
Not having a character from her master, she
could not obtain an engagement. She was an
orphan, and had no relations in Paris, so that to
avoid perishing from want, she was obliged to
station herself at the corner of a street, as a
mender of old clothes. This occupation was a very
painful one for Louisa, who had been well brought
up, her parents having been respectable trades-
people, who had failed, and died in poverty. It
had required all the gentleness of her disposition
to enable her to live with the wife of the
shopkeeper, by whom she was badly treated, but
as she was a well-conducted girl, she endured
everything in order to continue in a respectable
situation. Now, she was compelled to hear the
oaths of the street people, and the talk of
drunkards, who often addressed her in a very dis-








A LOUIS D'OR.


agreeable manner, to say nothing of the cold, the
wind, and the rain, from which she suffered
greatly; but as her occupation did not require
much walking, she had not worn out her shoes,
so that she always carried about with her the
louis which had occasioned her so much harm.
One day, in spring, when the sun had been
very warm, there came on suddenly a terrible
storm, which, in a few minutes, swelled the ken-
nels to such a degree, that in several places they
touched the walls of the street. Louisa had left
her station to take refuge under an opposite door-
way, where she found herself by the side of a
lady, dressed in a manner which indicated
affluence. She was not young, appeared to be in
bad health, and was much embarrassed about
having to cross, in her thin shoes, the deep pools
of water formed before her. She was not in the
habit of going on foot; but this morning, the
weather being very fine, and the church in which
she usually heard mass, being near her residence,
she had not ordered her carriage in going to it.
Having found it, however, very full, she went to
another at some distance, and while there, had
sent her servant on an errand. She had returned
alone, had been overtaken by the storm, and was
much afraid that the damp would bring on a
severe cold, from which she was but just recovered.
"If I had only some other shoes!" she said.
Louisa very timidly offered hers.
But what will you do ?" asked the lady.
Oh, I can go barefoot," replied Louisa; "but
you, madam, cannot possibly go in those shoes."
And Louisa really believed what she said, for
poor people, accustomed to see us surrounded
D2







HISTORY OF


with so many conveniences, which they manage
to do without, sometimes imagine it would be
impossible for us to support things which they
endure as a matter of course. But although they
entertain this opinion, we ought not to share
it. We must not persuade ourselves that their
skins are much less sensitive than our own, nor
that they are constituted in a different manner to
ourselves; but, accustomed to pain, they do not
exaggerate it, and thus endure, without much
suffering, things which we should think it impos-
sible for us even to attempt, and which, neverthe-
less, would not do us more harm than they do
them.
However, continued M. de Cideville, in the
present case, it was not so. Louisa was young,
and in good health, the lady aged, and an invalid.
It was quite reasonable, therefore, that she should
accept Louisa's offer, and she did so. Louisa
making many apologies for not being able to pre-
sent her shoes in better condition, accompanied
her barefoot, and supported her, as she could not
walk very well in such large and heavy shoes.
When they reached the lady's residence, she made
Louisa go in, in order to dry herself, and at the
same time to reward her for the service she had
rendered her. She also ordered her shoes to be
dried before they were returned to her. They
were placed near the kitchen fire; Louisa likewise
seated herself there, and while talking with the
servants, the kitchenmaid took one of the shoes in
order to clean it, and accidentally raised up the
outer sole which the water had almost entirely
detached. The louis d'or fell out. For a moment
Louisa was as much astonished as the rest, but







A LOUIS D'OR.


she suddenly uttered a cry of joy, for she re-
membered that something had entered her shoe
on the day she had been accused of taking the
louis. She related her story, and the servants,
greatly astonished, went and told it to their mis-
tress. Louisa entreated the lady to give her a
certificate of what had happened, that she might
get a character from her master, and thus be able
to obtain a situation. The lady caused inquiries
to be made, not only at the shopkeeper's, where
she learned that Louisa's account was entirely
true, but also in the neighbourhood, where she
had always been regarded as a very honest girl,
and where no one believed that she had stolen the
louis. The lady also perceived by her manners
and conversation, that she was much superior to
the station in which she had found her; she there-
fore took her into her service, in order to assist
her lady's maid, who was old and infirm. She
sent to the shopkeeper the amount of his louis
in silver, and gave to Louisa the louis d'or, which
bad occasioned her so much injury, and so much
good.
As often happens with uneducated persons,
Louisa was superstitious. She imagined that her
good fortune was attached to this louis d'or,
which she had so long carried about her, without
being aware of it. She therefore would not think
of spending it, but still continued to carry it about
her. It happened that her mistress while going
to her country seat, which lay at some consider-
able distance from Paris, turned aside, for a few
leagues, in order to spend a day with a friend,
whose house was nearly on her route. She left
Louisa at the post-house, with her luggage, where






HISTORY OF


she was to take her up the following morning. As
Louisa had nothing to do, she seated herself upon
a bench before the door which faced the high
road. Presently she beheld a young man riding
up to the house, at full speed. He rode so rapidly
that the postilion, by whom he was accompanied,
could not keep pace with him, and was obliged to
follow at some considerable distance behind. He
was pale, apparently much fatigued, and also
greatly agitated. He alighted from his horse, and
ordered another to be saddled immediately; the
ostlers could not make sufficient haste. As he was
preparing to remount, he sought for money to
defray his expenses, but he had not his purse. He
searched all his pockets, and then perceived that at
the last stage but one, where he had been obliged
to change everything, in consequence of his horse
having thrown him into a ditch full of water, he
had forgotten his portmanteau, his purse, and his
watch. He was greatly distressed and agitated.
" What!" he exclaimed, not a louis upon me !
A louis would save my life." He inquired for the
master of the inn, and was told that he was in the
fields, and that there was no one in the house
except his son, a lad of fifteen, and some pos-
tilions." Can you not," he said, find one
louis to lend me ? I will give you a cheque for ten."
The men looked at each other without replying.
He told them he was the Count de Marville, and
that he was going two leagues further on. His
wife was lying there ill, very ill, without a phy-
sician, and surrounded by persons who did not
understand her constitution, and who were
giving her remedies quite unsuitable to her
state. The news had reached him at Paris: he
had consulted his physician, and in order not to






A LOUIS D'OR.


lose time, had taken post horses and travelled
night and day. His servant, too weak to follow
him, had been obliged to stop by the way, and as
for himself, he had just travelled a double post, so
that he was four leagues from the place where he
had left his luggage, and had not a single louis to
continue his journey, and save, perhaps, the life
of his wife. But to all this, the men made no
reply; they merely dispersed; the very agitation
of the count destroyed their confidence in what he
said. Besides, the postilion who had accompanied
him, and to whom he had promised a liberal
reward, in order to induce him to ride a double
stage, was extremely dissatisfied, at not being even
paid his hire, and complained, swore, and threat-
ened to appeal to the mayor of the place. M. de
Marville thought of nothing but the delay, and in
his anxiety it seemed to him that the loss of a
single hour might be fatal to his wife. Louisa
heard all this; she knew the name of de Marville,
having heard it mentioned by her mistress. She
thought of her louis; it was the only money she
had about her, for in travelling she placed the
little she possessed in the care of her mistress,
except the louis, which she could not part with.
She thought it very hard to give it up: still it had
drawn her from a state of so much misery, that
she felt it would be a sin not to allow another to
be benefited by it when it was in her power to do
so. Taking it, therefore, out of the little pocket
in which she always carried it, she offered it to
M. de Marville, who, greatly delighted, asked her
name, and promised that she should hear from
him; then paying the postilion, and remounting
his horse, he rode off; while Louisa, though she
did not repent of what she had done, felt, never.







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


theless, a little uneasy, and the more so as the
people of the inn assured her that she would never
see her money again.
The following day, her mind was set at rest, by
the return of her mistress, who was acquainted
with M. de Marville, and had learned that his
wife was in fact lying very ill, at the distance of
two leagues from where they were. Louisa's sole
anxiety now was to regain her louis, which was
still at the post-house where M. de Marville had
changed it, and it became henceforward more
precious than ever in her estimation. M. de
Marville did not forget what he owed her. He
had found his wife extremely ill, and whether
from the good effects of his treatment, or from
some other cause, he had the delight of seeing
her restored to health. He attributed her cure to
Louisa, and as he was extremely attached to his
wife, he considered himself under great obliga-
tions to one whom he regarded as her preserver.
He went to see her at the seat of her mistress,
repaid the louis, and also settled upon her a small
annuity. On this occasion, his man-servant, who
had some property, became acquainted with Louisa.
He married her, and shortly after entered into the
service of the same mistress. As he was a reason-
able man, he wished her to spend the louis, for he
knew that it was ridiculous to imagine that any-
thing of this kind could bring good fortune; but
Louisa would only consent to part with it, in
payment of the first two months' nursing of her
first child. The nurse of this child was a tenant
of M. d'Auvray, the father of a little girl called
Aloise. To him she gave the louis, when paying
the rent of her farm, and you shall presently see
what use was made of it.





THE RENT.


THE RENT.

ALOISE had for some time been very uneasy.
Janette, the woman who used to bring her every
other day a bunch of fresh chickweed for her
bird, had not been near her for a whole week,
and each time she thought of it, she said to her
nurse, "I am sure my poor little Kiss will be ill,
for want of some chickweed, for there is no shade
in his cage when he is at the window, and the
sun is shining over his head." And Aloise actually
feared that her bird would receive a coup de soleil.
This fear, indeed, did not often occupy her
thoughts, only whenever she went to talk to Kiss,
she would say, "This naughty Janette, will she
never come?"
Janette arrived at last, and Aloise, when she saw
her, gave her a good scolding, and hastily seizing a
bunch of chick-weed, and without giving herself
the time to unfasten it, she tore a handful, and
carried it to her bird, saying, "Poor Kiss! the
sun is dreadfully hot!"
"Oh yes! Miss," said Janette, "it is indeed
very hot, especially when one has just recovered
from a fever."
"Have you had a fever?" asked Alo'ise, whose
whole attention was now turned to Janette, and
whom, indeed, she perceived to be very much
altered. Janette told her that her illness had
been caused by grief, for her rent was due, and
she was unable to pay it, and her landlord had
threatened to turn her and her three children out
of doors, and take away her bed, which was all
she possessed in the world.






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


"What," said Aloise, have you no chairs?"
Janette replied that she had had two wooden
stools and a table, but that during the winter
before last, which was that of 1789, she had been
forced to burn them, for the cold was so intense,
that one morning she found one of her children
almost dead. A short time previously, she had
lost her husband, after a long illness, which had
exhausted all their resources, so that this was the
third quarter's rent which she had been unable to
pay. Her landlord had given her some further
indulgence, but now told her, that if she did not
pay by the next quarter, both she and her children
should be turned into the street. And well will
it be for us," continued Janette, "ifwe'find there
a little straw on which to lie down and die, for we
are too miserable to be taken in by any one."
Saying this, she began to cry, and Aloise, who
was extremely kind and compassionate, felt ready
to cry also. She asked Janette if her rent was
very high. It was six francs a quarter. Three
quarters were due, a louis would, therefore, be
owing in July; and this was a sum which she
could not possibly hope to pay, for her only means
of living was the sale of her chickweed, together
with a few flowers in summer, and some baked
apples in the winter, all which was scarcely suffi-
cient to find food for her children. She added
that during her illness, they must have died of
hunger, had it not been for the charity of some
neighbours, and that she was now hastening home
in order to get them some bread, as they had
eaten nothing all day. Aloise took from her
drawer forty sous, which was all that remained of
her month's allowance, for as she was very care-






THE RENT.


less, she was never rich. These she gave to
Janette, and the nurse added twenty more, thus
making in all half a crown. The nurse also gave
her, for the children, some old shoes which Aloise
had cast aside, and poor Janette went away
delighted, forgetting for the time her unhappy
condition, for the poor sometimes endure such
pressing hardships, that when they find themselves
for a moment freed from them, the happiness
which they experience prevents them from think-
ing of the misery which awaits them.
After Janette's departure, Aloise and her nurse
continued talking of her for a long time. Aloise
would gladly have saved from her allowance eight
francs a month, in order to make up the louis re-
quired by Janette, but this was impossible; she
had lost her new gloves, and was obliged to buy
others; a new pair of prunella shoes was to be
brought home to her on the first of the month, to
replace those she had spoiled by imprudently
walking in the mud; besides, her thimble, her
needles, her scissors, her thread, all of which she
was constantly losing through her want of order,
formed a source of considerable expense. Although
she was eleven years of age, nothing had been
able to cure her of this want of order, a defect
which resulted from great vivacity, and from the
fact, that when once an idea had taken possession
of her mind, it so completely engrossed it that,
for the moment, it was impossible for her to think
of anything else. At present, it was Janette who
occupied her thoughts. She would have been
delighted to have had a louis to give her by the
time her rent became due, but she did not dare to
ask her parents for it, for she saw that, without






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


being in any way embarrassed, they nevertheless
lived with a certain degree of economy; besides,
she knew them to be so kind, that if they could
do anything, they would do it without being
asked. When she went down to her mother's
room, she spoke of Janette, of her grief for her,
and of her desire to assist her. Twenty times she
went over her calculations aloud, in order to let it
be understood that she could not do so out of her
allowance. Twenty times she repeated, "This
poor Janette says that she must die upon straw,
if she cannot pay her rent." Her mother,
Madame d'Auvray, was writing, and her father
was occupied in looking over some prints; neither
of them appeared to hear her. Aloise was in
despair, for when she once wished for anything,
she had no rest until she had either obtained it,
or forgotten it. She was told that her drawing-
master was waiting for her. Quite taken up with
Janette and her grief, she left, as was almost in-
variably the case with her, her work upon the
chair, her pincushion under it, her thimble on the
table, and her scissors on the ground. Her
mother called her back.
"Aloise," said she, "will you never put away
your work of your own accord, and without my
being obliged to remind you of it?" Alo'ise re-
plied mournfully that she was thinking of some-
thing else.
"Of Janette, was it not?" said her father.
"Well, then, since you are so anxious to get her
out of trouble, let us make a bargain. Whenever
you put away your work without being reminded
of it by your mother, I will give you ten sous; in
forty-eight days, therefore, you will be able to






THE RENT.


gain the louis, which will not be required by
Janette for three months."
Oh! how delighted was Aloise. She threw
herself into her father's arms; her heart was
freed from a heavy load.
But," said M. d'Auvray,."in order that the
agreement may be equal, it is necessary that you
should pay something whenever you fail. It
would be just to demand from you ten sous, but,"
added he, smiling, "I do not wish to make too
hard a bargain for poor Janette; I will, therefore,
only require of you five sous; but mind, I shall
show no mercy, and you must not expect a frac-
tion of the louis, unless you gain the whole.
Here it is," said he, as he took it out of his pocket
and placed it in a drawer of Madame d'Auvray's
secretary; "now try to gain it."
Aloise promised that it should be hers; her
parents seemed to doubt it. It was, however,
agreed, that Madame d'Auvray and Aloise should
each keep an account, in order to secure accuracy.
And Aloise was so pleased, and so eager to com-
municate the arrangement to her nurse, that she
ran out of the room without putting away her
work. Fortunately, she remembered it at the
door; she ran back again, seized upon it, and
beheld her father laughing heartily. "At all
events," she exclaimed, "mamma did not remind
me of it," and for once the excuse was admitted.
For some time Aloise was very exact, and the
more so as she had related the affair to Janette,
who without daring to remind her of it, now and
then dropped a word concerning her landlord,
who was a very severe man. During a whole
month the work had only been forgotten six times;







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


thus, on twenty-four days, Aloise had gained her
ten sous, but as there were six days of negligence,
during each of which she had lost five sous, there
remained six times five, or three times ten sous,
to be deducted from what she had gained; she
had, therefore, secured but twenty-one, out of the
forty-eight days.
But Aloise did not reckon in this manner. As
her carelessness extended to everything, she
sometimes forgot that on the six days on which
she had not put away her work, she had not
gained her ten sous; at other times she forgot
that on these days she had lost five also, so that
she never considered that she had lost more than
five or ten sons, on those days on which her neg-
ligence had really made her lose fifteen. At the
end of the month, her mother had the greatest
difficulty in the world to make her understand
this calculation, and when she did understand it,
she forgot it again. She had begun to keep her
account in writing, and then had neglected it;
she begged her mother to let her examine hers;
she did so, at the same time warning her that
it was for the last time. Aloise recommended
writing, but lost her paper; she then tried to
reckon mentally, but got confused in her calcu-
lations. Unfortunately, also, the hour for her
dancing lesson, which she took in her mother's
apartment, was changed, and now fell at the time
that Janette called; she therefore saw her less
frequently, and began to forget her a little: never-
theless the orderly habits which she had begun to
contract were tolerably well kept up. She often put
her work away, but she also frequently neglected
it: still it seemed to her that she had attended to






THE RENT.


it so many times, that she felt quite easy on the
subject, and did not even think of examining the
day of the month.
One morning she rose extremely happy; she was
going to spend a day in the country. The party
had been long arranged, and Aloise had drawn a
brilliant picture of the pleasure which she antici-
pated from it. The weather, too, was delightful.
She had just finished dressing, when a man
came to her room in the garb of a workman; he
wore a leather apron and a woollen cap, which he
scarcely raised as he entered. He appeared very
much out of humour, and said in a rough manner
to the nurse, that he had come on account of the
woman who had served her with chick-weed for
her birds; that he was her landlord; that she
owed him four quarters' rent, which she was
unable to pay, and had entreated him to go and
see if any one there could assist her. It is not
my business," he added in a surly tone, "to go
about begging for my rent. However, I was
willing to see if anything was to be got. If not,
let her be prepared; to-morrow, the eighth of
July, she must quit. At all events, her moving
will not be a very heavy one !"
Aloise trembled in every limb, at finding her-
self in the same room with this terrible landlord,
of whom she had so often heard Janette speak,
and whose manner was not calculated to tran-
quillize her fears. Not daring to address him her-
self, she whispered to her nurse, that she would
go and ask her mamma for the louis.
"But have you gained it? said the nurse.
"Oh! certainly," said Aldise, and yet she began
to be very much afraid she had not. She drew







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


herself in as much as possible, in order to pass
between the door and the man who stood beside
it, and who terrified her so much that she would
not have dared to ask him to move. She ran
quite flushed and breathless into her mother's
room, and asked for the louis.
But does it belong to you?" said her mother.
"I do not think it does."
Oh, mamma," replied Aloise, turning pale, I
have put away my work more than forty-eight
times."
"Yes, my child, but the days on which you
have not put it away?"
"Mamma, I have put it away very often, I
assure you."
"We shall see;" and Madame d'Auvray took
the account from her secretary. "You have put
it away sixty times," said she to her daughter.
"You see, mamma!" cried Aloise, delighted.
"Yes, but you have neglected it thirty-one
times, for the month of May has thirty-one
days."
"Oh mamma, that does not make ....."
My dear! thirty-one days, at five sous a day,
make seven livres fifteen sous, which are to be
deducted from the thirty francs that you have
gained. Thus thirty-five sous are still wanting to
complete the louis." Aloise turned pale and
clasped her hands.
Is it possible," she said, that for thirty-five
sous ......"
My child," said her mother, you remember
your agreement with your father."
"Oh! mamma! for thirty-five sous and this
poor Janette!"






THE RENT.


You knew very well what would be the con-
sequence," said her mother; "I can do nothing
in the matter."
Aloise wept bitterly. Her father coming in,
asked the reason. Madame d'Auvray told him,
and Aloise raised her hands towards him with
supplicating looks.
My child," said M. d'Auvray, when I make
a bargain I keep to it, and I require that others
should act in the same manner towards me. You
have not chosen to fulfil the conditions of this
agreement, therefore let us say no more about it."
When M. d'Auvray had once said a thing, it
was settled. Aloise did not dare to reply, but she
remained weeping. The horses are ready," said
M. d'Auvray, "we must set off; come, go and
fetch your bonnet."
Aloise then knew that all hope was lost, and
she could not restrain her sobs. Go and get
your bonnet," said her father in a firmer tone,
.and her mother led her gently to the door. She
remained outside the room, leaning against the
wall, unable to move a step, and crying most
bitterly. Her nurse entered softly, and asked
whether she had got the money, as the man was
becoming impatient. Indeed Aloise heard him in
the hall speaking to the servant, in the same surly
ill-tempered tone. He said he had not time to
wait; that it was very disagreeable and incon-
venient to be sent there for nothing; and that
Janette might rest assured she would have to
be off pretty quickly. The tears of Alo'ise were
redoubled; her nurse endeavoured to console her,
and the old servant who was passing t the
moment, not knowing the'cause of her grief, told







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


her that she was going to amuse herself in the
country, and would soon forget her trouble.
To amuse myself!" cried Aloise, to amuse
myself!" And she remembered that during this
time Janette would be in despair, and turned into
the street with her three children.
"Oh! dear," she exclaimed, could they not
have punished me in some other manner?"
Listen," said her nurse, suppose you were
to ask for some other punishment ?"
Aloise turned towards her a hesitating and
frightened look. She saw very well that she was
going to propose to her to give up her visit to the
country; and although she promised herself very
little pleasure from it, she had not the courage to
renounce it. But the servant came to tell her
that the man was tired of waiting, and was going
away. And in fact she heard him open the door,
saying in a loud voice, She shall pay for
having made me come here for nothing." Aldise
with clasped hands, entreated the servant to run
after him and stop him for a moment, and told
her nurse to go and beg of her parents to change
her punishment, and instead of it to deprive her
of the pleasure of going into the country. The
nurse having done so, Madame d'Auvray came
out immediately and said to her daughter,
My child, our wish is not to punish you, but
to fix in your mind something of consequence
which we have not yet succeeded in impressing
on it. Do you think the regret you will feel in
not going into the country with us, will have
sufficient effect upon you, to make you remember
to be a little more orderly in what you do?"
Oh! mamma," said Aloise, I do assure you






THE RENT.


that the grief I have had, and that which I shall
still have," she added, redoubling her tears, "in
not going into the country, will make me well
remember it."
"Very well, then," said Madame d'Auvray,
and she gave her the louis, which Aloise charged
her nurse to carry to the man. As for herself,
she remained leaning against the door, through
which her mother had returned into her room.
Her nurse, having ordered the kitchen-maid to
follow the man, and carry the louis to Janette,
found her there still crying; and told her that
as she had taken her course, she ought to show
more courage, and dry up her tears, and go and
bid farewell to her parents, who would other-
wise think she was sulking, which would not be
proper. Aldise dried her eyes, and endeavour-
ing to restrain herself, entered the room. As
she approached her father, in order to kiss him,
he took her on his knee, and said, "My dear
Aldise, is there no way of engraving still more
deeply on your memory, that which you ought
not to forget?" Aloise looked at him. "Would
it not be," he continued, "by taking you with us
into the country, relying upon the promise which
you will give us never again to forget to put your
work away? "
"Never !" said Aldise, with an agitated look;
"but if I should forget it on some occasion ?"
"I am sure that you will not do so," replied
her mother; "your promise, the recollection of
our indulgence, all this will force you to remem-
ber it."
"But, oh dear oh dear! if after all I were
to forget it!"
SE2








HISTORY OF


"Well," said her father, kissing her, "we
wish to force you to remember it."
Aloise was greatly affected by all this kindness;
but she felt tormented by the fear of not keeping
the promise on which her parents relied; and
whilst her nurse, who had heard what was said,
ran joyfully to fetch her bonnet, she remained
pensive, leaning against the window. At length,
turning eagerly to her mother, Mamma," she
said, I will beg of God every day in my prayers
to give me grace to keep my promise."
That will be an excellent means," replied her
mother, make use of it at once;" and Aloise
raised her eyes to heaven and her heart to God,
and felt encouraged. Nevertheless she preserved
throughout the day, amidst the amusements of
the country, something of the emotions which had
agitated her in the morning. At night she did
not forget to renew her prayer; the next morning
she thought of it on waking, and in order not to
forget it, she imposed upon herself the rule of
attending to it before she did anything else. She
succeeded, by this means, in impressing upon her
mind the duty prescribed to her. Once only,
did she seem on the point of going away without
arranging her work.
Aloise," said her mother, have you said
your prayers this morning ?"
This question reminded her both of her prayer,
which, indeed, for some time past, she had said
with less attention, as she now thought herself
secure, and also of her promise, which she had run
the risk of forgetting; and she was so much terri-
fied that she never again fell into the same danger.
One daywhen her mother was speaking to her about







A LOUIS D'OR.


the manner in which she had corrected herself,
she said timidly, But, mamma, in order to
correct me, you surely would not have had the
heart to allow poor Janette to be turned out of
doors?"
Her mother smiled and said, You must at all
events allow that you are at present very happy for
having been afraid of this." Aloise assented.
The louis d'or had enabled her to acquire a good
habit, from which she derived more advantages
than she had at first expected; for the money
which she saved, by not having constantly to
replace things lost through carelessness, gave her
the means of doing something additional for
Janette, for whom also work was found, as well as
various little commissions, so that she and her
children were no longer in danger of dying of
hunger, or of being turned out of their miserable
garret.
Here M. de Cideville, being obliged to go out,
interrupted his narrative, deferring its continuation
to another day.


CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.

M. DE CIDEVILLE having one day, of his own
accord, continued the history of the louis d'or, said
to his daughter, You have already seen, by the
several adventures which I have related, of what
importance may be, under certain circumstances,
a sum apparently so trifling as a louis d'or. You
will soon see all the advantages which may be
derived from it; but I must first tell you in what
manner it passed out of the hands of the landlord,







HISTORY OF


to whom Janette had given it in payment of her
rent.
This landlord was a shoemaker; his house was
very small, very disagreeable, and very dirty, as
may be imagined by the sum paid by Janette for
rent, and he was himself the porter. He was
very avaricious, and would not go to the expense
of keeping it in a moderately decent condition, or
even of repairing it, so that it was occupied only
by very poor people, or by those who had been
guilty of bad actions, for, provided his tenants
paid him, he did not trouble himself about their
honesty. There was one among them, named
Roch, whom he knew to be a rogue, and who had
several times concealed stolen goods. The shoe-
maker shut his eyes to this, because on these occa-
sions he almost always received some little pre-
sent. One day, as the shoemaker was looking in
the narrow court, which separated his house from
that of his neighbour, for old pieces of linen some-
times thrown there, and of which, after having
washed them, he made use as linings for his shoes,
he stooped down to pick up one of them, when
his pipe, which he had in his mouth, caught in
something, and slipping from him, fell through a
grating into his neighbour's cellar. He would
have been glad to have gone and asked for it, but
he did not dare to do so, for misers are always
ashamed of those actions which their avarice leads
them to commit. Whilst leaning over the grating,
in the hope that it might have lodged on the slope
of the wall within, and that he should be able to
regain it, there suddenly burst from the opening
such a volume of smoke, that he was nearly
stifled. The pipe had fallen upon some straw,







A LOUIS D'OR.


recently unpacked, and which, not having yet im-
bibed the damp of the cellar, caught fire almost
immediately. The shoemaker knew very well
what was likely to follow, and ran away, in order
that he might not be suspected as the cause of the
mischief; but trembling for his own house, to
which the fire might extend, he gave an alarm,
saying that he perceived a strong smell of smoke;
and in order that assistance might be promptly
rendered, he guided the people so well in the
direction of the fire, that the truth was imme-
diately suspected.
The flames quickly spread to a heap of faggots,
thence to a quantity of goods which were near,
and before there was time to suppress them, they
had injured the building. The landlord entered
a process against the shoemaker, in order to make
him pay the damages, saying that it was he who
had set the place on fire, which, indeed, there was
every reason for suspecting. It was known that
he was in the habit of searching in the court for
rags, and suchlike things, that happened to be
thrown from the windows. There had also been
found in the ashes underneath the grating and on
the spot occupied by the heap of straw, the re-
mains of a pipe which had not been consumed.
It was observed that when the shoemaker gave
the information, he was without his pipe, a thing
quite extraordinary for him. He was also known
to have bought a new one on the same day, and
every one was aware that he was not a man to
buy a new pipe if he had an old one in his posses-
sion. It was then more than probable that it was
his pipe which had fallen into the cellar, and set
it on fire. Besides, two persons believed that they









HISTORY OF


had seen him, from a distance, going out of the
court.
The shoemaker had nothing to oppose to these
charges, but the assertion that he was not on the
spot when the place took fire; but in order to
have this assertion received, he must find wit-
nesses who would consent to give a false testi-
mony. He thought Roch might do him this
service, and he reminded him of all the indul-
gence which he had granted to him. Roch made
no objections; he was so great a knave, that he
seemed to take a pleasure in doing what was
wrong. He simply demanded, as the reward of
this service, that the shoemaker should introduce
and recommend him, as a servant, to M. de la
FBre, a gentleman for whom the shoemaker
worked, and who at that time was in want of a
servant. Roch was very desirous of getting this
place, but quite at a loss as to the means of doing
so, as he could find no one willing to give him a
character. The shoemaker consented; for we can
never ask others to do what is wrong for us with-
out being obliged to do at least as much for them
in return. But two witnesses were requisite.
Roch undertook to procure another, on condition
that the shoemaker should give him a louis d'or.
The latter, at first, made many objections; for
he valued his money more than his conscience,
but there was no alternative in the case. He
therefore gave him the very louis d'or that
Janette had paid him, and Roch and his comrade
both affirmed on oath, that the shoemaker was
returning home in their company, at the time that
he perceived from the street the smell of the
smoke then issuing from the court. They also






A LOUIS D'OR.


affirmed, that during their walk, a porter had
knocked against him so roughly, that his pipe was
thrown out of his mouth, and that in stepping
forward to gain his balance, he had trodden upon
it, and crushed it. To give their assertions a
greater appearance of truth, they repeated the
remarks which they pretended to have made
upon the occasion. The shoemaker gained his
cause. Roch kept the louis, giving only twelve
francs to his comrade, and entered the service
of M. de la FBre, who was on the point of leav-
ing France, where, like many others, he did
not consider himself in safety; for it was the
close of the year 1792. Neither his man-servant
nor his wife's maid was willing to accompany
them; so that being in a great hurry to leave,
they were compelled to take Roch without in-
quiry, and upon the sole recommendation of the
shoemaker, whom they believed to be an honest
man. They were desirous of obtaining gold for
their journey, as being more convenient than
silver, and at that time the value of the louis d'or
was high, for it was much in request, as many
families were leaving France for the same cause
as M. de la Fere. Roch therefore sold to his
master the louis which he had received from the
shoemaker. It thus came into the possession of
M. de la Fbre, and you shall see presently all that
it produced. As for Roch, before his departure
with M. de la Fere, he defrauded the shoemaker
out of the amount of a rather heavy bill which his
master had ordered him to pay. He produced a
false receipt, and kept the money. The shoe-
maker did not become aware of his departure till
several days afterwards, and thus found himself








HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


punished for recommending a rogue. We must
now see what the louis produced in the hands of
its new possessor.


THE WEEK.
IT was at the commencement of the year 1793,
that M. de la FBre, accompanied by his wife, his
son Raymond, a lad of fifteen, and his daughter
Juliette, who was thirteen, his servant Roch, and
his wife's new maid, left France, to establish them-
selves in a small town in Germany. They had
brought with them sufficient money to enable
them, if necessary, to remain away for several
years, and the more easily, as having chosen a
town in which no French had as yet arrived, and
where they were not acquainted with any Ger-
mans, they hoped to lead the kind of life which
suited them, without being obliged to incur
greater expenses than they wished. Thus they
hoped, by means of a reasonable, but not incon-
venient economy, to pass the period of trouble in
comfort and tranquillity, attending to the educa-
tion of their children, who, delighted with the
change of scene, thought only of enjoying the
various new objects which their journey presented
to them.
Although much afflicted at leaving their
country, and deeply grieved for the misfortunes
which were daily occurring there, M. and Madame
de la Fere would not depress the spirits of their
children, by recurring to events over which they
had no control; but on the contrary, they pro-
cured for them such pleasures as were compatible






THE WEEK. 59
with their situation. They had somewhat pro-
longed their journey, in order to show thm
various interesting objects situated at a sort dis-
tance from their route, and had been settled in
the town in which they intended to reside only a
few days, when their host, M. Fiddler, spoke of a
rather curious kind of fair which was then being
held at some distance from that place. They
hired one of the carriages of the country, and
wishing to take advantage of the opportunity
which the occasion afforded of enjoying the
scenery of the neighbourhood, which was very
beautiful, they set out early, carrying with them
sufficient provisions to enable them to pass the
whole day in the fields. It was in the month of
June; they prolonged their walks so much, that
it was ten o'clock in the evening when they
reached town. They were surprised, on arriving,
to find that the servant, whom they had left in the
house, did not come to assist them. They sup-
posed that he must have gone to the fair on his
own account, together with the maid, whom they
also called for in vain. They were at a loss to
get in, as the door of the house was locked,
M. Fiddler having also gone to the fair. At last,
a little boy who had been left in charge of it, and
who likewise had been amusing himself, came
back, opened the door, and procured a light from
a neighbour, who presented to M. de la Fire a
letter which had arrived during his absence. M.
de la Fire stopped to read it, and then entered
the house, so completely absorbed, that he did
not notice the exclamations of distress which
were uttered by his wife and children. At last
they ran to him, spoke to him, roused him from







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


his abstraction, and showed him all their cupboards
open and emptied, the secretary forced, and their
money and jewels carried off: there was nothing
left. Roch and the maid, who had also been
taken without sufficient inquiry, and who was an
equally ill-disposed person, had several times,
during their journey, given them cause for dis-
trusting them, and it was their intention to send
them back to France. They had apparently sus-
pected this intention, and profited by their ab-
sence to rob them. This they could very easily
do, as the pavilion, which was the part of the re-
sidence occupied by M. and Madame de la Fere,
was separated from the rest of the house, and on
one side opened upon the fields. On this side,
the open doors and windows showed traces of
their flight; but there was no possibility of fol-
lowing them at that hour, nor any hope of other-
wise arresting them. The town was situated on
the frontiers of two small German states, and there
was no doubt that they had entered the neigh-
bouring one, as, from several circumstances which
were then recollected, it might be presumed that
they had taken their precautions beforehand.
However, M. de la Fbre went to the magistrate of
the town to lodge his complaints, and to take the
necessary proceedings.
When he returned, hkifamily had not yet had
time to recover from their -onsternation. Juliette
was crying, and her mother, though herself over-
whelmed with grief, was endeavemring to soothe
her; Raymond, who understood German, was talk-
ing to M. Fiddler, who hearing of their misfor-
tune on his return from the fair, had hastened
with great kindness to offer them his assistance.







TRE WEEK.


All this Raymond communicated to his mother
and sister. M. de la Fere also thanked him in
German, for M. Fiddler did not understand
French, and told him that though they had indeed
experienced a most serious misfortune, he hoped,
nevertheless, that they would be able to extricate
themselves from it; and M. Fiddler, who was very
considerate, fearing to be importunate, imme-
diately retired.
When they were alone, assembled round a
candle which M. Fiddler had lent them, M. de la
Fere, after tenderly embracing his wife and chil-
dren, made them sit down by him, and remained
for some time silent, as if he knew not what to
say to them.
At length Raymond, who had heard his father's
reply to M.-Fiddler, broke the silence.
Papa," he said, "you told M. Fiddler that we
should be able to extricate ourselves from our
difficulties; does the letter, which you have just
received, say that money will be sent to us from
France ?"
"On the contrary, my child."
"What on the contrary?" exclaimed Madame
de la Fere, with a movement of alarm. Her
husband pressed her hand, and she restrained
herself. He had accustomed her to preserve her
self-command in the presence of their children, in
order not to give them exaggerated ideas of what
might happen to them.
"My beloved friends," continued M. de la
Fere, taking his daughter on his knees, and re-
taining the hand of his wife within his own, "we
must not rely, at least for a very long time to
come, on any assistance from France; for all our







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


property is seized, and God only knows when we
shall regain possession of it."
Madame de la Fbre turned pale, but said
nothing. Juliette wept and trembled, and Ray-
mond, leaning on the back of a chair, listened
attentively to his father, whose calm and firm
manner completely reassured him. M. de la FBre
continued-
"Of all our effects there remains absolutely
nothing, but what we have upon us, and a small
trunk of linen, which I see in the corner there,
and which they seem to have forgotten. Of all
our money, there remains but this louis d'or,"
said he, holding it up, which I had in my pocket."
"Good heavens," exclaimed Juliette, in a tone
of despair, what will become of us ?"
Her father pressed her in his arms. "Have a
little patience, sister," said Raymond, quickly.
He saw that his father had something to propose,
and whatever it might be, he was eager to execute
it. M. de la FBre continued-
"A louis, my dears, may still become a re-
source, provided one knows how to turn it to
account. We cannot live without work: we must,
therefore, find the means of working."
Madame de la Fere replied, that she and her
daughter could embroider, and that M. Fiddler
would be able to recommend them in the town.
"Yes," replied M. de la Fere, "but that is not
sufficient. Before these recommendations have
produced their effect, before we receive work, and
before that work is finished, our louis d'or may
very easily be spent; and my watch, which is the
only thing left us that we can sell, for they have
taken Raymond's, will not afford us a very con-







THE WEEK.


siderable resource: we must, therefore, devise
some plan for not exhausting too rapidly our
means of existence."
Juliette said that M. Fiddler, who had so
kindly offered his aid, would be able to assist them
until their work afforded them the means of
living.
"We must only accept assistance from others,"
said M. de la Fere, "when we can do absolutely
nothing for ourselves. Do you feel the courage
to impose upon yourselves, for one week only, the
most severe privations?"
All answered "Yes !" "Even if it be to live
on bread and water," said Raymond. M. de la
Fere pressed his son's hand with an air of satis-
faction. But Juliette turned towards her father
with a somewhat terrified expression, and Madame
de la FBre looked first upon her husband, and
then upon her children, and could not restrain a
few tears. M. de la Fere, making a great effort
to preserve his firmness, said to them:
Listen, my dears, and I hope you will agree
with me, that a week's courage is a very trifling
matter, if it can insure our preservation. This is
my calculation. Our rent is paid three months
in advance. We have in the trunk as much linen
as we shall want for three weeks, without requir-
ing anything washed; as it is summer, we shall
not need any fire; the days being long, if we get
up and go to bed with the sun, there will be no
necessity for candles; thus, without expending
anything, we are secured on all these points, from
all suffering, and indeed from every real inconve-
nience, for more than a week. We have only our
food to pay for. In limiting ourselves for a week







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


only to what is absolutely necessary,-to bread,
my dear Juliette," said he, tenderly embracing
his daughter, whom he still held upon his knee, it
will be possible for us to employ a part of this
louis on the purchase of materials to enable you
to embroider, and myself and Raymond to paint
boxes and screens, and various other things which
M. Fiddler doubtless will enable us to sell. In a
week we shall probably have gained something by
our labour. If we are compelled to wait longer, I
have still my watch, and I will answer for it, that
before its price is expended, we shall be free from
anxiety."
Raymond, animated by the manner in which
his father pronounced these words, embraced his
mother, and then his sister, who was still weeping
a little. Consider, Juliette," he said, a week
is so soon over!"
Hitherto, indeed, Raymond had always been
much more of an epicure than his sister, and
much more eager in the pursuit of what pleased
him; but at the same time, he had more determi-
nation, and was better able to make a sacrifice,
where any great object was to be attained.
Besides, the present moment had inspired him
with what a great misfortune ought always to
inspire a man- an increased amount of sense
and courage; whilst Juliette, on the contrary,
somewhat overcome by the fatigues of the day,
had not been able to recover from the surprise
and terror of the first moment. Their ill-lighted
room gave her melancholy impressions, everything
seemed dark around her, and she felt excessively
unhappy, without being exactly able to tell why.
The caresses of her parents calmed her a little;







THE WEEK.


her mother made her go to bed, and she soon
sunk into that sound sleep which grief usually
produces at her age; and on awakening the fol-
lowing morning, she felt entirely reanimated. Her
mother had already made the purchases neces-
sary for commencing work. It had been the fash-
ion in France, for some time before their departure,
to wear lawn handkerchiefs, embroidered in co-
loured silks; and this custom, though now rather
antiquated, had not yet reached the town in which
they were residing, although its inhabitants affected
to follow the French fashions. She bought suffi-
cient lawn for a handkerchief, silks to embroider
it, and some card-board and colours for her
husband and son. These cost rather less than
fourteen francs; the remaining ten were carefully
reserved for the maintenance of the family. Ma-
dame de la FBre felt her heart a little oppressed
when she beheld this trifling sum, but the recol-
lection of the watch gave her confidence that her
children would not want for bread; and besides,
accustomed to rely upon her husband, of whose
courage and firmness she was well aware, so long
as she saw him tranquil, she could not feel very
uneasy. As M. de la Fere was returning with
the bread he had purchased for the family, he
met M. Fiddler, who expressed his grief for the
inconveniences which he suffered, and once more
offered his services. M. de la Fere again thanked
him, promising that if he really stood in need of
assistance, it would be to him that he would
apply; and M. Fiddler, being a man of the greatest
discretion, did not press the matter further.
When Juliette entered the room in which the
family was assembled, she found her mother and







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


Raymond already occupied in arranging an old
embroidery-frame, which they had found in a
corner of the apartment, while M. de la Fere was
drawing upon the piece of lawn, the wreath with
which it was to be embroidered. The sun shone
brilliantly into the apartment, which looked
out upon a magnificent landscape, and Juliette,
forgetting the troubles of the previous evening,
set herself gaily to assist her mother and brother.
The wreath was soon drawn, the frame soon
mounted; the tasks were distributed, and each
commenced his labour. During this time, M. de
la FBre began to design the ornaments for a work-
box, whilst Raymond, who was tolerably adroit,
cut and gummed the card-board, and even assisted
his father in the less difficult ornaments. After
working for some time, Juliette began to feel
hungry. She was afraid to say anything as yet;
Raymond, however, having asked his father if it
was not time for breakfast, opened a cupboard in
which the bread had been placed, and exclaimed,
laughing, Behold our week's provisions !" then
he cut for his mother and sister some slices of
bread, which he assured them had been selected
with great care. As to himself, he separated his
own into five or six pieces, calling one a cutlet,
another a leg of mutton, and so on. This made
them laugh, and thenceforth they constantly
amused themselves, while eating their bread, with
bestowing upon it the names of the most refined
dishes.
Although Madame de la FBre often made
Juliette leave her work and walk with her brother
in the road that passed beneath their windows,
yet in three days the handkerchief was embroi-







THE WEEK.


dered, and M. de la Fere, on his part, had com-
pleted a box, the top of which, painted in bistre,
represented one of the points of view to be seen
from his window, while the sides were ornamented
with arabesques, also in bistre. M. Fiddler, to
whom M. and Madame de la Fere had communi-
cated their determination of living by their labour,
recommended them to a lady in the town, the
only one who understood French. Madame de la
Fere called upon her, accompanied by Juliette,
who although somewhat ashamed at being pre-
sented under such circumstances, nevertheless felt
a certain degree of pride, in thinking that her
work should be of some consequence. The Ger-
man lady, to whom M. Fiddler had related their
misfortunes, received them with great kindness.
She purchased the handkerchief, at the price of a
louis, in the money of the country, and also the
work-box for twelve francs, and told Madame de
la Fere that she would enable her to sell others.
They returned delighted. "Mamma," said Juliette,
on their way home, since we have been so suc-
cessful, I think for to-day at least, we might have
something to eat with our bread."
Madame de la Fere replied that that must
depend upon her father; but when, after relating
their success, Juliette renewed her proposition;
" My dears," said M. de la Fere, looking at his
children, for Raymond had listened to his sister's
proposition with great attention, if we break
our fast to-day, it will be more difficult to keep it
to-morrow, and if we do not maintain it until the
end of the week, the fruit of our courage will be
lost, for we shall still be inconvenienced to pur-
chase the materials necessary for continuing our
S2






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


labours; whereas our having a little in advance
will make us quite comfortable."
Come," said Raymond, running to the cup-
board, and cutting a large slice of bread, here is
my sturgeon pasty for this day."
My dear Juliette," said M. de la Fere to his
daughter, who seemed a little sad, "it is merely
an advice which I have given you. The money
which we possess is in part gained by your labour,
and it would be unjust to prevent you from
spending it according to your fancy; if you wish,
we will give you your share, and you can do what
you please with it." Juliette threw her arms
round her father's neck, and told him that she
always wished to do as he did, and whatever he
pleased; and the money was immediately em-
ployed in purchasing new materials.
If Juliette had rather more difficulty, on this
day, and the following ones, in eating her bread,
to which her brother in vain gave the most tempt-
ing names, she consoled herself by calculating
with her mother, the number of hours, of minutes
even, which must intervene before the close of the
last day; and then how many minutes were
required to work a flower. This shortened the
time; for when Juliette had not finished her task
in the period which she had allotted to it, she
found the time pass much too quickly. She was
greatly delighted that the watch had not been
sold, and felt a certain pride in thinking that
they might be able to preserve it by their in-
dustry.
As constant work suggests methods of abridg-
ing labour, they this time finished, in five days,
two handkerchiefs and three boxes, and to com-







THE WEEK.


plete their happiness, on the evening of the eighth
day, the German lady sent to inquire if any more
were ready. She had given a party on the
previous evening; her handkerchief had been ad-
mired; she had shown her box also, and several
of her friends expressed a wish to purchase similar
articles of both kinds. When Madame de la Frre
and her daughter called upon her the following
morning, she not only took all that were finished,
but gave orders for a fresh supply. Juliette could
not contain her joy. She had eaten her dry bread
very cheerfully before starting, thinking that,
according to all appearances, they would have a
better dinner; and now on their return, she
assisted her mother in preparing it; she could
never have believed it possible for her to have ex-
perienced so much pleasure as she now felt, in
peeling onions, touching greasy spoons, or broiling
herself in skimming saucepans, on a hot summer's
day. Her mother wished that, for this day, she
should entirely lay aside all other work. Ray-
mond and she, therefore, passed the morning in
laughing till tears came into their eyes, at the
thousand absurdities which their joy prompted
them to utter; and M. and Madame de la FAre,
delighted at seeing them so happy, forgot for a
time that they had ever experienced sorrow.
With what delight Juliette helped her brother
to set the table, to lay the cloth, to place the
covers and plates lent them by M. Fiddler. Just
at the moment that she was about to serve up the
dinner, she heard exclamations of joy from Ray-
mond, who came running to tell her that the
Chevalier de Villon, an old friend of his father,
whom they had not seen for several years, as he







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


had left France a long time before them, had just
arrived in the town, and was coming to dine with
them. How fortunate!" said Raymond, that
he did not come yesterday;" and he ran out to
rejoin the chevalier.
He comes to diminish our dinner," said Juli-
ette, in a tone of ill temper, which she was not
able to control; for it seemed to her that the least
alteration must interfere with the happiness she
anticipated.
Juliette," said her mother, if during the
past week you had found a friend, who was will-
ing to share his dinner with you, you would have
been very glad, even though you thought that he
would thereby deprive himself of something."
"It is because I think M. de Villon does not
stand in need of it," said Juliette, completely
ashamed of what she had said. At this moment
the chevalier entered, his clothes in rags, and
himself so pale and so thin, that Madame de la
Fere, on beholding him, could not suppress a cry
of grief; as for him, with his Gascon vivacity, he
ran to embrace her.
"You see," said he, to what I am reduced.
This is now the uniform of a French gentleman,
my dear Madame. Why I am not sure that I
have eaten anything these two days."
Madame de la Fere turned to Juliet, who with
a supplicating look seemed to entreat her to forget
what she had said. The chevalier sat down, for
he could scarcely stand; nevertheless his gaiety
never forsook him, as long as his strength re-
mained; but they felt that it was sinking with
every sentence. Juliette laid a cover for him, and
placed a chair at the table, for he was so much






TBE WEEK.


fatigued that he seemed scarcely able to move.
When the soup was served, and the chevalier,
with his accustomed politeness, wished to pass to
her the first plate, she entreated him to keep it
with so much earnestness, that he could not re-
fuse. She then raised her eyes to her mother as
if to ask forgiveness: Madame de la Fere smiled,
and joy returned to Juliette's heart. She was at
length helped in her turn, and thought she had
never enjoyed anything so much; while Ray-
mond, who, until then, fancied he disliked carrots
and turnips, did not leave a single bit of them
upon his plate. A piece of beef, and a dish of
vegetables, appeared to all this family a magnifi-
cent repast. How happy the poor chevalier felt,
at finding himself once more seated, and at table,
and in the midst of his friends! How he amused
Raymond and Juliette, by relating his campaigns
and adventures! M. Fiddler, knowing that M. de
la FBre had a friend to dinner, had requested per-
mission to send in a couple of bottles of good
wine, and M. de la Fere, who was no longer
afraid of being obliged to have recourse to com-
passion, considered that he ought not to refuse a
friendly present. The wine completely restored
to the chevalier his strength, his originality, and
even his hopes. By the time the dinner was over,
he had completely forgotten that he had not a
sou, that he had not a shirt, that his shoes were
without soles, and his coat almost without sleeves;
his friends had equally forgotten it, for on this
day no one thought of the future, and it passed
away in the enjoyment of a degree of happiness
of which those who have never suffered can form
no conception. At night, M. Fiddler lent them







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


a bed, and the chevalier slept in the room occu-
pied by M. de la FBre and Raymond, who could
hardly sleep from the joy he felt at having a new
companion.
The following morning, M. de la Fere said to the
chevalier: Well! you remain with us; but every
one in this house works,-what can you do?"
"Faith, not much," said the chevalier. "I
can attend to the house, go of errands, and see to
the cooking, when there is any," for they had re-
lated to him the history of the eight days' fast.
" Oh, I forgot," he continued, "I have a marrel-
lous talent for mending old clothes. Look !" and
he showed them his coat, which was hanging in
tatters at all points. Every one laughed; but on
a closer examination, they found, that if indeed
the chevalier's coat was thus torn, it had been
previously well mended. This," said he, is the
only talent I have as yet needed; set me to work,
and perhaps some other will spring up." It was
agreed that, for the present, he should confine
himself to the exercise of his talents as a tailor,
upon the remains of his coat, in order to make
it look somewhat more respectable, while he was
waiting for a better; and that he should under-
take the rough work, while the family was occu-
pied in executing the orders, which were now
numerous and pressing. A few days after, M.
Fiddler consented to let them have, instead of the
pavilion which they occupied, and which was un-
suited to their present circumstances, a much
smaller dwelling, to which was attached a little
garden; this the chevalier undertook to cultivate,
and it supplied them with some fruit and vegeta-
bles. He also prepared the cardboard for the







THE WEEK.


boxes and screens, and even chimney ornaments,
and pendule cases, which were made by M. de la
Fbre and his son. These productions, as well as
those of Madame de la Fere, became quite the
fashion in the country. The chevalier took them
to the neighboring fairs, where, at the same time,
he found opportunities of making more advan-
tageous purchases than in the town. M. de la
Fere gave him a per-centage on all he bought and
sold for him, so that in a short time he was able
to carry on a small trade on his own account, in
which he displayed considerable ability. Ray-
mond often accompanied him in these excursions,
and thus began to acquire a knowledge of business.
As for Madame de la Fere, who added to her skill
in embroidery, a talent for millinery, she had soon
so much to do that she was obliged to take work-
women, and she opened a shop, to which people
came from all parts, to get the French fashions, of
which the chevalier, by his activity, contrived to
obtain for her the patterns. When their circum-
stances had so much improved, that there was no
longer any danger of another fast, M. de la Fere
said to Raymond and Juliette, My children, you
have hitherto worked for the benefit of the com-
munity, it is but just that you should also work
for yourselves; I give you each a louis d'or, you
now know what it is capable of producing, turn it
to profit on your own account."
They did turn it to so good a use, that it
served for their maintenance during the remainder
of the time they continued abroad. M. and
Madame de la Fere, when they returned to
France, had acquired by their industry, a suffi-
cient sum to repurchase a portion of their pro-







HISTORY OF


perty which had been sold, and the Chevalier de
Villon, who remained with them, was in a con-
dition to pay them a small sum annually. As to
Raymond, he had acquired habits of business and
industry, and Juliette those of activity and eco-
nomy. She had also learned never to close her
heart to the miseries of others, as sometimes hap-
pens with those who are very much engrossed
by their own trials; but it was in the midst of the
anxieties of a most painful position, that Juliette
had seen how little it sometimes costs to alleviate
a great misfortune, and it was the louis d'or which
had taught her all this.


CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.
THE louis d'or paid by Madame de la Fere to the
merchant from whom she had bought the lawn for
her first handkerchiefs, was passed by him to a fel-
low-tradesman, who was going to another town of
Germany, where he was established as a dealer in
lace. Among the workpeople who supplied him,
was a young girl named Victorine, a refugee like M.
and Madame de la Fere. Victorine worked for the
support of her godmother, Madame d'Alin, an
elderly person who had formerly been well
off; but the dread of the revolution had seized
upon her to such a degree, that almost at the very
outbreak she precipitately quitted France, without
taking any precautions to preserve her property,
and without any money but what she happened to
have at the moment for her current expenses.
Thinking only of flight, she took no one with
her but her godchild Victorine, the daughter






A LOUIS D'OR.


of one of her old servants, whom she had brought
up. She had had her instructed in every kind
of female employment; and when they fell into
misfortune, Victorine, who, though scarcely seven-
teen years of age, possessed both sense and courage,
set herself vigorously to work for her godmother,
whom age, delicate health, and weakness of cha-
racter, rendered incapable of overcoming the
difficulties of such a situation.
The first thought of Victorine, when they found
themselves without means, had been to sell a
piece of lace, which she had just finished for her-
self. Having succeeded in disposing of it, she
continued this kind of work. She could not
devote to it as much time as she wished, having to
attend to the domestic arrangements, and to wait
upon Madame d'Alin, who was not accustomed to
do anything for herself. Occasionally also she
had to read aloud to Madame d'Alin, who was
sometimes a little vexed that she could not do so
more frequently. Victorine often felt annoyed at
being disturbed from her work, but she did not
display this feeling; for she knew that her god-
mother was so kind, that had she perceived it, she
would have deprived herself of many pleasures
and dispensed with many services, which habit
had rendered necessary to her.
Notwithstanding these interruptions, Victorine's
labour was sufficient to provide for their ordinary
wants; but it was only just sufficient. The least
additional expense would have deranged every-
thing, and since they had been in Germany, their
wardrobes had not been renewed. Madame d'Alin
suffered no inconvenience on this account, because
she went out so rarely that her dresses were







HISTORY OF


but little used, so that the clothes she had
brought with her were sufficient for a long time;
but Victorine's stock, never very considerable,
was soon exhausted, and the poor girl, notwith-
standing her good sense, was not insensible to the
annoyance of going out in a dress the different
parts of which did not well match the pattern,
and the sleeves of which only reached half way
down her arm; for she had grown. Madame
d'Alin, who was kindness itself, and who was
extremely fond of Victorine, endeavoured to im-
prove matters by giving her some of her own
dresses; but the dresses of Madame d'Alin, who
was small and thin, while Victorine was very tall
and rather stout, suited her still worse than those
which had, at least, been made for her; and
although her godmother's bonnet and old mantle
preserved her from the cold and rain, they gave
her so strange an appearance, that she could not
help being a little uncomfortable when she had to
go into the streets thus muffled up, and especially
when she entered the shop where she sold her
lace. She longed for the time when she should
be able to buy a dress and bonnet in the fashion
of the country, and as everything was very cheap
there, and Victorine had no desire to dress expen-
sively, she hoped to be able to accomplish her
wish for a sum of about a louis.
The possession of this louis, then, was the object
of her ambition : she thought of it night and day,
and pictured to herself the delight she should feel
the first time she went out dressed like other
people: but she must first be able to spare a louis,
and to accomplish this was no easy matter; for
Victorine, from the situation in which she was







A LOUIS D'OR.


placed, and the whole responsibility of which
devolved upon her, had acquired such habits of
economy, that she would never have run the risk
of spending so considerable a sum, without having
in advance sufficient money and work for several
mouths. She had then put a louis aside, but
determined not to purchase her dress and bonnet
until she had collected a certain sum. At first
she was very far from the point, then some weeks
of cheapness and the talent which she had ac-
quired for economy enabled her to increase her
store. Sometimes it augmented so rapidly that
she hoped to see it soon complete; but all at once
the price of vegetables was raised, or the bushel of
charcoal had gone more quickly: then the treasure
ceased to increase: Victorine no longer knew when
it would be complete, and the slightest accident
which happened to diminish it made her lose all
hope. Then would she add another patch to her
dress, which, in the anticipation of a new one, she
had a little neglected, and for several days her heart
would be sad, and she would feel some difficulty in
working with her usual diligence and pleasure.
One day when she happened to be in a hap-
pier mood, she carried her work to the dealer, who,
in paying her, said, See! here is some of the
money of your own country." And he showed
her the louis. Victorine, on beholding it, was
greatly moved; it was so long since she had seen a
French coin. Oh! how she longed to possess it I
But it was in vain that she calculated; the sum
owing to her in the currency of the country did
not amount to a louis. At last she begged the
shopkeeper to save it for her, promising in a
short time to bring sufficient work to make up the






HISTORY OF


amount. In fact, the desire of possessing this
louis redoubled her energies. Shortly afterwards
she went to obtain it, brought it away with great
delight, and as everything was referred to her
favourite idea, she determined to purchase with it
her dress and bonnet, as soon as she was able.
This was the louis d'or which she had put by, and
which she kept so carefully.
The increased quantity of work which she had
for some time executed, in order to obtain it the
sooner, together with a few weeks favourable to
her economy, brought her near the accomplish-
ment of her wishes. At length the day arrived
when the work she was to take home would com-
plete the necessary amount, provided the provisions
she had to purchase did not exceed a certain price.
The provisions happened to be cheap, and Vic-
torine, overjoyed, stopped on her way back at the
shop of a linendraper with whom she was ac-
quainted, and selected a pattern, in order to in-
crease the pleasure she would have in buying it;
and perhaps, also, that she might the sooner have
the gratification of telling some one that she was
going to purchase a dress. She had not yet com-
municated her intention to Madame d'Alin, but
she felt quite sure of her approbation. After
having made her choice, she returned home,
almost running, to leave her provisions, and to
fetch her louis. On entering, she opened the door
so hastily, that Madame d'Alin, who did not ex-
pect her, started, and her spectacles, which were
lying on her knee, fell, and both the glasses were
broken. "Good heavens exclaimed Madame
d'Alin, partly from fright, and partly from the
vexation she felt at having broken her glasses.







A LOUIS D'OR.


As for Victorine, she remained motionless. The
pleasure which she had promised herself was so
great, that her vexation was proportionably ex-
treme. At length, taking the spectacles from the
hands of Madame d'Alin, with a movement of
impatience, which she could not control, she said,
"Now, then, there are some glasses to be bought !"
"No, my child," replied Madame d'Alin,
mildly, "I will do without them." Victorine felt
that she had done wrong; and telling her god-
mother, in a tone of greater gentleness, that she
could not do without glasses, she went out to re-
place them. However, in calling on the linen-
draper to tell him that she .should not buy the
dress, she had to turn away her head, that he
might not see the tears which started to her eyes.
She purchased the glasses, returned home,
and was greatly astonished at finding with
Madame d'Alin a man, whom she did not at
first recognize, so little did she think it possi-
ble for him to be there. It was the steward
of the little estate on which Madame d'Alin
usually resided. He had come from France for the
purpose of informing his mistress that there
was no longer the slightest danger in return-
ing; that she had not been put upon the list of
emigrants; that her tenant, who was an honest
man, had punctually paid his rent; and that he
himself, having been unable to transmit to her
the money, had allowed it to accumulate, and had
now come to seek her, in order that she might
return home. Madame d'Alin, while listening to
him, was agitated between hope and fear; and as
for Victorine, she was so troubled, that she knew
not what she felt. Though she had longed to







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


revisit France, yet this had appeared to her a
thing so impossible, that she had never dwelt upon
the idea; but from this moment it took such pos-
session of her mind, that she could think of
nothing else, and her entreaties and arguments,
added to those of the steward, as well as the re-
presentations of several of the friends of Madame
d'Alin, from whom he had brought letters, which
her spectacles now enabled her to read, made
her resolve on returning. The day was fixed
for their departure; and Victorine, for whom her
godmother immediately bought a dress and bon-
net, having no need of her louis for this purpose,
reserved it, in order to buy, when she got back to
France, something which might afford her very
great pleasure.
On her return, she was for a long time unable
to decide on the manner in which she should
employ it. Madame d'Alin, who regarded her as
her own child, supplied her abundantly with
everything she required, and as she was too much
accustomed to economy to have any very strong
fancies, she always kept it for some better oppor-
tunity than had as yet presented itself. Besides,
when after some stay in Paris, they returned to
the little estate of Madame d'Alin, Victorine was
placed at the head of her household, and as she
found many things which required to be put in
order, she was too much occupied to think about
spending her louis. At length, one of her rela-
tives, a servant, in a town a few leagues distant,
having occasion to visit her, spoke of the difficulty
she felt in managing with her low wages, having
her mother to support, whose strength no longer
permitted her to do much. Victorine thought







THE TEMPTATIONS.


that the best use she could make of her louis, was
to give it to her friend; the latter promised to
send it as soon as possible to her mother, who
was called Old Mathurine, and who resided two
leagues distant from her. As to Victorine, she
shortly after married the son of the honest steward,
who had so well preserved the fortune of his mis-
tress. While Madame d'Alin lived, they took
care of her, as if they had been her own children,
and at her death, she left them a considerable
part of her property.
You see, continued M. de Cideville, how much
time and trouble are sometimes required in
order to obtain a louis d'or. The following story
will show you how many vexations might some-
times be avoided by the possession of a sum much
less considerable.


THE TEMPTATIONS.
MADAME DE LIVONNE, after having been in affluent
circumstances, had fallen into a state of great
poverty. Being left a widow, with her daughter
Euphemia, who was about twelve years of age,
and having only distant relations, who were far
from wealthy, and to whom she did not wish to be
a burden, she took the reasonable and courageous
resolution of providing, by her own exertions,
for herself and daughter. She therefore esta-
blished herself in a small town where she was un-
known, that she might be able to live as she
pleased, without being obliged to go into com-
pany, or receive visits. She applied herself to
plain work, with Euphemia, who was gentle and







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


reasonable, and who loved her mother, whom she
had seen very unhappy, so tenderly, that pro-
vided she saw her tranquil, nothing troubled her.
It was not because Euphemia did not, at first, ex-
perience much difficulty in accustoming herself to
certain privations which daily increased, or to
duties somewhat repugnant to her feelings; but
she found her mother so ready to neglect her-
self on her account, and so anxious to spare her as
much as possible everything that was disagreeable,
that she felt eager to anticipate her, and made a
pleasure of what would otherwise have been a
pain. Thus, for instance, she had no fancy for
counting the linen, or washing the dishes, but
if she could manage to be the first to see the
laundress, she hastened to give her the clothes,
delighted with the thought that her mother
would not have to do it; and after dinner she
generally contrived to surprise her, by washing
and arranging the things before Madame de
Livonne rose from table, who, upon seeing what
was done, would embrace her child with the
greatest tenderness.
With the happiness which these attentions
caused, would sometimes mingle a feeling of
melancholy and uneasiness, relative to the future
prospects of Euphemia; but Madame de Livonne
possessed so much fortitude, that she was enabled
to overcome her fears, and to place her trust in
Providence. Besides, there could not well be any
sadness where Euphemia was, for she laughed and
sung over all she did, and her mother, who was
still young, and had a pleasing voice, often joined
in her songs. In the evening, when the weather
was fine, they walked into the country, and







'THE TEMPTATIONS.


Euphemia, after having been shut up all day,
enjoyed with transport the beauty of the weather
and the freshness of the air; and, satisfied with
having worked with diligence, she thought with
pleasure of the duties of the succeeding day. To
see and hear her, one would have imagined that
she was the happiest creature in the world; and
in truth she was happy, for she did nothing wrong,
she had no fancies that tormented her, she was
never wearied, and always spent her time in use-
ful occupations.
Madame de Livonne was so economical, and pro-
portioned so well her expenses to her means, that
since they had been compelled to work for their
living, they had never been embarrassed. But
she was taken ill, even dangerously so. However,
Euphemia's joy, when she beheld her conva-
lescent, was so great, that she could scarcely
think of the situation in which they were soon to
be placed. Almost all their money had been
spent during the time that Madame de Livonne
had been unable to work, and when Euphemia,
occupied in nursing her, her heart always heavy,
and her eyes full of tears, was scarcely able to
work either. It was not what the poor child had
eaten during this time that cost much, but
medicines and nourishing food had been required
for her mother. Several persons of the town who
esteemed Madame de Livonne, on account of her
fortitude and her virtues, had, indeed, sent her
various things, of which she stood in need, but
this assistance ceased as soon as she was better,
and she herself even, in order not to encroach
upon their kindness, had assured them that
such things were no longer necessary for her.
o2






HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


They therefore found themselves in such a state
of destitution, that as soon as Madame de Livonne
had, in some degree, regained her strength, she
determined to go to a town, about two leagues
distant from where they lived, in order to collect
some money for work sent home before her illness.
They set out very early one morning, and
when just on the point of starting, the daughter
of Mathurine called upon them. It was in this
town that she was in service, and her mother
lived in the one to which they were going. She was
acquainted with them, as they worked for her mis-
tress, and being aware of their intended journey,
she begged them to carry to her mother the louis
d'or that Victorine had given her. They willingly
took charge of it, and set off full of spirits.
Euphemia was so delighted to breathe the morning
air, that, although repeatedly reminded by her
mother that they had four leagues to walk during
the day, she could not refrain from jumping
about, and running on before, and into the fields,
on each side of the road; so that when the heat
increased, she became very thirsty, and the more
so as she had eaten, while skipping about, a
large piece of bread. Her mother exhorted her
to bear the inconvenience with patience, as
there was no means of procuring anything to
drink. Euphemia said no more about it, as she
did not wish to grieve her mother needlessly; but
presently she uttered a cry of joy.
"Oh, mamma, there is a man selling goose-
berries; we can buy a pound to refresh ourselves."
My poor child," said her mother, "you know
we have no money."
I thought," replied Euphemia, timidly, that
they would not be very dear."







THE TEMPTATIONS.


"But I have no money at all, my dear Euphe-
mia; none whatever."
"I thought, mamma, that this man might
change for us old Mathurine's louis d'or, and
when we arrived, we could give her her money,
together with what we had borrowed from it."
But we have neither the permission of Mathu-
rine, nor of her daughter, to borrow from this
money; it was not given us for that purpose."
Oh! I am quite sure," continued Euphemia,
in a sorrowful tone, "that if they knew how
thirsty I am, they would gladly lend us sufficient
to buy a pound of gooseberries."
My poor child," replied her mother, still more
sorrowfully, "we can be sure only of our own
will, and dispose only of that which belongs to
us. As this money does not belong to us, is it not
the same as if we had not got it at all ?"
As she spoke, she put her arms round her
daughter's neck, and embraced her tenderly, re-
garding her with a look of distress, as if to en-
treat her not to persist in a request which she
could not grant. Euphemia kissed her mother's
hand, and turned away her head, that she might
not see the basket of gooseberries which was pass-
ing by them at the moment; and hearing her
mother sigh heavily, she determined not to give
her any more uneasiness.
"Are you still very thirsty?" said Madame de
Livonne to her, some time afterwards.
"Yes, mamma;" and she added, "this is like
the child of Hagar in the d iet." But seeing
that her comparison brought tears to her mother's
eyT .Ahe continued gaily, "i But I shall not die of
it," *d abe began to skip about, in order to show
that she was not overcome by the heat arid thirst.







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


Nevertheless, she was very much flushed, and her
mother, looking at her with great anxiety, saw
that she was really suffering. She stopped, and
looked around her. "Listen, Euphemia," said
she to her daughter; "it is possible that behind
this rising ground, which overhangs the road, we
may find a hollow, and perhaps some water. Get
up and see."
Euphemia ascended, and at first saw nothing
but a vast plain covered with corn, without a tree,
without the least verdure indicative of water.
For the moment, she felt ready to cry; she stood
on tiptoe, and notwithstanding the heat of the
sun, which was shining full upon her head, she
could not make up her mind to come down and
resign the hope of quenching her thirst. At
length she heard a dog bark not far from the spot
where she stood. After hearing it several times,
she remarked that the sound always proceeded
from the same place, and that it was, moreover,
the voice of a large dog, and not that of a shep-
herd's dog. She judged that the animal must be
at the door of some dwelling, and running in the
direction of the sound, she discovered, to her
extreme joy, a house which had been hidden by
the elevation on which she stood. She announced
the news to her mother, who telling her to go on,
followed after her. Before Madame de Livonne
arrived, Euphemia had drunk off a large glass of
water, with a little wine in it, which a good-
natured woman had given her, although Euphemia
at first refused the wine, as she had no money to
pay for it. She also asked for a glass for her
mother, and ran to meet her; and Madame de
Livonne, delighted at seeing the poor child re-






THE TEMPTATIONS.


freshed and comforted, forgot half her own
fatigues.
Having fully rested and refreshed themselves,
and warmly thanked their kind entertainer, they
again set out on their journey, by a path which
she had pointed out to them, as shorter and
pleasanter than the high road. -Euphemia, quite
reanimated, could not refrain from congratulating
herself on her good fortune, and a little also on
her cleverness, in having inferred that there was
a house there.
You must allow," said her mother, "that you
would not have shown so much discrimination,
had you not been so thirsty. Necessity is the
parent of invention."
Oh, most certainly," replied Euphemia, if I
had eaten the gooseberries, we should not have
sought for something to drink, and I should not
have had that good glass of wine and water,
which has done me so much more good."
Whilst thus conversing, a poor woman ap-
proached them, carrying an infant, which was
very pale, and so weak, that it could not hold up
its head; she herself was frightfully emaciated,
and her eyes were red and hollow from weeping;
she asked them for alms.
Good Heavens! we have nothing," said Eu-
phemia, in a most sorrowful tone.
Only enough to buy something for my poor
child, who has had no milk for two days! only
enough to save it from dying !"
I have nothing in the world," said Madame
de Livonne, with inexpressible anguish. The poor
woman sat down on the ground and burst into
tears. Euphemia, her heart, torn with grief,







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


clasped her hands and exclaimed, Mamma,
mamma, shall we leave this poor child and its
mother to die of hunger? Would not that be
worse than borrowing from Mathurine's money?
We are still near the house; let me go and change
the louis." Madame de Livonne cast down her
eyes, and for a iioment appeared to reflect.
Euphemia," said she, "have you forgotten
that as this money does not belong to us, it is the
same as if it were not in our possession?"
Euphemia began to cry bitterly, hiding her face
in her hands. The poor woman, seeing them
stop, got up and again approached Madame de
Livonne.
For the love of God," she exclaimed, and
that he may preserve your young lady, take pity
on my poor child!'
Tell me," said Madame de Livonne, "have you
sufficient strength to reach the town?" The
poor woman replied that she had, and Madame
de Livonne, drawing from her pocket the cover of
a letter, on the back of which she wrote a few
lines in pencil, told her to take it to the Cure of
the town in which she resided, promising her that
he would give her assistance. Euphemia, hearing
the poor woman thank her mother, felt courage at
last to turn to her her tearful face. The expression
of her pity seemed to shed a gleam of comfort over
the heart of this unhappy creature. She looked
alternately at Euphemia and at her child, as if to
tell him also to thank her. Euphemia just then
remembering that she had in her bag a piece of
bread, left from her breakfast, gave it to the
poor woman, who went away loading them with
blessing, for she plainly asw that they had-done







THE TEMPTATIONS.


for her all that was in their power. They con-
tinued their journey: their minds were relieved,
but they were serious. Euphemia could talk of
nothing but the poor woman. You see, my
child," said her mother, "that there are some-
times terrible temptations in life."
Oh, mamma I so terrible that I do not know
how it is possible to resist them."
By fully persuading ourselves that there is
nothing truly impossible but a breach of duty."
But,. mamma, if you had not been able to
write to the Cure, could you have made up your
mind to allow this poor woman to die, rather than
change Mathurine's louis?"
I would rather have begged for her."
This reply, in proving to Euphemia that re-
sources are never wanting to him who has the
courage to employ all those which are allowable,
calmed a little the alarm inspired by the severity
of certain duties.
At length they reached the town. One of the
two persons with whom -Madame de Livonne had
business, lived at its entrance, and she felt a little
uneasy at seeing the shutters of the house closed.
Nevertheless she made inquiries. A servant, the
only one remaining in the house, informed her
that her mistress was gone to see her sister, who
was ill, and living at a distance of thirty leagues.
Euphemia looked at her mother with dismay;
however, she thought it very fortunate that they
had not touched Mathurine's louis. They then
went; to the other customer; but she.no longer
resided in the town. A neighbour told them
that she had only stayed there a ,short time, and
that, no one knew where she was gone to. On







HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR.


receiving this reply, Madame de Livonne sat down
on a step. Her daughter saw her turn pale, and
lean for support, as if she was going to faint; and
indeed it was only her courage which had until
then supported her against the debility left by her
malady, the fatigues of the journey, and the vexa-
tion occasioned by her first disappointment. Now
her strength entirely gave way, and she fainted
outright. Euphemia, trembling, and in despair,
embraced her as long as she was able, and called
her, and shook her, in order to make her revive.
She was afraid to leave her for the purpose of
seeking assistance; brought up in habits of self-
restraint, she dared not cry out, and no one
happened to be passing by; every one was in the
fields. At length, the neighbour who had spoken
to them again coming out, Euphemia called her,
and pointed to her mother. Two other old women
also come up and gave their aid in restoring her
to consciousness. Madame de Livonne opened
her eyes, and turned them upon her daughter, who
kneeling by her side, kissed her hands, and ex-
claimed in a transport of joy, Mamma, here I
am;" for at this moment she thought of nothing
but the happiness of being once more restored to
each other.
However, she soon become very anxious about
their return home; but her mother told her not to
torment herself, as she would soon recover her
strength; and yet at every moment she seemed on
the point of fainting again. Every time she
closed her eyes, Euphemia turned pale and was
ready to burst into tears, but restrained herself,
in order not to grieve her mother, and clasping
her hands, she murmured in a suppressed voice,






THE TEMPTATIONS.


" My God! what shall we do? how are we to get
home?" One of the women told her that a coach
would be passing in two hours which would take
them back, but Euphemia knew very well that
they had no money to pay for their places, and
besides she thought that it would be impossible
for her mother, weak as she was, to continue her
journey without taking some refreshment. How-
ever, she had not once thought of making use of
Mathurine's money; but at last it occurred to her
that if she were to carry it to her, she might per-
haps lend them a part of it. Delighted with this
idea, she forgot her timidity, and hastily searching
for the louis in her mother's pocket, and begging
one of the women to accompany her to Mathurine's
house, she looked at her mother for permission.
Madame de Livonne by a sign gave her consent,
and Euphemia set off, walking so quickly that the
woman who accompanied her had some difficulty
in following her. Her heart beat violently as she
reached the house; the door was locked; Mathurine
had gone four leagues off to assist in the har-
vest, and was not to return until the following day.
Euphemia looked at the person who gave her this
information without uttering a word. She was
unable to speak, for her heart was bursting, and
her ideas were confused to such a degree, on
receiving an intelligence which destroyed her last
hope, that, happily for her, she no longer felt all
the misery of her situation. She returned slowly,
looking mechanically around her, as if seeking
some one who might give her aid; but all she ra
seemed poorer than herself, though she felt that
at that moment there were none of them so
wretched. Presently the air resounded with the




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