Then she hugged and cuffed me, shaking me about like a doll, and,
without waiting a minute, called Florimond and his white-capped
assistants who carried me feet first down the narrow stair and put me
down in the big bed in the bright room, and there Martine and Glodie
tucked me up and fussed about me, telling me over and over again that
now that they had me downstairs I should see what good care they would
take of me.
Do you know I really enjoyed it? And, having given in to my daughter
completely, strangely enough I find that it is I who really direct and
manage the whole household.
Martine spends the greater part of the day in my room now and we
have long talks about one time in particular when _I_ sat by _her_
bedside, because it was she who was laid up with a sprained foot. The
naughty little cat had jumped out of the window one night to meet her
sweetheart; I caught her, and in spite of the sprain, I gave her a good
trouncing; she laughs at it now and says I did not hurt enough, but in
those days it was impossible to keep her in order no matter what you
did; she always managed to slip through my fingers, but she kept her
head nevertheless and some one else lost his, we must suppose, as he is
now her husband. She laughs and sighs over those old days, and says it
is all over now; that there are no more jokes for her; and then we talk
of Florimond. She does justice to his good qualities, like the sensible
woman that she is, but admits that he does not amuse her; marriage,
however, is not intended for an amusement.
“No one knows that better than you do, Father, but we must make the
best of what we have. You might as well try to draw water out of a
sieve as to look for love in a husband, but I am not one to cry my
eyes out for what I cannot have; I am not so badly off, and contented
enough on the whole; but I can’t help thinking how different things are
now from what I used to expect. How far our youthful dreams are from
the things we come to accept in later years! I don’t know if it is sad
or ridiculous, but when I remember all the hopes and fears, vows and
flames, and for what? To make some man’s pot boil. After all, it is as
much as most of us deserve, but if any one had told me so, once upon a
time!--Well, there is always some fun to be got out of it. Laughter is
a sauce that would make anything taste good, and that has never been
lacking to you and me, Daddy; we can always laugh when we have made
fools of ourselves.”
Such as it was, you can be sure we did not deny ourselves that
consolation, and had many a joke, too, at the expense of other people.
Sometimes we would fall silent; she occupied with her work and I with
my book; but we kept up a little murmur like a brook which flows
underground till it can leap out again into the sunshine; an idea would
come into Martine’s head which made her burst out laughing, and then
our tongues would run on again faster than ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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