The Paris Sketch Book of Mr. M. A. TitmarshThackeray, William Makepeace
General
The Paris Sketch Book of Mr. M. A. Titmarsh
Thackeray, William Makepeace
Paris (France) -- Description and travel
“‘Aunt,’ said I, ‘I’m going, and took this very opportunity because you
WERE alone: tell mother I am too old now to eat her bread, and do no
work for it: I am going, please God, where work and bread can be
found:’ and so I kissed her: she was so astonished that she could not
move or speak; and I walked away through the old room, and the little
garden, God knows whither!
“I heard the old woman screaming after me, but I did not stop nor turn
round. I don’t think I could, for my heart was very full; and if I had
gone back again, I should never have had the courage to go away. So I
walked a long, long way, until night fell; and I thought of poor mother
coming home from mass, and not finding me; and little Pierre shouting
out, in his clear voice, for Beatrice to bring him his supper. I think
I should like to have died that night, and I thought I should too; for
when I was obliged to throw myself on the cold, hard ground, my feet
were too torn and weary to bear me any further.
“Just then the moon got up; and do you know I felt a comfort in looking
at it, for I knew it was shining on our little cottage, and it seemed
like an old friend’s face? A little way on, as I saw by the moon, was a
village: and I saw, too, that a man was coming towards me; he must have
heard me crying, I suppose.
“Was not God good to me? This man was a farmer, who had need of a girl
in his house; he made me tell him why I was alone, and I told him the
same story I have told you, and he believed me and took me home. I had
walked six long leagues from our village that day, asking everywhere
for work in vain; and here, at bedtime, I found a bed and a supper!
“Here I lived very well for some months; my master was very good and
kind to me; but, unluckily, too poor to give me any wages; so that I
could save nothing to send to my poor mother. My mistress used to
scold; but I was used to that at home, from Aunt Bridget: and she beat
me sometimes, but I did not mind it; for your hardy country girl is not
like your tender town lasses, who cry if a pin pricks them, and give
warning to their mistresses at the first hard word. The only drawback
to my comfort was, that I had no news of my mother; I could not write
to her, nor could she have read my letter, if I had; so there I was, at
only six leagues’ distance from home, as far off as if I had been to
Paris or to ’Merica.
“However, in a few months I grew so listless and homesick, that my
mistress said she would keep me no longer; and though I went away as
poor as I came, I was still too glad to go back to the old village
again, and see dear mother, if it were but for a day. I knew she would
share her crust with me, as she had done for so long a time before; and
hoped that, now, as I was taller and stronger, I might find work more
easily in the neighborhood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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