Monsieur," said little Anne.
"Come then; I will tell you this once —Juillet is the French for July. Now, tell me what is August?"
"Augoost!"
"Augoost! Augoost! there is no such a word. Why, you are very bad, indeed —Août, Août, Août."
The manner in which Mr. Ravigote vociferated this rather uncouth word, roused Uncle Philip from his newspaper and his rocking-chair, and mistaking it for a howl of pain, he started up and exclaimed, "Hallo!" Mr. Ravigote turned round in amazement, and Uncle Philip continued, "Hey, what's the matter? Has anything hurt you? I thought I heard a howl."
"Dear uncle," said little Anne, "Mr. Ravigote is not howling; he is only saying August in French."
Uncle Philip bit his lip and resumed his paper. Mr. Ravigote proceeded, "September?" and his pupil repeated in a breath, as if she was afraid to stop an instant lest she should forget —
"Septembre, Octobre, Novembre, Décembre."
"Ah! very well; very well, indeed," exclaimed Mr. Ravigote; "you have said these four words comme il faut;38 but it must be confessed they are not much difficult."
He then proceeded with the remainder of her vocabulary lesson; but in vain – not another word did she say that had the least affinity to the right one. "Ah!" said he, "je suis au desespoir;39 I much expected of you this day, but you have overtumbled all my hopes. Je suis abimé."40
"Oui, Monsieur, said little Anne.
"You are one mauvais sujet,"41 pursued the teacher, beginning to lose his patience; "punishment is all that you merit. Mais allons, essayons encore."42
Just at that moment the string of little Anne's beads (at which she had been pulling during the whole lesson) broke suddenly in two, and the beads began to shower down, a few into her lap, but most of them on the floor.
"Oh! quel dommage!"43 exclaimed Mr. Ravigote; "Mais n'importe, laissez-les,44 and continue your lesson."
But poor Mr. Ravigote found it impossible to make the little girl pay the slightest attention to him while her beads were scattered on the floor; and his only alternative was to stoop down and help her to pick them up. Uncle Philip raised his eyes from the paper, and said, "Never mind the beads, my dear; finish the lesson, and I will buy you a new coral necklace to-morrow, and a much prettier one than that."
Little Anne instantly rose from the floor, and whisking into her chair, prepared to resume her lesson with alacrity.
"Eh! bien," said the teacher, "now we will start off again, and read the inside of a book. Come, here is the fable of the fox and the grapes. These are the fables that we read during the ancien régime; there are none so good now."
Mr. Ravigote then proceeded to read with her, translating as he went on, and making her repeat after him – "A fox of Normandy, (some say of Gascony,) &c., &c. Now, my dear, you must try this day and make a copy of the nasal sounds as you hear them from me. It is in these sounds that you are always the very worst. The nasal sounds are the soul and the life of French speaking."
The teacher bent over the book, and little Anne followed his pronunciation more closely than she had ever done before: he exclaiming at every sentence, "Very well – very well, indeed, my dear. To-day you have the nasal sounds, comme une ange."45
But on turning round to pat her head, he perceived that gentille Annette was holding her nose between her thumb and finger, and that it was in this way only she had managed to give him satisfaction with the nasal sounds. He started back aghast, exclaiming —
"Ah! quelle friponnerie! la petite coquine! Voici un grand acte de fourberie et de méchanceté!46 So young and so depraved – ah! I fear, I much fear, she will grow up a rogue-a cheat – perhaps a thief. Je suis glacé d'horreur! Je tremble! Je frissonne!"47
"I'll tell you what," said Uncle Philip, laying down his newspaper, "you need neither tremble nor frisson, nor get yourself into any horror about it. The child's only a girl of five years old, and I've no notion that the little tricks, that all children are apt to play at times, are proofs of natural wickedness, or signs that they will grow up bad men and women. But to cut the matter short, the girl is too little to learn French. She is not old enough either to understand it, or to remember it, and you see it's impossible for her to give her mind to it. So from this time, I say, she shall learn no more French till she is grown up, and desires it herself. (Little Anne gave a skip half way to the ceiling.) You shall be paid for her quarter all the same, and I'll pay you myself on the spot. So you need never come again."
Mr. Ravigote was now from head to foot all one smile; and bowing with his hands on his heart, he, at Uncle Philip's desire, mentioned the sum due for a quarter's attempt at instruction. Uncle Philip immediately took the money out of his pocket-book, saying, "There, – there is a dollar over; but you may keep it yourself: I want no change. I suppose my niece, Kitty Clavering, will not be pleased at my sending you off; but she will have to get over it, for I'll see that child tormented no longer."
Mr. Ravigote thought in his own mind, that the torment had been much greater to him than to the child; but he was so full of gratitude, that he magnanimously offered to take the blame on himself, and represent to Mrs. Clavering that it was his own proposal to give up Mademoiselle Annette, as her organ of French was not yet developed.
"No, no," said Uncle Philip, "I am always fair and above-board. I want nobody to shift the blame from my shoulders to their own. Whatever I do, I'll stand by manfully. I only hope that you'll never again attempt to teach French to babies."
Mr. Ravigote took leave with many thanks, and on turning to bid his adieu to the little girl, he found that she had already vanished from the parlour, and was riding about the green on the back of old Neptune.
When Uncle Philip told Mrs. Clavering of his dismissal of Mr. Ravigote, she was so deeply vexed, that she thought it most prudent to say nothing, lest she should be induced to say too much.
A few days after this event, Madame Franchimeau sent an invitation, written in French, for Mrs. Clavering, and "Monsieur Philippe" to pass the evening at her house, and partake of a petit souper,48 bringing with them le doux Sammi, and la belle Fanchette.49 This supper was to celebrate the birthday of her niece, Mademoiselle Robertine, who had just arrived from New York, and was to spend a few weeks at Corinth.
Uncle Philip had never yet been prevailed on to enter the French house, as he called it; and on this occasion he stoutly declared off, saying that he had no desire to see any more of their foolery, and that he hated the thoughts of a French supper. "My friend, Tom Logbook," said he, "who commands the packet Louis Quatorze, and understands French, told me of a supper to which he was invited the first time he was at Havre, and of the dishes he was expected to eat, and I shall take care never to put myself in the way of such ridiculous trash. Why, he told me there was wooden-leg soup, and bagpipes of mutton, and rabbits in spectacles, and pullets
Properly.
I am in despair.
"I am thrown in an abyss of grief," is perhaps nearest the meaning of this very French expression.
Bad person – bad child.
But come, let us try again.
Oh! what a pity!
But no matter – let them alone.
Like an angel.
Ah! what roguery – the little jade! What an instance of imposture and wickedness!
I am frozen with horror! – I tremble! – I shiver!
A little supper.
The gentle Sammy and the lovely Fanchette.
