LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONES. MY SCHOOL-FRIENDS IN FRANCE. When I was a girl of about twelve years of age-I will not say how long ago, for fear of unpleasant calculations I was seized with a great desire to go to school in France. My eldest sister, during one of her holidays, went to visit a family, in which two of the daughters had been educated in a Parisian convent. A convent! The height of interest and romance to a school-girl's imagination. She brought home marvellous tales of their accomplishments and ingenuity in manufacturing the most exquisite point-lace, and emblazoning and cutting out those stamped papers, which, when displayed over boxes of tempting French prunes, were the marvel and delight of our childhood. She told how one played the guitar, another the harp, and both sang like angels; how that fact was ascertained, I could never precisely discover. Then they spoke French better than English, Janet affirmed; but the glory of the assertion was somewhat dimmed by her being compelled to acknowledge, after undergoing a strict cross-examination from my brother Archibald, that their knowledge of the grammar and pronunciation of their own language was very limited in its extent. The Miss Mackinlays were living Dictionnaires de l'Academie; but their spelling of English was, to say the least, peculiar. "But English is nothing," cried I, in a fit of enthusiasm: 66 everybody can read and spell. But to play the harp, and make point-lace, and sing like Clara and Wilhelmina Mackinlay! Oh! mother, mother, do let me go to a convent!" "What is the matter?" said my mother, awakened from her comfortable doze by the energy of my entreaty. "Go to a convent, child! What are you talking about?" "I want to go to a convent, mother, to make lace, and talk French, and sing like an angel, and-." "And forget your own language and religion into the bargain, and come back either an infidel or a Papist," said sober-minded matter-of-fact brother Archie. "Janet, I wonder you have not more sense than to talk such nonsense before that child.” "Go to a convent, indeed!" said my mother. "I wonder what your poor father would have said to such an idea. Go to bed, Bessie: it is five-and-twenty minutes to nine-much too late for you to be up." "That clock is a great deal too fast," I answered; "let me stay ten minutes more. I want to talk to you about this go. I am quite tired of Miss Duncan's school; one only learns the same dull history, and grammar, and geography, day after day; nothing out of the way or amusing. Just Telemachus and Numa Pom pilius to read in French; and you said yourself you would like me to get on faster with it; and nobody can learn French properly in England, Miss Mackinlay says so. Then in my music, such humdrum old things as they give me to learn! Clara's fingers fly over the piano, Janie says; and she has brought the loveliest music from Paris. You are so fond of music, too, Archie," I added, anxious to enlist my brother's powerful opinion in my favour-his practical sense and firm judgment having given him almost entire control over my gentle mother's proceedings since my father's death. "It is time for you to go to bed, Bessie," said he, regardless of my diplomatic appeal to his tastes; "wish your mother good night, and put this silly fancy out of your head; a moment's reflection might convince you that a Romanist convent was anything but a proper place of instruction for you." “But I need not go to a convent,” I replied, as I prepared to obey his injunctions; "there are many schools that are not nunneries. I only want to be in France. Good night, mother; good night, Janet. Remember, you promised to show me to-morrow how Wilhelmina does her hair." "There is some sense in what the child said last, Archibald," I heard my mother remark as I left the room; "schools in France are verywhat I could not hear; and honourably resisting the strong temptation to try and discover what my brother's answer was, I went to bed. I will not trouble the reader with an account of the various reasons which, a few months after, induced my mother to accede to my wishes, and place me at school, not in Paris, but at a town on the north-western coast of France, in the establishment of Madame Chèly. It was a little disappointment not to be allowed to become a denizen of Paris; but still it was enough for me to be in la belle France. And though I could not but feel several pangs of regret on bidding adieu to kind Miss Duncan and my old companions, I thought myself the luckiest girl in the whole world. A friend of my mother's, who was going to London, promised to take charge of me, and deliver me herself into the care of Madame Chèly, who was in England on business of her own at the time. Those were not railroad days, dear reader; and it took a considerable space of time to traverse the distance between the quiet country town in Lennoxshire, and the stirring metropolis of the British Isles. It was passed, however, safely and pleasantly; and in due time we made the personal acquaintance of Madame Emeline Chèly. She was a handsome, darkeyed woman, of a portly, commanding figure, well and fashionably dressed; but wanting in neatness, as my chaperon, with some dissatisfaction, remarked the last evening we spent together at our hotel; and it is curious enough, that few Frenchwomen, however much they may in general excel their British sisters in the arts of the toilette, have not that air of careful freshness, which, though it may sometimes starch itself into primness, has yet, to our insular way of thinking, so great a charm and attraction. Her manners were prepossess ing, with that caressing politeness which wins immediately the heart of a young person, and which even elder ones, armed with a stoical determination to be pleased with nothing "French" are seldom able to resist. And great real kindness she showed the next day, when having passed down the watery highway of Old Father Thames, we began to feel the influence of the opposing currents that meet round the North Foreland, aided by an eastern high wind. She made me a comfortable couch on deck, of shawls and cloaks, assuring me I should be much better there than in the cabin; sent Monsieur Chèly-whom I had not before seen, and whose moustache and imperial inspired me with the profoundest respect for brandy and water, and all sorts of abominations, which would have made me ill on shore, but are supposed to exercise a directly contrary influence at sea. It was all done in kindness, however, and I thought her the most fascinating person I had ever met with. But all reflection on madame's merits was interrupted by the agonizing employment of watching the rolling of the vessel, and counting the third wave that should lift her up higher than its predecessors, only to draw her down deeper at the succeeding plunge, and give a more awful wrench to every nerve and fibre of one's body. The rising of the ship seems almost a relief: it is the downward movement which gives such a fearful tug to one's whole system. I was beginning to wonder whether my name was destined to be added to the list of the unhappy beings who had died of seasickness, when late in the evening the vessel floated into Calais harbour. But the delightful sensation of repose and refreshment given by the still water was soon interrupted by madame's preparations for leaving the ship as soon as possible, as we had still several miles to proceed along the coast, before we reached the little town of B "Pauvre petite, comme elle a souffrit!" said madame, compassionately, as I raised my pale face and trembling limbs from my temporary couch. "Mais dans une heure de plus. Ne touchez pas à cela, laissez donc," to an officious porter." Adolphe, mon ami, va vite á la douane, car-" and the eager whisper that followed, and monsieur's sudden exchange of his lounging attitude for the most exemplary activity, would at another time have made me suspect that madame had some private reasons for dreading too close an examination into the contents of her trunks and boxes. A carriage was procured, and an hour's drive along the coast brought us to the little town of B, and to the door of the Pensionnat it was a large house, built soon round three sides of a court-yard, and having an ample garden, shaded by pine-trees; and one walnut-tree in particular, which stood by itself on the turf, and whose broad shadow was our favourite resort on summer afternoons. But, as may be imagined, I saw nothing of all this that night : I was so exhausted between sea-sickness and fatigue, that madame called one of the under-teachers, and requested her to take me to the "dortoir," as as I had finished the little supper I could manage to swallow. I was perfectly worn out, and have only a vague remembrance of the gentle care with which Zelie St. Aubyn undressed me, and arranged my pillow and the bed-clothes. She kissed me, and showed me her bed next to mine, telling me I was always to come to her for anything I wanted, and that she would have stayed with me till I was asleep, but she was obliged to go to attend to some of the little ones who were under her especial care. I remember watching, half asleep, her slender figure and flowing golden curls, as she passed between the lines of snowy beds, and dreaming of her as an angel afterwards, confusing her image with that of my little sister Flora, who had died years ago. When I awoke in the morning, Zelie was standing by my side, smiling at my lengthened slumbers; some of the windows were opened, and I could feel the fresh warm morning air breathing in upon me, and hear the voices of the girls passing from the classe to the refectoire. They had risen and dressed so quietly, as not to disturb "la pauvre petite malade," and while the kind Zelie was fastening my dress, I glanced with pleasure round the lofty, well-ventilated room; the beds all an equal distance apart (three feet of distance, as I afterwards learned, being required by the government); and an inspector comes round at uncertain intervals to every establishment of the sort, to see that all the numerous sanitary regulations are fully carried out. Certainly, madame need at no time have dreaded M. l'Inspecteur's appearanceeverything was always perfectly neat, clean, and well arranged. The breakfast was quite plain, of course, but good and nourishing; and no restraint—as was then so much the case in English schools-was placed upon the appetites of the pupils; at any of the meals, all might have as much of the wholesome and palatable fare before them as they thought proper. There was a great deal of fruit on the table; and at twelve o'clock more fruit, and a large slice of bread, was served to those who chose, and called the goûter. The dinner was, as the breakfast, plain, but very good; poultry, and many other things we are accustomed to consider as luxuries almost in England, forming part of the every-day meal; and this is universally the case in French schools. Of the course of instruction I need not speak ; the effect was the same as everywhere else: those who chose to work made progress, those who were idle remained dunces. Such was univer sally the case when I was a school-girl; and, as far as I can judge, the present generation find it so still. The royal road to learning being, now as then, a terra incognita. The leaders of the school were Melanie le Grand -and, to think that I should have omitted to place her name first!-the most noble and highly descended Mademoiselle Sempronie Baronne de Viefville, of the Château Langes, in the province of Picardy. She was the pride and glory of the school in madame's eyes, who never ceased rejoicing at the fact of having a real live Baronne among her somewhat bourgeoise community; and on all occasions endeavoured to make her take precedence of Melanie, who was the daughter of a rich Lyonese silk-weaver, and whose high spirits, talents, good humour, and liberality, made her an unbounded favourite with all belonging to the establishment-pupils, teachers, masters, and servants. and affording the eldest sister sufficient instruction to enable her to pass the government examen, without which no one in France is allowed to be the head of a school, or governess in a private family. Zelie studied very diligently every moment of time she could spare from her duties as a teacher; for she felt how important it was to gain a situation where she could maintain herself and her little sister, besides the hope of being able to add a few comforts to their poor father's melancholy life. She was quite advanced in life, in our estimation, being nearly one-and-twenty; and I at first thought Melanie and Sempronie were jealous of one so much older entering into competition with them, and thought it unfair; but although Zelie possessed considerable powers of mind, she had been but imperfectly educated, and the brilliant Melanie could have surpassed her with Sempronie's respect for her own high descent ease if she chose; and I think the principal was so unbounded, that she seemed to imagine cause of Sempronie's dislike arose from her herself sent on earth solely for the contempla- firm steady defence of the younger children tion of the fact that her family could trace their against La Baronne's capricious tyranny. Sorgenealogy up to Charlemagne. It was curious row and early trial had made poor Zelie thoughtto see a young girl so absorbed with a feeling ful and subdued beyond her years; and she that is usually only powerful with persons of took so little part in the frivolous conversation much maturer years; but she felt that her only of the elder girls, and though gentle, was so claims to distinction were in this long pedigree grave, and almost reserved, that madame's gay of hers, and noticed it accordingly. She had spirit felt her presence a check, and she had got some shrewdness, but was too indolent in her into a habit of laughing at and teazing the poor studies to surpass those much below her in age; girl, often really without intending to make her her face and figure, she was aware, had none unhappy. They were all, however, very kind to of the charms of Melanie's easy movements, me; and when Sempronie found that I came of rounded form, long hair, brown eyes, and rich" kenned folk," she generously treated me as complexion; and her fortune being small, even for a member of the old French nobility, to whom the revolution has in general left but little wealth, her present allowance enabled her neither to dress as Melanie did, when visiting her friends in the town (for in school we all wore an uniform), or to be so lavish in her generosity to those around her, even had she been so inclined, which I am not clear would have been the case. There was one point, however, on which she and Sempronie acted with wonderful unanimity, and that was in tormenting Zelie, my first acquaintance in the school. She was a sort of pupil- leader, taking charge of some of the younger children's wardrobes, and superintending their lessons, in return for the instruction given to herself and little sister. She was the daughter of a French Huguenot clergyman, of very limited means. Her mother had died about two years before, of grief for the loss of her only son, a fine promising lad, who had just entered the army; and these and other sorrows had so weighed upon the poor father's mind, that it gave way under the pressure. His congregation, by whom he was much beloved, subscribed a sufficient sum to procure him an admittance into one of the many admirably managed asylums for the insane with which France abounds, and the remainder of the sum was paid over to Madame Chèly, on condition of her receiving Zelie and Susanne into her establishment, on the terms I befere mentioned, one whom she might address without too much degrading the "sang aïeul" of the Viefvilles. I still adhered to my first friend Zelie, but I liked much to be with one so warm-hearted and merry as Melanie; and generally on the halfholiday afternoons would bring my book or work to her side, and seat myself on the corner of her dress, which she would spread out on the grass for " la petite ecossaise," and either listen to her lively conversation, or lose myself in the fairyland that reading then presented to me. For though our heads understand better in afteryears the meaning of the authors we read, our imagination is cold and dead to what it was, when every word painted a living picture to our mental sight, realized and dwelt on with all the enthusiasm of childhood. The two St. Aubyns and myself, being the only protestants in the family, we attended Divine service together on Sundays, an elderly servant, a sort of housekeeper, going with us to the church door, and leaving us there, to proceed further on to the place of her own devotions. It once or twice occurred that we had to wait a few minutes, on leaving the church, before we could see Ninette; and on these occasions, Zelie and her sister were accosted by a lady in a widow's dress, who called Suzanne ma petit fillenle, and the elder sister ma bonne fille; I came in for a share of notice too, and to my intense delight was one day included in an invitation to pass the following Thursday evening!at her house. "There would be two or three other young people," she said; "and perhaps they would dance a little," and then, in a significant manner, she added to Zelie, "Victor too will be there." The involuntary pressure of the little hand that held mine, the flush of colour, the glistening eye, convinced me that Victor's must be a very welcome presence indeed. In my simplicity I imagined he must be their brother, and I expressed my surprise to Suzanne on our road home that I had never heard of their having one living. Victor is not our brother," said Suzanne, opening her serious grey eyes very wide, "Victor was a friend of ours when poor mamma was alive, and we were all happy; he has never forgotten us, he often tells Zelie. "Suzanne, look where you are walking," said Zelie, more sharply than I had ever heard her speak before," and do not talk so loud nor so fast-what a 'bavarde' you have become!" I could get nothing more out of Suzanne; but I pondered greatly over the surmise I had formed that this unknown Victor must be a lover of Zelie's-how strange! And yet it was not altogether so extraordinary either; she was not so handsome as Melanie, that was certain; but her soft blue eyes and fair subdued face, with the golden curls falling round it, were very lovely-perhaps she might even have attained to the dignity of being engaged. To think of that! It was true she was old; but people did sometimes marry even at two or three and twenty, and Zelie was not so much as that yet. I was sitting, the following day, on the turf, under the great walnut tree, by the side of Melanie, pondering on all these things, when my attention became at last attracted to the conversation around me. Helen Beaumont, the only English girl in the school, was saying, in her quiet earnest voice "But surely, Sempronie, you would think it wrong to marry any one you did not love at all, who was chosen for you, not even by your parents, but by this great uncle of yours, because he was rich or had a title. Besides, you would be so miserable." "You need not distress yourself, Helen, about Sempronie's feelings," said Melanie, with a laugh; "they are so entirely occupied with herself, that her husband's personal or mental qualities would not make the slightest difference to her. Now, a few livres de rente, more or less, would be of some importance to her own individual comfort." "But I have heard you, Melanie, say the same thing, and you are as warm-hearted and unselfish as possible; besides, it seems so wicked to promise to devote your life to making a person happy whom you feel all the while, in your own heart, you do not love at all, and, therefore can never keep your word." "That is so like an English girl," said Melanie. "My dear Helen, what is the good of taking things au grand serieux? Life was given us to be merry in, not to mope through as you would do. Tiens! if my step | mother finds me a husband, tolerably young, and not ugly enough a faire peur, who will let me do as I please, have a house in Paris and a box at the opera, and give me plenty of cashmeres and laces, I will make her a low curtsy, and say, Grand mercie, belle maman. One must marry some time or other; besides, one can do as one likes then." "All French girls do not think so, though," said I. "I am sure Zelie-" I stopped, embarrassed, remembering how dishonourable it would be to mention surmises which I saw were unshared by the rest. Luckily Helen came to my assistance. "Zelie would not think so, you fancy. I never heard her discuss the subject, so I cannot tell you.” "She, at least, will never marry," said Sempronie, tossing her head—“ so ugly, so old, and of no family at all." "Et sans dot, aussi," added Melanie maliciously. La Baronne fired up at this, for it was wellknown that she was "a tocherless lass, wi' a lang pedigree," and a sharp skirmish ensued between the fair rivals, while I stole away, as I usually did when they began their contentions, to Zelie's side; she was sitting at work, Suzanne standing opposite to her, and speaking with great energy. I found that the child had overheard the last part of the conversation under the walnut tree, and, with her little heart full of indignation, was repeating it to her sister. "Hush! Suzanne," said Zelie, "it was not intended for me to hear, and very likely was said in jest; besides, what does it matter if I am old and ugly? you will love me all the same, and the good God looks into our hearts, and judges us by what he finds there, and not by the beauty of our faces." "And Victor loves you too," said the child; "I am sure he does very much, for he told me once." Zelie coloured up violently, and hastened to impose silence on Suzanne, and send her away to perform some childish task; but her own fingers moved slowly at their work, and, at length, she laid it down with a deep sigh. The wished-for Thursday evening at length arrived, and very pretty Zelie looked, when the dark-blue school uniform was exchanged for a nicely-fitting fresh muslin dress, and her long golden curls were exquisitely arranged round her fair pure face, lighted up with a glow of pleasure and excite ment. I heard even Sempronie remark, as she passed through the school-room, that that little sous-maîtresse was almost tolerable-looking this evening, only she was so badly dressed. now "Nonsense! her white frock looks clean and nice enough," said the more goodnatured Melanie, "What would Mademoiselle la Baronne have?" "We had a charming evening at Madame Arnaud's. We played proverbs, acted charades, N danced, sang, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. | then, into the few letters the discreet MaVictor was there. He was a good-looking dame Arnaud permitted the lovers to transyoung Frenchman, with an air of great intelli- mit through her hands. There was but little gence and vivacity in his brown eyes, and the cheering in them, beyond the expressions of lower part of his face showed firmness and re-affection they contained, and the indications of solution, while his smile was soft and kindly; how kind and manly a heart had dictated them he looked like one capable of battling with It was evident, even to my childish ideas, that the world, and whose spirits would not be cast Victor's struggle in life was destined to be a down at the first unsuccessful attempt. Towards hard one, and that a long time must elapse the end of the evening, when Zelie and I were before the young practitioner would be able to standing together a little behind the rest, Victor set up for himself in his profession, much less seized the opportunity, after bringing her a seat find it sufficiently lucrative to enable him to and some refreshment, to have a little further maintain a wife. conversation on their mutual plans; for I soon found out they were formally betrothed to each other." "This time to-morrow," said he, "I shall be in Paris again, my short holiday over, and I have only seen you once, Zelie." "It could not be helped," she said, with a little sigh, "and it was very kind in your aunt to ask me here this evening. I must work hard, Victor," she went on, after a little pause; "I am so deficient, and there is so much to be learned, and so much depending on me." shall have established myself in some good "But soon, Zelie," he answered eagerly, "I practice or other; this situation I have got now promises a capital opening; and then, you know" but he sunk his voice so low that I could not hear what he said, and I would have moved away, but Zelie had hold of my hand. On our way home, as Suzanne was a little behind with old Ninette, I ventured to say something to Zelie of what I conjectured, and of the pleasure I felt at the idea that she would not have to pass her life in the irksome employ ment of teaching; and, as the poor girl's heart was full of feelings for which she had no vent, she was pleased even with my childish sympathy, and made me the confidante of her simple love-affair. She had been engaged to Victor Fromont ever since she was eighteen; he had then fairer prospects in life; as an uncle, in some reputation as a medical man, in Bordeaux, had promised to take him into partnership with him, and, finally, leave him his house and business; but this uncle, unknown to the rest of the family, had entered into speculations which turned out unfavourably, and dying suddenly, his property was sold by his creditors, and Victor, whose parents were both dead, was left with no other relation but the aunt, Madame Arnaud, at whose house we had met him. He was clever and industrious, and having managed to complete his studies by dint of the strictest economy, his abilities and conduct had just succeeded in gaining him a situation, about which, however, we neither of us knew anything, beyond that it was connected with the Hôtel Dieu, and that he was delighted at having attained it; but that was enough to give Zelie a brighter face than usual for some days. I was excessively proud and elated at having been made the repository of such a weighty secret, and being allowed a little peep, now and In the mean time, Christmas was approaching, and Zelie was anxiously considering what she could purchase with the small sum she had laid by for that purpose, as a NewYear's present to Victor. "You know, Bessie," she said, when people are not rich one must not give them merely pretty useless things, when there are so many others they really want. I must speak to Madame Arnaud about it." it should be something very useful, but could That lady, when applied to, quite agreed that and that Zelie might buy the materials for very not decide what; at last I suggested that shirts were exceedingly necessary articles of clothing, little, comparatively, and make them herself, she worked so fast. The reader must please to remember that this was a considerable time ago, before ready-made shirts were so cheap and universally worn as at the present time. Zelie, idea, and was proceeding to try and hit upon however, laughed heartily at the unromantic something a little less prosaic; but Madame Arnaud approved of it highly, and declared that she would undertake to have them made; Zelie had already more than enough employment for her little leisure time, and she wanted some work to give to a protegée of hers to do. On our return home it occurred to us what a delightful thing it would be for poor Victor to have one with a handsomely-worked front, as he had some friends in Paris who occasionally invited him to their house; and he was so good and prudent, Zelie said, that he never allowed himself any extravagance in his dress, and he would be so pleased to find a handsome one, for an evening, among the others. So I coaxed Melanie to lend me some of her beautiful embroidery patterns, and we selected one we thought most suitable, and I undertook to do part of it, as, thanks to Zelie's patient assiduity in teaching me, I could do that sort of work pretty well. When it was finished, two days before le Jour de l'An, Madame Arnaud sent us the one destined to receive the honour of the worked front, for us to put it in; it was to go back to her that evening, to be despatched on the morrow, with its comrades, for Paris. It was the early winter twilight, candles were not brought in, and the girls were keeping themselves warm with dancing, making a prodigious clatter with the sabots they almost all of them wore; and very comfortable they were, with their thick woollen socks underneath, worn |
