A Modern Telemachus | Page 7

to ye, mother! And where is Victorine?'
'Arrah, and what would ye want with Victorine?' demanded the bonne.
'Is not the old mother enough for one while, to feast her eyes on her an'
Lanty Callaghan, now he has shed the marmiton's slough, and come out
in old Ireland's colours, like a butterfly from a palmer? La Jeunesse,
instead of Laurent here, and Laurent there.'
La Pierre and La Jeunesse were the stereotyped names of all pairs of
lackeys in French noble houses, and the title was a mark of promotion;
but Lanty winced and said, 'Have done with that, mother. You know
that never the pot nor the kettle has blacked my fingers since Master
Phelim went to the good fathers' school with me to carry his books and
insinse him with the larning. 'Tis all one, as his own body-servant that I
have been, as was fitting for his own foster-brother, till now, when not

one of the servants, barring myself and Maitre Hebert, the steward, will
follow Madame la Comtesse beyond the four walls of Paris. "Will you
desert us too, Laurent?" says the lady. "And is it me you mane,
Madame," says I, "Sorrah a Callaghan ever deserted a Burke!" "Then,"
says she, "if you will go with us to Sweden, you shall have two lackey's
suits, and a couple of louis d'or to cross your pocket with by the year,
forbye the fee and bounty of all the visitors to M. le Comte." "Is it M.
l'Abbe goes with Madame?" says I. "And why not," says she. "Then,"
says I, "'tis myself that is mightily obliged to your ladyship, and am
ready to put on her colours and do all in reason in her service, so as I
am free to attend to Master Phelim, that is M. l'Abbe, whenever he
needs me, that am in duty bound as his own foster- brother." "Ah,
Laurent," says she, "'tis you that are the faithful domestic. We shall all
stand in need of such good offices as we can do to one another, for we
shall have a long and troublesome, if not dangerous journey, both
before and after we have met M. le Comte."'
Estelle here nodded her head with a certain satisfaction, while the nurse
replied -
'And what other answer could the son of your father make--Heavens be
his bed--that was shot through the head by the masther's side in the
weary wars in Spain? and whom could ye be bound to serve barring
Master Phelim, that's lain in the same cradle with yees--'
'Is not Victorine here, mother?' still restlessly demanded Lanty.
'Never you heed Victorine,' replied she. 'Sure she may have a little
arrand of her own, and ye might have a word for the old mother that
never parted with you before.'
'You not going, mother!' he exclaimed.
''Tis my heart that will go with you and Masther Phelim, my jewel; but
Madame la Comtesse will have it that this weeny little darlint'--
caressing the child in her lap--'could never bear the cold of that bare
and dissolute place in the north you are bound for, and old Madame la
Marquise, her mother, would be mad entirely if all the children left her;
but our own lady can't quit the little one without leaving his own nurse
Honor with him!'
'That's news to me intirely, mother,' said Lanty; 'bad luck to it!'
Honor laughed that half-proud, half-sad laugh of mothers when their
sons outgrow them. 'Fine talking! Much he cares for the old mother if

he can see the young girl go with him.'
For Lanty's eyes had brightened at sight of a slight little figure, trim to
the last degree, with a jaunty little cap on her dark hair, gay trimmings
to the black apron, dainty shoes and stockings that came tripping down
the path. His tongue instantly changed to French from what he called
English, as in pathetic insinuating modulations he demanded how she
could be making him weary his very heart out.
'Who bade you?' she retorted. 'I never asked you to waste your time
here!'
'And will ye not give me a glance of the eyes that have made a cinder
of my poor heart, when I am going away into the desolate north, among
the bears and the savages and the heretics?'
'There will be plenty of eyes there to look at your fine green and gold,
for the sake of the Paris cut; though a great lumbering fellow like you
does not know how to show it off!'
'And if I bring back a heretic bru to break the heart of the mother, will
it not be all the fault of the cruelty of Mademoiselle Victorine?'
Here Estelle, unable to withstand Lanty's piteous intonations, broke in,
'Never