Balcony Stories | Page 9

you know, has a
genius for stories. I assure you, Louise, I was desperate. I prayed to
God to help me, to advise me. I could not teach--I had no education; I
could not go into a shop--that would be dishonoring papa--and enfin, I
was too pretty. 'And proclaim to the world,' Clementine would cry, 'that
your papa does not make money for his family.' That was true. The
world is so malicious. You know, Louise, sometimes it seems to me the
world is glad to hear that a man cannot support his family; it
compliments those who can. As if papa had not intelligence, and honor,
and honesty! But they do not count now as in old times, 'before the
war.'
"And so, when I thought of that, I laughed and talked and played the
thoughtless like Clementine, and made bills. We made bills--we had
to--for everything; we could do that, you know, on our old name and
family. But it is too long! I am sure it is too long and tiresome! What
egotism on my part! Come, we will take a glass of anisette, and talk of
something else--your trip, your family. No? no? You are only asking
me out of politeness! You are so aimable, so kind. Well, if you are not
_ennuyée_--in fact, I want to tell you. It was too long to write, and I
detest a pen. To me there is no instrument of torture like a pen.
"Well, the lady next door, she was an American, and common, very
common, according to papa. In comparison to us she had no family
whatever. Our little children were forbidden even to associate with her
little children. I thought that was ridiculous--not that I am a democrat,
but I thought it ridiculous. But the children cared; they were so
disobedient and they were always next door, and they always had
something nice to eat over there. I sometimes thought Clementine used
to encourage their disobedience, just for the good things they got to eat
over there. But papa was always making fun of them; you know what a
sharp tongue he had. The gentleman was a clerk; and, according to
papa, the only true gentlemen in the world had family and a profession.
We did not dare allow ourselves to think it, but Clementine and I knew

that they, in fact, were in more comfortable circumstances than we.
"The lady, who also had a great number of children, sent one day, with
all the discretion and delicacy possible, and asked me if I would be so
kind as to--guess what, Louise! But only guess! But you never could!
Well, to darn some of her children's stockings for her. It was God who
inspired her, I am sure, on account of my praying so much to him. You
will be shocked, Louise, when I tell you. It sounds like a sin, but I was
not in despair when papa died. It was a grief,--yes, it seized the heart,
but it was not despair. Men ought not to be subjected to the humiliation
of life; they are not like women, you know. We are made to stand
things; they have their pride,--their orgueil, as we say in French,--and
that is the point of honor with some men. And Clementine and I, we
could not have concealed it much longer. In fact, the truth was crying
out everywhere, in the children, in the house, in our own persons, in
our faces. The darning did not provide a superfluity, I guarantee you!
"Poor papa! He caught cold. He was condemned from the first. And so
all his fine qualities died; for he had fine qualities--they were too fine
for this age, that was all. Yes; it was a kindness of God to take him
before he found out. If it was to be, it was better. Just so with
Clementine as with me. After the funeral--crack! everything went to
pieces. We were at the four corners for the necessaries of life, and the
bills came in--my dear, the bills that came in! What memories! what
memories! Clementine and I exclaimed; there were some bills that we
had completely forgotten about. The lady next door sent her brother
over when papa died. He sat up all night, that night, and he assisted us
in all our arrangements. And he came in afterward, every evening. If
papa had been there, there would have been a fine scene over it; he
would have had to take the door, very likely. But now there was no one
to make objections. And so when, as I say, we were at the four corners
for the necessaries of life, he asked Clementine's permission to ask me
to marry him.
"I give you my word, Louise, I