In Madeira Place | Page 4

so bountiful, so thoughtful!
"Mais--how you mean?" (with surprise.)
Why,--and there is a certain pathos in Mr. Fox's tone, as he stands facing Sorel, with the gaze of a loving, reproachful friend,--why, how many of the Frenchmen of this quarter are ever seen now at the pleasant gatherings of the Republicans, in the wardroom? The Republic, the Republicans,--it is all one. Is that quite kind to the Republic? Should not her French children, on their part, show filial devotion to the fond government?
"Mais," M. Sorel swiftly explains, "they are weary of going; they understand nothing. One sits and smokes a little while, and one talks; then one puts a little ticket into one's hand; one is jammed into a long file; one slips his ticket into a box; he knows not for whom he is voting; it is like a flock of sheep. What is the use of going?"
Ah! that is the trouble? Then they are unjustly reproached. The government has indeed neglected to guide them. But suppose that some officer of the government--Mr. Fox himself, for instance--will be at the meeting? Then can M. Sorel induce those good French citizens to come?
Induce them! They will be only too ready; in fact, at a word from M. Sorel, and particularly when the news of this great honor to Fid��le shall have spread abroad, twenty, thirty, forty will go to every meeting,--that is, if a friend be there to guide them. At the very next meeting, monsieur shall see whether the great government's French children are neglectful!
Whereupon the great government, in the person of Mr. Fox, then and there falls in spirit upon the neck of her French citizen-children, represented by Sorel and Fid��le, and full reconciliation is made.
Yes, Mr. Fox will come again. M. Sorel must introduce him to those brave Frenchmen, his friends and neighbors; Mr. Fox must grasp them by the hand, one by one. Sorel must take him to the Soci��t�� des Franco-Am��ricains, where they gather. The government wishes to know them better. And (this in a confidential whisper) there may be other places to be filled. What! Suppose, now, that the government should some day demand the services of M. Sorel himself in the custom-house; and, since he is a business man, at a still larger salary than a thousand dollars a year!
"Ah, monsieur" (in a tone of playful reproach), "vous ��tes un flatteur, n'est ce pas? You know,--I guess you giv'n' me taffy."
Such a hero as Fid��le is! No more balloons, no more carting about of "ma musique;" a square room upstairs, a bottle of wine at dinner, short hours, distinction,--in fine, all that the heart can wish.
I have been speaking in the present: I should have spoken in the past.
It was shortly after Fid��le's appointment--in the early autumn--that I first made his and Sorel's acquaintance.
I was teaching in an evening school, not far from Madeira Place, and among my scholars was Sorel's only son, a boy of perhaps fourteen, whom his father had left behind, for a time, at school in France, and had but lately brought over. He was a shy, modest, intelligent little fellow, utterly out of place in his rude surroundings. From the pleasant village home-school, of which he sometimes told me, to the Maison Sorel, was a grating change.
He was always waiting for me at the schoolroom door, and was always the last one to speak to me at closing. Perhaps I reminded him of some young usher whom he had known when life was more pleasant.
If, however, the Maison Sorel chafed Auguste, it was not for lack of affection on his father's part Sorel often came with him to the door of the school-room; and every night, rain or shine, he was there at nine to accompany him home. It was in this way that I first came to know Sorel; and whether it was from some kindness that Auguste may have thought I showed, or because I could talk a little French, Sorel took a great liking to me. At first, he and Auguste would walk with me a few blocks after school; then he would look in upon me for a few minutes at the law-office where I was studying, where I had a large anteroom to myself; finally, nothing would do but that I should visit him at his house. I had always been fond of strolling about the wharves, and I should have liked very well to stop occasionally at Sorel's, if I could have been allowed to sit in the kitchen and hear the general conversation. But this was not sufficient state for "M. le ma?tre d'��cole." I must be drawn off upstairs to the bedroom parlor, to hear of Auguste's virtues. Such devotion I have seldom seen. Sorel would have praised Auguste, with tears in