In Madeira Place | Page 4

to
tell the story of Lookout Mountain.
As Mr. Fox is about to go, he recollects himself. Oh, by the way, one
thing more. It is not pleasant to mingle sadness with rejoicing. But Mr.
Fox is the reluctant bearer of a gentle reproach from the great

government at Washington. Her French children,--are they not just a
little remiss? And when she is 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 Fidèle 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 Fidèle, 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 Société des
Franco-Américains, 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 êtes un flatteur,
n'est ce pas? You know,--I guess you giv'n' me taffy."
Such a hero as Fidèle 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 Fidèle'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