The Story of The Little Mamsell | Page 2

to be had very
cheap. Then I went over and bought some. Mamsell Manon was in the
shop, and laughed till she cried over my way of speaking. Then I got
angry, and when I brought my Baron the wine I said that I wasn't going
again to that stupid Mamsell who couldn't even understand German.
The next day my master was for sending me again, but I rebelled. 'Herr
Baron,' I said, 'you can give me the whip because I'm only a servant,
but I won't go again to that silly girl opposite, and if you make me I'll
accuse you to the authorities of being an aristocrat. We're all free and
equal now, I can understand that much French, and I'll be sorry if you
have to go to the "Gartine," but I won't be ill-treated!'
"My Baron looked at me queerly, but he listened to reason, and I didn't
have to go to the Mamsell again because he went himself. And then he
made friends with Mamsell Manon, and she came over and brought the
King's wine herself. When I knew her better she wasn't bad; she

laughed a good deal, and sang all the time like a little bird, but one can't
go against nature. And she was a good girl too, for once when my
Baron put his arm around her and tried to kiss her, she boxed his ears. I
never knew my master could look such a fool. The fine gentlemen don't
always get their way."
Mahlmann nodded once or twice and ate some crumbs of cake before
he went on.
"No, they don't always get their way," he continued. "My Baron wanted
to stay longer in Paris, though many of his noble friends lay already in
the lime-pit with their heads off. He didn't want to go away, and sat half
the day in the shop with Mamsell Manon, and said a Dane wasn't afraid
of the French--they'd not do anything to him! Things never turn out as
one expects, and one evening my Baron was fetched away by a couple
of long soldiers. That was unpleasant I can tell you. My master had
been at me sometimes with the whip, and I didn't care specially about
him; but to be all alone in such a crazy town where there's not a
Christian that understands a word you say, it's enough to give you the
horrors. Then the next morning Mamsell Manon came and talked to me,
and cried dreadfully, and stroked my cheeks, and I understood her all
right in spite of that jabbering French. Mamsell thought a cousin of
hers had got the Baron put in prison, because he was jealous. I don't
know what more she said, but I soon found out what she wanted, and
my hair stood on end. She wanted to borrow my confirmation suit that I
had only had on three times; once at the confirmation, then for
communion, and then when I came to the Baron to apply for the place.
It was lying in my trunk because I had always worn livery, and when
the French wouldn't have liveries any more, the Baron gave me an old
gray suit of his. When Mamsell insisted upon having my best clothes I
naturally said, 'nong, nong,' and shook my head till I was dizzy, but
Manon patted me and coaxed me, and sure as the world she got her way,
as women always do. All at once I had got my trunk unlocked and she
ran away with my confirmation coat and all the rest of the tilings. And I
was still looking after her with my mouth open, when she came back
dressed like a man!"

Mahlmann was silent for a moment and wrapped himself with a shiver
in his red coat.
"Dear me! how cold it always is now; it used to be warm in July.
Things never turn out as one expects. The little Mamseli had promised
me faithfully I should have my good clothes back--yes, indeed--bless
you! But I must say she looked downright pretty in my best black suit,
and I saw why she hadn't worn clothes of the Baron's, or of her own
father's. He was short and fat, and the Baron was tall and
broad-shouldered, and the little one would not have looked well in their
things. Now she looked like a real boy, and like two boys we ran to one
of the many prisons where the aristocrats were, I With a basket and she
with a basket, with bread and writing-paper, and we took them to the
wife of one of the gaolers who earned a lot of money by selling them.
The aristocrats were always writing letters, which shows what
do-nothings they were; for an honest man