Chapter XIV: Theresa

My little mistresses, (for my masters and mistresses corresponded to the number of the grandmother’s grandchildren,) had a cousin, of whom they were very fond. She was near their age, and their most intimate friend. Theresa was her name, and a good, kind little darling she was. She never touched me with a switch, and never permitted anyone to do so when she was on my back.

In one of our promenades, my young mistresses came upon a little girl seated along the roadside. She rose at their approach and came limping towards them, asking alms. They were all touched at her sad, dejected appearance.

“Why do you limp, little one?” said Theresa.

“Because my shoes hurt me, miss.”

“Why don’t you ask your mamma to get you another pair?”

“I have no mamma, miss.”

“Ask your papa, then?”

“I have no papa, miss.”

“But with whom do you live?”

“With nobody, I live alone.”

“Who feeds you?”

“Sometimes nobody, sometimes everybody.”

“How old are you?”

“I do not know, miss, about seven years perhaps.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“Wherever anybody takes me in; when everybody drives me away, I sleep out-doors, under a tree, near a hedge, anywhere.”

“But in winter you must freeze.”

“I get cold, but I am used to it,”

“Have you had any dinner to-day?”

“I have not eaten since yesterday.”

“Oh! that is dreadful, dreadful,” said Theresa, with tears in her eyes. “My dear cousins, wouldn’t your grandma give this poor little thing something to eat and let her sleep in the castle?”

“Certainly,” answered the three cousins, “grandma would be delighted, and, besides, she always does what we wish her to do.”

“But, Theresa,” said Beatrice, “how shall we get her to the house? see how she limps.”

“Put her on Cadichon, and let us go on foot, instead of taking turns on Cadichon, two by two, as we have been doing.”

“Oh, to be sure; what a good idea,” exclaimed the three cousins.

They put the little girl on my back, and Maud gave her a piece of bread that had been left of their lunch. She was delighted to get a ride, but so great were her fatigue and hunger, that she ate the bread with avidity, and said nothing.

When we reached home, Maud and Elizabeth took the child into the kitchen, whilst Beatrice and Theresa ran to their grandmother. “Grandma,” said Beatrice, “will you let us give a good little girl that we found on the road something to eat?”

“Certainly, my darling; but who is she?”

“I don’t know, grandma.”

“Where does she live?”

“Nowhere, grandma.”

“Nowhere! how is that? Her parents must live somewhere.”

“She has no parents, grandma, she is all alone.”

“And,” said Theresa, timidly, “will you let the poor little thing sleep here?”

“If she really has no home, I could not turn her away; but I must see her and speak to her.”

So saying, she arose and went to the kitchen where the little girl was finishing her meal. She called the child, who came limping, questioned her and obtained the same replies. It was truly an embarrassing case. To send this child away, plunging her again into the state of abandonment and suffering from which she had just been rescued, would be impossible; but then what was to be done with her? who was to take charge of and raise her?

“Listen, my dear,” said the grandmother, “you will eat and sleep here, whilst I make inquiries as to the truth of your account, and in a few days I will see what I can do for you.”

She then gave orders to prepare a bed for the child, and not to let her want for anything; but the poor little creature was so filthy that no one wished to touch her or even come near her. Theresa was in despair; she could not insist upon her aunt’s servants doing what was so repugnant to them.

“It was I,” thought she, “who brought her here, and I am the one to have the care and trouble. But how shall I do?”

After a moment’s reflection, an idea presented itself.

“Wait, my dear,” said she, “I will be back presently.” And she ran to her mamma.

“Mamma,” said she, “ought I not to take a bath?”

“Yes, Theresa, go now, your nurse is waiting for you.”

“Mamma, instead of taking a bath myself, would you let me give one to the little girl we have brought here?”

“What little girl? I have not seen her.”

“A poor, poor little thing, who has no papa, no mamma, no one to take care of her, who sleeps out-doors, and eats only what people give her. Maud’s grandma says she may stay at the castle, but none of the servants will touch her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she is so dirty, so dirty, she is disgusting; then mamma, if you are willing, I will bathe her in my place, not to disgust nurse. I will undress and soap her myself, and I will cut her hair, which is all tangled and full of little white insects.”

“But, my little Theresa, won’t it disgust you too, to touch and wash her?”

“A little, mamma, but when I think that if I were in her place, it would make me so happy to have somebody care for me, I feel encouraged. And mamma, when she is washed, will you let me put some of my old clothes on her, till I buy her new ones?”

“Certainly, my dear little Theresa, but how can you buy her clothing? You have only two or three francs, about enough to get her a chemise.”

“Oh! mamma, you forgot my twenty franc piece!”

“That you gave your papa to keep for you, so you would not spend it? I thought you were saving that to buy a beautiful prayer book like Maud’s.”

“I would rather do without the beautiful prayer book, mamma, I still have my old one.”

“Do as you wish, my child, whenever there is a question of doing good, I leave you free to use your own pleasure.”

Her mamma embraced her, and then went with her to see this little girl that no one would touch.

“If she has any disease of the skin, that Theresa can catch, I shall not let Theresa touch her,” said the mother.

The little girl still waited at the door. A careful examination of her hands and body revealed no traces of disease, but a great deal of dirt. Her hair was so full of vermin, that making her sit on the grass, Theresa’s mamma cut it close to her head, without touching it with her hands. When it was all on the grass, she took it up on a shovel, and told one of the servants to throw it away out of reach. Then in a tub of tepid water, with Theresa’s assistance, she gave the little beggar’s head a thorough washing and cleaning. Having wiped it, she said to Theresa: “Now, my pet, whilst you give her a bath, I will throw these rags in the fire.” Maud, Beatrice and Elizabeth came to Theresa’s assistance; they all four led her into the bath room and undressed her, in spite of the disgusting odor of her rags and dirt. Then eagerly plunging her in the water, they soaped her from head to foot. The operation was such a pleasant one to all parties, both the little girl and her friends, that she was kept in somewhat longer than necessity required. When the bathing was over, and she had expressed her satisfaction, the four assisted her out of the bath tub. Then after wiping and rubbing her skin until it was very red and as dry as a ham bone, they arrayed her in a chemise, a petticoat and a dress belonging to Theresa, all of which answered the purpose, because Theresa, like other little girls in her station, wore her clothes very short, whilst the little beggar’s were expected to reach her ankles. The waist was somewhat long, but not being excessively particular, everyone was pleased. When about to put on her shoes and stockings, the children perceived a sore upon the instep. It was this which had made her limp. Maud immediately ran to her grandmother for some salve. The grandmother gave what was necessary, and Maud, assisted by her three friends, one of whom steadied the little girl, whilst a second held her foot, and a third unrolled the bandage and applied the liniment. They were nearly one quarter of an hour arranging a compress and band; sometimes it was too tight, sometimes not tight enough; the band was too high, or the compress too low; they disputed and jerked the sore foot first this way and then that, the owner, meanwhile, not daring to object or utter a complaint. At last, however, the bandage was arranged satisfactorily, a pair of Theresa’s old stockings and slippers put on her feet, and the little beggar relieved of her kind waiting maids’ attentions. When she returned to the kitchen no one recognized her.

“This is certainly not the little fright that just went out of here,” said one servant.

“It is the same child,” replied another servant, “but no one would know it, she looks so genteel now.”

“It is all lost time for Madame d’Arbe and the children to fix her up like that. As for me, I would not have touched her if they had given me twenty francs,” said the cook.

“And she smelt so bad,” said the kitchen girl.

“You ought not to have such a sensitive nose, my fair one,” replied the coachman, “you who have your gridirons, your saucepans and all such things to clean.”

“My gridirons and saucepans are not strong of the stable, like some people I know,” was the kitchen girl’s answer, somewhat piqued.

“Ah! ah! ah! she is angry, take care of the broom!” said the other servants.

“If she takes hers, I know very well where to find mine,” said the coachman, “and the pitchfork and curry-comb.”

“Come, come,” interposed the cook, “don’t go too far; she is passionate, and you know you must not irritate her.”

“What is that to me? if she gets angry, so will I.”

“But I do not want that here; madam does not like disputes; it is very certain that we all would come in for a share of the blame.”

“Le Vatel is right,” said another servant. “Hush, Thomas, you are always getting up a quarrel. Besides, this is not your place.”

“Indeed! my place is anywhere, when I have no stable work to do.”

“But you have work to do,” replied the cook. “Look at Cadichon, not yet unsaddled, and walking up and down like a countryman waiting for his dinner.”

“I believe Cadichon listens at the doors; he is more cunning than he seems; he is a real scamp of a donkey,” said the coachman, as he called me, and taking hold of my bridle, led me to the stable. Having unbridled and unsaddled me, he left me alone, that is, with two horses and another donkey, with none of whom I ever deigned to converse.

I know not what took place that evening at the castle, but the next afternoon I was saddled, and with the little beggar on my back, my four little mistresses following on foot, we all went to the village. I learned from their conversation that they were on a shopping expedition for their protégé. Theresa wished to furnish the outfit entire, the others insisted on paying their share, and the dispute grew so animated, that had I not stopped at the store of myself, they would have passed it. In helping the little girl to get down, they nearly pitched her face foremost on the ground, for all darted at her at once; one caught her by the legs, another by the arms, a third by the waist, whilst Elizabeth, who was stronger than two or three of the others put together, pushed them away so that she could help the child off all by herself. Pulled here and there, the poor thing began to cry of fright, until she attracted the attention of passers by. The store-keeper opened the door:

“Good morning, young ladies, let me help you, you are not strong enough to lift this little girl.”

My young mistresses, satisfied at not having yielded to one another, relinquished their hold on the child and the store-keeper immediately lifted her off my back.

“What will you have, young ladies?” said Madam Juivet.

“We want to get materials for clothing for this little girl,” answered Beatrice.

“Oh, certainly; is it a dress, a petticoat, or undergarments you wish?”

“We want materials for all, Madam Juivet,” answered Maud; “let us have enough to make three chemises, one petticoat, one dress, one apron, one neckerchief, two bonnets.”

“Let me speak, Maud,” whispered Theresa, “since I am going to pay.”

“No, you are not going to pay all, we wish to pay part,” was the whispered answer.

“But I would rather pay alone,” said Theresa in the same tone, “she is my girl.”

“No, she isn’t, she belongs to us all,” said Maud.

“What materials do you prefer?” interrupted Madam Juivet, impatient to sell.

Whilst Maud and Theresa continued their dispute in an undertone, Beatrice and Elizabeth took advantage of the opportunity to make the purchases.

“Good-bye, Madam Juivet,” said they, “send it home as soon as possible, and enclose the bill also.”

“How is that!” exclaimed Maud and Theresa, “have you already bought the things?”

“Yes,” answered Beatrice, with a mischievous air, “we selected all that was necessary whilst you two were talking.”

“But you ought to have consulted our tastes too,” replied Maud.

“Certainly, since I am the person who pays,” said Theresa.

“We’ll all pay, we’ll all pay!” cried the other three in chorus.

“How much is it?” inquired Theresa.

“Thirty-two francs, miss.”

“Thirty-two francs!” exclaimed the frightened Theresa, “but I have only twenty.”

“Ah! we’ll pay the rest,” said Maud.

“So much the better, as we will then have all helped to clothe her,” said Elizabeth.

“So thanks to Madam Juivet, we are at last agreed, and it was not such an easy matter,” said Beatrice laughing.

Through the open door, I had heard all, and was indignant at Madam Juivet, for she had charged my kind little mistresses at least double the value of their goods. I hoped their mammas would not consent to the imposition. We returned home, every one pleased, thanks to Madam Juivet, as Beatrice had innocently remarked.

It was beautiful weather, and all were seated on the lawn in front of the house when we arrived. William, Henry, Louis and James had been fishing in one of the ponds, during our trip to the village, and had just returned with three fine fishes and a number of little ones. Whilst Louis and James took off my saddle and bridle, the four little girls gave their mammas an account of their purchases.

“What did they come to?” said Theresa’s mamma. “How much is left of your twenty franc piece?”

Theresa was a little embarrassed, and blushed slightly as she answered:

“Nothing, mamma.”

“Nothing! twenty francs to dress a child six or seven years old!” said Maud’s mamma. “That is dreadfully high! what have you bought?”

Theresa could not tell, she could only say that Beatrice and Elizabeth had made the selection.

But the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Juivet with the package, much to the delight of Beatrice and Elizabeth, who were beginning to think they had made a bad bargain.

“Good day, Madam Juivet,” said the grandmother, “open your package here on the lawn and let us see what these little girls have bought.”

Making a salutation, Madam Juivet laid down her bundle, undid it, and after taking from it the bill, which she handed Beatrice, proceeded to display the goods.

Beatrice had blushed on receiving the bill; her grandmother took it from her hands and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Thirty-two francs to dress a little beggar! Madam Juivet,” added she, in a severe tone, “you have taken advantage of my grandchildren’s ignorance; you know very well that these materials are entirely too expensive for our purpose. You will take them all back, and know that hereafter we deal no more with you.”

“Madam,” said Madam Juivet, with restrained wrath, “these young ladies consulted their own tastes, I did not make the selection of a single article.”

“But you ought to have shown them only what was suitable, and not have tried to palm off on them your old merchandise that no one wants.”

“Madam, these young ladies having bought my goods, ought to pay for them.”

“They will pay for none of them,” replied the grandmother, in a tone of severity, “and you may take them all back. Go, immediately; I shall send my maid to make the necessary purchases of Madam Jourdan.”

Madam Juivet retired in a terrible rage. I accompanied her to the road, braying triumphantly and frisking around her, much to the children’s amusement and her own terror, for feeling guilty, she feared my vengeance, as everybody considered me somewhat of a sorcerer, and consequently evil doers stood greatly in awe of me.

The mammas scolded the children, the boys laughed at them; as for me, I quietly nibbled the grass, and watched them run, skip and play. Listening meantime to all that was said (for I always took good care to keep within hearing distance). I learned that next day there was to be a gunning party, that Henry and William were to have little muskets for the occasion, and also, that one of their young neighbors was invited to join them.