Chapter XVIII: The Baptism

William and Maud were to stand sponsors for a new born child, whose mother had been Maud’s nurse. Maud wanted them to call the baby after her.

“Not at all,” said William, “since I am godfather, I have the right to name her, and I wish to call her Pierrette.”

“Pierrette!” exclaimed Maud, “that’s a frightful name! I don’t want her named Pierrette, she shall be called Maud; as I am the godmother, I am the one who has the right to name her.”

“No, you haven’t, the godfather has the best right, and I shall call her Pierrette.”

“If she is to be named that, I won’t be godmother.”

“If she is to be named Maud, I won’t be godfather.”

“Just as you please about that, I can ask papa to take your place.”

“And I, Miss, can ask mamma to take your place.”

“Besides, I am quite sure aunt would not like her called Pierrette, it is too frightful and ridiculous.”

“And I am sure uncle would not like her called Maud, it is too horrible and stupid.”

“How did he happen to call me Maud then? Go to him and tell him you think it is a horrible, stupid name, go, my good man, and you will see how you will be received!”

“Well, you may say what you please, but I say I will not be godfather for any Maud.”

“Papa,” said Maud mischievously, running to her father, “will you stand godfather with me for little Maud?”

“What Maud, dear pet? I know no Maud but you.”

“My little godchild, papa, that I want called Maud when she is baptized to-day.”

“But William is to stand with you, and there cannot be two godfathers.”

“Papa, William does not wish to be godfather.”

“Why? what is the meaning of this whim?”

“Because he thinks Maud a horrible stupid name, and wants to call her Pierrette.”

“Pierrette! that would be horrible and stupid indeed!”

“It is just what I told him papa, but he would not believe me.”

“Listen, my daughter, try to reason with your cousin, and if he insists upon not being godfather unless the baby is named Pierrette, I will cheerfully stand in place of him.”

During Maud’s conversation with her father, William had run to his mother.

“Mamma,” said he, “will you stand godmother with me in Maud’s place, for the little girl that is to be baptized to-day.”

“Why is not Maud going to stand? it was a request of the baby’s mother that she would.”

“Mamma, Maud wants the baby named after her, I think her name too ugly, and as I am godfather, I want the baby called Pierrette.”

“Pierrette! that is frightful, William is pretty, but Pierrette is ridiculous!”

“Oh! mamma, please call her Pierrette—At any rate, I don’t want her called Maud.”

“But if neither of you will give up, how will you fix matters?”

“Mamma, that is why I came to ask you to stand for little Pierrette in place of Maud?”

“My poor William, I must tell you frankly, that I want no more of this Pierrette, the name is too ridiculous, besides, the child’s mother was Maud’s nurse, not yours, and you know very well, that she desires most particularly to have Maud for godmother. For my part, I think she would be pleased to have the baby called Maud.”

“Then, I can’t be godfather.”

At this instant Maud ran up, exclaiming:

“Well, William, have you decided? We start in an hour, and must have a godfather.”

“I am willing for her not to be called Pierrette, but I am not willing for her to be called Maud.”

“Well, since you have given up Pierrette, I will give up Maud. But let us ask nurse what name she wants baby called.”

“You are right; go ask her.”

Maud went running off to the baby’s mother and soon came back.

“William, William,” she exclaimed, “nurse wants her little daughter named Marie Maud.”

“Did you inquire if she ought not to be called Pierrette, as I am godfather?”

“Yes, I asked her, and she burst out laughing; mamma laughed too; they both said it was impossible, Pierrette was too ugly.”

William blushed slightly, however, as he himself had began to think Pierrette ridiculous, he sighed and said nothing more on that subject.

“Where are the sugar plums?” he asked.

“In a big basket that will be taken to the church, the boxes and wrappings are left here. They are all ready, let us see how many there are.” And they ran to the hall where everything was in readiness.

“What are these pennies for?” inquired William, “there seem to be nearly as many as sugar plums.”

“They are to be thrown to the school children,” said Maud.

“The school children? Are we going to the school after the baptism?”

“No, we are to throw these from the church door, where all the school children collect on such occasions; we throw them by the handful, and the children catch them or pick them up from the ground.”

“Did you ever see it done?”

“Never, but I have heard that it is very amusing.”

“I do not think I would like it, for I know very well the children fight and get hurt; besides I do not like the idea of flinging things to children as if they were dogs.”

“Maud, William, come see the baby, it has just arrived; we start shortly,” cried Beatrice, out of breath.

Both of them ran, trying to reach the baby first.

“Oh! how fine our godchild is!” said William.

“Yes, indeed,” replied Maud, “she has a dress embroidered all around, a lace bonnet, and a cloak lined with pink silk.”

“Did you give her all those pretty things?”

“Oh! no, I had not enough money; mamma paid for everything except the bonnet and I paid for it.”

All was ready; though the weather was fine the carriage was brought out for the baby and its nurse, and the sponsors only. Maud and William were in the carriage like important personages. They started. I, harnessed to the children’s little conveyance waited for them. Louis, Helen, James and Ruth took the back seats, Beatrice and Elizabeth the front to drive, whilst Henry climbed behind. The mammas, papas and nurses started at different intervals, so that some of them might be near us in case of accident; but this was only an excess of prudence, for with me they knew there was nothing to fear.

I set off in a gallop, notwithstanding my load, self-love excited me to overtake and even pass the carriage. I went like the wind and the children were enchanted.

“Bravo!” they cried. “Courage, Cadichon, keep on galloping! Hurrah for Cadichon, the king of donkeys!”

They clapped their hands and applauded.

“Bravo!” cried people whom I passed on the road. “Look at that donkey, he runs like a horse! Good luck and no upsets!”

The papas and mammas trudging along, were not so encouraging however, but wanted me to relax my speed, instead of which, I only galloped the faster. I was not very long in overtaking the carriage, and triumphantly did I dash past the horses, they looked at me with surprise. Feeling mortified at being overtaken by a donkey, especially as they had started first, they attempted a gallop, but the driver tightened his reins, and obliged them to relax their speed, whilst I hurried on faster than ever, so that when they reached the church door, my little masters and mistresses had all descended from the vehicle, whilst I, very warm and out of breath, was standing quietly hitched near the hedge for shade.

The parents on arriving, admired my swiftness, and complimented the children on their equipage.

The fact is we made quite a sensation, my carriage and I, I being well rubbed and curried, and decorated with variegated dahlias of red and white behind my ears, the harness polished and embellished with red mountings, and the vehicle repaired and varnished. We certainly presented a dashing appearance.

Through the open window, I witnessed the baptismal ceremony, the infant screamed as if it were being murdered, Maud and William, somewhat embarrassed at their honors, got confused in repeating the Creed, and the priest was obliged to prompt them. Poor little godfather and godmother, their eyes were suffused with tears, and their faces as red as cherries! However, their mistake was no unusual occurrence, and often happens with grown people.

Little Marie Maud being baptized, they went out of the church to throw sugar plums and pennies to the children collected around the door. As soon as the godfather and godmother appeared, all exclaimed; “Hurrah for the godmother! hurrah for the godfather!”

The basket of sugar plums was ready, it was handed Maud, whilst William received the basket of pennies. Taking a handful of the former, Maud let them fall in a shower among the children. This was the signal for a general battle, a faithful representation of starving dogs.

All rushed to the same spot, disputing every handful, both of sugar plums and pennies, as it was thrown; they tore one another’s hair, they struggled, they rolled over on the ground, and half the coveted articles were lost, crushed under foot or hidden in the grass. William did not laugh; nor Maud, after the first handful, for she saw that these battles were serious. For several of the children were crying, and others were badly scratched.

“You were right, William,” said she, as soon as they took their seats in the carriage, “the next time I am godmother, I shall give the children sugar plums, not throw them.”

“Nor I, the pennies,” said William, “I shall give them like you do the sugar plums.”

The carriage started off, and I did not hear the rest of their conversation.

My party now began to crowd in their vehicle, accompanied by the papas and mammas.

“Cadichon,” said Maud’s mamma, “has already produced a sensation, so now he can afford to return more quietly and take us with him.”

“Mamma,” said Beatrice, “do you like this custom of throwing the children sugar plums and pennies?”

“No, dear child, I find it a very ignoble custom, the children reminding one of dogs fighting for a bone. If ever I am godmother in this part of the country, I shall distribute the sugar plums among the children, instead of throwing them, and I shall give to the poor, the amount of money wasted in pennies flung at random.”

“You are right, mamma; please let me be godmother to do as you say.”

“As an absolute necessity for your fulfilling that office, we must have a baby to be baptized,” said the mamma, smiling, “and I know of none.”

“Oh, how provoking! I could be godmother with Henry. What would you call your godson, Henry.”

“Henry, of course, what would you call him?”

“Madelon.”

“Oh horror! Madelon! In the first place it is not a name.”

“It is as much of a name as Pierrette.”

“Pierrette is prettier, and besides you see that William yielded.”

“I could give up too,” replied Beatrice, “but we have time enough to think of it.”

We reached the castle, all got out of the carriage and hastened to lay aside their holiday attire; my trinkets and dahlias were also taken off and I was turned out to pasture, whilst the children ate their lunch.