des ananas--mon ami (to her husband)--maman--papa--voyez--voyez--des ananas._[14] Ah! my poorest Alphonse, great was his love for these--what you call them--apple de pine. He was just paring his apple de pine, when the detestable negroes rushed in and overset the table. _Ah! quel scene--une veritable tragedie!_[15] _Pardonnez_, Madame Colavering, I prefer a slice from the largest part of the fruit.--Ah! my amiable Alphonse--his blood flew all over my robe, which was of spotted Japan muslin. I wore that day a long sash of a broad ribbon of the colour of Aurore, fringed at both of its ends. When I was running away, he grasped it so hard that it came untied, and I left it in his hand.--May I beg the favour of some more sugar?--_Mon ami_, you always prefer the pine-apple bathed in Champagne."
[Footnote 14: "Ah! pine-apples--my dear--(to her husband)--mamma--papa--see--see--pine-apples!"]
[Footnote 15: Ah! what a scene--a real tragedy!]
"Yes," replied Franchimeau, "it does me no good, unless each slice is soaked in some wine of fine quality." But Mrs. Clavering acknowledging that she had no Champagne in the house, Franchimeau gruffly replied, that "he supposed Madeira might do."
Madame then continued her story and her pine-apple. "_Ah! mon bien-aime Alphonse_,"[16] said she, "he had fourteen wounds--I will take another slice, if you please, Madame Colavering. There--there--a little more sugar. _Bien oblige_[17]--a little more still. _Maman, vous ne mangez pas de bon appetit. Ah! je comprens--vous voulez de la creme avec votre anana._[18]--Madame Colavering, will you do mamma the favour to have some cream brought for her? and I shall not refuse some for myself.
Ah! _mon Alphonse_--the object of my first grand passion! He exhibited in dying some contortions that were hideous--_absolument effroyable_[19]--they are always present before my eyes--Madame Colavering, I would prefer those two under slices; they are the best penetrated with the sugar, and also well steeped in the _jus_."[20]
[Footnote 16: My beloved Alphonse.]
[Footnote 17: Much obliged to you.]
[Footnote 18: Mamma, you do not eat with a good appetite. Ah! I understand--you wish for some cream with your pine-apple.]
[Footnote 19: Absolutely frightful.]
[Footnote 20: Juice.]
The cream was procured, and the two Madames did it ample justice.
Presently the youngest of the French ladies opened her eyes very wide, and exclaimed to her father, "_Mon cher papa, vous n' avez pas deja fini?_"[21] "My good friend, Madame Colavering, you know, of course, that my papa cannot eat much fruit, unless it is accompanied by some _biscuit_--for instance, the cake you call sponge."
[Footnote 21: My dear papa, you have not finished already?]
"I was not aware of that," replied Mrs. Clavering.
"_Est-il possible?_"[22] exclaimed the whole French family, looking at each other.
[Footnote 22: Is it possible?]
Mrs. Clavering then recollecting that there was some sponge-cake in the house, sent one of the children for it, and when it was brought, their French visiters all ate heartily of it; and she heard the _vieille maman_[23] saying to the _vieux papa_,[24] "_Eh, mon ami, ce petit collation vient fort a-propos, comme notre dejeuner etait seulement un mauvais salade._"[25]
[Footnote 23: Old mamma.]
[Footnote 24: Old papa.]
[Footnote 25: Eh! my dear, this little collation comes very seasonably, as our breakfast was nothing but a bad salad.]
The collation over, Mrs. Clavering, by way of giving her guests an opportunity of saying something that would please Uncle Philip, patted old Neptune on the head, and asked them if they had ever seen a finer dog?
"I will show you a finer," replied Madame Franchimeau; "see, I have brought with me my interesting _Bijou_"--and she called in an ugly little pug that had been scrambling about the cabin door ever since their arrival, and whose only qualification was that of painfully sitting up on his hind legs, and shaking his fore-paws in the fashion that is called begging. His mistress, with much importunity, prevailed on him to perform this elegant feat, and she then rewarded him with a saucer-full of cream, sugar, and sponge-cake. He was waspish and snappish, and snarled at Jane Clavering when she attempted to play with him; upon which Neptune, with one blow of his huge forefoot, brought the pug to the ground, and then stood motionless, looking up in Uncle Philip's face, with his paw on the neck of the sprawling animal, who kicked and yelped most piteously. This interference of the old Newfoundlander gave great offence to the French family, who all exclaimed, "_Quelle horreur! Quelle abomination! En effet c'est trop!_"[26]
[Footnote 26: What horror! What abomination! It is really too much!]
Uncle Philip could not help laughing; but Sam called off Neptune from Bijou, and set the fallen pug on his legs again, for which compassionate act he was complimented by the French ladies on his _bonte de coeur_,[27] and honoured at parting, with the title of _le doux Sammi_.[28]
[Footnote 27: Goodness of heart.]
[Footnote 28: The mild Sammy--the gentle Sammy.]
"I'll never return this visit," said Uncle Philip, after the French guests had taken their leave.
"Oh! but you _must_," replied Mrs. Clavering; "it was intended expressly for you--you _must_ return it, in common civility."
"But," persisted Uncle Philip, "I wish them to understand that I don't intend to treat them with common civility. A pack of selfish, ridiculous, impudent fools. No, no. I am not so prejudiced as to believe that all French people are as bad as these--many of them, no doubt, if we could only find where they are, may be quite as clever as the first lieutenant of that frigate; but, to their shame be it spoken, the best of them seldom visit America, and our country is overrun with ignorant, vulgar impostors, who, unable to get their bread at home, come here full of lies and pretensions, and to them and their quackery must our children be intrusted, in the hope of acquiring a smattering of French jabber, and at the risk of losing everything else."
"Don't you think Uncle Philip always talks best when he's in a passion?"
observed Dick to Sam.
After Mrs. Clavering had returned to the house, Dick informed his uncle that, a few days before, she had made a dinner for the whole French family; and Captain Kentledge congratulated himself and Sam on their not arriving sooner from their voyage. Dick had privately told his brother that the behaviour of the guests, on this occasion, had not given much satisfaction. Mrs. Clavering, it seems, had hired, to dress the dinner, a mulatto woman that professed great knowledge of French cookery, having lived at one of the best hotels in New York. But Monsieur Franchimeau had sneered at all the French dishes as soon as he tasted them, and pretended not to know their names, or for what they were intended; Monsieur Ravigote had shrugged and sighed, and the ladies had declined touching them at all, dining entirely on what (as Dick expressed it) they called roast beef de mutton and natural potatoes.[29]
[Footnote 29: The vulgar French think that the English term for all sorts of roasted meat is _rosbif_--thus _rosbif de mouton--rosbif de porc_. Potatoes plainly boiled, with the skins on, are called, in France, _pommes de terre au naturel_.]
It was not only his regard for the children that made Mrs. Clavering's French mania a source of great annoyance to Uncle Philip, but he soon found that much of the domestic comfort of the family was destroyed by this unaccountable freak, as he considered it. Mrs. Clavering was not young enough to be a very apt scholar, and so much of her time was occupied by learning her very long lessons, and writing her very long exercises, that her household duties were neglected in consequence. As in a provincial town it is difficult to obtain servants who can go on well without considerable attention from the mistress, the house was not kept in as nice order as formerly; the meals were at irregular hours, and no longer well prepared; the children's comfort was forgotten, their pleasures were not thought of, and the little girls grieved that no sweetmeats were to be made that season; their mother telling them that she had now no time to attend to such things. The children's story-books were taken from them, because they were now to read nothing but Telemaque; they were stopped short in the midst of their talk, and told to _parlez Francais_.[30] Even the parrots heard so much of it that, in a short time, they prated nothing but French.
[Footnote 30: Speak French.]
Uncle Philip had put his positive veto on Sam's going to French school, and he insisted that little Anne had become pale and thin since she had been a pupil of the Franchimeaus. Mrs. Clavering, to pacify him, consented to withdraw the child from school; but only on condition that she was every day to receive a lesson at home, from old Mr. Ravigote.
Anne Clavering was but five years old. As yet, no taste for French "had dawned upon her soul," and very little for English; her mind being constantly occupied with her doll, and other playthings. Monsieur Ravigote, with all the excitability of his nation, was, in the main, a very good-natured man, and was really anxious for the improvement of his pupil. But all was in vain. Little Anne never knew her lessons, and had as yet acquired no other French phrase than "_Oui, Monsieur_."[31]
[Footnote 31: Yes, sir.]
Every morning, Mr. Ravigote came with a face dressed in smiles, and earnest hope that his pupil was going that day to give him what he called "one grand satisfaction;" but the result was always the same.
One morning, as Uncle Philip sat reading the newspaper, and holding little Anne on his knee while she dressed her doll, Mr. Ravigote came in, bowing and smiling as usual, and after saluting Captain Kentledge, he said to the little child: "Well, my dear little friend, _ma gentille Annette_,[32] I see by the look of your countenance that I shall have one grand satisfaction with you this day. Application is painted on your visage, and docility also. Is there not, _ma chere_?"[33]
[Footnote 32: My pretty Annette.]
[Footnote 33: My dear.]
"_Oui, Monsieur_," replied the little Anne.
"_J'en suis ravi._[34] Now, _ma chere, commencons--commencons tout de suite_."[35]
[Footnote 34: I am delighted at it.]
[Footnote 35: Now, my dear, let us begin--let us begin immediately.]
Little Anne slowly descended from her uncle's knee, carefully put away her doll and folded up her doll's clothes, and then made a tedious search for her book.
"_Eh! bien, commencons_," said Mr. Ravigote, "you move without any rapidity."
"_Oui, Monsieur_," responded little Anne, who, after she had taken her seat in a low chair beside Mr. Ravigote, was a long time getting into a comfortable position, and at last settled herself to her satisfaction by crossing her feet, leaning back as far as she could go, and hooking one finger in her coral necklace, that she might pull at it all the time.
"_Eh! bien, ma chere_; we will first have the lessons without the book,"
said Mr. Ravigote, commencing with the vocabulary. "Tell me the names of all the months of the year--for instance, January."