Taking the Bastile (3 page)

‘But, mademoiselle,’ said he, ‘Ange Pitou is a poor orphan child, the son of your own brother, and in the name of humanity you cannot abandon your brother’s son to be dependent on public charity.’

‘Well, now, listen to me, Monsieur Gilbert,’ said the old maid; ‘it would be an increase of expense of at least six sous a day, and that at the lowest calculation; for that great fellow would eat at least a pound of bread a day.’

iS TAKING THE BASTILLK

Pitou made a wry face ; be was in the habit of eating a pound and a ball at his breakfast alone.

And without calculating the soap for his washing,’ added Mademoiselle Angeliqne; ‘and I recollect that he is a sad one for dirtying clothes. 1

‘Oh I fie, mademoiselle,’ cried the doctor, ‘fie I Mademoiselle Angeliqoe. Can yon, who so well practise Christian charity, enter into such minute calculation* with regard to your own nephew?’

‘And without calculating the cost of his clothes cried the old devotee most energetically, who suddenly remembered having seen her sister Madeline busily employed in sewing patches on her nephew’s jacket ana knee-caps on his small-clothes.

‘Then,’ said the doctor, ‘am I to understand that yon refuse to take charge of your nephew? The orphan who has been repulsed from his aunt s threshold will be compelled to beg for alms at the threshold of strangers.’

Mademoiselle Angeliqne, notwithstanding her avarice, was alive to the odium which would naturally attach to her, if from her refusal to receive her nephew he should be compelled to have recourse to such an extremity.

‘No,’ said she, ‘I will take charge of him. I will recommend him to the Augnstin Friars at Bourg Fontaine, and he shall enter their monastery as a lay-servant.’

We have already said that the doctor was a philosopher. We know what was the meaning of the word philosopher in those days. He therefore instantly resolved to snatch a neophyte from the Augnstin brotherhood, and that with as much zealous fervour as the Augustine, on their side, could have displayed in carrying on an adept from the philosopher.

‘Well, then,’ he rejoined, plunging his hand into his deep pocket, ‘since you are in such a position of pecuniary difficulty, my dear Mademoiselle Angelique, as to be compelled, from your deficiency in personal resources, to recommend your nephew to the charity of others. I will seek elsewhere for some one who can more efficaciously than yourself apply to the maintenance of your nephew the sum which I had designed for him. I am obliged to return to America. I win, before I set out, apprentice your nephew Pi ton to some joiner, or a smith. He shall, however, himself choose the trade for which he feels a vocation. Dmring my absence he will grow bigger, and

AN AUNT NOT ALWAYS A MOTHER 19

on my return he will already have become acquainted with his business, and then why, I shall see what can be made of him. Come, my child, lass your aunt,’ continued the doctor, ‘and let us be off at once.’

The doctor had not concluded the sentence when Pitou rushed towards the antiquated spinster; his long arms were extended, and he was in fact most eager to embrace his aunt, on the condition that this kiss was to be the signal, between him and her, of aa eternal separation. But at the words, THB Sun, the gesture with which the doctor had accompanied it, the thrusting his hand into bis pocket, the silvery sound which that hand had in-continently given to a heap of crown pieces, the amount of which might have been estimated by the tension of the pocket, the old maid had felt the fire of cupidity mount even to her heart.

‘Oh !’ cried she, ‘my dear Monsieur Gilbert, you must be well aware of one thing.’

‘And what is that?’ asked the doctor.

‘Why, good Heaven I that no one in the world can love this poor child half so much as I do.’

And entwining her scraggy arms round Pitou’s neck, she imprinted a sour kiss on each of his cheeks, which made him shudder from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

‘Oh 1 certainly,’ replied tile doctor, ‘I know that well, and I so little doubted your affection for him that I brought him at once to you as his natural support. But that which you have just said to me, dear mademoiselle, has ifconvinced me at the same time of your good-will and d! your inability, and I see clearly that you are too poor to aid those who are poorer than yourself.’

‘Why, my good Monsieur Gilbert,’ rejoined the old devotee, ‘there is a merciful God in heaven, and from heaven does He not feed all His creatures?’

‘That is true,’ replied Gilbert; ‘but although He gives food to the ravens, He does not put out orphans as apprentices. Now, this is what must be done for Ange Pitou, and this, with your small means, would doubtless cost you too much.’

‘But yet, if you were to give that sum, good Monsieur Gilbert

‘What sum?’

‘The sum of which yon spoke, the sum which is then

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in your pocket,’ added the devotee, stretching her crocked finger toward the doctor’s coat.

‘I will assuredly give it, dear Mademoiselle Angelique said the doctor; ‘but I forewarn you it will be oa one condition.’

‘And what is that?’

‘That the boy shall have a profession.’

‘He shall have one, and that I promise you on the faith of Angelique Pitou, most worthy doctor,’ cried the devotee, her eyes riveted on the pocket which was swaying to and fro.

‘You promise it?’

‘On the truth of the living God, my dear Monsieur Gilbert, I swear to do it.’

And Mademoiselle Angelique horizontally extended her emaciated hand.

‘Well, then, be it so,’ said the doctor, drawing from his pocket a well-rounded bag; ‘I am ready to give the money, as you see. On your side, are you ready to make yourself responsible to me for the child ? ‘

‘Upon the true cross. Monsieur Gilbert.’

‘Well, then, let us go at once to Papa Niguet.’

Papa Niguet, to whom, thanks to his long acquaintance with him, the doctor applied this friendly title, was the notary of greatest reputation in the town. Mademoiselle Angelique, of whom Master Niguet was also the notary, had no objection to offer to the choice made by the doctor. She followed him therefore to the notary’s office. There the scrivener registered the promise made by Mademoiselle Rose Angelique Pitou, to take charge of and to place in the exercise of an honourable profession Louis Ange Pitou, her nephew, and so doing should annually receive the sum of two hundred livres. The contract was made for five years; the doctor deposited eight hundred livres in the hands of the notary, the other two hundred were to be paid to Mademoiselle Angelique in advance. The following day the doctor left Villers-Cottere’ts,

ANGE PITOU AT HIS AUNT’S 21

WE have observed the very Blight degree of inclination which Ange Pitou felt towards a long-continued sojourn with his aunt Angelique; the poor child, endowed with instinct equal to, and perhaps superior to, that of the animals against whom he continually made war, had divined at once all the vexations, tribulations, and annoyances to which he would be exposed. In the first place, Doctor Gilbert having left Villers-Corter’ftts, there never was a word said about placing the child as an apprentice. The good notary had indeed given her a hint or two, with regard to her formal obligation; but Mademoiselle Angelique had replied that her nephew was very young, and, above all, that his health was too delicate to be subjected to labour which would probably be beyond his strength. The notary, on hearing this observation, had in good faith admired the kindness of heart of Mademoiselle Pitou, and had deferred taking any steps as to the apprenticeship until the following year. There was no time lost, the child being then only in his twelfth year.

Once installed at his aunt’s, Pitou, who once more found himself in his forest, or very near to it, had already made his topographical observations in order to lead the same life at Villers-Cotterfits as at Haramont. In fact, he had made a circuit of the neighbourhood, in which he had convinced himself that the best pools were those on the road to Damploux, that to Compiegne, and that to Vivieres, and that the best district for game was that of the Bruyere-aux-Loups. Pitou, having made this survey, took all the necessary measures for pursuing his juvenile sport. The thing most easy to be procured, as it did not require any outlay of capital, was birdlime; the bark of the holly, brayed in a mortar and steeped in water, gave the lime; and as to the twigs to be limed, they were to be found by thousands on every birch-tree in the neighbourhood. Pitou therefore manufactured, without saying a word to any one on the subject, a thousand limed twigs and a pot of glue of the first quality; and one fine morning, after having the previous evening taken, on his aunt’s account at the baker’s, a four-pound loaf, he set off at

sa TAKING THE BASTILLE

daybreak, remained out the whole day, and returned home when the evening had cloaed in.

Pi ton had not formed such a resolution without duly calculating the effect it would produce. He had foreseen a tempeat. Pi too had not deceived himself in his foresight, but he thought ha would be able to brave the storm by presenting to the old devotee the produce of his day’s sport; only he had not been able to foretell from what spot the thunder would be hurled at him. The thunderbolt struck him immediately oa entering the house. Mademoiselle Angelique had ensconced herself behind the door, that she might not misa her nephew as he entered, so that at the very moment he ventured to put his foot into the room, he received a cuff upon the occiput. Fortunately, Pitou’s head was a tolerably hard one, and, although the blow had scarcely staggered nim, he made believe, in order to mollify his aunt, whose anger had increased from having hurt her fingers in striking with such violence, to fall, stumbling as he went, at the opposite end of the room; there, seated on the floor, and seeing that his aunt was returning to the assault, her distafi in her hand, he hastened to draw from his pocket the talisman on which he had relied to allay the storm, and obtain pardon for his flight. And this was two dozen of birds, among which were a dozen redbreasts and half a dozen thrushes. Mademoiselle Angelique, perfectly astounded, opened her eyes widely; but although still scolding, she took possession of her nephew’s sport, retreating towards the lamp.

‘What is all this?’ she asked.

‘You must see clearly enough, my dear little Aunt Angeliqne,’ replied Pitou, ‘that they are birds.’

‘Good to eat?’ eagerly inquired the old maid, who, in her quality of devotee, was naturally a great eater.

‘ Irood to eat !’ reiterated Pitou; well, that is singular. Redbreasts and thrushes good to eat t I believe they are, indeed I’

‘And where did you steal these birds, wretch?’

‘I did not steal them; I caught them.’

‘Caught them I how?’

‘By ume-twigging them.’

‘Lime-twigging what do you mean by that?’

Pitou looked at his aunt with an air of astonishment; he could not comprehend that the education of any person in existence could have been so neglected as not to know

the meaning of lime-twigging. ‘Lime-twigging?’ said he; ‘why, zounds, ‘tis lime-twigging.’

‘Yes, but saucy fellow, I do not understand what you mean by lime-twigging.’

‘Well, you see, aunt, in the forest here there are at least thirty small pools; you place the lime-twigs around them, and when the birds go to drink there, poor silly things, they run their heads into them and are caught.’

‘By what?’

‘By the birdlime.’

‘Ah I ah I’ exclaimed Aunt Angelique, ‘I understand; but who gave you the money?’

‘Money I* cned Pitou, astonished that any one could have believed that he had ever possessed a penny; ‘money, Aunt Angelique?’

‘Yes.*

No one.’

‘But where did yon buy the birdlime, then?’

‘I made it myself.’

‘And the lime-twigs?’

‘I made them also, to be sure.’

‘Therefore, these birds cost you nothing?’

‘The trouble of stooping to pick them up.’

‘And can you go often to these pools?’

‘One might go every day, only it would not do, it would ruin it.’

‘Ruin what?’

‘The lime-twigging. You understand, Aunt Angelique, that the birds which are caught ‘

Well?’

‘Well, they can’t return to the pool.’

“That is true,’ said the aunt.

This was the first time, since Pitou had lived with her, that Aunt Angelique had allowed her nephew was in the right, and thii unaccustomed approbation perfectly delighted him.

‘But,’ said he, ‘the days that one does not go to the pools one goes somewhere else. The days we do not catch birds, we catch something else.’

‘And what do you catch?’

‘Why, we catch rabbits,’

‘Rabbits?’

‘Yes, we eat the rabbits and sell their skins. A rabbit-skin is worth two sous.’

24 TAKING THE BASTILLE

Aunt Angelique gazed at her nephew with astonished eyes; she had never considered him so great an economist. Pitou had suddenly revealed himself.

‘But will it not be my business to sell the skins?’

‘Undoubtedly,’ replied Pitou; ‘as Mamma Madeline used to do.’

‘And when will you go out to catch rabbits?’

‘Ah 1 that’s another matter when I can get the wires,’ replied Pitou.

‘Well, then, make the wires.’

Pitou shook his head.

‘Why, you made the birdlime and the twigs.’

‘Oh 1 yes, I can make birdlime and I can set the twigs, but I cannot make brass wire; that is bought ready made at the grocer’s.’

‘And how much does it cost?’

‘Oh 1 for four sous,’ replied Pitou, calculating upon his fingers, ‘I could make at least two dozen.’

‘And with two dozen, how many rabbits could you catch?’

‘That is as it may happen four, five, six, perhaps and they can be used over and over again if the gamekeeper does not find them.’

‘See, now, here are four sous,’ said Aunt Angelique; ‘go and buy some brass wire at M. Dambrun’s, and go to-morrow and catch rabbits.’