Moral Tales

by Madame Guizot

  HELEN;

  OR THE FAILURE.

  "Take care, Helen!" said Madame d'Aubigny, to her daughter, "when youare going one way, you are looking another; in this manner you willnever go straight anywhere."

  And such was exactly the case. Whether in the street, or on thepromenade or even when running in the fields, Helen seldom thoughtof looking before her, or watching her steps; her attention wasconstantly directed to one side or the other, to see if any onenoticed her; and when she fancied herself observed, she gave herselfall sorts of airs and graces. Often when at the Tuileries, she was socompletely absorbed in endeavouring to give a graceful turn to herhead, or in casting down her eyes, when she considered it suitableto do so, or in looking at the leaves with an air of abstraction,according as one or other of these different movements appeared toher best calculated to attract attention, that she struck against atree, or against some one coming in an opposite direction. Often whenwishing to jump gracefully over a pool of water, she fell into themiddle of it, and was covered with mud. In fine, Helen did nothingin a simple manner, like other people, and merely for having thething done; she neither walked, nor ate, nor drank, for the sake ofwalking, or eating, or drinking, but in order that people might seethe grace she was able to throw into all her movements; and had therebeen any one to observe her while sleeping, she would certainly havecontrived the means of sleeping gracefully.

  She little thought how much all these efforts tended to defeat thevery object which she had in view, and yet she might easily haveperceived, that if, while doing one thing, her thoughts were onanother, it was quite impossible that she should do the thing well,and consequently impossible that she should be favourably noticed.If, when she saw some one entering the room, in whose eyes she wishedto appear agreeable, she began to talk with greater animation tothe person near her; if she threw more vivacity into her gestures,and made her gaiety more conspicuous, still, as she was not reallyamused, but only supposed that she had the appearance of being so,her laugh was not hearty, her gestures were unnatural, and her gaietyso obviously forced, that no one could possibly fancy that she wasreally gay, while the pretence of being so occupied her thoughts. Inlike manner, no one who saw her bestowing alms would have supposedthat she was really kind-hearted, and yet Helen gave when she wasnot observed, and she gave with good will; but if there happened tobe any one near to notice her, it was no longer of the poor that shethought, but of the pleasure of being seen bestowing alms. Her pitythen assumed an appearance of exaggeration and eagerness, which madeit quite apparent that her object was to display it. Her eyes indeedexpressed compassion, but instead of being fixed upon the beggar,they were turned towards the persons present, so that it might havebeen said that it was they, and not the beggar, who had caused heremotion.

  Madame d'Aubigny had continually reprimanded her daughter forthis tendency, which she had displayed from her childhood, andhad succeeded in correcting the most absurd and gross of heraffectations; and Helen herself, as she advanced in age, became moreskilful in detecting such as were likely to appear too glaring; butas her affectations also increased in number, she merely took alittle more pains to conceal them, without being able to persuadeherself that, while she had them at all, they could not possibly beconcealed. "My child," her mother would sometimes say to her, "thereis but one way of obtaining praise, and that is by acting well; andas there is nothing commendable in an action done for the sake ofcommendation, it is impossible that such actions should secure youpraise: rest assured, therefore, that to make praise and reputationyour aim, is a certain way of never obtaining it." Helen felt, tosome extent, the truth of these remarks, and she promised herself toconceal her vanity with greater care, but it returned at the firstopportunity; and besides, where is the girl who fully believes allher mother says to her?

  In the same house with Madame d'Aubigny, there lodged one of herrelations, Madame de Villemontier, whose daughter Cecilia wasHelen's particular friend. Cecilia was so full of kindness andsimplicity, that she did not even perceive Helen's affectation,and was continually disputing on this subject with the old Abb?Rivi?re, the former preceptor of M. de Villemontier, Cecilia'sfather, and who, after having educated his son, and resided withhim at the college, where he finished his studies, had returned totake up his abode in the house, where he was respected as a father,and where he occupied himself in the education of Cecilia, whom heloved as his own child. They never quarrelled, except on Helen'saccount, whose affectation appeared so absurd to the Abb? Rivi?re,that he was incessantly ridiculing it. Accustomed to speak exactlywhat he thought, he did not restrain himself in her presence, thoughthere was all the more necessity for doing so, as Helen, who hadalways heard him spoken of with great consideration at Madame deVillemontier's, and had witnessed the pleasure caused by his return,and the respect with which he was treated, felt extremely anxiousto gain his good opinion. This desire was increased by the praiseshe constantly bestowed on Cecilia. It was not that she was jealous;for, notwithstanding her vanity, she was incapable of any meanness,she only thought that she merited the same praises as her friend,and indeed, she would have done so, had she not sought for them.But her desire of being noticed by the Abb? Rivi?re destroyed allthe means she would have had of gaining his esteem; therefore, didhe torment her with provoking jokes, which had only the effect ofrendering her more anxious to gain his approbation, and induced herto make redoubled, though always awkward and misdirected efforts toobtain it. The Abb? was a very well-informed man. Helen could notbe so foolish as to make a parade, in his presence, of the smallamount of knowledge which a girl of her age is capable of possessing;but she never allowed a day to pass without finding some indirectmeans of alluding to her love of study. Some remark was made aboutwalking: she said that she took very little pleasure in it, withouta book: it was also one of her greatest griefs that her mother wouldnot permit her to read before going to bed; and then she related how,during the morning, she had so completely forgotten herself, thatthree hours had passed without her being conscious of it. The Abb?pretended not to hear her; this was one of his mischievous ways; thenshe emphasized, and varied her expression. "Yes," she said, as ifspeaking to herself, "I commenced at a quarter to one, and when, forthe first time, I looked at the timepiece, it was four o'clock; sothat more than three hours had elapsed without my having perceivedthem."

  "There was nothing lost, however," said the Abb?, "for you took verygood notice of them afterwards."

  Helen became silent, but she did not the less begin again on thefollowing day.

  What the Abb? most praised in Cecilia's conduct, was her attentionto her mother, who was in very delicate health. One evening, Madamed'Aubigny happened to faint. Helen, who was in the habit of takingher work, and sitting with Madame de Villemontier almost everyevening, did not come down on this occasion, except for a moment,to relate the accident, and to have the pleasure of speaking of theanxiety which it had caused her. She began by expatiating so muchupon the alarm she felt, when she beheld her mother pale and almostunconscious, that the Abb? could not help saying, "I see clearly allthat Mademoiselle Helen has suffered from her mother's accident, butI should like to know what Madame d'Aubigny has suffered."

  The following day, Madame d'Aubigny, though still indisposed,insisted that her daughter should go as usual, and pass the eveningwith Madame de Villemontier. She entered with an air of languor andfatigue, saying that she was very sleepy, in order that they mightunderstand that she had passed a bad night. As the questions towhich she was anxious to reply, were not put to her, she endeavouredto lead to them in another way. She observed that the weather wasdelightful at five o'clock that morning: that her mother had beenvery restless until two, but that at three o'clock she slept quietly;from which it was evident that Helen must have got up at thesevarious hours, for the purpose of ascertaining how her mother was.Several times she requested to know the hour, saying that althoughher mamma had given her permission to remain until ten o'clock,she should certainly return to her at nine. She inquir
ed again athalf-past eight, and again at a quarter to nine. During this time,Cecilia, without being observed, had two or three times raised hereyes to the clock. A minute before nine she rang the bell; her motherasked her why she did so. "You know, mamma," said Cecilia, "that itis time for you to take your broth." Helen immediately jumped up,with a loud exclamation, and put away her work in a great hurry, forfear of staying beyond the hour.

  "These two young ladies," said some one present, "are very punctual,and very attentive."

  "Yes," murmured the Abb?, between his teeth, and looking at Helen,with a provoking smile, "Cecilia is wonderfully careful of hermother, and Mademoiselle Helen of her reputation."

  Helen blushed and hastened to depart, dreading some fresh sarcasm;but Madame de Villemontier, having requested the Abb? to accompanyher, and to bring word how Madame d'Aubigny was, he took the candleand followed her. She walked so fast, that he could not keep up withher. "Wait for me," said he, quite out of breath, as they drew near,"you will break your neck."

  "I am so anxious to know how mamma is!"

  "How fortunate you are," said the Abb?, taking her arm, "to be ablein the midst of your anxiety, to think of so many other things! Asfor me, if any one of whom I am very fond was ill, I should be sotaken up with his illness, that it would be impossible for me tonotice what I did for him, still less to think of making othersobserve it; but women are so strong minded."

  "Really, M. l'Abb?," said Helen, whom this remark embarrassed, "youcan never let a minute pass without tormenting me!"

  "That is to say, without admiring you. We admire others for theirgeneral conduct; we love and admire them because they have acted withpropriety, during a long space of time, and on various occasions; butwe must admire Mademoiselle Helen on every occasion. Every action,every thought, every movement of hers, demands an eulogium."

  And the mischievous Abb?, with his eyes fixed upon Helen, and holdingthe candle in such a position as fully to display the sarcasticexpression of his countenance, stopped at every step, and emphasizedevery word, prolonging as much as possible both his remarks and hisjourney. They did, however, at last reach the apartments of Madamed'Aubigny, and Helen was delighted to free herself from his arm, andmake her escape. The Abb?'s raillery greatly pained her, but stillshe saw beneath it so much kind feeling, that she could not be angrywith him. He, on the other hand, touched by the gentleness with whichshe received his reproofs, and the desire she manifested to gain hisesteem, felt anxious to correct her, especially as he perceived that,notwithstanding her affectation, she was really kind-hearted andsensible.

  Madame d'Aubigny had an old servant who was rough and ill-tempered,although he was all day long reading moral and religious books.She had allowed him to have with him a little nephew, to whom hepretended to give a good education. This man's sole talent forteaching consisted in beating little Fran?ois when he did not knowhis lesson in history or in the catechism; and Fran?ois, to whom thisplan did not impart any taste for study, never knew a word of it,and was consequently beaten every day. One morning, Helen saw himcoming down stairs sobbing loudly; he had just received his usualcorrection, and was to receive twice as much if he did not know hislesson when his uncle, who had gone out on an errand, returned. Helenadvised him to make haste and learn it; the boy said he could not.

  "Come, come," said Helen, "we will learn it together, then," andshe led him into the room, where she set to work so diligently tomake him repeat it, that the Abb? Rivi?re, who came to see Madamed'Aubigny, entered without her hearing him.

  "Make haste," said she to Fran?ois, "so that no one may know that itwas I who taught it to you."

  "Ha!" said the Abb?, "I have at last caught you doing good for itsown sake."

  Helen blushed with pleasure; this was the first time she had everheard him seriously praise her. But at the same moment, vanityusurped the place of the good feelings which had animated her: hermanners ceased to be natural, and though she continued precisely thesame occupation, it was evident that she was no longer actuated bythe same motive.

  "Well! well!" said the Abb?, "I am going away, resume your naturalsimplicity, no one is going to look at you."

  In the evening, at Madame Villemontier's, Helen found an opportunityof speaking of Fran?ois. The Abb? shook his head, aware of whatwas coming; and Helen, who had her eye upon him, understood him,and checked herself. However, her tendency got the better of herdiscretion, and half an hour afterwards she returned to the samesubject, though in an indirect manner. The Abb? happened to be nearher: "Stop, stop," said he in a whisper, touching her elbow, "I seeyou want me to relate it, and, indeed, it is best that I should," andhereupon he began:--

  "This morning, Fran?ois ..." and he assumed a manner so emphatic andcomical, that Helen did all she could to make him desist: "Let me goon," he whispered, "and when there is anything that you wish to bemade known or particularly remarked, merely give me a sign."

  Helen, ashamed, pretended not to understand him, but yet couldnot keep from laughing. It may easily be imagined that she lostall desire of speaking of Fran?ois during that evening, and fromthat moment, the Abb?, as he had told her, assumed the part oftrumpeter. As soon as she opened her lips to insinuate anything toher own advantage, he immediately caught the word, and broke forthinto a pompous panegyric. If her movements indicated any desire ofattracting attention, "Look!" he would say, "what grace MademoiselleHelen displays in all her movements." If she uttered a loud andforced laugh, "I beg you will observe," he said to every one, "Howgay Mademoiselle Helen is to-day:" then he would afterwards approachher and whisper, "Have I fulfilled my functions properly? I shall dobetter another time," he would add, "but you do not give me notice,and I can only speak of what I perceive," and nothing escaped him;still there was mixed up with all this, something so comic, and atthe same time so kind, that Helen, at once annoyed, embarrassed, andobliged to laugh, insensibly corrected herself, as well from herdread of the Abb?'s remarks, as from his presenting her affectedmanners in a light so ridiculous, that she could not help beingherself struck by their absurdity.

  She has at last succeeded in entirely correcting herself of them,and she endeavours to gratify her self-love by more substantial andreasonable pleasures, than that of having people observing her atevery moment of the day, and of directing attention to her mostinsignificant actions. She acknowledges that she owes this changeto the Abb? Rivi?re, and says, that if all the young girls who feeldisposed to give themselves affected airs, had, in like manner, anAbb? Rivi?re at their side, to show them, at each repetition of them,the impression which they produce on those who witness them, theywould not long take the trouble of making themselves ridiculous.