Moral Tales

by Madame Guizot

  ARMAND;

  OR THE INDEPENDENT LITTLE BOY.

  M. de Saint Marsin, on entering one day into the apartment of hisson Armand, found him in a violent passion, and heard him say to histutor, the Abb? Durand, "Very well! Of course I shall obey you; Imust do so, because you are the strongest, but I can tell you thatI do not recognise your right to compel me, and I shall hate you asunjust, and a tyrant."

  After this speech, on turning round with a movement of irritability,he perceived his father standing at the door, which he had foundopen, and looking at him with a calm and attentive countenance.Armand turned pale, then blushed; he feared and respected his father,who, though exceedingly kind, had something very imposing both incountenance and manner, so that he had never dared to resist himdirectly, or put himself in a passion in his presence. Dismayed, andwith downcast eyes, he awaited what M. de Saint Marsin was going tosay; when the latter, having entered, sat down near the table, uponwhich Armand had been writing, and which formed the subject of hisquarrel, for the Abb? Durand had insisted on his removing from thewindow, as it diverted his attention from his work.

  "Armand," said M. de Saint Marsin, in a serious but calm tone, "youthink, then, that no one has a right to force you to obey?"

  "Papa," said Armand, confused, "I did not say that to you."

  "But you did say it to me, for the power which M. l'Abb? possesses,he holds directly from me, his rights are founded upon mine, andthese I have transmitted to him. Are you not aware of this?"

  Armand was well aware of it, but he could not make up his mind toobey the Abb? Durand, as he did his father; or rather obedience wasin all cases extremely disagreeable to him, and fear alone preventedhim from manifesting his sentiments before M. de Saint Marsin; forArmand, because he was thirteen years of age, and possessed ofsome intelligence, considered himself a very important personage,and his pride was habitually wounded, because he was not allowedto follow his own inclinations: he therefore rebelled against whathe was commanded to do, not because he considered it unreasonable,but simply because it was commanded, and he several times hintedto the Abb? Durand, that if parents ruled their children, it wassimply because they were the strongest, and not because they hadany legitimate right to do so. M. de Saint Marsin, who was awareof all this, was very glad to have an opportunity of coming to anunderstanding with him on the subject.

  "Tell me," he continued, "in what respect I commit an injustice, inobliging you to obey me, and I am ready to repair it."

  Armand was confused, but his father, having encouraged him to reply,he said, "I do not say, papa, that you commit an act of injusticetowards me, only I do not exactly see how it can be just for parentsto compel their children to follow their wishes; for children have_wills_ as well as parents, and they have as much right to followthem as their parents have to follow theirs."

  "I suppose it is because children, not being reasonable, it isnecessary that their parents should be reasonable for them, andcompel them to be so too."

  "But," said Armand, hesitatingly, "if they do not wish to bereasonable, it seems to me that that is their affair; and I cannotunderstand how any one can have the right of compelling them to beso."

  "You therefore consider, Armand, that if a child of two years ofage took a fancy to put his hand into the fire, or to climb up to awindow at the risk of falling out of it, that no one would have aright to prevent him from doing so."

  "Oh, papa, what a difference!"

  "I see none: the rights of a child of two years of age, appear tome quite as sacred as those of a child of thirteen; or if you admitthat age makes any difference, then you must allow that a child ofthirteen ought to have less than a man of twenty."

  Armand shook his head, and remained unconvinced; his father havingencouraged him to state his opinion, "I have no doubt," he replied,"that there are some good reasons to oppose to this, although Icannot discover them; but even allowing that it may be to theadvantage of children to be forced to obey, still I do not see howany one can have a right to benefit another against his will."

  "Well, then, Armand, you do not wish me to force you to be reasonableby obeying me."

  "Oh, papa, I did not say that, but...."

  "But I understand it very well; and as I do not wish that you shouldbe able to consider me unjust, I promise you that I will not againcompel you to obey me until you tell me you wish me to do so."

  "Until I wish you to force me to obey you, papa?" said Armand,half-laughing and half-pouting, as if he imagined that his father wasridiculing him. "You know it is impossible that I should ever wishthat."

  "That remains to be proved, my son. I wish to have the pleasure ofseeing it; and from this moment, I resign my authority, until yourequest me to resume it. You must make up your mind to do the same,my dear Abb?," said M. de Saint Marsin, addressing the Abb? Durand."Your rights cease at the same time as mine."

  The Abb?, who understood the intentions of M. de Saint Marsin,smiled, and promised to conform to them. As for M. de Saint Marsin,he still retained his grave expression, and Armand looked from oneto the other, with an air of uncertainty, as if to ascertain whetherthey were in earnest or not. "I do not know," continued his father,"what was the act of obedience so exceedingly displeasing to Armand,but after these new arrangements, he ought to be exempted from it."

  "That is a matter of course," replied the Abb?.

  "Come, my boy," said M. de Saint Marsin, "use your liberty withoutrestraint, and do not think of renouncing it until you are quite surethat you no longer wish to retain it, for I warn you that then, inmy turn, I shall exercise my authority without scruple."

  Armand saw him depart with a stupified look, and could not bringhimself to believe what he had heard. As the first essay of hisliberty, he replaced by the side of the window the table which he hadbegun to remove from it, and the Abb? Durand, who took up a book,allowed him to do so without appearing to notice him; he merelyobserved, when Armand sat down to continue his exercise, "I do notknow why you take so much trouble to settle yourself so comfortably,for I suppose, that now you are master of your own actions, we shallhave but few lessons."

  "I do not know, sir," replied Armand, "on what grounds you imaginethat. I should think I am not so much of a baby as to require to beput into leading-strings, and you may rest assured I shall require noforce to induce me to do what I know to be reasonable."

  "Very well!" said the Abb?, and continued his reading, while Armand,in order to prove his assertion, never once looked towards thewindow, but did his exercise twice as rapidly and twice as well asusual. The Abb? complimented him upon it, and added, "I hope yourliberty will always answer as well as it has done on this occasion."

  Armand was enchanted, but his pleasure was somewhat diminished in theevening, when, on asking his tutor whether they should go out for awalk, the Abb? replied, "Certainly not, for if you took it into yourhead to walk faster than me, or run about, or go through a differentstreet to that which I wished to take, I should have no power toprevent you, and I am too old and too stout to run after you. Icannot undertake to conduct through the streets a giddy fellow, overwhom I possess no authority." Armand became angry, and contended thatthe Abb? was unreasonable. At last he said, "Very well, I promise notto walk faster than you do, and to go just where you please."--"Thatis all very well," replied the Abb?; "but you might take some fancyinto your head, which I ought to oppose, and as I have no power torestrain you, you might bring me into trouble."

  "I am willing to promise obedience during our walk," said Armand.

  "Very well! I will go and inform M. de Saint Marsin, that yourenounce the treaty, and wish to replace yourself under authorityagain."

  "No! no! it is only for the period of our walk."

  "So," replied the Abb?, "you not only wish to follow your own will,but you want to make me do the same. You wish me to resume myauthority when it suits you, and to relinquish it when you no longerdesire it. I must say in my turn, no! no! no! If I consent to resumemy authority, it will be to co
ntinue it; therefore, my dear Armand,you must make up your mind, either to renounce the treaty, or to giveup your walk for the future."

  "But papa wishes me to walk," replied Armand drily.

  "Yes, but he does not require me to walk with you, when I can be ofno use to you. He has no right over my actions, except in so far ashe gives me a right over yours. When he intrusted to me a part ofhis authority, it was quite natural that he should prescribe themanner in which he wished me to exercise it. Now that he intrustsnothing to me, of what have I to render him an account?"

  "As to that," said Armand, "I do not know what should prevent mygoing out by myself."

  "No one in the world will hinder you. You are as free as the air."

  "The proof that I am not so," replied Armand carelessly,--"the proofthat this is all a fairy tale, is, that I am still with you, M.l'Abb?."

  "Not at all," said the Abb? calmly, "it is your father's wish that Ishould give you lessons, as long as you are disposed to take them,but this does not bind you to anything: it is also his wish, thatas long as I remain with him, I should share the apartment which hegives you; he has a right to do what he pleases with it, and I have aright to comply with his wishes if I choose to do so. As to the rest,you can do in it whatever you think best, provided you do not annoyme, for in that case, I shall exercise the right of the strongest,and endeavour to prevent you. With this exception, you may go out oryou may remain, just as you please; it is all the same to me. I shallsee you do the things which I have heretofore forbidden, withouttroubling myself in the slightest degree. And if you wish that weshould not speak to each other, or even look at each other, I do notask for anything better: that will be exceedingly convenient to me."

  "Why, M. l'Abb?, you are carrying things to extremes!"

  "Not in the least, everything is quite natural. What interest wouldyou have me take in your conduct, when I am not responsible for it?"

  "I thought you had more friendship for me."

  "I have as much as I can have. Are you of any use to me? Can I talkto you as to a friend, of the books which I read, and which you wouldnot understand? Can I speak to you of the ideas which interest me?You, whom a serious book sends to sleep, and who feel no interest inhistory, except for its battles? Can you render me any service? Can Irely on you, in any case in which I may stand in need of good advice,or useful aid?"

  "So, I perceive that people are loved only when they can be useful.This truly is admirable morality and friendship!"

  "I beg your pardon; we also love people because we can be useful tothem; we become attached to them because they have need of us, and itis on this account that we are fond of children. We are interested inwhat they do, from the hope we entertain of teaching them to do well:we love them, notwithstanding their faults, because we believe thatwe possess the power of correcting those faults; but the moment youdeprive me of all influence over your conduct, the moment I becomeuseless to you, what interest can I have in troubling myself aboutyou?"

  "But we have passed many years together. You have seen me every day."

  "If we are to become attached to a child, merely from seeing himevery day, why am I not equally attached to Henry, the porter's son,who waits upon us? I have seen him for as long a time; he has neverrefused to do anything I asked him: he has given me no annoyance; Ialways find him in good humour; he renders me a thousand services,and is far more useful to me than you can be."

  "Nevertheless, it would be rather strange if you liked Henry betterthan me."

  "If up to the present time I have liked you better than him, it isbecause, as you were confided to my care, the submission you wereobliged to render me gave you the desire of pleasing me, and thismade you deserve my friendship; and because also, as your interestswere confided to me, I acted for you as I would have acted formyself, and even with more zeal than I could have felt in my owncase. But now that you have undertaken to think for yourself, I havenothing more to do but to think for myself."

  Armand had nothing to reply; he thought to himself that the way toforce those on whom he was dependent to have as much affection forhim, as when he was under their authority, was to conduct himself aswell, as if he were still obliged to obey them, and he determined toadopt this method. But Armand did not yet possess either sufficientsense, or sufficient firmness of character, to adhere to suchresolutions, and it was precisely this which rendered it necessaryfor him to be guided and controlled by the will of others; left tohimself, he was not as yet capable of meriting their affection.

  Many children will, doubtless, be astonished, that Armand did notprofit by his liberty to throw aside his studies, run about alone,and do a thousand absurdities; but Armand had been well brought up,and his disposition was good, notwithstanding the caprices whichoccasionally passed through his brain; and at thirteen years of age,though children have not always sufficient strength to do what isright, they begin, at least, to know what is right, and to desireto be regarded as rational beings; and, besides, notwithstandingall his fine arguments, he had acquired the habit of obedience, andwould have found it very difficult to oppose directly, any commandof his father or tutor, in such a way that it might come to theirknowledge. However, the following morning, he thought his libertymight surely extend so far as to send and buy a rasher of ham for hisbreakfast, a thing of which he was very fond, but which he was veryrarely allowed to have. He wanted to send Henry for it; but Henry,who at that moment had something else to do, said that he could notgo. He was usually rather insolent to Armand, who, on his part, oftenbecame excessively angry with him, because he did not obey him asreadily as M. de Saint Marsin or the Abb? Durand. On the presentoccasion, elated by the new importance which he thought he hadacquired, he assumed a more imperious tone, and expressed his angermore loudly than usual, but this only increased Henry's ridicule. Heeven affected to lecture Armand, saying that M. de Saint Marsin didnot allow him to send out of the house for anything, and reminded himthat he had been already scolded for that very thing.

  "What does that matter to you," said Armand, still more angrily,"have I not a right to send you where I please?"

  "No, my son," replied M. de Saint Marsin, who happened to be passingat the moment, "Henry is not under your orders, but under mine."

  "But, papa, do you not wish him to wait upon me?"

  "Undoubtedly, my son, he has my commands to that effect, and I trusthe will not neglect them; but he will wait upon you according to theorders I give him, and not according to those you give him."

  "Nevertheless, papa, it is necessary that I should ask him for what Iwant."

  "You need only let me know what you want, and what I tell him to dofor you he will do."

  "But I think, papa, you have often allowed me to give him my commandsmyself."

  "That was at a time when there were things which I could allow youto do, because there were others which I could forbid. I couldthen, without danger, allow you to have some authority in my house,because, as you could only do what I pleased, your authority wassubordinate to mine. I did not fear that you would give my servantsany orders at variance with my wishes, since I had the right toforbid your doing anything which displeased me; but now that youare at liberty to do whatever suits you, if I gave you the rightof commanding my servants, it might suit you to send them to allthe four corners of Paris, at the very moment that I required theirservices here, and I should have no means of preventing you. Youmight tell them to go to the right while I told them to go to theleft; there would be two masters in the house, and that would neveranswer. Impress this fact upon your mind, my son, that you can haveno authority over any one, unless I give it to you, and that Icannot give it to you, unless I have the power of compelling you tomake a reasonable use of it." Then, turning to the boy, who whilepretending to be busily occupied in cleaning Armand's shoes, was, inreality, amusing himself all the while with what was passing,--

  "Listen, Henry; you will do with great care for Armand's service,everything which I order you, but you will do nothing whateve
r thathe orders."

  "It is well worth while to be free," said Armand, discontentedly.

  "My child," said M. de Saint Marsin, "I do not interfere with youin any respect, not even with your giving orders to Henry, if thataffords you any pleasure; but then, you must, in turn, allow me tohave the privilege of forbidding him to execute them."

  Saying this, he went away; and when he had got to some distance,Henry began laughing, and said, "It is a fine thing to order one'sservants, when one has got any to order!"

  Armand was enraged, and attempted to give him a kick, but Henryavoided it, saying, "I have had no orders to allow myself to bebeaten; therefore mind what you are at," and he took up a boot withwhich he was preparing to defend himself. Armand would not compromisehis dignity by contending with him, and therefore left him, sayingthat he was an insolent fellow, and that he would pay him off someday.

  "Yes! yes! and I will pay you, when you pay me for the ham which Ihave bought for you this morning."

  This recollection redoubled Armand's ill-humour; he felt inclined togo and get it himself; but in addition to his being unaccustomed togo out alone, he was proud, and could not make up his mind to stop atthe shop of the pork-butcher, especially as the man knew him, fromhaving seen him frequently pass by with the Abb? Durand, and it wouldhave been very annoying to him to explain to such a person the reasonof his coming himself, and of his being alone. To have profited byhis liberty, Armand ought to have been better able to manage forhimself, and to overcome his repugnance to a thousand things, whichhe could not bring himself to do. He began to discover that he wasmade to pay dearly for a freedom from which he hardly knew how toextract any advantage; nevertheless he had nothing to complain of. Noone controlled his actions, and he could not help acknowledging, thatthe Abb? Durand had a right to refuse to take him out, and his fathera right to forbid his servants to execute his orders. He felt thatthe kindness which these servants had hitherto manifested towardshim, could result only from their submission to the authority of hisfather and his preceptor; still he persuaded himself that the latter,by acting as they did, took an unfair advantage of the need he had oftheir protection. He did not remember, that when we cannot do withoutpeople, we must make up our minds to be dependent on them.

  Being out of temper this day, he learned his lessons badly; theninterrupted them, and did not finish them. The manner in which hehad gone through his morning's tasks left him in no humour for theevening's studies: he therefore passed the afternoon in playing atbattledore and shuttlecock in the yard with Henry, with whom he wasvery glad to be on better terms again; but when he saw his fatherreturn, he hid himself. The remainder of the day he was afraid tomeet him, for fear of being asked whether he had been at work. Atnight, he returned to his room, much embarrassed, and scarcelydaring to look at the Abb?, who, however, said nothing, but treatedhim as usual. It was of no avail for Armand to say to himself thatno one had a right to scold him, and that he was free to do as hepleased: he was, nevertheless, ashamed of wishing for and doing whatwas unreasonable; for the man who is most completely master of hisactions, is no more at liberty to neglect his duties, than a childwhom we compel to fulfil them: the sole difference is, that theman possesses reason and strength to do what is right, and that itis because the child does not yet possess these qualities, that hestands in need of being sustained by the necessity of obedience.Nothing would be more unhappy than a child left entirely to himself;half the time he would not know what he wanted; he would commence ahundred things, and never finish one of them, and would pass his lifewithout knowing how. Even he who considers himself reasonable, andwho, on this account, thinks that there is no necessity for his beingcommanded, does not perceive that all his reasonableness springsfrom his doing what is commanded without repugnance, and withoutill-temper; and that if he had no one to guide him, he would be quiteincapable of guiding himself. Armand had some notion of all this, butit was a confused one: he did not reflect much upon the matter, andmerely thought that, after all, there was no such great pleasure inbeing free.

  The next day, which was Sunday, two of his companions, the sons of anold friend of M. de Saint Marsin, came to see him. They were aboutfifteen or sixteen years of age, frank and thoughtless, and oftenamused Armand by relating anecdotes of their college, and of thetricks of the boys; but they sometimes shocked him also, by theircoarse and disagreeable manners. They, on their side, often ridiculedhim for being too orderly, too neat, and too elegant. As their fatherwas not rich, he had only placed them at college as day-scholars; andas they always went there alone, they laughed at Armand, who couldnot move a step without his tutor. He was therefore delighted to beable to tell them that he was free to do whatever he pleased.

  "That's good," said they, "we shall have fine fun: we will go to theplace where we went last Sunday; one can play at ball there with allthe people of the neighbourhood, who are dressed in their Sundayclothes: they swear, they fight; it's capital sport! Jules was neargetting a thrashing from one of the players, because he laughed athim for never sending back the ball." "And Hippolyte," said theother, "had his nose and lips swelled for three days, from havingbeen hit by the ball, in the face; and then they drink beer. Thoughwe were sent to stay here the whole morning, we were determined to gothere; will you come with us?"

  "Certainly not," replied Armand, to whom this sport offered fewattractions: he had no ambition to contend with a porter, nor bestruck by a ball, nor to drink beer at a tavern. "You must come,"continued his companions. "Oh, we'll polish you up; we'll show youhow to amuse yourself."

  "I wish to amuse myself in my own way," said Armand, who endeavoured,but in vain, to extricate himself from his friends, who had eachtaken one of his arms, in order to drag him against his will out ofthe yard where they were. Armand cried out and struggled, and, seeinghis father at the window, "Papa," said he, "don't let them drag meaway by force."--"I! my son," replied M. de Saint Marsin, "why do youask me to prevent these young gentlemen from doing anything? You knowvery well that every one is free here. My friends, amuse yourselvesaccording to your own fancy. Armand, do just what you please. Ihave no wish to restrain you in any respect," and he withdrew fromthe window. The two lads laughed outrageously, repeating, as theyheld Armand tightly by the arm, "Armand, do just what you please;"and seeing that M. de Saint Marsin left them a clear stage, theyforced Armand to run along the streets, in spite of his cries andstruggles. As they passed along, people exclaimed, "Look at thoseyoung rascals fighting!" and, indeed, Armand did not make a veryrespectable appearance; he was without cravat, or hat; he had on asoiled over-coat, and his stockings were tied in a slovenly manner;it was this which delighted his mischievous companions, for theyknew he had a great objection to be seen in public, unless when welldressed, and they had sometimes fancied, when walking with him, thathe had manifested some degree of pride, in consequence of beingbetter dressed than they were. The remarks which were made on themincreased his annoyance and anger. "Let me go!" he exclaimed, "youhave no right to hold me against my will." "Hinder us, then," saidhis tormentors; but Armand was strong in arguments only, so thatin order to avoid being dragged along by force, he was obliged topromise that he would go with them voluntarily; but he was indignantat the treatment he had received, and might perhaps, notwithstandinghis promise, have been tempted to make his escape, had not his twotormentors kept constant guard over him, "Don't be a baby," theysaid, "you don't know how much you'll be amused."

  They soon reached a kind of tavern-garden, where several men wereplaying at ball. Jules' first joke was to push Armand in amongstthem; a ball struck him on the left ear, and the man whose throwhe had interfered with, gave him a blow with his fist on the rightshoulder, in order to push him out of the way. This threw him on thefeet of another man, who sent him off with a second blow, at the sametime swearing at him, and telling him to mind what he was about. Hehad not time to reply to this one, before the ball came boundingclose to him, and one of the men who ran after it, for the purpose ofsending it back again, threw
him on the ground with an oath, at thesame time falling with him; every one laughed, and especially Julesand Hippolyte. Armand had never in his life felt so enraged, butseeing that his anger was impotent, his heart was ready to burst, andhad not his pride restrained him, he would have cried with vexation.However, he restrained himself, and withdrawing from the players,he seized the moment when Jules and Hippolyte, who had probably hadsufficient of this kind of sport, were no longer watching him, andleaving the garden, he hastened home as fast as he could, tremblinglest he should see them coming after him. His heart swelled withanger and a sense of degradation, to find that he was unable eitherto defend himself, or to punish those who had so unworthily usedtheir strength against him. He reached home at last: his father wascoming out as he entered, and asked him, somewhat ironically, whetherhe enjoyed his walk. Armand could no longer contain himself; hesaid it was a shame to have encouraged Jules and Hippolyte to draghim away by force, as they had done: "If it was to punish me," hecontinued, "for the agreement you pretended to make with me, I oughtto have been told of it. I did not ask you to make such an agreement."

  "My child," said M. de Saint Marsin, "I have no wish to punish you; Ihave nothing to punish you for; I have no right to punish you. On theother hand, what right had I to prevent your companions from doingwhat they pleased with you. When you were dependent upon me, I couldsay, I do not wish him to do such and such things, consequently Iwill not allow any one to force him to do them. I could exercise myauthority, and even my strength, if necessary, to protect you fromthose who might desire to interfere with you. I could not permitany one to infringe my rights, by compelling you to obey them, butnow you depend upon yourself only; it is your business to defendyourself, to say I will not, and to discover what your will is worth.So long as you are unwilling to be dependent upon any one, no one isobliged to assist you."

  "I see, then," said Armand, in a tone of irritation, "that because Iam not dependent upon you, if you saw any one going to kill me, youwould say that you had no right to defend me."

  "Oh! no," said M. de Saint Marsin, smiling. "I do not think myforbearance would extend quite so far as that: however, I will thinkabout it. I have not yet examined the case. I do not very well seewhat are the duties of a father towards a child who does not considerhimself bound to obey his father. And remember that this is not myfault, for I never before met with a child who entertained theseideas."

  With these words he went away. Armand, who clearly perceived thatthey were making game of him, began to weary of these pleasantries;but at the same time, he was becoming confirmed in the idea offollowing his own will. Near the place where he had seen theball-playing, he had noticed another spot where they were firing ata target, and the idea of this had recurred to him since his return.His father, when in the country, had begun to teach him the use offirearms, and had even occasionally allowed him to accompany him ona shooting excursion, an amusement which greatly delighted Armand.But M. de Saint Marsin would not permit him to use firearms in Paris,notwithstanding his earnest assurances that he would employ themwith the greatest prudence. This prohibition was very grievous toArmand, who, in his wisdom, was quite satisfied that he would beable to amuse himself in this way without any danger. As he had nofancy for practising with such people as he had just escaped from, itoccurred to him that he might at least have a target in his father'sgarden, or shoot at the sparrows. He went to fetch from his father'sstudy, where they were always kept, his gun and some pistols whichhad been given him by one of his uncles. It was a mere chance thathe got at them, for since he had been intrusted with his liberty, M.de Saint Marsin, fearing he might make a dangerous use of them, hadalways been careful to keep them locked up; but his valet de chambrehaving to get something from the place where they were kept, had,notwithstanding the strict injunctions given to him, forgotten torelock the place, and take away the key. Armand therefore found thegun, the pistols, and some ammunition. On descending to the garden,he observed a cat running along the cornice of a neighbouring house;he took aim, missed, and walked on. He entered the garden, and thereshot away right and left, and kept up a firing sufficient to alarmthe whole neighbourhood.

  After exhausting his ammunition, he was returning across theyard, loaded with his artillery, when a man, who was talking veryvehemently with the porter, rushed towards him, saying, "Oh! that'shim! that's him! I knew very well it came from here. It is you, then,sir, who have been breaking my windows and my furniture, and werevery near killing my son. Oh, you shall pay well for this! I willbe paid; if not I'll go and fetch the police, and take you before amagistrate!" He was in such a rage, that he poured forth a torrentof words, without allowing himself time to take breath, and all thewhile he shook Armand by the arm. "Yes, yes, I'll take him before amagistrate," he said to the gossips of the neighbourhood, who beganto crowd round the gate.

  "That's right," said one; "with his gun and pistol shots, one wouldhave supposed that the enemy was at hand."

  "The balls hit our walls," said another, "and I didn't know where tohide myself."

  "Our poor Azor barked as if he was mad," said a third, "and I amstill trembling all over."

  "They shall pay me," continued the man. Armand, confounded, neitherknew what had happened, nor what they wanted. At length he becameaware that the shot which he had fired at the cat, had struck awindow above the ledge along which the animal was walking. Hehad loaded his gun with ball, thinking that small shot would notbe sufficient to kill it, and the ball had entered the window ofone of the finest apartments in a furnished house, and had brokena looking-glass worth two thousand francs, shattered a pendule,and knocked off the hat of the landlord's son, who happened to bestanding near the chimney-piece. At every incident the man related,he shook the arm of Armand, who was making fruitless efforts toescape from him. "You shall pay me," he continued, "as sure as myname is Bernard, and something more into the bargain, to teach younot to fire at other people's houses."

  "He would be rather puzzled to pay, I should think," said one of thewomen.

  "If he pays," added another, "it will not be out of his own purse."

  "It's all the same to me," said Bernard. "I must be paid: I don'tcare by whom. Where is M. de Saint-Marsin? I wish to speak with M. deSaint-Marsin!"

  "Here I am," said M. de Saint-Marsin, who entered at the moment."What do you want of me?"

  At the sight of his father, Armand turned pale; yet his presencegave him confidence of protection. Whilst they were explaining thefacts of the case, he timidly raised his eyes, but immediately castthem down again, like a criminal awaiting his sentence. When M. deSaint-Marsin understood the cause of all this commotion, he said, "M.Bernard, I am very sorry for the misfortune that has happened to you,but I can do nothing in the matter. If it be really my son who hasbroken your looking-glass, you must arrange with him, it is not mybusiness."

  "But it must of necessity be your business, Sir," replied M. Bernard,"otherwise who is to pay me?"

  "I know not, Sir, but if my son has done it, it was during myabsence, so that no one can suppose I have had anything to do withit. I do not answer for his actions."

  Then turning towards Armand, he said, "You must see, Armand, thatthis is just; that I cannot be responsible for your actions, when Ihave no means of making you obey my wishes."

  Armand was unable to reply, and stood with his eyes cast down, andhis hands clasped, while large tears rolled down his cheeks. M.Bernard, in a terrible fury, insisted on taking M. de Saint-Marsinbefore the magistrate.

  He ran to take refuge with his father, round whom he clung with all his strength.--P. 403.]

  "It is not I who ought to go, it is my son," said M. de Saint-Marsin.

  "Oh, your son may be sent to prison."

  "I am very sorry, Sir, but I can do nothing."

  "To the correctional police," continued M. Bernard.

  "I shall be exceedingly grieved, but I cannot prevent it."

  Armand at each word sobbed violently, and raised his eyes and claspedhands to
wards his father. Some one whispered to M. Bernard, "Here isthe commissary of police passing by." Armand heard him, and utteringa loud scream, he tore himself from the hands of M. Bernard, and ranto take refuge with his father, round whom he clung with all hisstrength, exclaiming, "Oh, papa, do not let the commissary take meaway; have pity on me!... Do not let me go to prison!"

  "What right have I to prevent him, my son? or in what respect is itmy duty to do so? Have you not renounced my protection?"

  "Oh, restore it to me! restore it to me! I will obey you, I will doeverything you wish."

  "Do you promise me this? Do you really desire that I should resume myauthority?"

  "Oh! yes! yes! Punish me in any way you please, but do not let me goto prison."

  "Follow me," said M. de Saint-Marsin; and turning to M. Bernard, hesaid, "M. Bernard, I trust this matter may be arranged without theintervention of the magistrate; have the goodness to wait here for mea few minutes."

  When he entered the house, he said to Armand, "My dear son, I do notwish to take advantage of a moment of trouble; think well of whatyou are going to do: have you made up your mind to obey me, and areyou now convinced that I have a right to exact obedience? I will notconceal from you, that if M. Bernard takes any proceedings, it willin all probability be against me, and that after having compelled meto pay the damages, I shall be ordered to prevent you from committingsimilar acts for the future. Will you believe, then, that you arebound to submit to my authority, or will you wait for the magistrateto order you to do so?"

  "Oh! no, no, papa!" said Armand, confused, and kissing his father'shand, which he covered with tears. "Forgive me, I entreat you."

  "My dear child," said his father, "I have nothing to forgive you: ingranting you your liberty, I knew very well that you would abuse it.I knew that by allowing you to follow your own judgment, I exposedyou to the danger of committing many faults; but it is for thisreason that you ought to feel the necessity of sometimes submittingto my judgment."

  Armand was unable to express his gratitude for so much indulgence andkindness. M. de Saint-Marsin returned to M. Bernard, and told himhe would have an estimate made of the amount of damage done, whichfortunately was not so great as M. Bernard had at first represented.Nevertheless it was considerable, and Armand, who happened to be inhis father's study on the day when they came to demand payment, didnot dare to raise his eyes, so much was he ashamed of what he haddone.

  "You now understand, my son," said M. de Saint-Marsin, "that parentshave a right to prevent the follies of their children, since theyhave to pay for them; but it is not only for such faults as they haveto pay for, that they are responsible, but for all the faults oftheir children, when they have the power of preventing them."

  "To whom are they responsible, papa?"

  "To God and to the world. To God, who requires that men should begood, reasonable, and as much as possible enlightened, but who doesnot require that children should become all this, by their ownunaided efforts. He has, therefore, intrusted their education andinstruction to their parents, and for this purpose has given them theauthority necessary for compelling them to receive instruction, andto endeavour to become virtuous. On the other hand, as the world alsodemands that children should be so brought up, as to become worthymembers of society, when they conduct themselves ill, when theymanifest vicious propensities, it is the parents who are reproached:they ought therefore to possess the means and authority of correctingand controlling their actions, until they attain sufficient strengthand reason to be rendered responsible for themselves."

  Armand felt the truth of these arguments. He still occasionally foundobedience troublesome, but he no longer obstinately clung to hisown ideas, for he perceived that there are many things which cannotpossibly be thoroughly understood by a boy of thirteen.