`Madame,' said the young woman, whom I never should have taken for a lady's-maid, she was dressed so elegantly, `here is Frisky.This gentleman found him, and brought him back.' `Oh, sir,' said the young lady with the golden hair, in a sweet silvery voice, `what thanks I owe you! I am foolishly attached to Frisky.' Then, no doubt, concluding from my dress that she ought to thank me in some other way than by words, she took up a silk purse, and said to me, though I must confess with some hesitation--`No doubt, sir, it gave you some trouble to bring my pet back.You have, perhaps, lost some valuable time--allow me--' She held forth her purse."
"Oh, Agricola," said Mother Bunch, sadly; "how people may be deceived!"
"Hear the end, and you will perhaps forgive the young lady.Seeing by my looks that the offer of the purse hurt me, she took a magnificent porcelain vase that contained this flower, and, addressing me in a tone full of grace and kindness, that left me room to guess that she was vexed at having wounded me, she said--`At least, sir, you will accept this flower.'"
"You are right, Agricola," said the girl, smiling sadly; "an involuntary error could not be repaired in a nicer way.
"Worthy young lady," said Frances, wiping her eyes; "how well she understood my Agricola!"
"Did she not, mother? But just as I was taking the flower, without daring to raise my eyes (for, notwithstanding the young lady's kind manner, there was something very imposing about her) another handsome girl, tall and dark, and dressed to the top of fashion, came in and said to the red-haired young lady, `He is here, Madame.' She immediately rose and said to me, `A thousand pardons, sir.I shall never forget that I am indebted to you for a moment of much pleasure.Pray remember, on all occasions, my address and name--Adrienne de Cardoville.' Thereupon she disappeared.I could not find a word to say in reply.The same young woman showed me to the door, and curtseyed to me very politely.And there I stood in the Rue de Babylone, as dazzled and astonished as if I had come out of an enchanted palace."
"Indeed, my child, it is like a fairy tale.Is it not, my poor girl?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Mother Bunch, in an absent manner that Agricola did not observe.
"What affected me most," rejoined Agricola, "was, that the young lady, on seeing her little dog, did not forget me for it, as many would have done in her place, and took no notice of it before me.That shows delicacy and feeling, does it not? Indeed, I believe this young lady to be so kind and generous, that I should not hesitate to have recourse to her in any important case."
"Yes, you are right," replied the sempstress, more and more absent.
The poor girl suffered extremely.She felt no jealousy, no hatred, towards this young stranger, who, from her beauty, wealth, and delicacy, seemed to belong to a sphere too splendid and elevated to be even within the reach of a work, girl's vision; but, making an involuntary comparison of this fortunate condition with her own, the poor thing had never felt more cruelly her deformity and poverty.Yet such were the humility and gentle resignation of this noble creature, that the only thing which made her feel ill-disposed towards Adrienne de Cardoville was the offer of the purse to Agricola; but then the charming way in which the young lady had atoned for her error, affected the sempstress deeply.Yet her heart was ready to break.She could not restrain her tears as she contemplated the magnificent flower--so rich in color and perfume, which, given by a charming hand, was doubtless very precious to Agricola.
"Now, mother," resumed the young man smilingly, and unaware of the painful emotion of the other bystander, "you have had the cream of my adventures first.I have told you one of the causes of my delay; and now for the other.Just now, as I was coming in, I met the dyer at the foot of the stairs, his arms a beautiful pea-green.Stopping me he said, with an air full of importance, that he thought he had seen a chap sneaking about the house like a spy, `Well, what is that to you, Daddy Loriot?'
said I: `are you afraid he will nose out the way to make the beautiful green, with which you are dyed up to the very elbows?'"
"But who could that man be, Agricola?" said Frances.
"On my word, mother, I don't know and scarcely care; I tried to persuade Daddy Loriot, who chatters like a magpie, to return to his cellar, since it could signify as little to him as to me, whether a spy watched him or not." So saying, Agricola went and placed the little leathern sack, containing his wages, on a shelf, in the cupboard.
As Frances put down the saucepan on the end of the table, Mother Bunch, recovering from her reverie, filled a basin with water, and, taking it to the blacksmith, said to him in a gentle tone--
"Agricola--for your hands."
"Thank you, little sister.How kind you are!" Then with a most unaffected gesture and tone, he added, "There is my fine flower for your trouble."
"Do you give it me?" cried the sempstress, with emotion, while a vivid blush colored her pale and interesting face."Do you give me this handsome flower, which a lovely rich young lady so kindly and graciously gave you?" And the poor thing repeated, with growing astonishment, "Do you give it to me?"
"What the deuce should I do with it? Wear it on my heart, have it set as a pin?" said Agricola, smiling."It is true I was very much impressed by the charming way in which the young lady thanked me.I am delighted to think I found her little dog, and very happy to be able to give you this flower, since it pleases you.You see the day has been a happy one."
While Mother Bunch, trembling with pleasure, emotion, and surprise, took the flower, the young blacksmith washed his hands, so black with smoke and steel filings that the water became dark in an instant.Agricola, pointing out this change to the sempstress, said to her in a whisper, laughing,--
"Here's cheap ink for us paper-stainers! I finished some verses yesterday, which I am rather satisfied with.I will read them to you."
