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Page 35
Madame de S�vign�, meantime, is in a discomfort of her own. It takes
her some ten days to absorb the _petite personne_, but then she fixes
her for ever. Nobody can wish to know more about a young party than
this:
"_Christmas Day_ (1675).... I still have that nice child here.
She lives on the other side of the park; her mother is the
good-wife Marcile's daughter--but you won't remember her. The
mother lives at Rennes, but I shall keep her here. She plays
_trictrac, reversis;_ she is quite pretty, quite innocent, and
called Jeannette. She is no more trouble than Fid�le."
Quite pretty, quite innocent and called Jeannette! _Quid Plura?_ Need
I say who Fid�le was? Fid�le is a shrewd touch of Madame's, put in,
as I guess, to placate the hungry-eyed Goddess of Grignan; but it
does clinch the portrait. All that one needs to know of the nature,
parentage, and upbringing of a _petite personne_ is in these two
letters.
Immediately upon her entry the comedy begins, with Mademoiselle du
Plessis in a leading part. "... La Plessis has a quartan fever. It is
pretty to see her jealous fury when she comes here and finds the
child with me. The fuss there is to have my stick or muff to hold! But
enough of these nothings...."
It was of nothings that the vexed days of Mlle. du Plessis must exist.
An elderly virgin, evidently; stiff, gauche, full of _guinderie_, says
Madame, "_et de l'esprit fichu_." Everybody made game of her at Les
Rochers. As we shall see, the servants knew that very well. Charles is
always witty at her expense. Madame de Grignan once slapped her.
Meanwhile, here's another vignette, a Chardin picture--you will find
nothing by Greuze of this _petite personne_. "... What do you think
of the handy little lady we were telling you of, who couldn't make out
what the day after Easter Eve was? She is a dear little rosebud of a
thing who delights us."
"'In six years to come she'll be twenty years old!' I wish you could
see her in the mornings, eating a hunk of bread-and-butter as long as
from here to Easter, or, after dinner, crunching up two green apples
with brown bread...."
But now the clowns come tumbling in, to turn over the poor du Plessis.
"... Mlle. du Plessis will die of the _petite personne_. Being more
than half dead of jealousy already, she is always at my people to find
out how I treat her. Not one of them but has a pin ready. One says
that I love her as much as I do you; another that I have her to sleep
with me--which would assuredly be a notable sign of affection! They
swear that I am taking her to Paris, that I kiss her, am mad about
her; that the Abb� is giving her 10,000 _livres_; that if she had but
20,000 _�cus_ I should marry her to my son. That is the sort of thing;
and they carry it so far that we can't help laughing at it. The poor
lady is ill with it all."
To the same letter Charles adds his scene in the farce: "La Plessis
said to Rahuel (he was the concierge) yesterday that she had been
gratified at dinner to find that Madame had turned the child out of
her seat and put herself in the place of honour. And Rahuel, in his
Breton way: 'Nay, Miss, there's no wonder. 'Tis an honour to your
years, naturally. Besides, the little girl is one of the house, as
you might say. Madame looks on her almost as she might be Madame de
Grignan's little sister.'"
La Plessis, in fact, agonised, and the way was made for the great
scene--so good a scene that I think it must have been bagged for
the theatre. Labiche must surely have lifted it. It is Charles de
S�vign�'s masterpiece.
"The young party here, when she saw how my mother's pains
increased towards night, thought that the best thing she could
do for her was to cry--which she did. She is that sort, and
always the focus of jealousy for la Plessis, who tries to
recommend herself to my mother by hating her like the devil.
This is what happened yesterday. My mother was dozing quietly
in bed; the child, the Abb� and I were by the fire. In came La
Plessis. We warned her to come quietly, and she did, and was
half across the room when my mother coughed, and then asked
for her handkerchief to get rid of some phlegm. The child and
I jumped up to get it, but La Plessis was too quick for us,
rushed to the bed, and instead of putting the thing to my
mother's lips, caught hold of her nose with it, and pinched
it so hard that the poor dear cried out with the pain. She
couldn't help being sniffy with the old fuss who had hurt
her so--nor laughing at her afterwards. If you had seen this
little comedy you would have laughed too."
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