Anne Clavering was but five years old. As yet, no taste for French "had dawned upon her soul," and very little for English; her mind being constantly occupied with her doll, and other playthings. Monsieur Ravigote, with all the excitability of his nation, was, in the main, a very good-natured man, and was really anxious for the improvement of his pupil. But all was in vain. Little Anne never knew her lessons, and had as yet acquired no other French phrase than "Oui, Monsieur."31
Every morning, Mr. Ravigote came with a face dressed in smiles, and earnest hope that his pupil was going that day to give him what he called "one grand satisfaction;" but the result was always the same.
One morning, as Uncle Philip sat reading the newspaper, and holding little Anne on his knee while she dressed her doll, Mr. Ravigote came in, bowing and smiling as usual, and after saluting Captain Kentledge, he said to the little child: "Well, my dear little friend, ma gentille Annette,32 I see by the look of your countenance that I shall have one grand satisfaction with you this day. Application is painted on your visage, and docility also. Is there not, ma chère?"33
"Oui, Monsieur," replied the little Anne.
"J'en suis ravi.34 Now, ma chère, commençons – commençons tout de suite."35
Little Anne slowly descended from her uncle's knee, carefully put away her doll and folded up her doll's clothes, and then made a tedious search for her book.
"Eh! bien, commençons," said Mr. Ravigote, "you move without any rapidity."
"Oui, Monsieur," responded little Anne, who, after she had taken her seat in a low chair beside Mr. Ravigote, was a long time getting into a comfortable position, and at last settled herself to her satisfaction by crossing her feet, leaning back as far as she could go, and hooking one finger in her coral necklace, that she might pull at it all the time.
"Eh! bien, ma chère; we will first have the lessons without the book," said Mr. Ravigote, commencing with the vocabulary. "Tell me the names of all the months of the year – for instance, January."
"Janvier," answered the pupil, promptly.
"Ah! very well, very well, indeed, ma chère– for once, you know the first word of your lesson. Ah! to-day I have, indeed, great hope of you. Come, now, February?"
"Fevrier," said little Anne.
"Excellent! excellent! you know the second word too – and now, then, March?"
"Marsh."
"Ah! no, no – but I am old; perhaps I did not rightly hear. Repeat, ma chère enfant,36 repeat."
"Marsh," cried little Anne in a very loud voice.
"Ah! you are wrong; but I will pardon you – you have said two words right. Mars, ma chère, Mars is the French for March the month. Come now, April."
"Aprile."
"Aprile! there is no such word as Aprile —Avril. And now tell me, what is May?"
"Mai."
"Excellent! excellent! capital! magnifique! you said that word parfaitement bien.37 Now let us proceed – June."
"Juney."
"Ah! no, no —Juin, ma chère, Juin– but I will excuse you. Now, tell me July."
Little Anne could make no answer.
"Ah! I fear – I begin to fear you. Are you not growing bad?"
"Oui, Monsieur," said little Anne.
"Come then; I will tell you this once —Juillet is the French for July. Now, tell me what is August?"
"Augoost!"
"Augoost! Augoost! there is no such a word. Why, you are very bad, indeed —Août, Août, Août."
The manner in which Mr. Ravigote vociferated this rather uncouth word, roused Uncle Philip from his newspaper and his rocking-chair, and mistaking it for a howl of pain, he started up and exclaimed, "Hallo!" Mr. Ravigote turned round in amazement, and Uncle Philip continued, "Hey, what's the matter? Has anything hurt you? I thought I heard a howl."
"Dear uncle," said little Anne, "Mr. Ravigote is not howling; he is only saying August in French."
Uncle Philip bit his lip and resumed his paper. Mr. Ravigote proceeded, "September?" and his pupil repeated in a breath, as if she was afraid to stop an instant lest she should forget —
"Septembre, Octobre, Novembre, Décembre."
"Ah! very well; very well, indeed," exclaimed Mr. Ravigote; "you have said these four words comme il faut;38 but it must be confessed they are not much difficult."
He then proceeded with the remainder of her vocabulary lesson; but in vain – not another word did she say that had the least affinity to the right one. "Ah!" said he, "je suis au desespoir;39 I much expected of you this day, but you have overtumbled all my hopes. Je suis abimé."40
"Oui, Monsieur, said little Anne.
"You are one mauvais sujet,"41 pursued the teacher, beginning to lose his patience; "punishment is all that you merit. Mais allons, essayons encore."42
Just at that moment the string of little Anne's beads (at which she had been pulling during the whole lesson) broke suddenly in two, and the beads began to shower down, a few into her lap, but most of them on the floor.
"Oh! quel dommage!"43 exclaimed Mr. Ravigote; "Mais n'importe, laissez-les,44 and continue your lesson."
But poor Mr. Ravigote found it impossible to make the little girl pay the slightest attention to him while her beads were scattered on the floor; and his only alternative was to stoop down and help her to pick them up. Uncle Philip raised his eyes from the paper, and said, "Never mind the beads, my dear; finish the lesson, and I will buy you a new coral necklace to-morrow, and a much prettier one than that."
Little Anne instantly rose from the floor, and whisking into her chair, prepared to resume her lesson with alacrity.
"Eh! bien," said the teacher, "now we will start off again, and read the inside of a book. Come, here is the fable of the fox and the grapes. These are the fables that we read during the ancien régime; there are none so good now."
Mr. Ravigote then proceeded to read with her, translating as he went on, and making her repeat after him – "A fox of Normandy, (some say of Gascony,) &c., &c. Now, my dear, you must try this day and make a copy of the nasal sounds as you hear them from me. It is in these sounds that you are always the very worst. The nasal sounds are the soul and the life of French speaking."
The teacher bent over the book, and little Anne followed his pronunciation more closely than she had ever done before: he exclaiming at every sentence, "Very well – very well, indeed, my dear. To-day you have the nasal sounds, comme une ange."45
But on turning round to pat her head, he perceived that gentille Annette was holding her nose between her thumb and finger, and that it was in this way only she had managed