THE HISTORY OF A LOUIS D'OR. (continued 3)

"Yes, but you would sell it."

"That is not certain. There are drugs which must be prepared in advance, in order that they may always be ready in case of need, and which, nevertheless, if kept too long, run the risk of being spoiled. This risk we are obliged to charge against those who have money, by making them pay a higher price, which is but just; but it is also just that the poor should profit by it in receiving for nothing what might otherwise be spoiled."

Ernestine was satisfied with the surgeon's arguments, but she told her mother that as she wished to make him a present which would not be very expensive to her, she had determined to embroider a waistcoat for him, which would suit his portly person wonderfully well. Her mother approved of her idea, and even assisted her, and when the waistcoat was completed, the surgeon was invited to dinner. Ernestine placed it under his napkin, and it gave him so much pleasure, that there was certainly nothing in the world which he would not have done to oblige his little sister of charity, as he always called her.

From the moment that Marianne began to improve, she had required soup, and the surgeon wished it to be made of lighter bread than that which was baked for the servants, that it might not injure a stomach weakened as much by want as by illness. Ernestine, at first, bought some, but she afterwards remarked that large pieces were frequently left from that served at their own table, which no one made use of, and which were only thrown into the refuse-basket. She had, at first, some scruples as to the propriety of making use of these.

"Mamma," said she to Madame de Cideville, "is it not wrong to collect pieces for Marianne as we do for Turc?"

"It is not at all the same thing, my child; for they ought only to be given to Turc, on the supposition that they cannot be put to any other use. If you gave them to Marianne only because they were refused by every one else, that would undoubtedly be wrong, for you know that God punished the wicked rich man, because he did nothing for Lazarus, except permitting him to eat the crumbs that fell from his table. Instead of performing an act of charity, you would show a cruel and odious contempt of the poor; but so far from its being a contempt of Marianne, that you collect this bread, you do it, on the contrary, for the sake of having additional means of benefiting her."

Ernestine, though thus encouraged by her mother, nevertheless felt rather embarrassed when she carried these pieces to Marianne, after having cut them as neatly as possible. She wished to take them herself, although Suzette was her usual messenger in these cases, and she blushed, as she showed them to the neighbour who was to prepare the soup. The latter showed them to Marianne, who seemed much pleased at the prospect of having such pieces every day, and Ernestine saw plainly that where there is real kindness, there is never any danger of hurting the feelings of those whom we oblige; it is only intentional slight, or inattention, which can really wound. From this time Ernestine carefully made the round of the table each day, after breakfast, and after dinner, and sometimes, in order that she might carry to Marianne a little loaf quite whole, she said at breakfast that she preferred the household bread with her milk and butter.

Under all this care, the health of Marianne improved daily, but Ernestine looked with anxiety to the moment when her patient would again have to provide for herself and daughter, more especially as during her illness she had been obliged to neglect her little garden, which supplied her with vegetables. One day Ernestine saw Geneviève, the daughter of Jacques, the gardener, returning from catechism, crying. She was to make her first communion this year, and went to catechism to be instructed; but as she had no mother, and as her father had not time to hear her repeat her lesson, Geneviève, who was naturally indolent, always learned it badly, and was reprimanded. Ernestine, who was much more advanced, although younger than Geneviève, offered to go over her lessons with her, and by dint of pains at last succeeded in fixing them in her mind. Her only object, at first, had been to be useful to Geneviève, but the same day, the gardener having asked her how Marianne was getting on, she replied, "Pretty well, but I am afraid her garden is doing very badly, for no one takes care of it."

"We must see to that," said Jacques, and Ernestine smiled graciously as he went away. The next day, while in the garden hearing Geneviève her lesson, she saw Jacques returning from Marianne's, in whose garden he had been planting a few cabbages. He ordered Geneviève to go in the afternoon, and pull up the weeds, and promised Ernestine, who thanked him warmly, to take care of it as long as it might be necessary. She put Geneviève in a condition to receive her first communion, and when on leaving the church, Geneviève came to thank her, Ernestine experienced great delight, and a very pardonable pride, in seeing herself already useful to several people.

She was rewarded for her benevolence to Marianne in more ways than one; for as she had often favours to ask for, she became obliging to every one, and displayed a degree of attention and kindness which she had never previously manifested, so that every one became eager to gratify her. Her nurse, especially, had never before been so pleased with her, and hardly knew how to express her satisfaction. She took her to Marianne as often as she wished, and offered to teach Suzette to work; they also taught her to take care of her mother, as soon as she became convalescent, in order that her neighbours might return to their own affairs. They showed her, besides, how to weed and water the garden. Ernestine made her do this under her own superintendence, while one of the servants of the château, whom she politely begged to assist them, drew the buckets of water from the well. Ernestine often watered it herself; it was her chief recreation, for she no longer took pleasure in childish sports.

The serious and useful occupations in which she was engaged, inspired her with rational tastes, and she could no longer amuse herself with childish frivolities. At the same time, she had never felt so happy or less disposed to ennui; for when she had nothing else to do, she would take her knitting, and make a petticoat for Marianne, or she would arrange an old dress for Suzette, or work for herself; for her mother had promised her that the money she saved by making her own dresses, should be spent in wine for Marianne.

At length the time arrived when Marianne was allowed to get up. "I cannot yet walk," said she to Ernestine, "but I am able to work. If I had some hemp, I could spin." Ernestine bought her some, and Marianne, who was very industrious, and terribly wearied from having so long remained idle, spun from morning till night. She sent the thread to a weaver, who, in exchange, gave her a certain quantity of coarse linen cloth, which Madame de Cideville purchased of her for the use of the kitchen. She procured some fresh hemp, and began to spin again. A short time after Marianne's accident, Ernestine had bought for her a little pig, which she had obtained very cheap. A sty had been made for it in the yard of the château, out of some old planks, and it was fed from the refuse of the kitchen. Ernestine had taught Suzette to collect for it everything that could serve as food, and as it was now grown large, she gave it to Marianne. The garden had afforded a good crop of potatoes, and Ernestine was able to return to Paris, at the beginning of the winter, without any anxiety about the subsistence of her protegée, whose health was now quite re-established.

"Well, are you satisfied with the use you have made of your louis?" said M. de Cideville, when they were in the carriage. Ernestine threw her arms round her father's neck. This louis had made her so happy! It is true she had spent something additional, and had besides been well assisted.

"You have laid us under contribution for Marianne," said M. de Cideville, smiling. "When you are older, you will know that we ought not to concentrate the whole of our benevolence on a single object, but endeavour to make all the unfortunate who are within our reach, partakers of our bounty."

"But, papa, I was only able to take care of Marianne."

"Undoubtedly, and I am not blaming you; but as you will hereafter have greater means, you will, I hope, know how to combine your resources in such a manner that many may be benefited by them. Meanwhile, you have made so good a use of your louis, that I promise to give you one every three months, to be disposed of in a similar manner."

Ernestine clapped her hands with an exclamation of surprise and joy, and again threw herself into her father's arms.

"But remember," he said, "that this sum ought to form the smallest portion of the means you employ in doing good, and that you ought only to have recourse to it when you cannot manage otherwise."

Ernestine assured him that this was her intention, and that she would be very careful to spare her money.

"We ought to spare expense," replied her father, "whenever we can supply its place by care, industry, and order. The true use of money is to give us those things which we could not otherwise obtain; for instance, we cannot make our own shoes or clothes; therefore, we pay for having them made; and according to the usages of society, we cannot enjoy a certain position, and still wait upon ourselves; we therefore pay, in order to have servants. But a lady who, instead of taking care of her own household, and superintending her servants, pays another to do it in her place, makes but a bad use of her money; for it is absurd to employ it in purchasing from others what we can do ourselves. The same may be said of those who, instead of employing their activity and care in doing good, only make use of their money. They spend a great deal, and accomplish very little; for he who does everything with money, has never sufficient."

"It seems to me," said Ernestine, "that we also lose the pleasure of doing good; for if I had had ten louis to give to Marianne, they would not have afforded me so much happiness as the care which you have allowed me to take of her all the summer."

M. de Cideville informed his daughter, that there were many persons who believed they could render themselves happy by getting rid of everything which occasioned them the slightest trouble, but who, on the contrary, gave themselves up to the most frightful ennui. He told her that this happened to all those who shrank from struggling with the first difficulties and annoyances of a project: and, in fact, Ernestine remembered that, at the first moment, she would gladly have transferred to her parents, had she dared to do so, the care of providing for Marianne's wants, and thus have lost all the happiness she had since enjoyed.

Ernestine has grown up. It is usually on her father's estate that she employs, every year, the four louis, and especially the astonishing talent she has acquired of doing a great deal of good with very little money. She is adored by every one in the village, and as she has rendered services to many among them, she readily obtains from them assistance for those who stand in need of it. Thus her resources multiply. She has sown, in a corner of her father's park, those medicinal plants which are most generally required, and has also learned to dry them. She hopes that Suzette, who is becoming a pretty good workwoman, will soon, under her direction, be able to instruct the other girls of the village. She and her nurse have also taught her to read. As for herself, she endeavours to learn everything which can aid her in doing good, without spending too much money, and she laughs very heartily when she calls to mind the regret she once felt at not being able to spend a louis on a moving picture.