Bonaventure Part 14

"Right! my chile! co'ect, Toutou!" cried Bonaventure, running and patting the little hero on the back and head by turns. "Sir, let us"--He stopped short. The eyes of the house were on Chat-oue. He had risen to his feet and made a gesture for the visitor's attention. As the stranger looked at him he asked:--

"He spell dat las word r-i-i-ight?" But the visitor with quiet gravity said, "Yes, that was all right;" and a companion pulled the Racc.o.o.n down into his seat again. Bonaventure resumed.

"Sir, let us not exhoss the time with spelling! You shall now hear them read."

The bell taps, the cla.s.s retires; again, and the reading cla.s.s is up.

They are the larger girls and boys. But before they begin the master has a word for their fathers and mothers.

"Friends and fellow-citizens of Gran' Point', think not at the suppi-zing goodness of yo' chil'run' reading. 'Tis to this branch has been given the largest attention and most as_sid_u'ty, so thus to comprise puffection in the English tongue, whether speaking aw otherwise." He turned to the stranger beside him. "I am not satisfied whilst the slightest accent of French is remaining. But you shall judge if they read not as if in their own vernaculary. And you shall choose the piece!"

The visitor waived the privilege, but Bonaventure gently insisted, and he selected Jane Taylor's little poem, "The Violet," glancing across at Sidonie as he himself read out the first two lines:--

"Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew."

Bonaventure proclaimed the t.i.tle and page and said:--

"Claude, p'oceed!" And Claude read:--

"'Dthee vy--ee-lit. Dah-oon-a hin hay grin and-a shad-y bade--A mo-dest-a vy-ee-lit gr[)o]o--Hits-a stallk whoz baint hit hawngg-a hits hade--Has hif-a too hah-ed-a frawm ve-[)o]o. Hand h-yet it whoz a lo-vly flow'r--Hits-a co-lors-a brah-eet and fair-a--Heet maheet-a h[=a]ve gra.s.s-ed a rozzy bow'r--Heenstade-a hof hah-ee-dingg there"--

"Stop!" cried Bonaventure; "stop! You p.r.o.nounciate' a word faultily!"

He turned to the visitor. "I call not that a miss; but we must inoculate the idea of puffection. So soon the sly-y-test misp'onounciating I pa.s.s to the next." He turned again: "Next!" And a black-haired girl began in a higher key, and very slowly:--

"Yate there eet whoz cawntaint-a too bulloom--Heen mo-dest-a teent z-arrayed--And there-a heet sprade-a heets swit pre-fume-a--Whit-hin thee sy-y-lent-a shade"--

"Stop! Not that you mistook, but--'tis enough. Sir, will you give yourself the pain to tell--not for my sake or reputation, but to the encouragement of the chil'run, and devoid flattery--what is yo'

opinion of that specimen of reading? Not t'oubling you, but, in two or three word' only--if you will give yo'self the pain"--

"Why, certainly; I think it is--I can hardly find words--it's remarkable." Bonaventure started with joy.

"Chil'run, do you hear? Remawkable! But do you not detect no slight--no small faultiness of p'onounciating?"

"No, not the slightest; I smile, but I was thinking of something else." The visitor's eye, wandering a trifle, caught Chat-oue giving him one black look that removed his disposition to smile, yet he insisted, "No, sir; I can truthfully say I never heard such a p.r.o.nunciation." The audience drank his words.

"Sir," cried the glad preceptor, "'tis toil have p'oduce it! Toil of the teacher, in_dust_ry of the chil'run! But it has p'oduce' _beside_!

Sir, look--that school! Since one year commencing the A B C--and now spelling word' of eight syllabl'!"

"Not _this_ school?"

"Sir, you shall see--or, more p'operly, hear. First spelling!"

"Yes," said the stranger, seeing Sidonie rise, "I'd like to hear that cla.s.s;" and felt Chat-oue looking at him again.

CHAPTER XI.

LIGHT, LOVE, AND VICTORY.

The bell tapped, and they came forth to battle. There was the line, there was the leader. The great juncture of the day was on him. Was not here the State's official eye? Did not victory hover overhead? His reserve, the darling regiment, the flower of his army, was dressing for the final charge. There was Claude. Next him, Sidonie!--and etienne, and Madelaine, Henri and Marcelline,--all waiting for the word--the words--of eight syllables! Supreme moment! Would any betray?

Banish the thought! Would any fail?

He waited an instant while two or three mothers bore out great armfuls of slumbering or fretting infancy and a number of young men sank down into the vacated chairs. Then he stepped down from the platform, drew back four or five yards from the cla.s.s, opened the spelling-book, scanned the first word, closed the book with his finger at the place, lifted it high above his head, and cried:

"Claude! Claude, my brave scholar, always perfect, ah you ready?" He gave the little book a half whirl round, and dashed forward toward the chosen scholar, crying as he came:

"In-e-rad-i-ca-bility!"

Claude's face suddenly set in a stony vacancy, and with his eyes staring straight before him he responded:

"I-n, in-, e, inerad-, r-a-d, rad-, inerad-, ineraddy-, ineradica-, c-a, ca, ineradica-, ineradicabili-, b-i-elly-billy, ineradicabili-, ineradicabili-, t-y, ty, ineradicability."

"Right! Claude, my boy! my always good scholar, right!" The master drew back to his starting-place as he spoke, re-opened the book, shut it again, lifted it high in air, cried, "Madelaine, my dear chile, prepare!" whirled the book and rushed upon her with--

"In-de-fat-i-ga-bil-ly-ty!"

Madelaine turned to stone and began:

"I-n, een, d-e, de-, inde-, indefat-, indefat--fat--f-a-t, fat, indefat, indefatty, i, ty, indefati-, indefatiga-, g-a, ga, indefatiga-, indefatigabilly, b-i-elly, billy, indefatigabili-, t-y, ty, indefatigability."

"O, Madelaine, my chile, you make yo' teacher proud! prah-ood, my chile!" Bonaventure's hand rested a moment tenderly on her head as he looked first toward the audience and then toward the stranger. Then he drew off for the third word. He looked at it twice before he called it. Then--

"Sidonie! ah! Sidonie, be ready! be prepared! fail not yo' humble school-teacher! In-com"--He looked at the word a third time, and then swept down upon her:

"In-com-pre-hen-si-ca-_bility_!"

Sidonie flinched not nor looked upon him, as he hung over her with the spelling-book at arm's-reach above them; yet the pause that followed seemed to speak dismay, and throughout the cla.s.s there was a silent recoil from something undiscovered by the master. But an instant later Sidonie had chosen between the two horns of her agonizing dilemma, and began:

"I-n, een, c-o-m, cawm, eencawm, eencawmpre, p-r-e, pre, eencawmpre, eencawmprehen, prehen, haich-e-n, hen, hen, eencawmprehensi, s-i, si, eencawmprehensi-, b-i-l"--

"Ah! Sidonie! Stop! _Arretez!_ Si-do-nie-e-e-e! Oh! listen--_ecoutez_-- Sidonie, my dear!" The master threw his arms up and down in distraction, then suddenly faced his visitor, "Sir, it was my blame! I spoke the word without adequate distinction! Sidonie--_maintenant_--now!" But a voice in the audience interrupted with--

"_a.s.soiez-vous la_, Chat-oue! Seet down yondeh!" And at the potent voice of Maximian Roussel the offender was pushed silently into the seat he had risen from, and Bonaventure gave the word again.

"In-com-pre-hen-si-ca-bil-i-ty!" And Sidonie, blushing like fire, returned to the task:

"I-n, een"--She bit her lip and trembled.

"Right! _Right!_ Tremble not, my Sidonie! fear naught! yo' loving school-teacher is at thy side!" But she trembled like a red leaf as she spelled on--"Haich-e-n, hen, eencawmprehen, eencawmprehensi, s-i, si, eencawmprehensi-, eencawmprehensi-billy-t-y, ty, incomprehensibility!"

The master dropped his hands and lifted his eyes in speechless despair. As they fell again upon Sidonie, her own met them. She moaned, covered her face in her hands, burst into tears, ran to her desk and threw her hands and face upon it, shaking with noiseless sobs and burning red to the nape of her perfect neck. All Grande Pointe rose to its feet.

"Lost!" cried Bonaventure in a heart-broken voice. "Every thing lost!

Farewell, chil'run!" He opened his arms toward them and with one dash all the lesser ones filled them. They wept. Tears welled from Bonaventure's eyes; and the mothers of Grande Pointe dropped again into their seats and silently added theirs.

The next moment all eyes were on Maximian. His strong figure was mounted on a chair, and he was making a gentle, commanding gesture with one hand as he called: