r permission, my
dear father and mother, to go to Paris and see what I may see."
My mother had turned pale as soon as she saw the drift of my speech, and
was for putting every plea in the way. But my father, though he looked
serious, seemed not displeased. We talked upon the matter--as to how
long I should wish to stay in Paris, whether I had thought of aiming at
any particular career there, and of such things. I said I had formed no
plans nor hopes: these might or might not come after I had arrived in
Paris and looked about me. But see something of the world I must, if
only that I might not be at disadvantage in conversation afterward. It
was a thing I could afford, for on the attainment of my majority my
father had made over to me the income of a portion of our estate, a
small enough revenue indeed, but one that looked great in my eyes. He
could not now offer any reasonable objection to my project, and he plead
my cause with my mother, without whose consent I should not have had the
heart to go. Indeed, knowing what her dread had always been, and seeing
the anxious love in her eyes as she now regarded me, I almost wavered.
But of course she was won over, as women are, though what tears her
acquiescence caused her afterwards when she was alone I did not like to
think upon.
She comforted herself presently with the thought that our faithful
Blaise Tripault should attend me, but here again I had to oppose her.
For Blaise, by reason of his years and the service he had done my father
in the old wars, was of a dictatorial way with all of us, and I knew he
would rob me of all responsibility and freedom, so that I should be
again a lad under the thumb of an elder and should profit nothing in
self-reliance and mastership. Besides this reason, which I urged upon my
parents, I had my own reason, which I did not urge, namely, that I
should never dare let Blaise know the special purpose of my visit to
Paris. He would laugh me out of countenance, and yet ten to one he would
in the end deprive me of the credit of keeping my promise, by taking its
performance upon himself. That I might be my own master, therefore, I
chose as my valet the most tractable fellow at my disposal, one Nicolas,
a lank, knock-kneed jack of about my own age, who had hitherto made
himself of the least possible use, with the best possible intentions,
between the dining-hall and the kitchen. And yet he was clever enough
among horses, or anywhere outdoors. My m
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