ght to
expect; for when Francoise (who guessed that something extraordinary
must have happened when she saw Mamma sitting by my side, holding my
hand and letting me cry unchecked) said to her: "But, Madame, what is
little Master crying for?" she replied: "Why, Francoise, he doesn't know
himself: it is his nerves. Make up the big bed for me quickly and then
go off to your own." And thus for the first time my unhappiness was
regarded no longer as a fault for which I must be punished, but as
an involuntary evil which had been officially recognised a nervous
condition for which I was in no way responsible: I had the consolation
that I need no longer mingle apprehensive scruples with the bitterness
of my tears; I could weep henceforward without sin. I felt no small
degree of pride, either, in Franchise's presence at this return to
humane conditions which, not an hour after Mamma had refused to come up
to my room and had sent the snubbing message that I was to go to sleep,
raised me to the dignity of a grown-up person, brought me of a sudden to
a sort of puberty of sorrow, to emancipation from tears. I ought then to
have been happy; I was not. It struck me that my mother had just made
a first concession which must have been painful to her, that it was a
first step down from the ideal she had formed for me, and that for the
first time she, with all her courage, had to confess herself beaten. It
struck me that if I had just scored a victory it was over her; that I
had succeeded, as sickness or sorrow or age might have succeeded, in
relaxing her will, in altering her judgment; that this evening opened
a new era, must remain a black date in the calendar. And if I had dared
now, I should have said to Mamma: "No, I don't want you; you mustn't
sleep here." But I was conscious of the practical wisdom, of what
would be called nowadays the realism with which she tempered the ardent
idealism of my grandmother's nature, and I knew that now the mischief
was done she would prefer to let me enjoy the soothing pleasure of
her company, and not to disturb my father again. Certainly my mother's
beautiful features seemed to shine again with youth that evening, as she
sat gently holding my hands and trying to check my tears; but, just for
that reason, it seemed to me that this should not have happened; her
anger would have been less difficult to endure than this new kindness
which my childhood had not known; I felt that I had with an impious and
s