CHAPTER VIII

   “E’en now the devastation is begun,
   And half the business of destruction done.”

   GOLDSMITH.

Madame de Fleury was not disappointed in her pupils.  When the public disturbances began, these children were shocked by the horrible actions they saw.  Instead of being seduced by bad example, they only showed anxiety to avoid companions of their own age who were dishonest, idle, or profligate.  Victoire’s cousin Manon ridiculed these absurd principles, as she called them, and endeavoured to persuade Victoire that she would be much happier if she followed the fashion.

“What!  Victoire, still with your work-bag on your arm, and still going to school with your little sister, though you are but a year younger than I am, I believe!—­thirteen last birthday, were not you?—­Mon Dieu!  Why, how long do you intend to be a child? and why don’t you leave that old nun, who keeps you in leading-strings?—­I assure you, nuns, and school-mistresses, and schools, and all that sort of thing, are out of fashion now—­we have abolished all that—­we are to live a life of reason now—­and all soon to be equal, I can tell you; let your Madame de Fleury look to that, and look to it yourself; for with all your wisdom, you might find yourself in the wrong box by sticking to her, and that side of the question.—­Disengage yourself from her, I advise you, as soon as you can.—­My dear Victoire! believe me, you may spell very well—­but you know nothing of the rights of man, or the rights of woman.”

“I do not pretend to know anything of the rights of men, or the rights of women,” cried Victoire; “but this I know:  that I never can or will be ungrateful to Madame de Fleury.  Disengage myself from her!  I am bound to her for ever, and I will abide by her till the last hour I breathe.”

“Well, well! there is no occasion to be in a passion—­I only speak as a friend, and I have no more time to reason with you; for I must go home, and get ready my dress for the ball to-night.”

“Manon, how can you afford to buy a dress for a ball?”

“As you might, if you had common sense, Victoire—­only by being a good citizen.  I and a party of us denounced a milliner and a confectioner in our neighbourhood, who were horrible aristocrats; and of their goods forfeited to the nation we had, as was our just share, such delicious marangues and charming ribands!—­Oh, Victoire, believe me, you will never get such things by going to school, or saying your prayers either.  You may look with as much scorn and indignation as you please, but I advise you to let it alone, for all that is out of fashion, and may, moreover, bring you into difficulties.  Believe me, my dear Victoire, your head is not deep enough to understand these things—­you know nothing of politics.”

“But I know the difference between right and wrong, Manon:  politics can never alter that, you know.”