Marie; a story of Russian love eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 112 pages of information about Marie; a story of Russian love.

Marie; a story of Russian love eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 112 pages of information about Marie; a story of Russian love.

At this time, to complete my education, my father engaged upon a salary a Frenchman, M. Beaupre, who was brought from Moscow with one year’s provision of wine and oil from Provence.  His arrival of course displeased Saveliitch.

Beaupre had been in his own country a valet, in Prussia a soldier, then he came to Russia to be a tutor, not knowing very well what the word meant in our language.  He was a good fellow, astonishingly gay and absent-minded.  His chief foible was a passion for the fair sex.  Nor was he, to use his own expression, an enemy to the bottle —­that is to say, a la Russe, he loved drink.  But as at home wine was offered only at table, and then in small glasses, and as, moreover, on these occasions, the servants passed by the pedagogue, Beaupre soon accustomed himself to Russian brandy, and, in time, preferred it, as a better tonic, to the wines of his native country.  We became great friends, and although according to contract he was engaged to teach me French, German, and all the sciences, yet he was content that I should teach him to chatter Russian.  But as each of us minded his own business, our friendship was constant, and I desired no mentor.  However, destiny very soon separated us, in consequence of an event which I will relate.

Our laundress, a fat girl all scarred by small-pox, and our dairymaid, who was blind of an eye, agreed, one fine day, to throw themselves at my mother’s feet and accuse the Frenchman of trifling with their innocence and inexperience!

My mother would have no jesting upon this point, and she in turn complained to my father, who, like a man of business, promptly ordered “that dog of a Frenchman” into his presence.  The servant informed him meekly that Beaupre was at the moment engaged in giving me a lesson.

My father rushed to my room.  Beaupre was sleeping upon his bed the sleep of innocence.  I was deep in a most interesting occupation.  They had brought from Moscow, for me, a geographical map, which hung unused against the wall; the width and strength of its paper had been to me a standing temptation.  I had determined to make a kite of it, and profiting that morning by Beaupre’s sleep, I had set to work.  My father came in just as I was tying a tail to the Cape of Good Hope!  Seeing my work, he seized me by the ear and shook me soundly; then rushing to Beaupre’s bed, awakened him without hesitating, pouring forth a volley of abuse upon the head of the unfortunate Frenchman.  In his confusion Beaupre tried in vain to rise; the poor pedagogue was dead drunk!  My father caught him by the coat-collar and flung him out of the room.  That day he was dismissed, to the inexpressible delight of Saveliitch.

Thus ended my education.  I now lived in the family as the eldest son, not of age whose career is yet to open; amusing myself teaching pigeons to tumble on the roof, and playing leap-frog in the stable-yard with the grooms.  In this way I reached my sixteenth year.

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Marie; a story of Russian love from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.