Louis de Polastron.”
“Well, I don’t care what kind of blood he has!” Louisa had retorted. “That would not give him the right to kiss me.”
Our mother thinks Louisa is sometimes too headstrong and outspoken and that neither is a desirable trait in a girl. Our father laughs and says he likes her to be spirited.
Louis de Polastron went on his way up the Canongate,attended by his valet. Louisa and I stayed on with Peg, hoping that Tam might appear again. We were not to be in luck. Once the afternoon had begun to fade we decided it was time to make for home and the heat of the fire. We felt sorry for Peg who had no fire to go to except the one in the tavern, but it was out of the question for us to take her home with us.
As we reached Gray’s Close the dancing class was coming out. The girls spilled into the street, full of giggles. The boys were somewhat quieter. Charlotte left the throng and came to join us.
“He is such a lad, the French boy!” she said, her dimples deepening. I do like her very much and sometimes Louisa teases me about her.
“William,” she said, “Don’t you think Charlotte looks very pretty now that Louis has kissed her?”
That set them both off giggling. Girls can be very irritating. At times I want to punch Louisa and on occasions have been known to do so, a reasonably gentle one, out of the sight of our parents, of course. She can deliver a good punch back, though it happens but seldom and we make up quickly.
I looked away from the two girls to see Monsieur Goriot standing a few yards away, at the side of the street. He must have come up the hill behind us though we had not noticed him. He appeared to be waiting for somebody.
It proved to be Louis de Polastron. Monsieur Goriot came forward when the boy emerged and greeted him.
“May I escort you home, Louis?” He spoke to him in French, of course.
I thought it odd he should come to escort Madame de Polastron’s son when he already had the valet. Perhaps he was trying to curry favour. He was wearing a simpering air now, different from how we had seen him before.
He jutted out his elbow for Louis to take.
The boy accepted. “
Merci
, Monsieur Goriot.”
“Don’t you think he is handsome?” asked Charlotte, gazing after them.
“Who? Monsieur Goriot?” said I, pretending to misunderstand.
“Louis, idiot!”
I shrugged and Louisa smiled one of her little smiles that make me want to give her a shove. I possibly would have done had Charlotte not been with us. We walked with her to her house further up the street, in the Lawnmarket, and then went home ourselves.
Our mother was in a fuss for she had found that we were short of candles. She was telling Bessie that she must go in the morning to buy some. “They’re cheaper to run than the oil lamps and I am doing my very best to economise.”
Bessie was trying to tell her that the candlemaker was refusing to serve her. “Nae unless he can see the colour of the money in ma haun.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.
“Nonsense! We have bought our candles from Mr Charles since the day I came to live in Edinburgh.”
“It’s true, Maman,” I put in. “We were in his shop last week and he gave me this bill.” I produced it from my pocket. I had neglected to give it to her or, perhaps, I had forgotten about it because I knew she would not be able to pay.
“Have him add them to the bill, Bessie,” said our mother.
“We can’t ask him to do that,” objected Louisa.
“Besides,” I said, “he
won’t
do it. He asked for an early settlement. I expect he needs the money.” I did not add that he has children to feed too, for that would have sounded as if I were lecturing my mother.
“You will just have to go to a different place then, Bessie. There are many other candlemakers in the town. We cannot be expected to live in the dark as well as starve.”
We were not quite starving for, somehow or other, Bessie managed to produce some food for the
“Well, I don’t care what kind of blood he has!” Louisa had retorted. “That would not give him the right to kiss me.”
Our mother thinks Louisa is sometimes too headstrong and outspoken and that neither is a desirable trait in a girl. Our father laughs and says he likes her to be spirited.
Louis de Polastron went on his way up the Canongate,attended by his valet. Louisa and I stayed on with Peg, hoping that Tam might appear again. We were not to be in luck. Once the afternoon had begun to fade we decided it was time to make for home and the heat of the fire. We felt sorry for Peg who had no fire to go to except the one in the tavern, but it was out of the question for us to take her home with us.
As we reached Gray’s Close the dancing class was coming out. The girls spilled into the street, full of giggles. The boys were somewhat quieter. Charlotte left the throng and came to join us.
“He is such a lad, the French boy!” she said, her dimples deepening. I do like her very much and sometimes Louisa teases me about her.
“William,” she said, “Don’t you think Charlotte looks very pretty now that Louis has kissed her?”
That set them both off giggling. Girls can be very irritating. At times I want to punch Louisa and on occasions have been known to do so, a reasonably gentle one, out of the sight of our parents, of course. She can deliver a good punch back, though it happens but seldom and we make up quickly.
I looked away from the two girls to see Monsieur Goriot standing a few yards away, at the side of the street. He must have come up the hill behind us though we had not noticed him. He appeared to be waiting for somebody.
It proved to be Louis de Polastron. Monsieur Goriot came forward when the boy emerged and greeted him.
“May I escort you home, Louis?” He spoke to him in French, of course.
I thought it odd he should come to escort Madame de Polastron’s son when he already had the valet. Perhaps he was trying to curry favour. He was wearing a simpering air now, different from how we had seen him before.
He jutted out his elbow for Louis to take.
The boy accepted. “
Merci
, Monsieur Goriot.”
“Don’t you think he is handsome?” asked Charlotte, gazing after them.
“Who? Monsieur Goriot?” said I, pretending to misunderstand.
“Louis, idiot!”
I shrugged and Louisa smiled one of her little smiles that make me want to give her a shove. I possibly would have done had Charlotte not been with us. We walked with her to her house further up the street, in the Lawnmarket, and then went home ourselves.
Our mother was in a fuss for she had found that we were short of candles. She was telling Bessie that she must go in the morning to buy some. “They’re cheaper to run than the oil lamps and I am doing my very best to economise.”
Bessie was trying to tell her that the candlemaker was refusing to serve her. “Nae unless he can see the colour of the money in ma haun.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.
“Nonsense! We have bought our candles from Mr Charles since the day I came to live in Edinburgh.”
“It’s true, Maman,” I put in. “We were in his shop last week and he gave me this bill.” I produced it from my pocket. I had neglected to give it to her or, perhaps, I had forgotten about it because I knew she would not be able to pay.
“Have him add them to the bill, Bessie,” said our mother.
“We can’t ask him to do that,” objected Louisa.
“Besides,” I said, “he
won’t
do it. He asked for an early settlement. I expect he needs the money.” I did not add that he has children to feed too, for that would have sounded as if I were lecturing my mother.
“You will just have to go to a different place then, Bessie. There are many other candlemakers in the town. We cannot be expected to live in the dark as well as starve.”
We were not quite starving for, somehow or other, Bessie managed to produce some food for the
Similar Books
