THE PORTER'S SON [1]
were the words that were carried down into
the cellar.
The General and his gracious lady were grand people. They had
two coats of arms on their carriage, a coat of arms for each of
them, and the gracious lady had had this coat of arms embroidered on
both sides of every bit of linen she had, and even on her nightcap and
her dressing-bag. One of the coats of arms, the one that belonged to
her, was a very dear one; it had been bought for hard cash by her
father, for he had not been born with it, nor had she; she had come
into the world too early, seven years before the coat of arms, and
most people remembered this circumstance, but the family did not
remember it. A man might well have a bee in his bonnet, when he had
such a coat of arms to carry as that, let alone having to carry two;
and the General's wife had a bee in hers when she drove to the court
ball, as stiff and as proud as you please.
The General was old and gray, but he had a good seat on horseback,
and he knew it, and he rode out every day, with a groom behind him
at a proper distance. When he came to a party, he looked somehow as if
he were riding into the room upon his high horse; and he had orders,
too, such a number that no one would have believed it; but that was
not his fault. As a young man he had taken part in the great autumn
reviews which were held in those days. He had an anecdote that he told
about those days, the only one he knew. A subaltern under his orders
had cut off one of the princes, and taken him prisoner, and the Prince
had been obliged to ride through the town with a little band of
captured soldiers, himself a prisoner behind the General. This was
an ever-memorable event, and was always told over and over again every
year by the General, who, moreover, always repeated the remarkable
words he had used when he returned his sword to the Prince; those
words were, "Only my subaltern could have taken your Highness
prisoner; I could never have done it!" And the Prince had replied,
"You are incomparable." In a real war the General had never taken
part. When war came into the country, he had gone on a diplomatic
career to foreign courts. He spoke the French language so fluently
that he had almost forgotten his own; he could dance well, he could
ride well, and orders grew on his coat in an astounding way. The
sentries presented arms to him, one of the most beautiful girls
presented arms to him, and became the General's lady, and in time they
had a pretty, charming child, that seemed as if it had dropped from
heaven, it was so pretty; and the porter's son danced before it in the
courtyard, as soon as it could understand it, and gave her all his
colored pictures, and little Emily looked at them, and was pleased,
and tore them to pieces. She was pretty and delicate indeed.
"My little Roseleaf!" cried the General's lady, "thou art born
to wed a prince."
The prince was already at the door, but they knew nothing of it;
people don't see far beyond the threshold.
"The day before yesterday our boy divided his bread and butter
with her!" said the porter's wife. "There was neither cheese nor
meat upon it, but she liked it as well as if it had been roast beef.
There would have been a fine noise if the General and his wife had
seen the feast, but they did not see it.
George had divided his bread and butter with little Emily, and
he would have divided his heart with her, if it would have pleased
her. He was a good boy, brisk and clever, and he went to the night
school in the Academy now, to learn to draw properly. Little Emily was
getting on with her education too, for she spoke French with her
"bonne," and had a dancing master.
"George will be confirmed at Easter," said the porter's wife;
for George had got so far as this.
"It would be the best thing, now, to make an apprentice of him,"
said his father. "It must be to some good calling- and then he would
be out of the house."
"He would have to sleep
the cellar.
The General and his gracious lady were grand people. They had
two coats of arms on their carriage, a coat of arms for each of
them, and the gracious lady had had this coat of arms embroidered on
both sides of every bit of linen she had, and even on her nightcap and
her dressing-bag. One of the coats of arms, the one that belonged to
her, was a very dear one; it had been bought for hard cash by her
father, for he had not been born with it, nor had she; she had come
into the world too early, seven years before the coat of arms, and
most people remembered this circumstance, but the family did not
remember it. A man might well have a bee in his bonnet, when he had
such a coat of arms to carry as that, let alone having to carry two;
and the General's wife had a bee in hers when she drove to the court
ball, as stiff and as proud as you please.
The General was old and gray, but he had a good seat on horseback,
and he knew it, and he rode out every day, with a groom behind him
at a proper distance. When he came to a party, he looked somehow as if
he were riding into the room upon his high horse; and he had orders,
too, such a number that no one would have believed it; but that was
not his fault. As a young man he had taken part in the great autumn
reviews which were held in those days. He had an anecdote that he told
about those days, the only one he knew. A subaltern under his orders
had cut off one of the princes, and taken him prisoner, and the Prince
had been obliged to ride through the town with a little band of
captured soldiers, himself a prisoner behind the General. This was
an ever-memorable event, and was always told over and over again every
year by the General, who, moreover, always repeated the remarkable
words he had used when he returned his sword to the Prince; those
words were, "Only my subaltern could have taken your Highness
prisoner; I could never have done it!" And the Prince had replied,
"You are incomparable." In a real war the General had never taken
part. When war came into the country, he had gone on a diplomatic
career to foreign courts. He spoke the French language so fluently
that he had almost forgotten his own; he could dance well, he could
ride well, and orders grew on his coat in an astounding way. The
sentries presented arms to him, one of the most beautiful girls
presented arms to him, and became the General's lady, and in time they
had a pretty, charming child, that seemed as if it had dropped from
heaven, it was so pretty; and the porter's son danced before it in the
courtyard, as soon as it could understand it, and gave her all his
colored pictures, and little Emily looked at them, and was pleased,
and tore them to pieces. She was pretty and delicate indeed.
"My little Roseleaf!" cried the General's lady, "thou art born
to wed a prince."
The prince was already at the door, but they knew nothing of it;
people don't see far beyond the threshold.
"The day before yesterday our boy divided his bread and butter
with her!" said the porter's wife. "There was neither cheese nor
meat upon it, but she liked it as well as if it had been roast beef.
There would have been a fine noise if the General and his wife had
seen the feast, but they did not see it.
George had divided his bread and butter with little Emily, and
he would have divided his heart with her, if it would have pleased
her. He was a good boy, brisk and clever, and he went to the night
school in the Academy now, to learn to draw properly. Little Emily was
getting on with her education too, for she spoke French with her
"bonne," and had a dancing master.
"George will be confirmed at Easter," said the porter's wife;
for George had got so far as this.
"It would be the best thing, now, to make an apprentice of him,"
said his father. "It must be to some good calling- and then he would
be out of the house."
"He would have to sleep