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Mademoiselle Panache
by
When Lady Augusta was a girl of twelve years old, she saw Mlle. Panache crush a spider to death without emotion: the lesson on humanity was not lost upon her. From imitation, she learned her governess’s foolish terror of insects; and from example, she was also taught that species of cruelty, by which at eighteen she disgusted a man of humanity who was in love with her. Mr. Mountague said not one word upon the occasion. They walked on. A few minutes after the caterpillar had been crushed, Lady Augusta exclaimed, “Why, mademoiselle, what have you done with Fanfan? I thought my dog was with us: for Heaven’s sake, where is he?”
“He is run, he is run on,” replied mademoiselle.
“Oh, he’ll be lost! he’ll run down the avenue, quite out upon the turnpike road.–Fanfan! Fanfan!”
“Don’t alarm, don’t distress yourself,” cried Dashwood: “if your ladyship will permit me, I’ll see for Fanfan instantly, and bring her back to you, if she is to be found in the universe.”
“O Lord! don’t trouble yourself; I only spoke to mademoiselle, who regularly loses Fanfan when she takes him out with her.” Dashwood set out in search of the dog; and Lady Augusta, overcome with affectation, professed herself unable to walk one yard further, and sank down upon a seat under a tree, in a very graceful, languid attitude. Mr. Mountague stood silent beside her. Mademoiselle went on with a voluble defence of her conduct towards Fanfan, which lasted till Dashwood reappeared, hurrying towards them with the dog in his arms–” Ah, la voila! chere Fanfan!” exclaimed mademoiselle.
“I am sure I really am excessively obliged to Mr. Dashwood, I must say,” cried Lady Augusta, looking reproachfully at Mr. Mountague.
Dashwood now approached with panting, breathless eagerness, announcing a terrible misfortune, that Fanfan had got a thorn or something in his fore-foot. Lady Augusta received Fanfan upon her lap, with expressions of the most tender condolence; and Dashwood knelt down at her feet to sympathize in her sorrow, and to examine the dog’s paw. Mademoiselle produced a needle to extract the thorn.
“I wish we had a magnifying-glass,” said Dashwood, looking with strained solicitude at the wound.
“Oh, you insensible monster! positively you shan’t touch Fanfan,” cried Lady Augusta, guarding her lapdog from Mr. Mountague, who stooped now, for the first time, to see what was the matter. “Don’t touch him, I say; I would not trust him to you for the universe; I know you hate lapdogs. You’ll kill him–you’ll kill him.”
“I kill him! Oh no,” said Mr. Mountague; “I would not even kill a caterpillar.”
Lady Augusta coloured at these words; but she recovered herself when Dashwood laughed, and asked Mr. Mountague how long it was since he had turned brahmin; and how long since he had professed to like caterpillars and earwigs.
” Bon Dieu! –earwig!” interrupted mademoiselle: “is it possible that monsieur or any body dat has sense, can like dose earwig?”
“I do not remember,” answered Mr. Mountague, calmly, “ever to have professed any liking for earwigs.”
“Well, pity; you profess pity for them,” said Mr. Dashwood, “and pity, you know, is ‘akin to love.’–Pray, did your ladyship ever hear of the man who had a pet toad?”[5]
[Footnote 5: Vide Smellie’s Natural History, vol. ii.]
“Oh, the odious wretch!” cried Lady Augusta, affectedly; “but how could the man bring himself to like a toad?”
“He began by pitying him, I suppose,” said Dashwood. “For my part, I own I must consider that man to be in a most enviable situation whose heart is sufficiently at ease to sympathize with the insect creation.”
“Or with the brute creation,” said Mr. Mountague, smiling and looking at Fanfan, whose paw Dashwood was at this instant nursing with infinite tenderness.
“Oh, gentlemen, let us have no more of this, for Heaven’s sake!” said Lady Augusta, interposing, with affected anxiety, as if she imagined a quarrel would ensue. “Poor dear Fanfan, you would not have any body quarrel about you, would you, Fanfan?” She rose as she spoke, and, delivering the dog to Dashwood to be carried home, she walked towards the house, with an air of marked displeasure towards Mr. Mountague.