The Argosy — page 83: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 MADAME DE STAEL. | a the year 1766 there was joy one day in the house of M. Necker, the rising young man who was beginning to make such a mark for himself in political life, for a little daughter had been born to him ; but it was a sober, measured joy, for the young mother was one of the most strict followers of the severe sect of Calvinists. The child, before she could well speak plainly, was remarkable for sharp, piquant little sayings, which set bonnes. and lady visitors in a roar, and the wondrously expressive pantomime which accompanied her talk, added yet a further and most irresistible charm to her many graceful whims and conceits. Louise’s first toy—a toy, too, of her own special imagining and invention—caused her Calvinist mother no small exercising of mind. One or two of the servants had paid stolen visits to the play-house, and had whispered much together in the child’s hearing about its clittering wonders. Mademoiselle Louise knew well enough that she should never be permitted by her mother to go to such a place of amusement, but why should she not have a theatre of her own? The question went whirling hither and thither through her restless young mind, until it brought forth unexpected fruit. One morning the little lady begged an old box of her bonne, and that much-enduring personage was most agreeably surprised to find how entirely this seemingly insignificant present occupied, in some strange, mysterious way, all the energies of her lively, quicksilver-like charge. What was her astonishment when she found the box trans- formed into a miniature stage, with a few coloured prints for scenery. On these boards her dolls were made dexterously to perform their entries and exits, the dramatic company was strengthened by several skilfully cut-out and painted paper figures, the dialogue was supplied by the young manageress herself, who now went off into long ripples of laughter at her own wit, and now sobbed passionately behind her pinafore at her own pathos. In all the April sorrows of her childhood, and all its rainbow-tinted joys, little Louise had one unfailingly sympathizing friend, one untiring playfellow ; this was her father. M. Necker was a singularly sweet- tempered, cheery-natured man, and his little daughter was not slow to find out this. Her father’s knee was a sure haven of safety to which she could fly whenever the wrath of mother, aunt, or governess pursued her with Juno-like persistency. Her father’s ear was always a willing receptacle for every new fairy fancy. With her small arms clasped around that well-loved neck, with her head nestling on that trusted breast, she felt as if she might bid defiance to the whole world. Besides, this strong affection for her father was to prove no ~ EORNIECLOOOKS .E@