第4章
MadameDescoings’spassionforcedhertobecontentwithfiftyfrancsamonthforherdomesticexpenses，soastogamblewiththerest。
Ontheotherhand，MadameBridau，motherlylove，keptherexpensesdowntothesamesum。Bywayofpenanceforherformerover-
confidence，sheheroicallycutoffherownlittleenjoyments。Aswithothertimidsoulsoflimitedintelligence，oneshocktoherfeelingsrousingherdistrustledhertoexaggerateadefectinhercharacteruntilitassumedtheconsistencyofavirtue。TheEmperor，shesaidtoherself，mightforgetthem；hemightdieinbattle；herpension，atanyrate，ceasedwithherlife。Sheshudderedattheriskherchildrenranofbeingleftaloneintheworldwithoutmeans。QuiteincapableofunderstandingRoguinwhenheexplainedtoherthatinsevenyearsMadameDescoings’sassignmentwouldreplacethemoneyshehadsoldoutoftheFunds，shepersistedintrustingneitherthenotarynorheraunt，noreventhegovernment；shebelievedinnothingbutherselfandtheprivationsshewaspractising。Bylayingasidethreethousandfrancseveryyearfromherpension，shewouldhavethirtythousandfrancsattheendoftenyears；whichwouldgivefifteenhundredayeartoherchildren。Atthirty-six，shemightexpecttolivetwentyyearslonger；andifshekepttothesamesystemofeconomyshemightleavetoeachchildenoughforthebarenecessariesoflife。
Thusthetwowidowspassedfromhollowopulencetovoluntarypoverty，——oneunderthepressureofavice，theotherthroughthepromptingsofthepurestvirtue。Noneofthesepettydetailsareuselessinteachingthelessonwhichoughttobelearnedfromthispresenthistory，drawnasitisfromthemostcommonplaceinterestsoflife，butwhosebearingsare，itmaybe，onlythemorewidespread。Theviewfromthewindowsintothestudentdens；thetumultoftherapinsbelow；thenecessityoflookingupattheskytoescapethemiserablesightsofthedampangleofthestreet；thepresenceofthatportrait，fullofsoulandgrandeurdespitetheworkmanshipofanamateurpainter；thesightoftherichcolors，nowoldandharmonious，inthatcalmandplacidhome；thepreferenceofthemotherforhereldestchild；heroppositiontothetastesoftheyounger；inshort，thewholebodyoffactsandcircumstanceswhichmakethepreambleofthishistoryareperhapsthegeneratingcausestowhichweoweJosephBridau，oneofthegreatestpaintersofthemodernFrenchschoolofart。
Philippe，theelderofthetwosons，wasstrikinglylikehismother。
Thoughablondlad，withblueeyes，hehadthedaringlookwhichisreadilytakenforintrepidityandcourage。OldClaparon，whoenteredtheministryoftheinterioratthesametimeasBridau，andwasoneofthefaithfulfriendswhoplayedwhisteverynightwiththetwowidows，usedtosayofPhilippetwoorthreetimesamonth，givinghimataponthecheek，“Here’sayoungrascalwho’llstandtohisguns！“
Theboy，thusstimulated，naturallyandoutofbravado，assumedaresolutemanner。Thatturnoncegiventohischaracter，hebecameveryadroitatallbodilyexercises；hisfightsattheLyceumtaughthimtheenduranceandcontemptforpainwhichlaysthefoundationofmilitaryvalor。Healsoacquired，verynaturally，adistasteforstudy；publiceducationbeingunabletosolvethedifficultproblemofdeveloping“paripassu“thebodyandthemind。
AgathebelievedthatthepurelyphysicalresemblancewhichPhilippeboretohercarriedwithitamorallikeness；andsheconfidentlyexpectedhimtoshowatafuturedayherowndelicacyoffeeling，heightenedbythevigorofmanhood。PhilippewasfifteenyearsoldwhenhismothermovedintothemelancholyappartementintherueMazarin；andthewinningwaysofaladofthatagewentfartoconfirmthematernalbeliefs。Joseph，threeyearsyounger，waslikehisfather，butonlyonthedefectiveside。Inthefirstplace，histhickblackhairwasalwaysindisorder，nomatterwhatpainsweretakenwithit；whilePhilippe’s，notwithstandinghisvivacity，wasinvariablyneat。Then，bysomemysteriousfatality，Josephcouldnotkeephisclothesclean；dresshiminnewclothes，andheimmediatelymadethemlooklikeoldones。Theelder，ontheotherhand，tookcareofhisthingsoutofmerevanity。Unconsciously，themotheracquiredahabitofscoldingJosephandholdinguphisbrotherasanexampletohim。Agathedidnottreatthetwochildrenalike；whenshewenttofetchthemfromschool，thethoughtinhermindastoJosephalwayswas，“WhatsortofstateshallIfindhimin？“Thesetriflesdroveherheartintothegulfofmaternalpreference。
Nooneamongtheveryordinarypersonswhomadethesocietyofthetwowidows——neitheroldDuBruelnoroldClaparon，norDesrochesthefather，noreventheAbbeLoraux，Agathe’sconfessor——noticedJoseph’sfacultyforobservation。Absorbedinthelineofhisowntastes，thefuturecoloristpaidnoattentiontoanythingthatconcernedhimself。
Duringhischildhoodthisdispositionwassoliketorporthathisfathergrewuneasyabouthim。Theremarkablesizeoftheheadandthewidthofthebrowrousedafearthatthechildmightbeliabletowateronthebrain。Hisdistressfulface，whoseoriginalitywasthoughtuglinessbythosewhohadnoeyeforthemoralvalueofacountenance，woreratherasullenexpressionduringhischildhood。Thefeatures，whichdevelopedlaterinlife，werepinched，andthecloseattentionthechildpaidtowhatwentonabouthimstillfurthercontractedthem。Philippeflatteredhismother’svanity，butJosephwonnocompliments。Philippesparkledwiththecleversayingsandlivelyanswersthatleadparentstobelievetheirboyswillturnoutremarkablemen；Josephwastaciturn，andadreamer。ThemotherhopedgreatthingsofPhilippe，andexpectednothingofJoseph。
Joseph’spredilectionforartwasdevelopedbyaverycommonplaceincident。DuringtheEasterholidaysof1812，ashewascominghomefromawalkintheTuilerieswithhisbrotherandMadameDescoings，hesawapupildrawingacaricatureofsomeprofessoronthewalloftheInstitute，andstoppedshortwithadmirationatthecharcoalsketch，whichwasfullofsatire。ThenextdaythechildstoodatthewindowwatchingthepupilsastheyenteredthebuildingbythedoorontherueMazarin；thenherandownstairsandslippedfurtivelyintothelongcourtyardoftheInstitute，fullofstatues，busts，half-finishedmarbles，plasters，andbakedclays；atallofwhichhegazedfeverishly，forhisinstinctwasawakened，andhisvocationstirredwithinhim。Heenteredaroomontheground-floor，thedoorofwhichwashalfopen；andtherehesawadozenyoungmendrawingfromastatue，whoatoncebegantomakefunofhim。
“Hi！littleone，“criedthefirsttoseehim，takingthecrumbsofhisbreadandscatteringthematthechild。
“Whosechildishe？“
“Goodness，howugly！“
ForaquarterofanhourJosephstoodstillandborethebruntofmuchteasingintheatelierofthegreatsculptor，Chaudet。Butafterlaughingathimforatime，thepupilswerestruckwithhispersistencyandwiththeexpressionofhisface。Theyaskedhimwhathewanted。Josephansweredthathewishedtoknowhowtodraw；
thereupontheyallencouragedhim。Wonbysuchfriendliness，thechildtoldthemhewasMadameBridau’sson。
“Oh！ifyouareMadameBridau’sson，“theycried，fromallpartsoftheroom，“youwillcertainlybeagreatman。LonglivethesonofMadameBridau！Isyourmotherpretty？Ifyouareasampleofher，shemustbestylish！“
“Ha！youwanttobeanartist？“saidtheeldestpupil，cominguptoJoseph，“butdon’tyouknowthatthatrequirespluck；you’llhavetobearallsortsoftrials，——yes，trials，——enoughtobreakyourlegsandarmsandsoulandbody。Allthefellowsyouseeherehavegonethroughregularordeals。Thatone，forinstance，hewentsevendayswithouteating！Letmesee，now，ifyoucanbeanartist。“
Hetookoneofthechild’sarmsandstretcheditstraightupintheair；thenheplacedtheotherarmasifJosephwereintheactofdeliveringablowwithhisfist。
“Nowthat’swhatwecallthetelegraphtrial，“saidthepupil。“Ifyoucanstandlikethat，withoutloweringorchangingthepositionofyourarmsforaquarterofanhour，thenyou’llhaveprovedyourselfapluckyone。“
“Courage，littleone，courage！“criedalltherest。“Youmustsufferifyouwanttobeanartist。“
Joseph，withthegoodfaithofhisthirteenyears，stoodmotionlessforfiveminutes，allthepupilsgazingsolemnlyathim。
“There！youaremoving，“criedone。
“Steady，steady，confoundyou！“criedanother。
“TheEmperorNapoleonstoodawholemonthasyouseehimthere，“saidathird，pointingtothefinestatuebyChaudet，whichwasintheroom。
Thatstatue，whichrepresentstheEmperorstandingwiththeImperialsceptreinhishand，wastorndownin1814fromthecolumnitsurmountedsowell。
AttheendoftenminutesthesweatstoodindropsonJoseph’sforehead。Atthatmomentabald-headedlittleman，paleandsicklyinappearance，enteredtheatelier，whererespectfulsilencereignedatonce。
“Whatyouareabout，youurchins？“heexclaimed，ashelookedattheyouthfulmartyr。
“Thatisagoodlittlefellow，whoisposing，“saidthetallpupilwhohadplacedJoseph。
“Areyounotashamedtotortureapoorchildinthatway？“saidChaudet，loweringJoseph’sarms。“Howlonghaveyoubeenstandingthere？“heaskedtheboy，givinghimafriendlylittlepatonthecheek。
“Aquarterofanhour。“
“Whatbroughtyouhere？“
“Iwanttobeanartist。“
“Wheredoyoubelong？wheredoyoucomefrom？“
“Frommamma’shouse。“
“Oh！mamma！“criedthepupils。
“Silenceattheeasels！“criedChaudet。“Whoisyourmamma？“
“SheisMadameBridau。Mypapa，whoisdead，wasafriendoftheEmperor；andifyouwillteachmetodraw，theEmperorwillpayallyouaskforit。“
“HisfatherwasheadofadepartmentattheministryoftheInterior，“
exclaimedChaudet，struckbyarecollection。“Soyouwanttobeanartist，atyourage？“
“Yes，monsieur。“