"Which you have entirely disarranged, Daisy," she said as she
moved herself.
"Daisy will acknowledge I had liberty," Mr. De Saussure
repeated.
"Mamma," I said, "don't you think it is growing chill?"
"Row us home, Charles," said my mother. "And, Daisy, don't be
a fool. Mr. De Saussure had liberty, as he says."
"I do not acknowledge it, ma'am."
"You must give her line, Charles," mamma said, half laughing
but vexed. "She is a woman."
"I hope she will grant me forgiveness," he said. "She must
remember, I thought I had liberty."
"I shall not forget," I answered. "I understand, that respect
for me failed before respect for my mother."
"But! -" he began.
"Be quiet, Charles," my mother interrupted him. "Pull us to
shore; and let fits of perverseness alone till they go off.
That is my counsel to you."
And the remainder of our little voyage was finished in
profound silence. I knew mamma was terribly vexed, but at the
same time I was secretly overjoyed; for I saw that she yielded
to me, and I knew that I should have no more trouble with Mr.
De Saussure.
I did not. He lingered about for a few days longer, in moody
style, and then went away and I saw him no more. During those
days I had nothing to do with him. But my mother had almost as
little to do with me. She was greatly offended; and also, I
saw, very much surprised. The woman Daisy could not be quite
the ductile thing the child Daisy had been. I took refuge with
papa whenever I could.
"What is all this about De Saussure and Marshall?" he asked
one day.
"They have both gone home."
"I know they have; but what sent them home?"
"Mamma has been trying to make them go, this long while, you
know, papa. She wanted them to go and join Beauregard."
"And will they? Is that what they are gone for?"
"I do not know if they will, papa. I suppose Mr. De Saussure
will."
"And not Marshall?"
"I do not know about him."
"What did you do, Daisy?"
"Papa - you know I do not like the war."
"How about liking the gentlemen?"
"I am glad they are gone."
"Well, so am I," papa answered; "but what had you to do with
sending them home?"
"Nothing, papa, - only that I unfortunately did not want them
to stay."
"And you could not offer them any reward for going?"
"Papa, a man who would do such a thing for reward, would not
be a man."
"I think so too, Daisy. Your mother somehow takes a different
view."
"She cares only for the soldier, papa; not for the man."
Papa was silent and thoughtful.
There were no other intimate friends about us in Geneva; and
our life became, I must confess, less varied and pleasant
after the young men had gone. At first I felt only the relief;
then the dulness began to creep in. Papa led the life of an
invalid, or of one who had been an invalid; not an active life
in any way; I thought, not active enough for his good. Some
hours I got of reading with him; reading to him, and talking
of what we read; they did my father good, and me too; but they
were few, and often cut short. As soon as mamma joined us, our
books had to be laid aside. They bored her, she said, or
hindered her own reading; and she and papa played draughts and
chess and piquet. Mamma was not in a bored state at other
times; for she was busy with letters and plans and
arrangements, always in a leisurely way, but yet busy. It was
a sort of business with which I had no sympathy, and which
therefore left me out. The cause of the South was not my
cause; and the discussion of toilettes, fashions, costumes and
society matters, was entirely out of my line. In all these,
mamma found her element. Ransom was no resource to anybody;
and of course not to me, with whom, now as ever, he had little
in common. Mamma held me aloof, ever since Mr. De Saussure's
departure; and I only knew indirectly, as it were, that she
was planning a social campaign for me and meditating over
adornments and advantages which should help to make it
triumphant. Life in this way was not altogether enjoyable. The
only conversation which could be said to be general among us,
was on the subject of home affairs in America. That rung in my
ears every day.