The Short Reign of Pippin IV Read Online Free Page A

many people to ask for advice but very few who wanted it and none who followed it. However, I will advise you.”
    â€œPlease do,” said Marie distantly.
    â€œIn my profession, Marie, I have had contacts with many men. I think I am in a position to make some generalities about them. First, they are like children, sometimes spoiled children.”
    â€œNow there I agree with you.”
    â€œThe ones who really truly grow up, Marie, are no good because men are either children or old—there is nothing in between. But in their childlike unreason and irresponsibility there is sometimes greatness. Please understand that I know most women are more intelligent, but women grow up, women face realities—and women are very rarely great. One of the few regrets I have in my present profession is the lack of male nonsense. It at least makes for contrast,” said Sister Hyacinthe.
    â€œHe discovered a comet,” said Marie. “The Academy commended him. But this new camera business—that goes too far.”
    â€œAgain I ask—do you want my advice?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œThen advise him to buy the camera—insist on it.”
    â€œBut I have already taken my stand. I would lose his respect.”
    â€œOn the contrary,” said Sister Hyacinthe, “if you should advise the expenditure, even suggest a greater one, you might find a reluctance on his part to spend the money. He might then have to inspect realities instead of simply opposing you. They are very curious creatures, men.”
    â€œI’ve brought you some handkerchiefs,” said Marie.
    â€œOh, how beautiful! Marie, there is genius in your fingers. How do your eyes permit this tiny embroidery?”
    â€œMy eyes have always been good,” said Marie.
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    When Madame returned to Number One Avenue de Marigny she found the double doors of the salon open and her husband busy with small shining tools at his telescope.
    â€œI have been thinking,” she said. “It occurs to me that you should buy the camera.”
    â€œEh?” he said.
    â€œWhy, it might mean your election to the Academy.”
    â€œYou are kind,” said her husband. “But I too have been thinking. First things must come first. No, I will get along with what I have.”
    â€œI implore you.”
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œI command it.”
    â€œMy dear, let us not be confused about who is the head of this house. Do not let us, like the Americans, hear the hens crowing.”
    â€œForgive me,” said Marie.
    â€œIt is nothing, Madame. And now I must prepare for the night. The meteor shower continues, my dear. The stars have no interest in our problems.”
    From the floor above came a metallic crash. M. Héristal looked up apprehensively. “I didn’t know Clotilde was in.”
    â€œThe copper table in the hallway,” said Madame. “It leaps out at her. I must put it somewhere else.”
    â€œPlease don’t allow her on the terrace, Marie,” he said. “My telescope might leap at her.”
    Clotilde sauntered down the stairs, her dress a little tight over her growing inches. A sullen-looking little fur, savagely biting its own tail, hung limply from her shoulders.
    â€œYou are going out, my dear?” Madame asked.
    â€œOh, yes, Maman. I am having a screen test.”
    â€œNot another one!”
    â€œOne does as one’s director suggests,” said Clotilde.
    M’sieur moved protectively in front of his telescope as his daughter glided through the double doors and tripped slightly on the doorstep.
    â€œYou have then a director?” he asked.
    â€œThey are casting for the novel The Ragamuffin Princess. You see, there’s an orphaned girl and—”
    â€œAnd she finds out she is a princess. It is an American novel.”
    â€œYou have read it?”
    â€œNo, my dear, but I know it.”
    â€œHow do you know it is