The du Mauriers by Daphne du Maurier & Michael Holroyd

Author:Daphne du Maurier & Michael Holroyd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography / Entertainment & Performing Art, Biography & Autobiography / Historical, Biography & Autobiography / Literary, Biography & Autobiography / Personal Memoirs, Biography & Autobiography / Women, Biography & Autobiography / Rich & Famous
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2013-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

The ceremony the following day passed off without any unfortunate incident, and, thank heaven, George restrained his mother from making a speech.

The soldier looked handsome and dignified as he stood by the altar steps, even if he did seem every minute of his fifty-five years, and the blushing Georgina was of course a poem. Ellen did not take much to her family—very middle-class and rather mean, giving nothing in the way of a present, and according to George his wife’s allowance would be meagre. Ellen suspected that altogether things would not be so easy for them, especially if Georgina was as extravagant over her dresses as she appeared to be.

She returned to Paris in great ill-humour—she scarcely spoke to the unfortunate Isabella, whose eyes had been opened to a new and rather fascinating world—only to be met by a white-faced, trembling Kicky, who told her in despairing tones that he had been ‘plucked’ at the Sorbonne, having failed for his bachot in the written Latin version.

At first his mother refused to believe him. Kicky, her paragon, her darling, her brilliant boy, who had learnt his early lessons at her knee and had shown such promise ever since—it was impossible! What a disgrace! And one of his friends, a dull creature without half Kicky’s talent, had actually passed with honours. She took a fiacre and went round to the pension to question Monsieur Froussard, in case there had been some mistake made over the marks, but he assured her, almost as disappointed as herself, that the news was true, and du Maurier Un, one of his pet pupils, had proved himself a failure after all.

‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ exclaimed Ellen after dinner, when she sat alone with Kicky, who was gazing miserably at the floor, in the little salon in the rue du Bac; ‘after all the encouragement you have had, both from papa and myself, and no expense spared over your education, to waste your gifts in this way! I insist that your failure is due to idleness and nothing else. The examination was not difficult. It is not only carelessness, it is gross ingratitude. Who is going to employ you now, without a degree? What sort of position do you expect to take up in the scientific world if you cannot pass your baccalauréat? I dare say you think it all very amusing.’

‘Oh, mamma, how can you say that?’ cried poor Kicky. ‘I feel like throwing myself into the Seine. It would be a good riddance.’

‘Yes, and add to the disgrace. A very fine idea. The trouble is, your papa and I have been too lenient with you from the first. It is the same with Gyggy and Isabella. You are all three of you selfish and inconsiderate, and have never shown the faintest sign of gratitude for all that has been done for you.’

‘Dear mamma, I am grateful. Indeed I am. I don’t know what I should do without you. I owe everything to you.

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