In spite of this vandalism, we assured Ernesto that when we spent a month in Gerona he should have the honour of escorting us, provided it was not school-time. He wished to bind us to a given date, thereby showing a decided talent for business, but we refused to be committed to the inevitable. We left mother and son together, a picture of domestic happiness. As we disappeared under the archway of the hotel, Ernesto held up his catapult in triumph, successfully parrying his mother's attempt to obtain possession of the forbidden weapon. She evidently looked upon it as only one degree below an infernal machine.
Once more up the broad marble staircase. But it was not the ghostly hour, and sighs and rustlings and shadows were in the land of the unseen. Madame in her bureau looked the picture of massive contentment. At this moment she was posting a ledger, and the balance was evidently on the right side.
"As it need be, for they worked hard enough for their living," she assured us. "She couldn't tell how it was; no one would think from her size that she never relaxed in her exertions. Do what she would, she could not get thin. As for her husband, she made him eat all the richest bits at dinner; never allowed him to fast; supplied him with eggs and butter and beer _ad libitum_. No; he was obstinate. He _would_ keep thin. The consequence was they were a ridiculous couple. She was the Duomo at Florence, he was the Campanile. However, they made the best of it. Life was too short to grieve over inevitable troubles. Clearly she was an inevitable. When she was a girl, there were five ladies who might be seen walking out morning, noon, and night, and always together. Go which way you would you were sure to meet them. They knew every one, and five perpetual bows were everlastingly see-sawing like a wound-up machine going through its performance. They were called the Inevitables. No one ever thought of them by any other name. They were quite aware of it and rather liked it. It was something to be in constant evidence. What other five sisters would live together in such harmony? Well, these five ladies were for ever running in her head. For a long time past she had felt like all five ladies rolled into one. She was one great Inevitable. Fate was a little cruel. Her movements might be compared to those of the elephant. As for her husband, he could still run up and down stairs like a lamplighter--almost pass through a keyhole--but it took her five minutes to get up a dozen steps. Soon it would take her ten. And then she wanted pulling up in front and pushing up behind. It was quite a ceremony. She had serious thoughts of having a crane and pulley adjusted to her windows, and of being hoisted up and down, but the question was whether a hempen rope would bear her weight, or anything under a cast-iron chain. Was it true that Queen Victoria was carried wherever she went, because she suffered from rheumatism? Ah! it was a great thing to be a queen. No ledgers to post up; no anxiety as to whether the balance would be on the right side at the end of every month. What a blessing to have a good, solid, comfortable margin at one's bankers to draw upon for contingencies, which was only another word for the unexpected. This year it was painting inside, next year painting outside. If there was no painting, it was chairs, tables or linen. The extras went on for ever and swallowed up all the profits."