His costume of a blue
smock, blue pantaloons, and a blue cap procured for him the name of
_Bleuet_, or, as we should perhaps say, Blueling, if indeed we may coin
for the occasion one of those familiar, affectionate diminutives, so
common in the Italian, rarer in the French, and almost unknown in our
masculine tongue. An only child, and an invalid, poor Bleuet was of
course a spoiled child, his mother's darling and pet. His wishes, his
sick-child's caprices were her law, and she gratified them at the cost
of many a secret privation. She seemed to know--maternal love hath often
the faculty of second-sight--that her poor boy, though only the child of
the humblest parentage, was destined to rise one day far above the
station in which he was born. She attired him better than children of
his class commonly dressed. She polished his manners as much as she
could,--and 'twas much, for women, even of the lowest classes, have
gentle tastes and delicacy. She could not bear to think that her darling
should one day sit cross-legged on the paternal bench, and ply needle
and scissors. She breathed her own aspirations into the boy's ears, and
filled his mind with them.
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