He begged me to call him ` Varjo , ' as his mother did . He constituted himself my escort , errand-boy , French teacher , and private musician , making those weeks indefinitely pleasant by his winning ways , his charming little confidences , and faithful friendship . We had much fun over our lessons , for I helped him about his English . With a great interest in free America , and an intense longing to hear about our war , the barrier of an unknown tongue did not long stand between us . Beginning with my bad French and his broken English , we got on capitally ; but he outdid me entirely , making astonishing progress , though he often slapped his forehead with the despairing exclamation , -- ' I am imbecile ! I never can will shall to have learn this beast of English ! ' But he did , and in a month had added a new language to the five he already possessed . His music was the delight of the house ; and he often gave us little concerts with the help of Madame Teiblin , a German St. Cecilia , with a cropped head and a gentlemanly sack , cravat , and collar . Both were enthusiasts , and the longer they played the more inspired they got . The piano vibrated , the stools creaked , the candles danced in their sockets , and every one sat mute while the four white hands chased one another up and down the keys , and the two fine faces beamed with such ecstasy that we almost expected to see instrument and performers disappear in a musical whirlwind . Lake Leman will never seem so lovely again as when Laddie and I roamed about its shores , floated on its bosom , or laid splendid plans for the future in the sunny garden of the old chateau . I tried it again last year , but the charm was gone , for I missed my boy with his fun , his music , and the frank , fresh affection he gave his ` little mamma , ' as he insisted on calling the lofty spinster who loved him like half-a-dozen grandmothers rolled into one . December roses blossomed in the gardens then , and Laddie never failed to have a posy ready for me at dinner . Few evenings passed without ` confidences ' in my corner of the salon , and I still have a pile of merry little notes which I used to find tucked under my door . He called them chapters of a great history we were to write together , and being a ' polisson ' he illustrated it with droll pictures , and a funny mixture of French and English romance . It was very pleasant , but like all pleasant things in this world of change it soon came to an end . When I left for Italy we jokingly agreed to meet in Paris the next May , but neither really felt that we should ever meet again , for Laddie hardly expected to outlive the winter , and I felt sure I should soon be forgotten . As he kissed my hand there were tears in my boy 's eyes , and a choke in the voice that tried to say cheerfully -- ' Bon voyage , dear and good little mamma . I do not say adieu , but au revoir . ' Then the carriage rolled away , the wistful face vanished , and nothing remained to me but the memory of Laddie , and a little stain on my glove where a drop had fallen .
As I drew near Paris six months later , and found myself wishing that I might meet XXXXX in the great , gay city , and wondering if there was any chance of my doing it , I never dreamed of seeing him so soon ; but , as I made my way among the crowd of passengers that poured through the station , feeling tired , bewildered , and homesick , I suddenly saw a blue and white cap wave wildly in the air , then Laddie 's beaming face appeared , and Laddie 's eager hands grasped mine so cordially that I began to laugh at once , and felt that Paris was almost as good as home .
Cecilia Leman Paris Teiblin Varjo errand-boy evenings month war weeks