Cinderella (Evans)/Chapter 4

by Charles Perrault

CHAPTER IV

The Baroness and her Daughters

Have you ever noticed that there are some people whom you know you are not going to like the first time you set eyes on them? Well, the Baroness was one of those people, and so were the two

sisters— for three more disagreeable-looking persons never walked into a room together.

The Baroness came first, striding along in a proud and haughty manner, and peering through a pair of tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles which she carried at the end of a long handle. She was fat and stumpy, with more than one chin, and she had cross, crafty eyes set very close together over a big hooked nose. The fingers of her hands were covered with flashing rings, among

which, to her horror, Ella recognized one that had belonged to her mother, and she was dressed in a gown of black and yellow like a gipsy at a fair.

Ella rose and dropped a curtsy as her father intro­duced her, while the Baroness stared at her from head to toe through her lorgnette.

“So this is the girl,” she said at last in a harsh voice. “How do you do, miss? I’ve heard of your airs and graces, and the way you have been mollycoddled, and I want you to understand that that sort of thing has come to an end now. You’ve been to school, I believe.”

“Yes,” faltered Ella.

“Don’t they teach you to say madam when you speak to your elders? Who told you to put on that frock?”

“Nobody,” said Ella, whose face was red with shame. “It is my frock which my father gave to me, and I put it on because I like it best of all my frocks.”

“Oh, indeed! Then you may go and take it off as quickly as you like, and put on the plainest one you have. I don’t like little girls who give themselves airs. Why do you not greet your sisters?”

Now this was hardly fair, for poor little Ella had not had time to greet anybody, or to do anything except answer questions, since her new relations had arrived. Nevertheless, she tried to smile and to appear friendly. “How do you do?” she said. “My father told me about you as we were coming home in the carriage. I think you’ve got such pretty names! But I don’t know yet which is Charlotte and which is Euphronia, so I can’t call you by them!”

“Do you hear that, mamma?” cried one of the girls. “She actually came home in one of our carriages! I suppose she considers herself too much of a fine lady to walk.”

The one who spoke was red-haired, and her face was highly rouged and powdered, so Ella judged that it was she who had taken possession of her room. But in spite of her paint and powder nobody could possibly call this girl handsome. To begin with, she squinted so badly that while one eye was looking at Ella, the gaze of the other was fixed on the corner of the room. And, as if this was not enough, she had inherited her mother’s big hooked nose, which made her face look rather like that of a horse, although no horse could possibly have worn so bad-tempered and discontented an expression.

The other sister, who, as Ella afterwards learned, was the one named Charlotte, was no beauty either, but she was considerably more attractive than Euphronia, though she had a little red nose that was turned up in the most comical way. Nevertheless, Ella thought that there was just a trace of kindliness in Charlotte’s look, so she ventured to appeal to her.

“I am sorry if I did wrong by coming home in the carriage,” she said, “but my father came to the school for me. Please do not be angry, and I will try to please you in future.”

“Come, come,” said the Baron, nervously rubbing his hands. “Do not let us begin to quarrel about such a little thing. The child is really not at fault.”

“Hold your tongue, Charles,” snapped his wife. “And please understand that I will not have the creature pam­pered. We shall have her demanding a boudoir next, and a servant to wait on her!”

“But, my dear . . .” stammered the Baron.

“Don’t talk to me,” cried his wife, with an angry stamp of the foot. “We shall see whether or not I am to be mistress in my own house! Euphronia, take this naughty girl up into the garret, and lock her in until she comes to her senses. A few days of solitude and a diet of bread and water will do her all the good in the world.”

“Come along, you stuck-up little thing,” said Euphronia, seizing Ella’s wrist with her large bony hand. “You will have to be taught your proper place.”

And so Ella was dragged away. At the door she turned an appealing glance towards her father, but he was looking at his toes and made no movement to interfere.

The last thing Ella heard as she went up the stairs was the voice of the Baroness storming at her husband. Even when the door of the garret was slammed upon her she could still hear it, deep and booming, like the rumble of distant thunder!