DAILY, as I continued my attendance
at the seminary of Mdlle. Reuter,
did I find fresh occasions to
compare the ideal with the real.
What had I known of female character
previously to my arrival at Brussels?
Precious little. And what was
my notion of it? Something vague,
slight, gauzy, glittering; now
when I came in contact with it
I found it to be a palpable substance
enough; very hard too sometimes,
and often heavy; there was metal
in it,
both lead and iron.
Let the idealists,
the dreamers about earthly
angel and human
flowers, just look here while
I open my portfolio and show
them a sketch or two, pencilled
after nature. I took these sketches
in the second-class schoolroom
of Mdlle. Reuter's establishment,
where about a hundred specimens
of the genus "jeune fille" collected
together, offered a fertile variety
of subject. A miscellaneous assortment
they were, differing both in
caste and country; as I sat on
my estrade and glanced over the
long range of desks, I had under
my eye French, English, Belgians,
Austrians, and Prussians. The
majority belonged to the class
bourgeois; but there were many
countesses, there were the daughters
of two generals and of several
colonels, captains, and government
EMPLOYES; these ladies sat side
by side with young females destined
to be demoiselles de magasins,
and with some Flamandes, genuine
aborigines of the country. In
dress all were nearly similar,
and in manners there was small
difference; exceptions there
were to the general rule, but
the majority gave the tone to
the establishment, and that tone
was rough, boisterous, masked
by a point-blank disregard of
all forbearance towards each
other or their teachers; an eager
pursuit by each individual of
her own interest and convenience;
and a coarse indifference to
the interest and convenience
of every one else. Most of them
could lie with audacity when
it appeared advantageous to do
so. All understood the art of
speaking fair when a point was
to be gained, and could with
consummate skill and at a moment's
notice turn the cold shoulder
the instant civility ceased to
be profitable. Very little open
quarrelling ever took place amongst
them; but backbiting and talebearing
were universal. Close friendships
were forbidden by the rules of
the school, and no one girl seemed
to cultivate more regard for
another than was just necessary
to secure a companion when solitude
would have been irksome. They
were each and all supposed to
have been reared in utter unconsciousness
of vice. The precautions used
to keep them ignorant, if not
innocent, were innumerable. How
was it, then, that scarcely one
of those girls having attained
the age of fourteen could look
a man in the face with modesty
and propriety? An air of bold,
impudent flirtation, or a loose,
silly leer, was sure to answer
the most ordinary glance from
a masculine eye. I know nothing
of the arcana of the Roman Catholic
religion, and I am not a bigot
in matters of theology, but I
suspect the root of this precocious
impurity, so obvious, so general
in Popish countries, is to be
found in the discipline, if not
the doctrines of the Church of
Rome. I record what I have seen:
these girls belonged to what
are called the respectable ranks
of society; they had all been
carefully brought up, yet was
the mass of them mentally depraved.
So much for the general view:
now for one or two selected specimens.
The first picture is a full
length of Aurelia Koslow, a German
fraulein, or rather a half-breed
between German and Russian. She
is eighteen years of age, and
has been sent to Brussels to
finish her education; she is
of middle size, stiffly made,
body long, legs short, bust much
developed but not compactly moulded,
waist disproportionately compressed
by an inhumanly braced corset,
dress carefully arranged, large
feet tortured into small bottines,
head small, hair smoothed, braided,
oiled, and gummed to perfection;
very low forehead, very diminutive
and vindictive grey eyes, somewhat
Tartar features, rather flat
nose, rather high-cheek bones,
yet the ensemble not positively
ugly; tolerably good complexion.
So much for person. As to mind,
deplorably ignorant and ill-informed:
incapable of writing or speaking
correctly even German, her native
tongue, a dunce in French, and
her attempts at learning English
a mere farce, yet she has been
at school twelve years; but as
she invariably gets her exercises,
of every description, done by
a fellow pupil, and reads her
lessons off a book; concealed
in her lap, it is not wonderful
that her progress has been so
snail-like. I do not know what
Aurelia's daily habits of life
are, because I have not the opportunity
of observing her at all times;
but from what I see of the state
of her desk, books, and papers,
I should say she is slovenly
and even dirty; her outward dress,
as I have said, is well attended
to, but in passing behind her
bench, I have remarked that her
neck is gray for want of washing,
and her hair, so glossy with
gum and grease, is not such as
one feels tempted to pass the
hand over, much less to run the
fingers through. Aurelia's conduct
in class, at least when I am
present, is something extraordinary,
considered as an index of girlish
innocence. The moment I enter
the room, she nudges her next
neighbour and indulges in a half-suppressed
laugh. As I take my seat on the
estrade, she fixes her eye on
me; she seems resolved to attract,
and, if possible, monopolize
my notice: to this end she launches
at me all sorts of looks, languishing,
provoking, leering, laughing.
As I am found quite proof against
this sort of artillery--for we
scorn what, unasked, is lavishly
offered --she has recourse to
the expedient of making noises;
sometimes she sighs, sometimes
groans, sometimes utters inarticulate
sounds, for which language has
no name. If, in walking up the
schoolroom, I pass near her,
she puts out her foot that it
may touch mine; if I do not happen
to observe the manoeuvre, and
my boot comes in contact with
her brodequin, she affects to
fall into convulsions of suppressed
laughter; if I notice the snare
and avoid it, she expresses her
mortification in sullen muttering,
where I hear myself abused in
bad French, pronounced with an
intolerable Low German accent.
Not far from Mdlle. Koslow
sits another young lady by name
Adele Dronsart: this is a Belgian,
rather low of stature, in form
heavy, with broad waist, short
neck and limbs, good red and
white complexion, features well
chiselled and regular, well-cut
eyes of a clear brown colour,
light brown hair, good teeth,
age not much above fifteen, but
as full-grown as a stout young
Englishwoman of twenty. This
portrait gives the idea of a
somewhat dumpy but good-looking
damsel, does it not? Well, when
I looked along the row of young
heads, my eye generally stopped
at this of Adele's; her gaze
was ever waiting for mine, and
it frequently succeeded in arresting
it. She was an unnatural-looking
being--so young, fresh, blooming,
yet so Gorgon-like. Suspicion,
sullen ill-temper were on her
forehead, vicious propensities
in her eye, envy and panther-like
deceit about her mouth. In general
she sat very still; her massive
shape looked as if it could not
bend much, nor did her large
head--so broad at the base, so
narrow towards the top--seem
made to turn readily on her short
neck. She had but two varieties
of expression; the prevalent
one a forbidding, dissatisfied
scowl, varied sometimes by a
most pernicious and perfidious
smile. She was shunned by her
fellow-pupils, for, bad as many
of them were, few were as bad
as she.
Aurelia and Adele were in the
first division of the second
class; the second division was
headed by a pensionnaire named
Juanna Trista. This girl was
of mixed Belgian and Spanish
origin; her Flemish mother was
dead, her Catalonian father was
a merchant residing in the ----
Isles, where Juanna had been
born and whence she was sent
to Europe to be educated. I wonder
that any one, looking at that
girl's head and countenance,
would have received her under
their roof. She had precisely
the same shape of skull as Pope
Alexander the Sixth; her organs
of benevolence, veneration, conscientiousness,
adhesiveness, were singularly
small, those of self-esteem,
firmness, destructiveness, combativeness,
preposterously large; her head
sloped up in the penthouse shape,
was contracted about the forehead,
and prominent behind; she had
rather good, though large and
marked features; her temperament
was fibrous and bilious, her
complexion pale and dark, hair
and eyes black, form angular
and rigid but proportionate,
age fifteen.
Juanna was
not very thin, but she had
a gaunt visage, and her "regard" was
fierce and hungry; narrow as
was her brow, it presented space
enough for the legible graving
of two words, Mutiny and Hate;
in some one of her other lineaments
I think the eye--cowardice had
also its distinct cipher. Mdlle.
Trista thought fit to trouble
my first lessons with a coarse
work-day sort of turbulence;
she made noises with her mouth
like a horse, she ejected her
saliva, she uttered brutal expressions;
behind and below her were seated
a band of very vulgar, inferior-looking
Flamandes, including two or three
examples of that deformity of
person and imbecility of intellect
whose frequency in the Low Countries
would seem to furnish proof that
the climate is such as to induce
degeneracy of the human mind
and body; these, I soon found,
were completely under her influence,
and with their aid she got up
and sustained a swinish tumult,
which I was constrained at last
to quell by ordering her and
two of her tools to rise from
their seats, and, having kept
them standing five minutes, turning
them bodily out of the schoolroom:
the accomplices into a large
place adjoining called the grands
salle; the principal into a cabinet,
of which I closed the door and
pocketed the key. This judgment
I executed in the presence of
Mdlle. Reuter, who looked much
aghast at beholding so decided
a proceeding--the most severe
that had ever been ventured on
in her establishment. Her look
of affright I answered with one
of composure, and finally with
a smile, which perhaps flattered,
and certainly soothed her. Juanna
Trista remained in Europe long
enough to repay, by malevolence
and ingratitude, all who had
ever done her a good turn; and
she then went to join her father
in the ---- Isles, exulting in
the thought that she should there
have slaves, whom, as she said,
she could kick and strike at
will.
These three pictures are from
the life. I possess others, as
marked and as little agreeable,
but I will spare my reader the
exhibition of them.
Doubtless it will be thought
that I ought now, by way of contrast,
to show something charming; some
gentle virgin head, circled with
a halo, some sweet personification
of innocence, clasping the dove
of peace to her bosom. No: I
saw nothing of the sort, and
therefore cannot portray it.
The pupil in the school possessing
the happiest disposition was
a young girl from the country,
Louise Path; she was sufficiently
benevolent and obliging, but
not well taught nor well mannered;
moreover, the plague-spot of
dissimulation was in her also;
honour and principle were unknown
to her, she had scarcely heard
their names. The least exceptionable
pupil was the poor little Sylvie
I have mentioned once before.
Sylvie was gentle in manners,
intelligent in mind; she was
even sincere, as far as her religion
would permit her to be so, but
her physical organization was
defective; weak health stunted
her growth and chilled her spirits,
and then, destined as she was
for the cloister, her whole soul
was warped to a conventual bias,
and in the tame, trained subjection
of her manner, one read that
she had already prepared herself
for her future course of life,
by giving up her independence
of thought and action into the
hands of some despotic confessor.
She permitted herself no original
opinion, no preference of companion
or employment; in everything
she was guided by another. With
a pale, passive, automaton air,
she went about all day long doing
what she was bid; never what
she liked, or what, from innate
conviction, she thought it right
to do. The poor little future
religieuse had been early taught
to make the dictates of her own
reason and conscience quite subordinate
to the will of her spiritual
director. She was the model pupil
of Mdlle. Reuter's establishment;
pale, blighted image, where life
lingered feebly, but whence the
soul had been conjured by Romish
wizard-craft!
A few English pupils there
were in this school, and these
might be divided into two classes.
1st. The continental English--the
daughters chiefly of broken adventurers,
whom debt or dishonour had driven
from their own country. These
poor girls had never known the
advantages of settled homes,
decorous example, or honest Protestant
education; resident a few months
now in one Catholic school, now
in another, as their parents
wandered from land to land--from
France to Germany, from Germany
to Belgium --they had picked
up some scanty instruction, many
bad habits, losing every notion
even of the first elements of
religion and morals, and acquiring
an imbecile indifference to every
sentiment that can elevate humanity;
they were distinguishable by
an habitual look of sullen dejection,
the result of crushed self-respect
and constant browbeating from
their Popish fellow-pupils, who
hated them as English, and scorned
them as heretics.
The second class were British
English. Of these I did not encounter
half a dozen during the whole
time of my attendance at the
seminary; their characteristics
were clean but careless dress,
ill-arranged hair (compared with
the tight and trim foreigners),
erect carriage, flexible figures,
white and taper hands, features
more irregular, but also more
intellectual than those of the
Belgians, grave and modest countenances,
a general air of native propriety
and decency; by this last circumstance
alone I could at a glance distinguish
the daughter of Albion and nursling
of Protestantism from the foster-child
of Rome, the PROTEGEE of Jesuistry:
proud, too, was the aspect of
these British girls; at once
envied and ridiculed by their
continental associates, they
warded off insult with austere
civility, and met hate with mute
disdain; they eschewed company-keeping,
and in the midst of numbers seemed
to dwell isolated.
The teachers
presiding over this mixed multitude
were three
in number, all French--their
names Mdlles. Zephyrine, Pelagie,
and Suzette; the two last were
commonplace personages enough;
their look was ordinary, their
manner was ordinary, their temper
was ordinary, their thoughts,
feelings, and views were all
ordinary --were I to write a
chapter on the subject I could
not elucidate it further. Zephyrine
was somewhat more distinguished
in appearance and deportment
than Pelagie and Suzette, but
in character genuine Parisian
coquette, perfidious, mercenary,
and dry-hearted. A fourth maitresse
I sometimes saw who seemed to
come daily to teach needlework,
or netting, or lace-mending,
or some such flimsy art; but
of her I never had more than
a passing glimpse, as she sat
in the CARRE, with her frames
and some dozen of the elder pupils
about her, consequently I had
no opportunity of studying her
character, or even of observing
her person much; the latter,
I remarked, had a very English
air for a maitresse, otherwise
it was not striking; of character
I should think; she possessed
but little, as her pupils seemed
constantly "en revolte" against
her authority. She did not reside
in the house; her name, I think,
was Mdlle. Henri.
Amidst this assemblage of all
that was insignificant and defective,
much that was vicious and repulsive
(by that last epithet many would
have described the two or three
stiff, silent, decently behaved,
ill-dressed British girls), the
sensible, sagacious, affable
directress shone like a steady
star over a marsh full of Jack-o'-lanthorns;
profoundly aware of her superiority,
she derived an inward bliss from
that consciousness which sustained
her under all the care and responsibility
inseparable from her position;
it kept her temper calm, her
brow smooth, her manner tranquil.
She liked--as who would not?--on
entering the school-room, to
feel that her sole presence sufficed
to diffuse that order and quiet
which all the remonstrances,
and even commands, of her underlings
frequently failed to enforce;
she liked to stand in comparison,
or rather--contrast, with those
who surrounded her, and to know
that in personal as well as mental
advantages, she bore away the
undisputed palm of preference--(the
three teachers were all plain.)
Her pupils she managed with such
indulgence and address, taking
always on herself the office
of recompenser and eulogist,
and abandoning to her subalterns
every invidious task of blame
and punishment, that they all
regarded her with deference,
if not with affection; her teachers
did not love her, but they submitted
because they were her inferiors
in everything; the various masters
who attended her school were
each and all in some way or other
under her influence; over one
she had acquired power by her
skilful management of his bad
temper; over another by little
attentions to his petty caprices;
a third she had subdued by flattery;
a fourth--a timid man--she kept
in awe by a sort of austere decision
of mien; me, she still watched,
still tried by the most ingenious
tests--she roved round me, baffled,
yet persevering; I believe she
thought I was like a smooth and
bare precipice, which offered
neither jutting stone nor tree-root,
nor tuft of grass to aid the
climber. Now she flattered with
exquisite tact, now she moralized,
now she tried how far I was accessible
to mercenary motives, then she
disported on the brink of affection--knowing
that some men are won by weakness--anon,
she talked excellent sense, aware
that others have the folly to
admire judgment. I found it at
once pleasant and easy to evade
all these efforts; it was sweet,
when she thought me nearly won,
to turn round and to smile in
her very eyes, half scornfully,
and then to witness her scarcely
veiled, though mute mortification.
Still she persevered, and at
last, I am bound to confess it,
her finger, essaying, proving
every atom of the casket, touched
its secret spring, and for a
moment the lid sprung open; she
laid her hand on the jewel within;
whether she stole and broke it,
or whether the lid shut again
with a snap on her fingers, read
on, and you shall know.
It happened
that I came one day to give
a lesson when I was
indisposed; I had a bad cold
and a cough; two hours' incessant
talking left me very hoarse and
tired; as I quitted the schoolroom,
and was passing along the corridor,
I met Mdlle. Reuter; she remarked,
with an anxious air, that I looked
very pale and tired. "Yes," I
said, "I was fatigued;" and then,
with increased interest, she
rejoined, "You shall not go away
till you have had some refreshment." She
persuaded me to step into the
parlour, and was very kind and
gentle while I stayed. The next
day she was kinder still; she
came herself into the class to
see that the windows were closed,
and that there was no draught;
she exhorted me with friendly
earnestness not to over-exert
myself; when I went away, she
gave me her hand unasked, and
I could not but mark, by a respectful
and gentle pressure, that I was
sensible of the favour, and grateful
for it. My modest demonstration
kindled a little merry smile
on her countenance; I thought
her almost charming. During the
remainder of the evening, my
mind was full of impatience for
the afternoon of the next day
to arrive, that I might see her
again.
I was not disappointed, for
she sat in the class during the
whole of my subsequent lesson,
and often looked at me almost
with affection. At four o'clock
she accompanied me out of the
schoolroom, asking with solicitude
after my health, then scolding
me sweetly because I spoke too
loud and gave myself too much
trouble; I stopped at the glass-door
which led into the garden, to
hear her lecture to the end;
the door was open, it was a very
fine day, and while I listened
to the soothing reprimand, I
looked at the sunshine and flowers,
and felt very happy. The day-scholars
began to pour from the schoolrooms
into the passage.
"Will you go into the garden
a minute or two," asked she, "till
they are gone?"
I descended the steps without
answering, but I looked back
as much as to say--
"You will come
with me?"
In another minute I and the
directress were walking side
by side down the alley bordered
with fruit-trees, whose white
blossoms were then in full blow
as well as their tender green
leaves. The sky was blue, the
air still, the May afternoon
was full of brightness and fragrance.
Released from the stifling class,
surrounded with flowers and foliage,
with a pleasing, smiling, affable
woman at my side--how did I feel?
Why, very enviably. It seemed
as if the romantic visions my
imagination had suggested of
this garden, while it was yet
hidden from me by the jealous
boards, were more than realized;
and, when a turn in the alley
shut out the view of the house,
and some tall shrubs excluded
M. Pelet's mansion, and screened
us momentarily from the other
houses, rising amphitheatre-like
round this green spot, I gave
my arm to Mdlle. Reuter, and
led her to a garden-chair, nestled
under some lilacs near. She sat
down; I took my place at her
side. She went on talking to
me with that ease which communicates
ease, and, as I listened, a revelation
dawned in my mind that I was
on the brink of falling in love.
The dinner-bell rang, both at
her house and M. Pelet's; we
were obliged to part; I detained
her a moment as she was moving
away.
"I want something," said
I.
"What?" asked
Zoraide naively.
"Only a flower."
"Gather it
then--or two, or twenty, if
you like."
"No--one will
do-but you must gather it,
and give it to me."
"What a caprice!" she
exclaimed, but she raised herself
on her
tip-toes, and, plucking a beautiful
branch of lilac, offered it to
me with grace. I took it, and
went away, satisfied for the
present, and hopeful for the
future.
Certainly that
May day was a lovely one, and
it closed in
moonlight night of summer warmth
and serenity. I remember this
well; for, having sat up late
that evening, correcting devoirs,
and feeling weary and a little
oppressed with the closeness
of my small room, I opened the
often-mentioned boarded window,
whose boards, however, I had
persuaded old Madame Pelet to
have removed since I had filled
the post of professor in the
pensionnat de demoiselles, as,
from that time, it was no longer "inconvenient" for
me to overlook my own pupils
at their sports. I sat down in
the window-seat, rested my arm
on the sill, and leaned out:
above me was the clear-obscure
of a cloudless night sky --splendid
moonlight subdued the tremulous
sparkle of the stars --below
lay the garden, varied with silvery
lustre and deep shade, and all
fresh with dew--a grateful perfume
exhaled from the closed blossoms
of the fruit-trees--not a leaf
stirred, the night was breezeless.
My window looked directly down
upon a certain walk of Mdlle.
Reuter's garden, called "l'allee
defendue," so named because the
pupils were forbidden to enter
it on account of its proximity
to the boys' school. It was here
that the lilacs and laburnums
grew especially thick; this was
the most sheltered nook in the
enclosure, its shrubs screened
the garden-chair where that afternoon
I had sat with the young directress.
I need not say that my thoughts
were chiefly with her as I leaned
from the lattice, and let my;
eye roam, now over the walks
and borders of the garden, now
along the many-windowed front
of the house which rose white
beyond the masses of foliage.
I wondered in what part of the
building was situated her apartment;
and a single light, shining through
the persiennes of one croisee,
seemed to direct me to it.
"She watches late," thought
I, "for it must be now near midnight.
She is a fascinating little woman," I
continued in voiceless soliloquy; "her
image forms a pleasant picture
in memory; I know she is not
what the world calls pretty--no
matter, there is harmony in her
aspect, and I like it; her brown
hair, her blue eye, the freshness
of her cheek, the whiteness of
her neck, all suit my taste.
Then I respect her talent; the
idea of marrying a doll or a
fool was always abhorrent to
me: I know that a pretty doll,
a fair fool, might do well enough
for the honeymoon; but when passion
cooled, how dreadful to find
a lump of wax and wood laid in
my bosom, a half idiot clasped
in my arms, and to remember that
I had made of this my equal--nay,
my idol--to know that I must
pass the rest of my dreary life
with a creature incapable of
understanding what I said, of
appreciating what I thought,
or of sympathizing with what
I felt! "Now, Zoraide Reuter," thought
I, "has tact, CARACTERE, judgment,
discretion; has she heart? What
a good, simple little smile played
about her lips when she gave
me the branch of lilacs! I have
thought her crafty, dissembling,
interested sometimes, it is true;
but may not much that looks like
cunning and dissimulation in
her conduct be only the efforts
made by a bland temper to traverse
quietly perplexing difficulties?
And as to interest, she wishes
to make her way in the world,
no doubt, and who can blame her?
Even if she be truly deficient
in sound principle, is it not
rather her misfortune than her
fault? She has been brought up
a Catholic: had she been born
an Englishwoman, and reared a
Protestant, might she not have
added straight integrity to all
her other excellences? Supposing
she were to marry an English
and Protestant husband, would
she not, rational, sensible as
she is, quickly acknowledge the
superiority of right over expediency,
honesty over policy? It would
be worth a man's while to try
the experiment; to-morrow I will
renew my observations. She knows
that I watch her: how calm she
is under scrutiny! it seems rather
to gratify than annoy her." Here
a strain of music stole in upon
my monologue, and suspended it;
it was a bugle, very skilfully
played, in the neighbourhood
of the park, I thought, or on
the Place Royale. So sweet were
the tones, so subduing their
effect at that hour, in the midst
of silence and under the quiet
reign of moonlight, I ceased
to think, that I might listen
more intently. The strain retreated,
its sound waxed fainter and was
soon gone; my ear prepared to
repose on the absolute hush of
midnight once more. No. What
murmur was that which, low, and
yet near and approaching nearer,
frustrated the expectation of
total silence? It was some one
conversing--yes, evidently, an
audible, though subdued voice
spoke in the garden immediately
below me. Another answered; the
first voice was that of a man,
the second that of a woman; and
a man and a woman I saw coming
slowly down the alley. Their
forms were at first in shade,
I could but discern a dusk outline
of each, but a ray of moonlight
met them at the termination of
the walk, when they were under
my very nose, and revealed very
plainly, very unequivocally,
Mdlle. Zoraide Reuter, arm-in-arm,
or hand-in-hand (I forget which)
with my principal, confidant,
and counsellor, M. Francois Pelet.
And M. Pelet was saying--
"A quand donc
le jour des noces, ma bien-aimee?"
And Mdlle. Reuter answered--
"Mais, Francois,
tu sais bien qu'il me serait
impossible de
me marier avant les vacances."
"June, July, August, a whole
quarter!" exclaimed the director. "How
can I wait so long?--I who am
ready, even now, to expire at
your feet with impatience!"
"Ah! if you
die, the whole affair will
be settled without
any trouble about notaries and
contracts; I shall only have
to order a slight mourning dress,
which will be much sooner prepared
than the nuptial trousseau."
"Cruel Zoraide!
you laugh at the distress of
one who loves
you so devotedly as I do: my
torment is your sport; you scruple
not to stretch my soul on the
rack of jealousy; for, deny it
as you will, I am certain you
have cast encouraging glances
on that school-boy, Crimsworth;
he has presumed to fall in love,
which he dared not have done
unless you had given him room
to hope."
"What do you
say, Francois? Do you say Crimsworth
is in love
with me?"
"Over head
and ears."
"Has he told
you so?"
"No--but I see it in his face:
he blushes whenever your name
is mentioned." A little laugh
of exulting coquetry announced
Mdlle. Reuter's gratification
at this piece of intelligence
(which was a lie, by-the-by--I
had never been so far gone as
that, after all). M. Pelet proceeded
to ask what she intended to do
with me, intimating pretty plainly,
and not very gallantly, that
it was nonsense for her to think
of taking such a "blanc-bec" as
a husband, since she must be
at least ten years older than
I (was she then thirty-two? I
should not have thought it).
I heard her disclaim any intentions
on the subject--the director,
however, still pressed her to
give a definite answer.
"Francois," said she, "you
are jealous," and still she laughed;
then, as if suddenly recollecting
that this coquetry was not consistent
with the character for modest
dignity she wished to establish,
she proceeded, in a demure voice: "Truly,
my dear Francois, I will not
deny that this young Englishman
may have made some attempts to
ingratiate himself with me; but,
so far from giving him any encouragement,
I have always treated him with
as much reserve as it was possible
to combine with civility; affianced
as I am to you, I would give
no man false hopes; believe me,
dear friend." Still Pelet uttered
murmurs of distrust--so I judged,
at least, from her reply.
"What folly!
How could I prefer an unknown
foreigner to you?
And then--not to flatter your
vanity--Crimsworth could not
bear comparison with you either
physically or mentally; he is
not a handsome man at all; some
may call him gentleman-like and
intelligent-looking, but for
my part--"
The rest of the sentence was
lost in the distance, as the
pair, rising from the chair in
which they had been seated, moved
away. I waited their return,
but soon the opening and shutting
of a door informed me that they
had re-entered the house; I listened
a little longer, all was perfectly
still; I listened more than an
hour--at last I heard M. Pelet
come in and ascend to his chamber.
Glancing once more towards the
long front of the garden-house,
I perceived that its solitary
light was at length extinguished;
so, for a time, was my faith
is love and friendship. I went
to bed, but something feverish
and fiery had got into my veins
which prevented me from sleeping
much that night.
|