principal shrieked, the lady teachers performed a trio ofwitch-screams--the most discordant ever uttered--and my Lady Blunt wouldhave plashed down into the puddle, only, seeing how wet it was, she onlyreeled and clung to me, who felt ready to drop myself, as I leanedagainst the wall half swooning.
Alarmed by the shrieks, Achille came running out, looking, as I thought,very pale.
"Ladies, ladies!" he ejaculated, "_ma foi, qu'est ce que c'est_?"
"Help, help! Monsieur Achille," gasped Mrs Blunt.
He hurried forward, and relieved me of my load.
"Fetch the police," cried Miss Furness.
"_Nein, nein_--it is a mistake," whispered the Fraulein, who had apenchant, I think, for the poor Signor.
"Signor Pazzoletto, it is thou!" exclaimed Achille, with an aspect ofthe most profound amazement as he caught sight of his unfortunatefriend--an aspect which was, indeed, truthful.
For, as he afterwards told me, he had been so drenched in the cistern,and taken up with making his own escape, that he had thought no more ofthe poor Signor; while, being a wet morning, he had not sought hislodging--which was some distance from the town--before coming, though hewas somewhat anxious to consult him upon the previous night's alarm, andhardly dared to show himself. So--
"Signor Pazzoletto, it is thou!" he exclaimed, regularly taken aback, asthe sailors say.
"_Altro! altro_!" ejaculated the poor man, who sadly wanted to make hisescape, but could see no better chance now than there had been all thenight.
For the passage was blocked, while in the hall were collected togetherall the pupils and the servants--that gawky James coming back andtowering above all, like a horrible lamp-post in a crowd.
"My vinaigrette," murmured Madame Blunt.
When if that dreadful Achille did not place another arm around her; andthat nasty old thing liked it, I could see, far more than Miss Furnessdid, and hung upon him horribly, pretending to faint; when I could havegiven anything to have snatched her away.
"_Pauvre chere dame_" murmured Achille, giving me at the same moment acomical look out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh! Monsieur Achille," said Mrs Blunt, feebly, "oh, help! Send awaythat wretch. _Otez moi cet homme la_."
"_Aha! yais! mais oui_!" exclaimed Achille--the base deceiver, to playsuch a part!--"Sare, you are not business here. Madame dismiss. Takeaway yourself off. Cut yourself! Go!"
I give this just as Achille spoke it; for I cannot but feel angry at thedeceitful part he had played.
The Signor looked at Achille, and gave him a diabolical grin--just as ifhe would have liked to stiletto him upon the spot, with one of thepieces of broken glass. Then he looked at me, bestowing upon me ameaning glance, as he made a rush past us all, and escaped by the frontdoor; but not without splashing right through the puddle, and sendingthe water all over the Fraulein, so that she exclaimed most indignantly,until the front door closed with a heavy bang.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
MEMORY THE THIRTEENTH--SO VERY WICKED.
It was such a relief to know that the Signor was gone, and that, too,without betraying any one. I could see, too, that Achille revived, nowthat he felt that he was safe for the present, and redoubled hisattentions to Mrs Blunt. I declare I believe he would have stood thereholding her for an hour, and she letting him, if Miss Furness had notvery officiously lent her aid as well; when the lady principal grewbetter at once, and allowed herself to be assisted into thebreakfast-room, where, after much pressing, she consented to partake ofa glass of sherry.
"Oh, Monsieur Achille," she gasped, "such a serious matter--reputationof my establishment! You will be silent? Oh, dear me, what a dreadfulupset."
"Silent? Ma foi, oui, Madame Bloont. I will be close as box," and hegave his shoulders a shrug, put his fingers to his lips, half-shut hiseyes, and nodded his head a great many times over.
"I knew you would," murmured Mrs Blunt; "and as to my lady assistants,I feel assured that I can depend upon them."
"Oh, yes," cried all these, in chorus.
"And you had better now return to the classroom, Miss Bozerne," saidMiss Furness, who had seemed in a fidget ever since I had followed theminto the place.
"Ah, yes--please leave us now, Miss Bozerne," said Mrs Blunt. "Ofcourse we can depend upon you, my child?"
I promised all they wished, and was going across the hall, when I metJames, with a piece of paper in his hand.
"Please, miss, where's Monser Tirrel?--a boy just brought this for him."
"I'll take it in to him," I said, with the blood seeming to run in atorrent to my heart; and there I stood, with the piece of a leaf of apocket-book in my hand. It was not doubled up, and as I glanced downupon it I could see that it was scribbled over, evidently hastily, inpencil. I was about to carry it into the breakfast-room, when a wordcaught my eye; and telling myself it was not dishonourable, and that Ihad some right to know the secrets of Achille, I felt that I must readit through.
"He says that I am his own, so that I have a right to see hiscorrespondence," I said to myself, trying to find an excuse for thedeceitful act; and then trembling all over, I read, hastily scrawled--
"Monsieur,--Vous m'avez insulte affreusement. Si vous n'etes pas poltrone, vous serez, sans ami, dans les prairies au moulin a une heure.
"Giulio Pazzoletto."
"Oh, horror!" I ejaculated, "it is a challenge; and if I give it tohim, that horrid Italian will shoot or stab to death my poor Achille!What shall I do--what shall I do?"
There I stood, racked with anguish, till I heard footsteps approaching,when I fled into the schoolroom, where there was such a noise, and allthe pupils flocked round me directly, to ask no end of questions; but Iwas so agitated that I could not speak. However, the first thing I didwas to spitefully bite the wicked, murderous note into fragments, andscatter them about the place; and then, recalling Mrs Blunt's lastwords, I was so retentive of the information the girls were all eager toacquire, that they one and all sided against me, and said I was "aproud, stuck-up, deceitful crocodile."
"I don't care, children," I said, haughtily--for I was more at ease nowthat I knew he would not get the note--"I don't care, children, MrsBlunt said that I was not to talk about it."
"Children, indeed!" exclaimed little pert Celia Blang--"why, that's thevery thing that would make you tell us all! 'Tisn't that: it's becauseyou are so stuck-up, you and Clara Fitzy; but she's shut up now, and isgoing to be sent away, and a good thing too; and now you'll only havePatty Fatty to talk to, and I hope you'll like it."
"Hold your tongue, you pert, ill-natured thing," I said; "I don'tbelieve that she will be sent away."
"She will, though," said Celia; "you see if she isn't. But we don'twant you to tell us anything--we know all about it, don't we, girls?"
"Know all about what?" I said, very coolly and contemptuously--for theyall seemed quite girlish and childish to me, now that I was therepository of all that secrecy.
"Why all about _it_" said Celia--"about Ann, and some one at the window.Molly told me, and ever so much more that she heard from Ann before shewent; and Ann was going to tell her something about some one in thegarden--Clara Fitzy, or some one else--only she had not time before theybundled her off. But, there: I sha'n't tell you any more."
My ears tingled, as they say, when I heard that latter part about thegarden. What an escape it seemed, to be sure! But I passed it all off,and took not a mite of notice; and just then, who should come in butMiss Furness, as I heard a well-known step go crunching along thegravel. Then it was lessons, lessons, till dinner-time; and lessons,lessons, till tea-time; and then lessons again, for the weather was toowet for a walk.
I only saw Clara of a night after that, and, poor thing, she was keptupon prison fare; for a letter came down from Lady Fitzacre, saying thatshe was too ill to travel at present, and that she left the punishmentof the foolish, disobedient child entirely in the hands of Mrs Blunt.So there wasn't a word said more about expelling her, for Mrs B. wa
stoo fond of the high terms and extras she was able to charge for parlourboarders. But they kept the poor thing a close prisoner upstairs for aweek; and, to make her position more bearable, I bought her a cheapedition of "Moths," and smuggled it up. Then I managed "In Maremma;"and whenever I went out, and could get to the pastrycook's, I filled mypockets full of queen cakes, and sausage rolls, and raspberry jam tarts,and got the inside of my pocket of my silk dress in such a sticky mess,that I declare every time I put my hand in, it made me think of the poorSignor.
Of course, I told Clara everything that happened downstairs as soon asPatty was asleep, though she frightened
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