CHAPTER XI.
I HAD indeed had a very long talk with the crafty little politician, andon regaining my quarters, I found that dinner was half over. To be lateat meals was against a standing rule of the establishment, and had itbeen one of the Flemish ushers who thus entered after the removal of thesoup and the commencement of the first course, M. Pelet would probablyhave greeted him with a public rebuke, and would certainly have mulctedhim both of soup and fish; as it was, that polite though partialgentleman only shook his head, and as I took my place, unrolled mynapkin, and said my heretical grace to myself, he civilly despatched aservant to the kitchen, to bring me a plate of "puree aux carottes"(for this was a maigre-day), and before sending away the first course,reserved for me a portion of the stock-fish of which it consisted.Dinner being over, the boys rushed out for their evening play; Kint andVandam (the two ushers) of course followed them. Poor fellows! if theyhad not looked so very heavy, so very soulless, so very indifferent toall things in heaven above or in the earth beneath, I could have pitiedthem greatly for the obligation they were under to trail after thoserough lads everywhere and at all times; even as it was, I felt disposedto scout myself as a privileged prig when I turned to ascend to mychamber, sure to find there, if not enjoyment, at least liberty; butthis evening (as had often happened before) I was to be still fartherdistinguished.
"Eh bien, mauvais sujet!" said the voice of M. Pelet behind me, as Iset my foot on the first step of the stair, "ou allez-vous? Venez a lasalle-a-manger, que je vous gronde un peu."
"I beg pardon, monsieur," said I, as I followed him to his privatesitting-room, "for having returned so late--it was not my fault."
"That is just what I want to know," rejoined M. Pelet, as he ushered meinto the comfortable parlour with a good wood-fire--for the stove hadnow been removed for the season. Having rung the bell he ordered "Coffeefor two," and presently he and I were seated, almost in English comfort,one on each side of the hearth, a little round table between us, witha coffee-pot, a sugar-basin, and two large white china cups. WhileM. Pelet employed himself in choosing a cigar from a box, my thoughtsreverted to the two outcast ushers, whose voices I could hear even nowcrying hoarsely for order in the playground.
"C'est une grande responsabilite, que la surveillance," observed I.
"Plait-il?" dit M. Pelet.
I remarked that I thought Messieurs Vandam and Kint must sometimes be alittle fatigued with their labours.
"Des betes de somme,--des betes de somme," murmured scornfully thedirector. Meantime I offered him his cup of coffee.
"Servez-vous mon garcon," said he blandly, when I had put a couple ofhuge lumps of continental sugar into his cup. "And now tell me why youstayed so long at Mdlle. Reuter's. I know that lessons conclude, in herestablishment as in mine, at four o'clock, and when you returned it waspast five."
"Mdlle. wished to speak with me, monsieur."
"Indeed! on what subject? if one may ask."
"Mademoiselle talked about nothing, monsieur."
"A fertile topic! and did she discourse thereon in the schoolroom,before the pupils?"
"No; like you, monsieur, she asked me to walk into her parlour."
"And Madame Reuter--the old duenna--my mother's gossip, was there, ofcourse?"
"No, monsieur; I had the honour of being quite alone with mademoiselle."
"C'est joli--cela," observed M. Pelet, and he smiled and looked into thefire.
"Honi soit qui mal y pense," murmured I, significantly.
"Je connais un peu ma petite voisine--voyez-vous."
"In that case, monsieur will be able to aid me in finding out what wasmademoiselle's reason for making me sit before her sofa one mortal hour,listening to the most copious and fluent dissertation on the merestfrivolities."
"She was sounding your character."
"I thought so, monsieur."
"Did she find out your weak point?"
"What is my weak point?"
"Why, the sentimental. Any woman sinking her shaft deep enough, willat last reach a fathomless spring of sensibility in thy breast,Crimsworth."
I felt the blood stir about my heart and rise warm to my cheek.
"Some women might, monsieur."
"Is Mdlle. Reuter of the number? Come, speak frankly, mon fils; elle estencore jeune, plus agee que toi peut-etre, mais juste assey pour unirla tendresse d'une petite maman a l'amour d'une epouse devouee; n'est-cepas que cela t'irait superieurement?"
"No, monsieur; I should like my wife to be my wife, and not half mymother."
"She is then a little too old for you?"
"No, monsieur, not a day too old if she suited me in other things."
"In what does she not suit you, William? She is personally agreeable, isshe not?"
"Very; her hair and complexion are just what I admire; and her turn ofform, though quite Belgian, is full of grace."
"Bravo! and her face? her features? How do you like them?"
"A little harsh, especially her mouth."
"Ah, yes! her mouth," said M. Pelet, and he chuckled inwardly. "There ischaracter about her mouth--firmness--but she has a very pleasant smile;don't you think so?"
"Rather crafty."
"True, but that expression of craft is owing to her eyebrows; have youremarked her eyebrows?"
I answered that I had not.
"You have not seen her looking down then?" said he.
"No."
"It is a treat, notwithstanding. Observe her when she has some knitting,or some other woman's work in hand, and sits the image of peace, calmlyintent on her needles and her silk, some discussion meantime going onaround her, in the course of which peculiarities of character are beingdeveloped, or important interests canvassed; she takes no part in it;her humble, feminine mind is wholly with her knitting; none of herfeatures move; she neither presumes to smile approval, nor frowndisapprobation her little hands assiduously ply their unpretendingtask; if she can only get this purse finished, or this bonnet-greccompleted, it is enough for her. If gentlemen approach her chair, adeeper quiescence, a meeker modesty settles on her features, and clothesher general mien; observe then her eyebrows, et dites-moi s'il n'y a pasdu chat dans l'un et du renard dans l'autre."
"I will take careful notice the first opportunity," said I.
"And then," continued M. Pelet, "the eyelid will flicker, thelight-coloured lashes be lifted a second, and a blue eye, glancing outfrom under the screen, will take its brief, sly, searching survey, andretreat again."
I smiled, and so did Pelet, and after a few minutes' silence, I asked:
"Will she ever marry, do you think?"
"Marry! Will birds pair? Of course it is both her intention andresolution to marry when she finds a suitable match, and no one isbetter aware than herself of the sort of impression she is capableof producing; no one likes better to captivate in a quiet way. I ammistaken if she will not yet leave the print of her stealing steps onthy heart, Crimsworth."
"Of her steps? Confound it, no! My heart is not a plank to be walkedon."
"But the soft touch of a patte de velours will do it no harm."
"She offers me no patte de velours; she is all form and reserve withme."
"That to begin with; let respect be the foundation, affection the firstfloor, love the superstructure; Mdlle. Reuter is a skilful architect."
"And interest, M. Pelet--interest. Will not mademoiselle consider thatpoint?"
"Yes, yes, no doubt; it will be the cement between every stone. And nowwe have discussed the directress, what of the pupils? N'y a-t-il pas debelles etudes parmi ces jeunes tetes?"
"Studies of character? Yes; curious ones, at least, I imagine; but onecannot divine much from a first interview."
"Ah, you affect discretion but tell me now, were you not a littleabashed before these blooming young creatures?"
"At first, yes; but I rallied and got through with all due sang-froid."
"I don't believe you."
"It is true, notwithstanding.
At first I thought them angels, but theydid not leave me long under that delusion three of the eldest andhandsomest undertook the task of setting me right, and they managedso cleverly that in five minutes I knew them, at least, for what theywere--three arrant coquettes."
"Je les connais!" exclaimed M. Pelet. "Elles sont toujours au premierrang a l'eglise et a la promenade; une blonde superbe, une jolieespiegle, une belle brune."
"Exactly."
"Lovely creatures all of them--heads for artists; what a group theywould make, taken together! Eulalie (I know their names), with hersmooth braided hair and calm ivory brow. Hortense, with her rich chesnutlocks so luxuriantly knotted, plaited, twisted, as if she did not knowhow to dispose of all their abundance, with her vermilion lips, damaskcheek, and roguish laughing eye. And Caroline de Blemont! Ah, there isbeauty! beauty in perfection. What a cloud of sable curls about the faceof a houri! What fascinating lips! What glorious black eyes! Your Byronwould have worshipped her, and you--you cold, frigid islander!--youplayed the austere, the insensible in the presence of an Aphrodite soexquisite?"
I might have laughed at the director's enthusiasm had I believedit real, but there was something in his tone which indicated got-upraptures. I felt he was only affecting fervour in order to put me off myguard, to induce me to come out in return, so I scarcely even smiled. Hewent on:
"Confess, William, do not the mere good looks of Zoraide Reuter appeardowdyish and commonplace compared with the splendid charms of some ofher pupils?"
The question discomposed me, but I now felt plainly that my principalwas endeavouring (for reasons best known to himself--at that time Icould not fathom them) to excite ideas and wishes in my mind alien towhat was right and honourable. The iniquity of the instigation provedits antidote, and when he further added:--
"Each of those three beautiful girls will have a handsome fortune; andwith a little address, a gentlemanlike, intelligent young fellow likeyou might make himself master of the hand, heart, and purse of any oneof the trio."
I replied by a look and an interrogative "Monsieur?" which startled him.
He laughed a forced laugh, affirmed that he had only been joking, anddemanded whether I could possibly have thought him in earnest. Just thenthe bell rang; the play-hour was over; it was an evening on which M.Pelet was accustomed to read passages from the drama and the belleslettres to his pupils. He did not wait for my answer, but rising, leftthe room, humming as he went some gay strain of Beranger's.
The Professor Page 12
