Confession (19 page)

I now regularly give ‘English’ lessons to Mr Heger & his brother-in-law Mr Chappelle
…’ I paused for a moment wondering if perhaps I should explain about Monsieur’s first wife? Ellen would want to know; afterall she was always telling me that my letters lacked detail and yet that would complicate matters, and somehow it was a piece of information I wanted to keep for myself. I picked up my pen again, ‘
I now regularly give ‘English’ lessons to Mr Heger & his brother-in-law Mr Chappelle – they get on with wonderful rapidity – especially the first – he already begins to speak English very decently – if you could see and hear the efforts I make to teach them to pronounce like Englishmen and their unavailing attempts to imitate, you would laugh to all eternity.

The Carnival is just over and we have entered upon the gloom and abstinence of Lent – the first day of Lent we had coffee without milk for breakfast – vinegar & vegetables with a very little salt-fish for dinner and bread for supper – The carnival was nothing but masking and
mummery – Mr Heger took me and one of the pupils into the town to see the masks- it was animating to see the immense crowds & general gaiety – but the masks were nothing –

I have been several times to the Dixons they are very kind to me – this letter will probably go by Mr Tom – Miss Dixon is certainly an elegant & accomplished person: my opinion of her is unchanged for good and otherwise – When she leaves Bruxelles I shall have no where to go to – I shall be sorry to lose her society.

The Carnival masks had indeed amounted to nothing, I did not tell a lie when I wrote that to Ellen for in reality all they amounted to were some cardboard, some glue and a great deal of paint whereas I had imagined far more spectacular pieces adorned with feathers, pearls, rubies and sequins.

I had been expecting to go to the Carnival at the invitation of Madame Heger who thought it would make a pleasant evening if the three of us attended the event together however on the day in question Madame apologized but said she was feeling unwell. The event cancelled I was sitting in the schoolroom alongside Marianne Wilke and Mademoiselle Blanche who was instructing a small group of girls in the latest fashion for
embroiderie anglaise
, when Monsieur Heger appeared.

‘You are not ready?’ he demanded without introduction. ‘You cannot have forgotten that we are to go out this evening?’

‘Forgotten?’ I said noticing how Marianne Wilke’s face lit up when my teacher spoke. ‘Madame Heger is unwell Monsieur, has she not said? – ’

‘But
I
am not indisposed,’ Monsieur Heger replied impatiently. ‘Please, come along, go and fetch your coat and hat and you,’ he said turning to point at Marianne Wilke, ‘you too, we
shall make up a party of three, in the hallway directly please – ’

After he had left my cheeks began to blaze, not because of Monsieur Heger’s demands but because I saw how peeved his request had left Mademoiselle Blanche.

An establishment such as the Pensionat Heger is a finely tuned place. Everything within its four walls delicately balanced from the invisible hierarchies amongst the students to the unspoken rivalries between the teachers and the undeclared warfare between the two. Nothing occurred within that establishment without someone taking exception or perceiving some slight.

As soon as Monsieur Heger declared his intention of taking myself and Marianne Wilke to the Carnival without so much as a glance at Mademoiselle Blanche, I knew the moment had been noted.

The Carnival was in the Haute-Ville or upper part of the city and so it was in this direction that our small party of three walked that evening. Monsieur took the lead while Marianne and I followed a little behind, marvelling at the swell of people headed in the same direction as our selves, pulled along by the distant sound of music. Strings of coloured lights garlanded every building, lamps blazed along every street while the trees glittered with candles and flowers of every description. Not even the moon nor the stars could compete with the finery we saw on display whilst every now and again Monsieur Heger would turn around to make certain we had not been lost in the crowds. Finally we came to the gates that led into the park and Monsieur Heger stopped to let us catch up with him so that all three of us could enter as one.

I gripped Marianne’s hand for it quickly became apparent, that the masks, desultory though
they certainly were, frightened this simple young girl for they gave the impression we were in the midst of an immense flock of raptors, all glaring and laughing and singing as one.

Monsieur Heger laughed too and as we made our way along a torch-lit avenue of acacia trees that stood like dark sentinels around a castle, he turned to me.

‘Are you glad we came now?’ he shouted above the noise of the crowds. ‘You do not find it too overwhelming, all these people?’

‘Not I,’ I said glancing at Marianne Wilke who, much to my surprise seemed quite at ease and, as if to testify to this, she loosened her grip upon my hand.

‘I did not want you to miss out on the spectacle and it appears this young woman appreciates it too,’ he said smiling across at Marianne who looked dumbly back. ‘She does not speak?’ Monsieur Heger commented.

‘She finds it difficult, I believe. She observes and understands things as deeply as any of us but cannot communicate her feelings easily.

We continued to mingle in the crowd, our peculiar party of three, the professor, his pupil and the young woman with the mind of a child. The night-air though chill was warm and cherry-coloured. Small groups of people gathered under the lamps; their dresses gauzy as insects’ wings, their flightiness that of a thousand moths. If this had been a dream I would have found it disorientating for it was hard to tell in which direction one should go or where indeed ones path, once chosen, would lead. Eyes stared at us from every quarter, all glinting and gleaming behind their black satin masques. At one point I thought I heard someone whisper my name, at another I was convinced I had seen Mademoiselle Blanche hiding behind a small copse of trees practicing her spiery.

‘Give me your hand’ cried Monsieur Heger as the crowds grew thicker. ‘Now!’ he
demanded.

I hesitated a moment then caught his look. No one would notice such an ordinary act in such an extraordinary place.

Who was I to feel concerned?

The answer was, nobody. So I placed my hand in my teacher’s and immediately felt his grip to be strong and even when we came to a halt in front of the large wooden stage and stood awhile to listen to the orchestra and choirs of what looked like heavenly angels singing en masse, even then – when no danger confronted us – Monsieur kept my hand in his.

Closing my eyes music drifted through me. The orchestra swelled and my heart rose to meet it, the music lulled and the blood that coursed through my veins slowed and grew calm. To be borne away on a cloud such as this was heavenly, but oh! with what pitiless humour did the Gods subsequently upbraid me for – on opening my eyes again – I returned from that enchanted region to the real world and the voice of an all-too familiar foe.

A short distance away stood a small party that included an elderly couple together with two masked girls and two rather handsome-looking gentlemen. It was to these latter that one of the young women paid most attention, giggling and smiling and cocking her head to one side as prettily as a spaniel might in the company of its master. Both gentlemen smiled after which one of them, the taller of the two – made a play of removing something, a rose petal? a leaf? from the girl’s hair. Lightly she lifted her hand to touch his all the while smiling and laughing. He laughed too and – no doubt encouraged by this display of affection – the young girl momentarily lifted her masque.

I dropped Monsieur Heger’s hand. Vertue Basompierre’s eyes were scanning the crowd and as he turned towards me to see why I had so rudely rejected him, at that very moment
Vertue’s eyes came to rest upon our little group. Immediately her face lit up.

‘Monsieur!’ she cried making her way towards us, ‘And Mademoiselle, you have come too!’ she added with what seemed like genuine affection. ‘It is quite an evening, is it not?’

‘We are enjoying it very much’ replied Monsieur Heger turning to both myself and Marianne Wilke. ‘You are with company?’

‘My guardians in Brussels, Mr & Mrs Wilkins and their two sons, Henry and George. Isn’t George the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon, Mademoiselle? And so sweet!’ she burbled affectionately. ‘I do believe he is quite smitten with me; his mother is of the opinion we make an excellent match. What do you think Mademoiselle, are we suited? And Monsieur, you teach young men every day of the week, does he not look like a good prospect to you? He
is
a bit of a noodle I’ll admit, but regard! Isn’t that face the face of a prince? Of a King among men? He is adorable is he not? If he were a puppy I doubt I would care more about him – ’

Monsieur Heger smiled genially as this nonsense continued and I too smiled for, if nothing else, Vertue’s enthusiasms were very endearing. Indeed for the first time since I had encountered her, I felt genuine affection for this, her abundant frivolity. Even Marianne Wilke was included in Vertue’s exuberance, gaining a huge hug and a kiss on both cheeks by way of a departing gift. Then, before we knew it, Vertue had bid her farewells and disappeared once again into the foam and froth of the crowds.

VI

Spring advanced and with it the weather grew warmer and the garden, which throughout February and March had seemed a barren, inhospitable place soon began to fill with flowers.
On warm afternoons I would take my sketchpad and sit on a bench in the shade drawing either the wildlife or parts of the school building, whichever took my fancy.

I also continued to visit Mary Dixon and on occasion, the Revd & Mrs Jenkins who invited me to take tea with them most Sunday afternoons after church.

I also continued to study with Monsieur Heger although the first lesson we undertook after Lent was not without its trials for on our return from the Carnival we were met by the figure of Madame Heger who had made her displeasure quite plain.

‘You have returned at last,’ she spoke frostily to Marianne as soon as the three of us entered the hallway. ‘If you please, Mademoiselle Blanche, take Marianne upstairs and put her to bed and make sure you give her plenty of blankets.’

Mademoiselle Blanche – who was standing next to Madame Heger - smiled obligingly then led Marianne away.

‘And you Mademoiselle?’ continued Monsieur’s wife turning to me then glancing over at her husband. ‘Are you cold? You look half frozen. You must be exhausted being made to walk all that way to the Carnival and then all the way back again?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ I said. ‘Walking invigorates me – ’

‘I thought she should see the entertainment – ’ Monsieur explained.

‘Naturally she should – ’ returned Madame Heger although her voice was not in the slightest degree natural.

That night I lay awake, white rocks looming through the darkness, disembodied voices surrounding me. It was cold outside but in the dormitory it was colder still. Everything glittered with a thin film of ice. Snow blew through the windows drifting across the floor
turning the beds into spectres while I tried pushing the darkness away.

*

‘Your essay was, as always, most interesting,’ Monsieur Heger said handing my paper back to me together with a few other pieces I had attempted to translate from English into French including Scott’s coronach from
The Lady of the Lake
which I thought Monsieur might find amusing given its similarities to the Millevoye.

‘Madame Heger is well today, Monsieur?’

‘My wife has gone to stay with her cousin for a few days.’ Monsieur Heger had his back turned to me as he spoke. ‘She is….she is…’

‘Monsieur? – ’

‘My wife,’ he said and then paused again before repeating what he had said only moments before. ‘My wife has taken the children to her cousins, she thought the change might do them some good.’

‘You might join them?’

‘I doubt it,’ he replied turning again to face me. ‘I have so many commitments here and at the Athénée –. You were not too exhausted, I hope, after our little excursion. I believe Marianne

Wilke survived the ordeal?’

‘The ordeal?’ I said. ‘Marianne made it quite clear how much she enjoyed herself. She has not stopped smiling since– ’

‘And you? Did you enjoy yourself?’

This was a question to which there was only one answer, yet I remained silent. I looked at
Monsieur, at his dark blue eyes. I could think of nothing else except how they shone.

‘Perhaps we should continue our studies,’ he said. ‘Read your essay through again please – you will see I have made certain corrections – ’

I did indeed notice his corrections for as was his habit he had scored out, underlined and queried countless words and phrases, adding little comments in the margins, comments which were both insightful and pleasing. Where I stated that ‘true poetry is but the faithful impression of something that happens or has happened in the poet’s soul’, Monsieur Heger had written ‘very good, quite right’ in the margin – two phrases which set me aglow. Where I had attempted a metaphorical comparison using a diamond – Monsieur Heger picked up on the weakness of my phrasing and instead returned a much stronger, more precise image that illustrated perfectly how all artists, however gifted, required good technique to bring the diamond – in all its glory – forth from the rock.

I imagined him as he sat at his desk correcting my essay, concentrating on nothing else but what I had written – scoring out the words he thought inappropriate, dipping the nib of his pen into the heavy, glass inkwell before he formed the loops and curls of each word. He would lift up a thick sheet of blotting paper and press it over the wet ink. Perhaps he would rub his hand against the paper or lean back in his chair to light one of his cigars while he contemplated the markings he had imposed over mine.

‘You are still a little rusty,’ Monsieur’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘You were in England quite a while, but altogether it was a solid piece of – ’