Authors: Charlotte Brontë
If I looked at these girls with little scruple, they looked at me
with still less. Eulalie raised her unmoved eye to mine, and
seemed to expect, passively but securely, an impromptu tribute to
her majestic charms. Hortense regarded me boldly, and giggled at
the same time, while she said, with an air of impudent freedom—
"Dictez-nous quelquechose de facile pour commencer, monsieur."
Caroline shook her loose ringlets of abundant but somewhat coarse
hair over her rolling black eyes; parting her lips, as full as
those of a hot-blooded Maroon, she showed her well-set teeth
sparkling between them, and treated me at the same time to a
smile "de sa facon." Beautiful as Pauline Borghese, she looked at
the moment scarcely purer than Lucrece de Borgia. Caroline was
of noble family. I heard her lady-mother's character afterwards,
and then I ceased to wonder at the precocious accomplishments of
the daughter. These three, I at once saw, deemed themselves the
queens of the school, and conceived that by their splendour they
threw all the rest into the shade. In less than five minutes
they had thus revealed to me their characters, and in less than
five minutes I had buckled on a breast-plate of steely
indifference, and let down a visor of impassible austerity.
"Take your pens and commence writing," said I, in as dry and
trite a voice as if I had been addressing only Jules Vanderkelkov
and Co.
The dictee now commenced. My three belles interrupted me
perpetually with little silly questions and uncalled-for remarks,
to some of which I made no answer, and to others replied very
quietly and briefly. "Comment dit-on point et virgule en Anglais,
monsieur?"
"Semi-colon, mademoiselle."
"Semi-collong? Ah, comme c'est drole!" (giggle.)
"J'ai une si mauvaise plume—impossible d'ecrire!"
"Mais, monsieur—je ne sais pas suivre—vous allez si vite."
"Je n'ai rien compris, moi!"
Here a general murmur arose, and the teacher, opening her lips
for the first time, ejaculated—
"Silence, mesdemoiselles!"
No silence followed—on the contrary, the three ladies in front
began to talk more loudly.
"C'est si difficile, l'Anglais!"
"Je deteste la dictee."
"Quel ennui d'ecrire quelquechose que l'on ne comprend pas!"
Some of those behind laughed: a degree of confusion began to
pervade the class; it was necessary to take prompt measures.
"Donnez-moi votre cahier," said I to Eulalie in an abrupt tone;
and bending over, I took it before she had time to give it.
"Et vous, mademoiselle-donnez-moi le votre," continued I, more
mildly, addressing a little pale, plain looking girl who sat in
the first row of the other division, and whom I had remarked as
being at once the ugliest and the most attentive in the room; she
rose up, walked over to me, and delivered her book with a grave,
modest curtsey. I glanced over the two dictations; Eulalie's was
slurred, blotted, and full of silly mistakes—Sylvie's (such was
the name of the ugly little girl) was clearly written, it
contained no error against sense, and but few faults of
orthography. I coolly read aloud both exercises, marking the
faults—then I looked at Eulalie:
"C'est honteux!" said I, and I deliberately tore her dictation
in four parts, and presented her with the fragments. I returned
Sylvie her book with a smile, saying—
"C'est bien—je suis content de vous."
Sylvie looked calmly pleased, Eulalie swelled like an incensed
turkey, but the mutiny was quelled: the conceited coquetry and
futile flirtation of the first bench were exchanged for a
taciturn sullenness, much more convenient to me, and the rest of
my lesson passed without interruption.
A bell clanging out in the yard announced the moment for the
cessation of school labours. I heard our own bell at the same
time, and that of a certain public college immediately after.
Order dissolved instantly; up started every pupil, I hastened to
seize my hat, bow to the maitresse, and quit the room before the
tide of externats should pour from the inner class, where I knew
near a hundred were prisoned, and whose rising tumult I already
heard.
I had scarcely crossed the hall and gained the corridor, when
Mdlle. Reuter came again upon me.
"Step in here a moment," said she, and she held open the door of
the side room from whence she had issued on my arrival; it was a
SALLE-A-MANGER, as appeared from the beaufet and the armoire
vitree, filled with glass and china, which formed part of its
furniture. Ere she had closed the door on me and herself, the
corridor was already filled with day-pupils, tearing down their
cloaks, bonnets, and cabas from the wooden pegs on which they
were suspended; the shrill voice of a maitresse was heard at
intervals vainly endeavouring to enforce some sort of order;
vainly, I say: discipline there was none in these rough ranks,
and yet this was considered one of the best-conducted schools in
Brussels.
"Well, you have given your first lesson," began Mdlle. Reuter in
the most calm, equable voice, as though quite unconscious of the
chaos from which we were separated only by a single wall.
"Were you satisfied with your pupils, or did any circumstance in
their conduct give you cause for complaint? Conceal nothing from
me, repose in me entire confidence."
Happily, I felt in myself complete power to manage my pupils
without aid; the enchantment, the golden haze which had dazzled
my perspicuity at first, had been a good deal dissipated. I
cannot say I was chagrined or downcast by the contrast which the
reality of a pensionnat de demoiselles presented to my vague
ideal of the same community; I was only enlightened and amused;
consequently, I felt in no disposition to complain to Mdlle.
Reuter, and I received her considerate invitation to confidence
with a smile.
"A thousand thanks, mademoiselle, all has gone very smoothly."
She looked more than doubtful.
"Et les trois demoiselles du premier banc?" said she.
"Ah! tout va au mieux!" was my answer, and Mdlle. Reuter ceased
to question me; but her eye—not large, not brilliant, not
melting, or kindling, but astute, penetrating, practical, showed
she was even with me; it let out a momentary gleam, which said
plainly, "Be as close as you like, I am not dependent on your
candour; what you would conceal I already know."
By a transition so quiet as to be scarcely perceptible, the
directress's manner changed; the anxious business-air passed from
her face, and she began chatting about the weather and the town,
and asking in neighbourly wise after M. and Madame Pelet. I
answered all her little questions; she prolonged her talk, I went
on following its many little windings; she sat so long, said so
much, varied so often the topics of discourse, that it was not
difficult to perceive she had a particular aim in thus detaining
me. Her mere words could have afforded no clue to this aim, but
her countenance aided; while her lips uttered only affable
commonplaces, her eyes reverted continually to my face. Her
glances were not given in full, but out of the corners, so
quietly, so stealthily, yet I think I lost not one. I watched
her as keenly as she watched me; I perceived soon that she was
feeling after my real character; she was searching for salient
points, and weak; points, and eccentric points; she was applying
now this test, now that, hoping in the end to find some chink,
some niche, where she could put in her little firm foot and stand
upon my neck—mistress of my nature, Do not mistake me, reader,
it was no amorous influence she wished to gain—at that time it
was only the power of the politician to which she aspired; I was
now installed as a professor in her establishment, and she wanted
to know where her mind was superior to mine—by what feeling or
opinion she could lead me.
I enjoyed the game much, and did not hasten its conclusion;
sometimes I gave her hopes, beginning a sentence rather weakly,
when her shrewd eye would light up—she thought she had me;
having led her a little way, I delighted to turn round and finish
with sound, hard sense, whereat her countenance would fall. At
last a servant entered to announce dinner; the conflict being
thus necessarily terminated, we parted without having gained any
advantage on either side: Mdlle. Reuter had not even given me an
opportunity of attacking her with feeling, and I had managed to
baffle her little schemes of craft. It was a regular drawn
battle. I again held out my hand when I left the room, she gave
me hers; it was a small and white hand, but how cool! I met her
eye too in full—obliging her to give me a straightforward look;
this last test went against me: it left her as it found her
—moderate, temperate, tranquil; me it disappointed.
"I am growing wiser," thought I, as I walked back to M. Pelet's.
"Look at this little woman; is she like the women of novelists
and romancers? To read of female character as depicted in Poetry
and Fiction, one would think it was made up of sentiment, either
for good or bad—here is a specimen, and a most sensible and
respectable specimen, too, whose staple ingredient is abstract
reason. No Talleyrand was ever more passionless than Zoraide
Reuter!" So I thought then; I found afterwards that blunt
susceptibilities are very consistent with strong propensities.
I HAD indeed had a very long talk with the crafty little
politician, and on regaining my quarters, I found that dinner was
half over. To be late at meals was against a standing rule of
the establishment, and had it been one of the Flemish ushers who
thus entered after the removal of the soup and the commencement
of the first course, M. Pelet would probably have greeted him
with a public rebuke, and would certainly have mulcted him both
of soup and fish; as it was, that polite though partial gentleman
only shook his head, and as I took my place, unrolled my napkin,
and said my heretical grace to myself, he civilly despatched a
servant 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 and Vandam (the two ushers) of course
followed them. Poor fellows! if they had not looked so very
heavy, so very soulless, so very indifferent to all things in
heaven above or in the earth beneath, I could have pitied them
greatly for the obligation they were under to trail after those
rough lads everywhere and at all times; even as it was, I felt
disposed to scout myself as a privileged prig when I turned to
ascend to my chamber, sure to find there, if not enjoyment, at
least liberty; but this evening (as had often happened before) I
was to be still farther distinguished.
"Eh bien, mauvais sujet!" said the voice of M. Pelet behind me,
as I set my foot on the first step of the stair, "ou allez-vous?
Venez a la salle-a-manger, que je vous gronde un peu."
"I beg pardon, monsieur," said I, as I followed him to his
private sitting-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 me into the comfortable parlour with a good wood-fire
—for the stove had now been removed for the season. Having rung
the bell he ordered "Coffee for 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, with a coffee-pot, a
sugar-basin, and two large white china cups. While M. Pelet
employed himself in choosing a cigar from a box, my thoughts
reverted to the two outcast ushers, whose voices I could hear
even now crying 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 a little fatigued with their labours.
"Des betes de somme,—des betes de somme," murmured scornfully
the director. Meantime I offered him his cup of coffee.
"Servez-vous mon garcon," said he blandly, when I had put a
couple of huge lumps of continental sugar into his cup. "And now
tell me why you stayed so long at Mdlle. Reuter's. I know that
lessons conclude, in her establishment as in mine, at four
o'clock, and when you returned it was past 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, of course?"
"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 the fire.
"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 was mademoiselle's reason for making me sit before her sofa
one mortal hour, listening to the most copious and fluent
dissertation on the merest frivolities."
"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,
will at 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 est encore jeune, plus agee que toi peut-etre, mais juste
asset pour unir la tendresse d'une petite maman a l'amour d'une
epouse devouee; n'est-ce pas que cela t'irait superieurement?"