CHAPTER XV.
SOME time elapsed before I again gave a lesson in the first class; theholiday of Whitsuntide occupied three days, and on the fourth it was theturn of the second division to receive my instructions. As I madethe transit of the CARRE, I observed, as usual, the band of sewerssurrounding Mdlle. Henri; there were only about a dozen of them, butthey made as much noise as might have sufficed for fifty; they seemedvery little under her control; three or four at once assailed her withimportunate requirements; she looked harassed, she demanded silence, butin vain. She saw me, and I read in her eye pain that a stranger shouldwitness the insubordination of her pupils; she seemed to entreatorder--her prayers were useless; then I remarked that she compressedher lips and contracted her brow; and her countenance, if I readit correctly, said--"I have done my best; I seem to merit blamenotwithstanding; blame me then who will." I passed on as I closed theschool-room door, I heard her say, suddenly and sharply, addressing oneof the eldest and most turbulent of the lot--
"Amelie Mullenberg, ask me no question, and request of me no assistance,for a week to come; during that space of time I will neither speak toyou nor help you."
The words were uttered with emphasis--nay, with vehemence--and acomparative silence followed; whether the calm was permanent, I knownot; two doors now closed between me and the CARRE.
Next day was appropriated to the first class; on my arrival, I found thedirectress seated, as usual, in a chair between the two estrades, andbefore her was standing Mdlle. Henri, in an attitude (as it seemed tome) of somewhat reluctant attention. The directress was knitting andtalking at the same time. Amidst the hum of a large school-room, it waseasy so to speak in the ear of one person, as to be heard by that personalone, and it was thus Mdlle. Reuter parleyed with her teacher. The faceof the latter was a little flushed, not a little troubled; there wasvexation in it, whence resulting I know not, for the directress lookedvery placid indeed; she could not be scolding in such gentle whispers,and with so equable a mien; no, it was presently proved that herdiscourse had been of the most friendly tendency, for I heard theclosing words--
"C'est assez, ma bonne amie; a present je ne veux pas vous retenirdavantage."
Without reply, Mdlle. Henri turned away; dissatisfaction was plainlyevinced in her face, and a smile, slight and brief, but bitter,distrustful, and, I thought, scornful, curled her lip as she took herplace in the class; it was a secret, involuntary smile, which lasted buta second; an air of depression succeeded, chased away presently by oneof attention and interest, when I gave the word for all the pupils totake their reading-books. In general I hated the reading-lesson, itwas such a torture to the ear to listen to their uncouth mouthing ofmy native tongue, and no effort of example or precept on my part everseemed to effect the slightest improvement in their accent. To-day,each in her appropriate key, lisped, stuttered, mumbled, and jabbered asusual; about fifteen had racked me in turn, and my auricular nerve wasexpecting with resignation the discords of the sixteenth, when a full,though low voice, read out, in clear correct English.
"On his way to Perth, the king was met by a Highland woman, callingherself a prophetess; she stood at the side of the ferry by which he wasabout to travel to the north, and cried with a loud voice, 'My lord theking, if you pass this water you will never return again alive!'"--(VIDEthe HISTORY OF SCOTLAND).
I looked up in amazement; the voice was a voice of Albion the accentwas pure and silvery; it only wanted firmness, and assurance, to be thecounterpart of what any well-educated lady in Essex or Middlesex mighthave enounced, yet the speaker or reader was no other than Mdlle. Henri,in whose grave, joyless face I saw no mark of consciousness that she hadperformed any extraordinary feat. No one else evinced surprise either.Mdlle. Reuter knitted away assiduously; I was aware, however, that atthe conclusion of the paragraph, she had lifted her eyelid and honouredme with a glance sideways; she did not know the full excellency of theteacher's style of reading, but she perceived that her accent was notthat of the others, and wanted to discover what I thought; I masked myvisage with indifference, and ordered the next girl to proceed.
When the lesson was over, I took advantage of the confusion caused bybreaking up, to approach Mdlle. Henri; she was standing near the windowand retired as I advanced; she thought I wanted to look out, and didnot imagine that I could have anything to say to her. I took herexercise-book out of her hand; as I turned over the leaves I addressedher:--
"You have had lessons in English before?" I asked.
"No, sir."
"No! you read it well; you have been in England?"
"Oh, no!" with some animation.
"You have been in English families?"
Still the answer was "No." Here my eye, resting on the flyleaf of thebook, saw written, "Frances Evan Henri."
"Your name?" I asked
"Yes, sir."
My interrogations were cut short; I heard a little rustling behind me,and close at my back was the directress, professing to be examining theinterior of a desk.
"Mademoiselle," said she, looking up and addressing the teacher, "Willyou have the goodness to go and stand in the corridor, while the youngladies are putting on their things, and try to keep some order?"
Mdlle. Henri obeyed.
"What splendid weather!" observed the directress cheerfully, glancing atthe same time from the window. I assented and was withdrawing. "What ofyour new pupil, monsieur?" continued she, following my retreating steps."Is she likely to make progress in English?"
"Indeed I can hardly judge. She possesses a pretty good accent; ofher real knowledge of the language I have as yet had no opportunity offorming an opinion."
"And her natural capacity, monsieur? I have had my fears about that: canyou relieve me by an assurance at least of its average power?"
"I see no reason to doubt its average power, mademoiselle, but reallyI scarcely know her, and have not had time to study the calibre of hercapacity. I wish you a very good afternoon."
She still pursued me. "You will observe, monsieur, and tell me what youthink; I could so much better rely on your opinion than on my own; womencannot judge of these things as men can, and, excuse my pertinacity,monsieur, but it is natural I should feel interested about this poorlittle girl (pauvre petite); she has scarcely any relations, her ownefforts are all she has to look to, her acquirements must be her solefortune; her present position has once been mine, or nearly so; it isthen but natural I should sympathize with her; and sometimes when I seethe difficulty she has in managing pupils, I feel quite chagrined.I doubt not she does her best, her intentions are excellent; but,monsieur, she wants tact and firmness. I have talked to her on thesubject, but I am not fluent, and probably did not express myselfwith clearness; she never appears to comprehend me. Now, would youoccasionally, when you see an opportunity, slip in a word of adviceto her on the subject; men have so much more influence than womenhave--they argue so much more logically than we do; and you, monsieur,in particular, have so paramount a power of making yourself obeyed;a word of advice from you could not but do her good; even if she weresullen and headstrong (which I hope she is not), she would scarcelyrefuse to listen to you; for my own part, I can truly say that I neverattend one of your lessons without deriving benefit from witnessing yourmanagement of the pupils. The other masters are a constant source ofanxiety to me; they cannot impress the young ladies with sentiments ofrespect, nor restrain the levity natural to youth: in you, monsieur, Ifeel the most absolute confidence; try then to put this poor childinto the way of controlling our giddy, high-spirited Brabantoises.But, monsieur, I would add one word more; don't alarm her AMOUR PROPRE;beware of inflicting a wound there. I reluctantly admit that in thatparticular she is blameably--some would say ridiculously--susceptible.I fear I have touched this sore point inadvertently, and she cannot getover it."
During the greater part of this harangue my hand was on the lock of theouter door; I now turned it.
"Au revoir, mademoiselle," said I, and I escaped. I saw the directress's
stock of words was yet far from exhausted. She looked after me, shewould fain have detained me longer. Her manner towards me hadbeen altered ever since I had begun to treat her with hardness andindifference: she almost cringed to me on every occasion she consultedmy countenance incessantly, and beset me with innumerable littleofficious attentions. Servility creates despotism. This slavish homage,instead of softening my heart, only pampered whatever was stern andexacting in its mood. The very circumstance of her hovering round melike a fascinated bird, seemed to transform me into a rigid pillar ofstone; her flatteries irritated my scorn, her blandishments confirmedmy reserve. At times I wondered what she meant by giving herself suchtrouble to win me, when the more profitable Pelet was already in hernets, and when, too, she was aware that I possessed her secret, for Ihad not scrupled to tell her as much: but the fact is that as it washer nature to doubt the reality and under-value the worth of modesty,affection, disinterestedness--to regard these qualities as foibles ofcharacter--so it was equally her tendency to consider pride, hardness,selfishness, as proofs of strength. She would trample on the neckof humility, she would kneel at the feet of disdain; she would meettenderness with secret contempt, indifference she would woo withceaseless assiduities. Benevolence, devotedness, enthusiasm, wereher antipathies; for dissimulation and self-interest she had apreference--they were real wisdom in her eyes; moral and physicaldegradation, mental and bodily inferiority, she regarded withindulgence; they were foils capable of being turned to good account asset-offs for her own endowments. To violence, injustice, tyranny, shesuccumbed--they were her natural masters; she had no propensity to hate,no impulse to resist them; the indignation their behests awake in somehearts was unknown in hers. From all this it resulted that the false andselfish called her wise, the vulgar and debased termed her charitable,the insolent and unjust dubbed her amiable, the conscientious andbenevolent generally at first accepted as valid her claim to beconsidered one of themselves; but ere long the plating of pretensionwore off, the real material appeared below, and they laid her aside as adeception.