From May 2 to May 5.
I have seen him in his office, Maitre Mouche, the guardian of Jeanne.Small, thin, and dry; his complexion looks as if it was made out of thedust of his pigeon-holes. He is a spectacled animal; for to imagine himwithout his spectacles would be impossible. I have heard him speak,this Maitre Mouche; he has a voice like a tin rattle, and he uses choicephrases; but I should have been better pleased if he had not chosen hisphrases so carefully. I have observed him, this Maitre Mouche; he isvery ceremonious, and watches his visitors slyly out of the corner ofhis eye.
Maitre Mouche is quite pleased, he informs us; he is delighted to findwe have taken such an interest in his ward. But he does not think we areplaced in this world just to amuse ourselves. No: he does not believeit; and I am free to acknowledge that anybody in his company is likelyto reach the same conclusion, so little is he capable of inspiringjoyfulness. He fears that it would be giving his dear ward a false andpernicious idea of life to allow her too much enjoyment. It is for thisreason that he requests Madame de Gabry not to invite the young girl toher house except at very long intervals.
We left the dusty notary and his dusty study with a permit in due form(everything which issues from the office of Maitre Mouche is in dueform) to visit Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre on the first Thursday ofeach month at Mademoiselle Prefere's private school, Rue Demours, AuxTernes.
The first Thursday in May I set out to pay a visit to MademoisellePrefere, whose establishment I discerned from afar off by a big sign,painted with blue letters. That blue tint was the first indication Ireceived of Mademoiselle Prefere's character, which I was able to seemore of later on. A scared-looking servant took my card, and abandonedme without one word of hope at the door of a chilly parlour full of thatstale odour peculiar to the dining-rooms of educational establishments.The floor of this parlour had been waxed with such pitiless energy,that I remained for awhile in distress upon the threshold. But happilyobserving that little strips of woollen carpet had been scattered overthe floor in front of each horse-hair chair, I succeeded, by cautiouslystepping from one carpet-island to another in reaching the angle of themantlepiece, where I sat down quite out of breath.
Over the mantelpiece, in a large gilded frame, was a written document,entitled in flamboyant Gothic lettering, Tableau d'Honneur, with a longarray of names underneath, among which I did not have the pleasure offinding that of Jeanne Alexandre. After having read over several timesthe names of those girl-pupils who had thus made themselves honoured inthe eyes of Mademoiselle Prefere, I began to feel uneasy at not hearingany one coming. Mademoiselle Prefere would certainly have succeeded inestablishing the absolute silence of interstellar spaces throughout herpedagogical domains, had it not been that the sparrows had chosen heryard to assemble in by legions, and chirp at the top of their voices.It was a pleasure to hear them. But there was no way of seeingthem--through the ground-glass windows. I had to content myself with thesights of the parlour, decorated from floor to ceiling, on all of itsfour walls, with drawings executed by the pupils of the institution.There were Vestals, flowers, thatched cottages, column-capitals, andan enormous head of Tatius, King of the Sabines, bearing the signatureEstelle Mouton.
I had already passed some time in admiring the energy with whichMademoiselle Mouton had delineated the bushy eyebrows and the fiercegaze of the antique warrior, when a sound, faint like the rustling ofa dead leaf moved by the wind, caused me to turn my head. It was not adead leaf at all--it was Mademoiselle Prefere. With hands jointed beforeher, she came gliding over the mirror-polish of that wonderful flooras the Saints of the Golden Legend were wont to glide over thecrystal surface of the waters. But upon any other occasion, I am sure,Mademoiselle Prefere would not have made me think in the least aboutthose virgins dear to mystical fancy. Her face rather gave me theidea of a russet-apple preserved or a whole winter in an attic bysome economical housekeeper. Her shoulders were covered with a fringedpelerine, which had nothing at all remarkable about it, but which shewore as if it were a sacerdotal vestment, or the symbol of some highcivic function.
I explained to her the purpose of my visit, and gave her my letter ofintroduction.
"Ah!--so you are Monsieur Mouche!" she exclaimed. "Is his health VERYgood? He is the most upright of men, the most---"
She did not finish the phrase, but raised her eyes to the ceiling. Myown followed the direction of their gaze, and observed a little spiralof paper lace, suspended from the place of the chandelier, which wasapparently destined, so far as I could discover, to attract the fliesaway from the gilded mirror-frames and the Tableau d'Honneur.
"I have met Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre," I observed, "at theresidence of Madame de Gabry and had reason to appreciate the excellentcharacter and quick intelligence of the young girl. As I used to knowher parents very well, the friendship which I felt for them naturallyinclines me to take an interest in her."
Mademoiselle Prefere, in lieu of making any reply, sighed profoundly,pressed her mysterious pelerine to her heart, and again contemplated thepaper spiral.
At last she observed,
"Since you were once the friend of Monsieur and Madame Alexandre, I hopeand trust that, like Monsieur Mouche and myself, you deplore thosecrazy speculations which led them to ruin, and reduced their daughter toabsolute poverty!"
I thought to myself, on hearing these words, how very wrong it is tobe unlucky, and how unpardonable such an error on the part of thosepreviously in a position worthy of envy. Their fall at once avenges andflatters us; and we are wholly pitiless.
After having answered, very frankly, that I knew nothing whatever aboutthe history of the bank, I asked the schoolmistress if she was satisfiedwith Mademoiselle Alexandre.
"That child is indomitable!" cried Mademoiselle Prefere.
And she assumed an attitude of lofty resignation, to symbolise thedifficult situation she was placed in by a pupil so hard to train. Then,with more calmness of manner, she added:
"The young person is not unintelligent. But she cannot resign herself tolearn things by rule."
What a strange old maid was this Mademoiselle Prefere! She walkedwithout lifting her legs, and spoke without moving her lips! Without,however, considering her peculiarities for more than a reasonableinstant, I replied that principles were, no doubt, very excellentthings, and that I could trust myself to her judgement in regard totheir value; but that, after all, when one had learned something, itvery little difference what method had been followed in the learning ofit.
Mademoiselle made a slow gesture of dissent. Then with a sigh, shedeclared,
"Ah, Monsieur! those who do not understand educational methods are aptto have very false ideas on these subjects. I am certain they expresstheir opinions with the best intentions in the world; but they would dobetter, a great deal better, to leave all such questions to competentpeople."
I did not attempt to argue further; and simply asked her whether I couldsee Mademoiselle Alexandre at once.
She looked at her pelerine, as if trying to read in the entanglementsof its fringes, as in a conjuring book, what sort of answer she ought tomake; then said,
"Mademoiselle Alexandre has a penance to perform, and a class-lesson togive; but I should be very sorry to let you put yourself to the troubleof coming here all to no purpose. I am going to send for her. Only firstallow me, Monsieur--as is our custom--to put your name on the visitors'register."
She sat down at the table, opened a large copybook, and, taking outMaitre Mouche's letter again from under her pelerine, where she hadplaced it, looked at it, and began to write.
"'Bonnard'--with a 'd,' is it not?" she asked. "Excuse me for being soparticular; but my opinion is that proper names have an orthography.We have dictation-lessons in proper names, Monsieur, at thisschool--historical proper names, of course!"
After I had written down my name in a running hand, she inquired whethershe should not put down after it my profession, title, quality--suchas "retired merchant," "employe," "independent gen
tleman," or somethingelse. There was a column in her register expressly for that purpose.
"My goodness, Madame!" I said, "if you must absolutely fill that columnof yours, put down 'Member of the Institute.'"
It was still Mademoiselle Prefere's pelerine I saw before me; but it wasnot Mademoiselle Prefere who wore it; it was a totally different person,obliging, gracious, caressing, radiant, happy. Her eyes, smiled; thelittle wrinkles of her face (there were a vast number of them!) alsosmiled; her mouth smiled likewise, but only on one side. I discoveredafterwards that was her best side. She spoke: her voice had also changedwith her manner; it was now sweet as honey.
"You said, Monsieur, that our dear Jeanne was very intelligent. Idiscovered the same thing myself, and I am proud of being able toagree with you. This young girl has really made me feel a great deal ofinterest in her. She has what I call a happy disposition.... But excuseme for thus drawing upon your valuable time."
She summoned the servant-girl, who looked much more hurried and scaredthan before, and who vanished with the order to go and tell MademoiselleAlexandre that Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard, Member of the Institute, waswaiting to see her in the parlour.
Mademoiselle Prefere had barely time to confide in me that she had themost profound respect for all decisions of the Institute--whatever theymight be--when Jeanne appeared, out of breath, red as a poppy, withher eyes very wide open, and her arms dangling helplessly at hersides--charming in her artless awkwardness.
"What a state you are in, my dear child!" murmured Mademoiselle Prefere,with maternal sweetness, as she arranged the girl's collar.
Jeanne certainly did present an odd aspect. Her hair combed back, andimperfectly held by a net from which loose curls were escaping; herslender arms, sheathed down to the elbows in lustring sleeves; herhands, which she did not seem to know what to do with, all red withchillblains; her dress, much too short, revealing that she had onstockings much too large for her, and shoes worn down at the heel; anda skipping-rope tied round her waist in lieu of a belt,--all combined tolend Mademoiselle Jeanne an appearance the reverse of presentable.
"Oh, you crazy girl!" sighed Mademoiselle Prefere, who now seemed nolonger like a mother, but rather like an elder sister.
Then she suddenly left the room, gliding like a shadow over the polishedfloor.
I said to Jeanne,
"Sit down, Jeanne, and talk to me as you would to a friend. Are you notbetter satisfied here now than you were last year?"
She hesitated; then answered with a good-natured smile of resignation,
"Not much better."
I asked her to tell me about her school life. She began at once toenumerate all her different studies--piano, style, chronology of theKings of France, sewing, drawing, catechism, deportment... I could neverremember them all! She still held in her hands, all unconsciously, thetwo ends of her skipping-rope, and she raised and lowered them regularlywhile making her enumeration. Then all at once she became conscious ofwhat she was doing, blushed, stammered, and became so confused that Ihad to renounce my desire to know the full programme of study adopted inthe Prefere Institution.
After having questioned Jeanne on various matters, and obtained only thevaguest of answers, I perceived that her young mind was totally absorbedby the skipping-rope, and I entered bravely into that grave subject.
"So you have been skipping?" I said. "It is a very nice amusement, butone that you must not exert yourself too much at; for any excessiveexercise of that kind might seriously injure your health, and I shouldbe very much grieved about it Jeanne--I should be very much grieved,indeed!"
"You are very kind, Monsieur," the young girl said, "to have come to seeme and talk to me like this. I did not think about thanking you whenI came in, because I was too much surprised. Have you seen Madame deGabry? Please tell me something about her, Monsieur."
"Madame de Gabry," I answered, "is very well. I can only tell you abouther, Jeanne, what an old gardener once said of the lady of the castle,his mistress, when somebody anxiously inquired about her: 'Madame isin her road.' Yes, Madame de Gabry is in her own road; and you know,Jeanne, what a good road it is, and how steadily she can walk upon it. Iwent out with her the other day, very, very far away from the house;and we talked about you. We talked about you, my child, at your mother'sgrave."
"I am very glad," said Jeanne.
And then, all at once, she began to cry.
I felt too much reverence for those generous tears to attempt in any wayto check the emotion that had evoked them. But in a little while, as thegirl wiped her eyes, I asked her,
"Will you not tell me, Jeanne, why you were thinking so much about thatskipping-rope a little while ago?"
"Why, indeed I will, Monsieur. It was only because I had no right tocome into the parlour with a skipping-rope. You know, of course, that Iam past the age for playing at skipping. But when the servant said therewas an old gentleman... oh!... I mean... that a gentleman was waiting forme in the parlour, I was making the little girls jump. Then I tied therope round my waist in a hurry, so that it might not get lost. It waswrong. But I have not been in the habit of having many people come tosee me. And Mademoiselle Prefere never lets us off if we commit anybreach of deportment: so I know she is going to punish me, and I am verysorry about it."...
"That is too bad, Jeanne!"
She became very grave, and said,
"Yes, Monsieur, it is too bad; because when I am punished myself, I haveno more authority over the little girls."
I did not at once fully understand the nature of this unpleasantness;but Jeanne explained to me that, as she was charged by MademoisellePrefere with the duties of taking care of the youngest class, of washingand dressing the children, of teaching them how to behave, how to sew,how to say the alphabet, of showing them how to play, and, finally, ofputting them to bed at the close of the day, she could not make herselfobeyed by those turbulent little folks on the days she was condemnedto wear a night-cap in the class-room, or to eat her meals standing up,from a plate turned upside down.
Having secretly admired the punishments devised by the Lady of theEnchanted Pelerine, I responded:
"Then, if I understand you rightly, Jeanne, you are at once a pupil hereand a mistress? It is a condition of existence very common in the world.You are punished, and you punish?"
"Oh, Monsieur!" she exclaimed. "No! I never punish!"
"Then, I suspect," said I, "that your indulgence gets you many scoldingsfrom Mademoiselle Prefere?"
She smiled, and blinked.
Then I said to her that the troubles in which we often involveourselves, by trying to act according to our conscience and to do thebest we can, are never of the sort that totally dishearten and wearyus, but are, on the contrary, wholesome trials. This sort of philosophytouched her very little. She even appeared totally unmoved by my moralexhortations. But was not this quite natural on her part?--and ought Inot to have remembered that it is only those no longer innocent who canfind pleasure in the systems of moralists?... I had at least good senseenough to cut short my sermonising.
"Jeanne," I said, "you were asking a moment ago about Madame de Gabry.Let us talk about that Fairy of yours She was very prettily made. Do youdo any modelling in wax now?"
"I have not a bit of wax," she exclaimed, wringing her hands--"no wax atall!"
"No wax!" I cried--"in a republic of busy bees?"
She laughed.
"And, then, you see, Monsieur, my FIGURINES, as you call them, are notin Mademoiselle Prefere's programme. But I had begun to make a verysmall Saint-George for Madame de Gabry--a tiny little Saint-George,with a golden cuirass. Is not that right, Monsieur Bonnard--to giveSaint-George a gold cuirass?"
"Quite right, Jeanne; but what became of it?"
"I am going to tell you, I kept it in my pocket because I had no otherplace to put it, and--and I sat down on it by mistake."
She drew out of her pocket a little wax figure, which had been squeezedout of all resemblance to human form, and of w
hich the dislocated limbswere only attached to the body by their wire framework. At the sight ofher hero thus marred, she was seized at once with compassion and gaiety.The latter feeling obtained the mastery, and she burst into a clearlaugh, which, however, stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Mademoiselle Prefere stood at the parlour door, smiling.
"That dear child!" sighed the schoolmistress in her tenderest tone. "Iam afraid she will tire you. And, then, your time is so precious!"
I begged Mademoiselle Prefere to dismiss that illusion, and, rising totake my leave, I took from my pocket some chocolate-cakes and sweetswhich I had brought with me.
"That is so nice!" said Jeanne; "there will be enough to go round thewhole school."
The lady of the pelerine intervened.
"Mademoiselle Alexandre," she said, "thank Monsieur for his generosity."
Jeanne looked at her for an instant in a sullen way; then, turning tome, said with remarkable firmness,
"Monsieur, I thank you for your kindness in coming to see me."
"Jeanne," I said, pressing both her hands, "remain always a good,truthful, brave girl. Good-bye."
As she left the room with her packages of chocolate and confectionery,she happened to strike the handles of her skipping-rope against theback of a chair. Mademoiselle Prefere, full of indignation, pressed bothhands over her heart, under her pelerine; and I almost expected to seeher give up her scholastic ghost.
When we found ourselves alone, she recovered her composure; and I mustsay, without considering myself thereby flattered, that she smiled uponme with one whole side of her face.
"Mademoiselle," I said, taking advantage of her good humour, "I noticedthat Jeanne Alexandre looks a little pale. You know better than I howmuch consideration and care a young girl requires at her age. It wouldonly be doing you an injustice by implication to recommend her stillmore earnestly to your vigilance."
These words seemed to ravish her with delight. She lifted her eyes, asin ecstasy, to the paper spirals of the ceiling, and, clasping her handsexclaimed,
"How well these eminent men know the art of considering the mosttrifling details!"
I called her attention to the fact that the health of a young girl wasnot a trifling detail, and made my farewell bow. But she stopped me onthe threshold to say to me, very confidentially,
"You must excuse me, Monsieur. I am a woman, and I love glory. I cannotconceal from you the fact that I feel myself greatly honoured by thepresence of a Member of the Institute in my humble institution."
I duly excused the weakness of Mademoiselle Prefere; and, thinking onlyof Jeanne, with the blindness of egotism, kept asking myself all alongthe road, "What are we going to do with this child?"