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<h2> CHAPTER XIII. </h2>
<p>NEXT morning I rose with the dawn, and having dressed myself and stood
half-an-hour, my elbow leaning on the chest of drawers, considering what
means I should adopt to restore my spirits, fagged with sleeplessness, to
their ordinary tone—for I had no intention of getting up a scene
with M. Pelet, reproaching him with perfidy, sending him a challenge, or
performing other gambadoes of the sort—I hit at last on the
expedient of walking out in the cool of the morning to a neighbouring
establishment of baths, and treating myself to a bracing plunge. The
remedy produced the desired effect. I came back at seven o'clock steadied
and invigorated, and was able to greet M. Pelet, when he entered to
breakfast, with an unchanged and tranquil countenance; even a cordial
offering of the hand and the flattering appellation of "mon fils,"
pronounced in that caressing tone with which Monsieur had, of late days
especially, been accustomed to address me, did not elicit any external
sign of the feeling which, though subdued, still glowed at my heart. Not
that I nursed vengeance—no; but the sense of insult and treachery
lived in me like a kindling, though as yet smothered coal. God knows I am
not by nature vindictive; I would not hurt a man because I can no longer
trust or like him; but neither my reason nor feelings are of the
vacillating order—they are not of that sand-like sort where
impressions, if soon made, are as soon effaced. Once convinced that my
friend's disposition is incompatible with my own, once assured that he is
indelibly stained with certain defects obnoxious to my principles, and I
dissolve the connection. I did so with Edward. As to Pelet, the discovery
was yet new; should I act thus with him? It was the question I placed
before my mind as I stirred my cup of coffee with a half-pistolet (we
never had spoons), Pelet meantime being seated opposite, his pallid face
looking as knowing and more haggard than usual, his blue eye turned, now
sternly on his boys and ushers, and now graciously on me.</p>
<p>"Circumstances must guide me," said I; and meeting Pelet's false glance
and insinuating smile, I thanked heaven that I had last night opened my
window and read by the light of a full moon the true meaning of that
guileful countenance. I felt half his master, because the reality of his
nature was now known to me; smile and flatter as he would, I saw his soul
lurk behind his smile, and heard in every one of his smooth phrases a
voice interpreting their treacherous import.</p>
<p>But Zoraide Reuter? Of course her defection had cut me to the quick? That
stint; must have gone too deep for any consolations of philosophy to be
available in curing its smart? Not at all. The night fever over, I looked
about for balm to that wound also, and found some nearer home than at
Gilead. Reason was my physician; she began by proving that the prize I had
missed was of little value: she admitted that, physically, Zoraide might
have suited me, but affirmed that our souls were not in harmony, and that
discord must have resulted from the union of her mind with mine. She then
insisted on the suppression of all repining, and commanded me rather to
rejoice that I had escaped a snare. Her medicament did me good. I felt its
strengthening effect when I met the directress the next day; its stringent
operation on the nerves suffered no trembling, no faltering; it enabled me
to face her with firmness, to pass her with ease. She had held out her
hand to me—that I did not choose to see. She had greeted me with a
charming smile—it fell on my heart like light on stone. I passed on
to the estrade, she followed me; her eye, fastened on my face, demanded of
every feature the meaning of my changed and careless manner. "I will give
her an answer," thought I; and, meeting her gaze full, arresting, fixing
her glance, I shot into her eyes, from my own, a look, where there was no
respect, no love, no tenderness, no gallantry; where the strictest
analysis could detect nothing but scorn, hardihood, irony. I made her bear
it, and feel it; her steady countenance did not change, but her colour
rose, and she approached me as if fascinated. She stepped on to the
estrade, and stood close by my side; she had nothing to say. I would not
relieve her embarrassment, and negligently turned over the leaves of a
book.</p>
<p>"I hope you feel quite recovered to-day," at last she said, in a low tone.</p>
<p>"And I, mademoiselle, hope that you took no cold last night in consequence
of your late walk in the garden."</p>
<p>Quick enough of comprehension, she understood me directly; her face became
a little blanched—a very little—but no muscle in her rather
marked features moved; and, calm and self-possessed, she retired from the
estrade, taking her seat quietly at a little distance, and occupying
herself with netting a purse. I proceeded to give my lesson; it was a
"Composition," i.e., I dictated certain general questions, of which the
pupils were to compose the answers from memory, access to books being
forbidden. While Mdlle. Eulalie, Hortense, Caroline, &c., were
pondering over the string of rather abstruse grammatical interrogatories I
had propounded, I was at liberty to employ the vacant half hour in further
observing the directress herself. The green silk purse was progressing
fast in her hands; her eyes were bent upon it; her attitude, as she sat
netting within two yards of me, was still yet guarded; in her whole person
were expressed at once, and with equal clearness, vigilance and repose—a
rare union! Looking at her, I was forced, as I had often been before, to
offer her good sense, her wondrous self-control, the tribute of
involuntary admiration. She had felt that I had withdrawn from her my
esteem; she had seen contempt and coldness in my eye, and to her, who
coveted the approbation of all around her, who thirsted after universal
good opinion, such discovery must have been an acute wound. I had
witnessed its effect in the momentary pallor of her cheek-cheek unused to
vary; yet how quickly, by dint of self-control, had she recovered her
composure! With what quiet dignity she now sat, almost at my side,
sustained by her sound and vigorous sense; no trembling in her somewhat
lengthened, though shrewd upper lip, no coward shame on her austere
forehead!</p>
<p>"There is metal there," I said, as I gazed. "Would that there were fire
also, living ardour to make the steel glow—then I could love her."</p>
<p>Presently I discovered that she knew I was watching her, for she stirred
not, she lifted not her crafty eyelid; she had glanced down from her
netting to her small foot, peeping from the soft folds of her purple
merino gown; thence her eye reverted to her hand, ivory white, with a
bright garnet ring on the forefinger, and a light frill of lace round the
wrist; with a scarcely perceptible movement she turned her head, causing
her nut-brown curls to wave gracefully. In these slight signs I read that
the wish of her heart, the design of her brain, was to lure back the game
she had scared. A little incident gave her the opportunity of addressing
me again.</p>
<p>While all was silence in the class—silence, but for the rustling of
copy-books and the travelling of pens over their pages—a leaf of the
large folding-door, opening from the hall, unclosed, admitting a pupil
who, after making a hasty obeisance, ensconced herself with some
appearance of trepidation, probably occasioned by her entering so late, in
a vacant seat at the desk nearest the door. Being seated, she proceeded,
still with an air of hurry and embarrassment, to open her cabas, to take
out her books; and, while I was waiting for her to look up, in order to
make out her identity—for, shortsighted as I was, I had not
recognized her at her entrance—Mdlle. Reuter, leaving her chair,
approached the estrade.</p>
<p>"Monsieur Creemsvort," said she, in a whisper: for when the schoolrooms
were silent, the directress always moved with velvet tread, and spoke in
the most subdued key, enforcing order and stillness fully as much by
example as precept: "Monsieur Creemsvort, that young person, who has just
entered, wishes to have the advantage of taking lessons with you in
English; she is not a pupil of the house; she is, indeed, in one sense, a
teacher, for she gives instruction in lace-mending, and in little
varieties of ornamental needle-work. She very properly proposes to qualify
herself for a higher department of education, and has asked permission to
attend your lessons, in order to perfect her knowledge of English, in
which language she has, I believe, already made some progress; of course
it is my wish to aid her in an effort so praiseworthy; you will permit her
then to benefit by your instruction—n'est ce pas, monsieur?" And
Mdlle. Reuter's eyes were raised to mine with a look at once naive,
benign, and beseeching.</p>
<p>I replied, "Of course," very laconically, almost abruptly.</p>
<p>"Another word," she said, with softness: "Mdlle. Henri has not received a
regular education; perhaps her natural talents are not of the highest
order: but I can assure you of the excellence of her intentions, and even
of the amiability of her disposition. Monsieur will then, I am sure, have
the goodness to be considerate with her at first, and not expose her
backwardness, her inevitable deficiencies, before the young ladies, who,
in a sense, are her pupils. Will Monsieur Creemsvort favour me by
attending to this hint?" I nodded. She continued with subdued earnestness—</p>
<p>"Pardon me, monsieur, if I venture to add that what I have just said is of
importance to the poor girl; she already experiences great difficulty in
impressing these giddy young things with a due degree of deference for her
authority, and should that difficulty be increased by new discoveries of
her incapacity, she might find her position in my establishment too
painful to be retained; a circumstance I should much regret for her sake,
as she can ill afford to lose the profits of her occupation here."</p>
<p>Mdlle. Reuter possessed marvellous tact; but tact the most exclusive,
unsupported by sincerity, will sometimes fail of its effect; thus, on this
occasion, the longer she preached about the necessity of being indulgent
to the governess pupil, the more impatient I felt as I listened. I
discerned so clearly that while her professed motive was a wish to aid the
dull, though well-meaning Mdlle. Henri, her real one was no other than a
design to impress me with an idea of her own exalted goodness and tender
considerateness; so having again hastily nodded assent to her remarks, I
obviated their renewal by suddenly demanding the compositions, in a sharp
accent, and stepping from the estrade, I proceeded to collect them. As I
passed the governess-pupil, I said to her—</p>
<p>"You have come in too late to receive a lesson to-day; try to be more
punctual next time."</p>
<p>I was behind her, and could not read in her face the effect of my not very
civil speech. Probably I should not have troubled myself to do so, had I
been full in front; but I observed that she immediately began to slip her
books into her cabas again; and, presently, after I had returned to the
estrade, while I was arranging the mass of compositions, I heard the
folding-door again open and close; and, on looking up, I perceived her
place vacant. I thought to myself, "She will consider her first attempt at
taking a lesson in English something of a failure;" and I wondered whether
she had departed in the sulks, or whether stupidity had induced her to
take my words too literally, or, finally, whether my irritable tone had
wounded her feelings. The last notion I dismissed almost as soon as I had
conceived it, for not having seen any appearance of sensitiveness in any
human face since my arrival in Belgium, I had begun to regard it almost as
a fabulous quality. Whether her physiognomy announced it I could not tell,
for her speedy exit had allowed me no time to ascertain the circumstance.
I had, indeed, on two or three previous occasions, caught a passing view
of her (as I believe has been mentioned before); but I had never stopped
to scrutinize either her face or person, and had but the most vague idea
of her general appearance. Just as I had finished rolling up the
compositions, the four o'clock bell rang; with my accustomed alertness in
obeying that signal, I grasped my hat and evacuated the premises.</p>
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