CHAPTER XIII.
A SNEEZE OUT OF SEASON.
I had occasion to smile--nay, to laugh, at Madame again, within thespace of four and twenty hours after the little scene treated of in thelast chapter.
Villette owns a climate as variable, though not so humid, as that ofany English town. A night of high wind followed upon that soft sunset,and all the next day was one of dry storm--dark, beclouded, yetrainless,--the streets were dim with sand and dust, whirled from theboulevards. I know not that even lovely weather would have tempted meto spend the evening-time of study and recreation where I had spent ityesterday. My alley, and, indeed, all the walks and shrubs in thegarden, had acquired a new, but not a pleasant interest; theirseclusion was now become precarious; their calm--insecure. Thatcasement which rained billets, had vulgarized the once dear nook itoverlooked; and elsewhere, the eyes of the flowers had gained vision,and the knots in the tree-boles listened like secret ears. Some plantsthere were, indeed, trodden down by Dr. John in his search, and hishasty and heedless progress, which I wished to prop up, water, andrevive; some footmarks, too, he had left on the beds: but these, inspite of the strong wind, I found a moment's leisure to efface veryearly in the morning, ere common eyes had discovered them. With apensive sort of content, I sat down to my desk and my German, while thepupils settled to their evening lessons; and the other teachers took uptheir needlework.
The scene of the "etude du soir" was always the refectory, a muchsmaller apartment than any of the three classes or schoolrooms; forhere none, save the boarders, were ever admitted, and these numberedonly a score. Two lamps hung from the ceiling over the two tables;these were lit at dusk, and their kindling was the signal forschool-books being set aside, a grave demeanour assumed, generalsilence enforced, and then commenced "la lecture pieuse." This said"lecture pieuse" was, I soon found, mainly designed as a wholesomemortification of the Intellect, a useful humiliation of the Reason; andsuch a dose for Common Sense as she might digest at her leisure, andthrive on as she best could.
The book brought out (it was never changed, but when finished,recommenced) was a venerable volume, old as the hills--grey as theHotel de Ville.
I would have given two francs for the chance of getting that book onceinto my hands, turning over the sacred yellow leaves, ascertaining thetitle, and perusing with my own eyes the enormous figments which, as anunworthy heretic, it was only permitted me to drink in with mybewildered ears. This book contained legends of the saints. Good God!(I speak the words reverently) what legends they were. What gasconadingrascals those saints must have been, if they first boasted theseexploits or invented these miracles. These legends, however, were nomore than monkish extravagances, over which one laughed inwardly; therewere, besides, priestly matters, and the priestcraft of the book wasfar worse than its monkery. The ears burned on each side of my head asI listened, perforce, to tales of moral martyrdom inflicted by Rome;the dread boasts of confessors, who had wickedly abused their office,trampling to deep degradation high-born ladies, making of countessesand princesses the most tormented slaves under the sun. Stories likethat of Conrad and Elizabeth of Hungary, recurred again and again, withall its dreadful viciousness, sickening tyranny and black impiety:tales that were nightmares of oppression, privation, and agony.
I sat out this "lecture pieuse" for some nights as well as I could, andas quietly too; only once breaking off the points of my scissors byinvoluntarily sticking them somewhat deep in the worm-eaten board ofthe table before me. But, at last, it made me so burning hot, and mytemples, and my heart, and my wrist throbbed so fast, and my sleepafterwards was so broken with excitement, that I could sit no longer.Prudence recommended henceforward a swift clearance of my person fromthe place, the moment that guilty old book was brought out. No MauseHeadrigg ever felt a stronger call to take up her testimony againstSergeant Bothwell, than I--to speak my mind in this matter of thepopish "lecture pieuse." However, I did manage somehow to curb and reinin; and though always, as soon as Rosine came to light the lamps, Ishot from the room quickly, yet also I did it quietly; seizing thatvantage moment given by the little bustle before the dead silence, andvanishing whilst the boarders put their books away.
When I vanished--it was into darkness; candles were not allowed to becarried about, and the teacher who forsook the refectory, had only theunlit hall, schoolroom, or bedroom, as a refuge. In winter I sought thelong classes, and paced them fast to keep myself warm--fortunate if themoon shone, and if there were only stars, soon reconciled to their dimgleam, or even to the total eclipse of their absence. In summer it wasnever quite dark, and then I went up-stairs to my own quarter of thelong dormitory, opened my own casement (that chamber was lit by fivecasements large as great doors), and leaning out, looked forth upon thecity beyond the garden, and listened to band-music from the park or thepalace-square, thinking meantime my own thoughts, living my own life,in my own still, shadow-world.
This evening, fugitive as usual before the Pope and his works, Imounted the staircase, approached the dormitory, and quietly opened thedoor, which was always kept carefully shut, and which, like every otherdoor in this house, revolved noiselessly on well-oiled hinges. Before I_saw_, I _felt_ that life was in the great room, usually void: not thatthere was either stir or breath, or rustle of sound, but Vacuum lacked,Solitude was not at home. All the white beds--the "lits d'ange," asthey were poetically termed--lay visible at a glance; all were empty:no sleeper reposed therein. The sound of a drawer cautiously slid outstruck my ear; stepping a little to one side, my vision took a freerange, unimpeded by falling curtains. I now commanded my own bed and myown toilet, with a locked work-box upon it, and locked drawersunderneath.
Very good. A dumpy, motherly little body, in decent shawl and thecleanest of possible nightcaps, stood before this toilet, hard at workapparently doing me the kindness of "tidying out" the "meuble." Openstood the lid of the work-box, open the top drawer; duly andimpartially was each succeeding drawer opened in turn: not an articleof their contents but was lifted and unfolded, not a paper but wasglanced over, not a little box but was unlidded; and beautiful was theadroitness, exemplary the care with which the search was accomplished.Madame wrought at it like a true star, "unhasting yet unresting." Iwill not deny that it was with a secret glee I watched her. Had I beena gentleman I believe Madame would have found favour in my eyes, shewas so handy, neat, thorough in all she did: some people's movementsprovoke the soul by their loose awkwardness, hers--satisfied by theirtrim compactness. I stood, in short, fascinated; but it was necessaryto make an effort to break this spell a retreat must be beaten. Thesearcher might have turned and caught me; there would have been nothingfor it then but a scene, and she and I would have had to come all atonce, with a sudden clash, to a thorough knowledge of each other: downwould have gone conventionalities, away swept disguises, and _I_ shouldhave looked into her eyes, and she into mine--we should have known thatwe could work together no more, and parted in this life for ever.
Where was the use of tempting such a catastrophe? I was not angry, andhad no wish in the world to leave her. I could hardly get anotheremployer whose yoke would be so light and so, easy of carriage; andtruly I liked Madame for her capital sense, whatever I might think ofher principles: as to her system, it did me no harm; she might work mewith it to her heart's content: nothing would come of the operation.Loverless and inexpectant of love, I was as safe from spies in myheart-poverty, as the beggar from thieves in his destitution of purse.I turned, then, and fled; descending the stairs with progress as swiftand soundless as that of the spider, which at the same instant ran downthe bannister.
How I laughed when I reached the schoolroom. I knew now she hadcertainly seen Dr. John in the garden; I knew what her thoughts were.The spectacle of a suspicious nature so far misled by its owninventions, tickled me much. Yet as the laugh died, a kind of wrathsmote me, and then bitterness followed: it was the rock struck, andMeribah's waters gushing out. I never had felt so strange andcontradictory an inward tumult as I felt
for an hour that evening:soreness and laughter, and fire, and grief, shared my heart betweenthem. I cried hot tears: not because Madame mistrusted me--I did notcare twopence for her mistrust--but for other reasons. Complicated,disquieting thoughts broke up the whole repose of my nature. However,that turmoil subsided: next day I was again Lucy Snowe.
On revisiting my drawers, I found them all securely locked; the closestsubsequent examination could not discover change or apparentdisturbance in the position of one object. My few dresses were foldedas I had left them; a certain little bunch of white violets that hadonce been silently presented to me by a stranger (a stranger to me, forwe had never exchanged words), and which I had dried and kept for itssweet perfume between the folds of my best dress, lay there unstirred;my black silk scarf, my lace chemisette and collars, were unrumpled.Had she creased one solitary article, I own I should have felt muchgreater difficulty in forgiving her; but finding all straight andorderly, I said, "Let bygones be bygones. I am unharmed: why should Ibear malice?"
* * * * *
A thing there was which puzzled myself, and I sought in my brain a keyto that riddle almost as sedulously as Madame had sought a guide touseful knowledge in my toilet drawers. How was it that Dr. John, if hehad not been accessory to the dropping of that casket into the garden,should have known that it _was_ dropped, and appeared so promptly onthe spot to seek it? So strong was the wish to clear up this point thatI began to entertain this daring suggestion: "Why may I not, in case Ishould ever have the opportunity, ask Dr. John himself to explain thiscoincidence?"
And so long as Dr. John was absent, I really believed I had courage totest him with such a question.
Little Georgette was now convalescent; and her physician accordinglymade his visits very rare: indeed, he would have ceased themaltogether, had not Madame insisted on his giving an occasional calltill the child should be quite well.
She came into the nursery one evening just after I had listened toGeorgette's lisped and broken prayer, and had put her to bed. Takingthe little one's hand, she said, "Cette enfant a toujours un peu defievre." And presently afterwards, looking at me with a quicker glancethan was habitual to her quiet eye, "Le Docteur John l'a-t-il vuedernierement? Non, n'est-ce pas?"
Of course she knew this better than any other person in the house."Well," she continued, "I am going out, pour faire quelques courses enfiacre. I shall call on Dr. John, and send him to the child. I willthat he sees her this evening; her cheeks are flushed, her pulse isquick; _you_ will receive him--for my part, I shall be from home."
Now the child was well enough, only warm with the warmth of July; itwas scarcely less needful to send for a priest to administer extremeunction than for a doctor to prescribe a dose; also Madame rarely made"courses," as she called them, in the evening: moreover, this was thefirst time she had chosen to absent herself on the occasion of a visitfrom Dr. John. The whole arrangement indicated some plan; this I saw,but without the least anxiety. "Ha! ha! Madame," laughed Light-heartthe Beggar, "your crafty wits are on the wrong tack."
She departed, attired very smartly, in a shawl of price, and a certain_chapeau vert tendre_--hazardous, as to its tint, for any complexionless fresh than her own, but, to her, not unbecoming. I wondered whatshe intended: whether she really would send Dr. John or not; or whetherindeed he would come: he might be engaged.
Madame had charged me not to let Georgette sleep till the doctor came;I had therefore sufficient occupation in telling her nursery tales andpalavering the little language for her benefit. I affected Georgette;she was a sensitive and a loving child: to hold her in my lap, or carryher in my arms, was to me a treat. To-night she would have me lay myhead on the pillow of her crib; she even put her little arms round myneck. Her clasp, and the nestling action with which she pressed hercheek to mine, made me almost cry with a tender pain. Feeling of nokind abounded in that house; this pure little drop from a pure littlesource was too sweet: it penetrated deep, and subdued the heart, andsent a gush to the eyes. Half an hour or an hour passed; Georgettemurmured in her soft lisp that she was growing sleepy. "And you _shall_sleep," thought I, "malgre maman and medecin, if they are not here inten minutes."
Hark! There was the ring, and there the tread, astonishing thestaircase by the fleetness with which it left the steps behind. Rosineintroduced Dr. John, and, with a freedom of manner not altogetherpeculiar to herself, but characteristic of the domestics of Villettegenerally, she stayed to hear what he had to say. Madame's presencewould have awed her back to her own realm of the vestibule and thecabinet--for mine, or that of any other teacher or pupil, she cared nota jot. Smart, trim and pert, she stood, a hand in each pocket of hergay grisette apron, eyeing Dr. John with no more fear or shyness thanif he had been a picture instead of a living gentleman.
"Le marmot n'a rien, nest-ce pas?" said she, indicating Georgette witha jerk of her chin.
"Pas beaucoup," was the answer, as the doctor hastily scribbled withhis pencil some harmless prescription.
"Eh bien!" pursued Rosine, approaching him quite near, while he put uphis pencil. "And the box--did you get it? Monsieur went off like acoup-de-vent the other night; I had not time to ask him."
"I found it: yes."
"And who threw it, then?" continued Rosine, speaking quite freely thevery words I should so much have wished to say, but had no address orcourage to bring it out: how short some people make the road to a pointwhich, for others, seems unattainable!
"That may be my secret," rejoined Dr. John briefly, but with no sortof hauteur: he seemed quite to understand the Rosine or grisettecharacter.
"Mais enfin," continued she, nothing abashed, "monsieur knew it wasthrown, since he came to seek it--how did he know?"
"I was attending a little patient in the college near," said he, "andsaw it dropped out of his chamber window, and so came to pick it up."
How simple the whole explanation! The note had alluded to a physicianas then examining "Gustave."
"Ah ca!" pursued Rosine; "il n'y a donc rien la-dessous: pas demystere, pas d'amourette, par exemple?"
"Pas plus que sur ma main," responded the doctor, showing his palm.
"Quel dommage!" responded the grisette: "et moi--a qui tout celacommencait a donner des idees."
"Vraiment! vous en etes pour vos frais," was the doctor's coolrejoinder.
She pouted. The doctor could not help laughing at the sort of "moue"she made: when he laughed, he had something peculiarly good-natured andgenial in his look. I saw his hand incline to his pocket.
"How many times have you opened the door for me within this lastmonth?" he asked.
"Monsieur ought to have kept count of that," said Rosine, quite readily.
"As if I had not something better to do!" rejoined he; but I saw himgive her a piece of gold, which she took unscrupulously, and thendanced off to answer the door-bell, ringing just now every fiveminutes, as the various servants came to fetch the half-boarders.
The reader must not think too hardly of Rosine; on the whole, she wasnot a bad sort of person, and had no idea there could be any disgracein grasping at whatever she could get, or any effrontery in chatteringlike a pie to the best gentleman in Christendom.
I had learnt something from the above scene besides what concerned theivory box: viz., that not on the robe de jaconas, pink or grey, nor yeton the frilled and pocketed apron, lay the blame of breaking Dr. John'sheart: these items of array were obviously guiltless as Georgette'slittle blue tunic. So much the better. But who then was the culprit?What was the ground--what the origin--what the perfect explanation ofthe whole business? Some points had been cleared, but how many yetremained obscure as night!
"However," I said to myself, "it is no affair of yours;" and turningfrom the face on which I had been unconsciously dwelling with aquestioning gaze, I looked through the window which commanded thegarden below. Dr. John, meantime, standing by the bed-side, was slowlydrawing on his gloves and watching his little patient, as her eyesclosed and
her rosy lips parted in coming sleep. I waited till heshould depart as usual, with a quick bow and scarce articulate"good-night.". Just as he took his hat, my eyes, fixed on the tallhouses bounding the garden, saw the one lattice, already commemorated,cautiously open; forth from the aperture projected a hand and a whitehandkerchief; both waved. I know not whether the signal was answeredfrom some viewless quarter of our own dwelling; but immediately afterthere fluttered from, the lattice a falling object, white andlight--billet the second, of course.
"There!" I ejaculated involuntarily.
"Where?", asked Dr. John with energy, making direct for the window."What, is it?"
"They have gone and done it again," was my reply. "A handkerchief wavedand something fell:" and I pointed to the lattice, now closed andlooking hypocritically blank.
"Go, at once; pick it up and bring it here," was his prompt direction;adding, "Nobody will take notice of _you: I_ should be seen."
Straight I went. After some little search, I found a folded paper,lodged on the lower branch of a shrub; I seized and brought it directto Dr. John. This time, I believe not even Rosine saw me.
He instantly tore the billet into small pieces, without reading it. "Itis not in the least _her_ fault, you must remember," he said, lookingat me.
"_Whose_ fault?" I asked. "_Who_ is it?"
"You don't yet know, then?"
"Not in the least."
"Have you no guess?"
"None."
"If I knew you better, I might be tempted to risk some confidence, andthus secure you as guardian over a most innocent and excellent, butsomewhat inexperienced being."
"As a duenna?" I asked.
"Yes," said he abstractedly. "What snares are round her!" he added,musingly: and now, certainly for the first time, he examined my face,anxious, doubtless, to see if any kindly expression there, wouldwarrant him in recommending to my care and indulgence some etherealcreature, against whom powers of darkness were plotting. I felt noparticular vocation to undertake the surveillance of etherealcreatures; but recalling the scene at the bureau, it seemed to me thatI owed _him_ a good turn: if I _could_ help him then I would, and itlay not with me to decide how. With as little reluctance as might be, Iintimated that "I was willing to do what I could towards taking care ofany person in whom he might be interested.".
"I am no farther interested than as a spectator," said he, with amodesty, admirable, as I thought, to witness. "I happen to beacquainted with the rather worthless character of the person, who, fromthe house opposite, has now twice invaded the sanctity of this place; Ihave also met in society the object at whom these vulgar attempts areaimed. Her exquisite superiority and innate refinement ought, one wouldthink, to scare impertinence from her very idea. It is not so, however;and innocent, unsuspicious as she is, I would guard her from evil if Icould. In person, however, I can do nothing I cannot come near her"--hepaused.
"Well, I am willing to help you," said I, "only tell me how." Andbusily, in my own mind, I ran over the list of our inmates, seekingthis paragon, this pearl of great price, this gem without flaw. "Itmust be Madame," I concluded. "_She_ only, amongst us all, has the arteven to _seem_ superior: but as to being unsuspicious, inexperienced,&c., Dr. John need not distract himself about that. However, this isjust his whim, and I will not contradict him; he shall be humoured: hisangel shall be an angel.
"Just notify the quarter to which my care is to be directed," Icontinued gravely: chuckling, however, to myself over the thought ofbeing set to chaperon Madame Beck or any of her pupils. Now Dr. Johnhad a fine set of nerves, and he at once felt by instinct, what no morecoarsely constituted mind would have detected; namely, that I was alittle amused at him. The colour rose to his cheek; with half a smilehe turned and took his hat--he was going. My heart smote me.
"I will--I will help you," said I eagerly. "I will do what you wish. Iwill watch over your angel; I will take care of her, only tell me whoshe is."
"But you _must_ know," said he then with earnestness, yet speaking verylow. "So spotless, so good, so unspeakably beautiful! impossible thatone house should contain two like her. I allude, of course--"
Here the latch of Madame Beck's chamber-door (opening into the nursery)gave a sudden click, as if the hand holding it had been slightlyconvulsed; there was the suppressed explosion of an irrepressiblesneeze. These little accidents will happen to the best of us.Madame--excellent woman! was then on duty. She had come home quietly,stolen up-stairs on tip-toe; she was in her chamber. If she had notsneezed, she would have heard all, and so should I; but that unluckysternutation routed Dr. John. While he stood aghast, she came forwardalert, composed, in the best yet most tranquil spirits: no novice toher habits but would have thought she had just come in, and scouted theidea of her ear having been glued to the key-hole for at least tenminutes. She affected to sneeze again, declared she was "enrhumee," andthen proceeded volubly to recount her "courses en fiacre." Theprayer-bell rang, and I left her with the doctor.