Over the mantelpiece, in a large gilded frame, was a written document, entitled in flamboyant Gothic lettering, Tableau d'Honneur, with a long array of names underneath, among which I did not have the pleasure of finding that of Jeanne Alexandre.After having read over several times the names of those girl-pupils who had thus made themselves honoured in the eyes of Mademoiselle Prefere, I began to feel uneasy at not hearing any one coming.Mademoiselle Prefere would certainly have succeeded in establishing the absolute silence of interstellar spaces throughout her pedagogical domains, had it not been that the sparrows had chosen her yard 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 seeing them--through the ground-glass windows.I had to content myself with the sights of the parlour, decorated from floor to ceiling, on all of its four walls, with drawings executed by the pupils of the institution.
There were Vestals, flowers, thatched cottages, column-capitals, and an enormous head of Tatius, King of the Sabines, bearing the signature Estelle Mouton.
I had already passed some time in admiring the energy with which Mademoiselle Mouton had delineated the bushy eyebrows and the fierce gaze of the antique warrior, when a sound, faint like the rustling of a dead leaf moved by the wind, caused me to turn my head.It was not a dead leaf at all--it was Mademoiselle Prefere.With hands jointed before her, she came gliding over the mirror-polish of that wonderful floor as the Saints of the Golden Legend were wont to glide over the crystal surface of the waters.But upon any other occasion, I am sure, Mademoiselle Prefere would not have made me think in the least about those virgins dear to mystical fancy.Her face rather gave me the idea of a russet-apple preserved or a whole winter in an attic by some economical housekeeper.Her shoulders were covered with a fringed pelerine, which had nothing at all remarkable about it, but which she wore as if it were a sacerdotal vestment, or the symbol of some high civic function.
I explained to her the purpose of my visit, and gave her my letter of introduction.
"Ah!--so you are Monsieur Mouche!" she exclaimed."Is his health VERY good? He is the most upright of men, the most---"She did not finish the phrase, but raised her eyes to the ceiling.
My own followed the direction of their gaze, and observed a little spiral of paper lace, suspended from the place of the chandelier, which was apparently destined, so far as I could discover, to attract the flies away from the gilded mirror-frames and the Tableau d'Honneur.
"I have met Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre," I observed, "at the residence of Madame de Gabry and had reason to appreciate the excellent character and quick intelligence of the young girl.As I used to know her parents very well, the friendship which I felt for them naturally inclines 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 the paper spiral.
At last she observed, "Since you were once the friend of Monsieur and Madame Alexandre, Ihope and trust that, like Monsieur Mouche and myself, you deplore those crazy speculations which led them to ruin, and reduced their daughter to absolute poverty!"I thought to myself, on hearing these words, how very wrong it is to be unlucky, and how unpardonable such an error on the part of those previously in a position worthy of envy.Their fall at once avenges and flatters us; and we are wholly pitiless.
After having answered, very frankly, that I knew nothing whatever about the history of the bank, I asked the schoolmistress if she was satisfied with Mademoiselle Alexandre.
"That child is indomitable!" cried Mademoiselle Prefere.
And she assumed an attitude of lofty resignation, to symbolise the difficult 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 to learn things by rule."What a strange old maid was this Mademoiselle Prefere! She walked without lifting her legs, and spoke without moving her lips! Without, however, considering her peculiarities for more than a reasonable instant, I replied that principles were, no doubt, very excellent things, and that I could trust myself to her judgement in regard to their value; but that, after all, when one had learned something, it very little difference what method had been followed in the learning of it.
Mademoiselle made a slow gesture of dissent.Then with a sigh, she declared, "Ah, Monsieur! those who do not understand educational methods are apt to have very false ideas on these subjects.I am certain they express their opinions with the best intentions in the world; but they would do better, a great deal better, to leave all such questions to competent people."I did not attempt to argue further; and simply asked her whether Icould see Mademoiselle Alexandre at once.
She looked at her pelerine, as if trying to read in the entanglements of its fringes, as in a conjuring book, what sort of answer she ought to make; then said, "Mademoiselle Alexandre has a penance to perform, and a class-lesson to give; but I should be very sorry to let you put yourself to the trouble of coming here all to no purpose.I am going to send for her.
Only first allow 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 out Maitre Mouche's letter again from under her pelerine, where she had placed it, looked at it, and began to write.
