Part 46 (1/2)
I smiled; but I also hushed a groan. Oh!-I just wished he would let me alone-cease allusion to me. These epithets-these attributes I put from me. His ”quiet Lucy Snowe,” his ”inoffensive shadow,” I gave him back; not with scorn, but with extreme weariness: theirs was the coldness and the pressure of lead; let him whelm me with no such weight. Happily, he was soon on another theme.
”On what terms were 'little Polly' and I? Unless my recollections deceive me, we were not foes-”
”You speak very vaguely. Do you think little Polly's memory, not more definite?”
”Oh! we don't talk of 'little Polly' now. Pray say, Miss de Ba.s.sompierre; and, of course, such a stately personage remembers nothing of Bretton. Look at her large eyes, Lucy; can they read a word in the page of memory? Are they the same which I used to direct to a horn-book? She does not know that I partly taught her to read.”
”In the Bible on Sunday nights?”
”She has a calm, delicate, rather fine profile now: once what a little restless, anxious countenance was hers! What a thing is a child's preference-what a bubble! Would you believe it? that lady was fond of me!”
”I think she was in some measure fond of you,” said I, moderately.
”You don't remember then? I had forgotten; but I remember now. She liked me the best of whatever there was at Bretton.”
”You thought so.”
”I quite well recall it. I wish I could tell her all I recall; or rather, I wish some one, you for instance, would go behind and whisper it all in her ear, and I could have the delight-here, as I sit-of watching her look under the intelligence. Could you manage that, think you, Lucy, and make me ever grateful?”
”Could I manage to make you ever grateful?” said I. ”No, I could not.” And I felt my fingers work and my hands interlock: I felt, too, an inward courage, warm and resistant. In this matter I was not disposed to gratify Dr. John: not at all. With now welcome force, I realized his entire misapprehension of my character and nature. He wanted always to give me a role not mine. Nature and I opposed him. He did not at all guess what I felt: he did not read my eyes, or face, or gestures; though, I doubt not, all spoke. Leaning towards me coaxingly, he said, softly, ”Do content me, Lucy.”
And I would have contented, or, at least, I would clearly have enlightened him, and taught him well never again to expect of me the part of officious soubrette in a love drama; when, following his, soft, eager, murmur, meeting almost his pleading, mellow-”Do content me, Lucy!” a sharp hiss pierced my ear on the other side.
”Pet.i.te chatte, doucerette, coquette!” sibillated the sudden boa-constrictor; ”vous avez l'air bien triste, soumis, reveur, mais vous ne l'etes pas: c'est moi qui vous le dis: Sauvage! la flamme a l'ame, l'eclair aux yeux!”
”Oui; j'ai la flamme a l'ame, et je dois l'avoir!” retorted I, turning in just wrath: but Professor Emanuel had hissed his insult and was gone.
The worst of the matter was, that Dr. Bretton, whose ears, as I have said, were quick and fine, caught every word of this apostrophe; he put his handkerchief to his face, and laughed till he shook.
”Well done, Lucy,” cried he; ”capital! pet.i.te chatte, pet.i.te coquette! Oh, I must tell my mother! Is it true, Lucy, or half-true? I believe it is: you redden to the colour of Miss Fanshawe's gown. And really, by my word, now I examine him, that is the same little man who was so savage with you at the concert: the very same, and in his soul he is frantic at this moment because he sees me laughing. Oh! I must tease him.”
And Graham, yielding to his bent for mischief, laughed, jested, and whispered on till I could bear no more, and my eyes filled.
Suddenly he was sobered: a vacant s.p.a.ce appeared near Miss de Ba.s.sompierre; the circle surrounding her seemed about to dissolve. This movement was instantly caught by Graham's eye-ever-vigilant, even while laughing; he rose, took his courage in both hands, crossed the room, and made the advantage his own. Dr. John, throughout his whole life, was a man of luck-a man of success. And why? Because he had the eye to see his opportunity, the heart to prompt to well-timed action, the nerve to consummate a perfect work. And no tyrant-pa.s.sion dragged him back; no enthusiasms, no foibles enc.u.mbered his way. How well he looked at this very moment! When Paulina looked up as he reached her side, her glance mingled at once with an encountering glance, animated, yet modest; his colour, as he spoke to her, became half a blush, half a glow. He stood in her presence brave and bashful: subdued and un.o.btrusive, yet decided in his purpose and devoted in his ardour. I gathered all this by one view. I did not prolong my observation-time failed me, had inclination served: the night wore late; Ginevra and I ought already to have been in the Rue Fossette. I rose, and bade good-night to my G.o.dmother and M. de Ba.s.sompierre.
I know not whether Professor Emanuel had noticed my reluctant acceptance of Dr. Bretton's badinage, or whether he perceived that I was pained, and that, on the whole, the evening had not been one flow of exultant enjoyment for the volatile, pleasure-loving Mademoiselle Lucie; but, as I was leaving the room, he stepped up and inquired whether I had any one to attend me to the Rue Fossette. The professor now spoke politely, and even deferentially, and he looked apologetic and repentant; but I could not recognise his civility at a word, nor meet his contrition with crude, premature oblivion. Never hitherto had I felt seriously disposed to resent his brusqueries, or freeze before his fierceness; what he had said to-night, however, I considered unwarranted: my extreme disapprobation of the proceeding must be marked, however slightly. I merely said:-”I am provided with attendance.”
Which was true, as Ginevra and I were to be sent home in the carriage; and I pa.s.sed him with the sliding obeisance with which he was wont to be saluted in cla.s.se by pupils crossing his estrade.
Having sought my shawl, I returned to the vestibule. M. Emanuel stood there as if waiting. He observed that the night was fine.
”Is it?” I said, with a tone and manner whose consummate chariness and frostiness I could not but applaud. It was so seldom I could properly act out my own resolution to be reserved and cool where I had been grieved or hurt, that I felt almost proud of this one successful effort. That ”Is it?” sounded just like the manner of other people. I had heard hundreds of such little minced, docked, dry phrases, from the pursed-up coral lips of a score of self-possessed, self-sufficing misses and mesdemoiselles. That M. Paul would not stand any prolonged experience of this sort of dialogue I knew; but he certainly merited a sample of the curt and arid. I believe he thought so himself, for he took the dose quietly. He looked at my shawl and objected to its lightness. I decidedly told him it was as heavy as I wished. Receding aloof, and standing apart, I leaned on the banister of the stairs, folded my shawl about me, and fixed my eyes on a dreary religious painting darkening the wall.
Ginevra was long in coming: tedious seemed her loitering. M. Paul was still there; my ear expected from his lips an angry tone. He came nearer. ”Now for another hiss!” thought I: had not the action been too uncivil I could have, stopped my ears with my fingers in terror of the thrill. Nothing happens as we expect: listen for a coo or a murmur; it is then you will hear a cry of prey or pain. Await a piercing shriek, an angry threat, and welcome an amicable greeting, a low kind whisper. M. Paul spoke gently:-”Friends,” said he, ”do not quarrel for a word. Tell me, was it I or ce grand fat d'Anglais” (so he profanely denominated Dr. Bretton), ”who made your eyes so humid, and your cheeks so hot as they are even now?”
”I am not conscious of you, monsieur, or of any other having excited such emotion as you indicate,” was my answer; and in giving it, I again surpa.s.sed my usual self, and achieved a neat, frosty falsehood.
”But what did I say?” he pursued; ”tell me: I was angry: I have forgotten my words; what were they?”
”Such as it is best to forget!” said I, still quite calm and chill.