 18. The Young Anglo-Swiss Evidently Derived Both Pleasure and Profit from the study of her mother tongue. In teaching her I did not, of course, confine myself to the ordinary school routine. I made instruction in English, a channel for instruction in literature. I prescribed to her a course of reading. She had a little selection of English classics, a few of which had been left her by her mother, and the others she had purchased with her own penny-fee. I lent her some more modern works, all these she read with avidity, giving me in writing a clear summary of each work when she had perused it. Composition, too, she delighted in. Such occupation seemed the very breath of her nostrils, and soon her improved productions rung from me the avowal that those qualities in her I had termed taste and fancy, ought rather to have been denominated judgment and imagination. When I intimated so much, which I did as usual in dry and stinted phrase, I looked for the radiant and exalting smile my one word of eulogy had elicited before. But France is coloured. If she did smile it was very softly and shyly, and instead of looking up to me with a conquering glance, her eyes rested on my hand, which stretched over her shoulder, was writing some directions with a pencil on the margin of her book. Well, are you pleased that I am satisfied with your progress? I asked. Yes, said she slowly, gently, the blush that had half subsided, returning. But I do not say enough, I suppose, I continued. My praises are too cool. She made no answer, and I thought looked a little sad. I divined her thoughts, and should much have liked to have responded to them, had it been expedient so to do. She was not now very ambitious of my admiration, not eagerly desirous of dazzling me. A little affection, ever so little, pleased her better than all the panegyrics in the world. Feeling this, I stood a good while behind her, writing on the margin of her book. I could hardly quit my station, or relinquish my occupation. Something retained me bending there, my head very near hers, and my hand near hers too. But the margin of a copy book is not an illimitable space. So doubtless the directorous thought, and she took occasion to walk past in order to ascertain by what art I prolonged so disproportionately the period necessary for filling it. I was obliged to go, distasteful effort to leave what we most prefer. Francis did not become pale or feeble in consequence of her sedentary employment. Perhaps the stimulus it communicated to her mind counterbalanced the inaction it imposed on her body. She changed, indeed changed obviously and rapidly, but it was for the better. When I first saw her her countenance was sunless, her complexion colourless. She looked like one who had no source of enjoyment, no store of bliss anywhere in the world. Now the cloud had passed from her mean, leaving space for the dawn of hope and interest, and those feelings rose like a clear morning, animating what had been depressed, tinting what had been pale. Her eyes, whose colour I had not at first known, so dim were they with repressed tears, so shadowed with ceaseless dejection. Now, lit by a ray of the sunshine that cheered her heart, revealed irids of bright hazel, irids large and full, screened with long lashes, and pupils instinct with fire. That look of one emaciation, which anxiety or low spirits often communicates to a thoughtful, thin face, rather long than round, having vanished from hers, a clearness of skin almost bloom and a plumpness almost embourn-puang softened the decided lines of her features. Her figure shared in this beneficial change. It became rounder, and as the harmony of her form was complete, and her stature of the graceful middle height, one did not regret, or at least I did not regret, the absence of confirmed fullness. In contours still slight, though compact, elegant, flexible, the exquisite turning of waist, wrist, hand, foot and ankle satisfied completely my notions of symmetry, and allowed a lightness and freedom of movement which corresponded with my ideas of grace. Thus improved, thus wakened to life, Mademoiselle Henri began to take a new footing in the school. Her mental power manifested gradually but steadily, her long extorted recognition even from the envious, and when the young and healthy saw that she could smile brightly, converse gaily, move with vivacity and alertness, they acknowledged in her a sisterhood of youth and health, and tolerated her as of their kind, accordingly. To speak truth I watched this change much as a gardener watches the growth of a precious plant, and I contributed to it too, even as the said gardener contributes to the development of his favourite. To me it was not difficult to discover how I could best foster my pupil, cherish her starved feelings, and induce the outward manifestation of that inward vigour which sunless drought and blighting blast had hitherto forbidden to expand. Constancy of attention, a kindness as mute as watchful, always standing by her, cloaked in the rough garb of austerity, and making its real notion known only by a rare glance of interest, or a cordial and gentle word. Real respect masked with seeming imperiousness, directing, urging her actions, yet helping her too, and that with devoted care. These were the means I used, for these means best suited Francis' feelings, as susceptible as deep vibrating, her nature at once proud and shy. The benefits of my system became apparent also in her altered demeanour as a teacher. She now took her place among her pupils with an air of spirit and firmness, which assured them at once that she meant to be obeyed. When obeyed she was, they felt they had lost their power over her. If any girl had rebelled, she would no longer have taken her rebellion to heart. She possessed a source of comfort they could not drain, a pillar of support they could not overthrow. Formerly when insulted she wept. Now she smiled. The public reading of one of her devoils achieved the revelation of her talents to all and sundry. I remember the subject. It was an emigrant's letter to his friends at home. It opened with simplicity. Some natural and graphic touches disclosed to the reader the scene of the virgin forest and great new world river, barren of sail and flag, amidst which the epistle was supposed to be indicted. The difficulties and dangers that attend a settler's life were hinted at. And in the few words said on that subject, Mademoiselle Henri failed not to render audible the voice of resolve, patience, endeavour. The disasters which had driven him from his native country were alluded to. Stainless honour, inflexible independence, indestructible self-respect there took the word. Past days were spoken of. The grief of parting, the regrets of absence were touched upon. Feeling forcible and fine, breathed eloquent in every period. At the close consolation was suggested. Religious faith became there the speaker, and she spoke well. The Devoir was powerfully written in language at once chased and choice, in a style nerved with vigor and graced with harmony. Mademoiselle Reuter was quite sufficiently acquainted with English to understand it when read or spoken in her presence, though she could neither speak nor write it herself. During the perusal of this Devoir she sat placidly busy, her eyes and fingers occupied with the formation of a rivière, or open-work hem round a cambrick handkerchief. She said nothing, and her face and forehead clothed with a mask of purely negative expression, whereas blank of comment as her lips. As neither surprise, pleasure, approbation, nor interest were evinced in her countenance, though no more were disdain, envy, annoyance, weariness. If that inscrutable mean said anything it was simply this. The matter is too trite to excite an emotion or call forth an opinion. As soon as I had done a hum rose, several of the pupils pressing round Mademoiselle Reuter began to beset her with compliments. The composed voice of the directress was now heard. Young ladies, such a view as have cloaks and umbrellas will hasten to return home before the shower becomes heavier. It was raining a little. The remainder will wait till their respective servants arrive to fetch them, and the school dispersed for it was four o'clock. Monsieur, a word, said Mademoiselle Reuter, stepping onto the estrade and signifying by a movement of the hand that she wished me to relinquish for an instant the caster I had clutched. Mademoiselle, I am at your service. Monsieur, it is of course an excellent plan to encourage effort in young people by making conspicuous the progress of any particularly industrious pupil. But do not think that in the present instance Mademoiselle Henri can hardly be considered as a concurrent with the other pupils. She is older than most of them and has had advantages of an exclusive nature for acquiring a knowledge of English. On the other hand, her sphere of life is somewhat beneath theirs. Under these circumstances a public distinction conferred upon Mademoiselle Henri may be the means of suggesting comparisons and exciting feelings such as would be far from advantageous to the individual forming their object. The interest I take in Mademoiselle Henri's real welfare makes me desirous of screening her from annoyances of this sort. Besides, Monsieur, as I have before hinted to you, the sentiment of amour propre has a somewhat marked preponderance in her character. Celebrity has a tendency to foster this sentiment and in her it should be rather repressed. She rather needs keeping down than bringing forward. And then I think, Monsieur, it appears to me that ambition, literary ambition especially, is not a feeling to be cherished in the mind of a woman. Would not Mademoiselle Henri be much safer and happier if taught to believe that in the quiet discharge of social duties consists a real vocation than if stimulated to aspire after applause and publicity? She may never marry. Scantiers are her resources, obscures are her connections, uncertain as is her health. For I think her consumptive, her mother died of that complaint. It is more than probable she never will. I do not see how she can rise to a position when such a step would be possible. But even in celibacy it would be better for her to retain the character and habits of a respectable, decorous female. Indisputably, Mademoiselle, was my answer, your opinion admits of no doubt. And fearful of the harangue being renewed, I retreated under cover of that cordial sentence of assent. At the date of a fortnight after the little incident noted above I find it recorded in my diary that a hiatus occurred in Mademoiselle Henri's usually regular attendance in class. The first day or two I wondered at her absence but did not like to ask an explanation of it. I thought indeed some chance word might be dropped which would afford me the information I wished to obtain without my running the risk of exciting silly smiles and gossiping whispers by demanding it. But when a week passed and the seat at the desk near the door still remained vacant and when no illusion was made to the circumstance by any individual of the class, when on the contrary I found that all observed a marked silence on the point, I determined cout qui cout to break the ice of this silly reserve. I selected Sylvie as my informant because from her I knew that I should at least get a sensible answer, unaccompanied by wriggle, titta or other flourish of folly. Où donc est Mademoiselle Henri? I asked one day as I returned an exercise book I had been examining. Elle est partie, monsieur. Partie? Et pour combien de temps? Quand reviendra-t-elle? Elle est partie pour toujours, monsieur. Elle ne reviendra plus. Ah, was my involuntary exclamation. Then after a pause, on est tout bien sûr Sylvie. Oui, oui, monsieur. Mademoiselle a directrice, nous l'a dit, elle-même. Il y a deux ou trois jours. And I could pursue my enquiries no further. Time, place and circumstances forbade my adding another word. I could neither comment on what had been said nor demand further particulars. The question as to the reason of the teacher's departure, as to whether it had been voluntary or otherwise was indeed on my lips. But I suppressed it. There were listeners all round. An hour after, in passing Sylvie in the corridor as she was putting on her bonnet, I stopped short and asked, Sylvie, do you know Mademoiselle Henri's address? I have some books of hers, I added carelessly, and I should wish to send them to her. No, monsieur, replied Sylvie. But perhaps Rosalie the Portress will be able to give it to you. Rosalie's cabinet was just at hand. I stepped in and repeated the enquiry. Rosalie, a smart French risette, looked up from her work with a knowing smile. Precisely the sort of smile I had been so desirous to avoid exciting. Her answer was prepared. She knew nothing whatever of Mademoiselle Henri's address. Had never known it. Turning from her with impatience, for I believe she lied and was hired to lie, I almost knocked down someone who had been standing at my back. It was the directoress. My abrupt movement made her recoil two or three steps. I was obliged to apologise, which I did more concisely than politely. No man likes to be dogged and in the very irritable mood in which I then was, the sight of Mademoiselle Reuter instantly incensed me. At the moment I turned, her countenance looked hard, dark and inquisitive. Her eyes were bent upon me with an expression of almost hungry curiosity. I had scarcely caught this phase of physiognomy, ere it had vanished, a bland smile played on her features. My harsh apology was received with good-humoured facility. Oh, don't mention it, monsieur. You only touched my hair with your elbow. It is no worse, only a little disheveled. She shook it back and, passing her fingers through her curls, loosened them into more numerous and flowing ringlets. Then she went on with vivacity. Rosalie, I was coming to tell you to go instantly and close the windows of the salon. The wind is rising and the muslin curtains will be covered with dust. Rosalie departed. Now thought I, this will not do. Mademoiselle Reuter thinks her meanness in eavesdropping is screened by her art in devising a pretext, whereas the muslin curtains she speaks of are not more transparent than this same pretext. An impulse came over me to thrust the flimsy screen aside and confront her craft boldly with a word or two of plain truth. The rough shod foot treads most firmly on slippery ground, thought I. So I began. Mademoiselle Henri has left your establishment, been dismissed, I presume. Ah, I wish to have a little conversation with you, Monsieur, replied the directorous with the most natural and affable air in the world. But we cannot talk quietly here. Will Monsieur step into the garden a minute? And she preceded me, stepping out through the glass door I have before mentioned. There, said she, when we had reached the centre of the middle alley, and when the foliage of shrubs and trees, now in their summer pride, closing behind and around us, shut out the view of the house, and thus imparted a sense of seclusion, even to this little plot of ground in the very core of a capital. There, one feels quiet and free when there are only pear trees and rose bushes about one. I dare say you, like me, Monsieur, are sometimes tired of being eternally in the midst of life, of having human faces always round you, human eyes always upon you, human voices always in your ear. I'm sure I often wish intensely for liberty to spend a whole month in the country at some little farmhouse, bien gentille, bien propre, tout entourait des champs et de bois. Quelle vie charmante, que la vie champette, n'est-ce pas, Monsieur? Cela dépend, mademoiselle. Que le vent est bon et frais, continued the directoress. And she was right there, for it was a southwind, soft and sweet. I carried my hat in my hand, and this gentle breeze passing through my hair soothed my temples like barn. Its refreshing effect, however, penetrated no deeper than the mere surface of the frame. For as I walked by the side of mademoiselle Reuter, my heart was still hot within me, and while I was musing, the fire burned. Then spake I with my tongue. I understand mademoiselle Reuter is gone from hence, and will not return. Ah, true. I meant to have named the subject to you some days ago, but my time is so completely taken up. I cannot do half the things I wish. Have you never experienced what it is, Monsieur, to find the day too short by twelve hours for your numerous duties? Not often. Mademoiselle Henri's departure was not voluntary, I presume. If it had been, she would certainly have given me some intimation of it being my pupil. Oh, did she not tell you? That was strange. For my part, I never thought of averting to the subject. When one has so many things to attend to, one is apt to forget little incidents that are not of primary importance. You consider mademoiselle Henri's dismission, then, as a very insignificant event. Dismission? Ah, she was not dismissed. I can say with truth, Monsieur, that since I became the head of this establishment, no master or teacher has ever been dismissed from it. Yet some have left it mademoiselle. Many. I have found it necessary to change frequently. A change of instructors is often beneficial to the interests of a school. It gives life and variety to the proceedings. It amuses the pupils and suggests to the parents the idea of exertion and progress. Yet when you are tired of a professor or maîtresse, you scruple to dismiss them? No need to have recourse to such extreme measures. I assure you. Allons, Monsieur professeur. Assez-en-nous. Je vais vous donner une petite leçon dans votre état d'instituteur. I wish I might write all she said to me in French. It loses sadly by being translated into English. We had now reached the garden chair. The director has sat down and signed to me to sit by her. But I only rested my knee on the seat and stood leaning my head and arm against the empowering branch of a huge lebernam, whose golden flowers, blent with the dusky green leaves of a lilac bush, formed a mixed arch of shade and sunshine over the retreat. Mademoiselle Reuters, at silent a moment, some novel movements were evidently working in her mind, and they showed their nature on her astute brow. She was meditating some shade of policy. Convinced by several months' experience that the affectation of virtues she did not possess was unavailing to ensnare me, aware that I had read her real nature and would believe nothing of the character she gave out as being hers, she had determined at last to try a new key and see if the lock of my heart would yield to that. A little audacity, a word of truth, a glimpse of the real. Yes, I will try, was her inward resolve, and then her blue eye glittered upon me. It did not flash. Nothing of flame ever kindled its temperate gleam. Monsieur fears to sit by me, she inquired playfully. I have no wish to usurp Pelle's place, I answered, for I had got the habit of speaking to her bluntly. The habit begun in anger, but continued because I saw that instead of offending it fascinated her. She cast down her eyes and drooped her eyelids. She sighed uneasily. She turned with an anxious gesture, as if she would give me the idea of a bird that flutters in its cage and would vane fly from its jail and jailer and seek its natural mate and pleasant nest. Well, and your lesson, I demanded briefly. Ah, she exclaimed, recovering herself. You are so young, so frank and fearless, so talented, so impatient of imbecility, so disdainful of vulgarity. You need a lesson. Here it is, then. Far more is to be done in this world by dexterity than by strength. But perhaps you knew that before, for there is delicacy as well as power in your character, policy as well as pride. Go on, said I, and I could hardly help smiling. The flattery was so pica, so finely seasoned. She caught the prohibited smile, though I passed my hand over my mouth to conceal it, and again she made room for me to sit beside her. I shook my head, though temptation penetrated to my senses at the moment, and once more I told her to go on. Well, then, if ever you are at the head of a large establishment, dismiss nobody. To speak truth, monsieur, unto you I will speak truth. I despise people who are always making rouse, blustering, sending off one to the right and another to the left, urging and hurrying circumstances. I'll tell you what I like best to do, monsieur, shall I. She looked up again. She had compounded her glance well this time. Much archness, more deference, a spicy dash of cocketry, an unveiled consciousness of capacity. I nodded. She treated me like the great mogul, so I became the great mogul as far as she was concerned. I like, monsieur, to take my knitting in my hands and to sit quietly down in my chair. Circumstances defile past me. I watch their march. So long as they follow the course I wish, I say nothing, and do nothing. I don't clap my hands and cry out, bravo! How lucky I am! To attract the attention and envy of my neighbours. I am merely passive. But when events fall out ill, when circumstances become adverse, I watch very vigilantly. I knit on still, and still I hold my tongue. But every now and then, monsieur, I just put my toe out, so, and give the rebellious circumstance a little secret push without noise, which sends it the way I wish, and I am successful after all, and nobody has seen my expedient. So when teachers or masters become troublesome and inefficient, when in short the interests of the school would suffer from their retaining their places, I mind my knitting. Events progress. Circumstances glide past. I see one if pushed ever so little awry will render untenable the post I wish to have vacated. The deed is done. The stumbling block removed, and no one saw me. I have not made an enemy. I am rid of an encumbrance. A moment since, and I thought her alluring. This speech concluded I looked on her with distaste. Just like you was my cold answer, and in this way you have ousted mademoiselle Henri. You wanted her office, therefore you rendered it intolerable to her. Not at all, monsieur. I was merely anxious about mademoiselle Henri's health. No, your moral sight is clear and piercing, but there you have failed to discover the truth. I took, I have always taken, a real interest in mademoiselle Henri's welfare. I did not like her going out in all weathers. I thought it would be more advantageous for her to obtain a permanent situation. Besides, I consider her now qualified to do something more than teach sewing. I reasoned with her, left the decision to herself. She saw the correctness of my views and adopted them. Excellent, and now mademoiselle you will have the goodness to give me her address. Her address. And a sombre and stony change came over the mean of the directorous. Her address. Ah, well, I wish I could oblige you, monsieur, but I cannot, and I will tell you why. Whenever I myself asked her for her address, she always evaded the inquiry. I thought, I may be wrong, but I thought her motive for doing so was a natural, though mistaken, reluctance to introduce me to some probably very poor abode. Her means were narrow, her origin obscure. She lives somewhere doubtless in the Bas-Ville. I will not lose sight of my best pupil yet, said I, though she were born of beggars and lodged in a cellar. For the rest it is absurd to make a bugbear of her origin to me. I happen to know that she was a Swiss pastor's daughter, neither more nor less. And as to her narrow means, I care nothing for the poverty of her purse so long as her heart overflows with affluence. Ah, your sentiments are perfectly noble, monsieur, said the directorous, affecting to suppress a yawn. Her sprightliness was now extinct. Her temporary candour shut up. The little red coloured, piratical-looking pen and vordacity she had allowed to float a minute in the air was now furled. And the broad, sober-hued flag of dissimulation again hung low over the citadel. I did not like her thus, so I cut short the tetatet and departed. End of Chapter 18 The Professor by Charlotte Bronte Novelists should never allow themselves to weary of the study of real life. If they observed this duty conscientiously, they would give us fewer pictures checkered with vivid contrasts of light and shade. They would seldom elevate their heroes and heroines to the heights of rapture. Still seldomer sink them to the depths of despair. For if we rarely taste the fullness of joy in this life, we yet more rarely savour the acrid bitterness of hopeless anguish. Unless indeed we have plunged like beasts into sensual indulgence. Abused, strained, stimulated, again overstrained, and at last destroyed our faculties for enjoyment. Then truly we may find ourselves without support, robbed of hope. Our agony is great, and how can it end? We have broken the spring of our powers. Life must be all-suffering, too feeble to conceive faith. Death must be darkness. God, spirits, religion can have no place in our collapsed minds, where linger only hideous and polluting recollections of vice. And time brings us onto the brink of the grave, and dissolution flings us in. A rag, eaten through and through with disease, wrung together with pain, stamped into the churchyard sod by the inexorable heel of despair. But the man of regular life and rational mind never despair, he loses his property. It is a blow. He staggers a moment. Then his energies roused by the smart are at work to seek a remedy. Activity soon mitigates regret. Sickness affects him. He takes patience. Endures what he cannot cure. Acute pain racks him. His writhing limbs know not where to find rest. He leans on hopes, anchors. Death takes from him what he loves, roots up, and tears violently away the stem round which his affections were twined. A dark, dismal time, a frightful wrench. But some morning religion looks into his desolate house with sunrise and says that in another world, another life, he shall meet his kindred again. She speaks of that world as a place unsullied by sin, of that life as an era unemittered by suffering. She mightily strengthens her consolation by connecting it with two ideas which mortals cannot comprehend but on which they love to repose. Eternity, immortality. And the mind of the mourner being filled with an image faint yet glorious of heavenly hills all light and peace of a spirit resting there in bliss of a day when his spirit shall also a light there free and disembodied of a reunion perfected by love purified from fear. He takes courage, goes out to encounter the necessities and discharge the duties of life. And though sadness may never lift her burden from his mind, hope will enable him to support it. Well, and what suggested all this? And what is the inference to be drawn therefrom? What suggested it is the circumstance of my best pupil, my treasure, being snatched from my hands and put away out of my reach? The inference to be drawn from it is that, being a steady, reasonable man, I did not allow the resentment, disappointment, and grief engendered in my mind by this evil circumstance, to grow there to any monstrous size, nor did I allow them to monopolise the whole space of my heart. I pent them on the contrary in one straight and secret nook. In the daytime, too, when I was about my duties, I put them on the silent system, and it was only after I had closed the door of my chamber at night that I somewhat relaxed my severity towards these gross nurslings, and allowed vent to their language of murmurs. Then in revenge they sat on my pillow, haunted my bed, and kept me awake with their long midnight cry. A week passed, I had said nothing more to mademoiselle Reuter. I had been calm in my demeanour to her, though stony cold and hard. When I looked at her, it was with the glance fitting to be bestowed on one who I knew had consulted jealousy as an adviser, and employed treachery as an instrument, the glance of quiet disdain and rooted distrust. On Saturday evening ere I left the house, I stepped into the cell à manger, where she was sitting alone, and placing myself before her, I asked with the same tranquil tone and manner that I should have used had I put the question for the first time. Mademoiselle, will you have the goodness to give me the address of Frances Evans Henri? A little surprised, but not disconcerted, she smilingly disclaimed any knowledge of that address, adding, Monsieur has perhaps forgotten that I explained all about that circumstance before, a week ago. Mademoiselle, I continued, you would greatly oblige me by directing me to that young person's abode. She seemed somewhat puzzled, and at last, looking up with an admirably counterfeited air of naivete, she demanded, does Monsieur think I am telling an untruth? Still avoiding to give her a direct answer, I said, it is not your intention then, Mademoiselle, to oblige me in this particular. But Monsieur, how can I tell you what I do not know? Very well, I understand you perfectly, Mademoiselle, and now I have only two or three words to say. This is the last week in July, in another month the vacation will commence. Have the goodness to avail yourself of the leisure it will afford you to look out for another English master. At the close of August I shall be under the necessity of resigning my post in your establishment. I did not wait for her comments on this announcement, but bowed and immediately withdrew. That same evening, soon after dinner, a servant brought me a small packet. It was directed in a hand I knew, but had not hoped so soon to see again. Being in my own apartment and alone, there was nothing to prevent my immediately opening it. It contained four, five franc pieces, and a note in English. Monsieur, I came to Mademoiselle Reuter's house yesterday, at the time when I knew you would be just about finishing your lesson, and I asked if I might go into the school room and speak to you. Mademoiselle Reuter came out and said you were already gone. It had not yet struck four, so I thought she must be mistaken, but concluded it would be vain to call another day on the same errand. In one sense the note will do as well. It will wrap up the twenty francs, the price of the lessons I have received from you. And if it will not fully express the thanks I owe you in addition, if it will not bid you goodbye as I could wish to have done, if it will not tell you as I long to do how sorry I am that I shall probably never see you more, why spoken words would hardly be more adequate to the task. Had I seen you, I should probably have stammered out something feeble and unsatisfactory, something belying my feelings rather than explaining them. So it is perhaps as well that I was denied admission to your presence. You often remarked, Monsieur, that my devoirs dwell to great deal on fortitude in bearing grief. You said I introduced that theme too often. I find indeed that it is much easier to write about a severe duty than to perform it, for I am oppressed when I see and feel to what a reverse fate has condemned me. You were kind to me, Monsieur, very kind. I am afflicted. I am heartbroken to be quite separated from you. Soon I shall have no friend on earth. But it is useless troubling you with my distresses. What claim have I on your sympathy? None. I will then say no more. Farewell, Monsieur. F.I. Henri. I put up the note in my pocketbook. I slipped the five frank pieces into my purse. Then I took a turn through my narrow chamber. Mademoiselle Reuter talked about her poverty, said I, and she is poor. Yet she pays her debts and more. I have not yet given her a quarter's lessons, and she has sent me a quarter's due. I wonder of what she deprived herself to scrape together the twenty francs. I wonder what sort of a place she has to live in, and what sort of a woman her aunt is, and whether she is likely to get employment to supply the place she has lost. No doubt she will have to trudge about long enough from school to school to inquire here and apply there to be rejected in this place, disappointed in that. Many an evening shall go to her bed tired and unsuccessful, and the directoress would not let her in to bid me goodbye. I might not have the chance of standing with her for a few minutes at a window in the school room and exchanging some half-dozen of sentences, getting to know where she lived, putting matters in train for having all things arranged to my mind. No address on the note, I continued, drawing it again from the pocket book and examining it on each side of the two leaves. Women are women, that is certain, and always do business like women. Men mechanically put a date and address to their communications. And these five franc pieces, I hold them forth from my purse. If she had offered me them herself instead of tying them up with a thread of green silk in a kind of lily-puchsian packet, I could have thrust them back into her little hand and shut up the small taper fingers over them so, and compelled her shame, her pride, her shyness, all to yield to a little bit of determined will. Now where is she? How can I get at her? Opening my chamber door, I walked down into the kitchen. Who brought the packet, I asked of the servant who had delivered it to me. Un petit commissionaire, monsieur. Did he say anything? Rien. And I wended my way up the back stairs, wondrously the wiser for my enquiries. No matter, said I to myself as I again closed the door, no matter, I'll seek her through bristles. And I did. I sought her day by day, whenever I had a moment's leisure, for four weeks. I sought her on Sundays all day long. I sought her on the boulevards in the Allez-Vertes in the park. I sought her in Saint-Gudul and in Saint-Jacques. I sought her in the two Protestant chapels. I attended these latter at the German, French and English services, not doubting that I should meet her at one of them. All my researches were absolutely fruitless. My security on the last point was proved by the event to be equally groundless with my other calculations. I stood at the door of each chapel after the service and waited till every individual had come out, scrutinising every gown draping a slender form, peering under every bonnet covering a young head. In vain. I saw girlish figures pass me drawing their black scarves over their sloping shoulders. But none of them had the exact turn and air of Mademoiselle Henri. I saw pale and thoughtful faces encadre in bands of brown hair. But I never found her forehead, her eyes, her eyebrows. All the features of all the faces I met seemed frittered away because my eye failed to recognise the peculiarities it was bent upon. An ample space of brow and a large dark and serious eye with a fine but decided line of eyebrow traced above. She has probably left Brussels, perhaps, has gone to England as she said she would, muttered I inwardly, as on the afternoon of the fourth Sunday I turned from the door of the chapel royal, which the doorkeeper had just closed and locked, and followed in the wake of the last of the congregation, now dispersed and dispersing over the square. I had soon out walked the couples of English gentlemen and ladies. Gracious goodness, why don't they dress better? My eye is yet filled with visions of the high flounced, slovenly and tumble dresses in costly silk and satin, of the large unbecoming collars in expensive lace, of the ill-cut coats and strangely fashioned pantaloons which every Sunday at the English service filled the choirs of the chapel royal, and after it issuing forth into the square came into disadvantageous contrast with freshly and trimly attired foreign figures hastening to attend salut at the church of Cobourg. I had passed these pairs of Britons and the groups of pretty British children and the British footmen and waiting-maids. I had crossed the Place Royal and got into the Rue Royal, thence I had diverged into the Rue de Louvain, an old and quiet street. I remember that feeling a little hungry and not desiring to go back and take my share of the goutté now on the refectory table at Poulets to wit piste au lait and water. I stepped into a baker's and refreshed myself on a cook. It is a Flemish word, I don't know how to spell it, a Corinth anglis, a current bun, and a cup of coffee, and then I strolled on towards the Porte de Louvain. Very soon I was out of the city and slowly mounting the hill which ascends from the gate. I took my time for the afternoon, though cloudy, was very sultry and not a breeze stirred to refresh the atmosphere. No inhabitant of Brussels need wander far to search for solitude, let him but move half a league from his own city, and he will find her brooding still and blank over the wide fields. So drear, though so fertile, spread out treeless and trackless round the capital of Brabant. Having gained the summit of the hill, and having stood and looked long over the cultured but lifeless campaign, I felt a wish to quit the high-road which I had hitherto get in among those tilled grounds, fertile as the beds of a Brobdygnagian kitchen garden, spreading far and wide even to the boundaries of the horizon, where, from a dusk green, distance changed them to a sullen blue, and confused their tints with those of the livid and thunderous-looking sky. Accordingly I turned up a bypass to the right. I had not followed it far, ere it brought me as I expected into the fields, amidst which, just before me, stretched a long and lofty white wall, enclosing, as it seemed from the foliage showing above, some thickly planted nursery of you and Cyprus, for of that species where the branches resting on the pale parapets, and crowding gloomily about a massive cross, planted doubtless on a central eminence and extending its arms, which seemed of black marble, over the summits of those sinister trees. I approached, wondering to what house this well protected garden appertained. I turned the angle of the wall, thinking to see some stately residence. I was close upon great iron gates. There was a hut serving for a lodge near, but I had no occasion to apply for the key. The gates were open. I pushed one leaf back. Rain had rusted its hinges for it groaned, dullfully, as they revolved. Thick planting empowered the entrance. Passing at the avenue, I saw objects on each hand which, in their own mute language of inscription and sign, explained clearly to what abode I had made my way. This was the house appointed for all living. Crosses, monuments, and garlands of everlastings announced the Protestant symmetry outside the gate of Louvain. The place was large enough to afford half an hour's strolling without the monotony of treading continually the same path. And for those who loved to peruse the annals of graveyards, here was a variety of inscription enough to occupy the attention for double or treble that space of time. Hither, people of many kindreds, tongues, and nations had brought their debt for determent. And here on pages of stone, of marble, and of brass, where it names, dates, last tributes of pomp or love, in English, in French, in German, and Latin. Here the Englishmen had directed a marble monument over the remains of his Mary Smith, or Jane Brown, and inscribed it only with her name. There the French widower had shaded the grave of his Elmih, or Celestine, with a brilliant thicket of roses, amidst which a little tablet rising bore an equally bright testimony to her countless virtues. Every nation, tribe, and kindred mourned after its own fashion, and how soundless was the mourning of all. My own tread, though slow and upon smooth rolled paths, seemed to startle because it formed the sole break to a silence otherwise total. Not only the winds, but the very fitful, wandering airs, where that afternoon, as by common consent, all fallen asleep in their various quarters. The north was hushed, the south silent. The east sobbed not, nor did the west whisper. The clouds in heaven were condensed and dull, but apparently quite motionless. Under the trees of this cemetery nestled a warm, breathless gloom, out of which the cypresses stood up straight and mute, above which the willows hung low and still, where the flowers as languid as fair waited listless for night dew or thundershow, where the tombs and those they hid lay impassable to sun or shadow, to rain or drought. Importuned by the sound of my own footsteps, I turned off upon the turf, and slowly advanced to a grove of views. I saw something stir among the stems. I thought it might be a broken branch swinging. My short-sighted vision had caught no form and be a sense of motion. But the dusky shade passed on, appearing and disappearing at the openings in the avenue. I soon discerned it was a living thing, and a human thing. And drawing nearer I perceived it was a woman, pacing slowly to and fro, and evidently deeming herself alone as I had deemed myself alone, and meditating as I had been meditating. Air long she returned to a seat, which I fancy she had but just quitted, or I should have caught sight of her before. It was in a nook, screened by a clump of trees. There was the white wall before her, and a little stone set up against the wall, and at the foot of the stone was an allotment of a new-made grave. I put on my spectacles and passed softly close behind her. Glancing at the inscription on the stone, I read, Julienne Henri died at Brussels aged 60, August 10th, 18. Having perused the inscription, I looked down at the form, sitting bent and thoughtful just under my eyes, unconscious of the vicinity of any living thing. It was a slim, youthful figure in mourning apparel of the plainest black stuff, with a little simple black crepe bonnet. I felt as well as saw who it was, and moving neither hand nor foot, I stood some moments enjoying the security of conviction. I had sought her for a month, and had never discovered one of her traces, never met a hope or seized a chance of encountering her anywhere. I had been forced to loosen my grasp on expectation, and but an hour ago had sunk slackly under the discouraging thought that the current of life and the impulse of destiny had swept her forever from my reach, and behold, while bending suddenly earthward beneath the pressure of despondency, while following with my eyes the track of sorrow on the turf here was my lost jewel dropped on the tear-fed herbage, nestling in the messy and mouldy roots of yew-trees. Frances sat very quiet, her elbow on her knee, and her head on her hand. I knew she could retain a thinking attitude a long time without change. At last a tear fell. She had been looking at the name on the stone before her, and her heart had no doubt endured those constrictions with which the desolate living, regretting the dead, are at times so sorely oppressed. Many tears rolled down which she wiped away again and again with a handkerchief. Some distressed sobs escaped her, and then the paroxysm over she sat quiet as before. I put my hand gently on her shoulder, no need further to prepare her, for it was neither hysterical nor liable to fainting fits. A sudden push indeed might have startled her, but the contact of my quiet touch merely woke attention as I wished. And though she turned quickly, yet so lightning swift is thought in some minds especially, I believe the wonder of what the consciousness of who it was that thus stole unawares on her solitude had passed through her brain and pushed into her heart even before she had affected that hasty movement. At least amazement had hardly opened her eyes and raised them to mind, ere recognition informed their irids with the most speaking brightness. Nervous surprise had hardly discomposed her features, ere a sentiment of most vivid joy shone clear and warm on her whole countenance. I had hardly heard that she was wasted and pale, ere called to feel a responsive inward pleasure by the sense of most full and exquisite pleasure glowing in the animated flush and shining in the expansive light now diffused over my pupil's face. It was the summer sun flashing out after the heavy summer shower, and what fertilizes more rapidly than that beam burning almost like fire in its colour. End of Chapter 19 Part 1 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Chapter 19 of The Professor This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Giesen The Professor by Charlotte Bronte Chapter 19 Part 2 I hate boldness the boldness which is of the brassy brow and insensate nerves, but I love the courage of the strong heart the further of the generous blood. I loved with passion the light of Francis Evans is clear hazel eye when it did not fear to look straight into mine. I loved the tones with which she uttered the words mon maître mon maître I loved the movement with which she confided her hand to my hand I loved her as she stood there penniless and parentless for a sensualist charmless for me a treasure the best object of sympathy on earth thinking such thoughts as I thought feeling such feelings as I felt my ideal of the shrine in which to seal my stores of love personification of discretion and forethought of diligence and perseverance of self-denial and self-control those guardians those trusty keepers of the gift I longed to confer on her the gift of all my affections model of truth and honor of independence and conscientiousness those refiners and sustainers of an honest life silent possessor of a well of tenderness of a flame as genial as still as pure as quenchless of natural feeling natural passion those sources of refreshment and comfort to the sanctuary of home I knew how quietly and how deeply the well bubbled in her heart I knew how the more dangerous flame burned safely under the eye of reason I had seen when the fire shot up a moment high and vivid when the accelerated heat troubled life's current in its channels I had seen reason reduce the rebel and humble its blaze to embers I had confidence in Francis Evans I had respect for her and as I drew her arms through mine and led her out of the cemetery I felt I had another sentiment as firm as respect more fervid than either that of love well my pupil said I as the ominous sounding gate swung two behind us well I have found you again a month's search has seemed long and I little thought to have discovered my lost sheep straying amongst graves never had I addressed her but as Mademoiselle before and to speak thus was to take up a tone new to both her and me her answer surprised me that this language ruffled none of her feelings woke no discord in her heart moment she said have you troubled yourself to seek me I little imagined you would think much of my absence but I grieved bitterly to be taken away from you I was sorry for that circumstance when heavier troubles ought to have made me forget it your aunt is dead yes a fortnight since and she died full of regret which I could not chase from her mind she kept repeating even during the last night of her existence Francis you will be so lonely when I am gone so friendless she wished too that she could have been buried in Switzerland and it was I who persuaded her in her old age to leave the banks of Lake Lehmann and to come only as it seems to die in this flat region of Flanders willingly would I have observed her last wish and taken her remains back to our own country but that was impossible I was forced to lay her here she was ill but a short time I presume but three weeks when she began to sink I asked mademoiselle Reuters leave to stay with her and wait on her I readily got to leave do you return to the pensioner I demanded hastily Monsieur when I had been at home a week mademoiselle Reuters called one evening just after I had got my aunt to bed she went into her room to speak to her and was extremely civil and affable as she always is afterwards she came and sat with me a long time and just as she rose to go away she said mademoiselle I shall not soon cease to regret your departure from my establishment though indeed it is true that you have taught your class of pupils so well that they are all quite accomplished in the little works you manage so skillfully and have not the slightest need of further instruction my second teacher must in future supply your place with regard to the younger pupils as well she can though she is indeed an inferior artist to you and doubtless it will be your part now to assume a higher position in your calling I am sure you will everywhere find schools and families willing to profit by your talents she paid me my last quarter's salary I asked as mademoiselle would no doubt think very bluntly if she designed to discharge me from the establishment she smiled at my inelegance of speech and answered that our connection as employer and employed was certainly dissolved but that she hoped still to retain the pleasure of my acquaintance she should always be happy to see me as a friend and then she said something about the excellent condition of the streets and the long continuance of fine weather and went away quite cheerful I laughed inwardly all this was so like the directoris so like what I had expected and guessed of her conduct and then the exposure and proof of her lie unconsciously afforded by Francis she had frequently applied for mademoiselle Henri's address for Seuss mademoiselle Henri had always evaded giving it etc etc and here I found her a visitor at the very house of whose locality she had professed absolute ignorance any comments I might have intended to make on my pupil's communication were checked by the plashing of large raindrops on our faces and on the path and by the muttering of a distant but coming storm since stagnant air and leaden sky had already induced me to take the road leading back to Brussels and now I hastened my own steps and those of my companion and as our way lay downhill we got on rapidly there was an interval after the fall of the first broad drops before heavy rain came on in the meantime we had passed through the portes de Louvain and were again in the city where do you live I asked I will see you safe home Rue Notre Damonnaige answered Francis it was not far from the Rue de Louvain and we stood on the door steps of the house we sought air the clouds severing with loud peeled and shattered cataract of lightning emptied their livid folds in a torrent heavy prone and broad come in come in said Francis as after putting her into the house I had paused air I followed the word decided me I stepped across the threshold shut the door on the rushing flashing whitening storm and followed her upstairs to her apartments now the she nor I were wet a projection over the door had warded off the straight descending flood none but the first large drops had touched our garments one minute more and we should not have had a dry thread on us stepping over a little mat of green wall I found myself in a small room with a painted floor and a square of green carpet in the middle the articles of furniture were few but all bright and exquisitely clean order reigned through its narrow limits such order as it soothed my punctilious soul to behold and I had hesitated to enter the abode because I apprehended after all that Mademoiselle Reuters hint about its extreme poverty might be too well founded and I feared to embarrass the lace-mender by entering her lodgings unawares poor the place might be poor truly it was but its neatness was better than elegance and had but a bright little fire shone on that clean hearth I should have deemed it more attractive than a palace no fire was there however and no fuel laid ready to light the lace-mender was unable to allow herself that indulgence especially now when deprived by death of her soul relative she had only her own unaided exertions to rely on Francis went into an inner room to take off her bonnet and she came out a model of frugal neatness with her well-fitting black stuff dress so accurately defining her elegant bust and taper waist with her spotless white collar turned back from a fair and shapely neck with her plentious brown hair arranged in smooth bands on her temples and in a large Grecian plat behind ornaments she had none neither brooch, ring nor ribbon she did well enough without them perfection of fit proportion of form grace of carriage agreeably supplied their place her eye as she re-entered the small sitting-room instantly sought mine which was just then lingering on the hearth I knew she read at once the sort of inward roof and pitying pain which the chill vacancy of that hearth stirred in my soul quick to penetrate, quick to determine and quicker to put in practice she had in a moment tied a holland apron round her waist then she disappeared and reappeared with a basket of cover she opened it and produced wood and coal deftly and compactly she arranged them in the grate it is her whole stock and she will exhaust it out of hospitality thought I what are you going to do I asked surely not to light a fire this hot evening I shall be smothered indeed, monsieur, I feel it very chilly since the rain began besides I must boil the water for my tea I take tea on Sundays you will be obliged to try and bear the heat she had struck a light the wood was already in a blaze and truly when contrasted with the darkness the wild tumult of the tempest without that peaceful glow which began to beam on the now animated hearth seemed very cheering a low purring sound from some quarter announced that another being besides myself was pleased with the change a black cat roused by the light from its sleep on a little cushioned footstool came and rubbed its head against Francis' gown as she knelt she caressed it saying it had been a favourite with her pauvre-fraudante julienne the fire being lit the hearth swept and a small kettle of a very antique pattern such as I thought I remembered to have seen in old farmhouses in England placed over the now day flame Francis' hands were washed and her apron removed in an instant then she opened a cupboard took out a tea tray on which she had soon arranged a china tea equipage whose pattern, shape and size denoted a remote antiquity a little old fashioned silver spoon was deposited in each saucer and a pair of silver tongs equally old fashioned were laid on the sugar basin one of the two was produced a tidy silver cream-mure not larger than an egg shell while making these preparations she chanced to look up and reading curiosity in my eyes she smiled and asked is this like England, monsieur like the England of a hundred years ago, I replied is it truly while everything on this tray is at least a hundred years old these cups, these spoons are all heirlooms my great-grandmother left them to my grandmother she to my mother and my mother brought them with her from England to Switzerland and then left them to me and ever since I was a little girl I thought I should like to carry them back to England whence they came she put some pistole on the table she made the tea as foreign as do make tea i.e. at the rate of a teaspoon full to half a dozen cups of tea and as I took it she asked with a sort of exaltation will it make you think yourself at home for a moment if I had a home in England I believe it would recall it I answered and in truth there was a sort of illusion in seeing the fair complexioned English looking girl presiding at the English meal and speaking in the English language you have then no home was her remark nor ever have had if ever I possess a home it must be of my own making and the task is yet to begin and as I spoke a pang new to me shot across my heart it was a pang of mortification at the humility of my position and the inadequacy of my means while with that pang was born a strong desire to do more earn more be more possess more and in my hands my roused and eager spirit panted to include the home I have never had the wife I inwardly vowed to win Francis's tea was little better than hot water, sugar and milk and her piste au lait with which she could not offer me butter was sweet to my palette as mana the repast over and the treasured plate and porcelain being washed and put by the bright table rubbed still brighter Le chat de ma tante julienne also being fed with provisions brought forth on a plate for its special use a few stray cinders and a scattering of ashes too being swept from the hearth Francis at last sat down and then as she took a chair opposite to me she betrayed for the first time a little embarrassment and no wonder for indeed I hadn't consciously watched her closely, followed all her steps and all her movements a little too perseveringly with my eyes for she mesmerized me by the grace and alertness of her action at a deft, cleanly even decorative effect resulting from each touch of her slight and fine fingers and when at last she subsided to stillness the intelligence of her face seemed beauty to me and I dwelt on it accordingly her colour however rising rather than settling with her pose and her eyes remaining downcast though I kept waiting for the lids to be raised that I might drink a ray of the light I loved a light where fire dissolved in softness where affection tempered penetration where just now at least pleasure played with thought this expectation not being gratified I began at last to suspect that I'd probably myself to blame for this appointment I must cease gazing and begin talking if I wished to break the spell under which she now sat motionless so recollecting the composing effect which an authoritative tone and manner had ever been wanted to produce on her I said get one of your English books mademoiselle for the rain yet falls heavily and will probably detain me half an hour longer but she rose got her book and accepted at once the chair I placed for her at my side she had selected paradise lost from her shelf of classics thinking I suppose the religious character of the book best adapted it to Sunday I told her to begin at the beginning and while she read Milton's invocation to that heavenly muse who on the secret top of Aureb or Sinai had taught the Hebrew shepherd how in the womb of chaos the conception of a world had originated and ripened I enjoyed undisturbed the treble pleasure of having her near me hearing the sound of her voice a sound sweet and satisfying in my ear and looking by intervals at her face of this last privilege I chiefly availed myself when I found fault with an intonation a pause or an emphasis as long as I dogmatized I might also gaze without exciting too warm a flush enough said I when she had gone through some half dozen pages a work of time with her for she read slowly and paused often to ask and receive information enough and now the rain is ceasing and I must soon go for indeed at that moment looking towards the window I saw it all blue the thunder clouds were broken scattered and the setting August sun sent a gleam like the reflection of rubies through the lattice I got up I drew on my gloves you have not yet found another situation to supply the place of that from which you were dismissed by mademoiselle Reuter no Monsieur I have made inquiries everywhere but they all ask me for references and to speak truth I do not like to apply to the directoris I acted neither justly nor honorably towards me she used underhand means to set my pupils against me and thereby render me unhappy while I held my place in her establishment and she eventually deprived me of it by a masked and hypocritical maneuver pretending that she was acting for my good but really snatching from me my chief means of subsistence at a crisis where not only my own life but that of another exertions of her I will never more ask of favor how then do you propose to get on how do you live now I have still my lace mending trade with care it will keep me from starvation and I doubt not by dint of exertion to get better employment yet it is only a fortnight since I began to try my courage or hopes are by no means worn out yet and if you get what you wish what then what are your ultimate views to save enough to cross the channel I always looked to England as my canan well well I shall pay you another visit good evening now and I left her rather abruptly I had much adieu to resist a strong inward impulse urging me to take a warmer more expressive leave natural as to fold her for a moment in a close embrace to imprint one kiss on her cheek or forehead I was not unreasonable that was all I wanted satisfied in that point I could go away content and reason denied me even this she ordered me to turn my eyes from her face and my steps from her apartment to quit her as dryly and coldly as I would have quitted old madame I obeyed but I swore rankerously to be avenged one day I learn a right to do as I please in this matter or I'll die in the contest I have one object before me now to get that Geneva's girl for my wife and my wife she shall be that is provided she has as much or half as much regard for her master as he has for her and would she be so docile so smiling so happy under my instructions if she had not would she sit at my side when I dictate or correct with such a still contented halcyon mean for I had ever remarked that however sad or harassed her countenance might be when I entered a room yet after I had been near her spoken to her a few words given her some directions once nestle into a nook of happiness and look up serene and revived the reproof suited her best of all while I scolded she would chip away with her pen knife at a pencil or a pen fidgeting a little defending herself by monosyllables and when I deprived her of the pen or pencil fearing it would be all cut away and when I interdicted even the monosyllabic defence for the purpose of working up the subdued excitement a little higher she would at last raise her eyes and give me a certain glance sweetened with gaiety and pointed with defiance which to speak truth thrilled me as nothing had ever done and made me in a fashion though happily she did not know it her subject if not her slave after such little scenes her spirits would maintain their flow for hours and as I remarked before her health therefrom took a sustenance and vigor which previously to the event of her aunt's death and her dismissal had almost recreated her whole frame it has taken me several minutes to write these last sentences but I had thought all their purport during the brief interval of descending the stairs from Francis's room just as I was opening the outer door I remembered the twenty francs which I had not restored I paused impossible to carry them away with me difficult to force them back on their original owner I had now seen her in her own humble abode witness to the dignity of her poverty the pride of order the fastidious care of conservatism obvious in the arrangement and economy of her little home I was sure she would not suffer herself excused paying her debts I was certain the favour of indemnity would be accepted from no hand perhaps least of all from mine yet these four five franc pieces were a burden to myself respect and I must get rid of them an expedient a clumsy one no doubt but the best I could devise suggested itself to me I dotted up the stairs knocked re-entered the room as if in haste mademoiselle I have forgotten one of my gloves I must have left it here she instantly rose to seek it and as she turned her back I being now at the half noiselessly lifted a little vase one of a set of china ornaments as old fashioned as the teacups slipped the money under it then saying oh here is my glove I dropped it within the fender good evening mademoiselle I made my second exit brief as my impromptu return had been it had afforded me time to pick up a heartache I remarked that francis had already removed the red embers of her cheerful little fire from the grate forced to calculate every item to save in every detail she had instantly on my departure retrenched a luxury too expensive to be enjoyed alone I am glad it is not yet winter thought I but in two months more come the winds and rains of November would to God that before then I could earn the right and the power to shovel coals into that great ad libiton already the pavement was drying a barmy and fresh breeze stirred the air purified by lightning I felt the west behind me where spread a sky like opal that emingled with crimson the enlarged sun glorious interior tints dipped his brim already stepping as I was eastward I faced a vast bank of clouds but also I had before me the arch of an evening rainbow a perfect rainbow high wide vivid I looked long my eye drank in the scene and I suppose my brain must have absorbed it might after lying awake in pleasant fever a long time watching the silent sheet lightning which still played among the retreating clouds and flashed silvery over the stars I at last fell asleep and then in a dream where reproduced the setting sun the bank of clouds the mighty rainbow I stood me thought on a terrace I leaned over a parapetid wall there was a space below me depth I could not fathom but hearing an endless dash of waves I believed it to be the sea sea spread to the horizon sea of changeful green and intense blue all was soft in the distance all vapor veiled a spark of gold glistened on the line between water and air floated up, approached enlarged, changed the object hung midway between heaven and earth and the arch of the rainbow the soft but dusk clouds diffused behind it hovered as on wings pearly, fleecy gleaming air streamed like raiment round it light tinted with carnation coloured what seemed face and limbs a large star shone with still luster on an angel's forehead an upraised arm and hand bouncing like a ray pointed to the bow overhead and a voice in my heart whispered hope smiles on effort end of chapter 19 part 2 recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelnear Surrey chapter 20 of The Professor this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Martin Geeson The Professor by Charlotte Bronte chapter 20 a competency was what I wanted a competency it was now my aim and resolve to secure but never had I been father from the mark with August the school year Lannice Gauleur closed the examinations concluded the prizes were adjudged the schools dispersed the gates of all colleges the doors of all pensioner shut not to be reopened till the beginning or middle of October the last day of August was at hand and what was my position had I advanced a step since the commencement of the past quarter on the contrary I had receded one by renouncing my engagement as English master in Mademoiselle Reuters establishment I had voluntarily cut off 20 pounds from my yearly income I had diminished my 60 pounds per annum to 40 pounds and even that some I now held by a very precarious tenure it is some time since I made any reference to Monsieur Pelé the moonlight walk is I think the last incident recorded in this narrative where that gentleman cuts any conspicuous figure the fact is since that event a change had come over the spirit of our intercourse he indeed ignorant that the still hour a cloudless moon and an open lattice had revealed to me the secret of his selfish love and false friendship would have continued smooth and complacent as ever but I grew spiny as a porcupine and inflexible as a black thorn cudgel I never had a smile for his railery never a moment for his society his invitations to take coffee with him in his parlour were invariably rejected and very stiffly and sternly rejected too his jesting illusions to the directoris which he still continued were heard with a grim calm very different from the petulant pleasure they were formerly wont to excite for a long time Pule bore with my frigid demeanour very patiently he even increased his attentions but finding that even the cringing politeness failed to thaw or move me he at last altered too in his turn he cooled his invitations ceased his countenance became suspicious and overcast and I read in the perplexed yet brooding aspect of his brow a constant examination a comparison of premises and an anxious endeavour to draw thence some explanatory inference ere long I fancy he succeeded for he was not without penetration perhaps too Mademoiselle Zorahid might have aided him in the solution of the enigma at any rate I soon found that the uncertainty of doubt had vanished from his manner renouncing all pretense of friendship and cordiality reserved, formal but still scrupulously polite deportment this was the point to which I had wished to bring him and I was now again comparatively at my ease I did not it is true like my position in his house but being freed from the annoyance of false professions and double dealing I could endure it especially as no heroic sentiment of hatred or jealousy of the director distracted my philosophical soul he had not I found wounded me in a very tender point the wound was so soon and so radically healed leaving only a sense of contempt for the treacherous fashion in which it had been inflicted and a lasting mistrust of the hand which I had detected attempting to stab in the dark this state of things continued till about the middle of July and then there was a little change Pule came home one night an hour after his usual time in a state of unequivocal intoxication a thing anomalous with him or if he had some of the worst faults of his countrymen he had also one at least of their virtues i.e. sobriety so drunk however was he upon this occasion but after having roused the whole establishment except the pupils whose dormitory being over the classes in a building apart from the dwelling house was consequently out of the reach of disturbance by violently ringing the whole bell and ordering lunch to be brought in immediately for he imagined it was noon whereas the city bells had just told midnight after having furiously rated the servants for their want of punctuality and gone near to chastise his poor old mother who advised him to go to bed he began raving dreadfully about le maudit anglais crème zvart i had not yet retired some german books i had got hold of had kept me up late i heard the uproar below and could distinguish the director's voice exalted in a manner as appalling as it was unusual opening my door a little i became aware of a demand on his part for crème zvart to be brought down to him that he might cut his throat on the whole table and wash his honour which he affirmed to be in a dirty condition in infernal british blood he is either mad or drunk thought i and in either case the old woman and the servants will be the better of a man's assistance so i descended straight to the hall i found him staggering about his eyes in a fine frenzy rolling a pretty sight he was a just medium between the fool lunatic come, monsieur Perlet, said i you had better go to bed and i took hold of his arm his excitement of course increased greatly at the sight and touch of the individual for whose blood he had been making application he struggled and struck with fury but a drunken man is no match for a sober one and even in his normal state Perlet's worn out frame could not have stood against my sound one i got him upstairs and in process of time to bed during the operation he did not fail to utter combinations which though broken had a sense in them while stigmatizing me as the treacherous spawn of a profidious country he in the same breath anathematized Zoraid Reuter he termed her femme sote, monsieur who in a fit of lewd caprice had thrown herself away on an unprincipled adventurer directing the point of the last appellation by a furious blow obliquely aimed at me i left him in the act of bounding elastically out of the bed into which i had tucked him but as i took the precaution of turning the key in the door behind me i retired to my own room assured of his safe custody till the morning and free to draw undisturbed conclusions from the scene i had just witnessed now it was precisely about this time that the director is stung by my coldness bewitched by my scorn and excited by the preference she suspected me of cherishing for another had fallen into a snare of her own laying was herself caught in the meshes of the very passion with which she wished to entangle me conscious of the state of things in that quarter i gathered from the condition in which i saw my employer that his lady love had betrayed the alienation of her affections inclinations rather i would say affection is a word at once too warm and too pure for the subject had let him see that the cavity of her hollow heart emptied of his image was now occupied by that of his usher it was not without some surprise that i found myself obliged to entertain this of the case with his old established school was so convenient so profitable a match so i was so calculating so interested a woman i wondered me a personal preference could in her mind have prevailed for a moment over worldly advantage yet it was evident from what said that not only had she repulsed him but had even let slip expressions of partiality for me one of his drunken exclamations was and the jade dotes on your youth you raw block head and talks of your noble deportment as she calls you a cursed English formality and your pure morals for sooth the must the caton i tell thee that hers i thought must be a curious soul were in spite of a strong natural tendency to estimate unduly advantages of wealth and station the sardonic disdain of a fortune less subordinate had wrought a deeper impression than could be imprinted by the most flattering assiduities of a prosperous chef d'institution i smiled inwardly and strange to say though my amour propre was excited not disagreeably by the conquest my better feelings remained untouched next day when i saw the directress and when she made an excuse to meet me in the corridor and besought my notice by a demeanor and look subdued to hellot humility i could not laugh i could scarcely pity her to answer briefly and dryly some interesting inquiry about my health to pass her by with a stern bow was all i could her presence and manner had then and for some time previously and consequently a singular effect upon me they sealed up all that was good elicited all that was noxious in my nature sometimes they innovated my senses but they always hardened my heart i was aware of the detriment done and quarreled with myself for the change i had ever hated attirent and behold the possession of a slave self-given went near to transform me into what i abhorred it was at once a sort of low gratification in receiving this luscious incense from an attractive and still young worshipper and an irritating sense of degradation in the very experience of this pleasure when she stole about to me with a soft step of a slave i felt at once barbarous and sensual as a pasha i endured her homage sometimes sometimes i rebuked it my indifference or harshness served equally to increase the evil i desired to check i once overheard her say to her mother and the jolly old dame laughed and said she thought her daughter was bewitched for i had no point of a handsome man about me except being straight and without deformity she continued worthy old girl i could have gone and kissed her had she not been a little too old too fat and too red faced her sensible truthful words seemed so wholesome contrasted with the morbid illusions of her daughter when perlay awoke on the morning after his frenzy fit he retained a new recollection of what had happened the previous night and his mother fortunately at the discretion to refrain from informing him that i had been a witness of his degradation he did not again have recourse to wine for curing his griefs but even in his sober mood he soon showed that the iron of jealousy had entered into his soul a thorough Frenchman the national characteristic of ferocity had not been omitted in compounding the ingredients of his character it had appeared first in his access of drunken wrath when some of his demonstrations of hatred to my person were of a truly fiendish character and now it was more covertly betrayed by momentary contractions of the features and flashes of fierceness in his light blue eyes when their glanced chance to encounter mine he absolutely avoided speaking to me i was now spared even the full sort of his politeness in this state of our mutual relations my soul rebelled sometimes almost ungovernably against living in the house and discharging the service of such a man but who is free from the constraint of circumstances at that time i was not i used to rise each morning eager to shake off his yoke and go out with my manto under my arm if a beggar at least a free man and in the evening when i came back from the pensiona de demoiselle a certain pleasant voice in my ear a certain face so intelligent yet so docile so reflective yet so soft in my eyes a certain cast of character at once proud and pliant, sensitive and sagacious, serious and ardent in my head a certain tone of feeling fervid and modest refined and practical pure and powerful delighting and troubling my memory visions of new ties i longed to contract of new duties i longed to undertake had taken the rover and the rebel out of me and had shown endurance of my hated lot in the light of a spartan virtue but pulleys fury subsided a fortnight suffice for its rise, progress and extinction in that space of time the dismissal of the obnoxious teacher had been effected in the neighbouring house and in the same interval i had declared my resolution to follow and find out my pupil and upon my application for her address being refused i had summarily resigned my own post this last act seemed at once to draw Mademoiselle Reuter to her senses the sagacity, her judgment so long misled by a fascinating delusion struck again into the right track the moment that delusion vanished by the right track i do not mean the steep and difficult path of principle in that path she never trod but the plain highway of common sense from which she had of late widely diverged when there she carefully sought and having found industriously pursued the trail of her old suitor, Monsieur Pele she soon overtook him what art she employed to soothe and blind him i know not but she succeeded both in allaying his wrath and hoodwinking his discernment as was soon proved by the alteration in his mean and manner she must have managed to convince him that i neither was nor ever had been a rival of his for the fortnight of fury against me terminated in a fit of exceeding graciousness and amenity not unmixed with the dash of exulting self complacency more ludicrous than irritating Pele's bachelor life had been passed in proper French style with due disregard to moral restraint and i thought his married life promised to be very French also he often boasted to me what a terror had been to certain husbands of his acquaintance i perceived it would not now be difficult to pay him back in his own coin the crisis drew on no sooner had the holidays commenced the note of preparation for some momentous event sounded all through the premises of Pele painters, polishers and upholsterers were immediately set to work and there was talk of la chambre de madame not deeming it probable that the old duena at present graced with that title in our house had inspired her son with such enthusiasm of pillial piety as to induce him to fit up apartments expressly for her use i concluded in common with the cook the two housemaids and the kitchen scullion that a new and more juvenile madame was destined to be the tenant of these gay chambers presently official announcement of the coming event was put forth in another week's time monsieur director and mademoiselle director were to be joined together in the bands of matrimony monsieur in person heralded the fact to me terminating his communication by an obliging expression of his desire that i should continue as here to for his ablest assistant most trusted friend and a proposition to raise my salary by an additional 200 francs per annum i thanked him gave no conclusive answer at the time and when he had left me threw off my blouse put on my coat and set out on a long walk outside the part de flan in order as i thought to cool my blood calm my nerves and shake my disarranged ideas into some order in fact i had just received what was virtually my dismissal i could not conceal i did not desire to conceal from myself the conviction that being now certain that mademoiselle was destined to become madame it would not do for me to remain a dependent dweller in the house which was soon to be hers a present demeanor towards me was deficient neither in dignity nor propriety i knew her former feeling was unchanged decorum now repressed and policy masked it but opportunity would be too strong for either of these temptation would shiver their restraints i was no pope i could not boast in fallibility in short if i stayed the probability was that in three months time a practical modern french novel would be in full process of concoction under the roof of the unsuspecting pulley now modern french novels are not to my taste either practically or theoretically limited hazard yet been my experience of life i had once had the opportunity of contemplating near at hand an example of the results produced by a course of interesting and romantic domestic treachery no golden halo of fiction was about this example was bare and real and it was very loathsome i saw a mind degraded by the practice of mean subterfuge by the habit of perfidious deception and a body depraved by the infectious influence of the vice polluted soul i had suffered much from the forced and prolonged view of this spectacle those sufferings i did not now regret for their simple recollection acted as a most wholesome antidote to temptation they had inscribed on my reason the conviction that unlawful pleasure trenching on another's rights is delusive and envenoment pleasure its hollowness disappoints at the time its poison cruelly torches afterwards its effects deprave forever from all this resulted the conclusion that i must leave and that instantly i had prudence you know not where to go nor how to live and then the dream of true love came over me francis enri seemed to stand at my side her slender waist to invite my arm her hand to court my hand i felt it was made to nestle in mine i could not relinquish my right to it nor could i withdraw my eyes forever from hers where i saw so much happiness the abundance of heart with heart over whose expression i had such influence where i could kindle bliss infuse awe stir deep delight rouse sparkling spirit and sometimes wake and pleasurable dread my hopes to will and possess my resolutions to merit and rise rose in a ray against me and here i was about to plunge absolute destitution and all this suggested an inner voice because you fear an evil which may never happen it will happen you know it will answered that stubborn monitor conscience do what you feel is right obey me and even in the sloughs of want i will plant for you firm footing and then as i walked fast along the road there rose upon me a strange felt idea of some great being unseen but all present who in his beneficence desired only my welfare and now watched the struggle of good and evil in my heart and waited to see whether i should obey his voice heard in the whispers of my conscience or lend a near to the sofasms by which his enemy and mine the spirit of evil sought to lead me astray rough and steep was the path indicated by divine suggestion mossy and declining the green way along which temptations strewed flowers but where as me thought the deity of love the friend of all that exists would smile well pleased where i to gird up my loins and address myself to the rude ascent so on the other hand each inclination to the velvet seemed to kindle a gleam of triumph on the brow of the man-hating god-defying demon sharp and short i turned round fast i retraced my steps in half an hour i was again at monsieur pulleys i sought him in his study brief parley concise explanation sufficed my manner proved that i was resolved he perhaps at heart approved my decision after 20 minutes conversation i re-entered my own room self-deprived of the means of living self-sentenced to leave my present home with the short notice of a week in which to provide another end of chapter 20 recording by martin geeson in hazel mere sorry