第49章
“Mademoiselle,” said she, looking up and addressing theteacher, “Will you have the goodness to go and stand in the corridor, while the young ladies are putting on their things, and try to keep some order?”
Mdlle Henri obeyed.
“What splendid weather!” observed the directress cheerfully, glancing at the same time from the window.I assented and was withdrawing.“What of your new pupil, monsieur?” continued she, following my retreating steps.“Is she likely to make progress in English?”
“Indeed I can hardly judge.She possesses a pretty good accent; of her real knowledge of the language I have as yet had no opportunity of forming an opinion.”
“And her natural capacity, monsieur? I have had my fears about that: can you relieve me by an assurance at least of its average power?”
“I see no reason to doubt its average power, mademoiselle, but really I scarcely know her, and have not had time to study the calibre of her capacity.I wish you a very good afternoon.”
She still pursued me.“You will observe, monsieur, and tell mewhat you think; I could so much better rely on your opinion than on my own; women cannot judge of these things as men can, and, excuse my pertinacity, monsieur, but it is natural I should feel interested about this poor little girl (pauvre petite); she has scarcely any relations, her own efforts are all she has to look to, her acquirements must be her sole fortune; her present position has once been mine, or nearly so; it is then but natural I should sympathize with her; and sometimes when I see the difficulty she has in managing pupils, I reel quite chagrined.I doubt not she does her best, her intentions are excellent; but, monsieur, she wants tact and firmness.I have talked to her on the subject, but I am not fluent, and probably did not express myself with clearness; she never appears to comprehend me.Now, would you occasionally, when you see an opportunity, slip in a word of advice to her on the subject; men have so much more influence than women have—they argue so much more logically than we do; and you, monsieur, in particular, have so paramount a power of making yourself obeyed; a word of advice from you could not but do her good; even if she were sullen and headstrong (which I hope she is not), she would scarcely refuse to listen to you; for my own part, I can truly say that I never attend one of your lessons without deriving benefit from witnessing your management of the pupils.The other masters are a constant source of anxiety to me; they cannot impress the young ladies with sentiments of respect, nor restrain the levity natural to youth: in you, monsieur, I feel the most absolute confidence; try then to put this poor child into the way of controlling our giddy, high-spirited Brabantoises.But, monsieur, I would add one word more; don’t alarm her amour propre; beware of inflicting a wound there.I reluctantly admit thatin that particular she is blamably—some would say ridiculously— susceptible.I fear I have touched this sore point inadvertently, and she cannot get over it.”
During the greater part of this harangue my hand was on thelock of the outer door; I now turned it.
“Au revoir, mademoiselle,” said I, and I escaped.I saw the directress’s stock of words was yet far from exhausted.She looked after me, she would fain have detained me longer.Her manner towards me had been altered ever since I had begun to treat her with hardness and indifference: she almost cringed to me on every occasion; she consulted my countenance incessantly, and beset me with innumerable little officious attentions.Servility creates despotism.This slavish homage, instead of softening my heart, only pampered whatever was stern and exacting in its mood.The very circumstance of her hovering round me like a fascinated bird, seemed to transform me into a rigid pillar of stone; her flatteries irritated my scorn, her blandishments confirmed my reserve.At times I wondered what she meant by giving herself such trouble to win me, when the more profitable Pelet was already in her nets, and when, too, she was aware that I possessed her secret, for I had not scrupled to tell her as much: but the fact is that as it was her nature to doubt the reality and under-value the worth of modesty, affection, disinterestedness—to regard these qualities as foibles of character—so it was equally her tendency to consider pride, hardness, selfishness, as proofs of strength.She would trample on the neck of humility, she would kneel at the feet of disdain; she would meet tenderness with secret contempt, indifference she would woo with ceaseless assiduities.Benevolence, devotedness, enthusiasm, were her antipathies; for dissimulation and self-interest she had a preference—they were real wisdom in her eyes; moral and physical degradation, mental and bodily inferiority, she regarded with indulgence; they were foils capable of being turned to good account as set-offs for her own endowments.To violence, injustice, tyranny, she succumbed—they were her natural masters; she had no propensity to hate, no impulse to resist them; the indignation their behests awake in some hearts was unknown in hers.From all this it resulted that the false and selfish called her wise, the vulgar and debased termed her charitable, the insolent and unjust dubbed her amiable, the conscientious and benevolent generally at first accepted as valid her claim to be considered one of themselves; but ere long the plating of pretension wore off, the real material appeared below, and they laid her aside as a deception.