CHAPTER XIII. A SNEEZE OUT OF SEASON.

tegenerally,shestayedtohearwhathehadtosay.Madame’spresencewouldhaveawedherbacktoherownrealmofthevestibuleandthecabinet—formine,orthatofanyotherteacherorpupil,shecarednotajot.Smart,trimandpert,shestood,ahandineachpocketofhergaygrisetteapron,eyeingDr.Johnwithnomorefearorshynessthanifhehadbeenapictureinsteadofalivinggentleman. “Lemarmotn’arien,nest-cepas?”saidshe,indicatingGeorgettewithajerkofherchin. “Pasbeaucoup,”wastheanswer,asthedoctorhastilyscribbledwithhispencilsomeharmlessprescription. “Ehbien!”pursuedRosine,approachinghimquitenear,whileheputuphispencil.“Andthebox—didyougetit?Monsieurwentofflikeacoup-de-venttheothernightIhadnottimetoaskhim.” “Ifoundit:yes.” “Andwhothrewit,then?”continuedRosine,speakingquitefreelytheverywordsIshouldsomuchhavewishedtosay,buthadnoaddressorcouragetobringitout:howshortsomepeoplemaketheroadtoapointwhich,forothers,seemsunattainable! “Thatmaybemysecret,”rejoinedDr.Johnbriefly,butwithnosortofhauteur:heseemedquitetounderstandtheRosineorgrisettecharacter. “Maisenfin,”continuedshe,nothingabashed,“monsieurknewitwasthrown,sincehecametoseekit—howdidheknow?” “Iwasattendingalittlepatientinthecollegenear,”saidhe,“andsawitdroppedoutofhischamberwindow,andsocametopickitup.” Howsimplethewholeexplanation!Thenotehadalludedtoaphysicianasthenexamining“Gustave.” “Ah?a!”pursuedRosine“iln’yadoncrienlà-dessous:pasdemystère,pasd’amourette,parexemple?” “Pasplusquesurmamain,”respondedthedoctor,showinghispalm. “Queldommage!”respondedthegrisette:“etmoi—àquitoutcelacommen?aitàdonnerdesidées.” “Vraiment!vousenêtespourvosfrais,”wasthedoctor’scoolrejoinder. Shepouted.Thedoctorcouldnothelplaughingatthesortof“moue”shemade:whenhelaughed,hehadsomethingpeculiarlygood-naturedandgenialinhislook.Isawhishandinclinetohispocket. “Howmanytimeshaveyouopenedthedoorformewithinthislastmonth?”heasked. “Monsieuroughttohavekeptcountofthat,”saidRosine,quitereadily. “AsifIhadnotsomethingbettertodo!”rejoinedhebutIsawhimgiveherapieceofgold,whichshetookunscrupulously,andthendancedofftoanswerthedoor-bell,ringingjustnoweveryfiveminutes,asthevariousservantscametofetchthehalf-boarders. ThereadermustnotthinktoohardlyofRosineonthewhole,shewasnotabadsortofperson,andhadnoideatherecouldbeanydisgraceingraspingatwhatevershecouldget,oranyeffronteryinchatteringlikeapietothebestgentlemaninChristendom. Ihadlearntsomethingfromtheabovescenebesideswhatconcernedtheivorybox:viz.,thatnotontherobedejaconas,pinkorgrey,noryetonthefrilledandpocketedapron,laytheblameofbreakingDr.John’sheart:theseitemsofarraywereobviouslyguiltlessasGeorgette’slittlebluetunic.Somuchthebetter.Butwhothenwastheculprit?Whatwastheground—whattheorigin—whattheperfectexplanationofthewholebusiness?Somepointshadbeencleared,buthowmanyyetremainedobscureasnight! “However,”Isaidtomyself,“itisnoaffairofyours”andturningfromthefaceonwhichIhadbeenunconsciouslydwellingwithaquestioninggaze,Ilookedthroughthewindowwhichcommandedthegardenbelow.Dr.John,meantime,standingbythebed-side,wasslowlydrawingonhisglovesandwatchinghislittlepatient,ashereyesclosedandherrosylipspartedincomingsleep.Iwaitedtillheshoulddepartasusual,withaquickbowandscarcearticulate“good-night.”.Justashetookhishat,myeyes,fixedonthetallhousesboundingthegarden,sawtheonelattice,alreadycommemorated,cautiouslyopenforthfromtheapertureprojectedahandandawhitehandkerchiefbothwaved.Iknownotwhetherthesignalwasansweredfromsomeviewlessquarterofourowndwellingbutimmediatelyafterthereflutteredfrom,thelatticeafallingobject,whiteandlight—billetthesecond,ofcourse. “There!”Iejaculatedinvoluntarily. “Where?”,askedDr.Johnwithenergy,makingdirectforthewindow.“What,isit?” “Theyhavegoneanddoneitagain,”wasmyreply.“Ahandkerchiefwavedandsomethingfell:”andIpointedtothelattice,nowclose