CHAPTER XIV. THE FêTE.

abluesash(theVirgin’scolours),apairofwhite,orstraw-colourkidgloves—suchwasthegalauniform,totheassumptionwhereofthathousefulofteachersandpupilsdevotedthreemortalhours.Butthoughsimple,itmustbeallowedthearraywasperfect—perfectinfashion,fit,andfreshnesseveryheadbeingalsodressedwithexquisitenicety,andacertaincompacttaste—suitingthefull,firmcomelinessofLabassecouriencontours,thoughtoostiffforanymoreflowingandflexiblestyleofbeauty—thegeneraleffectwas,onthewhole,commendable. Inbeholdingthisdiaphanousandsnowymass,Iwellrememberfeelingmyselftobeamereshadowyspotonafieldoflightthecouragewasnotinmetoputonatransparentwhitedress:somethingthinImustwear—theweatherandroomsbeingtoohottogivesubstantialfabricssufferance,soIhadsoughtthroughadozenshopstillIlituponacrape-likematerialofpurple-gray—thecolour,inshort,ofdunmist,lyingonamoorinbloom.Mytailleusehadkindlymadeitaswellasshecould:because,asshejudiciouslyobserved,itwas“sitriste—sipenvoyant,”careinthefashionwasthemoreimperative:itwaswellshetookthisviewofthematter,forI,hadnoflower,nojeweltorelieveit:and,whatwasmore,Ihadnonaturalroseofcomplexion. Webecomeobliviousofthesedeficienciesintheuniformroutineofdailydrudgery,buttheywillforceuponustheirunwelcomeblankonthosebrightoccasionswhenbeautyshouldshine. However,inthissamegownofshadow,IfeltathomeandateaseanadvantageIshouldnothaveenjoyedinanythingmorebrilliantorstriking.MadameBeck,too,keptmeincountenanceherdresswasalmostasquietasmine,exceptthatsheworeabracelet,andalargebroochbrightwithgoldandfinestones.Wechancedtomeetonthestairs,andshegavemeanodandsmileofapprobation.NotthatshethoughtIwaslookingwell—apointunlikelytoengageherinterest—butsheconsideredmedressed“convenablement,”“décemment,”andlaConvenanceetlaDécencewerethetwocalmdeitiesofMadame’sworship.Sheevenpaused,laidonmyshoulderherglovedhand,holdinganembroideredandperfumedhandkerchief,andconfidedtomyearasarcasmontheotherteachers(whomshehadjustbeencomplimentingtotheirfaces).“Nothingsoabsurd,”shesaid,“asfordesfemmesm?res‘todressthemselveslikegirlsoffifteen’—quantàla.St.Pierre,elleal’aird’unevieillecoquettequifaitl’ingénue.” Beingdressedatleastacoupleofhoursbeforeanybodyelse,Ifeltapleasureinbetakingmyself—nottothegarden,whereservantswerebusyproppinguplongtables,placingseats,andspreadingclothsinreadinessforthecollationbuttotheschoolrooms,nowempty,quiet,cool,andcleantheirwallsfreshstained,theirplankedfloorsfreshscouredandscarcedryflowersfreshgatheredadorningtherecessesinpots,anddraperies,freshhung,beautifyingthegreatwindows. Withdrawingtothefirstclasse,asmallerandneaterroomthantheothers,andtakingfromtheglazedbookcase,ofwhichIkeptthekey,avolumewhosetitlepromisedsomeinterest,Isatdowntoread.Theglass-doorofthis“classe,”orschoolroom,openedintothelargeberceauacacia-boughscaresseditspanes,astheystretchedacrosstomeetarose-bushbloomingbytheoppositelintel:inthisrose-bushbeesmurmuredbusyandhappy.Icommencedreading.Justasthestillyhum,theemboweringshade,thewarm,lonelycalmofmyretreatwerebeginningtostealmeaningfromthepage,visionfrommyeyes,andtoluremealongthetrackofreverie,downintosomedeepdellofdreamland—justthen,thesharpestringofthestreet-doorbelltowhichthatmuch-triedinstrumenthadeverthrilled,snatchedmebacktoconsciousness. Nowthebellhadbeenringingallthemorning,asworkmen,orservants,orcoiffeurs,ortailleuses,wentandcameontheirseveralerrands.Moreover,therewasgoodreasontoexpectitwouldringalltheafternoon,sinceaboutonehundredexterneswereyettoarriveincarriagesorfiacres:norcoulditbeexpectedtorestduringtheevening,whenparentsandfriendswouldgatherthrongingtotheplay.Underthesecircumstances,aring—evenasharpring—wasamatterofcourse:yetthisparticularpealhadanaccentofitsown,whichchasedmydream,andstartledmybookfrommyknee. Iwasstoopingtopickupthislast,when—firm,fast,straight—rightonthroughvestibule—alongcorridor,acrosscarré,throughfirstdivision,seconddivision,grandsalle—strodeastep,quick,regular,intent.Thecloseddoorofthefirstclasse—mysanctuary—offerednoobstacleitburstopen,andapalet?tandabonnetgrecfilledthevoidalsotwoeyesfirstvaguelystruckupon,andthenhungrilydivedintome. “C’estcela!”saidavoice.“Jelaconnais:c’estl’Anglaise.Tantpis.TouteAnglaise,et,parconséquent,toutebégueulequ’ellesoit—elleferamonaffaire,oujesauraipourquoi.” Then,withacertainsternpoliteness(IsupposehethoughtIhadnotcaughtthedriftofhispreviousuncivilmutterings),andinajargonthemostexecrablethateverwasheard,“Meess——,playyoumust:Iamplantedthere.” “WhatcanIdoforyou,M.PaulEmanuel?”Iinquired:forM.PaulEmanuelitwas,andinastateofnolittleexcitement. “Playyoumust.Iwillnothaveyoushrink,orfrown,ormaketheprude.IreadyourskullthatnightyoucameIseeyourmoyens:playyoucanplayyoumust.” “Buthow,M.Paul?Whatdoyoumean?” “Thereisnotimetobelost,”hewenton,nowspeakinginFrench“andletusthrusttothewallallreluctance,allexcuses,allminauderies.Youmusttakeapart.” “Inthevaudeville?” “Inthevaudeville.Youhavesaidit.” Igasped,horror-struck.Whatdidthelittlemanmean? “Listen!”hesaid.“Thecaseshallbestated,andyoushallthenanswermeYes,orNoandaccordingtoyouranswershallIeverafterestimateyou.” Thescarce-suppressedimpetusofamostirritablenatureglowedinhischeek,fedwithsharpshaftshisglances,anature—theinjudicious,themawkish,thehesitating,thesullen,theaffected,aboveall,theunyielding,mightquicklyrenderviolentandimplacable.Silenceandattentionwasthebestbalmtoapply:Ilistened. “Thewholematterisgoingtofail,”hebegan.“LouiseVanderkelkovhasfallenill—atleastsoherridiculousmotherassertsformypart,Ifeelsureshemightplayifshewould:itisonlygood-willthatlacks.Shewaschargedwithar?le,asyouknow,ordonotknow—itisequal:withoutthatr?letheplayisstopped.Therearenowbutafewhoursinwhichtolearnit:notagirlinthisschoolwouldhearreason,andacceptthetask.Forsooth,itisnotaninteresting,notanamiable,parttheirvileamour-propre—thatbasequalityofwhichwomenhavesomuch—wouldrevoltfromit.Englishwomenareeitherthebestortheworstoftheirsex.Dieusaitquejelesdétestecommelapeste,ordinairement”(thisbetweenhisrecreantteeth).“IapplytoanEnglishwomantorescueme.Whatisheranswer—Yes,orNo?” Athousandobjectionsrushedintomymind.Theforeignlanguage,thelimitedtime,thepublicdisplay…Inclinationrecoiled,Abilityfaltered,Self-respect(that“vilequality”)trembled.“Non,non,non!”saidallthesebutlookingupatM.Paul,andseeinginhisvexed,fiery,andsearchingeye,asortofappealbehindallitsmenace,mylipsdroppedtheword“oui”.Foramomenthisrigidcountenancerelaxedwithaquiverofcontent:quicklybentupagain,however,hewenton,— “Viteàl’ouvrage!Hereisthebookhereisyourr?le:read.”AndIread.Hedidnotcommendatsomepassageshescowledandstamped.Hegavemealesson:Idiligentlyimitated.Itwasadisagreeablepart—aman’s—anempty-headedfop’s.Onecouldputintoitneitherheartnorsoul:Ihatedit.Theplay—ameretrifle—ranchieflyontheeffortsofabraceofrivalstogainthehandofafaircoquette.Oneloverwascalledthe“Ours,”agoodandgallantbutunpolishedman,asortofdiamondintheroughtheotherwasabutterfly,atalker,andatraitor:andIwastobethebutterfly,talker,andtraitor. Ididmybest—whichwasbad,Iknow:itprovokedM.Paulhefumed.Puttingbothhandstothework,IendeavouredtodobetterthanmybestIpresumehegavemecreditforgoodintentionsheprofessedtobepartiallycontent.“Caira!”hecriedandasvoicesbegansoundingfromthegarden,andwhitedressesflutteringamongthetrees,headded:“Youmustwithdraw:youmustbealonetolearnthis.Comewithme.” Withoutbeingallowedtimeorpowertodeliberate,Ifoundmyselfinthesamebreathconvoyedalongasinaspeciesofwhirlwind,up-stairs,uptwopairofstairs,nay,actuallyupthree(forthisfierylittlemanseemedasbyinstincttoknowhiswayeverywhere)tothesolitaryandloftyatticwasIborne,putinandlockedin,thekeybeing,inthedoor,andthatkeyhetookwithhimandvanished. Theatticwasnopleasantplace:Ibelievehedidnotknowhowunpleasantitwas,orheneverwouldhavelockedmeinwithsolittleceremony.Inthissummerweather,itwashotasAfricaasinwinter,itwasalwayscoldasGreenland.Boxesandlumberfilleditolddressesdrapeditsunstainedwall—cobwebsitsunsweptceiling.Wellwasitknowntobetenantedbyrats,byblackbeetles,andbycockroaches—nay,rumouraffirmedthattheghostlyNunofthegardenhadoncebeenseenhere.Apartialdarknessobscuredoneend,acrosswhich,asfordeepermystery,anoldrussetcurtainwasdrawn,bywayofscreentoasombrebandofwintercloaks,pendenteachfromitspin,likeamalefactorfromhisgibbet.Fromamongstthesecloaks,andbehindthatcurtain,theNunwassaidtoissue.Ididnotbelievethis,norwasItroubledbyapprehensionthereofbutIsawaverydarkandlargerat,withalongtail,comeglidingoutfromthatsqualidalcoveand,moreover,myeyefellonmanyablack-beetle,dottingthefloor.Theseobjectsdiscomposedmemore,perhaps,thanitwouldbewisetosay,asalsodidthedust,lumber,andstiflingheatoftheplace.Thelastinconveniencewouldsoonhavebecomeintolerable,hadInotfoundmeanstoopenandpropuptheskylight,thusadmittingsomefreshness.UnderneaththisapertureIpushedalargeemptychest,andhavingmounteduponitasmallerbox,andwipedfromboththedust,Igatheredmydress(mybest,thereadermustremember,andthereforealegitimateobjectofcare)fastidiouslyaroundme,ascendedthisspeciesofextemporethrone,andbeingseated,commencedtheacquisitionofmytaskwhileIlearned,notforgettingtokeepasharplook-outontheblack-beetlesandcockroaches,ofwhich,moreeven,Ibelieve,thanoftherats,Isatinmortaldread. MyimpressionatfirstwasthatIhadundertakenwhatitreallywasimpossibletoperform,andIsimplyresolvedtodomybestandberesignedtofail.Isoonfound,however,thatonepartinsoshortapiecewasnotmorethanmemorycouldmasteratafewhours’notice.Ilearnedandlearnedon,firstinawhisper,andthenaloud.Perfectlysecurefromhumanaudience,Iactedmypartbeforethegarret-vermin.Enteringintoitsemptiness,frivolity,andfalsehood,withaspiritinspiredbyscornandimpatience,Itookmyrevengeonthis“fat,”bymakinghimasfatuitousasIpossiblycould. Inthisexercisetheafternoonpassed:daybegantoglideintoeveningandI,whohadeatennothingsincebreakfast,grewexcessivelyhungry.NowIthoughtofthecollation,whichdoubtlesstheywerejustthendevouringinthegardenfarbelow.(Ihadseeninthevestibuleabasketfulofsmallpatésàlacrême,thanwhichnothinginthewholerangeofcookeryseemedtomebetter).Apaté,orasquareofcake,itseemedtomewouldcomeveryàproposandasmyrelishforthosedaintiesincreased,itbegantoappearsomewhathardthatIshouldpassmyholiday,fastingandinprison.Remoteaswastheatticfromthestreet-doorandvestibule,yettheever-tinklingbellwasfaintlyaudiblehereandalsotheceaselessrollofwheels,onthetormentedpavement.Iknewthatthehouseandgardenwerethronged,andthatallwasgayandgladbelowhereitbegantogrowdusk:thebeetleswerefadingfrommysightItrembledlesttheyshouldstealonmeamarch,mountmythroneunseen,and,unsuspected,invademyskirts.Impat