CHAPTER VII.

dagoguestilleditinstantly.Itwasastonishing,Ithought,howsomildacheckcouldprovesoeffectual.WhenIhadperambulatedthelengthandbreadthoftheclasses,M.Peletturnedandsaidtome— “Wouldyouobjecttotakingtheboysastheyare,andtestingtheirproficiencyinEnglish?” Theproposalwasunexpected.IhadthoughtIshouldhavebeenallowedatleastthreedaystopreparebutitisabadomentocommenceanycareerbyhesitation,soIjuststeppedtotheprofessor’sdesknearwhichwestood,andfacedthecircleofmypupils.Itookamomenttocollectmythoughts,andlikewisetoframeinFrenchthesentencebywhichIproposedtoopenbusiness.Imadeitasshortaspossible:— “Messieurs,prenezvoslivresdelecture.” “AnglaisouFrancais,monsieur?”demandedathickset,moon-facedyoungFlamandinablouse.Theanswerwasfortunatelyeasy:— “Anglais.” Ideterminedtogivemyselfaslittletroubleaspossibleinthislessonitwouldnotdoyettotrustmyunpractisedtonguewiththedeliveryofexplanationsmyaccentandidiomwouldbetooopentothecriticismsoftheyounggentlemenbeforeme,relativetowhomIfeltalreadyitwouldbenecessaryatoncetotakeupanadvantageousposition,andIproceededtoemploymeansaccordingly. “Commencez!”criedI,whentheyhadallproducedtheirbooks.Themoon-facedyouth(bynameJulesVanderkelkov,asIafterwardslearnt)tookthefirstsentence.The“livredelecture”wasthe“VicarofWakefield,”muchusedinforeignschoolsbecauseitissupposedtocontainprimesamplesofconversationalEnglishitmight,however,havebeenaRunicscrollforanyresemblancethewords,asenunciatedbyJules,boretothelanguageinordinaryuseamongstthenativesofGreatBritain.MyGod!howhedidsnuffle,snort,andwheeze!Allhesaidwassaidinhisthroatandnose,foritisthustheFlamandsspeak,butIheardhimtotheendofhisparagraphwithoutprofferingawordofcorrection,whereathelookedvastlyself-complacent,convinced,nodoubt,thathehadacquittedhimselflikearealbornandbred“Anglais.”InthesameunmovedsilenceIlistenedtoadozeninrotation,andwhenthetwelfthhadconcludedwithsplutter,hiss,andmumble,Isolemnlylaiddownthebook. “Arretez!”saidI.Therewasapause,duringwhichIregardedthemallwithasteadyandsomewhatsterngazeadog,ifstaredathardenoughandlongenough,willshowsymptomsofembarrassment,andsoatlengthdidmybenchofBelgians.Perceivingthatsomeofthefacesbeforemewerebeginningtolooksullen,andothersashamed,Islowlyjoinedmyhands,andejaculatedinadeep“voixdepoitrine”— “Commec’estaffreux!” Theylookedateachother,pouted,coloured,swungtheirheelstheywerenotpleased,Isaw,buttheywereimpressed,andinthewayIwishedthemtobe.Havingthustakenthemdownapegintheirself-conceit,thenextstepwastoraisemyselfintheirestimationnotaveryeasything,consideringthatIhardlydaredtospeakforfearofbetrayingmyowndeficiencies. “Ecoutez,messieurs!”saidI,andIendeavouredtothrowintomyaccentsthecompassionatetoneofasuperiorbeing,who,touchedbytheextremityofthehelplessness,whichatfirstonlyexcitedhisscorn,deignsatlengthtobestowaid.Ithenbeganattheverybeginningofthe“VicarofWakefield,”andread,inaslow,distinctvoice,sometwentypages,theyallthewhilesittingmuteandlisteningwithfixedattentionbythetimeIhaddonenearlyanhourhadelapsed.Ithenroseandsaid:— “C’estassezpouraujourd’hui,messieursdemainnousrecommencerons,etj’esperequetoutirabien.” WiththisoracularsentenceIbowed,andincompanywithM.Peletquittedtheschool-room. “C’estbien!c’esttresbien!”saidmyprincipalasweenteredhisparlour.“Jevoisquemonsieuradel’adressecela,meplait,car,dansl’instruction,l’adressefaittoutautantquelesavoir.” FromtheparlourM.Peletconductedmetomyapartment,my“chambre,”asMonsieursaidwithacertainairofcomplacency.Itwasaverysmallroom,withanexcessivelysmallbed,butM.PeletgavemetounderstandthatIwastooccupyitquitealone,whichwasofcourseagreatcomfort.Yet,thoughsolimitedindimensions,ithadtwowindows.LightnotbeingtaxedinBelgium,thepeoplenevergrudgeitsadmissionintotheirhousesjusthere,however,thisobservationisnotveryAPROPOS,foroneofthesewindowswasboardeduptheopenwindowslookedintotheboys’playground.Iglancedattheother,aswonderingwhataspectitwouldpresentifdisencumberedoftheboards.M.Peletread,Isuppose,theexpressionofmyeyeheexplained:— “Lafenetrefermeedonnesurunjardinappartenantaunpensionnatdedemoiselles,”saidhe,“etlesconvenancesexigent—enfin,vouscomprenez—n’est-cepas,monsieur?” “Oui,oui,”wasmyreply,andIlookedofcoursequitesatisfiedbutwhenM.Pelethadretiredandclosedthedoorafterhim,thefirstthingIdidwastoscrutinizecloselythenailedboards,hopingtofindsomechinkorcrevicewhichImightenlarge,andsogetapeepattheconsecratedground.Myresearcheswerevain,fortheboardswerewelljoinedandstronglynailed.ItisastonishinghowdisappointedIfelt.Ithoughtitwouldhavebeensopleasanttohavelookedoutuponagardenplantedwithflowersandtrees,soamusingtohavewatchedthedemoisellesattheirplaytoha