CHAPTER XII.

idherhandonthejewelwithinwhethershestoleandbrokeit,orwhetherthelidshutagainwithasnaponherfingers,readon,andyoushallknow. IthappenedthatIcameonedaytogivealessonwhenIwasindisposedIhadabadcoldandacoughtwohours’incessanttalkingleftmeveryhoarseandtiredasIquittedtheschoolroom,andwaspassingalongthecorridor,ImetMdlle.Reutersheremarked,withananxiousair,thatIlookedverypaleandtired.“Yes,”Isaid,“Iwasfatigued”andthen,withincreasedinterest,sherejoined,“Youshallnotgoawaytillyouhavehadsomerefreshment.”Shepersuadedmetostepintotheparlour,andwasverykindandgentlewhileIstayed.Thenextdayshewaskinderstillshecameherselfintotheclasstoseethatthewindowswereclosed,andthattherewasnodraughtsheexhortedmewithfriendlyearnestnessnottoover-exertmyselfwhenIwentaway,shegavemeherhandunasked,andIcouldnotbutmark,byarespectfulandgentlepressure,thatIwassensibleofthefavour,andgratefulforit.MymodestdemonstrationkindledalittlemerrysmileonhercountenanceIthoughtheralmostcharming.Duringtheremainderoftheevening,mymindwasfullofimpatiencefortheafternoonofthenextdaytoarrive,thatImightseeheragain. Iwasnotdisappointed,forshesatintheclassduringthewholeofmysubsequentlesson,andoftenlookedatmealmostwithaffection.Atfouro’clocksheaccompaniedmeoutoftheschoolroom,askingwithsolicitudeaftermyhealth,thenscoldingmesweetlybecauseIspoketooloudandgavemyselftoomuchtroubleIstoppedattheglass-doorwhichledintothegarden,tohearherlecturetotheendthedoorwasopen,itwasaveryfineday,andwhileIlistenedtothesoothingreprimand,Ilookedatthesunshineandflowers,andfeltveryhappy.Theday-scholarsbegantopourfromtheschoolroomsintothepassage. “Willyougointothegardenaminuteortwo,”askedshe,“tilltheyaregone?” Idescendedthestepswithoutanswering,butIlookedbackasmuchastosay— “Youwillcomewithme?” InanotherminuteIandthedirectresswerewalkingsidebysidedownthealleyborderedwithfruit-trees,whosewhiteblossomsweretheninfullblowaswellastheirtendergreenleaves.Theskywasblue,theairstill,theMayafternoonwasfullofbrightnessandfragrance.Releasedfromthestiflingclass,surroundedwithflowersandfoliage,withapleasing,smiling,affablewomanatmyside—howdidIfeel?Why,veryenviably.Itseemedasiftheromanticvisionsmyimaginationhadsuggestedofthisgarden,whileitwasyethiddenfrommebythejealousboards,weremorethanrealizedand,whenaturninthealleyshutouttheviewofthehouse,andsometallshrubsexcludedM.Pelet’smansion,andscreenedusmomentarilyfromtheotherhouses,risingamphitheatre-likeroundthisgreenspot,IgavemyarmtoMdlle.Reuter,andledhertoagarden-chair,nestledundersomelilacsnear.ShesatdownItookmyplaceatherside.Shewentontalkingtomewiththateasewhichcommunicatesease,and,asIlistened,arevelationdawnedinmymindthatIwasonthebrinkoffallinginlove.Thedinner-bellrang,bothatherhouseandM.Pelet’swewereobligedtopartIdetainedheramomentasshewasmovingaway. “Iwantsomething,”saidI. “What?”askedZoraidenaively. “Onlyaflower.” “Gatheritthen—ortwo,ortwenty,ifyoulike.” “No—onewilldo--butyoumustgatherit,andgiveittome.” “Whatacaprice!”sheexclaimed,butsheraisedherselfonhertip-toes,and,pluckingabeautifulbranchoflilac,offeredittomewithgrace.Itookit,andwentaway,satisfiedforthepresent,andhopefulforthefuture. CertainlythatMaydaywasalovelyone,anditclosedinmoonlightnightofsummerwarmthandserenity.Irememberthiswellfor,havingsatuplatethatevening,correctingdevoirs,andfeelingwearyandalittleoppressedwiththeclosenessofmysmallroom,Iopenedtheoften-mentionedboardedwindow,whoseboards,however,IhadpersuadedoldMadamePelettohaveremovedsinceIhadfilledthepostofprofessorinthepensionnatdedemoiselles,as,fromthattime,itwasnolonger“inconvenient”formetooverlookmyownpupilsattheirsports.Isatdowninthewindow-seat,restedmyarmonthesill,andleanedout:abovemewastheclear-obscureofacloudlessnightsky—splendidmoonlightsubduedthetremuloussparkleofthestars—belowlaythegarden,variedwithsilverylustreanddeepshade,andallfreshwithdew—agratefulperfumeexhaledfromtheclosedblossomsofthefruit-trees—notaleafstirred,thenightwasbreezeless.MywindowlookeddirectlydownuponacertainwalkofMdlle.Reuter’sgarden,called“l’alleedefendue,”sonamedbecausethepupilswereforbiddentoenteritonaccountofitsproximitytotheboys’school.Itwasherethatthelilacsandlaburnumsgrewespeciallythickthiswasthemostshelterednookintheenclosure,itsshrubsscreenedthegarden-chairwherethatafternoonIhadsatwiththeyoungdirectress.IneednotsaythatmythoughtswerechieflywithherasIleanedfromthelattice,andletmyeyeroam,nowoverthewalksandbordersofthegarden,nowalongthemany-windowedfrontofthehousewhichrosewhitebeyondthemassesoffoliage.Iwonderedinwhatpartofthebuildingwassituatedherapartmentandasinglelight,shiningthroughthepersiennesofonecroisee,seemedtodirectmetoit. “Shewatcheslate,”thoughtI,“foritmustbenownearmidnight.Sheisafascinatinglittlewoman,”Icontinuedinvoicelesssoliloquy“herimageformsapleasantpictureinmemoryIknowsheisnotwhattheworldcallspretty—nomatter,thereisharmonyinheraspect,andIlikeitherbrownhair,herblueeye,thefreshnessofhercheek,thewhitenessofherneck,allsuitmytaste.ThenIrespecthertalenttheideaofmarryingadollorafoolwasalwaysabhorrenttome:Iknowthataprettydoll,afairfool,mightdowellenoughforthehoneymoonbutwhenpassioncool