"'Bonnard'--with a 'd,' is it not?" she asked."Excuse me for being so particular; but my opinion is that proper names have an orthography.We have dictation-lessons in proper names, Monsieur, at this school--historical proper names, of course!"After I had written down my name in a running hand, she inquired whether she should not put down after it my profession, title, quality--such as "retired merchant," "employe," "independent gentleman," or something else.There was a column in her register expressly for that purpose.
"My goodness, Madame!" I said, "if you must absolutely fill that column of yours, put down 'Member of the Institute.'"It was still Mademoiselle Prefere's pelerine I saw before me; but it was not Mademoiselle Prefere who wore it; it was a totally different person, obliging, gracious, caressing, radiant, happy.Her eyes, smiled; the little wrinkles of her face (there were a vast number of them!) also smiled; her mouth smiled likewise, but only on one side.
I discovered afterwards that was her best side.She spoke: her voice had also changed with her manner; it was now sweet as honey.
"You said, Monsieur, that our dear Jeanne was very intelligent.Idiscovered the same thing myself, and I am proud of being able to agree with you.This young girl has really made me feel a great deal of interest in her.She has what I call a happy disposition....
But excuse me for thus drawing upon your valuable time."She summoned the servant-girl, who looked much more hurried and scared than before, and who vanished with the order to go and tell Mademoiselle Alexandre that Monsieur Sylvestre Bonnard, Member of the Institute, was waiting to see her in the parlour.
Mademoiselle Prefere had barely time to confide in me that she had the most profound respect for all decisions of the Institute--whatever they might be--when Jeanne appeared, out of breath, red as a poppy, with her eyes very wide open, and her arms dangling helplessly at her sides--charming in her artless awkwardness.
"What a state you are in, my dear child!" murmured Mademoiselle Prefere, with maternal sweetness, as she arranged the girl's collar.
Jeanne certainly did present an odd aspect.Her hair combed back, and imperfectly held by a net from which loose curls were escaping;her slender arms, sheathed down to the elbows in lustring sleeves;her hands, which she did not seem to know what to do with, all red with chillblains; her dress, much too short, revealing that she had on stockings much too large for her, and shoes worn down at the heel;and a skipping-rope tied round her waist in lieu of a belt,--all combined to lend Mademoiselle Jeanne an appearance the reverse of presentable.
"Oh, you crazy girl!" sighed Mademoiselle Prefere, who now seemed no longer like a mother, but rather like an elder sister.
Then she suddenly left the room, gliding like a shadow over the polished floor.
I said to Jeanne, "Sit down, Jeanne, and talk to me as you would to a friend.Are you not better satisfied here now than you were last year?"She hesitated; then answered with a good-natured smile of resignation, "Not much better."I asked her to tell me about her school life.She began at once to enumerate all her different studies--piano, style, chronology of the Kings of France, sewing, drawing, catechism, deportment...I could never remember them all! She still held in her hands, all unconsciously, the two ends of her skipping-rope, and she raised and lowered them regularly while making her enumeration.Then all at once she became conscious of what she was doing, blushed, stammered, and became so confused that I had to renounce my desire to know the full programme of study adopted in the Prefere Institution.
After having questioned Jeanne on various matters, and obtained only the vaguest of answers, I perceived that her young mind was totally absorbed by the skipping-rope, and I entered bravely into that grave subject.
"So you have been skipping?" I said."It is a very nice amusement, but one that you must not exert yourself too much at; for any excessive exercise of that kind might seriously injure your health, and I should be very much grieved about it Jeanne--I should be very much grieved, indeed!""You are very kind, Monsieur," the young girl said, "to have come to see me and talk to me like this.I did not think about thanking you when I came in, because I was too much surprised.Have you seen Madame de Gabry? Please tell me something about her, Monsieur.""Madame de Gabry," I answered, "is very well.I can only tell you about her, Jeanne, what an old gardener once said of the lady of the castle, his mistress, when somebody anxiously inquired about her:
'Madame is in her road.' Yes, Madame de Gabry is in her own road;and you know, Jeanne, what a good road it is, and how steadily she can walk upon it.I went out with her the other day, very, very far away from the house; and we talked about you.We talked about you, my child, at your mother's grave.""I am very glad," said Jeanne.
And then, all at once, she began to cry.
I felt too much reverence for those generous tears to attempt in any way to check the emotion that had evoked them.But in a little while, as the girl wiped her eyes, I asked her, "Will you not tell me, Jeanne, why you were thinking so much about that skipping-rope a little while ago?""Why, indeed I will, Monsieur.It was only because I had no right to come into the parlour with a skipping-rope.You know, of course, that I am past the age for playing at skipping.But when the servant said there was an old gentleman...oh!...I mean...that a gentleman was waiting for me in the parlour, I was making the little girls jump.Then I tied the rope round my waist in a hurry, so that it might not get lost.It was wrong.But I have not been in the habit of having many people come to see me.And Mademoiselle Prefere never lets us off if we commit any breach of deportment: so I know she is going to punish me, and I am very sorry about it."...
"That is too bad, Jeanne!"
