SOME time elapsed before I again gave a lesson in the firstclass; the holiday of Whitsuntide occupied three days, and on thefourth it was the turn of the second division to receive myinstructions. As I made the transit of the CARRE, I observed, asusual, the band of sewers surrounding Mdlle. Henri; there wereonly about a dozen of them, but they made as much noise as mighthave sufficed for fifty; they seemed very little under hercontrol; three or four at once assailed her with importunaterequirements; she looked harassed, she demanded silence, but invain. She saw me, and I read in her eye pain that a strangershould witness the insubordination of her pupils; she seemed toentreat order--her prayers were useless; then I remarked that shecompressed her lips and contracted her brow; and her countenance,if I read it correctly, said--"I have done my best; I seem tomerit blame notwithstanding; blame me then who will." I passedon; as I closed the school-room door, I heard her say, suddenlyand sharply, addressing one of the eldest and most turbulent ofthe lot--

"Amelie Mullenberg, ask me no question, and request of me noassistance, for a week to come; during that space of time I willneither speak to you nor help you."

The words were uttered with emphasis--nay, with vehemence--and acomparative silence followed; whether the calm was permanent, Iknow not; two doors now closed between me and the CARRE.

Next day was appropriated to the first class; on my arrival, Ifound the directress seated, as usual, in a chair between the twoestrades, and before her was standing Mdlle. Henri, in anattitude (as it seemed to me) of somewhat reluctant attention.The directress was knitting and talking at the same time. Amidstthe hum of a large school-room, it was easy so to speak in theear of one person, as to be heard by that person alone, and itwas thus Mdlle. Reuter parleyed with her teacher. The face ofthe latter was a little flushed, not a little troubled; there wasvexation in it, whence resulting I know not, for the directresslooked very placid indeed; she could not be scolding in suchgentle whispers, and with so equable a mien; no, it was presentlyproved that her discourse had been of the most friendly tendency,for I heard the closing words--

"C'est assez, ma bonne amie; a present je ne veux pas vousretenir davantage."

Without reply, Mdlle. Henri turned away; dissatifaction wasplainly evinced in her face, and a smile, slight and brief, butbitter, distrustful, and, I thought, scornful, curled her lip asshe took her place in the class; it was a secret, involuntarysmile, which lasted but a second; an air of depression succeeded,chased away presently by one of attention and interest, when Igave the word for all the pupils to take their reading-books. Ingeneral I hated the reading-lesson, it was such a torture to theear to listen to their uncouth mouthing of my native tongue, andno effort of example or precept on my part ever seemed to effectthe slightest improvement in their accent. To-day, each in herappropriate key, lisped, stuttered, mumbled, and jabbered asusual; about fifteen had racked me in turn, and my auricularnerve was expecting with resignation the discords of thesixteenth, when a full, though low voice, read out, in clearcorrect English-

"On his way to Perth, the king was met by a Highland woman,calling herself a prophetess; she stood at the side of the ferryby which he was about to travel to the north, and cried with aloud voice, 'My lord the king, if you pass this water you willnever return again alive!'"--(VIDE the HISTORY OF SCOTLAND).

I looked up in amazement; the voice was a voice of Albion; theaccent was pure and silvery ; it only wanted firmness, andassurance, to be the counterpart of what any well-educated ladyin Essex or Middlesex might have enounced, yet the speaker orreader was no other than Mdlle. Henri, in whose grave, joylessface I saw no mark of consciousness that she had performed anyextraordinary feat. No one else evinced surprise either. Mdlle.Reuter knitted away assiduously; I was aware, however, that atthe conclusion of the paragraph, she had lifted her eyelid andhonoured me with a glance sideways; she did not know the fullexcellency of the teacher's style of reading, but she perceivedthat her accent was not that of the others, and wanted todiscover what I thought; I masked my visage with indifference,and ordered the next girl to proceed.

When the lesson was over, I took advantage of the confusioncaused by breaking up, to approach Mdlle. Henri; she was standingnear the window and retired as I advanced; she thought I wantedto look out, and did not imagine that I could have anything tosay to her. I took her exercise-book; out of her hand; as Iturned over the leaves I addressed her:--

"You have had lessons in English before?" I asked.

"No, sir."

"No! you read it well; you have been in England?"

"Oh, no!" with some animation.

"You have been in English families?"

Still the answer was "No." Here my eye, resting on the flyleaf ofthe book, saw written, "Frances Evan Henri."

"Your name?" I asked

"Yes, sir."

My interrogations were cut short; I heard a little rustlingbehind me, and close at my back was the directress, professing tobe examining the interior of a desk.

"Mademoiselle," said she, looking up and addressing the teacher,"Will you have the goodness to go and stand in the corridor,while the young ladies are putting on their things, and try tokeep some order?"

Mdlle. Henri obeyed.

"What splendid weather!" observed the directress cheerfully,glancing at the same time from the window. I assented and waswithdrawing. "What of your new pupil, monsieur?" continued she,following my retreating steps. "Is she likely to make progressin English?"

"Indeed I can hardly judge. She possesses a pretty good accent;of her real knowledge of the language I have as yet had noopportunity of forming an opinion."

"And her natural capacity, monsieur? I have had my fears aboutthat: can you relieve me by an assurance at least of its averagepower?"

"I see no reason to doubt its average power, mademoiselle, butreally I scarcely know her, and have not had time to study thecalibre of her capacity. I wish you a very good afternoon."

She still pursued me. "You will observe, monsieur, and tell mewhat you think; I could so much better rely on your opinion thanon my own; women cannot judge of these things as men can, and,excuse my pertinacity, monsieur, but it is natural I should feelinterested about this poor little girl (pauvre petite); she hasscarcely any relations, her own efforts are all she has to lookto, her acquirements must be her sole fortune; her presentposition has once been mine, or nearly so; it is then but naturalI should sympathize with her; and sometimes when I see thedifficulty she has in managing pupils, I reel quite chagrined. Idoubt not she does her best, her intentions are excellent; but,monsieur, she wants tact and firmness. I have talked to her onthe subject, but I am not fluent, and probably did not expressmyself with clearness; she never appears to comprehend me. Now,would you occasionally, when you see an opportunity, slip in aword of advice to her on the subject; men have so much moreinfluence than women have--they argue so much more logically thanwe do; and you, monsieur, in particular, have so paramount apower of making yourself obeyed; a word of advice from you couldnot but do her good; even if she were sullen and headstrong(which I hope she is not), she would scarcely refuse to listen toyou; for my own part, I can truly say that I never attend one ofyour lessons without deriving benefit from witnessing yourmanagement of the pupils. The other masters are a constantsource of anxiety to me; they cannot impress the young ladieswith sentiments of respect, nor restrain the levity natural toyouth: in you, monsieur, I feel the most absolute confidence;try then to put this poor child into the way of controlling ourgiddy, high-spirited Brabantoises. But, monsieur, I would addone word more; don't alarm her AMOUR PROPRE; beware of inflictinga wound there. I reluctantly admit that in that particular sheis blameably--some would say ridiculously--susceptible. I fear Ihave touched this sore point inadvertently, and she cannot getover it."

During the greater part of this harangue my hand was on the lockof the outer door; I now turned it.

"Au revoir, mademoiselle," said I, and I escaped. I saw thedirectress's stock of words was yet far from exhausted. Shelooked after me, she would fain have detained me longer. Hermanner towards me had been altered ever since I had begun totreat her with hardness and indifference: she almost cringed tome on every occasion; she consulted my countenance incessantly,and beset me with innumerable little officious attentions.Servility creates despotism. This slavish homage, instead ofsoftening my heart, only pampered whatever was stern and exactingin its mood. The very circumstance of her hovering round me likea fascinated bird, seemed to transform me into a rigid pillar ofstone; her flatteries irritated my scorn, her blandishmentsconfirmed my reserve. At times I wondered what she meant bygiving herself such trouble to win me, when the more profitablePelet was already in her nets, and when, too, she was aware thatI possessed her secret, for I had not scrupled to tell her asmuch: but the fact is that as it was her nature to doubt thereality and under-value the worth of modesty, affection,disinterestedness--to regard these qualities as foibles ofcharacter--so it was equally her tendency to consider pride,hardness, selfishness, as proofs of strength. She would trampleon the neck of humility, she would kneel at the feet of disdain;she would meet tenderness with secret contempt, indifference shewould woo with ceaseless assiduities. Benevolence, devotedness,enthusiasm, were her antipathies; for dissimulation andself-interest she had a preference--they were real wisdom in hereyes; moral and physical degradation, mental and bodilyinferiority, she regarded with indulgence; they were foilscapable of being turned to good account as set-offs for her ownendowments. To violence, injustice, tyranny, she succumbed--theywere her natural masters; she had no propensity to hate, noimpulse to resist them; the indignation their behests awake insome hearts was unknown in hers. From all this it resulted thatthe false and selfish called her wise, the vulgar and debasedtermed her charitable, the insolent and unjust dubbed heramiable, the conscientious and benevolent generally at firstaccepted as valid her claim to be considered one of themselves;but ere long the plating of pretension wore off, the realmaterial appeared below, and they laid her aside as a deception.