The Professor / Учитель. Книга для чтения на английском языке

She did say this as plainly as a frank and flashing glance could, but in a moment the glow of her complexion, the radiance of her aspect, had subsided; if strongly conscious of her talents, she was equally conscious of her harassing defects, and the remembrance of these obliterated for a single second, now reviving with sudden force, at once subdued the too vivid characters in which her sense of her powers had been expressed. So quick was the revulsion of feeling, I had not time to check her triumph by reproof; ere I could contract my brows to a frown she had become serious and almost mournful-looking.

“Thank you, sir,” said she, rising. There was gratitude both in her voice and in the look with which she accompanied it. It was time, indeed, for our conference to terminate[307]; for, when I glanced around, behold all the boarders (the day-scholars had departed) were congregated within a yard or two of my desk, and stood staring with eyes and mouths wide open; the three maîtresses formed a whispering knot in one corner, and, close at my elbow, was the directress, sitting on a low chair, calmly clipping the tassels of her finished purse.

Chapter XVII

After all I had profited but imperfectly by the opportunity I had so boldly achieved of speaking to Mdlle. Henri; it was my intention to ask her how she came to be possessed of two English baptismal names, Frances and Evans, in addition to her French surname, also whence she derived her good accent. I had forgotten both points, or, rather, our colloquy had been so brief that I had not had time to bring them forward; moreover, I had not half tested her powers of speaking English[308]; all I had drawn from her in that language were the words “Yes,” and “Thank you, sir.”

“No matter,” I reflected. “What has been left incomplete now, shall be finished another day.” Nor did I fail to keep the promise thus made to myself. It was difficult to get even a few words of particular conversation with one pupil among so many; but, according to the old proverb, “Where there is a will, there is a way[309];” and again and again I managed to find an opportunity for exchanging a few words with Mdlle. Henri, regardless that envy stared and detraction whispered whenever I approached her.

“Your book an instant.” Such was the mode in which I often began these brief dialogues; the time was always just at the conclusion of the lesson; and motioning to her to rise, I installed myself in her place, allowing her to stand deferentially at my side; for I esteemed it wise and right in her case to enforce strictly all forms ordinarily in use between master and pupil; the rather because I perceived that in proportion as my manner grew austere and magisterial, hers became easy and self-possessed – an odd contradiction, doubtless, to the ordinary effect in such cases; but so it was.

“A pencil,” said I, holding out my hand without looking at her. (I am now about to sketch a brief report of the first of these conferences.) She gave me one, and while I underlined some errors in a grammatical exercise she had written, I observed:

“You are not a native of Belgium?”

“No.”

“Nor of France?”

“No.”

“Where, then, is your birthplace?”

“I was born at Geneva.”

“You don’t call Frances and Evans Swiss names, I presume?”

“No, sir; they are English names.”

“Just so; and is it the custom of the Genevese to give their children English appellatives?”

“Non, Monsieur; mais[310] – ”

“Speak English, if you please.”

“Mais – ”

“English – ”

“But” (slowly and with embarrassment) “my parents were not all the two Genevese.”

“Say BOTH, instead of ‘all the two,’ mademoiselle.”

“Not BOTH Swiss: my mother was English.”

“Ah! and of English extraction?”

“Yes – her ancestors were all English.”

“And your father?”

“He was Swiss.”

“What besides? What was his profession?”

“Ecclesiastic – pastor – he had a church.”

“Since your mother is an Englishwoman, why do you not speak English with more facility?”

“Maman est morte, il y a dix ans.[311]”

“And you do homage to her memory by forgetting her language. Have the goodness to put French out of your mind so long as I converse with you – keep to English.”

“C’est si difficile, monsieur, quand on n’en a plus l’habitude.[312]”

“You had the habitude formerly, I suppose? Now answer me in your mother tongue.”

“Yes, sir, I spoke the English more than the French when I was a child.”

“Why do you not speak it now?”

“Because I have no English friends.”

“You live with your father, I suppose?”

“My father is dead.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

“Not one.”

“Do you live alone?”

“No – I have an aunt – ma tante Julienne[313].”

“Your father’s sister?”

“Justement, monsieur[314].”

“Is that English?”

“No – but I forget – ”