Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/572

564 this poor child, and she often showed herself capable of self-devotion, but she had been brought up in a bad school, and felt no repugnance in tormenting one who was set in authority over her, who often stood in the way of her secret longings.

“How conscious you looked, Miss Malone, when M. Talobre entered. Do you know him? Have you seen him often before? Do tell me a pretty love-story about him. You have seen him before, haven’t you, now?”

“What right have you to talk so much about your French master? If you are not more prudent, I shall speak to your grandpapa about the advisability of your receiving lessons from a lady—and indeed, Sasha, I don’t approve of—of that kind of teaching.”

In this way Miss Malone artfully contrived to parry the boldest attack, and the presence of old Jansiewich at the Abendessen, or tea-and-supper meal, effectually shielded her from Sasha’s further sarcasms. She sat quietly at her work, as if nothing had happened.

But when the hour of release came, and she was alone in her bedroom (who but governesses and companions know the full blessing of that word alone?), such a storm of passion overpowered her that she lay on the bed and bit her lips till the blood came, lest her sobs should be heard. What tears, what trembling, what fearful gasps told the extent of her sufferings!

“God in Heaven, have pity!” she cried, again and again. “I thought it was over, but now it is come once more—and I shall never, never be at peace. Let me die—let me die and be tempted no longer.”

She prayed once or twice, and grew calmer. Then the calm would wear off as she thought of him, and she would repeat:

“Let me die before it comes! O God! let me die!”

or three weeks passed, during which, to Sasha’s certain knowledge, M. Talobre had never spoken to her governess. It was clear enough that he could not speak to her in the class-room before all the pupils, and she had never allowed herself to be separated from Miss Malone at other times. Indeed, Miss Malone really seemed to avoid any opportunity of meeting the French master in Cannstatt alone, and for once Alexandrina’s ingenuity was baffled. That Miss Malone and M. Talobre were not strangers to each other—that something had occurred during their acquaintance to make, if not the two enemies, at least suspectors, perhaps haters, she could not doubt. What was the mystery?

She had no clue. They met as strangers. Nothing to make other people suspicious of their former life had ever transpired to her knowledge; nothing was likely to transpire. Miss Malone and M. Pierre had both paved the way for good opinions by the very highest of testimonials, both were so well-bred, so respectable, so fenced by conventional proprieties, that a doubt upon their antecedents would have made sensible people laugh. Sasha was sorely perplexed. But with that young lady’s secret feelings after the third week, we have nothing to do. Something—many things occurred to render her opinions regarding her governess and master nugatory as evidence in this story. We must now adhere to facts, and having but a few of them to throw light upon the mystery, they must be carefully studied and followed up. It was M. Talobre’s custom to give his more advanced pupils impromptu pieces of dictation, turning upon such rules of grammar as had been under discussion during the lesson. One day, in the fourth week after his installation, he gave the following:

In the first hurry of having built the Cannstatt Conservatory, on a close and careful inspection you will find some errors were made, which will give me to-night an opportunity of showing you how, between ten feet of length at the base and twelve feet of height at the summit might be there gained, by a judicious displacement of (and all reference to contracts and any money matters being settled afterwards by those who like them) we can so alter and improve the building, so arrange and dispose of our old materials, that we leave a new and more elegant building in Cannstatt together with a model for other architects.

According to his usual custom, the master corrected each pupil’s slate by turns; when Sasha’s was under inspection his brow contracted, and he chided her gently.

“There are many faults of simple spelling,” he said; “more than I can stop to correct—will you kindly do it for me?” he added to Miss Malone; and having dashed here and there on the offending words, passed the slate to her.

He generally made use of the presiding governess in this way, and even Sasha’s quick eye could discern nothing in the action; but if my readers will kindly turn to the dictated sentence above, and connect the words marked by the professor (indicated in italics), he will have very good reason for supposing Miss Malone to be in no ordinary agitation for the rest of the evening.

The lesson finished at seven, and supper was over by eight—only two hours more.

Two hours! Had she been alone they would have been intolerable; as it was, she nerved herself to outward calm by so terrible an effort that when she reached her bedroom, she could not prevent herself from screaming.

Sasha came running out of the door opposite.

“My dear creature, how you frighten me! What is the matter?”

“A spider! horrid, horrid thing! it crawled on me,” and the governess shuddered and clasped her hands over her face.

“What a coward! let me kill it for you,” answered Sasha, good-naturedly taking off her slipper for the purpose.

But the spider was nowhere to be found, and by-and-by the young lady returned.

Ten o’clock struck, and the house was perfectly quiet.

Herr Popp’s habitation was immensely large, and was built after the ordinary way of a German house let to many families. Each logement consisted of four or five rooms opening on to the large staircase by a glass door, the key of which was