Page:Villette.djvu/108

Rh Under these circumstances what could I hear? A great deal, certainly; had it only been to the purpose.

Yes; I heard a giddy treble laugh in the above-mentioned little cabinet, close by the door of which I stood—that door half-unclosed; a man's voice in a soft, deep, pleading tone, uttered some words, whereof I only caught the adjuration, "For God's sake!" Then, after a second's pause, forth issued Dr. John, his eye full-shining, but not with either joy or triumph; his fair English cheek high-colored; a baffled, torturous, anxious, and yet a tender meaning on his brow.

The open door served me as a screen; but had I been full in this way I believe he would have passed without seeing me. Some mortification, some strong vexation had hold of his soul: or rather, to write my impressions now as I received them at the time, I should say some sorrow, some sense of injustice. I did not so much think his pride was hurt, as that his affections had been wounded—cruelly wounded it seemed to me. But who was the torturer? What being in that house had him so much in her power? Madame I believed to be in her chamber; the room whence he had stepped was dedicated to the portresse's sole use; and she, Rosine Matou, and unprincipled though pretty little French grisette, airy, fickle, dressy, vain, and mercenary—it was no, surely, to her hand he owed the ordeal through which he seemed to have passed?

But while I pondered, her voice, clear though somewhat sharp, broke out in a lightsome French song, trilling though the door still ajar: I glanced in, doubting my senses. There at the table she sat in a smart dress of "joconas rose", trimming a tiny blond cap: not a living thing save herself was in the room, except indeed some gold-fish in a glass globe, some flowers in pots, and a broad July sunbeam.

Here was a problem: but I must go upstairs to ask about the medicine.

Dr. John sat in a chair at Georgette's bedside; madame stood before him; the little patient had been examined and soothed, and now lay composed in her crib. Madame Beck, as I entered, was discussing the physician's own health, remarking on some real or fancied change in his looks, charging him with over-work, and recommending rest and change of air. He listened good-naturedly, but with laughing