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Rh good in the world. Thank you, Miss Fanshawe!" And he lifted his hat from his waved locks, and made a mock reverence.

"Yes", he said, "I thank her. She has made me feel that nine parts in ten of my heart have always been sound as a bell, and the tenth bled from a mere puncture, a lancet-prick that will heal in a trice".

"You are angry just now, heated and indignant; you will think and feel differently to-morrow".

"I heated and indignant? You don't know me. On the contrary, the heat is gone; I am as cool as the night—which, by the way, may be too cool for you. We will go back".

"Dr. John—this is a sudden change".

"Not it—or if it be, there are good reasons for it—two good reasons: I have told you one; but now let us re-enter".

We did not easily regain our seats; the lottery was begun, and all was excited confusion; crowds blocked the sort of corridor along which we had to pass: it was necessary to pause for a time. Happening to glance round—indeed I half fancied I heard my name pronounced—I saw quite near, the ubiquitous, the inevitable M. Paul. He was looking at me gravely and intently—at me, or rather, at my pink dress—sardonic comment on which gleamed in his eye. Now it was his habit to indulge in strictures on the dress, both of the teachers and pupils, at Madame Beck's—a habit which the former, at least, held to be an offensive impertinence; as yet I had not suffered from it—my sombre daily attire not being calculated to attract notice. I was in no mood to permit any new encroachments to-night; rather than accept his banter, I would ignore his presence, and accordingly steadily turned my face to the sleeve of Dr. John's coat, finding in that same black sleeve a prospect more redolent of pleasure and comfort, more genial, more friendly I thought than was offered by the dark little Professor's unlovely visage. Dr. John seemed unconsciously to sanction the preference by looking down and saying in his kind voice—

"Aye, keep close to my side, Lucy; these crowding burghers are no respecters of persons".

I could not, however, be true to myself. Yielding to some influence, mesmeric or otherwise—an influence unwelcome, displeasing, but effective, I again glanced round to see if M. Paul was gone. No, there he stood on the same spot, looking