A WEEK is gone;
LE JOUR DES NOCES arrived;
the marriage was
solemnized at St. Jacques; Mdlle.
Zoraide became Madame Pelet,
NEE Reuter; and, in about an
hour after this transformation, "the
happy pair," as newspapers phrase
it, were on their way to Paris;
where, according to previous
arrangement, the honeymoon was
to be spent. The next day I quitted
the pensionnat. Myself and my
chattels (some books and clothes)
were soon transferred to a modest
lodging I had hired in a street
not far off. In half an hour
my clothes were arranged in a
commode, my books on a shelf,
and the "flitting" was effected.
I should not have been unhappy
that day had not one pang tortured
me--a longing to go to the Rue
Notre Dame aux Neiges, resisted,
yet irritated by an inward resolve
to avoid that street till such
time as the mist of doubt should
clear from my prospects.
It was a sweet September evening--very
mild, very still; I had nothing
to do; at that hour I knew Frances
would be equally released from
occupation; I thought she might
possibly be wishing for her master,
I knew I wished for my pupil.
Imagination began with her low
whispers, infusing into my soul
the soft tale of pleasures that
might be.
"You will find her reading
or writing," said she; "you can
take your seat at her side; you
need not startle her peace by
undue excitement; you need not
embarrass her manner by unusual
action or language. Be as you
always are; look over what she
has written; listen while she
reads; chide her, or quietly
approve; you know the effect
of either system; you know her
smile when pleased, you you know
the play of her looks when roused;
you have the secret of awakening
that expression you will, and
you can choose amongst that pleasant
variety. With you she will sit
silent as long as it suits you
to talk alone; you can hold her
under a potent spell: intelligent
as she is, eloquent as she can
be, you can seal her lips, and
veil her bright countenance with
diffidence; yet, you know, she
is not all monotonous mildness;
you have seen, with a sort of
strange pleasure, revolt, scorn,
austerity, bitterness, lay energetic
claim to a place in her feelings
and physiognomy; you know that
few could rule her as you do;
you know she might break, but
never bend under the hand of
Tyranny and Injustice, but Reason
and Affection can guide her by
a sign. Try their influence now.
Go--they are not passions; you
may handle them safely."
"I will NOT go was my answer
to the sweet temptress. "A man
is master of himself to a certain
point, but not beyond it. Could
I seek Frances to-night, could
I sit with her alone in a quiet
room, and address her only in
the language of Reason and Affection?"
"No," was the
brief, fervent reply of that
Love which had
conquered and now controlled
me.
Time seemed to stagnate; the
sun would not go down; my watch
ticked, but I thought the hands
were paralyzed.
"What a hot evening!" I cried,
throwing open the lattice; for,
indeed, I had seldom felt so
feverish. Hearing a step ascending
the common stair, I wondered
whether the "locataire," now
mounting to his apartments, were
as unsettled in mind and condition
as I was, or whether he lived
in the calm of certain resources,
and in the freedom of unfettered
feelings. What! was he coming
in person to solve the problem
hardly proposed in inaudible
thought? He had actually knocked
at the door--at MY door; a smart,
prompt rap; and, almost before
I could invite him in, he was
over the threshold, and had closed
the door behind him.
"And how are you?" asked
an indifferent, quiet voice,
in
the English language; while my
visitor, without any sort of
bustle or introduction, put his
hat on the table, and his gloves
into his hat, and drawing the
only armchair the room afforded
a little forward, seated himself
tranquilly therein.
"Can't you speak?" he inquired
in a few moments, in a tone whose
nonchalance seemed to intimate
that it was much the same thing
whether I answered or not. The
fact is, I found it desirable
to have recourse to my good friends "les
besicles;" not exactly to ascertain
the identity of my visitor--for
I already knew him, confound
his impudence! but to see how
he looked--to get a clear notion
of his mien and countenance.
I wiped the glasses very deliberately,
and put them on quite as deliberately;
adjusting them so as not to hurt
the bridge of my nose or get
entangled in my short tufts of
dun hair. I was sitting in the
window-seat, with my back to
the light, and I had him VIS-A-VIS;
a position he would much rather
have had reversed; for, at any
time, he preferred scrutinizing
to being scrutinized. Yes, it
was HE, and no mistake, with
his six feet of length arranged
in a sitting attitude; with his
dark travelling surtout with
its velvet collar, his gray pantaloons,
his black stock, and his face,
the most original one Nature
ever modelled, yet the least
obtrusively so; not one feature
that could be termed marked or
odd, yet the effect of the whole
unique. There is no use in attempting
to describe what is indescribable.
Being in no hurry to address
him, I sat and stared at my ease.
"Oh, that's your game--is it?" said
he at last. "Well, we'll see
which is soonest tired." And
he slowly drew out a fine cigar-case,
picked one to his taste, lit
it, took a book from the shelf
convenient to his hand, then
leaning back, proceeded to smoke
and read as tranquilly as if
he had been in his own room,
in Grove-street, X---shire, England.
I knew he was capable of continuing
in that attitude till midnight,
if he conceived the whim, so
I rose, and taking the book from
his hand, I said,--
"You did not
ask for it, and you shall not
have it."
"It is silly and dull," he
observed, "so I have not lost
much;" then the spell being broken,
he went on. "I thought you lived
at Pelet's; I went there this
afternoon. expecting to be starved
to death by sitting in a boarding-school
drawing-room, and they told me
you were gone, had departed this
morning; you had left your address
behind you though, which I wondered
at; it was a more practical and
sensible precaution than I should
have imagined you capable of.
Why did you leave?"
"Because M.
Pelet has just married the
lady whom you and
Mr. Brown assigned to me as my
wife."
"Oh, indeed!" replied Hunsden
with a short laugh; "so you've
lost both your wife and your
place?"
"Precisely
so."
I saw him give a quick, covert
glance all round my room; he
marked its narrow limits, its
scanty furniture: in an instant
he had comprehended the state
of matters--had absolved me from
the crime of prosperity. A curious
effect this discovery wrought
in his strange mind; I am morally
certain that if he had found
me installed in a handsome parlour,
lounging on a soft couch, with
a pretty, wealthy wife at my
side, he would have hated me;
a brief, cold, haughty visit,
would in such a case have been
the extreme limit of his civilities,
and never would he have come
near me more, so long as the
tide of fortune bore me smoothly
on its surface; but the painted
furniture, the bare walls, the
cheerless solitude of my room
relaxed his rigid pride, and
I know not what softening change
had taken place both in his voice
and look ere he spoke again.
"You have got
another place?"
"No."
"You are in
the way of getting one?"
"No."
"That is bad;
have you applied to Brown?"
"No, indeed."
"You had better;
he often has it in his power
to give useful
information in such matters."
"He served
me once very well; I have no
claim on him, and am
not in the humour to bother him
again."
"Oh, if you're
bashful, and dread being intrusive,
you need
only commission me. I shall see
him to-night; I can put in a
word."
"I beg you
will not, Mr. Hunsden; I am
in your debt already; you
did me an important service when
I was at X----; got me out of
a den where I was dying: that
service I have never repaid,
and at present I decline positively
adding another item to the account."
"If the wind
sits that way, I'm satisfied.
I thought my unexampled
generosity in turning you out
of that accursed counting-house
would be duly appreciated some
day: 'Cast your bread on the
waters, and it shall be found
after many days,' say the Scriptures.
Yes, that's right, lad--make
much of me--I'm a nonpareil:
there's nothing like me in the
common herd. In the meantime,
to put all humbug aside and talk
sense for a few moments, you
would be greatly the better of
a situation, and what is more,
you are a fool if you refuse
to take one from any hand that
offers it."
"Very well,
Mr. Hunsden; now you have settled
that point,
talk of something else. What
news from X----?"
"I have not settled that point,
or at least there is another
to settle before we get to X----.
Is this Miss Zenobie" (Zoraide,
interposed I)--"well, Zoraide--is
she really married to Pelet?"
"I tell you
yes--and if you don't believe
me, go and ask
the cure of St. Jacques."
"And your heart
is broken?"
"I am not aware
that it is; it feels all right--beats
as
usual."
"Then your
feelings are less superfine
than I took them to
be; you must be a coarse, callous
character, to bear such a thwack
without staggering under it."
"Staggering
under it? What the deuce is
there to stagger
under in the circumstance of
a Belgian schoolmistress marrying
a French schoolmaster? The progeny
will doubtless be a strange hybrid
race; but that's their Look out--not
mine."
"He indulges
in scurrilous jests, and the
bride was his
affianced one!"
"Who said so?"
"Brown."
I'll tell you
what, Hunsden--Brown is an
old gossip."
"He is; but
in the meantime, if his gossip
be founded on less
than fact--if you took no particular
interest in Miss Zoraide --why,
O youthful pedagogue! did you
leave your place in consequence
of her becoming Madame Pelet?"
"Because--" I felt my face
grow a little hot; "because--in
short, Mr. Hunsden, I decline
answering any more questions," and
I plunged my hands deep in my
breeches pocket.
Hunsden triumphed: his eyes--his
laugh announced victory.
"What the deuce
are you laughing at, Mr. Hunsden?"
"At your exemplary
composure. Well, lad, I'll
not bore you;
I see how it is: Zoraide has
jilted you--married some one
richer, as any sensible woman
would have done if she had had
the chance."
I made no reply--I let him
think so, not feeling inclined
to enter into an explanation
of the real state of things,
and as little to forge a false
account; but it was not easy
to blind Hunsden; my very silence,
instead of convincing him that
he had hit the truth, seemed
to render him doubtful about
it; he went on:--
"I suppose
the affair has been conducted
as such affairs always
are amongst rational people:
you offered her your youth and
your talents-such as they are--in
exchange for her position and
money: I don't suppose you took
appearance, or what is called
LOVE, into the account--for I
understand she is older than
you, and Brown says, rather sensible-looking
than beautiful. She, having then
no chance of making a better
bargain, was at first inclined
to come to terms with you, but
Pelet--the head or a flourishing
school--stepped in with a higher
bid; she accepted, and he has
got her: a correct transaction--perfectly
so--business-like and legitimate.
And now we'll talk of something
else."
"Do," said
I, very glad to dismiss the
topic, and especially
glad to have baffled the sagacity
of my cross-questioner--if, indeed,
I had baffled it; for though
his words now led away from the
dangerous point, his eyes, keen
and watchful, seemed still preoccupied
with the former idea.
"You want to
hear news from X----? And what
interest can
you have in X----? You left no
friends there, for you made none.
Nobody ever asks after you--neither
man nor woman; and if I mention
your name in company, the men
look as if I had spoken of Prester
John; and the women sneer covertly.
Our X---- belles must have disliked
you. How did you excite their
displeasure?"
"I don't know.
I seldom spoke to them--they
were nothing to
me. I considered them only as
something to be glanced at from
a distance; their dresses and
faces were often pleasing enough
to the eye: but I could not understand
their conversation, nor even
read their countenances. When
I caught snatches of what they
said, I could never make much
of it; and the play of their
lips and eyes did not help me
at all."
"That was your
fault, not theirs. There are
sensible, as well as
handsome women in X----; women
it is worth any man's while to
talk to, and with whom I can
talk with pleasure: but you had
and have no pleasant address;
there is nothing in you to induce
a woman to be affable. I have
remarked you sitting near the
door in a room full of company,
bent on hearing, not on speaking;
on observing, not on entertaining;
looking frigidly shy at the commencement
of a party, confusingly vigilant
about the middle, and insultingly
weary towards the end. Is that
the way, do you think, ever to
communicate pleasure or excite
interest? No; and if you are
generally unpopular, it is because
you deserve to be so."
"Content!" I
ejaculated.
"No, you are
not content; you see beauty
always turning its
back on you; you are mortified
and then you sneer. I verily
believe all that is desirable
on earth--wealth, reputation,
love--will for ever to you be
the ripe grapes on the high trellis:
you'll look up at them; they
will tantalize in you the lust
of the eye; but they are out
of reach: you have not the address
to fetch a ladder, and you'll
go away calling them sour."
Cutting as these words might
have been under some circumstances,
they drew no blood now. My life
was changed; my experience had
been varied since I left X----,
but Hunsden could not know this;
he had seen me only in the character
of Mr. Crimsworth's clerk--a
dependant amongst wealthy strangers,
meeting disdain with a hard front,
conscious of an unsocial and
unattractive exterior, refusing
to sue for notice which I was
sure would be withheld, declining
to evince an admiration which
I knew would be scorned as worthless.
He could not be aware that since
then youth and loveliness had
been to me everyday objects;
that I had studied them at leisure
and closely, and had seen the
plain texture of truth under
the embroidery of appearance;
nor could he, keen-sighted as
he was, penetrate into my heart,
search my brain, and read my
peculiar sympathies and antipathies;
he had not known me long enough,
or well enough, to perceive how
low my feelings would ebb under
some influences, powerful over
most minds; how high, how fast
they would flow under other influences,
that perhaps acted with the more
intense force on me, because
they acted on me alone. Neither
could he suspect for an instant
the history of my communications
with Mdlle. Reuter; secret to
him and to all others was the
tale of her strange infatuation;
her blandishments, her wiles
had been seen but by me, and
to me only were they known; but
they had changed me, for they
had proved that I COULD impress.
A sweeter secret nestled deeper
in my heart; one full of tenderness
and as full of strength: it took
the sting out of Hunsden's sarcasm;
it kept me unbent by shame, and
unstirred by wrath. But of all
this I could say nothing--nothing
decisive at least; uncertainty
sealed my lips, and during the
interval of silence by which
alone I replied to Mr. Hunsden,
I made up my mind to be for the
present wholly misjudged by him,
and misjudged I was; he thought
he had been rather too hard upon
me, and that I was crushed by
the weight of his upbraidings;
so to re-assure me he said, doubtless
I should mend some day; I was
only at the beginning of life
yet; and since happily I was
not quite without sense, every
false step I made would be a
good lesson.
Just then I turned my face
a little to the light; the approach
of twilight, and my position
in the window-seat, had, for
the last ten minutes, prevented
him from studying my countenance;
as I moved, however, he caught
an expression which he thus interpreted:--
"Confound it!
How doggedly self-approving
the lad looks!
I thought he was fit to die with
shame, and there he sits grinning
smiles, as good as to say, 'Let
the world wag as it will, I've
the philosopher's stone in my
waist-coat pocket, and the elixir
of life in my cupboard; I'm independent
of both Fate and Fortune'"
"Hunsden--you
spoke of grapes; I was thinking
of a fruit I like
better than your X---- hot-house
grapes--an unique fruit, growing
wild, which I have marked as
my own, and hope one day to gather
and taste. It is of no use your
offering me the draught of bitterness,
or threatening me with death
by thirst: I have the anticipation
of sweetness on my palate; the
hope of freshness on my lips;
I can reject the unsavoury, and
endure the exhausting."
"For how long?"
"Till the next
opportunity for effort; and
as the prize
of success will be a treasure
after my own heart, I'll bring
a bull's strength to the struggle."
"Bad luck crushes
bulls as easily as bullaces;
and, I believe,
the fury dogs you: you were born
with a wooden spoon in your mouth,
depend on it."
"I believe
you; sad I mean to make my
wooden spoon do the
work of some people's silver
ladles: grasped firmly, and handled
nimbly, even a wooden spoon will
shovel up broth."
Hunsden rose: "I see," said
he; "I suppose you're one of
those who develop best unwatched,
and act best unaided-work your
own way. Now, I'll go." And,
without another word, he was
going; at the door he turned:--
"Crimsworth Hall is sold," said
he.
"Sold!" was
my echo.
"Yes; you know,
of course, that your brother
failed three
months ago?"
"What! Edward
Crimsworth?"
"Precisely;
and his wife went home to her
fathers; when affairs
went awry, his temper sympathized
with them; he used her ill; I
told you he would be a tyrant
to her some day; as to him--"
"Ay, as to
him--what is become of him?"
"Nothing extraordinary--don't
be alarmed; he put himself under
the protection of the court,
compounded with his creditors
--tenpence in the pound; in six
weeks set up again, coaxed back
his wife, and is flourishing
like a green bay-tree."
"And Crimsworth
Hall--was the furniture sold
too?"
"Everything--from
the grand piano down to the
rolling-pin."
"And the contents
of the oak dining-room--were
they sold?"
"Of course;
why should the sofas and chairs
of that room
be held more sacred than those
of any other?"
"And the pictures?"
"What pictures?
Crimsworth had no special collection
that
I know of--he did not profess
to be an amateur."
"There were
two portraits, one on each
side the mantelpiece;
you cannot have forgotten them,
Mr. Hunsden; you once noticed
that of the lady--"
"Oh, I know!
the thin-faced gentlewoman
with a shawl put
on like drapery.--Why, as a matter
of course, it would be sold among
the other things. If you had
been rich, you might have bought
it, for I remember you said it
represented your mother: you
see what it is to be without
a sou."
I did. "But surely," I thought
to myself, "I shall not always
be so poverty-stricken; I may
one day buy it back yet.--Who
purchased it? do you know?" I
asked.
"How is it likely? I never
inquired who purchased anything;
there spoke the unpractical man--to
imagine all the world is interested
in what interests himself! Now,
good night--I'm off for Germany
to-morrow morning; I shall be
back here in six weeks, and possibly
I may call and see you again;
I wonder whether you'll be still
out of place!" he laughed, as
mockingly, as heartlessly as
Mephistopheles, and so laughing,
vanished.
Some people, however indifferent
they may become after a considerable
space of absence, always contrive
to leave a pleasant impression
just at parting; not so Hunsden,
a conference with him affected
one like a draught of Peruvian
bark; it seemed a concentration
of the specially harsh, stringent,
bitter; whether, like bark, it
invigorated, I scarcely knew.
A ruffled mind makes a restless
pillow; I slept little on the
night after this interview; towards
morning I began to doze, but
hardly had my slumber become
sleep, when I was roused from
it by hearing a noise in my sitting
room, to which my bed-room adjoined--a
step, and a shoving of furniture;
the movement lasted barely two
minutes; with the closing of
the door it ceased. I listened;
not a mouse stirred; perhaps
I had dreamt it; perhaps a locataire
had made a mistake, and entered
my apartment instead of his own.
It was yet but five o'clock;
neither I nor the day were wide
awake; I turned, and was soon
unconscious. When I did rise,
about two hours later, I had
forgotten the circumstance; the
first thing I saw, however, on
quitting my chamber, recalled
it; just pushed in at the door
of my sitting-room, and still
standing on end, was a wooden
packing-case--a rough deal affair,
wide but shallow; a porter had
doubtless shoved it forward,
but seeing no occupant of the
room, had left it at the entrance.
"That is none of mine," thought
I, approaching; "it must be meant
for somebody else." I stooped
to examine the address:--
"Wm. Crimsworth,
Esq., No --, -- St., Brussels."
I was puzzled,
but concluding that the best
way to obtain information
was to ask within, I cut the
cords and opened the case. Green
baize enveloped its contents,
sewn carefully at the sides;
I ripped the pack-thread with
my pen-knife, and still, as the
seam gave way, glimpses of gilding
appeared through the widening
interstices. Boards and baize
being at length removed, I lifted
from the case a large picture,
in a magnificent frame; leaning
it against a chair, in a position
where the light from the window
fell favourably upon it, I stepped
back--already I had mounted my
spectacles. A portrait-painter's
sky (the most sombre and threatening
of welkins), and distant trees
of a conventional depth of hue,
raised in full relief a pale,
pensive-looking female face,
shadowed with soft dark hair,
almost blending with the equally
dark clouds; large, solemn eyes
looked reflectively into mine;
a thin cheek rested on a delicate
little hand; a shawl, artistically
draped, half hid, half showed
a slight figure. A listener (had
there been one) might have heard
me, after ten minutes' silent
gazing, utter the word "Mother!" I
might have said more--but with
me, the first word uttered aloud
in soliloquy rouses consciousness;
it reminds me that only crazy
people talk to themselves, and
then I think out my monologue,
instead of speaking it. I had
thought a long while, and a long
while had contemplated the intelligence,
the sweetness, and --alas! the
sadness also of those fine, grey
eyes, the mental power of that
forehead, and the rare sensibility
of that serious mouth, when my
glance, travelling downwards,
fell on a narrow billet, stuck
in the corner of the picture,
between the frame and the canvas.
Then I first asked, "Who sent
this picture? Who thought of
me, saved it out of the wreck
of Crimsworth Hall, and now commits
it to the care of its natural
keeper?" I took the note from
its niche; thus it spoke:--
"There is a
sort of stupid pleasure in
giving a child sweets,
a fool his bells, a dog a bone.
You are repaid by seeing the
child besmear his face with sugar;
by witnessing how the fool's
ecstasy makes a greater fool
of him than ever; by watching
the dog's nature come out over
his bone. In giving William Crimsworth
his mother's picture, I give
him sweets, bells, and bone all
in one; what grieves me is, that
I cannot behold the result; I
would have added five shillings
more to my bid if the, auctioneer
could only have promised me that
pleasure.
"H. Y. H.
"P.S.--You
said last night you positively
declined adding
another item to your account
with me; don't you think I've
saved you that trouble?"
I muffled the
picture in its green baize
covering, restored
it to the case, and having transported
the whole concern to my bed-room,
put it out of sight under my
bed. My pleasure was now poisoned
by pungent pain; I determined
to look no more till I could
look at my ease. If Hunsden had
come in at that moment, I should
have said to him, "I owe you
nothing, Hunsden--not a fraction
of a farthing: you have paid
yourself in taunts!"
Too anxious to remain any longer
quiescent, I had no sooner breakfasted,
than I repaired once more to
M. Vandenhuten's, scarcely hoping
to find him at home; for a week
had barely elapsed since my first
call: but fancying I might be
able to glean information as
to the time when his return was
expected. A better result awaited
me than I had anticipated, for
though the family were yet at
Ostend, M. Vandenhuten had come
over to Brussels on business
for the day. He received me with
the quiet kindness of a sincere
though not excitable man. I had
not sat five minutes alone with
him in his bureau, before I became
aware of a sense of ease in his
presence, such as I rarely experienced
with strangers. I was surprised
at my own composure, for, after
all, I had come on business to
me exceedingly painful--that
of soliciting a favour. I asked
on what basis the calm rested--I
feared it might be deceptive.
Ere long I caught a glimpse of
the ground, and at once I felt
assured of its solidity; I knew
where it was.
M.Vandenhuten was rich, respected,
and influential; I, poor, despised
and powerless; so we stood to
the world at large as members
of the world's society; but to
each other, as a pair of human
beings, our positions were reversed.
The Dutchman (he was not Flamand,
but pure Hollandais) was slow,
cool, of rather dense intelligence,
though sound and accurate judgment;
the Englishman far more nervous,
active, quicker both to plan
and to practise, to conceive
and to realize. The Dutchman
was benevolent, the Englishman
susceptible; in short our characters
dovetailed, but my mind having
more fire and action than his,
instinctively assumed and kept
the predominance.
This point settled, and my
position well ascertained, I
addressed him on the subject
of my affairs with that genuine
frankness which full confidence
can alone inspire. It was a pleasure
to him to be so appealed to;
he thanked me for giving him
this opportunity of using a little
exertion in my behalf. I went
on to explain to him that my
wish was not so much to be helped,
as to be put into the way of
helping myself; of him I did
not want exertion--that was to
be my part--but only information
and recommendation. Soon after
I rose to go. He held out his
hand at parting--an action of
greater significance with foreigners
than with Englishmen. As I exchanged
a smile with him, I thought the
benevolence of his truthful face
was better than the intelligence
of my own. Characters of my order
experience a balm-like solace
in the contact of such souls
as animated the honest breast
of Victor Vandenhuten.
The next fortnight was a period
of many alternations; my existence
during its lapse resembled a
sky of one of those autumnal
nights which are specially haunted
by meteors and falling stars.
Hopes and fears, expectations
and disappointments, descended
in glancing showers from zenith
to horizon; but all were transient,
and darkness followed swift each
vanishing apparition. M. Vandenhuten
aided me faithfully; he set me
on the track of several places,
and himself made efforts to secure
them for me; but for a long time
solicitation and recommendation
were vain--the door either shut
in my face when I was about to
walk in, or another candidate,
entering before me, rendered
my further advance useless. Feverish
and roused, no disappointment
arrested me; defeat following
fast on defeat served as stimulants
to will. I forgot fastidiousness,
conquered reserve, thrust pride
from me: I asked, I persevered,
I remonstrated, I dunned. It
is so that openings are forced
into the guarded circle where
Fortune sits dealing favours
round. My perseverance made me
known; my importunity made me
remarked. I was inquired about;
my former pupils' parents, gathering
the reports of their children,
heard me spoken of as talented,
and they echoed the word: the
sound, bandied about at random,
came at last to ears which, but
for its universality, it might
never have reached; and at the
very crisis when I had tried
my last effort and knew not what
to do, Fortune looked in at me
one morning, as I sat in drear
and almost desperate deliberation
on my bedstead, nodded with the
familiarity of an old acquaintance
--though God knows I had never
met her before--and threw a prize
into my lap.
In the second week of October,
18--, I got the appointment of
English professor to all the
classes of ---- College, Brussels,
with a salary of three thousand
francs per annum; and the certainty
of being able, by dint of the
reputation and publicity accompanying
the position, to make as much
more by private means. The official
notice, which communicated this
information, mentioned also that
it was the strong recommendation
of M. Vandenhuten, negociant,
which had turned the scale of
choice in my favour.
No sooner had I read the announcement
than I hurried to M. Vandenhuten's
bureau, pushed the document under
his nose, and when he had perused
it, took both his hands, and
thanked him with unrestrained
vivacity. My vivid words and
emphatic gesture moved his Dutch
calm to unwonted sensation. He
said he was happy--glad to have
served me; but he had done nothing
meriting such thanks. He had
not laid out a centime--only
scratched a few words on a sheet
of paper.
Again I repeated to him--
"You have made
me quite happy, and in a way
that suits me; I
do not feel an obligation irksome,
conferred by your kind hand;
I do not feel disposed to shun
you because you have done me
a favour; from this day you must
consent to admit me to your intimate
acquaintance, for I shall hereafter
recur again and again to the
pleasure of your society."
"Ainsi soit-il," was
the reply, accompanied by a
smile of benignant
content. I went away with its
sunshine in my heart.
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