The Professor (13 page)

"No, monsieur; I should like my wife to be my wife, and not half
my mother."

"She is then a little too old for you?"

"No, monsieur, not a day too old if she suited me in other
things."

"In what does she not suit you, William? She is personally
agreeable, is she not?"

"Very; her hair and complexion are just what I admire; and her
turn of form, though quite Belgian, is full of grace."

"Bravo! and her face? her features? How do you like them?"

"A little harsh, especially her mouth."

"Ah, yes! her mouth," said M. Pelet, and he chuckled inwardly.
"There is character about her mouth—firmness—but she has a very
pleasant smile; don't you think so?"

"Rather crafty."

"True, but that expression of craft is owing to her eyebrows;
have you remarked her eyebrows?"

I answered that I had not.

"You have not seen her looking down then?" said he.

"No."

"It is a treat, notwithstanding. Observe her when she has some
knitting, or some other woman's work in hand, and sits the image
of peace, calmly intent on her needles and her silk, some
discussion meantime going on around her, in the course of which
peculiarities of character are being developed, or important
interests canvassed; she takes no part in it; her humble,
feminine mind is wholly with her knitting; none of her features
move; she neither presumes to smile approval, nor frown
disapprobation; her little hands assiduously ply their
unpretending task; if she can only get this purse finished, or
this bonnet-grec completed, it is enough for her. If gentlemen
approach her chair, a deeper quiescence, a meeker modesty settles
on her features, and clothes her general mien; observe then her
eyebrows, et dites-moi s'il n'y a pas du chat dans l'un et du
renard dans l'autre."

"I will take careful notice the first opportunity," said I.

"And then," continued M. Pelet, "the eyelid will flicker, the
light-coloured lashes be lifted a second, and a blue eye,
glancing out from under the screen, will take its brief, sly,
searching survey, and retreat again."

I smiled, and so did Pelet, and after a few minutes' silence, I
asked:-

"Will she ever marry, do you think?"

"Marry! Will birds pair? Of course it is both her intention and
resolution to marry when she finds a suitable match, and no one
is better aware than herself of the sort of impression she is
capable of producing; no one likes better to captivate in a quiet
way. I am mistaken if she will not yet leave the print of her
stealing steps on thy heart, Crimsworth."

"Of her steps? Confound it, no! My heart is not a plank to be
walked on."

"But the soft touch of a patte de velours will do it no harm."

"She offers me no patte de velours; she is all form and reserve
with me."

"That to begin with; let respect be the foundation, affection the
first floor, love the superstructure; Mdlle. Reuter is a skilful
architect."

"And interest, M. Pelet—interest. Will not mademoiselle
consider that point? "

"Yes, yes, no doubt; it will be the cement between every stone.
And now we have discussed the directress, what of the pupils?
N'y-a-t-il pas de belles etudes parmi ces jeunes tetes?"

"Studies of character? Yes; curious ones, at least, I imagine;
but one cannot divine much from a first interview."

"Ah, you affect discretion; but tell me now, were you not a
little abashed before these blooming young creatures?

"At first, yes; but I rallied and got through with all due
sang-froid."

"I don't believe you."

"It is true, notwithstanding. At first I thought them angels,
but they did not leave me long under that delusion; three of the
eldest and handsomest undertook the task of setting me right, and
they managed so cleverly that in five minutes I knew them, at
least, for what they were—three arrant coquettes."

"Je les connais!" exclaimed M. Pelet. "Elles sont toujours au
premier rang a l'eglise et a la promenade; une blonde superbe,
une jolie espiegle, une belle brune."

"Exactly."

"Lovely creatures all of them—heads for artists; what a group
they would make, taken together! Eulalie (I know their names),
with her smooth braided hair and calm ivory brow. Hortense, with
her rich chesnut locks so luxuriantly knotted, plaited, twisted,
as if she did not know how to dispose of all their abundance,
with her vermilion lips, damask cheek, and roguish laughing eye.
And Caroline de Blemont! Ah, there is beauty! beauty in
perfection. What a cloud of sable curls about the face of a
houri! What fascinating lips! What glorious black eyes! Your
Byron would have worshipped her, and you—you cold, frigid
islander!—you played the austere, the insensible in the presence
of an Aphrodite so exquisite?"

I might have laughed at the director's enthusiasm had I believed
it real, but there was something in his tone which indicated
got-up raptures. I felt he was only affecting fervour in order
to put me off my guard, to induce me to come out in return, so I
scarcely even smiled. He went on:-

"Confess, William, do not the mere good looks of Zoraide Reuter
appear dowdyish and commonplace compared with the splendid charms
of some of her pupils?"

The question discomposed me, but I now felt plainly that my
principal was endeavouring (for reasons best known to himself—at
that time I could not fathom them) to excite ideas and wishes in
my mind alien to what was right and honourable. The iniquity of
the instigation proved its antidote, and when he further added:—

"Each of those three beautiful girls will have a handsome
fortune; and with a little address, a gentlemanlike, intelligent
young fellow like you might make himself master of the hand,
heart, and purse of any one of the trio."

I replied by a look and an interrogative "Monsieur?" which
startled him.

He laughed a forced laugh, affirmed that he had only been joking,
and demanded whether I could possibly have thought him in
earnest. Just then the bell rang; the play-hour was over; it was
an evening on which M. Pelet was accustomed to read passages from
the drama and the belles lettres to his pupils. He did not wait
for my answer, but rising, left the room, humming as he went some
gay strain of Beranger's.

DAILY, as I continued my attendance at the seminary of Mdlle.
Reuter, did I find fresh occasions to compare the ideal with the
real. What had I known of female character previously to my
arrival at Brussels? Precious little. And what was my notion of
it? Something vague, slight, gauzy, glittering; now when I came
in contact with it I found it to be a palpable substance enough;
very hard too sometimes, and often heavy; there was metal in it,
both lead and iron.

Let the idealists, the dreamers about earthly angel and human
flowers, just look here while I open my portfolio and show them a
sketch or two, pencilled after nature. I took these sketches in
the second-class schoolroom of Mdlle. Reuter's establishment,
where about a hundred specimens of the genus "jeune fille"
collected together, offered a fertile variety of subject. A
miscellaneous assortment they were, differing both in caste and
country; as I sat on my estrade and glanced over the long range
of desks, I had under my eye French, English, Belgians,
Austrians, and Prussians. The majority belonged to the class
bourgeois; but there were many countesses, there were the
daughters of two generals and of several colonels, captains, and
government EMPLOYES; these ladies sat side by side with young
females destined to be demoiselles de magasins, and with some
Flamandes, genuine aborigines of the country. In dress all were
nearly similar, and in manners there was small difference;
exceptions there were to the general rule, but the majority gave
the tone to the establishment, and that tone was rough,
boisterous, masked by a point-blank disregard of all forbearance
towards each other or their teachers; an eager pursuit by each
individual of her own interest and convenience; and a coarse
indifference to the interest and convenience of every one else.
Most of them could lie with audacity when it appeared
advantageous to do so. All understood the art of speaking fair
when a point was to be gained, and could with consummate skill
and at a moment's notice turn the cold shoulder the instant
civility ceased to be profitable. Very little open quarrelling
ever took place amongst them; but backbiting and talebearing were
universal. Close friendships were forbidden by the rules of the
school, and no one girl seemed to cultivate more regard for
another than was just necessary to secure a companion when
solitude would have been irksome. They were each and all
supposed to have been reared in utter unconsciousness of vice.
The precautions used to keep them ignorant, if not innocent, were
innumerable. How was it, then, that scarcely one of those girls
having attained the age of fourteen could look a man in the face
with modesty and propriety? An air of bold, impudent flirtation,
or a loose, silly leer, was sure to answer the most ordinary
glance from a masculine eye. I know nothing of the arcana of the
Roman Catholic religion, and I am not a bigot in matters of
theology, but I suspect the root of this precocious impurity, so
obvious, so general in Popish countries, is to be found in the
discipline, if not the doctrines of the Church of Rome. I record
what I have seen: these girls belonged to what are called the
respectable ranks of society; they had all been carefully brought
up, yet was the mass of them mentally depraved. So much for the
general view: now for one or two selected specimens.

The first picture is a full length of Aurelia Koslow, a German
fraulein, or rather a half-breed between German and Russian. She
is eighteen years of age, and has been sent to Brussels to finish
her education; she is of middle size, stiffly made, body long,
legs short, bust much developed but not compactly moulded, waist
disproportionately compressed by an inhumanly braced corset,
dress carefully arranged, large feet tortured into small
bottines, head small, hair smoothed, braided, oiled, and gummed
to perfection; very low forehead, very diminutive and vindictive
grey eyes, somewhat Tartar features, rather flat nose, rather
high-cheek bones, yet the ensemble not positively ugly; tolerably
good complexion. So much for person. As to mind, deplorably
ignorant and ill-informed: incapable of writing or speaking
correctly even German, her native tongue, a dunce in French, and
her attempts at learning English a mere farce, yet she has been
at school twelve years; but as she invariably gets her exercises,
of every description, done by a fellow pupil, and reads her
lessons off a book; concealed in her lap, it is not wonderful
that her progress has been so snail-like. I do not know what
Aurelia's daily habits of life are, because I have not the
opportunity of observing her at all times; but from what I see of
the state of her desk, books, and papers, I should say she is
slovenly and even dirty; her outward dress, as I have said, is
well attended to, but in passing behind her bench, I have
remarked that her neck is gray for want of washing, and her hair,
so glossy with gum and grease, is not such as one feels tempted
to pass the hand over, much less to run the fingers through.
Aurelia's conduct in class, at least when I am present, is
something extraordinary, considered as an index of girlish
innocence. The moment I enter the room, she nudges her next
neighbour and indulges in a half-suppressed laugh. As I take my
seat on the estrade, she fixes her eye on me; she seems resolved
to attract, and, if possible, monopolize my notice: to this end
she launches at me all sorts of looks, languishing, provoking,
leering, laughing. As I am found quite proof against this sort
of artillery—for we scorn what, unasked, is lavishly offered
—she has recourse to the expedient of making noises; sometimes
she sighs, sometimes groans, sometimes utters inarticulate
sounds, for which language has no name. If, in walking up the
schoolroom, I pass near her, she puts out her foot that it may
touch mine; if I do not happen to observe the manoeuvre, and my
boot comes in contact with her brodequin, she affects to fall
into convulsions of suppressed laughter; if I notice the snare
and avoid it, she expresses her mortification in sullen
muttering, where I hear myself abused in bad French, pronounced
with an intolerable Low German accent.

Not far from Mdlle. Koslow sits another young lady by name Adele
Dronsart: this is a Belgian, rather low of stature, in form
heavy, with broad waist, short neck and limbs, good red and white
complexion, features well chiselled and regular, well-cut eyes of
a clear brown colour, light brown hair, good teeth, age not much
above fifteen, but as full-grown as a stout young Englishwoman of
twenty. This portrait gives the idea of a somewhat dumpy but
good-looking damsel, does it not? Well, when I looked along the
row of young heads, my eye generally stopped at this of Adele's;
her gaze was ever waiting for mine, and it frequently succeeded
in arresting it. She was an unnatural-looking being—so young,
fresh, blooming, yet so Gorgon-like. Suspicion, sullen
ill-temper were on her forehead, vicious propensities in her eye,
envy and panther-like deceit about her mouth. In general she sat
very still; her massive shape looked as if it could not bend
much, nor did her large head—so broad at the base, so narrow
towards the top—seem made to turn readily on her short neck.
She had but two varieties of expression; the prevalent one a
forbidding, dissatisfied scowl, varied sometimes by a most
pernicious and perfidious smile. She was shunned by her
fellow-pupils, for, bad as many of them were, few were as bad as
she.

Aurelia and Adele were in the first division of the second class;
the second division was headed by a pensionnaire named Juanna
Trista. This girl was of mixed Belgian and Spanish origin; her
Flemish mother was dead, her Catalonian father was a merchant
residing in the — Isles, where Juanna had been born and whence
she was sent to Europe to be educated. I wonder that any one,
looking at that girl's head and countenance, would have received
her under their roof. She had precisely the same shape of skull
as Pope Alexander the Sixth; her organs of benevolence,
veneration, conscientiousness, adhesiveness, were singularly
small, those of self-esteem, firmness, destructiveness,
combativeness, preposterously large; her head sloped up in the
penthouse shape, was contracted about the forehead, and prominent
behind; she had rather good, though large and marked features;
her temperament was fibrous and bilious, her complexion pale and
dark, hair and eyes black, form angular and rigid but
proportionate, age fifteen.