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natured old woman； but an incessant and most indiscreet talker；
she kept chiefly in and about the kitchen； and seemed rather to
avoid her son’s august presence； of him； indeed； she evidently
stood in awe。 When he reproved her； his reproofs were bitter and
unsparing； but he seldom gave himself that trouble。
Madame Pelet had her own society； her own circle of chosen
visitors； whom； however； I seldom saw； as she generally
entertained them in what she called her “cabinet；” a small den of a
place adjoining the kitchen； and descending into it by one or two
steps。 On these steps； by…the…by； I have not unfrequently seen
Madame Pelet seated with a trencher on her knee； engaged in the
threefold employment of eating her dinner； gossiping with her
favourite servant； the housemaid； and scolding her antagonist； the
cook； she never dined； and seldom indeed took any meal with her
son； and as to showing her face at the boys’ table； that was quite
out of the question。 These details will sound very odd in English
ears； but Belgium is not England； and its ways are not our ways。
Madame Pelet’s habits of life； then； being taken into
consideration； I was a good deal surprised when； one Thursday
evening （Thursday was always a half…holiday）； as I was sitting all
alone in my apartment； correcting a huge pile of English and Latin
exercises； a servant tapped at the door； and； on its being opened；
presented Madame Pelet’s compliments； and she would be happy
to see me to take my “gouter” （a meal which answers to our
English “tea”） with her in the dining…room。
“Plait…il？” said I； for I thought I must have misunderstood； the
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message and invitation were so unusual； the same words were
repeated。 I accepted； of course； and as I descended the stairs； I
wondered what whim had entered the old lady’s brain； her son
was out—gone to pass the evening at the Salle of the Grande
Harmonie or some other club of which he was a member。 Just as I
laid my hand on the handle of the dining…room door； a queer idea
glanced across my mind。
“Surely she’s not going to make love to me；” said I。 “I’ve heard
of old Frenchwomen doing odd things in that line； and the gouter？
They generally begin such affairs with eating and drinking； I
believe。”
There was a fearful dismay in this suggestion of my excited
imagination； and if I had allowed myself time to dwell upon it； I
should no doubt have cut there and then； rushed back to my
chamber； and bolted myself in； but whenever a danger or a horror
is veiled with uncertainty； the primary wish of the mind is to
ascertain first the naked truth； reserving the expedient of flight for
the moment when its dread anticipation shall be realized。 I turned
the door…handle； and in an instant had crossed the fatal threshold；
closed the door behind me； and stood in the presence of Madame
Pelet。
Gracious heavens！ The first view of her seemed to confirm my
worst apprehensions。 There she sat； dressed out in a light green
muslin gown； on her head a lace cap with flourishing red roses in
the frill； her table was carefully spread； there were fruit； cakes；
and coffee； with a bottle of something—I did not know what。
Already the cold sweat started on my brow； already I glanced back
over my shoulder at the closed door； when； to my unspeakable
relief； my eye； wandering mildly in the direction of the stove；
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rested upon a second figure； seated in a large fauteuil beside it。
This was a woman； too； and； moreover； an old woman； and as fat
and as rubicund as Madame Pelet was meagre and yellow； her
attire was likewise very fine； and spring flowers of different hues
circled in a bright wreath the crown of her violet…coloured velvet
bonnet。
I had only time to make these general observations when
Madame Pelet； coming forward with what she intended should be
a graceful and elastic step； thus accosted me：…
“Monsieur is indeed most obliging to quit his books； his studies；
at the request of an insignificant person like me—will Monsieur
complete his kindness by allowing me to present him to my dear
friend Madame Reuter； who resides in the neighbouring house—
the young ladies’ school。”
“Ah！” thought I； “I knew she was old；” and I bowed and took
my seat。 Madame Reuter placed herself at the table opposite to
me。
“How do you like Belgium； Monsieur？” asked she； in an accent
of the broadest Bruxellois。 I could now well distinguish the
difference between the fine and pure Parisian utterance of M。
Pelet； for instance； and the guttural enunciation of the Flamands。 I
answered politely； and then wondered how so coarse and clumsy
an old woman as the one before me should be at the head of a
ladies’ seminary； which I had always heard spoken of in terms of
high commendation。 In truth there was something to wonder at。
Madame Reuter looked more like a joyous； free…living old Flemish
fermière； or even a maitresse d’auberge； than a staid； grave； rigid
directrice de pensionnat。 In general the continental； or at least the
Belgian old women permit themselves a licence of manners；
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speech； and aspect； such as our venerable grand…dames would
recoil from as absolutely disreputable； and Madame Reuter’s jolly
face bore evidence that she was no exception to the rule of her
country； there was a twinkle and leer in her left eye； her right she
kept habitually half shut； which I thought very odd indeed。 After
several vain attempts to comprehend the motives of these two
droll old creatures for inviting me to join them at their gouter； I at
last fairly gave it up； and resigning myself to inevitable
mystification； I sat and looked first at one； then at the other； taking
care meantime to do justice to the confitures； cakes； and coffee；
with which they amply supplied me。 They； too； ate； and that with
no delicate appetite； and having demolished a large portion of the
solids； they proposed a “petit verre。” I declined。 Not so Mesdames
Pelet and Reuter； each mixed herself what I thought rather a stiff
tumbler of punch； and placing it on a stand near the stove； they
drew up their chairs to that convenience； and invited me to do the
same。 I obeyed； and being seated fairly between them； I was thus
addressed first by Madame Pelet； then by Madame Reuter。
“We will now speak of business；” said Madame Pelet； and she
went on to make an elaborate speech； which； being interpreted；
was to the effect that she had asked for the pleasure of my
company that evening in order to give her friend Madame Reuter
an opportunity of broaching an important proposal； which might
turn out greatly to my advantage。
“Pourvu que vous soyez sage；” said Madame Reuter； “et à vrai
dire； vous en avez bien l’air。 Take one drop of the punch” （or
ponche； as she pronounced it）； “it is an agreeable and wholesome
beverage after a full meal。”
I bowed； but again declined it。 She went on：…
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“I feel；” said she； after a solemn sip—“I feel profoundly the
importance of the commission with which my dear daughter has