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“This it； yours； I suppose？” said I； addressing her in English； for
I now felt sure she could speak English。
“Yes；” she answered distinctly； and as I unrolled it and laid it
out flat on the desk before her with my hand upon it； and a pencil
in that hand； I saw her moved； and； as it were； kindled； her
depression beamed as a cloud might behind which the sun is
burning。
“This devoir has numerous faults；” said I。 “It will take you some
years of careful study before you are in a condition to write
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English with absolute correctness。 Attend： I will point out some
principal defects。” And I went through it carefully； noting every
error； and demonstrating why they were errors； and how the
words or phrases ought to have been written。 In the course of this
sobering process she became calm。 I now went on：—
“As to the substance of your devoir； Mdlle Henri； it has
surprised me； I perused it with pleasure； because I saw in it some
proofs of taste and fancy。 Taste and fancy are not the highest gifts
of the human mind； but such as they are you possess them—not
probably in a paramount degree； but in a degree beyond what the
majority can boast。 You may then take courage； cultivate the
faculties that God and nature have bestowed on you； and do not
fear in any crisis of suffering； under any pressure of injustice； to
derive free and full consolation from the consciousness of their
strength and rarity。”
“Strength and rarity！” I repeated to myself； “ay； the words are
probably true；” for on looking up； I saw the sun had dissevered its
screening cloud； her countenance was transfigured； a smile shone
in her eyes—a smile almost triumphant； it seemed to say—
“I am glad you have been forced to discover so much of my
nature； you need not so carefully moderate your language。 Do you
think I am myself a stranger to myself？ What you tell me in terms
so qualified； I have known fully from a child。”
She did say this as plainly as a frank and flashing glance could；
but in a moment the glow of her complexion； the radiance of her
aspect； had subsided； if strongly conscious of her talents； she was
equally conscious of her harassing defects； and the remembrance
of these obliterated for a single second； now reviving with sudden
force； at once subdued the too vivid characters in which her sense
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The Professor 163
of her powers had been expressed。 So quick was the revulsion of
feeling； I had not time to cheek her triumph by reproof； ere I could
contract my brows to a frown she had become serious and almost
mournful…looking。
“Thank you； sir；” said she； rising。 There was gratitude both in
her voice and in the look with which she accompanied it。 It was
time； indeed； for our conference to terminate； for； when I glanced
around； behold all the boarders （the day…scholars had departed）
were congregated within a yard or two of my desk； and stood
staring with eyes and mouths wide open； the three maitresses
formed a whispering knot in one corner； and； close at my elbow；
was the directress； sitting on a low chair； calmly clipping the
tassels of her finished purse。
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The Professor 164
Chapter XVII
fter all I had profited but imperfectly by the opportunity I
Ahad so boldly achieved of speaking to Mdlle Henri； it was
my intention to ask her how she came to be possessed of
two English baptismal names； Frances and Evans； in addition to
her French surname； also whence she derived her good accent。 I
had forgotten both points； or； rather； our colloquy had been so
brief that I had not had time to bring them forward； moreover； I
had not half tested her powers of speaking English； all I had
drawn from her in that language were the words “Yes；” and
“Thank you； sir。” “No matter；” I reflected。 “What has been left
incomplete now； shall be finished another day。” Nor did I fail to
keep the promise thus made to myself。 It was difficult to get even a
few words of particular conversation with one pupil among so
many； but； according to the old proverb； “Where there is a will；
there is a way；” and again and again I managed to find an
opportunity for exchanging a few words with Mdlle Henri；
regardless that envy stared and detraction whispered whenever I
approached her。
“Your book an instant。” Such was the mode in which I often
began these brief dialogues； the time was always just at the
conclusion of the lesson； and motioning to her to rise； I installed
myself in her place； allowing her to stand deferentially at my side；
for I esteemed it wise and right in her case to enforce strictly all
forms ordinarily in use between master and pupil； the rather
because I perceived that in proportion as my manner grew austere
and magisterial； hers became easy and self…possessed—an odd
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contradiction； doubtless； to the ordinary effect in such cases； but
so it was。
“A pencil；” said I； holding out my hand without looking at her。
（I am now about to sketch a brief report of the first of these
conferences。） She gave me one； and while I underlined some
errors in a grammatical exercise she had written； I observed—
“You are not a native of Belgium？”
“No。”
“Nor of France？”
“No。”
“Where； then； is your birthplace？”
“I was born at Geneva。”
“You don’t call Frances and Evans Swiss names； I presume？”
“No； sir； they are English names。”
“Just so； and is it the custom of the Genevese to give their
children English appellatives？”
“Non； Monsieur； mais—”
“Speak English； if you please。”
“Mais—”
“English—”
“But” （slowly and with embarrassment） “my parents were not
all the two Genevese。”
“Say both； instead of ‘all the two；’ mademoiselle。”
“Not both Swiss： my mother was English。”
“Ah！ and of English extraction？”
“Yes—her ancestors were all English。”
“And your father？”
“He was Swiss。”
“What besides？ What was his profession？”
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“Ecclesiastic—pastor—he had a church。”
“Since your mother is an Englishwoman； why do you not speak
English with more facility？”
“Maman est morte； il y a dix ans。”
“And you do homage to her memory by forgetting her language。
Have the goodness to put French out of your mind so long as I
converse with you—keep to English。”
“C’est si difficile； monsieur； quand on n’en a plus l’habitude。”
“You had the habitude formerly； I suppose？ Now answer me in
your mother tongue。”
“Yes； sir； I spoke the English more than the French when I was
a child。”
“Why do you not speak it now？”
“Because I have no English friends。”
“You live with your father； I suppose？”
“My father is dead。”
“You have brothers and sisters？”
“Not one。”
“Do you live alone？”
“No—I have an aunt—ma tante Julienne。”
“Your father’s sister？”
“Justement； monsieur。”
“Is that English？”
“No—but I forget—”
“For which； mademoiselle； if you were a child I