A Fluttered Dovecote

by George Manville Fenn

lamorte_'. It quite brings the tears into my eyes. But I am getting onwith my Italian so famously."

  "So it seems," I said, maliciously; "but does he know that you call himyour Italian?"

  "Now, don't be such a wicked old quiz," said Clara. "You know what Imean--my Italian lessons. We have nearly gone through `_I MieiPrigioni_', and it does seem so romantic. You might almost fancy he wasSilvio Pellico himself. I hope you will like him."

  "No, you don't," I said, mockingly. "I'm sure I do," said Clara; "Isaid _like_, didn't I?"

  I was about to reply with some sharp saying, but just then I beganthinking about the Reverend Theodore Saint Purre and his sad, patientface, and that seemed to stop me.

  "But I know whom you will like," said Clara. "Just stop till some onecomes--you'll see."

  "And who may that be, you little goose?" I cried, contemptuously.

  "Monsieur Achille de Tiraille, young ladies," squeaked Miss Furness. "Ihope the exercises are ready."

  Clara looked at me with her handsome eyes twinkling, and then we hurriedin, or rather Clara hurried me in; and we went into the classroom.Almost directly after, the French master was introduced by Miss Sloman,who frowned at me, and motioned to me to remain standing. I had risenwhen he entered, and then resumed my seat; for I believe Miss Slomantook a dislike to me from the first, because I laughed upon the day whenshe overset the little table while performing her act of deportment.

  But I thought no more of Miss Sloman just then, for I knew that Clara'seyes were upon me, and I could feel the hot blood flushing up in mycheeks and tingling in my forehead; while I knew too--nay, I could feel,that another pair of eyes were upon me, eyes that I had seen in therailway carriage, at the station, in my dreams; and I quite shivered asMiss Sloman led me up to the front of a chair where some one wassitting, and I heard her cracked-bell voice say,--

  "The new pupil, Monsieur Achille: Miss Bozerne."

  I could have bitten my lips with anger for being so startled and takenaback before the dark foreign gentleman of whom I have before spoken.

  Oh, me! sinner that I am, I cannot tell much about that dreadfulafternoon. I have only some recollection of stumbling through a page ofTelemaque in a most abominable manner, so badly that I could havecried--I, too, who would not condescend to make use of Mr Moy Thomas asa translator, but read and revelled in "_Les Miserables_" and doated onthat Don Juan of a Gilliat in "_Les Travailleurs de Mer_" though I nevercould quite understand how he could sit still and be drowned, for thewater always seems to pop you up so when you're bathing; but, then,perhaps it is different when one is going to drown oneself, and in spiteof the horrors which followed I never quite made up my mind to do that.

  There I was, all through that lesson--I, with my pure French accent andfluent speech, condemned to go on blundering through a page of poor oldTelemaque, after having almost worshipped that dear old Dumas, andfallen in love with Bussy, and Chicot, and Athos, and Porthos, andAramis, and D'Artagnan, and I don't know how many more--but stop; let mesee. No, I did not like Porthos of the big baldric, for he was a greatbooby; but as for Chicot--there, I must consider. I can't help it; Iwandered then--I wandered all the time I was at Mrs Blunt's, wanderedfrom duty and everything. But was I not prisoned like a poor dove, andwas it not likely that I should beat my breast against the bars in myefforts to escape? Ah, well! I am safe at home once more, writing andrevelling in tears--patient, penitent, and at peace; but as I recallthat afternoon, it seems one wild vision of burning eyes, till I waswalking in the garden with Clara and that stupid Patty Smith.

  "Don't be afraid to talk," whispered Clara, who saw how _distraite_ Iwas; "she's only a child, though she is so big."

  I did not reply, but I recalled her own silence on the previous night.

  "You won't tell tales, will you, Patty?" said Clara.

  "No," said Patty, sleepily; "I never do, do I? But I shall, though,"with a grin lighting up her fat face--"I shall, though, if you don't dothe exercise for me that horrid Frenchman has left. I can't do it, andI sha'n't, and I won't, so now then."

  And then the great, stupid thing made a grimace like a rude child.

  It was enough to make one slap her, to hear such language; for I'm sureMonsieur de Tiraille was so quiet and gentlemanly, and--and--well, hewas not handsome, but with such eyes. I can't find a word to describethem, for picturesque won't do. And then, too, he spoke such excellentEnglish.

  I suppose I must have looked quite angrily at Patty, for just then Clarapinched my arm.

  "I thought so," said she, laughing; "you won't make me jealous, dear,about the Signor, now, will you, you dear, handsome girl? I declare Iwas quite frightened about you at first."

  "Don't talk such nonsense," I said, though I could not help feelingflattered. "Whatever can you mean?"

  "Oh, nothing at all," said Clara, laughing. "You can't know what Imean. But come and sit down here, the seat is dry now. Are not flowerssweet after the rain?"

  So we went and sat down under the hawthorn; and then Clara, who had beenat the Cedars two years, began to talk about Monsieur Achille, who wasalso a refugee, and who was obliged to stay over here on account of theFrench President; and a great deal more she told me, but I could not paymuch attention, for my thoughts would keep carrying me away, so that Iwas constantly going over the French lesson again and again, andthinking of how stupid I must have looked, and all on in that way, whenit did not matter the least bit in the world; and so I kept tellingmyself.

  "There!" exclaimed Clara, all at once; "I never did know so tiresome agirl. Isn't she, Patty, tiresome beyond all reason?"

  But Patty was picking and eating the sour gooseberries--a nasty pig!--and took not the slightest notice of the question.

  "It is tiresome," said Clara again; "for I've been talking to you forthe last half-hour, about what I am sure you would have liked to know,and I don't believe that you heard hardly a word; for you kept on saying`um!' and `ah,' and `yes'; and now there's the tea-bell ringing. But Iam glad that you have come, for I did want a companion so badly. Pattyis so big and so stupid; and all the other girls seem to pair off whenthey sleep in the same rooms. And, besides, when we are both thinking--that is, both--both--you know. There, don't look like that! How drollit is of you to pretend to be so innocent, when you know all the whilewhat I mean!"

  I could not help laughing and squeezing Clara's hand as I went in; forsomehow I did not feel quite so dumpy and low-spirited as I did a fewhours before; and, as I sat over the thick bread-and-butter they gaveus--though we were what, in more common schools, they would have calledparlour boarders--I began to have a good look about me, and to take alittle more notice of both pupils and teachers, giving an eye, too, atMrs Fortesquieu de Blount.

  Only to think of the artfulness of that woman, giving herself such agrand name, and the stupidity of people themselves to be so taken in.But so it was; for I feel sure it was nothing else but the "Fortesquieude Blount" which made mamma decide upon sending me to the Cedars. Andthere I sat, wondering how it would be possible for me to manage to getthrough a whole year, when I declare if I did not begin to sighterribly. It was the coming back to all this sort of thing, afterfancying it was quite done with; while the being marched out two andtwo, as we had been that day, all round the town and along the bestwalks, for a perambulating advertisement of the Cedars, Allsham, wasterrible to me. It seemed so like making a little girl of me once more,when I was so old that I could feel a red spot burning in each cheekwhen I went out; and I told Clara of them, but she said they were causedby pasty wasters and French lessons, and not by annoyance; while, when Ilooked angrily round at her, she laughed.

  It would not have mattered so much if the teachers had been nice,pleasant, lady-like bodies, and would have been friendly and kind; butthey would not, for the sole aim of their lives seemed to be to make thepupils uncomfortable, and find fault; and the longer I was there themore I found this out, which was, as a matter of course, only natural.If we were out walking--no
w we were walking too fast, so that theyounger pupils could not keep up with us; or else we were said to crawlso that they were treading on our heels; and do what we would, try howwe would, at home or abroad, we were constantly wrong. Then over thelessons they were always snapping and catching us up and worrying, tillit was quite miserable. As to that Miss Furness, I believe honestlythat nothing annoyed her more than a lesson being said perfectly, and sodepriving her of the chance of finding fault.

  Now pray why is it that people engaged in teaching must always be sourand disappointed-looking, and ready to treat those who are their pupilsas if they were