Villette - The Original Classic Edition. Brontë Charlotte

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ "Let that alone--will you?" said a voice in good English; then, in correction, "Qu'est-ce que vous faites donc? Cette malle est a moi." But I had heard the Fatherland accents; they rejoiced my heart; I turned: "Sir," said I, appealing to the stranger, without, in my dis-

       tress, noticing what he was like, "I cannot speak French. May I entreat you to ask this man what he has done with my trunk?"

       Without discriminating, for the moment, what sort of face it was to which my eyes were raised and on which they were fixed, I felt

       in its expression half-surprise at my appeal and half-doubt of the wisdom of interference.

       "Do ask him; I would do as much for you," said I.

       I don't know whether he smiled, but he said in a gentlemanly tone--that is to say, a tone not hard nor terrifying,--"What sort of trunk was yours?"

       I described it, including in my description the green ribbon. And forthwith he took the conductor under hand, and I felt, through all the storm of French which followed, that he raked him fore and aft. Presently he returned to me.

       "The fellow avers he was overloaded, and confesses that he removed your trunk after you saw it put on, and has left it behind at Boue-Marine with other parcels; he has promised, however, to forward it tomorrow; the day after, therefore, you will find it safe at this bureau."

       "Thank you," said I: but my heart sank.

       Meantime what should I do? Perhaps this English gentleman saw the failure of courage in my face; he inquired kindly, "Have you any friends in this city?"

       "No, and I don't know where to go."

       There was a little pause, in the course of which, as he turned more fully to the light of a lamp above him, I saw that he was a

       young, distinguished, and handsome man; he might be a lord, for anything I knew: nature had made him good enough for a prince, I thought. His face was very pleasant; he looked high but not arrogant, manly but not overbearing. I was turning away, in the deep consciousness of all absence of claim to look for further help from such a one as he.

       "Was all your money in your trunk?" he asked, stopping me.

       How thankful was I to be able to answer with truth--"No. I have enough in my purse" (for I had near twenty francs) "to keep me at a quiet inn till the day after tomorrow; but I am quite a stranger in Villette, and don't know the streets and the inns."

       "I can give you the address of such an inn as you want," said he; "and it is not far off: with my direction you will easily find it." He tore a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote a few words and gave it to me. I did think him kind; and as to distrusting him, or his

       advice, or his address, I should almost as soon have thought of distrusting the Bible. There was goodness in his countenance, and

       honour in his bright eyes.

       "Your shortest way will be to follow the Boulevard and cross the park," he continued; "but it is too late and too dark for a woman to go through the park alone; I will step with you thus far."

       He moved on, and I followed him, through the darkness and the small soaking rain. The Boulevard was all deserted, its path miry, the water dripping from its trees; the park was black as midnight. In the double gloom of trees and fog, I could not see my guide; I could only follow his tread. Not the least fear had I: I believe I would have followed that frank tread, through continual night, to the world's end.

       "Now," said he, when the park was traversed, "you will go along this broad street till you come to steps; two lamps will show you where they are: these steps you will descend: a narrower street lies below; following that, at the bottom you will find your inn. They speak English there, so your difficulties are now pretty well over. Good-night."

       31

       "Good-night, sir," said I: "accept my sincerest thanks." And we parted.

       The remembrance of his countenance, which I am sure wore a light not unbenignant to the friendless--the sound in my ear of his voice, which spoke a nature chivalric to the needy and feeble, as well as the youthful and fair--were a sort of cordial to me long after. He was a true young English gentleman.

       On I went, hurrying fast through a magnificent street and square, with the grandest houses round, and amidst them the huge outline of more than one overbearing pile; which might be palace or church--I could not tell. Just as I passed a portico, two mustachioed men came suddenly from behind the pillars; they were smoking cigars: their dress implied pretensions to the rank of gentlemen, but, poor things! they were very plebeian in soul. They spoke with insolence, and, fast as I walked, they kept pace with me a long way.

       At last I met a sort of patrol, and my dreaded hunters were turned from the pursuit; but they had driven me beyond my reckoning: when I could collect my faculties, I no longer knew where I was; the staircase I must long since have passed. Puzzled, out of breath, all my pulses throbbing in inevitable agitation, I knew not where to turn. It was terrible to think of again encountering those bearded, sneering simpletons; yet the ground must be retraced, and the steps sought out.

       I came at last to an old and worn flight, and, taking it for granted that this must be the one indicated, I descended them. The street into which they led was indeed narrow, but it contained no inn. On I wandered. In a very quiet and comparatively clean and well-paved street, I saw a light burning over the door of a rather large house, loftier by a story than those round it. This might be the inn at last. I hastened on: my knees now trembled under me: I was getting quite exhausted.

       No inn was this. A brass-plate embellished the great porte-cochere: "Pensionnat de Demoiselles" was the inscription; and beneath, a name, "Madame Beck."

       I started. About a hundred thoughts volleyed through my mind in a moment. Yet I planned nothing, and considered nothing: I had not time. Providence said, "Stop here; this is your inn." Fate took me in her strong hand; mastered my will; directed my actions: I rang the door-bell.

       While I waited, I would not reflect. I fixedly looked at the street-stones, where the door-lamp shone, and counted them and noted

       their shapes, and the glitter of wet on their angles. I rang again. They opened at last. A bonne in a smart cap stood before me.

       "May I see Madame Beck?" I inquired.

       I believe if I had spoken French she would not have admitted me; but, as I spoke English, she concluded I was a foreign teacher come on business connected with the pensionnat, and, even at that late hour, she let me in, without a word of reluctance, or a mo-ment of hesitation.

       The next moment I sat in a cold, glittering salon, with porcelain stove, unlit, and gilded ornaments, and polished floor. A pendule on the mantel-piece struck nine o'clock.

       A quarter of an hour passed. How fast beat every pulse in my frame! How I turned cold and hot by turns! I sat with my eyes fixed on the door--a great white folding-door, with gilt mouldings: I watched to see a leaf move and open. All had been quiet: not a mouse had stirred; the white doors were closed and motionless.

       "You ayre Engliss?" said a voice at my elbow. I almost bounded, so unexpected was the sound; so certain had I been of solitude. No ghost stood beside me, nor anything of spectral aspect; merely a motherly, dumpy little woman, in a large shawl, a wrapping-

       gown, and a clean, trim nightcap.

       I said I was English, and immediately, without further prelude, we fell to a most remarkable conversation. Madame Beck (for Madame СКАЧАТЬ