Villette

of anger like his, than to bear its menace at a distance.
    At his estrade I paused, just in front; of course I was not worthy of immediate attention: he proceeded with his lesson. Disdain would not do: he must hear and he must answer my message.
    Not being quite tall enough to lift my head over his desk, elevated upon the estrade, and thus suffering eclipse in my present position, I ventured to peep round, with the design, at first, of merely getting a better view of his face, which had struck me when I entered as bearing a close and picturesque resemblance to that of a black and sallow tiger. Twice did I enjoy this side-view with impunity, advancing and receding unseen; the third time my eye had scarce dawned beyond the obscuration of the desk, when it was caught and transfixed through its very pupil – transfixed by the ›lunettes.‹ Rosine was right; these utensils had in them a blank and immutable terror, beyond the mobile wrath of the wearer's own unglazed eyes.
    I now found the advantage of proximity: these short-sighted ›lunettes‹ were useless for the inspection of a criminal under Monsieur's nose; accordingly, he doffed them, and he and I stood on more equal terms.
    I am glad I was not really much afraid of him – that, indeed, close in his presence, I felt no terror at all; for upon his demanding cord and gibbet to execute the sentence recently pronounced, I was able to furnish him with a needleful of embroidering thread with such accommodating civility as could not but allay some portion at least of his surplus irritation. Of course I did not parade this courtesy before public view: I merely handed the thread round the angle of the desk, and attached it, ready noosed, to the barred back of the Professor's chair.
    »Que me voulez-vous?« said he, in a growl of which the music was wholly confined to his chest and throat, for he kept his teeth clenched, and seemed registering to himself an inward vow, that nothing earthly should wring from him a smile. My answer commenced uncompromisingly: –
    »Monsieur,« I said, »je veux l'impossible, des choses inouies;« and thinking it best not to mince matters, but to administer the ›douche‹ with decision, in a low but quick voice, I delivered the Athenian message, floridly exaggerating its urgency.
    Of course, he would not hear a word of it. »He would not go; he would not leave his present class, let all the officials in Villette send for him. He would not put himself an inch out of his way at the bidding of king, cabinet, and chambers together.«
    I knew, however, that he
must
go; that, talk as he would, both his duty and interest commanded an immediate and literal compliance with the summons: I stood, therefore, waiting in silence, as if he had not yet spoken. He asked what more I wanted.
    »Only Monsieur's answer to deliver to the commissionaire.«
    He waved an impatient negative.
    I ventured to stretch my hand to the bonnet-grec which lay in grim repose on the window-sill. He followed this daring movement with his eye, no doubt in mixed pity and amazement at its presumption.
    »Ah!« he muttered, »if it came to that – if Miss Lucy meddled with his bonnet-grec – she might just put it on herself, turn garçon for the occasion, and benevolently go to the Athénée in his stead.«
    With great respect, I laid the bonnet on the desk, where its tassel seemed to give me an awful nod.
    »I'll write a note of apology – that will do?« said he, still bent on evasion.
    Knowing well it would
not
do, I gently pushed the bonnet towards his hand. Thus impelled, it slid down the polished slope of the varnished and unbaized desk, carried before it the light steel-framed ›lunettes,‹ and, fearful to relate, they fell to the estrade. A score of times ere now had I seen them fall and receive no damage –
this
time, as Lucy Snowe's hapless luck would have it, they so fell that each clear pebble became a shivered and shapeless star.
    Now, indeed, dismay seized me – dismay and regret. I knew the value of those ›lunettes‹: M. Paul's sight was peculiar, not easily fitted, and these glasses suited him. I had heard him call them his treasures: as I picked them up, cracked and worthless, my hand trembled. Frightened through all my nerves I was to see the mischief I had done, but I think I was even more sorry than afraid. For some seconds I dared not look the bereaved Professor in the face; he was the first to speak.
    »Là!« said he: »me voilà veuf de mes