Villette

am as I say – modest.«
    I quite believed him now; and, in believing, I honoured him with a sincerity of esteem which made my heart ache.
    »As to the St Pierre,« he went on, recovering himself, for his voice had altered a little, »she once intended to be Madame Emanuel; and I do n't know whither I might have been led, but for yonder little lattice with the light. Ah, magic lattice! what miracles of discovery hast thou wrought! Yes,« he pursued, »I have seen her rancours, her vanities, her levities – not only here, but elsewhere: I have witnessed what bucklers me against all her arts: I am safe from poor Zélie.«
    »And my pupils,« he presently recommenced, »those blondes jeunes filles – so mild and meek – I have seen the most reserved – romp like boys, the demurest – snatch grapes from the walls, shake pears from the trees. When the English teacher came, I saw her, marked her early preference for this alley, noted her taste for seclusion, watched her well, long before she and I came to speaking terms; do you recollect my once coming silently and offering you a little knot of white violets when we were strangers?«
    »I recollect it. I dried the violets, kept them, and have them still.«
    »It pleased me when you took them peacefully and promptly, without prudery – that sentiment which I ever dread to excite, and which, when it is revealed in eye or gesture, I vindictively detest. To return. Not only did
I
watch you, but often – especially at eventide – another guardian angel was noiselessly hovering near: night after night my cousin Beck has stolen down yonder steps, and glidingly pursued your movements when you did not see her.«
    »But, Monsieur, you could not from the distance of that window see what passed in this garden at night?«
    »By moonlight I possibly might with a glass – I use a glass – but the garden itself is open to me. In the shed, at the bottom, there is a door leading into a court, which communicates with the college; of that door I possess the key, and thus come and go at pleasure. This afternoon I came through it, and found you asleep in class; again this evening, I have availed myself of the same entrance.«
    I could not help saying, »If you were a wicked, designing man, how terrible would all this be!«
    His attention seemed incapable of being arrested by this view of the subject: he lit his cigar, and while he puffed it, leaning against a tree, and looking at me in a cool, amused way he had when his humour was tranquil, I thought proper to go on sermonizing him: he often lectured me by the hour together – I did not see why I should not speak my mind for once. So I told him my impressions concerning his Jesuit-system.
    »The knowledge it brings you is bought too dear, monsieur; this coming and going by stealth degrades your own dignity.«
    »My dignity!« he cried, laughing; »when did you ever see me trouble my head about my dignity? It is you, Miss Lucy, who are ›digne.‹ How often, in your high insular presence, have I taken a pleasure in trampling upon, what you are pleased to call, my dignity; tearing it, scattering it to the winds, in those mad transports you witness with such hauteur, and which I know you think very like the ravings of a third-rate London actor.«
    »Monsieur, I tell you every glance you cast from that lattice is a wrong done to the best part of your own nature. To study the human heart thus, is to banquet secretly and sacrilegiously on Eve's apples. I wish you were a Protestant.«
    Indifferent to the wish, he smoked on. After a space of smiling yet thoughtful silence, he said, rather suddenly –
    »I have seen other things.«
    »What other things?«
    Taking the weed from his lips, he threw the remnant amongst the shrubs, where, for a moment, it lay glowing in the gloom.
    »Look at it,« said he: »is not that spark like an eye watching you and me.«
    He took a turn down the walk; presently returning, he went on:
    »I have seen, Miss Lucy, things to me unaccountable, that have made me watch all night for a solution, and I have not yet found it.«
    The tone was peculiar; my veins thrilled; he saw me shiver.
    »Are you afraid? Whether is it of my words or that red jealous eye just winking itself out?«
    »I am cold; the night grows dark and late, and the air is changed; it is time to go in.«
    »It is little past eight, but you shall go in soon. Answer me only this question.«
    Yet he paused ere he put it. The garden was truly growing