Villette

for deeper mystery, an old russet curtain was drawn, by way of screen to a sombre band of winter cloaks, pendant each from its pin – like a malefactor from his gibbet. From amongst these cloaks, and behind that curtain, the Nun was said to issue. I did not believe this, nor was I troubled by apprehension thereof; but I saw a very dark and large rat, with a long tail, come gliding out from that squalid alcove; and, moreover, my eye fell on many a black beetle, dotting the floor. These objects discomposed me more, perhaps, than it would be wise to say, as also did the dust, lumber, and stifling heat of the place. The last inconvenience would soon have become intolerable, had I not found means to open and prop up the sky-light, thus admitting some freshness. Underneath this aperture I pushed a large empty chest, and having mounted upon it a smaller box, and wiped from both the dust, I gathered my dress (my best, the reader must remember, and therefore a legitimate object of care) fastidiously round me, ascended this species of extempore throne, and being seated, commenced the acquisition of my task; while I learned, not forgetting to keep a sharp look-out on the black beetles and cockroaches, of which, more even, I believe, than of the rats, I sat in mortal dread.
    My impression at first was that I had undertaken what it really was impossible to perform, and I simply resolved to do my best and be resigned to fail. I soon found, however, that one part in so short a piece was not more than memory could master at a few hours' notice. I learned and learned on, first in a whisper, and then aloud. Perfectly secure from human audience, I acted my part before the garret-vermin. Entering into its emptiness, frivolity, and falsehood, with a spirit inspired by scorn and impatience, I took my revenge on this ›fat,‹ by making him as fatuitous as I possibly could.
    In this exercise the afternoon passed: day began to glide into evening; and I, who had eaten nothing since breakfast, grew excessively hungry. Now I thought of the collation, which doubtless they were just then devouring in the garden far below. (I had seen in the vestibule a basketful of small
pâtés à la crême,
than which nothing in the whole range of cookery seemed to me better). A
pâté,
or a square of cake, it seemed to me would come very
apropos;
and as my relish for these dainties increased, it began to appear somewhat hard that I should pass my holiday, fasting and in prison. Remote as was the attic from the street-door and vestibule, yet the ever-tinkling bell was faintly audible here; and also the ceaseless roll of wheels on the tormented pavement. I knew that the house and garden were thronged, and that all was gay and glad below; here it began to grow dusk: the beetles were fading from my sight; I trembled lest they should steal on me a march, mount my throne unseen, and, unsuspected, invade my skirts. Impatient and apprehensive, I recommenced the rehearsal of my part merely to kill time. Just as I was concluding, the long-delayed rattle of the key in the lock came to my ear – no unwelcome sound. M. Paul (I could just see through the dusk that it
was
M. Paul, for light enough still lingered to show the velvet blackness of his close shorn head, and the sallow ivory of his brow) looked in.
    »Brava!« cried he, holding the door open, and remaining at the threshold. »J'ai tout entendu. C'est assez bien. Encore!«
    A moment I hesitated.
    »Encore!« said he sternly. »Et point de grimaces! A bas la timidité!«
    Again I went through the part, but not half so well as I had spoken it alone.
    »Enfin, elle le sait,« said he, half dissatisfied, »and one cannot be fastidious or exacting under the circumstances.« Then he added, »You may yet have twenty minutes for preparation: au revoir!« And he was going.
    »Monsieur,« I called out, taking courage.
    »Eh bien. Qu'est ce que c'est, mademoiselle?«
    »J'ai bien faim.«
    »Comment, vous avez faim! Et la collation?«
    »I know nothing about it. I have not seen it, shut up here.«
    »Ah! C'est vrai,« cried he.
    In a moment my throne was abdicated, the attic evacuated; an inverse repetition of the impetus which had brought me up into the attic, instantly took me down – down – down to the very kitchen. I thought I should have gone to the cellar. The cook was imperatively ordered to produce food, and I, as imperatively, was commanded to eat. To my great joy this food was limited to coffee and cake: I had