Villette

are identical. It is only, Dr. John, within that brief space of time I have learned that Ginevra Fanshawe is the person, under this roof, in whom you have long been interested – that she is the magnet which attracts you to the Rue Fossette, that for her sake you venture into this garden, and seek out caskets dropped by rivals.«
    »You know all?«
    »I know so much.«
    »For more than a year I have been accustomed to meet her in society. Mrs. Cholmondeley, her friend, is an acquaintance of mine; thus I see her every Sunday. But you observed that under the name of ›Isidore‹ she often spoke of me: may I – without inviting you to a breach of confidence – inquire what was the tone, what the feeling of her remarks? I feel somewhat anxious to know, being a little tormented with uncertainty as to how I stand with her.«
    »Oh, she varies: she shifts and changes like the wind.«
    »Still, you can gather some general idea –?«
    »I can,« thought I, »but it would not do to communicate that general idea to you. Besides, if I said she did not love you, I know you would not believe me.«
    »You are silent,« he pursued. »I suppose you have no good news to impart. No matter. If she feels for me positive coldness and aversion, it is a sign I do not deserve her.«
    »Do you doubt yourself? Do you consider yourself the inferior of Colonel de Hamal?«
    »I love Miss Fanshawe far more than de Hamal loves any human being, and would care for and guard her better than he. Respecting de Hamal, I fear she is under an illusion; the man's character is known to me, all his antecedents, all his scrapes. He is not worthy of your beautiful young friend.«
    »My ›beautiful young friend‹ ought to know that, and to know or feel who is worthy of her,« said I. »If her beauty or her brains will not serve her so far, she merits the sharp lesson of experience.«
    »Are you not a little severe?«
    »I am excessively severe – more severe than I choose to show you. You should hear the strictures with which I favour my ›beautiful young friend,‹ only that you would be unutterably shocked at my want of tender considerateness for her delicate nature.«
    »She is so lovely, one cannot but be loving towards her. You – every woman older than herself, must feel for such a simple, innocent, girlish fairy, a sort of motherly or elder-sisterly fondness. Graceful angel! Does not your heart yearn towards her when she pours into your ear her pure, child-like confidences? How you are privileged!« And he sighed.
    »I cut short these confidences somewhat abruptly now and then,« said I. »But excuse me, Dr. John, may I change the theme for one instant? What a god-like person is that de Hamal! What a nose on his face – perfect! Model one in putty or clay, you could not make a better, or straighter, or neater; and then, such classic lips and chin – and his bearing – sublime.«
    »De Hamal is an unutterable puppy, besides being a very white-livered hero.«
    »You, Dr. John, and every man of a less refined mould than he, must feel for him a sort of admiring affection, such as Mars and the coarser deities may be supposed to have borne the young, graceful Apollo.«
    »An unprincipled, gambling, little jackanapes!« said Dr. John curtly, »whom, with one hand, I could lift up by the waistband any day, and lay low in the kennel, if I liked.«
    »The sweet seraph!« said I. »What a cruel idea? Are you not a little severe, Dr. John?«
    And now I paused. For the second time that night I was going beyond myself – venturing out of what I looked on as my natural habits – speaking in an unpremeditated, impulsive strain, which startled me strangely when I halted to reflect. On rising that morning, had I anticipated that before night I should have acted the part of a gay lover in a vaudeville; and an hour after, frankly discussed with Dr. John the question of his hapless suit, and rallied him on his illusions? I had no more presaged such feats than I had looked forward to an ascent in a balloon, or a voyage to Cape Horn.
    The Doctor and I, having paced down the walk, were now returning; the reflex from the window again lit his face: he smiled, but his eye was melancholy. How I wished that he could feel heart's-ease! How I grieved that he brooded over pain, and pain from such a cause! He, with his great advantages,
he
to love in vain! I did not then know that the pensiveness of reverse is the best phase for some minds; nor did I reflect that some