 and good, and held out his hand with amity, memory refused to
reproduce with due force his oppressive moments. And then, reconcilement is
always sweet!
    On a certain morning a message came from my godmother, inviting me to attend
some notable lecture to be delivered in the same public rooms before described.
Dr. John had brought the message himself, and delivered it verbally to Rosine,
who had not scrupled to follow the steps of M. Emanuel, then passing to the
first classe, and, in his presence, stand carrément before my desk, hand in
apron-pocket, and rehearse the same, saucily and aloud, concluding with the
words -
    »Qu'il est vraiment beau, mademoiselle, ce jeune docteur! Quels yeux - quel
regard! Tenez! J'en ai le coeur tout ému!«
    When she was gone, my professor demanded of me why I suffered »cette fille
effrontée, cette créature sans pudeur,« to address me in such terms.
    I had no pacifying answer to give. The terms were precisely such as Rosine -
a young lady in whose skull the organs of reverence and reserve were not largely
developed - was in the constant habit of using. Besides, what she said about the
young doctor was true enough. Graham was handsome; he had fine eyes and a
thrilling glance. An observation to that effect actually formed itself into
sound on my lips.
    »Elle ne dit que la vérité,« I said.
    »Ah! vous trouvez?«
    »Mais, sans doute.«
    The lesson to which we had that day to submit was such as to make us very
glad when it terminated. At its close, the released pupils rushed out,
half-trembling, half-exultant. I, too, was going. A mandate to remain arrested
me. I muttered that I wanted some fresh air sadly - the stove was in a glow, the
classe overheated. An inexorable voice merely recommended silence; and this
salamander - for whom no room ever seemed too hot - sitting down between my desk
and the stove - a situation in which he ought to have felt broiled, but did not
- proceeded to confront me with - a Greek quotation!
    In M. Emanuel's soul rankled a chronic suspicion that I knew both Greek and
Latin. As monkies are said to have the power of speech if they would but use it,
and are reported to conceal this faculty in fear of its being turned to their
detriment, so to me was ascribed a fund of knowledge which I was supposed
criminally and craftily to conceal. The privileges
