"'Mademoiselle,' I said to her, wildly, taking her hand as I spoke, 'I love you! I love you!'
"For a moment she pressed my hand; her lips opened.What was it that she was going to say to me? But suddenly, lifting her eyes towards her father ascending the stairs, she drew her hand away, and made me a gesture of farewell.
"I never saw her again.Her father went to live in the neighbourhood of the Pantheon, in an apartment which he had rented for the sale of his historical atlas.He died in a few months afterward of an apoplectic stroke.His daughter, I was told, retired to Caen to live with some aged relative.It was there that, later on, she married a bank-clerk, the same Noel Alexandre who became so rich and died so poor.
"As for me, Madame, I have lived alone, at peace with myself; my existence, equally exempt from great pains and great joys, has been tolerably happy.But for many years I could never see an empty chair beside my own of a winter's evening without feeling a sudden painful sinking at my heart.Last year I learned from you, who had known her, the story of her old age and death.I saw her daughter at your house.I have seen her; but I cannot yet say like the aged mad of Scripture, 'And now, O Lord, let thy servant depart in peace!' For if an old fellow like me can be of any use to anybody, I would wish, with your help, to devote my last energies and abilities to the care of this orphan."I had uttered these last words in Madame de Gabry's own vestibule;and I was about to take leave of my kind guide when she said to me, "My dear Monsieur, I cannot help you in this matter as much as Iwould like to do.Jeanne is an orphan and a minor.You cannot do anything for her without the authorisation of her guardian.""Ah!" I exclaimed, "I had not the least idea in the wold that Jeanne had a guardian!"Madame de Gabry looked at me with visible surprise.She had not expected to find the old man quite so simple.
She resumed:
"The guardian of Jeanne Alexandre is Maitre Mouche, notary at Levallois-Perret.I am afraid you will not be able to come to any understanding with him; for he is a very serious person.""Why! good God!" I cried, "with what kind of people can you expect me to have any sort of understanding at my age, except serious persons."She smiled with a sweet mischievousness--just as my father used to smile--and answered:
"With those who are like you--the innocent folks who wear their hearts on their sleeves.Monsieur Mouche is not exactly that kind.
He is cunning and light-fingered.But although I have very little liking for him, we will go together and see him, if you wish, and ask his permission to visit Jeanne, whom he has sent to a boarding-school at Les Ternes, where she is very unhappy."We agreed at once upon a day; I kissed Madame de Gabry's hands, and we bade each other good-bye.
From May 2 to May 5.
I have seen him in his office, Maitre Mouche, the guardian of Jeanne.
Small, thin, and dry; his complexion looks as if it was made out of the dust of his pigeon-holes.He is a spectacled animal; for to imagine him without his spectacles would be impossible.I have heard him speak, this Maitre Mouche; he has a voice like a tin rattle, and he uses choice phrases; but I should have been better pleased if he had not chosen his phrases so carefully.I have observed him, this Maitre Mouche; he is very ceremonious, and watches his visitors slyly out of the corner of his eye.
Maitre Mouche is quite pleased, he informs us; he is delighted to find we have taken such an interest in his ward.But he does not think we are placed in this world just to amuse ourselves.No: he does not believe it; and I am free to acknowledge that anybody in his company is likely to reach the same conclusion, so little is he capable of inspiring joyfulness.He fears that it would be giving his dear ward a false and pernicious idea of life to allow her too much enjoyment.It is for this reason that he requests Madame de Gabry not to invite the young girl to her house except at very long intervals.
We left the dusty notary and his dusty study with a permit in due form (everything which issues from the office of Maitre Mouche is in due form) to visit Mademoiselle Jeanne Alexandre on the first Thursday of each month at Mademoiselle Prefere's private school, Rue Demours, Aux Ternes.
The first Thursday in May I set out to pay a visit to Mademoiselle Prefere, whose establishment I discerned from afar off by a big sign, painted with blue letters.That blue tint was the first indication I received of Mademoiselle Prefere's character, which I was able to see more of later on.A scared-looking servant took my card, and abandoned me without one word of hope at the door of a chilly parlour full of that stale odour peculiar to the dining-rooms of educational establishments.The floor of this parlour had been waxed with such pitiless energy, that I remained for awhile in distress upon the threshold.But happily observing that little strips of woollen carpet had been scattered over the floor in front of each horse-hair chair, I succeeded, by cautiously stepping from one carpet-island to another in reaching the angle of the mantlepiece, where I sat down quite out of breath.
