ebelled against and
persecuted Miss Turner"--a poor friendless English teacher, whom Madame
had employed, and lightly discarded; and to whose piteous history I was
no stranger.

"C'est vrai," said she, coolly. "Miss Turner had no more command over
them than a servant from the kitchen would have had. She was weak and
wavering; she had neither tact nor intelligence, decision nor dignity.
Miss Turner would not do for these girls at all."

I made no reply, but advanced to the closed schoolroom door.

"You will not expect aid from me, or from any one," said Madame. "That
would at once set you down as incompetent for your office."

I opened the door, let her pass with courtesy, and followed her. There
were three schoolrooms, all large. That dedicated to the second
division, where I was to figure, was considerably the largest, and
accommodated an assemblage more numerous, more turbulent, and
infinitely more unmanageable than the other two. In after days, when I
knew the ground better, I used to think sometimes (if such a comparison
may be permitted), that the quiet, polished, tame first division was to
the robust, riotous, demonstrative second division, what the English
House of Lords is to the House of Commons.

The first glance informed me that many of the pupils were more than
girls--quite young women; I knew that some of them were of noble family
(as nobility goes in Labassecour), and I was well convinced that not
one amongst them was ignorant of my position in Madame's household. As
I mounted the estrade (a low platform, raised a step above the
flooring), where stood the teacher's chair and desk, I beheld opposite
to me a row of eyes and brows that threatened stormy weather--eyes full
of an insolent light, and brows hard and unblushing as marble. The
continental "female" is quite a different being to the insular "female"
of the same age and class: I never saw such eyes and brows in England.
Madame Beck introduced me in one cool phrase, sailed from the room, and
left me alone in my glory.

I shall never forget that first lesson, nor all the under-current of
life and character it opened up to me. Then first did I begin rightly
to see the wide difference that lies between the novelist's and poet's
ideal "jeune fille" and the said "jeune fille" as she really is.

It seems that three titled belles in the first row had sat down
predetermined that a _bonne d'enfants_ should not give them lessons in
English. They knew the