donic
comment on which gleamed in his eye. Now it was his habit to indulge in
strictures on the dress, both of the teachers and pupils, at Madame
Beck's--a habit which the former, at least, held to be an offensive
impertinence: as yet I had not suffered from it--my sombre daily attire
not being calculated to attract notice. I was in no mood to permit any
new encroachment to-night: rather than accept his banter, I would
ignore his presence, and accordingly steadily turned my face to the
sleeve of Dr. John's coat; finding in that same black sleeve a prospect
more redolent of pleasure and comfort, more genial, more friendly, I
thought, than was offered by the dark little Professor's unlovely
visage. Dr. John seemed unconsciously to sanction the preference by
looking down and saying in his kind voice, "Ay, keep close to my side,
Lucy: these crowding burghers are no respecters of persons."

I could not, however, be true to myself. Yielding to some influence,
mesmeric or otherwise--an influence unwelcome, displeasing, but
effective--I again glanced round to see if M. Paul was gone. No, there
he stood on the same spot, looking still, but with a changed eye; he
had penetrated my thought, and read my wish to shun him. The mocking
but not ill-humoured gaze was turned to a swarthy frown, and when I
bowed, with a view to conciliation, I got only the stiffest and
sternest of nods in return.

"Whom have you made angry, Lucy?" whispered Dr. Bretton, smiling. "Who
is that savage-looking friend of yours?"

"One of the professors at Madame Beck's: a very cross little man."

"He looks mighty cross just now: what have you done to him? What is it
all about? Ah, Lucy, Lucy! tell me the meaning of this."

"No mystery, I assure you. M. Emanuel is very exigeant, and because I
looked at your coat-sleeve, instead of curtseying and dipping to him,
he thinks I have failed in respect."

"The little--" began Dr. John: I know not what more he would have
added, for at that moment I was nearly thrown down amongst the feet of
the crowd. M. Paul had rudely pushed past, and was elbowing his way
with such utter disregard to the convenience and security of all
around, that a very uncomfortable pressure was the consequence.

"I think he is what he himself would call 'mechant,'" said Dr. Bretton.
I thought so, too.

Slowly and with difficulty we made our way along the passage, and at
last regained our seats. The drawing of the lottery lasted nearly an