er such circumstances was considered by the
teachers and pupils of the school, individually and collectively, to be
as much as a woman's or girl's life was worth.

Madame Beck herself, if forced to the enterprise, would "skurry"
through, retrenching her skirts, and carefully coasting the formidable
estrade, like a ship dreading breakers. As to Rosine, the portress--on
whom, every half-hour, devolved the fearful duty of fetching pupils out
of the very heart of one or other of the divisions to take their
music-lessons in the oratory, the great or little saloon, the
salle-a-manger, or some other piano-station--she would, upon her second
or third attempt, frequently become almost tongue-tied from excess of
consternation--a sentiment inspired by the unspeakable looks levelled
at her through a pair of dart-dealing spectacles.

One morning I was sitting in the carre, at work upon a piece of
embroidery which one of the pupils had commenced but delayed to finish,
and while my fingers wrought at the frame, my ears regaled themselves
with listening to the crescendos and cadences of a voice haranguing in
the neighbouring classe, in tones that waxed momentarily more unquiet,
more ominously varied. There was a good strong partition-wall between
me and the gathering storm, as well as a facile means of flight through
the glass-door to the court, in case it swept this way; so I am afraid
I derived more amusement than alarm from these thickening symptoms.
Poor Rosine was not safe: four times that blessed morning had she made
the passage of peril; and now, for the fifth time, it became her
dangerous duty to snatch, as it were, a brand from the burning--a pupil
from under M. Paul's nose.

"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" cried she. "Que vais-je devenir? Monsieur va me
tuer, je suis sure; car il est d'une colere!"

Nerved by the courage of desperation, she opened the door.

"Mademoiselle La Malle au piano!" was her cry.

Ere she could make good her retreat, or quite close the door, this
voice uttered itself:--

"Des ce moment!--la classe est defendue. La premiere qui ouvrira cette
porte, ou passera par cette division, sera pendue--fut-ce Madame Beck
elle-meme!"

Ten minutes had not succeeded the promulgation of this decree when
Rosine's French pantoufles were again heard shuffling along the
corridor.

"Mademoiselle," said she, "I would not for a five-franc piece go into
that classe again just now: Monsieur's lunettes are really terrible;
a