ut of my desk, I filled
my apron and poured them in a heap upon his estrade, at his feet.

"Take them away, M. Paul," I said, "and teach me no more. I never asked
to be made learned, and you compel me to feel very profoundly that
learning is not happiness."

And returning to my desk, I laid my head on my arms, nor would I speak
to him for two days afterwards. He pained and chagrined me. His
affection had been very sweet and dear--a pleasure new and
incomparable: now that this seemed withdrawn, I cared not for his
lessons.

The books, however, were not taken away; they were all restored with
careful hand to their places, and he came as usual to teach me. He made
his peace somehow--too readily, perhaps: I ought to have stood out
longer, but when he looked kind 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 "carrement" 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 emu!"

When she was gone, my professor demanded of me why I suffered "cette
fille effrontee, cette creature 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 verite," 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,