xplain all this some day.
Good-night."

CHAPTER XV

Mr. Rochester did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one
afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adele in the grounds: and while
she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and
down a long beech avenue within sight of her.

He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Celine
Varens, towards whom he had once cherished what he called a "_grande
passion_." This passion Celine had professed to return with even
superior ardour. He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he
believed, as he said, that she preferred his "_taille d'athlete_" to the
elegance of the Apollo Belvidere.

"And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic
sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a
complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds,
dentelles, &c. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the
received style, like any other spoony. I had not, it seems, the
originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode
the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the
beaten centre. I had--as I deserved to have--the fate of all other
spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I
found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling
through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air
consecrated so lately by her presence. No,--I exaggerate; I never
thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a sort
of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an
odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of
conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to
open the window and step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and
gaslight besides, and very still and serene. The balcony was furnished
with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,--I will take one
now, if you will excuse me."

Here ensued a pause, filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar;
having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense on
the freezing and sunless air, he went on--

"I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was
_croquant_--(overlook the barbarism)--_croquant_ chocolate comfits, and
smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled alon