arrow back-stairs that descended from my room, I met
M. Pelet.

"Comme vous avez l'air rayonnant!" said he. "Je ne vous ai jamais vu
aussi gai. Que s'est-il donc passe?"

"Apparemment que j'aime les changements," replied I.

"Ah! je comprends--c'est cela-soyez sage seulement. Vous etes bien
jeune--trop jeune pour le role que vous allez jouer; il faut prendre
garde--savez-vous?"

"Mais quel danger y a-t-il?"

"Je n'en sais rien--ne vous laissez pas aller a de vives
impressions--voila tout."

I laughed: a sentiment of exquisite pleasure played over my nerves at
the thought that "vives impressions" were likely to be created; it was
the deadness, the sameness of life's daily ongoings that had hitherto
been my bane; my blouse-clad "eleves" in the boys' seminary never
stirred in me any "vives impressions" except it might be occasionally
some of anger. I broke from M. Pelet, and as I strode down the passage
he followed me with one of his laughs--a very French, rakish, mocking
sound.

Again I stood at the neighbouring door, and soon was re-admitted into
the cheerful passage with its clear dove-colour imitation marble walls.
I followed the portress, and descending a step, and making a turn, I
found myself in a sort of corridor; a side-door opened, Mdlle. Reuter's
little figure, as graceful as it was plump, appeared. I could now see
her dress in full daylight; a neat, simple mousseline-laine gown fitted
her compact round shape to perfection--delicate little collar and
manchettes of lace, trim Parisian brodequins showed her neck, wrists,
and feet, to complete advantage; but how grave was her face as she
came suddenly upon me! Solicitude and business were in her eye--on her
forehead; she looked almost stern. Her "Bon jour, monsieur," was quite
polite, but so orderly, so commonplace, it spread directly a cool, damp
towel over my "vives impressions." The servant turned back when her
mistress appeared, and I walked slowly along the corridor, side by side
with Mdlle. Reuter.

"Monsieur will give a lesson in the first class to-day," said she;
"dictation or reading will perhaps be the best thing to begin with, for
those are the easiest forms of communicating instruction in a foreign
language; and, at the first, a master naturally feels a little
unsettled."

She was quite right, as I had found from experience; it only remained
for me to acquiesce. We proceeded now in silence. The corridor
terminated in a hall, large, lofty, a