a marked silence
on the point--I determined, COUTE QUI COUTE, to break the ice of this
silly reserve. I selected Sylvie as my informant, because from her I
knew that I should at least get a sensible answer, unaccompanied by
wriggle, titter, or other flourish of folly.

"Ou donc est Mdlle. Henri?" I said one day as I returned an
exercise-book I had been examining.

"Elle est partie, monsieur."

"Partie? et pour combien de temps? Quand reviendra-t-elle?"

"Elle est partie pour toujours, monsieur; elle ne reviendra plus."

"Ah!" was my involuntary exclamation; then after a pause:--

"En etes-vous bien sure, Sylvie?"

"Oui, oui, monsieur, mademoiselle la directrice nous l'a dit elle-meme
il y a deux ou trois jours."

And I could pursue my inquiries no further; time, place, and
circumstances forbade my adding another word. I could neither comment on
what had been said, nor demand further particulars. A question as to the
reason of the teacher's departure, as to whether it had been voluntary
or otherwise, was indeed on my lips, but I suppressed it--there were
listeners all round. An hour after, in passing Sylvie in the corridor as
she was putting on her bonnet, I stopped short and asked:--

"Sylvie, do you know Mdlle. Henri's address? I have some books of hers,"
I added carelessly, "and I should wish to send them to her."

"No, monsieur," replied Sylvie; "but perhaps Rosalie, the portress, will
be able to give it you."

Rosalie's cabinet was just at hand; I stepped in and repeated the
inquiry. Rosalie--a smart French grisette--looked up from her work with
a knowing smile, precisely the sort of smile I had been so desirous to
avoid exciting. Her answer was prepared; she knew nothing whatever
of Mdlle. Henri's address--had never known it. Turning from her with
impatience--for I believed she lied and was hired to lie--I almost
knocked down some one who had been standing at my back; it was the
directress. My abrupt movement made her recoil two or three steps. I was
obliged to apologize, which I did more concisely than politely. No man
likes to be dogged, and in the very irritable mood in which I then
was the sight of Mdlle. Reuter thoroughly incensed me. At the moment I
turned her countenance looked hard, dark, and inquisitive; her eyes
were bent upon me with an expression of almost hungry curiosity. I had
scarcely caught this phase of physiognomy ere it had vanished; a
bland smile played on her features; my harsh ap