LADY JANE’S DANCING-MASTER
Among all Lady Jane’s friends there was no one who congratulated her
on her good fortune with half the enthusiasm and warmth displayed by
little Gex.
“Vell, vell, my dear leetle lady,” he said, rubbing his small hands
delightedly. “Vhy, you are in luck, and no mistake! To have such a
teacher for the music as Mam’selle Diane d’Hautreve is as good as
a fortune to you. She’ll give you the true style,—the style of the
French nobility, the only style vhat is good. I know just vhat that is.
Peoples think old Gex knows nothing; but they’re mistaken, leetle lady;
they’re mistaken. They don’t know vhat I vas once. There isn’t nothing
in music that Gex hasn’t heard. I’ve seen everything fine, and I’ve
heard everything fine, vhen I used to be alvays at the French opera.”
“Oh, were you in the French opera?” interrupted Lady Jane, with
sparkling eyes; “that’s where Pepsie says I shall sing, and I’m going
to have flowers and—and a throne, and—oh, I don’t remember; but
everything, _everything_!” she added impressively, summing it all up in
one blissful whole.
“Vell, I shouldn’t vonder, I shouldn’t vonder,” said Gex, looking at
her proudly, with his head on one side, much like an antiquated crow,
“for you’ve got one voice already vhat vould make soft the heart of one
stone.”
“Oh, Mr. Gex, where did _you_ hear me sing?” and Lady Jane looked at
him with grave surprise. “I never sang for any one but Pepsie, and
Mam’selle Diane, and you weren’t there.”
“But I’ve heard you sing; I’ve heard you, my leetle lady,” insisted
the old man, with twinkling eyes. “It vas one morning vhen you vas
a-singing vith Mam’selle Diane, outside on the _banquette_. I stepped
out, and there I heard you sing like one leetle bird; but you didn’t
know I vas a-listening.”
“No, I didn’t know it,” said Lady Jane, smiling brightly again. “I’m
glad you heard me, and some day I’ll sing, ‘Sleep, baby, sleep,’ for
you if you’d like to hear it.”
Mr. Gex assured her that he would, and added that he adored the music.
“I haven’t heard the fine music for many years,” he remarked, with a
little sigh, “and I used to be just crazed for it; but I vas different
then, leetle lady, I vas different; you vouldn’t think it, but I vas
different.”
“You didn’t wear a handkerchief over your ears then, did you, Mr. Gex?”
“No, no, my leetle lady; it vas the ear-ache vat made me tie up my ear.”
“Did you wear an apron, and did you sew?” continued Lady Jane, very
curious to know in what ways he was different.
“Vear an apron!” exclaimed Gex, holding up his hands. “Vhy, bless your
leetle heart, I dressed like one gentleman. I vore the black clothes,
fine and glossy. I vas one neat leetle man. My hair vas black and curly
and, you von’t believe it, I’m afraid you von’t believe it, but I vore
the silk hose, and leetle fine shoes tied vith one ribbon, and one
gold chain across my vaistcoat, and one ring on that finger,” and Gex
touched one of his hard and shrunken digits my way of emphasis.
“Did you, Mr. Gex,—oh, did you?” and Lady Jane’s eyes glistened, and
her little face was one smile of delight. “Oh, how nice you must have
looked! But you didn’t have a fruit-stall then?”
“No, indeed; no, indeed; I vas in one fine business. I vas fashionable
then; I vas one fine leetle gentleman.”
“Mr. Gex, what did you do?” cried Lady Jane, in a little, shrill,
impetuous voice, for her curiosity had reached the climax. “I want to
know what you did, when you curled your hair and wore a gold chain.”
“I vas one professeur, leetle lady. I vas one professeur.”
“One professeur! Oh, what is one professeur?” cried Lady Jane
impatiently.
“He is one gentleman vhat does teach.”
“Then you taught music. Oh, I’ve guessed it,—you taught music,” and
Lady Jane looked at him admiringly. “Now I know why you like it so
much!”
“No, no, leetle lady. It vas not the music. It vas the sister to the
music; it vas the dance. I vas professeur of the dance. Think of that,
of the dance. So nimble, so quick; see, like this,” and little Gex,
carried away by the memory of his former triumphs, took hold of the
sides of his apron and made two or three quaint, fantastic steps,
ending them with a little pirouette and a low bow which enchanted Lady
Jane.
“Oh, how funny, how funny! Please do it again—won’t you, Mr. Gex? Oh,
do, _do_!”
Gex smiled indulgently, but shook his head. “No, no, leetle lady. Once
is enough, just to show you how nimble and quick one professeur of the
dance can be; but then I vas young and supple, and full of life. I vas
running over vith life; I vas one fine leetle gentleman, so springy and
light, and I vas all the fashion. Vould you believe it, leetle lady? I
had one fine grand house on Rue Royale, and all the rich peoples, and
all the noblesse, and all the leetle gentlemen and the small leetle
ladies like you came to the ‘Professeur Gex’ to learn the dance.”
“But why, why, Mr. Gex, did you leave the Rue Royale?” asked Lady
Jane, greatly puzzled at his changed condition, and anxious to know by
what strange freak of destiny he had been brought to sell fruit and
vegetables in Good Children Street, to wear an apron, and to mend his
own stockings.
“Ah, vell, my leetle lady, it vas many things vhat brought me to here,”
he replied, with a sigh of resignation. “You see, I did not stay the
fashion. I got old, and the rheumatism made me slow and stiff, and I
vas no more such a fine, light leetle gentleman. I could not jump and
turn so nimble and quick, and a new professeur came from Paris, and to
him vent all my pupils. I had no money, because I vas vairy fond of
good living and I lived high like one gentleman; and so ven I vas old I
vas poor, and there vas nothing but to sell the fruit and vegetables in
Good Children Street.”
“Oh, dear, dear, what a pity!” sighed Lady Jane regretfully. To think
that the mighty had fallen so low touched her loyal little heart, and
brought the tears of sympathy to her blue eyes.
“Naiver mind, naiver mind. You see I vas old, and I could not teach the
dance alvay; but _attendez_, my leetle lady, listen to vhat I say,” and
he clasped his hands persuasively, and turned his head on one side, his
little twinkling eyes full of entreaty. “Vould you now, vould you like
to learn the dance? I’m old, and I’m no more so nimble and light, but I
know the steps, all the fine steps, and my leetle lady must learn the
dance some time. Von’t you let me teach you how to take the fine leetle
steps?”
“Oh, Mr. Gex, _will_ you?” cried Lady Jane, jumping down from her
chair, with a flushed, eager face, and standing in front of the little
dancing-master. “Do, do!—I’m all ready. Teach them to me now!”
“Vell, that is all right, stand as you are, and I vill begin just now,”
said Gex, beaming with pleasure, while he hurriedly rolled his aprons
up under his armpits, and pushed his spectacles well on the top of his
bald head. “Now, now, leetle lady, turn out your toes, take hold of
your skirt, just so. Right foot, left foot, just so. Vatch me. Right
foot, left foot. One, two, three. Right foot, one, two; left foot,
one, two, three; half around, one, two, three; just so, vatch me. Back
again, half around, one, two, one two—oh, good, good, vairy good! My
leetle lady, you vill learn the dance so vell!”
It was a delicious picture that they made in the dingy little shop,
surrounded by fruit and vegetables. Lady Jane, with her yellow flying
hair, her radiant rosy face, her gracious head coquettishly set on one
side, her sparkling blue eyes fixed on Gex, her dainty little fingers
holding out her short skirt, her slender, graceful legs and tiny feet
advancing and retreating in shy mincing steps, turning and whirling
with a graceful swaying motion first on one side, then the other,
right in front of Gex, who, with a face of preternatural gravity, held
out his loose trousers’ legs, and turned his small brogans to the
correct angle, while he went through all the intricate steps of a first
dancing-lesson in the quaint, old-fashioned style of fifty years ago,
every movement being closely followed by the child with a grace and
spirit really charming.
When the lesson was over, and Lady Jane ran to tell her friend of this
latest stroke of good fortune, Pepsie showed all her white teeth in a
broad smile of satisfaction.
“Well, Lady,” she said, “you _are_ a lucky child. You’ve not only found
a music-teacher, but you’ve found a dancing-master.”