The end brought us out into a mean, poor street, narrow even where the
best streets were narrow. A small house, the exterior of which I
discovered afterward to be neglected and almost dilapidated, stood
before us; and madame unlocked the door with a key from her pocket. We
were conducted into a small kitchen, where a fire had been burning
lately, though it was now out, and only a little warmth lingered about
the stove. Minima was set upon a chair opposite to it, with her feet in
the oven, and I was invited to do the same. I assented mechanically, and
looked furtively about me, while madame was busy in cutting a huge hunch
or two of black bread, and spreading upon them a thin scraping of rancid
butter.
There was an oil-lamp here, burning with a clear, bright blaze. Madame's
face was illuminated by it. It was a coarse, sullen face, with an
expression of low cunning about it. There was not a trace of refinement
or culture about her, not even the proverbial taste of a Frenchwoman in
dress. The kitchen was a picture of squalid dirt and neglect; the walls
and ceiling black with smoke, and the floor so crusted over with unswept
refuse and litter that I thought it was not quarried. The few
cooking-utensils were scattered about in disorder. The stove before
which we sat was rusty. Could I be dreaming of this filthy dwelling and
this slovenly woman? No; it was all too real for me to doubt their
existence for an instant.
She was pouring out some cold tea into two little cups, when Monsieur
Perrier made his appearance, his face begrimed and his shaggy hair
uncombed. I had been used to the sight of rough men in Adelaide, on our
sheep-farm, but I had never seen one more boorish. He stood in the
doorway, rubbing his hands, and gazing at us unflinchingly with the hard
stare of a Norman peasant, while he spoke in rapid, uncouth tones to his
wife. I turned away my head, and shut my eyes to this unwelcome sight.
"Eat, mees," said the woman, bringing us our food. "There is tea. We
give our pupils and instructresses tea for supper at six o'clock: after
that there is no more to eat."
I took a mouthful of the food, but I could hardly swallow it, exhausted
as I was from hunger. The bread was sour and the butter rancid; the tea
tasted of garlic. Minima ate hers ravenously, without uttering a word.
The child had not spoken since we entered these new scenes: her careworn
face was puckered, and her sharp eyes were glancing about her more
openly than mine. As soon as she had finished her hunch of black bread,
I signified to Madame Perrier that we were ready to go to our bedroom.
We had the same vaulted passage and cart-shed to traverse on our way
back to the other house. There we were ushered into a room containing
only two beds and our two boxes. I helped Minima to undress, and tucked
her up in bed, trying not to see the thin little face and sharp eyes
which wanted to meet mine, and look into them. She put her arm round my
neck, and drew down my head to whisper cautiously into my ear.
"They're cheats," she said, earnestly, "dreadful cheats. This isn't a
splendid place at all. Oh! whatever shall I do? Shall I have to stay
here four years?"
"Hush, Minima!" I answered. "Perhaps it is better than we think now. We
are tired. To-morrow we shall see the place better, and it may be
splendid after all. Kiss me, and go to sleep."
But it was too much for me, far too much. The long, long journey; the
hunger the total destruction of all my hopes; the dreary prospect that
stretched before me. I laid my aching head on my pillow, and cried
myself to sleep like a child.
I was awakened, while it was yet quite dark, by the sound of a
carpenter's tool in the room below me. Almost immediately a loud knock
came at my door, and the harsh voice of madame called to us.
"Get up, mees, get up, and come on," she said; "you make your toilet at
the school. Come on, quick!"
Minima was more dexterous than I in dressing herself in the dark; but we
were not long in getting ready. The air was raw and foggy when we turned
out-of-doors, and it was so dark still that we could scarcely discern
the outline of the walls and houses. But madame was waiting to conduct
us once more to the other house, and as she did so she volunteered an
explanation of their somewhat singular arrangement of dwelling in two
houses. The school, she informed me, was registered in the name of her
head governess, not in her own; and as the laws of France prohibited any
man dwelling under the same roof with a school of girls, except the
husband of the proprietor, they were compelled to rent two dwellings.
"How many pupils have you, madame?" I inquired.
"We have six, mees," she replied. "They are here; see them."
We had reached the house, and she opened the door of a long, low room.
There was an open hearth, with a few logs of green wood upon it, but
they were not kindled. A table ran almost the whole length of the room,
with forms on each side. A high chair or two stood about. All was
comfortless, dreary, and squalid.
But the girls who were sitting on the hard benches by the table were
still more squalid and dreary-looking. Their faces were pinched, and
just now blue with cold, and their hands were swollen and red with
chilblains. They had a cowed and frightened expression, and peeped
askance at us as we went in behind madame. Minima pressed closely to me,
and clasped my hand tightly in her little fingers. We were both entering
upon the routine of a new life, and the first introduction to it was
disheartening.
"Three are English," said madame, "and three are French. The English are
_frileuses_; they are always sheever, sheever, sheever. Behold, how they
have fingers red and big! Bah! it is disgusting."
She rapped one of the swollen hands which lay upon the table, and the
girl dropped it out of sight upon her lap, with a frightened glance at
the woman. Minima's fingers tightened upon mine. The head governess, a
Frenchwoman of about thirty, with a number of little black papillotes
circling about her head, was now introduced to me; and an animated
conversation followed between her and madame.
"You comprehend the French?" asked the latter, turning with a suspicious
look to me.
"No," I answered; "I know very little of it yet."
"Good!" she replied. "We will eat breakfast."
"But I have not made my toilet," I objected; "there was neither
washingstand nor dressing-table in my room."
"Bah!" she said, scornfully; "there are no gentlemans here. No person
will see you. You make your toilet before the promenade; not at this
moment."
It was evident that uncomplaining submission was expected, and no
remonstrance would be of avail. Breakfast was being brought in by one of
the pupils. It consisted of a teacupful of coffee at the bottom of a big
basin, which was placed before each of us, a large tablespoon to feed
ourselves with; and a heaped plateful of hunches of bread, similar to
those I had turned from last night. But I could fast no longer. I sat
down with the rest at the long table, and ate my food with a sinking and
sorrowful heart.
Minima drank her scanty allowance of coffee thirstily, and then asked,
in a timid voice, if she could have a little more. Madame's eyes glared
upon her, and her voice snapped out an answer; while the English girls
looked frightened, and drew in their bony shoulders, as if such temerity
made them shudder. As soon as madame was gone, the child flung her arms
around me, and hid her face in my bosom.
"Oh!" she cried, "don't you leave me; don't forsake me! I have to stay
here four years, and it will kill me. I shall die if you go away and
leave me."
I soothed her as best I could, without promising to remain in this trap.
Would it not be possible in some way to release her as well as myself? I
sat thinking through the long cold morning, with the monotonous hum of
lessons in my ears. There was nothing for me to do, and I found that I
could not return to the house where I had slept, and where my luggage
was, until night came again. I sat all the morning in the chilly room,
with Minima on the floor at my feet, clinging to me for protection and
warmth, such as I could give.
But what could I do either for her or myself? My store of money was
almost all gone, for our joint expenses had cost more than I had
anticipated, and I could very well see that I must not expect Madame
Perrier to refund Minima's fare. There was perhaps enough left to carry
me back to England, and just land me on its shores. But what then? Where
was I to go then? Penniless, friendless; without character, without a
name--but an assumed one--what was to become of me? I began to wonder
vaguely whether I should be forced to make myself known to my husband;
whether fate would not drive me back to him. No; that should never be. I
would face and endure any hardship rather than return to my former life.
A hundred times better this squalid, wretched, foreign school, than the
degradation of heart and soul I had suffered with him.
I could do no more for Minima than for myself, for I dared not even
write to Mrs. Wilkinson, who was either an accomplice or a dupe of
these Perriers. My letter might fall into the hands of Richard Foster,
or the woman living with him, and so they would track me out, and I
should have no means of escape. I dared not run that risk. The only
thing I could do for her was to stay with her, and as far as possible
shield her from the privations and distress that threatened us both. I
was safe here; no one was likely to come across me, in this remote
place, who could by any chance know me. I had at least a roof over my
head; I had food to eat. Elsewhere I was not sure of either. There
seemed to be no other choice given me than to remain in the trap.
"We must make the best of it, Minima," I whispered to the child, through
the hum of lessons. Her shrewd little face brightened with a smile that
smoothed all the wrinkles out of it.
"That's what father said!" she cried; "he said, 'Courage, Minima. God
will take care of my little daughter.' God has sent you to take care of
me. Suppose I'd come all the way alone, and found it such a horrid
place!"