I meant in the last chapter to have told a great deal more; but so many
of my troubles and misadventures kept creeping in, that I did not get in
one-half of what I intended. What pains I took to gain an interview--
or, rather, to grant the poor fellow an interview, though it would have
been to me the reaching of a green oasis in my journey across life's
desert, when, for a short time, the gentle palm branches would have
waved, as it were, in gentle motion above our heads, while our cheeks
would have been fanned by the gentle breath of love.
Of course there was a terrible to do about the basin in the morning, but
it so happened, luckily, that the cat was not beneath our window, but
beyond the Fraulein's; so that in trying to reach it, Clara had thrown
the basin for some distance, and right past our neighbour's window. The
Fraulein declared that she had never opened hers; and, poor woman, she
opened her mouth into quite a round O when told that she must have
thrown it out. There was nothing to cast suspicion upon us, for it was
more likely to have been Celia Blang, on the other side of the Fraulein;
and so, at last, the matter dropped, and we heard no more of it then.
But I had such a delightful treat two days after; for while we were
going down the High Street, Miss Furness must turn faint, and have to be
helped into the first house at hand, to sit down and rest, and that was
Mrs Jackney's, the milliner's; and there we were, four or five of us at
once, in the little parlour--dear Achille's "apartment meublee," as he
called it. He was from home, giving lessons somewhere, no doubt; but
while they were bathing Miss Furness's face, and giving her sniffs of
salts, and glasses of water to drink, I had such a look round the place,
and saw his dear old boots in one corner--the pair, I was sure, he must
put on for ease and comfort of a night; and I was so glad to see them,
for, if, instead, I had caught sight of a nice, handsomely worked pair
of slippers, they would have given me quite a pang. Now I felt that the
task--no, the pleasure--was left for me.
Then there was a dear, duck of an old coat hanging behind the door; and
such nice, funny little holes in the elbows, where he had rested his
arms upon the table while he studied; and there was his pipe, and two
bits of cigars, and a few yellow paper-covered books, and one thing
which did, I must own, make me feel a little uncomfortable, a scarlet
and black smoking cap--at least, it had been scarlet once, and had
evidently been made by a lady, and, of course, one would have liked to
have known who was the maker.
At first, in remembrance of her bitter, teasing words, I thought that it
might have been Clara; but it did not look new enough; for the scarlet
was fast verging upon the black, and, no doubt, in a short time it would
have been impossible to make out the pattern. But I was glad to see it;
for it was a hint that Achille would soon require a new one, and I knew
who would make it. However, I did not much care; and taking advantage
of there being no one looking, I contrived to drop my handkerchief
inside it; but directly after I trembled, and wanted to have it back
again, for there was my name marked upon it in full, in ink, and I was
afraid that his landlady, Mrs Jackney, might see it.
I had a good look at her, to see whether I need feel jealous, and found,
to my great delight, that I need not; for she was worse in appearance
than Miss Furness, but evidently a very pleasant body; though, all the
same I should not have liked her to find my handkerchief. However,
there was no getting it back; for Miss Furness was now able to sit up,
and I was one of the first to be obliged to leave the room, and stand
agonised in the passage, lest any one should find out what I had done.
But nothing was seen, and I heard afterwards from Achille, in one of his
notes--the best, I think, that he ever wrote to me--how fondly he prized
the treasure; and I mentally declared that it was not a bad way of
laying out the value of a pocket-handkerchief, and that he should soon
have another.
It was all so horribly unfortunate. If we made an engagement to meet,
something was sure to happen; while, in spite of the time that had now
passed since the poor Signor left, not one short five minutes had poor
Achille and I had together. It was enough to make me ever so fond and
devoted; and though I might be trembling a little in my allegiance at
one time, I was ready to become a martyr now for his sake. But, as I
said before, the very fact of an assignation being made was the signal
for, or precursor of, something to happen; so that, I'm sure, I was
quite in a tremble, a few days after Miss Furness's faint, when Achille
gave me a few lines inside De Porquet, telling me, in a few simple
words, that he was again that night about to try his fortune, when he
hoped I should be able to assist him to benefit the poor exiles, who
were now in a great state of distress. No one, to have found that scrap
of paper, would have imagined that it was anything more than a piece
torn off to act as book-mark, and he gave me the book with it standing
right out, so that Miss Furness could see it quite plainly as he passed
it right under her nose, saying--
"I have put a piece of paper where you shall go on, Miss Bozerne."