Part 14 (2/2)
”Your book an instant.” Such was the mode in which I often began these brief dialogues; the time was always just at the conclusion of the lesson; and motioning to her to rise, I installed myself in her place, allowing her to stand deferentially at my side; for I esteemed it wise and right in her case to enforce strictly all forms ordinarily in use between master and pupil; the rather because I perceived that in proportion as my manner grew austere and magisterial, hers became easy and self-possessed--an odd contradiction, doubtless, to the ordinary effect in such cases; but so it was.
”A pencil,” said I, holding out my hand without looking at her. (I am now about to sketch a brief report of the first of these conferences.) She gave me one, and while I underlined some errors in a grammatical exercise she had written, I observed--
”You are not a native of Belgium?”
”No.”
”Nor of France?”
”No.”
”Where, then, is your birthplace?”
”I was born at Geneva.”
”You don't call Frances and Evans Swiss names, I presume?”
”No, sir; they are English names.”
”Just so; and is it the custom of the Genevese to give their children English appellatives?”
”Non, Monsieur; mais--”
”Speak English, if you please.”
”Mais--”
”English--”
”But” (slowly and with embarra.s.sment) ”my parents were not all the two Genevese.”
”Say BOTH, instead of 'all the two,' mademoiselle.”
”Not BOTH Swiss: my mother was English.”
”Ah! and of English extraction?”
”Yes--her ancestors were all English.”
”And your father?”
”He was Swiss.”
”What besides? What was his profession?”
”Ecclesiastic--pastor--he had a church.”
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