behind. Rosine introduced Dr. John, and, with a freedom of manner not altogether peculiar to herself, but characteristic of the domestics of Villette generally, she stayed to hear what he had to say. Madame’s presence would have awed her back to her own realm of the vestibule and the cabinet—for mine, or that of any teacher or pupil, she cared not a jot. Smart, trim and pert, she stood, a hand in each pocket of her gay grisette apron, eyeing Dr. John with no more fear or shyness than if he had been a picture instead of a living gentleman.
“” said she, indicating Georgette with a jerk of her chin.
“”, was the answer, as the doctor hastily scribbled with his pencil some harmless prescription.
“” pursued Rosine, approaching him quite near, while he put up his pencil. “And the box—did you get it? Monsieur went off like a coup de vent the other night; I had not time to ask him”.
“I found it: yes”.
“And who threw it then?” continued Rosine, speaking quite freely the very words I should so much have wished to say, but had no address courage to bring it out: how short some people make the road to a point which, for others, seems unattainable!
“That may be my secret” rejoined Dr. John briefly, but with no sort of hauteur: he seemed quite to understand the Rosine or grisette character.
“”, continued she, nothing abashed, “monsieur knew it was thrown, since he came to seek it—how did he know?”
“I was attending a little patient in the college near”, said he, “and saw it dropped out of his chamber window, and so came to pick it up”.
How simple the whole explanation! The note had alluded to a physician as then examining “Gustave”.
“Ah ça!” pursued Rosine, “”
“”, responded the doctor, showing his palm.
“” responded the grisette: “ ”.