“Come， M.Pelet，” said I， “you had better go to bed，” and I took hold of his arm.His excitement， of course， increased greatly at sight and touch of the individual for whose blood he had been making application： he struggled and struck with fury—but a drunken man is no match for a sober one； and， even in his normal state， Pelet’s worn out frame could not have stood against mysound one.I got him up-stairs， and， in process of time， to bed.During the operation he did not fail to utter comminations which， though broken， had a sense in them； while stigmatizing me as the treacherous spawn of a perfidious country， he， in the same breath， anathematized Zora？de Reuter； he termed her “femme sotte et vicieuse，” who， in a fit of lewd caprice， had thrown herself away on an unprincipled adventurer； directing the point of the last appellation by a furious blow， obliquely aimed at me.I left him in the act of bounding elastically out of the bed into which I had tucked him； but， as I took the precaution of turning the key in the door behind me， I retired to my own room， assured of his safe custody till the morning， and free to draw undisturbed conclusions from the scene I had just witnessed.
Now， it was precisely about this time that the directress， stung by my coldness， bewitched by my scorn，and excited by the preference she suspected me of cherishing for another， had fallen into a snare of her own laying—was herself caught in the meshes of the very passion with which she wished to entangle me.Conscious of the state of things in that quarter， I gathered， from the condition in which I saw my employer， that his lady-love had betrayed the alienation of her affections—inclinations， rather， I would say； affection is a word at once too warm and too pure for the subject—had let him see that the cavity of her hollow heart， emptied of his image， was now occupied by that of his usher.It was not without some surprise that I found myself obliged to entertain this view of the case； Pelet， with his old-established school， was so convenient， so profitable a match—Zora？de was so calculating， so interested a woman—I wondered mere personal preference could， in her mind， have prevailed for a moment overworldly advantage： yet， it was evident， from what Pelet said， that， not only had she repulsed him， but had even let slip expressions of partiality for me.One of his drunken exclamations was， “And the jade doats on your youth， you raw blockhead！ and talks of your noble deportment， as she calls your accursed English formality— and your pure morals， forsooth！ des moeurs de Caton a-t-elle dit— sotte！” Hers， I thought， must be a curious soul， where in spite of a strong， natural tendency to estimate unduly advantages of wealth and station， the sardonic disdain of a fortuneless subordinate had wrought a deeper impression than could be imprinted by the most flattering assiduities of a prosperous chef d’institution.I smiled inwardly； and strange to say， though my amour propre was excited not disagreeably by the conquest， my better feelings remained untouched.Next day， when I saw the directress， and when she made an excuse to meet me in the corridor， and besought my notice by a demeanour and look subdued to Helot humility， I could not love， I could scarcely pity her.To answer briefly and dryly some interesting inquiry about my health—to pass her by with a stern bow—was all I could； her presence and manner had then， and for some time previously and consequently， a singular effect upon me： they sealed up all that was good elicited all that was noxious in my nature； sometimes they enervated my senses， but they always hardened my heart.I was aware of the detriment done， and quarrelled with myself for the change.I had ever hated a tyrant； and， behold， the possession of a slave， self-given， went near to transform me into what I abhorred！ There was at once a sort of low gratification in receiving this luscious incense from an attractive and still young worshipper； and an irritating sense of degradation in the very experience of the pleasure.When she stoleabout me with the soft step of a slave， I felt at once barbarous and sensual as a pasha.I endured her homage sometimes； sometimes I rebuked it.My indifference or harshness served equally to increase the evil I desired to check.
“Que le dédain lui sied bien！” I once overheard her say to her mother： “il est beau comme Apollon quand il sourit de son air hautain.”
And the jolly old dame laughed， and said she thought her daughter was bewitched， for I had no point of a handsome man about me， except being straight and without deformity.“Pour moi，” she continued， “il me fait tout l’effet d’un chat-huant， avec ses bésicles.”
Worthy old girl！ I could have gone and kissed her had she notbeen a little too old， too fat， and too red-faced； her sensible， truthful words seemed so wholesome， contrasted with the morbid illusions of her daughter.
