eyes a green glisten, singular to witness. She once, as a mark of
high favour, took me up-stairs, and, opening a secret door, showed me a
hoard--a mass of coarse, large coin--about fifteen guineas, in
five-franc pieces. She loved this hoard as a bird loves its eggs. These
were her savings. She would come and talk to me about them with an
infatuated and persevering dotage, strange to behold in a person not
yet twenty-five.

The Parisienne, on the other hand, was prodigal and profligate (in
disposition, that is: as to action, I do not know). That latter quality
showed its snake-head to me but once, peeping out very cautiously. A
curious kind of reptile it seemed, judging from the glimpse I got; its
novelty whetted my curiosity: if it would have come out boldly, perhaps
I might philosophically have stood my ground, and coolly surveyed the
long thing from forked tongue to scaly tail-tip; but it merely rustled
in the leaves of a bad novel; and, on encountering a hasty and
ill-advised demonstration of wrath, recoiled and vanished, hissing. She
hated me from that day.

This Parisienne was always in debt; her salary being anticipated, not
only in dress, but in perfumes, cosmetics, confectionery, and
condiments. What a cold, callous epicure she was in all things! I see
her now. Thin in face and figure, sallow in complexion, regular in
features, with perfect teeth, lips like a thread, a large, prominent
chin, a well-opened, but frozen eye, of light at once craving and
ingrate. She mortally hated work, and loved what she called pleasure;
being an insipid, heartless, brainless dissipation of time.

Madame Beck knew this woman's character perfectly well. She once talked
to me about her, with an odd mixture of discrimination, indifference,
and antipathy. I asked why she kept her in the establishment. She
answered plainly, "because it suited her interest to do so;" and
pointed out a fact I had already noticed, namely, that Mademoiselle St.
Pierre possessed, in an almost unique degree, the power of keeping
order amongst her undisciplined ranks of scholars. A certain petrifying
influence accompanied and surrounded her: without passion, noise, or
violence, she held them in check as a breezeless frost-air might still
a brawling stream. She was of little use as far as communication of
knowledge went, but for strict surveillance and maintenance of rules
she was invaluable. "Je sais bien qu'elle n'a pas de principes, ni,
peut-etre, de moe