he
imperturbable courtesy of the old Frenchman's manner. The pastor would
often question the schoolmaster sharply concerning the music he played.
'Chorales are all very fine,' he said, 'but surely oftentimes you play
music from the abominable Mass, not fitting indeed in a holy place set
apart for the worship of the Lord according to our pure faith?' 'Ah!
Pastor, but the notes cannot contaminate,' Monsieur Gabriel would answer;
'Luther himself made use of the monk's melodies in his canticles.' And
Pastor Mueller retired to his dirty, airless house, feeling rebuked
himself where he had wished to chide.

When Wilhelmine von Graevenitz appeared at the Guestrow school, a
curly-haired child, Monsieur Gabriel had immediately fallen victim to her
wayward charm, and had lavished much care on her studies. He taught her
French thoroughly. 'I am told,' he was wont to say, 'that even in Germany
no lady speaks aught save French, and you, my child, must be a great lady
some day. Believe me, there is no more magnificent being than a true
_grande dame_, and for this destiny the good God fashioned you.' He
trained Wilhelmine in music, till thorough-bass, counterpoint, and the
rest became to her an easy exercise. He read her of the history of
France; taught her to know and love the _Roman de la Rose_, and the poems
of the singers of La Pleiade. Often he would quote Malherbes, saying with
a smile and a sigh as he looked at her radiant youth: 'Et rose, elle a
vecu ce que vivent les roses, l'espace d'un matin; for,' he said, 'the
flowers of the world fade quickly, and thou art surely a flower, my
little one.' He read her the works of Racine, Corneille, Moliere, all of
which learning she assimilated rapidly, and with an accuracy which
delighted the old scholar. Sometimes, of an evening, he would keep her
with him long after school hours, and one winter he took it into his head
that she must learn to dance. He tied an inky tablecloth to her shoulders
to serve as a sweeping garment. It was infinitely droll to see the two,
mincing, bowing, and pirouetting in front of the mirror. 'You must _see_
yourself curtsey,' he said, 'if you would learn the real movement.' He
taught her the gavotte, the pavane, and many other dances, playing the
measures on an old violin the while. The school desks served for dummy
dancers, and were arranged to give her a notion of the ordering of the
figures. The aged recluse, in his musty coat, seemed transformed into a
v