ns! The first view of her seemed to confirm my worst
apprehensions. There she sat, dressed out in a light green muslin gown,
on her head a lace cap with flourishing red roses in the frill; her
table was carefully spread; there were fruit, cakes, and coffee, with a
bottle of something--I did not know what. Already the cold sweat started
on my brow, already I glanced back over my shoulder at the closed
door, when, to my unspeakable relief, my eye, wandering mildly in the
direction of the stove, rested upon a second figure, seated in a large
fauteuil beside it. This was a woman, too, and, moreover, an old woman,
and as fat and as rubicund as Madame Pelet was meagre and yellow; her
attire was likewise very fine, and spring flowers of different hues
circled in a bright wreath the crown of her violet-coloured velvet
bonnet.

I had only time to make these general observations when Madame Pelet,
coming forward with what she intended should be a graceful and elastic
step, thus accosted me:

"Monsieur is indeed most obliging to quit his books, his studies, at the
request of an insignificant person like me--will Monsieur complete his
kindness by allowing me to present him to my dear friend Madame Reuter,
who resides in the neighbouring house--the young ladies' school."

"Ah!" thought I, "I knew she was old," and I bowed and took my seat.
Madame Reuter placed herself at the table opposite to me.

"How do you like Belgium, Monsieur?" asked she, in an accent of the
broadest Bruxellois. I could now well distinguish the difference between
the fine and pure Parisian utterance of M. Pelet, for instance, and
the guttural enunciation of the Flamands. I answered politely, and then
wondered how so coarse and clumsy an old woman as the one before me
should be at the head of a ladies' seminary, which I had always heard
spoken of in terms of high commendation. In truth there was something
to wonder at. Madame Reuter looked more like a joyous, free-living old
Flemish fermiere, or even a maitresse d'auberge, than a staid, grave,
rigid directrice de pensionnat. In general the continental, or at least
the Belgian old women permit themselves a licence of manners, speech,
and aspect, such as our venerable granddames would recoil from as
absolutely disreputable, and Madame Reuter's jolly face bore evidence
that she was no exception to the rule of her country; there was a
twinkle and leer in her left eye; her right she kept habitually half
shut, wh