“Madame rang a small bell, which stood on a table beside her; a moment after, a tall mulatto made his appearance. I had never seen any of the negro race before, and was much astonished at, what I considered, the odd color of his skin; he received her message, delivered to him in French, and directed his steps toward the room at the end of the gallery, from which he returned in a few minutes, leading by the hand two young girls, both older than I; the one a brunette, the other a blonde; their manner was lady-like, gentle, and winning. Inez’s hair was raven black, her eyes large, voluptuous, and star-like in their expression; Blanche, on the contrary, was timid as a fawn, in her look and ways: there was a dreamy languor in her sad blue eyes, which seemed to tell of love’s present or future reveries—a love, however, of a more spiritual kind than Inez would ever be capable of feeling; a profusion of pale flaxen hair shaded her sweet face, and hung nearly to her waist in long curls; they were both dressed alike, in frocks of cheap calico; they bowed respectfully to their teacher on entering her parlor, and upon Monsieur Belmont’s presenting me to them as one who was to become a companion in their studies, they politely kissed me on each cheek, and bade me welcome to their school. I could not realize, while contemplating the refinement of these two girls, that they had been taken, a few short years before, from the same position in life, from which this philanthropic man had rescued me but one day previous; truly, it is education, and the society in which we mingle, which impress in youth that bias of mind for right or wrong, which only leaves us when life does.
“‘You three will occupy the same room,’ said Madame. ‘I hope you will be good friends. Inez and Blanche soon cultivated a friendship for each other after they came.’
“The tears still flowed from my eyes; my heart in after days, became too hard and dry to allow me to weep often; but then the fount of feeling was a fresh, pure spring, uncontaminated by the mud and refuse of inferior streams. I often look back, through the heavy mist time has left lowering upon those early days, and regret the loss of those fallacious hopes; those splendid castles built in air, which always crumbled into dust whenever I attempted to approach them.
“Monsieur Belmont, after speaking to Inez and Blanche a moment, in French, shook hands with me, bade me not cry, and departed. Madame Deville reassuming the school-mistress deportment, and her gravity, which had been laid aside to entertain a visitor, led me to the schoolroom, and the two girls returned to their desks, their silence, and their studies. It was a very large room, lighted by two enormous windows, one at each end; the walls hung, not with superb paintings like Monsieur Belmont’s elegant house, but with charts and maps; rows of desks were ranged each side of the apartment, and more than a hundred girls, of all sizes, shapes, and ages, were seated at them, busily engaged in coning over their lessons for recitation. Upon my entrance, being a new scholar, all eyes were bent on me, and a subdued whispering ran through all the ranks of girls. Madame put me at a desk between Inez and Blanche, and then taking her seat upon an elevated dias at the head of the room. She struck her desk with a ruler, and called one of the classes; the girls, who were called loudly, all rose, shut their books, and placed themselves before her in a row. This class was composed of large girls, neatly dressed, some of them were passably pretty; no two in the room, however, could be compared to Inez and Blanche. They all stared at me as they passed; it was a lesson in ancient history they were to recite. Madame taking one of the books in her hand, asked the questions in a loud, clear tone; and the pupils replied, some well, some wrong, according as they had learned their lessons; the recitation ended, Madame marked those who had missed upon a large day-book, which always lay open upon her desk before her. Several smaller classes were heard, and Inez and Blanche left my side for a while, to recite their lessons; then I heard the sound of a deep-toned bell, rung for several minutes: it was now recess for an hour; all the girls clamorously rushed from the school-room, seized their sun-bonnets, and poured themselves into the court-yard. It was a gloomy spot for a play-ground; there were no trees, no flowers, which we are ever wont to associate in mind with children’s gambols. Nothing but the square flag-stones, flanked on all four sides, by the brick walls of the house, met my view. Inez and Blanche put up their books, and turning to me, Blanche said, ‘Come, Genevra, come with us to the yard, and play hide and seek.’ Inez also pressed me to go and play with them, for I felt shy and strange, and would have preferred remaining where I was. Blanche evidently was a favorite with Madame, for as she went out of the school-room, to rest herself a few minutes in her parlor, before the pupils returned to their studies, she kissed me, saying I must laugh and play, and enjoy myself with the other children; and then said to Blanche, ‘Well, my dear, how is that fine soprano voice of yours, have you practiced well this morning?’ Blanche smilingly replied she had; there was a sweetness about that smile of hers, and an expression of guileless innocence in her lovely eyes, I could never forget.
“How little did we three inexperienced girls imagine what the future had in store for us. Could a magician, at that period of time, have shown us in a magic mirror, our several destinies in life, would we have believed, that the fatal sisters had allotted to us so chequered and sad a career? I am certain I would not. How grateful should we be to Divine Providence, that all insight into futurity is forbidden us; how unable would we be to contend with the many trials and difficulties, which constantly assail us in the rough pathway of life; could we foresee the sacrifices which are so frequently demanded of us as we journey on.
“Inez, Blanche, and myself, descended hand-in-hand to the court-yard; the girls were all joyously at play. I always was a grave child; I cared but little for the sports and amusements children so dearly covet, but on this occasion I forgot my usual sadness and joined them in an animated race, which lasted several minutes, when the bell again was rung; and the girls arranging their disordered dresses, and composing their faces, returned to the school-room in pairs, as they had left it.
“Order was restored, and the rest of the afternoon spent in recitation and writing; I saw several teachers, whom I had not seen during the morning, having been absent in different parts of the house, giving lessons in music and dancing. They were all thin, and had a starved and hungry look, excepting Miss Jones, a fat, good-humored English teacher. I became quite fond of her during my long residence at the school. I learned from Blanche, that Monsieur Belmont, was a Frenchman, from Paris, manager of the Royal Italian Opera, and considered the most splendid singer in Vienna; he also gave lessons in vocal music to some of the pupils at the school, among whom were Inez and Blanche; the girl dwelt with touching sadness upon the humble condition, from which this kind man had taken both Inez and herself, what advantages of education had been afforded them, and how grateful they felt towards him.
CHAPTER IV.
“Blanche had just finished her little story, related with an air of childish simplicity, which gave infinite interest, when the loud sound of a gun reverberated through the house. I had never heard one then, and imagined it was thunder. Twilight’s dusky hue had stolen into the room, before we were aware of its approach. Madame Deville commissioned my future instructor, Madame Schiller, to attend to me, and, following her, we went to the refectory; it was a long, low ceiled, narrow room; two long tables extended almost as far as my eye could reach, covered with snow-white table linen, and scanty portions of bread and butter; a glass of water stood by each plate; weak tea was handed to the teachers, who stood together in a group, apart from the girls, and chatted of their own affairs. I could not help mentally comparing this meagre fare, with the delicacies I had eaten the night before at Monsieur Belmont’s. It may seem surprising, that a beggar girl should regret a style of living, of which she had only caught a passing glance; but luxury is infinitely more attractive than want; we sooner become accustomed to it, and lament its loss when deprived of it. Very few would conscientiously prefer, had they their choice, a life of rigorous self-sacrifice, to one of wealth and splendor. It is generally a matter of compulsion and self-love induces us to advocate that which we cannot change.