Miss Chutney no sooner heard the voice of Miss Wewitz, than she felt all the rigidity she had been throwing into her limbs suddenly leave her, and her legs become as limp and bendy as sugar-sticks in hot weather; and it was merely the conviction that they would all be ruined if she moved a joint, that sustained her in her statuesque position.
The Count ran to the door, and bowing in the face of the schoolmistress, so as to obstruct her view, thanked her for her polite information, and excused himself for shutting her out, by saying that some of his friends were not yet dressed.
Immediately the schoolmistress had left, Miss Chutney, who began to feel in no way equal to the task she had undertaken, entreated of the Count to allow her to return to the linen-room. But this, of course, was a proposition that the Frenchman, now that he had obtained possession of the girl, felt in no way inclined to listen to; so, by dint of compliments on her charming appearance in her new character, and protestations of the most fervent devotion, and assurances of the unceasing happiness that awaited her in Paris, he at length succeeded in calming the young lady’s perturbation.
Miss Chutney, however, had not much time to think over the consequences of the step she was about to take, for scarcely had the Count finished his exhortation and eulogium, when the servant announced that the cab was at the door, and the men were ready to carry down the luggage.
It was then arranged that Adolphe should escort the rest of the Frenchmen out of the house as soon as possible, so that the girl might not be flurried by the presence of so many. And as soon as this part of the operations had been executed, the Count, who had remained continually by the side of the wavering girl, exhorting her to have “courage” but for a few moments longer, quitted her for a few minutes, in order to come to a settlement with Miss Wewitz.
He had scarcely left the room when the cabman and his companion, in obedience to the instructions of M. Adolphe Sheek, stepped up from the hall to remove the lay figure, with the greatest possible care, to the cab.
On entering the apartment, the men were mightily taken with the figure of the Sister of Charity, and declared to one another that if they hadn’t been given to understand it was an artist’s model, they should have taken it for a living woman.
For some little time they amused themselves by merely contemplating the model, and wondering what character it could be intended to represent. The sombreness and peculiarity of the costume seemed to take their fancy vastly. In a few minutes, as the novelty of the impression began to wear away, they commenced handling the rosary, lifting up the white apron, and, ultimately, the black crape veil.
This was a severe trial for the nerves of Miss Chutney; but with her teeth firmly set, and holding her breath, she remained with her eyes upturned, and with every feature and limb as rigid as if they were petrified.
The men grew more pleased than ever with the life-like appearance of the figure, and could not keep from laughing at the apparent intensity of the model’s devotion. Presently, the cab-driver drew the short clay pipe from under the band of his hat, and saying to his companion, “I say, Jem, here’s a lark!” thrust the end of it into the corner of poor Miss Chutney’s mouth.