Monsieur Maurice | Page 6

the world.
There were books upon the table; there was a thing like a telescope on a
brass stand in the window; there was a guitar lying on the couch. The
fire, too, was burning brightly now, and the room altogether wore a
cheerful air of habitation.
"It looks more like a lady's boudoir than a prison," said Monsieur
Maurice, reading my thoughts. "I wonder whose rooms they were
before I came here!"
"They were nobody's rooms," said I. "They were quite empty."
And then I told him where we had found the furniture, and how the
ornamental part thereof had been of my choosing.
"I don't know who the ladies are," I said, referring to the portraits. "I
only chose them for their pretty faces."
"Their lovers probably did the same, petite, a hundred years ago,"

replied Monsieur Maurice. "And the clock--did you choose that also?"
"Yes; but the clock doesn't go."
"So much the better. I would that time might stand still also--till I am
free! till I am free!"
The tears rushed to my eyes. It was the tone more than the words that
touched my heart. He stooped and kissed me on the forehead.
"Come to the window, little one," said he, "and I will show you
something very beautiful. Do you know what this is?"
"A telescope!"
"No; a solar microscope. Now look down into this tube, and tell me
what you see. A piece of Persian carpet? No--a butterfly's wing
magnified hundreds and hundreds of times. And this which looks like
an aigrette of jewels? Will you believe that it is just the tiny plume
which waves on the head of every little gnat that buzzes round you on a
Summer's evening?"
I uttered exclamation after exclamation of delight. Every fresh object
seemed more wonderful and beautiful than the last, and I felt as if I
could go on looking down that magic tube for ever. Meanwhile
Monsieur Maurice, whose good-nature was at least as inexhaustible as
my curiosity, went on changing the slides till we had gone through a
whole boxfull.
By this time it was getting rapidly dusk, and I could see no longer.
"You will show me some more another day?" said I, giving up
reluctantly.
"That I will, petite, I have at least a dozen more boxes full of slides."
"And--and you said I should see your sketches, Monsieur Maurice."
"All in good time, little Gretchen," he said, smiling. "All in good time.
See--those are the sketches, in yonder folio; that mahogany case under
the couch contains a collection of gems in glass and paste; those red
books in the bookcase are full of pictures. You shall see them all by
degrees; but only by degrees. For if I did not keep something back to
tempt my little guest, she would not care to visit the solitary prisoner."
I felt myself colour crimson.
"But--but indeed I would care to come, Monsieur Maurice, if you had
nothing at all to show me," I said, half hurt, half angry.
He gave me a strange look that I could not understand, and stroked my
hair caressingly.

"Come often, then, little one," he said. "Come very often; and when we
are tired of pictures and microscopes, we will sit upon the floor, and
tell sad stories of the deaths of kings."
Then, seeing my look puzzled, he laughed and added:--
"'Tis a great English poet says that, Gretchen, in one of his plays."
Here a shrill trumpet-call in the court-yard, followed by the prolonged
roll of many drums, warned me that evening parade was called, and
that as soon as it was over my father would be home and looking for
me. So I started up, and put out my hand to say good-bye.
Monsieur Maurice took it between both his own.
"I don't like parting from you so soon, little Mädchen," he said. "Will
you come again to-morrow?"
"Every day, if you like!" I replied eagerly.
"Then every day it shall be; and--let me see--you shall improve my bad
German, and I will teach you French."
I could have clapped my hands for joy. I was longing to learn French,
and I knew how much it would also please my father; so I thanked
Monsieur Maurice again and again, and ran home with a light heart to
tell of all the wonders I had seen.

4
From this time forth, I saw him always once, and sometimes twice a
day--in the afternoons, when he regularly gave me the promised French
lesson; and occasionally in the mornings, provided the weather was
neither too cold nor too damp for him to join me in the grounds. For
Monsieur Maurice was not strong. He could not with impunity face
snow, and rain, and our keen Rhenish north-east