The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other storiesMarryat, Florence
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The ghost of Charlotte Cray, and other stories
Marryat, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century; Ghost stories, English; Short stories, English
Yesterday I spoke to madame on the necessity of engaging someone
during the mornings to read French and German with the girls, as we
shall most likely be here for a month; and it is too long a time for
them to be idle. Madame did not think I should find a _demoiselle_ in
Rochefort who could instruct them; but there is a _professeur_ here
who has passed all his college examinations, and who, if he has the
time, will doubtless be very glad of the employment. I asked her to
send for the _professeur_ that I might speak to him on the subject;
and here, just as we have done dinner, he arrives; for madame throws
open the door, and with a certain pride in her voice (pride that
Rochefort should possess such an article), announces “_Monsieur le
Professeur_.” I glance up, thinking of Charlotte Brontë and her
professor, and hoping this one may not prove as dirty and seedy and
snuffy, and, to my amazement, see standing on the threshold a lad of
about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in green trousers and a blue
blouse, and holding his cap in his hand. The two girls immediately
choke, and bury their faces in their books, which renders my task of
catechising rather a difficult one; and I glance at E-- for aid, but
his countenance is almost level with the table as he pretends to draw.
So I find there is nothing to be done but to beg the _professeur_ to
be seated,--a request which he steadily refuses to comply with; and as
he stands there, twisting his cap in his hands, he looks so like a
butcher-boy, that it is a mercy I do not ask him what meat he has
to-day.
But the poor young man is so horribly nervous, as he tells me that,
though qualified for a tutor, he has never taught before, that I have
not the heart to refuse him on account of his youth; besides, is he
not the sole _professeur_ in Rochefort? So I give him leave to come
the next morning, and try, at all events, what he can do with the
girls; and he looks very happy for the permission. And we see him a
minute afterwards, striding proudly down the street, whistling as he
goes, and holding his head half an inch higher for having “got a
situation.” Of course the children make merry over him for the rest of
the evening, and cannot recall the appearance of their _professeur_
without shrieks of laughter; but he comes the next morning,
nevertheless, to commence his duties, and proves to be quite as
particular as older teachers, and much more competent than some, and
takes the youngest girl completely aback by telling her she shall be
punished if she is not steady.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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