"I think he engaged her,"she said,"because he--he thought I would like her,Miss Minchin."
"I am afraid,"said Miss Minchin,with a slightly sour smile,"that you have been a very spoiled little girl and always imagine that things are done because you like them.My impression is that your papa wished you to learn French."
If Sara had been older or less punctilious about being quite polite to people,she could have explained herself in a very few words.
But,as it was,she felt a flush rising on her cheeks.Miss Minchin was a very severe and imposing person,and she seemed so absolutely sure that Sara knew nothing whatever of French that she felt as if it would be almost rude to correct her.The truth was that Sara could not remember the time when she had not seemed to know French.
Her father had often spoken it to her when she had been a baby.
Her mother had been a French woman,and Captain Crewe had loved her language,so it happened that Sara had always heard and been familiar with it.
"I--I have never really learned French,but--but--"she began,trying shyly to make herself clear.
One of Miss Minchin's chief secret annoyances was that she did not speak French herself,and was desirous of concealing the irritating fact.
She,therefore,had no intention of discussing the matter and laying herself open to innocent questioning by a new little pupil.
"That is enough,"she said with polite tartness."If you have not learned,you must begin at once.The French master,Monsieur Dufarge,will be here in a few minutes.Take this book and look at it until he arrives."
Sara's cheeks felt warm.She went back to her seat and opened the book.
She looked at the first page with a grave face.She knew it would be rude to smile,and she was very determined not to be rude.
But it was very odd to find herself expected to study a page which told her that "le pere"meant "the father,"and "la mere"
meant "the mother."
Miss Minchin glanced toward her scrutinizingly.
"You look rather cross,Sara,"she said."I am sorry you do not like the idea of learning French."
"I am very fond of it,"answered Sara,thinking she would try again;"but--"
"You must not say `but'when you are told to do things,"
said Miss Minchin."Look at your book again."
And Sara did so,and did not smile,even when she found that "le fils"
meant "the son,"and "le frere"meant "the brother."
"When Monsieur Dufarge comes,"she thought,"I can make him understand."
Monsieur Dufarge arrived very shortly afterward.He was a very nice,intelligent,middle-aged Frenchman,and he looked interested when his eyes fell upon Sara trying politely to seem absorbed in her little book of phrases.
"Is this a new pupil for me,madame?"he said to Miss Minchin.
"I hope that is my good fortune."
"Her papa--Captain Crewe--is very anxious that she should begin the language.But I am afraid she has a childish prejudice against it.
She does not seem to wish to learn,"said Miss Minchin.
"I am sorry of that,mademoiselle,"he said kindly to Sara.
"Perhaps,when we begin to study together,I may show you that it is a charming tongue."
Little Sara rose in her seat.She was beginning to feel rather desperate,as if she were almost in disgrace.She looked up into Monsieur Dufarge's face with her big,green-gray eyes,and they were quite innocently appealing.She knew that he would understand as soon as she spoke.She began to explain quite simply in pretty and fluent French.Madame had not understood.
She had not learned French exactly--not out of books--but her papa and other people had always spoken it to her,and she had read it and written it as she had read and written English.
Her papa loved it,and she loved it because he did.Her dear mamma,who had died when she was born,had been French.She would be glad to learn anything monsieur would teach her,but what she had tried to explain to madame was that she already knew the words in this book--and she held out the little book of phrases.
When she began to speak Miss Minchin started quite violently and sat staring at her over her eyeglasses,almost indignantly,until she had finished.Monsieur Dufarge began to smile,and his smile was one of great pleasure.To hear this pretty childish voice speaking his own language so simply and charmingly made him feel almost as if he were in his native land--which in dark,foggy days in London sometimes seemed worlds away.When she had finished,he took the phrase book from her,with a look almost affectionate.
But he spoke to Miss Minchin.
"Ah,madame,"he said,"there is not much I can teach her.She has not LEARNED French;she is French.Her accent is exquisite."
"You ought to have told me,"exclaimed Miss Minchin,much mortified,turning to Sara.
"I--I tried,"said Sara."I--I suppose I did not begin right."
Miss Minchin knew she had tried,and that it had not been her fault that she was not allowed to explain.And when she saw that the pupils had been listening and that Lavinia and Jessie were giggling behind their French grammars,she felt infuriated.
"Silence,young ladies!"she said severely,rapping upon the desk.
"Silence at once!"
And she began from that minute to feel rather a grudge against her show pupil.
