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Updated: June 7, 2025
Not a soul in Madame Beck's house, from the scullion to the directress herself, but was above being ashamed of a lie; they thought nothing of it: to invent might not be precisely a virtue, but it was the most venial of faults. "J'ai menti plusieurs fois," formed an item of every girl's and woman's monthly confession: the priest heard unshocked, and absolved unreluctant.
Farther down still, the deep bass oath of the choleric resurrection-man; but above, all was silent. Only one floor intervened between Grabman's apartment and the ladder that led to Beck's loft. And the inmates of that room gave no sound of life.
Her precocious, intelligent face was beaming with circumspection and the desire to help. She did not ask permission, but set to work where need was. If Pelle was away at Beck's workshop, he always found his room clean and tidy in the evening. If he had work at home, she would bring coffee for the two of them during the morning.
"There, papa: but remember you are only waited upon with this assiduity; on condition of being persuadable, and reconciling yourself to La Terrasse for the day." "Mrs. Bretton," said the Count, "I want to get rid of my daughter to send her to school. Do you know of any good school?" "There is Lucy's place Madame Beck's." "Miss Snowe is in a school?"
"The term ended abruptly because the principal's wife met with affliction and they had to go out of town to her old home." Betty, it must be confessed, had at this point an instinctive remembrance of Mrs. Beck's love for dismal tales, so she hastened to change the subject of conversation. Mrs. Beck was very kind-hearted when any one was ill or in trouble.
Ardworth's story, and the fact of Beck's identity with Vincent Braddell, were also reserved for a later occasion. Evidently the poor lad had been already delirious; his story must be deemed the nightmare of his disordered reason. Varney insisted upon surgical examination as to the cause of his death.
For a while every one was busied with the thoughts which Jacob's recital had suggested, and there was a solemn pause, which was broken by Carl Beck's striking up another song to keep off sleep: "Before the wind and a flowing sail, Vessels for every port! In letters of gold a dear girl's name On every stern inwrought! The vessel may sail the world around, But with her the girls will still be found!
He paused a few moments under the colonnade which faced Beck's old deserted crossing. His pause attracted the notice of one of the unhappy beings whom we suffer to pollute our streets and rot in our hospitals. She approached and spoke to him, to him whose heart was so full of Helen! He shuddered, and strode on.
Villette is a cosmopolitan city, and in this school were girls of almost every European nation, and likewise of very varied rank in life. Equality is much practised in Labassecour; though not republican in form, it is nearly so in substance, and at the desks of Madame Beck's establishment the young countess and the young bourgeoise sat side by side.
"She's such a little thing." But she had heard it all, and understood enough to make her vaguely unhappy. Going home she did not frisk along with Fritz, but walked soberly by Mom Beck's side, holding tight to the friendly black hand. "We'll go through the woods," said Mom Beck, lifting her over the fence. "It's not so long that way."
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