Jane Eyre eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 705 pages of information about Jane Eyre.

Jane Eyre eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 705 pages of information about Jane Eyre.

He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Celine Varens, towards whom he had once cherished what he called a “grande passion.”  This passion Celine had professed to return with even superior ardour.  He thought himself her idol, ugly as he was:  he believed, as he said, that she preferred his “taille d’athlete” to the elegance of the Apollo Belvidere.

“And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage, cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, &c.  In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any other spoony.  I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre.  I had —­ as I deserved to have —­ the fate of all other spoonies.  Happening to call one evening when Celine did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night, and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so lately by her presence.  No, —­ I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her:  it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an odour of sanctity.  I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony.  It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene.  The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar, —­ I will take one now, if you will excuse me.”

Here ensued a pause, filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense on the freezing and sunless air, he went on —

“I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was croquant —­ (overlook the barbarism) —­ croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the ‘voiture’ I had given Celine.  She was returning:  of course my heart thumped with impatience against the iron rails I leant upon.  The carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata) alighted:  though muffed in a cloak —­ an unnecessary encumbrance, by-the-bye, on so warm a June evening —­ I knew her instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage-step.  Bending over the balcony, I was about to murmur ‘Mon ange’ —­ in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love alone —­ when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochere of the hotel.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Jane Eyre from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.