第106页
《简·爱(英文版)》章节:第106页,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
curious study,- reasons that I may, nay, that I shall, impart to you
some day). She pulled out of her box, about ten minutes ago, a
little pink silk frock; rapture lit her face as she unfolded it;
coquetry runs in her blood, blends with her brains, and seasons the
marrow of her bones. "Il faut que je l'essaie!" cried she, "et a
l'instant meme!" and she rushed out of the room. She is now with
Sophie, undergoing a robing process: in a few minutes she will
re-enter; and I know what I shall see,- a miniature of Celine
Varens, as she used to appear on the boards at the rising of-. But
never mind that. However, my tenderest feelings are about to receive a
shock: such is my presentiment; stay now, to see whether it will be
realised.'
Ere long, Adele's little foot was heard tripping across the hall.
She entered, transformed as her guardian had predicted. A dress of
rose-coloured satin, very short, and as full in the skirt as it
could be gathered, replaced the brown frock she had previously worn; a
wreath of rosebuds circled her forehead; her feet were dressed in silk
stockings and small white satin sandals.
'Est-ce que ma robe va bien?' cried she, bounding forwards; 'et mes
souliers? et mes bas? Tenez, je crois que je vais danser!'
And spreading out her dress, she chasseed across the room; till,
having reached Mr. Rochester, she wheeled lightly round before him
on tip-toe, then dropped on one knee at his feet, exclaiming-
'Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte; then rising,
she added, 'C'est comme cela que maman faisait, n'est-ce pas,
monsieur?'
'Pre-cise-ly!' was the answer; 'and, "comme cella," she charmed
my English gold out of my British breeches' pocket. I have been green,
too, Miss Eyre- ay, grass green: not a more vernal tint freshens you
now than once freshened me. My Spring is gone, however, but it has
left me that French floweret on my hands, which, in some moods, I
would fain be rid of. Not valuing now the root whence it sprang;
having found that it was of a sort which nothing but gold dust could
manure, I have but half a liking to the blossom, especially when it
looks so artificial as just now. I keep it and rear it rather on the
Roman Catholic principle of expiating numerous sins, great or small,
by one good work. I'll explain all this some day. Good-night.'
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CHAPTER XV
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MR. ROCHESTER did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one
afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adele in the grounds: and
while she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk
up and down a long beech avenue within sight of her.
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