"And where are you now?" I inquired.
"Oh! at--chose," said she.
Now, Miss Ginevra Fanshawe (such was this young person's name) only substituted this word "chose" in temporary oblivion of the real name. It was a habit she had: "chose" came in at every turn in her conversation--the convenient substitute for any missing word in any language she might chance at the time to be speaking. French girls often do the like; from them she had caught the custom. "Chose," however, I found in this instance, stood for Villette--the great capital of the great kingdom of Labassecour.
"Do you like Villette?" I asked.
"Pretty well. The natives, you know, are intensely stupid and vulgar; but there are some nice English families."
"Are you in a school?"
"Yes."
"A good one?"
"Oh, no! horrid: but I go out every Sunday, and care nothing about the maîtresses or the professeurs, or the élèves, and send lessons au diable (one daren't say that in English, you know, but it sounds quite right in French); and thus I get on charmingly.... You are laughing at me again?"
"No--I am only smiling at my own thoughts."
"What are they?" (Without waiting for an answer)--"Now, do tell me where you are going."
"Where Fate may lead me. My business is to earn a living where I can find it."
"To earn!" (in consternation) "are you poor, then?"
"As poor as Job."
(After a pause)--"Bah! how unpleasant! But I know what it is to be poor: they are poor enough at home--papa and mamma, and all of them. Papa is called Captain Fanshawe; he is an officer on half-pay, but well-descended, and some of our connections are great enough; but my uncle and godpapa De Bassompierre, who lives in France, is the only one that helps us: he educates us girls. I have five sisters and three brothers. By-and-by we are to marry--rather elderly gentlemen, I suppose, with cash: papa and mamma manage that. My sister Augusta is married now to a man much older-looking than papa. Augusta is very beautiful--not in my style--but dark; her husband, Mr. Davies, had the yellow fever in India, and he is still the colour of a guinea; but then he is rich, and Augusta has her carriage and establishment, and we all think she has done perfectly well. Now, this is better than 'earning a living,' as you say. By the way, are you clever?"
"No--not at all."
"You can play, sing, speak three or four languages?"
"By no means."
"Still I think you are clever" (a pause and a yawn).
"Shall you be sea-sick?"