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Villette

3. The Playmates
Mr. Home stayed two days. During his visit he could not be prevailed on to go out: he sat
all day long by the fireside, sometimes silent, sometimes receiving and answering Mrs.
Bretton's chat, which was just of the proper sort for a man in his morbid mood - not over-
sympathetic, yet not too uncongenial; sensible, and even with a touch of the motherly -
she was sufficiently his senior to be permitted this touch.
As to Paulina, the child was at once happy and mute, busy and watchful. Her father
frequently lifted her to his knee; she would sit there till she felt or fancied he grew
restless; then it was:
'Papa, put me down; I shall tire you with my weight.'
And the mighty burden slid to the rug, and establishing itself on carpet or stool just at
'papa's' feet, the white work-box and the scarlet-speckled handkerchief came into play.
This handkerchief it seems was intended as a keepsake for 'papa', and must be finished
before his departure; consequently the demand on the sempstress's industry (she
accomplished about a score of stitches in half an hour) was stringent.
The evening, by restoring Graham to the maternal roof (his days were passed at school),
brought us an accession of animation - a quality not diminished by the nature of the
scenes pretty sure to be enacted between him and Miss Paulina.
A distant and haughty demeanour had been the result of the indignity put upon her the
first evening of his arrival: her usual answer, when he addressed her, was:
'I can't attend to you; I have other things to think about.' Being implored to state what
things: 'Business.'
Graham would endeavour to seduce her attention by opening his desk and displaying its
multifarious contents: seals, bright sticks of wax, pen-knives, with a miscellany of
engravings - some of them gaily coloured - which he had amassed from time to time. Nor
was this powerful temptation wholly unavailing: her eyes, furtively raised from her work,
cast many a peep towards the writing-table, rich in scattered pictures. An etching of a
child playing with a Blenheim spaniel happened to flutter to the floor.
'Pretty little dog!' said she, delighted.
Graham prudently took no notice. Ere long, stealing from her corner, she approached to
examine the treasure more closely. The dog's great eyes and long ears, and the child's hat
and feathers, were irresistible.
'Nice picture!' was her favourable criticism.
 
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