Confession Read Online Free Page B

then after our breakfast, we had made our way along the long central corridor towards Monsieur Heger’s study.
    Eyes have long been a fascination of mine. The quickest way to pin a character down is to describe the eyes – their colour, size, the way the pupils dance or appear dead like those of a fish. Neither of us had seen Madame Heger since our drawing class earlier in the week however that morning we both caught sight of her hovering outside the door that led to the back of the teacher’s lecturn in the main classroom. The door was slightly ajar and Madame was leaning towards it. She was listening to Mademoiselle Haussé teaching a history lesson – that much was certain and her eyes – which at this distance looked dark as grit – glittered brightly.
    Emily and I stopped in our tracks. Surely we had not just witnessed our directrice in the ungenerous act of spying on one of her teachers. The indignity! The shame of it! Not only to be doing such a thing, but to be
caught
in the act, yet Madame Heger, when she finally noticed us watching her, instead of blushing or seeming flustered, momentarily skewered us with the blackest of looks then swiftly turned this darkness into a smile.
    ‘Good-morning Mademoiselles,’ she said as she swept past so defiantly I felt almost
jealous
.The keys at her waist jangled as Emily and I stood and stared at each another.
    ‘She had to make certain the lesson ran smoothly,’ I whispered.
    ‘She was spying on Mademoiselle Haussé!’
    ‘You cannot know that,’ I replied although at the same time thinking that – were I in Madame Heger’s position – I would do much the same for Mademoiselle Haussé was hardly the most gifted of teachers. She taught in a similar fashion to the way in which she dressed for despite being a tall, handsome woman she never chose clothes that conveyed discipline of character, instead preferring an odd mis-match of styles.
    The girls constantly giggled behind her back – her feet were too big they said, her petticoats too short and her ankles – which were permanently on display due to the sorry state of her petticoats – were thick and red as bacon.
    ‘What else could she have been doing?’ Emily hissed.
    I hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words. ‘Spying is too harsh a description,’ I said acutely aware that this time it was Emily’s gentle, yet perceptive eyes that were upon me. ‘She was assessing the situation.’
    Emily looked at me curiously. ‘We should go in,’ she said nodding towards the door at the far end of the corridor. ‘We do not want to keep Monsieur waiting.’
    Monsieur Heger’s study was an untidy, poorly maintained room - yet civilized. Two desks were placed in the centre whilst at the far end Monsieur Heger’s own table stood piled high with leather-bound volumes together with sheathes of vellum and blotting paper and countless bottles of ink. One side of the room was dominated by bookshelves. I had always thought Father’s study held the most books, now I was disillusioned of that fact. Row uponrow of titles were stacked one after the other on the shelves, their titles glittering me towards them enticingly.
    By the window stood a glass cabinet displaying a collection of birds’ eggs laid out in order of size on what appeared to be a thick layer of wool.
    Everything was exactly as I had imagined the study of a serious man of letters to be, all except the sweet scent of cigar smoke that lingered in the air.
    ‘Welcome!’ Monsieur Heger said jumping up from his desk and showing us to our seats. ‘You have settled in well I hope, Mademoiselle?’ he said turning to Emily who responded with a nod of the head but not, much to my embarrassment, anything more civil. ‘
Bien
!’ he declared. ‘
Ca c’est tres bien
! Now would you please repeat Monsieur Heger’s [here he spoke of himself in the third person which made both Emily and I smile] recipe for success!
    Spirit of Wisdom, guide us: - he boomed.
    Spirit