Her duty done—­I felt that in her eyes this business was a duty—­she rose, noiseless as a shadow:  she moved toward her own chamber; at the door she turned, fixing her eyes on the heroine of the bottle, who still slept and loudly snored.  Mrs. Svini (I presume this was Mrs. Svini, Anglice or Hibernice Sweeny)—­Mrs. Sweeny’s doom was in Madame Beck’s eye—­an immutable purpose that eye spoke:  madame’s visitations for shortcomings might be slow, but they were sure.  All this was very un-English:  truly I was in a foreign land....

When attired, Madame Beck appeared a personage of a figure rather short and stout, yet still graceful in its own peculiar way:  that is, with the grace resulting from proportion of parts.  Her complexion was fresh and sanguine, not too rubicund; her eye, blue and serene; her dark silk dress fitted her as a French sempstress alone can make a dress fit; she looked well, though a little bourgeoise, as bourgeoise indeed she was.  I know not what of harmony pervaded her whole person; and yet her face offered contrast too:  its features were by no means such as are usually seen in conjunction with a complexion of such blended freshness and repose:  their outline was stern; her forehead was high but narrow; it expressed capacity and some benevolence, but no expanse; nor did her peaceful yet watchful eye ever know the fire which is kindled in the heart or the softness which flows thence.  Her mouth was hard:  it could be a little grim; her lips were thin.  For sensibility and genius, with all their tenderness and temerity, I felt somehow that madame would be the right sort of Minos in petticoats.

In the long run, I found that she was something else in petticoats too.  Her name was Modeste Maria Beck, nee Kint:  it ought to have been Ignacia.  She was a charitable woman, and did a great deal of good.  There never was a mistress whose rule was milder.  I was told that she never once remonstrated with the intolerable Mrs. Sweeny [the heroine’s predecessor], despite her tipsiness, disorder, and general neglect; yet Mrs. Sweeny had to go, the moment her departure became convenient.  I was told too that neither masters nor teachers were found fault with in that establishment:  yet both masters and teachers were often changed; they vanished and others filled their places, none could well explain how.

The establishment was both a pensionnat and an externat:  the externes or day-pupils exceeded one hundred in number; the boarders were about a score.  Madame must have possessed high administrative powers:  she ruled all these, together with four teachers, eight masters, six servants, and three children, managing at the same time to perfection the pupil’s parents and friends; and that without apparent effort, without bustle, fatigue, fever, or any symptom of undue excitement; occupied she always was—­busy, rarely.  It is true that madame had her own system for managing and regulating this mass of machinery; and a very pretty system it was:  the reader has seen a specimen of it in that small affair of turning my pocket inside out and reading my private memoranda. Surveillance, espionnage, these were her watchwords.