Villette - chapters 28-35

Several new developments have occurred in these pages, but they were rather visible afar off.

• Graham and Polly like each other. While away on a trip, Polly was present when the mail came and was surprised to receive a letter herself from Graham. In it he apparently professed his admiration of her. Polly wrote back, thanking him and subtly made it known that the sentiments were reciprocated. There are difficulties, however. Paulina's father, Mr. Home, still thinks of and treats her as a child. How will he react when he hears of the secret "thing" between his daughter and Dr. Bretton? [On that note, I wonder what Ginevra will do ;-)]
• M. Paul has a high regard for Lucy. Bronte's writing is rather murky on this point - I cant tell whether it's just friendship or love. (I'm hoping for the former because the man is over 40. Ew.) In these chapters you can see their relationship dramatically change: They go from regularly fighting in chapters 28 & 29 to living in mutual peace to - in chapter 35 - M. Paul's offering of his life-long friendship to Lucy.
  
• We also learn about M.Paul's past. Commissioned to take a gift from Madame Beck to a house on the other side of town, Lucy meets up with an odd set of people upon arriving at her destination. The door is opened by an ancient and suspicious maid. The recipient of the gift is an old, malevolent looking lady. And what do you know, but the priest who tried to convert Lucy earlier on turns out to live there too! When a thunderstorm breaks out as Lucy is about to leave, the priest tells a story about two young people in love who were separated over financial differences. The girl, refusing to marry another, became a nun and died shortly afterwards. The young man, forgetting the wrongs done to him, took care of the girl's family after her father died. You guessed it - it's M. Paul. The grouchy old lady is his beloved Justine Marie's grandmother. Being the faithful lover that he was, he has never thought of another woman since.
  

The legend at the school is that a paranormal apparition - a nun, to be exact - haunts the garret of the building. Lucy has seen it twice - the first being back when Lucy had a crush on Graham. Distressed and lonely, she was sitting in the attic reading a letter of his when the nun appeared floating towards her. The second instance occurred when she was sitting in the alley alone in a contemplative mood. Graham, who got her to confide in him about it, assured Lucy that it was just her nerves doing weird things to her. And she believed it. Until now. M. Paul declares that he has seen it too, and while they talk in the alley, the nun appears! This must be his long lost love. I'm anxious to see what the apparition is all about!

One of the funniest chapters in the book is 29 - M. Paul and Lucy get into one of their trademark fights over a misunderstanding, namely that the day on which it happened was his anniversary of teaching at the school and everyone generally gave him a present, usually a bouquet. Lucy, however, goes against the grain and makes him (what I believe is) a chain for a pocket watch. She didn't get around to giving it to him at the right time, and he takes it as a total rejection. His reaction was downright comic. The whole section had me laughing but I'll close with this choice excerpt -

Owing to some little accidental movement—I think I dropped my thimble on the floor, and in stooping to regain it, hit the crown of my head against the sharp corner of my desk; which casualties (exasperating to me, by rights, if to anybody) naturally made a slight bustle. M. Paul became irritated, and dismissing his forced equanimity, and casting to the winds that dignity and self-control with which he never cared long to encumber himself, he broke forth into the strain best calculated to give him ease.

I don’t know how, in the progress of his discours, he had contrived to cross the Channel and land on British ground; but there I found him when I began to listen.

Casting a quick cynical glance round the room—a glance which scathed, or was intended to scathe, as it crossed me—he fell with fury upon “les Anglaises.”

Never have I heard English women handled as M. Paul that morning handled them. He spared nothing—neither their minds, morals, manners, nor personal appearance. I specially remember his abuse of their tall stature, their long necks, their thin arms, their slovenly dress, their pedantic education, their impious scepticism, their insufferable pride, their pretentious virtue; over which he ground his teeth malignantly, and looked as if, had he dared, he would have said singular things. Oh! he was spiteful, acrid, savage, and, as a natural consequence, detestably ugly.

“Little, wicked, venomous man!” thought I; “am I going to harass myself with fears of displeasing you, or hurting your feelings? No, indeed; you shall be indifferent to me as the shabbiest bouquet in your pyramid.”

I grieve to say I could not quite carry out this resolution. For some time the abuse of England and the English found and left me stolid. I bore it some fifteen minutes stoically enough; but this hissing cockatrice was determined to sting, and he said such things at last—fastening not only upon our women but upon our greatest names and best men, sullying the shield of Britannia and dabbling the Union Jack in mud—that I was stung. With vicious relish he brought up the most spicy current Continental historical falsehoods, than which nothing can be conceived more offensive. Zélie and the whole class became one grin of vindictive delight, for it is curious to discover how these clowns of Labassecour secretly hate England. At last, I struck a sharp stroke on my desk, opened my lips, and let loose this cry,—

“Vive l’Angleterre, l’Histoire et les Héros! A bas la France, la Fiction et les Faquins!” [Long live England, history and heroes! Down with France, fiction and fops!]

The class was struck of a heap. I suppose they thought me mad.

HAHA. I love you, Lucy Snowe.