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1Mr. Rochester did, on a future occasion, explain it. It was one afternoon, when he chanced to meet me and Adèle in the
2grounds: and while she played with Pilot and her shuttlecock, he asked me to walk up and down a long beech avenue within
3sight of her. He then said that she was the daughter of a French opera-dancer, Céline Varens, towards whom he had once
4cherished what he called a "grande passion." This passion Céline had professed to return with even superior ardour. He
5thought himself her idol, ugly as he was: he believed, as he said, that she preferred his "taille d'athlète" to the
6elegance of the Apollo Belvidere. "And, Miss Eyre, so much was I flattered by this preference of the Gallic sylph for
7her British gnome, that I installed her in an hotel; gave her a complete establishment of servants, a carriage,
8cashmeres, diamonds, dentelles, &c. In short, I began the process of ruining myself in the received style, like any
9other spoony. I had not, it seems, the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction, but trode the old
10track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre. I had--as I deserved to have--the fate of all
11other spoonies. Happening to call one evening when Céline did not expect me, I found her out; but it was a warm night,
12and I was tired with strolling through Paris, so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so
13lately by her presence. No,--I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a
14sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber, than an odour of sanctity. I was just beginning to
15stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences, when I bethought myself to open the window and
16step out on to the balcony. It was moonlight and gaslight besides, and very still and serene. The balcony was furnished
17with a chair or two; I sat down, and took out a cigar,--I will take one now, if you will excuse me." Here ensued a
18pause, filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah
19incense on the freezing and sunless air, he went on-- "I liked bonbons too in those days, Miss Eyre, and I was
20croquant--(overlook the barbarism)--croquant chocolate comfits, and smoking alternately, watching meantime the equipages
21that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera-house, when in an elegant close carriage drawn
22by a beautiful pair of English horses, and distinctly seen in the brilliant city-night, I recognised the 'voiture' I had
23given Céline. She was returning: of course my heart thumped with impatience against the iron rails I leant upon. The
24carriage stopped, as I had expected, at the hotel door; my flame (that is the very word for an opera inamorata)
25alighted: though muffed in a cloak--an unnecessary encumbrance, by-the-bye, on so warm a June evening--I knew her
26instantly by her little foot, seen peeping from the skirt of her dress, as she skipped from the carriage-step. Bending
27over the balcony, I was about to murmur 'Mon ange'--in a tone, of course, which should be audible to the ear of love
28alone--when a figure jumped from the carriage after her; cloaked also; but that was a spurred heel which had rung on the
29pavement, and that was a hatted head which now passed under the arched porte cochère of the hotel. "You never felt
30jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments
31yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses
32in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears,
33you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I
34tell you--and you may mark my words--you will come some day to a craggy pass in the channel, where the whole of life's
35stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or
36lifted up and borne on by some master-wave into a calmer current--as I am now. "I like this day; I like that sky of
37steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield, its antiquity, its
38retirement, its old crow-trees and thorn-trees, its grey façade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin:
39and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it, shunned it like a great plague-house? How I do still abhor--"
40He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought
41seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance. We were ascending the avenue when
42he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never
43saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire, impatience, disgust, detestation, seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict
44in the large pupil dilating under his ebon eyebrow. Wild was the wrestle which should be paramount; but another feeling
45rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical: self-willed and resolute: it settled his passion and petrified his
46countenance: he went on-- "During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood
47there, by that beech-trunk--a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. 'You like
48Thornfield?' she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all
49along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows, 'Like it if you can! Like it if you dare!' "'I will
50like it,' said I; 'I dare like it;' and" (he subjoined moodily) "I will keep my word; I will break obstacles to
51happiness, to goodness--yes, goodness. I wish to be a better man than I have been, than I am; as Job's leviathan broke
52the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hindrances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and
53rotten wood." Adèle here ran before him with her shuttlecock. "Away!" he cried harshly; "keep at a distance, child; or
54go in to Sophie!" Continuing then to pursue his walk in silence, I ventured to recall him to the point whence he had
55abruptly diverged-- "Did you leave the balcony, sir," I asked, "when Mdlle. Varens entered?" I almost expected a rebuff
56for this hardly well-timed question, but, on the contrary, waking out of his scowling abstraction, he turned his eyes
57towards me, and the shade seemed to clear off his brow. "Oh, I had forgotten Céline! Well, to resume. When I saw my
58charmer thus come in accompanied by a cavalier, I seemed to hear a hiss, and the green snake of jealousy, rising on
59undulating coils from the moonlit balcony, glided within my waistcoat, and ate its way in two minutes to my heart's
60core. Strange!" he exclaimed, suddenly starting again from the point. "Strange that I should choose you for the
61confidant of all this, young lady; passing strange that you should listen to me quietly, as if it were the most usual
62thing in the world for a man like me to tell stories of his opera-mistresses to a quaint, inexperienced girl like you!
63But the last singularity explains the first, as I intimated once before: you, with your gravity, considerateness, and
64caution were made to be the recipient of secrets. Besides, I know what sort of a mind I have placed in communication
65with my own: I know it is one not liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind: it is a unique one. Happily I do not
66mean to harm it: but, if I did, it would not take harm from me. The more you and I converse, the better; for while I
67cannot blight you, you may refresh me." After this digression he proceeded--
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