We did not easily regain our seats; the lottery was begun, and all was excited confusion; crowds blocked the sort of corridor along which we had to pass: it was necessary to pause for a time. Happening to glance round⁠—indeed I half fancied I heard my name pronounced⁠—I saw quite near, the ubiquitous, the inevitable M. Paul. He was looking at me gravely and intently⁠—at me, or rather at my pink dress⁠—sardonic comment on which gleamed in his eye. Now it was his habit to indulge in strictures on the dress, both of the teachers and pupils, at Madame Beck’s⁠—a habit which the former, at least, held to be an offensive impertinence; as yet I had not suffered from it⁠—my sombre daily attire not being calculated to attract notice. I was in no mood to permit any new encroachment tonight; rather than accept his banter, I would ignore his presence, and accordingly steadily turned my face to the sleeve of Dr. John’s coat; finding in that same black sleeve a prospect more redolent of pleasure and comfort, more genial, more friendly, I thought, than was offered by the dark little Professor’s unlovely visage. Dr.