The Ink-Stain, Complete
y
nd-especially the last. But now it wants only two mi
a-ta
me
clock, my friend
s Lam
warm. All the world was out and about. Who can stay indoors on May Day? As we neared the Chamber of Deputies, perambulators full of babies in white capes came pouring from all the neighboring st
f it, Fabien, and perhaps is
he is there before us. I have had a feeling
on't s
crowd. Her noble, clear-cut profile stands out against the Gobelin tapestries which frame it with their embroider
he Place de la Concorde, "allow me to present to you the intending successor of
ut in fine weather." The turnstiles were crowded, but at last we got through. We made but one step across the gravel court, the realm of sculpture where antique gods in every posture formed a mythological circle round the modern busts in the central walk. There wa
where is the sketch
e with him aroun
t in a meadow full of flowers. The buzzing remarks of the crowd add to the feeling of intoxication. They distract one's attention before it can settle anywhere, and carry it off to where some group is gathered before a great name, a costly frame, an enormous canvas, or an outrage on taste; twenty men on a gall
t of the picture, with both hands in his overcoat pockets, and his chin sunk in his collar; says nothing, but is quite happy developing an idea which has occurred to him on his way to it; comparing the picture before him with some former work by the same artist which he remembers. His who
by Bonnat, the two "Adorations," by Bouguereau, a landscape o
left the oi
ings slumbered, neglected. Lampron went straight to his works. I should have awarded them the medaille d'honneur; an etching of a
tly lovely; she will make a great mista
r sir; but I shall not
you g
patient, and do not forget to come
romi
pron va
dwork of one of them, and waited. On my left stretched a solitude seldom troubled by the few visitors who risk themselves in the realms o
Stout, exhausted matrons, breathless fathers of families, crowded the sofas, raising discouraged glances to the walls, while around them turned and tripped, u
nt! unless the ceaseless flux of these human phenomena lull you to a trance, what
med disappointed at the unexpected length of the gallery. They looked at each other and whispered. Then both smiled, and turning their backs on each other, they set off, one to the right, the other to the left, to examine the drawings which covered the walls. They made a rapid examinati
o, br
nt again through
at they were
foot, and hid myself far
two this time, but three, and the third was Je
Lampron's sketch, and
ned her head and saw me. The smile died away; she blushed, a tear seemed ready t
my soul, so deep that I
stant some one c
two little girls by t
I too fled, carrying with
ay beyond I saw M. Charnot. A young man was with him, who
othing,
! She lov
y
examiners! Downhearted, worn out by a night of misery, indiffe
ery wretched, but I never thought that I
which I had wrestled all night, than of the ordeal I was about to undergo. I met in the Luxembourg the little girl whom I had kissed the week before. She stopped her hoop and stood in my way, sta
cks, when you are grown a fair woman I trust
and entered the stuffy cou
wn. I avoided them for fear of meeting a friend and having to talk. Several professors came running
sed me up I don't know how many times in his hired gowns, saw that I was downcast, and thought I must be suffering
round me, brushing and encouraging me; doctors of
uillard, never fear. No one has be
t afraid
-imagine, I say, a candidate who knew absolutely nothing. That is nothing extraordinary. But this fellow, after the examination was
s,
so. You don't look like
y one has his bo
llard has some bother. Button up all the way, if you please,
ng of th
struggling with an asthmatic chuckle, until we
against the wall is a raised desk for the candidate. At the end, on a platform before a bookcase, sit the six examiners in red robes, capes with three bands
ad a chance of being br
mouth preparatory to putting the first question, like an epicure sucking a ripe fruit. And when at length he opened it, amid the general silence, it was to c
answer put fresh
ery good; let us carry it a
was examining no longer, he was inventing and intoxicating himself with deductions. No one was right or wrong. We were reasoning about chi
e mark, having exceeded by ten minute
ne. He kept repeating, "It's a serious matter, sir, very serious." But, nevertheless, he bestowed a second white mark on me. I only got half white from the third. The rest of t
nded. Two hou
ile the examiners
ends came
, old man, I bet
ve! I never
ce anybody, you still look bewildered
are
d to return to the examina
, "You have passed. I told you so
ile, and a few kind words for "this conscientious
e was waiting for me in the cou
llard will
ppose
pleased
very l
for your degree, and now you have got it you don't seem to care a bit. You have won a smile from Flamaran and do not conside
here,
her neatly gloved hands? Surely you know, my dear fellow, that
to be m
end you did
yesterday; I met her at the Salo
ai
es
al
the
-look
m-w
friend Dufilleul. Don'
N
arte, studied law in our year, and is always to be
r gi
pity
too
at
py child married
not be t
ambl
is that, t
fer only an assortment of damaged goods! Yes, I do pity girls duped thus, decei
ry males of equal innocence, under the guardianship of virtuous parents, the days of this world
worth
ic
euce h
ame which can
vid
Filleul. A year later he is Baron du Filleul. At the death of his father, an old cad, he becomes Comte du
gh
ill stand you an absinthe, the only beverage
shall g
u don't take your
od-
eels and went down the
y, as I do everything, and missed my chance of speaking. The mute declaration which I risked, or rather which a friend risked for me, found her already en
encouragement, no sign of liking me. If she smiled at St. Germain it was because she was surprised and flattered.
ce in my heart from which no other shall drive her. I shall now set to work to shut this poor heart which did so wrong to open.... I thought to be happy to-night, an
y whole future can be put off till to-morrow, or the day after, unless I get disgusted at the very thought o
y
an out-of-the-way place with an old relative, where he
e, "My dear Monsieur Fabien," and there was balm in the very way she said the words. I used to think she wanted refinement; she does not, she only lacks reading, and lack of reading may go with the most delicate and lofty feelings. No one ever taught her certain turns of expression which she used. "If your mother was alive," said she, "this is what she would say." And then she spoke to me of God, who alone can determinate man's trials,
ame Lampron's, soft