“At two o’clock, mind. Marguerite, the housekeeper, does not like to be kept waiting.”
So saying, the worthy Curé left me.
My uncle, I found, would not be at home till the evening, so, at the hour appointed, I found myself alone, tapping at the Abbé’s door, and dressed out in all my Sunday splendor.
The Curé opened it himself.
“Ah, monsieur, I am so sorry to trouble you!”
“Trouble? Nonsense! Only Marguerite cannot be at the door and at her kitchen stove at the same time. Talking of which, she tells me we will not have dinner till three. Now, what do you say to a first Latin lesson, as my friend Drouet tells me that you wish to learn that language.”
I was only too glad to acquiesce; and, before dinner was served, I understood that there were five declensions in the Roman tongue.
During the simple repast which followed, I surveyed the Abbé’s furniture with a critical eye, and a mental resolve to do it all up for him again.
Then, after having arranged about my future hours with my kind preceptor, I returned home, one step further up the ladder of progress. That very evening, we were apprised of a visit of the Count de Dampierre, the Viscount de Malmy, and some other young nobles.