“Of course, such a word as this is a mere abortion. We say le lendemain, that is to say, le le en demain, when, evidently, what we ought to say is l’en demain; we say le lierre for l’ierre, which alone is correct. The foundations of language were laid by the people. Everywhere in it we find ignorance, error, whim; in its simplicity lies its greatest beauty. It is the work of ignorant minds, to whom everything save nature is a sealed book. It comes to us from afar, and those who have handed it down to us were by no means grammarians after the style of Noël and Chapsal.”
Then he thought:
“At her age, in her humble, struggling position.... I can understand that a beautiful, idle, much idolised woman ... but she!”
Yet, as he was a reader by instinct, he still went on reading:
“Let us treat it as a precious inheritance, but, at the same time, let us never look too closely into it. In speaking, and even in writing, it is a mistake to trouble too much about etymology....”
“And he, my favourite pupil, whom I have invited to my house ... ought he not?...”
“Etymology teaches us that God is He Who shines, and that the soul is a breath, but into these old words men have read meanings which they did not at first possess.”
“Adultery!”
This word came to his lips with such force that he seemed to feel it in his mouth like a coin, like a thin medal. Adultery!...
Suddenly he saw a picture of all that this word implied, its associations—commonplace, domestic, absurd, clumsily tragic, sordidly comic, ridiculous, uncouth; even in his misery he chuckled.