“Yes.”
“A dull, stupid occupation; do you like it?”
“No—it is tedious.”
“Why do you pursue it? Why do you not rather teach history, geography, grammar, even arithmetic?”
“Is monsieur certain that I am myself thoroughly acquainted with these studies?”
“I don’t know; you ought to be at your age.”
“But I never was at school, monsieur—”
“Indeed! What then were your friends—what was your aunt about? She is very much to blame.”
“No monsieur, no—my aunt is good—she is not to blame—she does what she can; she lodges and nourishes me” (I report Mdlle. Henri’s phrases literally, and it was thus she translated from the French). “She is not rich; she has only an annuity of twelve hundred francs, and it would be impossible for her to send me to school.”
“Rather,” thought I to myself on hearing this, but I continued, in the dogmatical tone I had adopted:—