“I have nearly finished,” remarked Poluche; “it is almost time to let these scamps have their soup.”
Then turning to his pupils, who had not dared to stir a limb, he said,—
“There, that is enough for to-day; you can go.”
The children did not hesitate for a moment, but tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get away, hoping, perhaps, that he might omit to execute certain threats that he had held out during the lesson. The hope was a vain one, for the equitable Poluche went to the head of the stairs and called out in a loud voice,—
“Mother Butor, you will give no soup to Monte and put Ravillet on half allowance.”
Tantaine was much interested, for the scene was an entirely new one.
The professor raised his eyes to heaven.
“Would,” said he, “that I might teach them the divine science as I would wish; but the master would not allow me; indeed, he would dismiss me if I attempted to do so.”
“I do not understand you.”
“Let me explain to you. You know that there are certain old women who, for a consideration, will train a linnet or a bullfinch to whistle any air?”