In spite of the cold he seated himself on a stone, his head in his hands, overwhelmed with gloomy thoughts. This was the first deep grief, the first severe disappointment, he had experienced: it seemed to him that all was over, and that there was no more hope nor happiness possible for him in this world.
A hand laid upon his shoulder made him start; he raised his head—his father was behind him. Paul threw himself into his arms at once, sobbing.
“Come, Paul, my boy, calm yourself,” said M. de Gandelau to him. “We are living in a time of trials; who knows what are reserved for us? For us, indeed, they have scarcely begun. Think how much suffering there is in France now! What are our anxieties and griefs compared with the anguish suffered by others! Reserve your tears; perhaps you will have only too frequent occasion for them. We need not be in a hurry to despond. I observed you going in this direction, and followed you, anticipating your melancholy feelings. But, after all, what is there to grieve over? Nothing, or only a trifle. Set to work again courageously, alone, since our friend has been obliged to quit us to fulfil a sacred duty. He will return; you have learned to love and esteem him more: prove to him that you are worthy of the affection he has exhibited to you by showing him some thoroughly good work when he comes back.
“Certainly he would be touched by your grief, of which his absence is to a great extent the cause; be assured that he would be still more touched to see that you had scrupulously followed his last instructions, and that his presence is not the only inducement to make you like work.”
Father and son regained the house. The counsels of M. de Gandelau, and the pains he took to give Paul a glimpse of brighter days, had by degrees restored to him, if not gaiety, at least tranquillity of mind and the desire to do his best. M. de Gandelau most dreaded for his son a feeling of despondency—that vague and sterile sadness on which youth sometimes loves to feed, and which enervates the most gifted minds.
He therefore entered Paul’s room, and taking up Vitruvius, which had been left on the table, began to look through it. M. de Gandelau was a good scholar, though he never made a parade of his acquirements. They were a possession he reserved for himself. Familiar with the classics, he could read the text of Vitruvius, if not explain it architecturally in all its parts. “Stay,” said he to Paul, “here is a chapter which must be interesting, and which may teach you many things; it is Chapter VIII.: De generibus structuræ et earum qualitatibus, modis ac locis. How would you translate this title?”
“Of the kinds of constructions, and their qualities, according to customs and localities,” replied Paul.
“Yes, that is the translation. But on looking through this chapter, I see that masonry only is considered; the author, in making use of the word structura, seems to me to have wished only to treat of constructions of brick or stone. It would be better, doubtless, to render the passage thus: Of the different kinds of masonry, and the properties of this structure according to local usages and circumstances.
“Well, set to work to translate this eighth chapter. I see that the author has described the kinds of masonry whose use he recommends on such or such occasions. You will therefore have to illustrate your translation by sketches. Come! take courage, and imagine your cousin at hand ready to rectify your mistakes.”
Paul therefore set himself to work, endeavouring to embody in sketches each of Vitruvius’s descriptions. This gave him no little trouble, of course; many words were new to him, and the dictionary helped him only very imperfectly when it was necessary to know their exact sense. Nevertheless, by degrees the work acquired a charm for him. To further his comprehension of the author he tried to recall to mind buildings he had seen; he remembered some instructions given by Eugène; and put on paper, to the best of his ability, opposite the translation, sketches tolerably drawn, if they were not the true expression of the descriptions in the original.