Miss Porquet declared herself satisfied with my replies, and told me that I should at once go into the first class, which, as well as the second, was under her own tuition. The third class was composed of children of various ages, from boys of seven to babies of three.
The third class was taken care of, petted, scolded, and taught and amused by two of Miss Porquet’s sisters. Now those babies in the third class were the very children that I dreaded most, their astonishment at my unfortunate nose was so unfeigned that it seemed like impudence.
“A GREAT BOY OF ELEVEN, RATHER A STUPID FELLOW.”
The first class consisted of five pupils including myself. There was, first of all, a great boy of eleven, rather a stupid fellow; he had the figure of a young man, and the knowledge of a mere baby. For three years he had been struggling with the rudiments of Latin; and he might, indeed, as well have struggled a little with the rudiments of his own language, for he could scarcely spell a single word correctly. His parents, who were rich, and very fond of travelling, did not know what to do with their stupid boy, so they left him to the care of Miss Porquet.
He had the greatest aversion to books of all kinds, but he took the greatest pride in fine clothes, bright coloured neckties, etc.; and he wore straps to his trousers. This boy used to hide himself in corners to eat chocolate. He was given the nickname of The Count by the other boys.
He came up to me just as we were going into the playground, and said point blank, “My name is Arthur de la Croulle!” (he evidently thought this a very fine name) “and what is your name?”
“My name is Paul Bicquerot,” I replied. He made a face of disgust, and gave me to understand that he thought Bicquerot a vulgar name. I never doubted but that he must be right; but I felt very sad, both on account of my parents and myself!
“My father is very rich” (here he rattled the money in his pocket), “and yours?” he asked.
