On hearing of this incident there was much talk at Compiègne over the half-forgotten story of the exiled and abandoned child.
As the elder son gave very little satisfaction to his father, they said it was God who was punishing the latter for his cruelty, but no one paid any attention to the cowherd’s prediction.
When he was nineteen Pierre possessed eleven hundred francs of savings. One autumn day when his father took the diligence, as he did every fortnight to go and see his eldest son at Paris, and especially to recommend him to his professors, who could do nothing with this student, an enemy of study, Pierre Seron, the younger, with bare feet, in order not to use his shoes, and with his knapsack on his back, started for the capital.
One can imagine in what sort of hovel he lived in the Latin quarter. Before inscribing himself at the Faculty, he sought out night-work on the wharves. His tall figure was an excellent recommendation for him, and he was engaged as an unloader of boats from eight o’clock in the evening to two o’clock in the morning at the price of forty-five cents. He needed no more on which to live, and he even hoped to add to his small hoard, which he feared would not be sufficient to pay for his terms and his books.
How many times have I, myself, made my grandfather tell me of this epoch of his life, which he recalled with pride.
Pélagie continued her story to her grandmother, who listened open-mouthed, touched to tears.
Pierre had taken his working clothes with him, and every night he became, not a dancing costumed sailor at public balls like his brother, but a boat-heaver on the Seine wharves.
During the day he followed the lectures with such zeal, such application, such passionate ardour, that he was soon remarked by his professors.
His name struck them; they questioned him, and one of them whom Doctor Seron had offended by reproaching him rudely for severity towards his eldest son, extolled the younger Seron, took special interest in him, and soon two camps were formed: that of the hard workers and friends of Pierre, and that of the rakes, friends of Théophile Seron. One day they came to blows, and Pierre, taking his brother by the arms, shook him vigorously.
“I told you that your brother, the cowherd, would find you again in Paris,” he said, letting him fall rather heavily on the floor.