D. Castle to the windows? Try again. I am the most patient teacher in the world. And we have the whole afternoon before us. So don’t hurry and don’t disappoint me. Think!
R. Let me see.... “Château” may sometimes be rendered by “country-house.” The country-house to the windows. I know my vocables.
D. Your stock of words will pass; and such praise as is due to you for having gotten them by heart should not be withheld. But you will never learn English. “Castle to the windows” is treating our language in your usual brigandish fashion; de haut en bas. How often have I told you that a language must be courted, like a lover!
R. Never learn English? Are you serious? If so, allow me to say that I have already learnt more than enough to pass my examination. I know my vocables, as you yourself admit. I am also acquiring a little more polish, which I confess may still be needful. And latterly—how I have learnt to converse!
D. Yes; how! This is most discouraging, after all my efforts. Castle to the windows—good God! It might drive a less optimistic tutor crazy. Let us sit down on this stone for a moment, and I will tell you something that has just occurred to me. There was once a Greek poet and grammarian called Palladas, who was favored, like myself, with promising pupils of your style; who was a teacher, I mean, and nearly committed suicide in consequence——
R. They never do it, those fellows, although one wishes they would. It is the pupils who sometimes kill themselves. Your Pylades is probably alive to this day. Well?
D. Well, during one of his fits of depression at their extraordinary intelligence, he wrote a little couplet which still exists to prove the depth of his despair. Believe me, I can sympathize just now with the unhappy Palladas. The castle to the windows.... Would you like to translate his two short lines? They are very easy. And then you will understand the state of my feelings.
R. Not if you write in Greek. Put them into French, and I will translate anything you please. Here is a scrap of paper.
D. ...There now! Go ahead. No, no, no. I must have it in writing. You are too slippery, viva voce. And please try to do it carefully, for a change.
R. Voilà!... I was ramble nude to the earth, and I will ramble nude underneath her. And why I dredge in vain, viewing the nude finish? So that is the state of your feelings. You seem to have forgotten to put your clothes on.