I felt, without exactly defining it, a slight contempt for these pitiless judges. Since then I have very often thought of that trial of mine, and I have come to the conclusion that individuals who are kind, intelligent, and compassionate become less estimable when they are together. The feeling of personal irresponsibility arouses their evil instincts, and the fear of ridicule chases away their good ones.
When I had recovered my will power I began my fable again, determined not to mind what happened. My voice was more liquid on account of the emotion, and the desire to make myself heard caused it to be more resonant.
There was silence, and before I had finished my fable the little bell rang. I bowed and came down the few steps from the platform, thoroughly exhausted. M. Auber stopped me as I was passing by the table.
“Well, little girl,” he said, “that was very good indeed. M. Provost and M. Beauvallet both want you in their class.”
I recoiled slightly when he told me which was M. Beauvallet, for he was the “ventriloquist” who had given me such a fright.
“Well, which of these two gentlemen should you prefer?” he asked.
I did not utter a word, but pointed to M. Provost.
“That’s all right. Get your handkerchief out, my poor Beauvallet, and I shall entrust this child to you, my dear Provost.”
I understood, and, wild with joy, I exclaimed, “Then I have passed?”
“Yes, you have passed; and there is only one thing I regret, and that is that such a pretty voice should not be for music.”