“You go and see now. It’s only the ragamuffins who leave for the army. Any one who has anything stays in the country here.”
“The man who is born wretched stays wretched, and there you are.”
“I say, is it true what they say, that the other is dead?” put in the third mason.
“Oh well, it’s the ‘big men’ who say that, you see. The other one made them afraid.”
“What a difference. How the fortification went ahead in his time. And to think of his being betrayed by his own marshals.”
This conversation consoled Julien a little. As he went away, he repeated with a sigh:
“Le seul roi dont le peuple a gardé la mémoire.”
The time for the examination arrived. Julien answered brilliantly. He saw that Chazel endeavoured to exhibit all his knowledge. On the first day the examiners, nominated by the famous Grand Vicar de Frilair, were very irritated at always having to put first, or at any rate second, on their list, that Julien Sorel, who had been designated to them as the Benjamin of the Abbé Pirard. There were bets in the seminary that Julien would come out first in the final list of the examination, a privilege which carried with it the honour of dining with my Lord Bishop. But at the end of a sitting, dealing with the fathers of the Church, an adroit examiner, having first interrogated Julien on Saint Jerome and his passion for Cicero, went on to speak about Horace, Virgil and other profane authors. Julien had learnt by heart a great number of passages from these authors without his comrades’ knowledge. Swept away by his successes, he forgot the place where he was, and recited in paraphrase with spirit several odes of Horace at the repeated request of the examiner. Having for twenty minutes given him enough rope to hang himself, the examiner changed his expression, and bitterly reproached him for the time he had wasted on these profane studies, and the useless or criminal ideas which he had got into his head.
“I am a fool, sir. You are right,” said Julien modestly, realising the adroit stratagem of which he was the victim.
This examiner’s dodge was considered dirty, even at the seminary, but this did not prevent the abbé de Frilair, that adroit individual who had so cleverly organised the machinery of the Besançon congregation, and whose despatches to Paris put fear into the hearts of judges, prefect, and even the generals of the garrison, from placing with his powerful hand the number 198 against Julien’s name. He enjoyed subjecting his enemy, Pirard the Jansenist, to this mortification.