Yesterday evening I returned to Stephane by the dormer window and
the lofts; the journey took me but twenty minutes. There was a
slight wind, and I was glad to have nothing to do with the iron
corbel. Arriving at ten o'clock I returned half an hour after
midnight. On leaving the young man, I felt terrified and overjoyed
at the same time,--frightened at the impulsive ardor of his
temperament and at the efforts it will cost me to moderate his
impetuosity; but overjoyed, astonished at the quickness and grasp
of his mind, at his vivid imagination, and the truly Slavonian
flexibility of his naturally happy disposition. It is certain that
the sad and barren existence he has led for years would have
shattered the energies of a soul less finely tempered than his; the
vigor and elasticity of his temperament have saved him. But I
arrived just in time, for he confessed to me that the idea of
suicide had taken possession of him since that unlucky escapade
punished by fifteen hours' imprisonment.
"My first attempt was unfortunate," said he, "but I was resolved to
try again; I had sounded the ford; another time I should have
crossed the stream."
I hastened to turn the conversation, especially as he was not in
the humor to weary himself with such a gloomy subject. How happy
he appeared to see me again; how his joy expressed itself upon his
ingenuous face, and how speaking were his looks! We occupied
ourselves at first with the language of signs. Nothing escaped his
eager intellect; he complained only of my slow explanations.
"I understand, I understand," he would cry; "something else, my
dear sir, something else, I'm not a fool."
I certainly had no idea of such quickness of apprehension. "The
Slavonians learn quickly," said I, "and forget quickly too."
To prove the contrary, he answered me by signs:
"You are an impertinent fellow."