After my ninth birthday my parents, for a time, spoke of putting me into
boarding-school, so that I might become habituated to the harder ways
of life, and since the matter was talked over by all the members of the
family, I went about for several days feeling as if I were on the eve
of being sent to prison, for I imagined that a boarding-school had high
walls and windows guarded by iron bars.
But, upon reflection, they considered that I was too frail and delicate
a human plant to be thrown in contact with those others of my kind
who, in all probability, would play roughly, and have bad manners; they
concluded, therefore, to keep me at home a little longer.
At any rate I was delivered from “Mr. Ratin.” The old professor, rotund
of figure and kind of manner, who succeeded him, was less distasteful to
me, but I made just as little progress under his care. In the afternoon,
at about the time for his arrival, I would hastily begin to prepare my
lessons. I was then usually to be found at my window, hidden behind the
venetian blinds, with my book open at the page containing the lesson;
and when I saw him come into view at the turning near the bottom of the
street I commenced to study it.
And generally by the time he arrived I knew enough to receive, if not to
merit, a “pretty good,” a mark over which I did not grumble.
I had also my English professor who came to me every morning,--and
whom I nicknamed Aristogiton (I do not now recall why). Following the
Robertson method, he had me paraphrase the history of Sultan Mahmoud.
Outside of that, the only thing that I am sure of is that I accomplished
nothing, absolutely nothing, less than nothing; but he had the
good taste not to growl at me, and in consequence I have an almost
affectionate remembrance of him.
During the extreme heat of the summer days it was my custom to study in
the yard; I took my ink-stained copy and lesson books and spread them
upon a table that stood in the summer house made shady by the vines and
honeysuckles that grew over it. And when I was nicely settled there
I felt that I might idle to my heart's content. From behind the
lattice-work, green with trellised vines, I kept a lookout in order
to see any danger that threatened in the distance. . . . I was always
careful to bring with me to this retreat a quantity of cherries and
grapes, whichever happened to be in season, and truly I could have
passed there hours of the most delicious reverie but for the remorse
that tormented me almost every moment, a remorse born of the fact that I
was not busying myself with my lessons.
Through the foliage I saw, close to me, the cool-looking pond with its
tiny grottoes which, since my brother's departure, I almost worshipped.
The little fountain in the centre stirred the waters and made the
sunlight that fell on its surface dance joyously; and the sun's rays
pierced the green verdure surrounding me--I seemed to be in the midst of
luminous water that quivered all about me with a ceaseless motion.
My arbor was a shady little retreat that gave me a complete illusion of
country; from the far side of the old wall came the song of the tropical
birds belonging to Antoinette's mother, and I heard the rollicking
warble and twitter of the swallows perched on the house-top, and the
chirp of the common sparrows as they flew about among the trees in the
garden.
Sometimes I would throw myself face-upward full length upon the green
bench that was there, and through the tasselled honeysuckle I had a view
of the white clouds as they sailed across the blue of the sky. There,
too, I was initiated into the habits of the mosquitos who all day long
poised themselves tremblingly, by means of their long legs, upon the
leaves. And often I concentrated all my attention upon the old wall
where the insects acted out their tragical drama: the cunning spider
would come suddenly from his nook and ensnare in his web the heedless
little insects,--with the aid of a straw, I was usually able to deliver
them from their peril.
I have forgotten to mention that I had, for companion, an old cat called
Suprematie, who had been my faithful and beloved friend since infancy.
Suprematie knew at what hour he would find me there, and he used to slip
in quietly upon the tips of his velvet paws; he never stretched himself
beside me without first looking at me questioningly.
The poor creature was very homely; he was marked queerly upon only one
side of his body; moreover, in a cruel accident he had twisted his
tail, and it hung down at a right angle. He was the subject of Lucette's
continual mockery, for she had a lovely Angora cat that had usurped
Suprematie's place in her affections. It was my habit to run out to see
her when she came to inquire after the members of my family; she rarely
failed to add, with a funny air of concern, which made me burst out
laughing in spite of myself: “And your horror of a cat, is he in good
health, my dear?”