disagreeable method of teasing one another. It lasted for about a week,
just when the furze bushes were covered with burs. And while the fancy
lasted, the teasing was incessant. Everywhere—in the playground, at
study time, under Miss Porquet’s very eyes—handfuls of burs used to be
cast by anonymous hands, like harpoons by a whaler, on the innocent
heads of unsuspecting boys. The heads chosen were always those covered
with the thickest or curliest hair. And the victim would sometimes have
to pass an hour in grumbling and complaining, while he disentangled the
odious burs from his head; often pulling out handfuls of hair as he did
so. This trick was never played on me; that I was spared, I knew well I
owed to Marc.
------------------
XXVII.
PLANS FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
THE holidays drew near, and Marc and I formed the most delightful plans
for passing part of them together. It was arranged that I should pass a
week with him and his parents at their country house, Bois-Clair. This
was situated almost on the borders of the beautiful forest at Loches,
and at a short distance from the meadows watered by the river Indre. I
already knew something of Bois-Clair, for I had passed a happy
half-holiday there. But this time, only to think! what happiness! I was
to spend a whole week there.
[Illustration:Decoration]
And yet my joy was not entirely without alloy. For I thought of the
forest. We should of course go there to gather wild flowers and berries;
that would be delightful! But if we met with wolves, boars, robbers, or
snakes! Besides in a forest there would be sure to be thickets so
obscure, so dark and terrible, that it made me ill to think of them. It
is true we would fish in the little streams for cray-fish, that would be
very nice! but supposing the cray-fish were to pinch our fingers with
their claws! or supposing we found adders instead of cray-fish, or
perhaps frogs! horrid frogs which are so like toads! Yes, but we would
go to the banks of the river and fish for gudgeon. Ah! but suppose the
bank gave way—as really happened once to my father—and we should be
plunged in the Indre, which is over three feet deep quite in-shore.
Marc spoke of all these chances with a smile on his lips, and such
perfect confidence in all turning out well, that I began to feel
reassured. I began to think that courage was contagious. Not that I can
say that I was courageous, that I had courage myself—alas! far from it,
I knew I could not trust myself to be brave. But it seemed as if I
somehow so trusted in Marc that his courage did for both of us.
If I had dared to tell him how really frightened I was about many
things, he would have made me happy by telling me at once something I
only learnt by chance in conversation, and that was that François would
be with us wherever we went. François was his father’s servant: an old
soldier and a worthy man.
------------------
XXVIII.
THE PROSPECT OF GOING TO COLLEGE.
IN the distance, however, beyond this happy holiday-time, there loomed a
dark shadow: the time was drawing on when I should have to go to
college. Now certain traditions which I had heard at Miss Porquet’s
school represented the college as a sort of anticipation of the lower
regions; where, from morning to night, the small and weak suffered from
the tyranny of the strong. Amongst the _Porquets_ (for so the pupils of
Miss Porquet were called) those who were of an adventurous and daring
spirit, looked forward calmly, if not eagerly, to their college life—at
least so some of them said—and to prepare themselves for it, wore their
caps all on one side, and already talked the particular college slang.
Others less courageous, waited the fatal moment of their removal from
Miss Porquet’s care to the dangers of college life with fear and
trembling. I was of that number. Some of the timid young Porquets having
left the school, and actually, as it were, standing on the threshold of
the college, drew back when on the very edge of the precipice, and
obtained their parents’ consent to pass another year under the
protecting wing of the amiable Miss Porquet.
Marc was to go to college at the same time as I did. He was not one of
those who wore his cap on one side or who talked slang, and he did not
boast that he would knock down the first collegian who looked scornfully
at him. No, Marc was not that sort of boy at all: but on the other hand
he had no fears about his college life. This wonderful courage—as it
appeared to me—won my greatest admiration. As for him, it was only
natural, he thought, to be fearless. And we made our plans together as
follows:—
“We will go to college arm in arm,” Marc would say to me sometimes; “we
will never be rude or provoke anyone, then it is most likely that nobody
will provoke us. But if they touch us, well, we will defend ourselves,
that is all.”
------------------
XXIX.
AT BOIS-CLAIR.
THE holidays arrived, and Marc and I went off to Bois-Clair. Rare and
wonderful thing! that happy time, looked forward to, talked of, and
thought of, for so long, fully realised our expectations. We were as
happy and enjoyed ourselves in all respects as much, as we had ever
dreamed we should. What spirits we were in! We were intoxicated with the
splendid air, the freedom, and the constant exercise out-of-doors. We
were seldom in the house, for we were so occupied with our important
out-door affairs—fishing, gathering wild fruits and flowers, and getting
ourselves nearly lost in the grand forest. François was always with us,
and always in a good temper, when we went on any long expedition.
[Illustration: “I COULD NOT BEAR TO SEE A COW COMING UP TO ME.”]
I became quite enterprising, almost daring, and, except now and then
when certain fears assailed me, which however I did my best to conceal,
I began to think I was becoming a changed character. One of the
drawbacks, though, to my perfect happiness, while staying with Marc, was
the constant chance of meeting with cattle. I could not bear to see a
cow coming up to me. That was one of my fears. Another cause of trouble
was the chance of falling in with sheep-dogs; how I dreaded seeing a
flock of sheep grazing in a field, I knew the dogs would be with them,
and that if we walked near, they would be sure to come up to us.
And this they always did without fail, and what a moment of anxiety I
used to pass when these great, shaggy, dirty animals came running
towards us, barking as loudly as they could, staring at us with their
great bright eyes. Marc used to speak to them, and somehow he always
knew how to quiet them; for at the sound of his voice they would stop
barking, and walk off wagging their stumps of tails.
Still, when we had passed them I did not dare to look back for fear they
should be coming after us. It always seemed to me that one of them would
creep stealthily up behind and grip me. I seemed to feel, sometimes, as
if one of the dogs was only a foot behind me, and just about to spring,
and then, with a great fear on me, I would turn round suddenly to find,
of course, no dog there.
The poor beasts had not wasted another thought on us: they returned to
their flocks, after we passed, gently wagging their tails, and stopping
now and again to philosophize, with their noses examining a mole-hill.
The turkeys were creatures that I detested, and nothing was more
disagreeable to me than meeting them. I was very much afraid of them. I
can scarcely give an idea of the effect produced upon me by their little
black eyes, which always had an angry glare in them, their frightful
wrinkled heads, their great spread-out tails, and drooping wings; there
seemed to me to be something hideously unnatural always about the
turkeys, and when they advanced towards me, with their ruffled feathers,
they appeared to me like some monstrous stuffed beasts, that went on
wheels, not living birds walking about. Marc did not seem to notice
them, and I never told anyone the dread I had of those turkeys; but when
they came near I shrank into a corner, and scarcely breathed until they
had passed.
The pigs, too, troubled me not a little. I would willingly have walked a
good distance out of my way to avoid passing through the copse where
they were turned out. I distrusted their squinting little eyes, which
appeared so full of deceit and malice; and I hated the familiarity with
which they came up to smell us, simply because they, like us, belonged
to the house. I remembered on these occasions all sorts of terrible
tales of children having been devoured by pigs. But the coolness and
confidence of Marc, in all times of apparent danger, in a little while
reassured me.
Little by little—seeing that I was neither bitten, tossed, pecked, nor
devoured—I became accustomed to all the objects which at first caused me
so much terror. It is true I did not go in search of them, but I did not
fly from them, as I began by doing.
------------------
XXX.
ULYSSES MAKES HIS APPEARANCE.
THE day before that on which we were to return to Loches, Marc and I
went on to one of the terraces which overlooked the road, to shoot our
bows and arrows. All of a sudden Marc cried out, “Hollo! here’s Ulysses!
what does he come for, I wonder?”
Ulysses was one of the gendarmes belonging to the brigade at Loches. I
was leaning on the railing: Ulysses came up to us at a hard gallop.
“Hollo! Ulysses, how d’ye do?” cried Marc.
Ulysses raised his head, looked at us, and nodded. “Is your papa at
home?” he asked Marc.
“Yes,” answered Marc, “he is.”
Off went the gendarme at a trot, and in another minute we saw him turn
to the left and enter the great gate of the courtyard of Bois-Clair.
When he turned to leave us I noticed that he carried a small yellow
leather bag at his back. I watched it jumping up and down as the horse
trotted. Ah! if I had only known what that little yellow bag contained!
[Illustration:Decoration]
François soon came out to tell us that luncheon was ready. When we
entered the courtyard we saw the gendarme’s horse tied to one of the
chestnut trees. The flies were tormenting him; he kept shaking his head,
and giving tremendous kicks with his great iron-shod feet. As we passed
him he was frightened, and started, making a tremendous clatter. Off I
ran. As I passed the kitchen window, I saw Ulysses at table having
dinner.
At luncheon Mr. and Mrs. Sublaine both seemed much pre-occupied; every
now and then they spoke together in a low tone of voice. After luncheon
Ulysses came into the room, and then Mr. Sublaine told him he should
“start to-night instead of to-morrow.”
I looked at Marc with surprise, and I saw, by the expression of his
face, that he was as much astonished as myself.
As we were leaving the dining-room Mrs. Sublaine told us to make our
little arrangements in the way of packing, and so on, for that we were
going to leave Bois-Clair that evening. She did not tell us why, but
returned to talk to Mr. Sublaine. We were back again at Loches at eight
o’clock that night.
------------------
XXXI.
SAD NEWS FOR ME.
THE next day Marc came to see me, and told me that his father was going
to Orleans. This news distressed me, I scarcely knew why. I had a
presentiment that something terrible would follow. I had seen at
Bois-Clair a large letter with a red seal, which laid beside Mr.
Sublaine’s plate at luncheon. No doubt this had been brought by the
gendarme in his little yellow bag. It was owing to that letter, with the
red seal, that we had returned to Loches, sooner than was intended. This
I felt quite sure of: and also that the same letter caused Mr. Sublaine
to hurry off to Orleans. What would come next?
Alas! my fears were but too well founded. The day but one following,
when I went to play with Marc, he told me that his father was appointed
to a higher post under government at Orleans.
As Marc told me this, he looked very sad. When he told me, I could
scarcely speak. I remember I only answered, “Ah!” It must have seemed
very stupid, but I am sure he saw how grieved I was, for he did all he
could to comfort me.
Marc’s parents were only to go at the beginning of October, so there was
still a little time for us to be together, but I only seemed to suffer
more in consequence. Each time I saw Marc, my heart seemed to swell with
pain at the thought of our parting. I was miserable! how I loved him! he
had been so good to me! how handsome he was! alas! should I lose sight
of that good, kind face, perhaps for ever!
He tried his best to console me, he promised that he would often write
to me, and talked of holidays yet to come that we would pass together at
Bois-Clair: and then the blow was struck.
------------------
XXXII.
I GO TO COLLEGE.—A PUPIL CALLED BORNIQUET.
ON Saturday the third of October, Marc, and the rest of his family went
to Orleans. Sunday I spent in tears, and on Monday my father took me to
college.
The way to the college was through a very long street, called Pont
Street. That Monday was very cold, I remember; an autumnal fog came up
from the meadows near and seemed to creep into my bones, and I trembled
in every limb.
At every step we met college boys of all ages, who were loitering along
in the same direction we were going. They called to one another from a
distance, and formed into different groups, from several of which I
heard chance words escaping, in which very clear allusions were made to
a new boy who had “a fine big nose of his own.”
Once within the college grounds the boys prepared to enter school,
separating into their different classes. After wandering about for some
time, uncertain where to go, I found myself in the middle of a group of
boys which opened, with apparent good nature, to let me join them, and
then closed round me. Once in the crowd I discovered that the object of
each boy seemed to be to push his neighbour down; three times did I
advance with the rest to the school door, and each time I was pushed
away from it and knocked up against the wall. The fourth attempt was
more successful, I was lifted off my legs and borne with the crowd into
school, where, half crushed and quite out of breath, I managed to
stumble on to one of the nearest benches.
As I took my school-books one by one out of my satchel, my neighbour
jogged my elbow, and so threw them down; and the professor, looking
sternly at me, begged that I would not “make so much noise.”
He asked the names of all the pupils, and made me repeat mine very
carefully.
“Write an exercise!” said he at last.
Just as I plunged my pen into the inkstand and brought it out—certainly
rather too full of ink—a neighbour who was watching me, gave my elbow
another jog, and calculated the effect so well, that the contents of the
pen were shot all over the clean white collar of one of the smaller
boys, a little red-headed fellow, who turned round to me in a fury. I
tried to explain how the misfortune occurred, the professor was very
angry, and I made myself as small as possible.
The exercise over, the professor proceeded to question us, that is, to
question the new pupils.
“Borniquet!” said he, “stand up.”
Borniquet did not move. The boys looked at one another with surprise and
began whispering, the professor a second time ordered the pupil named
Borniquet to rise. Strange to say, Borniquet made no sign: this time
there was a regular murmur of surprise among the pupils; the professor
became red with indignation. I trembled at the bare idea of the terrible
punishment that awaited the luckless Borniquet; I would not have been in
his place for something.
“I desire you to stand up, Borniquet!” cried the professor, turning to
the right,—just where I was. I looked now at the boys on each side of me
with great curiosity; it must be one of them, thought I.
“But you, you, you!” cried the professor again, pointing his finger
right in my direction. I turned round and looked behind me. Where was
Borniquet? The whole class now burst out laughing.
“You, the third boy on the second bench!” cried the professor, now quite
losing patience.
The third boy on the second bench was me. The boys near me said, “Get
up! get up!” As there was certainly some mistake somewhere, I still
hesitated, when I felt a sudden and violent push, which came from I knew
not where, and I was on my legs. I looked at the professor, feeling very
foolish.
He was a worthy man: thinking he had a very stupid and nervous pupil
before him he questioned me in a kind, gentle tone to encourage me.
Presently he stooped over his desk, and then looked up quite surprised.
“But, I see,” cried he, “that there is no pupil of the name of Borniquet
on the list! Why what is your name?”
“Bicquerot,” I said.
He tapped his forehead and declared that he had made a slip of the
tongue. “That might happen to any one,” he remarked, turning towards the
laughing boys.
But it was a curious thing that he should have made the mistake in the
name so many times. His tongue had a strange way of slipping. During the
whole year I was called by the two names, and had to answer sometimes to
Borniquet, sometimes to Bicquerot. And naturally my schoolfellows
preferred calling me by my wrong name Borniquet.
------------------
XXXIII.
MY NOSE STILL TROUBLES ME.
A CURLY headed little boy, with eyes sparkling with malice, and a tiny
turned-up nose, came close up to me and said: “Don’t you intend to give
it back to me?”
“What do you mean?” I asked in surprise.
“You know very well,” he answered, looking more impertinent than ever.
“But I assure you I do not,” replied I.
“My nose; you know you have taken my share as well as your own, and it’s
very nasty of you,” said this disagreeable child.
I reddened and turned away from him. The boy on the other side of me
seized the opportunity of my turning towards him, to say: “My little
Borniquet.”
“Not Borniquet but Bicquerot!” I corrected.
“Ah, that’s true,” he went on. “But, my little Borniquet, tell me, what
is it made of?”
I guessed that he alluded to my nose, and I shrugged my shoulders.
[Illustration:Decoration]
“He has a false nose,” said my interlocutor in a voice loud enough for
nearly everyone to hear, “and he won’t tell me if it is made of
paste-board!”
All the boys near us began to laugh, and presently the whole class
joined in the hilarity: never had an unfortunate nose become so popular
so quickly.
All sorts of jokes were made about my luckless nose. Little pieces of
paper were sent round with witty and unpleasant allusions to my
prominent feature. A future caricaturist gained great applause by making
a sketch representing the pupil Borniquet dressed as an acrobat beating
a drum, and suspended from the trapeze by his monstrous nose.
The least reference made to _any_ nose instantly attracted every eye to
mine, and sent the class off into roars of laughter.
What a beginning to my college life! I said to myself over and over
again, If Marc had but not left me, all this would never have happened.
------------------
XXXIV.
“AZOR! AZOR!”
WHEN school was over I made up my mind that I would slip quietly out of
the college gates, and making my escape, run home as fast as my legs
could carry me. Unfortunately I did not succeed in doing this. In the
playground I had to pass several boys who were collected together in
groups before they went home. I blush to acknowledge that one of these
boys—quite a little fellow too—planted himself resolutely in front of me
and prevented me from passing him. After standing so for a second he
suddenly seized me by the nose and pulled it till I cried out.
“Knock him down, he has insulted you,” cried out a boy noted for his
love of fighting.
I looked at him, feeling stupid and uncertain what to do: he turned away
in disgust, shrugging his shoulders.
I succeeded, however, in making my way out of college. To my great
astonishment all the boys whom I passed, whether of my own class or not,
seemed determined to call me “Azor.” “Here, here, Azor,” they cried.
“Hi, hi, Azor, where is that dog Azor? Oh, here he is, and muzzled! He
does not bite, not he. Get out, Azor!” These were the cries that greeted
me on every side. Why should they call me by that name, which in France
is commonly given to a dog only?
Here and there, in Pont-street, stood groups of college boys: as soon as
I passed one of these clusters, the boys all burst out laughing and
called after me, “Azor! Azor!”
Confused and frightened, I ran past houses and people and soon got ahead
of the most advanced of the college boys. When I got in front of the
Hospital, I saw two old men breathing a little fresh air at the door; as
I passed them, one gave the other a slap on the back and cried out,
“Hullo, look at Azor!” and I heard them bursting out into peals of
laughter.
At the corner of one of the streets I had to pass by, there was a large
grocer’s shop; one of the shop-boys was standing close to the pavement
grinding coffee. As soon as I passed, the coffee-mill stopped and I
heard the boy calling to the others, inside the shop, to come and look
at “Azor!”
[Illustration: “HULLO, LOOK AT AZOR!”]
The work people, coming out of the manufactory to their dinners, began
to bark at me, and hiss as if they were setting two dogs to fight.
At last, to my joy, I saw our house: I was safe! But no, not yet: my
hands trembled so that I could not turn the handle of the door: my
nervous stamping attracted the attention of a painter who was painting a
signboard in front of a restaurant near. The moment he saw me, he left
off whistling a popular air, and, coming towards me, held his
paint-brush horizontally about two feet from the ground, and promised
“Azor, good Azor,” a piece of sugar if he would jump over it nicely.
I rushed into the house and threw myself upon a chair, panting for
breath.
------------------
XXXV.
THE THEORY OF SELF-DEFENCE.
“HAS anyone hurt you?” anxiously inquired my mother.
I shook my head.
“What has happened, then, my poor boy?” asked she.
Then I burst out, in a voice of despair, with the history of all my
wrongs. I declared that I would _never_, _never_, go inside the college
doors again! I must be sent back to Miss Porquet. That if I was not sent
back there——
Here my father’s voice cut my passionate words short, and put a stop to
my rage. I began to cry. My father looked at me and shrugged his
shoulders.
When I told him of all my troubles, he replied, “Oh, is that all? When I
was a boy, things were much worse than that. You must return laugh for
laugh; and when anyone touches you, fall upon them and give it to them
well. It should be a case of, ‘You pinch me, I pinch you back; you throw
a pen full of ink at me, I throw my inkstand at you; you pull my nose, I
pull your ears; you call me Azor, I call you Médor; and there we are
quits! You run after me to frighten me, I throw my leg out, and you
tumble over it into the mud.’ That’s the way to manage, my little Paul,
with schoolboys; you do that, and you need no longer be afraid; and you
can then laugh at them in your turn. Ah! if it had been me!”
Then he took my hand, and doubled it to feel my fist, and said: “Now,
look at that; that is a fist like any other boy’s; even stronger and
harder than many of your age and size have. Now I have told you before
how easy it is to use it: you raise your arm like this, clenching your
fist tightly; draw your wrist well back to your shoulder, and then
strike out straight and hard. There you are, my son, that is all you
have to do. Your adversary will be on his back most likely; then you
must help him to get up, and to dust himself, shake hands with him, and
it’s all over. Now see, my little man, how easy it is; will you not
try?”
I replied, “Yes, papa;” but in such a piteous tone of voice, that my
father could not help making a face at me. He then began walking up and
down the room; and as he passed behind me, he suddenly cried out, “But
what in the world have you got on your back?”
I shuddered. What could it be? Most likely some creeping thing; perhaps
a caterpillar! But it was not; for my father now took from my back a
placard, on which was written—“_My name is Azor!_” Those horrid boys had
gummed it there!
My mother was most indignant at what she considered a great insult. The
idea of giving me the name of a dog!
“An insult!” cried my father; “on the contrary, I consider it a
compliment. For my part, I would much rather be a dog than a frog or a
hare. A dog, at least, shows his teeth and bites. At any rate, in my
time, dogs knew how to bite; but perhaps that is changed now, as so many
other things are.” He frowned as he looked at the placard again, and
muttered between his teeth, “Ah! if I had been in Azor’s place to-day,
my friends, you should have discovered that he could show his teeth!”
------------------
XXXVI.
STILL A COWARD.