The Ink-Stain, Complete

P.

re that I shall go to his publisher's and find out something a

mber

the Rue de l

I owe this to an accident, to th

eneath the lamplight to amuse his daughter-he a member of the Institute, she a

paper-weights, paper-knives, pens, and inkstands of "artistic" pat terns. He was seated at the table, with his back to the fire, his arm lifted, and a hairpin between his finger and thumb-the pivot round which his paper twist was spinning brisk

arnot at that moment was extremely unlike the M. C

eft long to

n. To compare small things with great, Diana must have worn something of that look at sight of Actaeon. M. Charnot did not rise, but hearing somebod

presence of this reader of the Ea

n, "I owe you

me. The girl

not take long. This gentleman

a cruel b

drew discreetly into a dim corner, nea

lumsily, in equilibrium-unstable equilibrium-besides, I had no notion there was a reader

stupid, that as a matter of fact I became stupid. And then, there was no answer-not a word. Silence, alas! is not the reproof of kings alone. It does pretty

from my em

e also to ask for a p

your serv

as probably written

ama

hree da

ed no letter;

fat

has promised to write a letter and has not written it.

t to take my do

ar

I have a bachelor

up with a degree in

lly,

lecting these things? You have,

ave bee

clination-hey? t

, y

heart leaning toward letters; the Digest open on the ta

lanced toward

oungsters have no longer any mind of your own. Take my case; I was seventeen when I began to take an interest in numismatics. My family destined me for the Stamp Office; yes, sir, th

green cloth. But she had a secret object-to regain possession of the paper spiral that lay there neglected, its pin sticking up beside the lamp-stand. Her light hand, hovering hith

rrupted this li

rettily, with a sli

everybody can be

method of inking parchment that never will make him my colleague. Doctor

me, an a

ilies it is a standing dilemma; if not a notary, t

with an exasper

ny rate to hold my tongue and not to answer the gibes of this vindictive man

Not everybody can belong to the Institute, as your daughter remarked; not everybody can afford

Not a bit of it. M. Charnot smiled out

ou are given to gossipin

sir, now

ing to look at, but not the right thing. Twenty-seven copies of a book, when read by twenty-seven men of intelligence, outweigh a popular success. Would you believe that one of my friends

ifted chin and reddened cheek she shot this sentence

ings as 'successes

rk, to make me feel that I was a brute, an idiot, hopelessly lost in the opinion of M. Charnot and his

f tones, "I do not think we have yet disc

sir, to trespass f

at. Your quest

of the Lati

f dress. Have you read the work, in sevente

N

ny rate, Smith, the Engli

her. I only k

'Thesaurus Morellianus', or the 'Praestantiora Numismata', of Vallian

u, thank

me to t

nding motionless still, with the face of an angry Dia

yself in

stood up for me; she had said to her father, "Not every one can be in the Institute," evidently meaning, "Why are you torturing this poor young man? He is bashful and ill at ease. I feel sorry for him." Sorry-ye

a fugitive apparition in my path of life; yet her anger lies hea

. I needed something to divert me, to distract me, to make me forget, and so I

along through the mist. The river is running in waves, white-capped here and there. On the penny steamers no one but the helmsman is visible. But what a crowd on the Pont de Carrousel! Fur cuffs and collars pass and repass on the pavements; the roadway trembles beneath the endless line of Batignolles-Clichy omnibuses and other vehicles. Every one seems in a hurry. The pedestrians are brisk, the drivers dexterous.

ettled his position, his career, his dream of commonplace well-being. They are all alike; and they might all be judges, so serious they appear about it. They walk in pairs, bolt upright, lo

heir way to dine

one sees many odd customers. Farewell, river! Good ni