The Ink-Stain, Complete

10

s knew he was obstinate, capable alike of guile and daring, b

, and swore to drag me off, 'per fas et nefas'. He has mentally begun a new action-Mouillard v. Mouillard, and is a

e bent. I pref

I have just seen him to t

, I may say, swaggering, as he does over his learned fr

, nep

l, u

some new

dee

his hat down furio

when anything does not

erret

hed, or was she not? To what extent had she encouraged your attentions? You never would have told me the story co

did t

inly I

n to see Mons

, I was not sorry to make the acquaintance of a member of the Institute.

ou tol

d a bit, just a moment, and recalled your appearance:

all his de

from your unpardonable neglect of your duties to your family, and that I hurried hither from Bourges to take in the situation. With that I concluded, and waited for him to develop. There are occasions when you must let people develop. I could not jump down his throat with, 'Sir, would you kindly tell me whether your daughter is betrothed or not?' You follow me? He thought, no doubt, I had come to ask for his daughter's hand, and passing one hand over his forehead, he replied, 'Sir, I feel greatly flattered by your proposal, and I should certainly give it my serious attention, were it not that my daughter's hand is already sought by the son of an old schoolfellow of mine, which circumstance, as you will readily understand, does not p

nt, and my habitual respect for M. Mouillard were struggling for the master

had not made up my

are c

you have revealed a passion which, as it was hopeless, should not have been further mentioned, and certainly not exposed to such humiliation. You went to see Monsieur Charnot without reflecting whether you were not bringing trouble into his household; without reflecting, further, whether such conduct as yours, which may perhaps be

young man, is it? You refuse

es

one. You know the amount of your fortune-fourteen h

, I

th of your fads and your fancies. If you do not take up your quarters at Bourges within a fortnight from now, the Mouillard practice will change its name within three weeks!" My uncle sniffed with emo

hing to ask you, M

d fool me again? No, a hundred times no! I've h

do not ask f

for I should refuse i

not present at the interview, that she heard

n the table, bundled them up, flung them passionately into his hat, cl

ut, at the sixth step, just before turning the corner, he raised his stick, gave

nati

20

contrary, I feel relieved of a heavy weight, pleased to be free, to have no profession. I feel the thrill of pleasure that a fugitive from justice feels on clearing the frontier. Perhaps I was meant for a different course of life than the one I was forced to follow. As a child I was brought

s up the nobler virtues more quickly than a practice at the bar. Generosity, enthusiasm, sensibility, true and ready sympathy-all are taken, leaving the man, in many instances nothing but a sk

od in spite of evil, his belief in poetry in spite of prose, his unspoiled capacity for receiving new impressions and illusions-a capacity which, amid the crowds that gro

lunge into the unknown. My time is all my own,

he is pleased, I can see, at a resolve which keep

on," he said; "harder to find another i

n't k

g to luck. At sixteen that might be per

. If I have to live on little-well, you've tried

like influenza, which does not leave its victims all at once; but it is hard

o one can do with

mpron's silence is the only argument which struggles in my heart in favor o