A Romance of Youth -- Complete
nate tree was the poor sycamore which grew in the playground of an instit
e, where it could have had the pleasure of listening twice a week to military music. But, no! it was written in the book of fate that this unlucky sycamore should lose its bark every summer,
u baccalaureat et aux ecoles de l'Etat), one read these fallacious words, "There is a garden;" when in reality it was only a vulgar court graveled with stones from the river, with a paved gutter in which one could gather half a dozen of lost marbles, a broken top, and a certain number
d by a prison wall, bristling with the glass of broken bottles, and by three buildings of distressing similarity, showing, above the numerous doors on the ground fl
the sight of two or three pupils who were punished by being made to stand at the foot of its trunk. Parisian birds, who are not fastidious, rarely lighted upon the tree, and never built their ne
ed under an unlucky star, the greate
they were intellectual; such as yawning, filing his nails, talking about his chiefs, groaning over the slowness of promotion, cooking a potato or a sausage in the stove for his luncheon, reading the newspaper down to the editor's signature, and advertisements in which
ome and get them, all going together with a merry tick. It may be questioned whether a trade as low as this would have been fitting for a young man of education, a Bachelor of Arts, crammed with Greek roots and quotations, able to prove the existence of God, and to recite without hesitation the dates of the reigns of Nabonassar and of Nabopolassar. This watch-maker, this simple artisan, understood modern genius better. This modest shopkeeper acted according to the democratic law and followed the instinct of a noble and wise ambition. He made of his son-a sensible and intelligent boy-a machine to c
le son. His neighbors, the Gerards, were very kind to Amedee, and continued to keep him with them all the afternoon. Thi
ren. What a magnificent plaything it was, and how well calculated to excite their imagination! It was immediately transformed in their minds into a frightfully large and ferocious bear, which they chased through the apartment, lying in wait for it behind armchairs, striking at it with sticks, and puffing out their little cheeks with all their might to say "Boum!" imitating the rep
ssure you, he does not disturb us in the least. Wait a little before you send him to school. He is very quiet, and if Maria did not excite him so-upon my word, she is more of a boy than he-your Amedee would always b
o steps' distance. This will not prevent little Amedee from seeing his friends often. He is nearly seven years old, and very b
. Violette was ushered into M. Batifol's office
on the quays by the running yard; for example, Laharpe's Cours de Litterature, and an endless edition of Rollin, whose tediousness seems to ooze out through their bindings. The
ore in the yard. A young blackbird, who did not know the place
y the tree
is charming. Children are there, making mud-pies, nurses upon the seats chatterin
oor opened and M. Batifol appeared. The master of the school had a severe aspect, in spite of his almost indecorous name. He resembled a hippopotamus clothed in an ample black coat. He entered slowly and bowed in a dignified way to M. V
was even upon M. Batifol's cranium an eruption of little red pimpl
r, in an unctuous voice, an excellent voice for
fol was not calculated to give him assurance. Amedee was timid, too, like his father, and while the child, frightened by the resemblance of the sphere to M. Batifol's bald head, was already trembling, M. Violette, much agitated,
serving and judging his visitors. The father's scanty overcoat, the rather pale face of the little boy, all betokened poverty. It simply meant a da
, with a healthful and abundant repast at noon. But M. Batifol did not insist upon it. His young friend would then be placed in the infant class, at first; but he would be prepared there at once, 'ab ovo', one day to receive lessons in this University of France, 'alma parens' (instruction in
francs, and for a good reason. The affair was settled. Early
nd," said the master, as father a
, and cold that the child shivered at the contact, and fancied he was touching a leg
snuff-taker had put a little bottle of red wine, and some sliced veal, and jam tarts, presented h
hed to assure himself if the degrees of latitude and longitude were checked off in squares on M. Batifol's cranium
he been living like his late father, a sergeant of the gendarmes, in a pretty house surrounded by apple trees and green grass, would not, perhaps, have had that 'papier-mache' appearance, and would not have be
seat there, in the third row," said
or social life-several with patches upon their trousers-had been naughty enough to bring into class a handful of cockchafers. He was
hispered the pupil in disgrace; as soon
his chair, and, having reestablished silenc
ne single stream, like a running tap, recited, without stopping to take breath, "The Wolf
e-will-prove-it-at-once, a-lamb-was-quenching-
itated. The machine had been badly o
pure-running-wat
id not know his lesson, and he, too, was condemned
babbled with the same intelligence and volubility, with the same piping voice, this cruel and wonderful fable. It was as irritating and monotono
! He never would be able. M. Tavernier frightened him very much, too. The yellow-complexioned usher, seated nonchalantly in his armchair, was not without pretension; in s
ten years old, pointing out his letters to him in a picture alphabet with a knitting-needle, always so patient and kind. The child was overcome at the very fi
Romance
Short stories
Romance
Romance
Romance
Romance