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The father's scanty overcoat, the rather pale face of the little boy, all betokened poverty. It simply meant a day scholar at thirty francs a month, nothing more. So M. Batifol shortened the "speech" that under like circumstances he addressed to his new pupils.
Now he had entered the sixth grade, under M. Bance, an unfortunate fellow about twenty years old, ugly, lame, and foolishly timid, whom M. Batifol reproached severely with not having made himself respected, and whose eyes filled with tears every morning when, upon entering the schoolroom, he was obliged to efface with a cloth a caricature of himself made by some of his pupils.
M. Tavernier received the newcomer with a sickly smile, which disappeared as soon as M. Batifol left the room. "Go and take your place in that empty seat there, in the third row," said M. Tavernier, in an indifferent tone. He deigned, however, to conduct Amedee to the seat which he was to occupy.
A genuinely unfortunate tree was the poor sycamore which grew in the playground of an institution for boys on the Rue de la Grande-Chaumiere, directed by M. Batifol.
Certain fathers prefer, and they have reason to do so, that their sons should be half-boarders, with a healthful and abundant repast at noon. But M. Batifol did not insist upon it. M. Violette contented himself with the day school at thirty francs, and for a good reason. The affair was settled. Early the next morning Amedee would enter the "ninth preparatory."
The father's scanty overcoat, the rather pale face of the little boy, all betokened poverty. It simply meant a day scholar at thirty francs a month, nothing more. So M. Batifol shortened the "speech" that under like circumstances he addressed to his new pupils.
M. Violette knew all this; nevertheless it was important that Amedee should not be forgotten by his old relative, and sometimes, though rarely, he would leave his office a little earlier than usual, call for his son as he left the Batifol boarding-school, and take him to the Rue Servandoni.
M. Tavernier received the newcomer with a sickly smile, which disappeared as soon as M. Batifol left the room. "Go and take your place in that empty seat there, in the third row," said M. Tavernier, in an indifferent tone. He deigned, however, to conduct Amedee to the seat which he was to occupy.
Now he had entered the sixth grade, under M. Bance, an unfortunate fellow about twenty years old, ugly, lame, and foolishly timid, whom M. Batifol reproached severely with not having made himself respected, and whose eyes filled with tears every morning when, upon entering the schoolroom, he was obliged to efface with a cloth a caricature of himself made by some of his pupils.
M. Tavernier received the newcomer with a sickly smile, which disappeared as soon as M. Batifol left the room. "Go and take your place in that empty seat there, in the third row," said M. Tavernier, in an indifferent tone. He deigned, however, to conduct Amedee to the seat which he was to occupy.