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Blaise Pascal, mathematician, theologian, and one of the greatest writers of French prose, was born on June 19, 1623, at Clermont-Ferrand, and died on August 19, 1662. His mother died in his fourth year, and the father, an eminent lawyer, took the boy with his two sisters to Paris. Pascal showed the most astonishing mathematical genius; he produced at the age of seventeen a profound work on conic sections, and devoted the following years to physical researches and to investigations in the higher mathematics. In 1654, Pascal, having experienced a remarkable vision, which he recorded on a parchment known as his "amulet," renounced the world and entered on the ascetic life, in close relations with the Jansenist community. Hence, in the interests of Arnauld, the Jansenist leader, Pascal issued the famous "Letters Written to a Provincial" ("Lettres Écrites par Louis de Montalte
"Whereabouts is this circus?" she asked suddenly. I told her, waving a hand in the direction of Clermont-Ferrand. "How far?" "About two or three miles." "I'll go there this evening," she announced calmly. "What?" I nearly jumped off the wooden bench. "My dear Auriol," said I, "my heart's dicky. You oughtn't to spring things like that on me." "I don't see where the shock comes in.
"The thunder last night, perhaps." He nodded. "Women have nerves." That something had happened was obvious. I remembered last night's half-hearted performance. "By the way," said I, "Bakkus mentioned in his note that he was going over to Clermont-Ferrand to see you." "Yes," said Lackaday, "I left him there. He has marvellous tact and influence when he chooses to exert them.
As for the Commune, they expect to see it rise again later, and the "established order" does absolutely nothing to prevent its return. The reestablishment of credit seems to me colossally absurd. One of my friends made a good speech against it; the godson of your friend Michel de Bourges, Bardoux, mayor of Clermont-Ferrand. I think, like you, that the bourgeois republic can be established.
"If it hadn't been for the accident of Hylton being here, we should not have met now." "Captain Hylton had nothing to do with it," she said warmly. "I had no notion that you were at Clermont-Ferrand." "I'm quite aware of that, Lady Auriol." She flushed, vexed at having said a foolish thing. "And Captain Hylton had no notion that I was coming." "Perfectly," said Lackaday.
The committee is essentially a police office; it delivers certificates of civism, issues warrants of arrest, corresponds with other committees, even very remote, at Limoges, and Clermont-Ferrand, delegates any of its members to make investigations or domicialiary searches, to affix seals, and it receives and transmits denunciations, summons the denounced to appear before it, reads interrogations, writes to the Committee of Public Safety, etc.
Reason enough for a crise des nerfs. Even I, who had nothing to do with it, found my equilibrium disturbed. Lady Auriol and I dined together. She declared herself rested and in her right and prosaic mind. "I have no desire to lose your company," said I, "so I hope there's no more talk of an unbooked strapontin on the midnight train." "No need," she replied. "He's leaving Clermont-Ferrand tomorrow.
"I swear," said I. "Pardon, Miladi," called the concierge, receiver in hand. "The gare de Clermont-Ferrand says there is no place salon-lit or coupe-lit free in the train to-night. But there is one place de milieu, premiere, not yet taken." "Reserve it then and tell them you're sending a chasseur at once with the money." She turned to me. "My luck's in." "Luck!" I cried.
The cold was the pitiless cold of northern midwinter, and I remembered with a shiver that Millau and Clermont-Ferrand were separated from one another by nearly two hundred and fifty kilometres of such mountain roads as these.
The reason for this frenzied going and coming of human beings between Clermont-Ferrand and Royat, I could never understand. I believe tram-riding is a hideous vice.
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