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Updated: May 10, 2025
Marry as soon as you have taken your degree." I did not recover from the shock till I was halfway across the Luxembourg Gardens, near the Tennis Court, when I sat down, overcome. See what comes of enthusiasm and going to call on your tutor! Ah, young three- and-twenty, when will you learn wisdom? I have made up my mind. I shall go to see M. Charnot.
It is Monsieur Charnot, of the Institute, who was reading the Early Text." "Merciful Heavens!" I ejaculated, as I went back to my seat; "this must be the man of whom my tutor spoke, the other day! Monsieur Flamaran belongs to the Academy of Moral and Political Science, the other to the Institute of Inscriptions and the Belles-Lettres. Charnot? Yes, I have those two syllables in my ear.
I hid at they came near, and saw her pass on her father's arm, chatting in low tones, full of joy to have escaped from the Rue de l'Universite. She was looking before her with wide-open eyes. M. Charnot kept his eyes on his daughter, more interested in her than in all the wealth of spring.
In the doorway beyond I saw M. Charnot. A young man was with him, who spoke to Jeanne. She answered him. Three words reached me: "It's nothing, George." The devil! She loves another! May 2d. In what a state of mind did I set out this morning to face my examiners! Downhearted, worn out by a night of misery, indifferent to all that might befall me, whether for good or for evil.
Madeleine had raised her master's head and was wailing aloud. "Alas!" she said, "it's that dreadful colic he had ten years ago which has got him again. Dear heart! how ill he was! I remember how it came on, just like this, in the garden." I interrupted her lamentations by saying: "Monsieur Charnot, I think we had better take Monsieur Mouillard up to bed."
Poor child! Forget all this, Monsieur Fabien; you can do nothing to help. Be true to your youth, and tell us next time of Monsieur Charnot and Mademoiselle Jeanne." Dear Madame Lampron! I tried to console her; but as I never knew my mother, I could find but little to say. All the same, she thanked me and assured me I had done her good. January 1, 1885. The first of January!
Mademoiselle Charnot turned, without a reply, to look at the country which was flying past us in the darkness. I could just see her profile, and the nervous movement of her eyelids. As she made no attempt to speak, her silence emboldened me.
"You have been to see Monsieur Charnot?" "In the Rue de l'Universite. Wasn't it the simplest thing to do? Besides, I was not sorry to make the acquaintance of a member of the Institute. And I must admit that he behaved very nicely to me not a bit stuck up." "And you told him?" "My name to begin with: Brutus Mouillard.
M. Charnot was stooping, examining a superb pink carnation. Jeanne was hovering undecided between twenty bunches of flowers, bending her pretty head in its spring hat over each in turn. "Which, father?" "Whichever you like; but make up your mind soon; Flamaran is waiting." A moment more, and the elective affinities carried the day. "This bunch of mignonette," she said. I would have wagered on it.
Across the table stood his daughter, leaning forward with her chin on her hands and her white teeth showing as she laughed for laughing's sake, to give play to her young spirits and gladden her old father's heart as he gazed on her, delighted. I must confess it made a pretty picture; and M. Charnot at that moment was extremely unlike the M. Charnot who had confronted me from behind the desk.
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