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He has in the press a treatise which will revolutionize the law of mortgages; he has been working twenty years at it; a masterpiece, I assure you." Day follows day; no book appears, no treatise is published, and all the while M. Flamaran grows in reputation. Strange phenomenon! like the aloe in the Botanical Gardens. The blossoming of the aloe is an event.
And I won't be refused no, damme, I won't!" He brought down his fist upon the table with a tremendous blow which made the glasses ring and the decanters stagger. "Coming!" cried a waiter from below, thinking he was summoned. "All right, my good fellow!" shouted M. Flamaran, leaning over the railings. "Don't trouble. I don't want anything."
People make lists of the books he might have written. Lucky author! M. Flamaran is a professor of the old school, stern, and at examination a terror to the candidates. Clad in cap and gown, he would reject his own son. Nothing will serve. Recommendations defeat their object.
The whole population of Juan Fernandez was staring up at Flamaran without in the least knowing the reason why. "Gentlemen," said a voice from an arbor, "Professor Flamaran will now begin his lecture." A chorus of shouts and laughter rose around our tree. "Hi, old boy, wait till we're gone!" "Ladies, he will discourse to you on the law of husband and wife!" "No, on the foreclosure of mortgages!"
And old Michu added, in a whisper, "You have passed. I told you so. You won't forget old Michu, sir." M. Flamaran conferred my degree with a paternal smile, and a few kind words for "this conscientious study, full of fresh ideas on a difficult subject." I bowed to the examiners. Larive was waiting for me in the courtyard, and seized me by the arm. "Uncle Mouillard will be pleased."
The current was barely indicated by the gentle oscillation of a few water-lily leaves. Two big blue dragonflies poised and quivered upon our floats, and not a fish seemed to care to disturb them. "Well," said M. Flamaran, "so you are still managing clerk to Counsellor Boule?" "For the time." "Do you like it?" "Not particularly." "What are you waiting for?" "For something to turn up."
The very last time I saw Monsieur Flamaran he let fall 'my very good friend Charnot, of the 'Inscriptions. They are friends. And I am in a pretty situation; threatened with I don't know what by the Library for the keeper told me positively that this was all 'for the present' but not for the future; threatened to be disgraced in my tutor's eyes; and all because this learned man's temper is upset.
M. Flamaran narrated to us, with dates, how a friend of his one day depicted to him a young girl at Montbrison, of fresh and pleasing appearance, a good housekeeper, and of excellent family; and how he M. Flamaran had forthwith started off to find her, had recognized her before she was pointed out to him, fell in love with her at first sight, and was not long in obtaining her affection in return.
He has in the press a treatise which will revolutionize the law of mortgages; he has been working twenty years at it; a masterpiece, I assure you." Day follows day; no book appears, no treatise is published, and all the while M. Flamaran grows in reputation. Strange phenomenon! like the aloe in the Botanical Gardens. The blossoming of the aloe is an event.
Above his pinched, cleanshaven chin his lips shot out with an angry twitch. The portfolio shook under his arm. He flung me a look full of tragedy and went on his way. Well, well; go your way, M. Charnot! One doesn't offer apologies to a man in his wrath. You shall have them by-and-bye, when we meet again. December 28, 1884. This afternoon I paid M. Flamaran a visit.
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