The novels, romances, and memoirs of Alphonse Daudet (7 page)

The next day, at eight o'clock, I reached the school. M. Viot stood at the door, with his bunch of keys in his hand, superintending the entrance of the day scholars. He received me with his sweetest smile.

"Wait in the vestibule," said he, " and when the boys have gone in, I will present you to your colleagues."

I waited in the vestibule, walking to and fro, and bowing low to the teachers, who arrived hurriedly, and out of breath. One of these gentlemen only returned my bow; he was a priest, the professor of philosophy, " an eccentric person," M. Viot said to me. I took a fancy at once to this eccentric person.

The bell rang, the classes were made up. Four or five tall fellows, from twenty-five to thirty years

old, ill dressed, and with vulgar faces, came skipping up, and stopped, confused by M. Viot's aspect.

*' Gentlemen," said the inspector-general, presenting me to them, " this is M. Daniel Eyssette, your new colleague."

Having said this, he bowed slowly, and retired, still smiling, with his head still on one side, still shaking his horrible keys.

My colleagues and I looked at one another, for a moment, in silence.

The tallest and stoutest among them began to speak first; he was M. Serrieres, the famous Ser-rieres, whose place I was about to fill.

" Oho ! " cried he gayly, " I might remark that though one master succeed another, he need not resemble him."

This was an allusion to the prodigious difference of height that existed between us. We laughed a great, great deal, and I the first; but I assure you that at that moment Little What's-His-Name would gladly have sold his soul to the devil to be just a few inches taller.

" That is no matter," added the big Serrieres, holding out his hand to me ; " though we may not be built on the same pattern, it will not prevent our emptying a few bottles together. Come along with us now; I am going to give a farewell treat of punch, at the Caf6 Barbette, and I want you to join us; we can make acquaintance as we drink."

Without giving me time to reply, he pulled my

arm through his, and dragged mc out. The Cafd Barbette, where my new colleagues took me, was on the parade ground. It was a favorite haunt of the non-commissioned officers of the garrison, and what struck me as I entered, was the number of shakoes and sword-belts hanging upon the pegs.

On that day, Serrieres' departure and his farewell treat had attracted all the customers of the place in full force. The non-commissioned ofifi-cers, to whom Serrieres introduced me as we arrived, welcomed me with much cordiality. To tell the truth, however, Little What's-His-Name's appearance caused no great sensation, and I was very soon forgotten, in the corner of the room where I had timidly taken refuge. While the glasses were being filled, Serrieres came and sat down beside me; he had taken off his coat and held between his teeth a long clay pipe on which his name was inscribed in porcelain letters. All the masters had pipes like it, at the Cafe Barbette.

" Well, colleague! " said the big Serrieres, " you see we have some fun occasionally in our profession. You really came just at the right time for beginning at Sarlande. In the first place the absinthe at the Cafe Barbette is excellent, and, then, too, you will not be too badly off at the *jair!"

By the " jail" he meant the school.

" You will have the small boys to teach, little scamps that you can rule with a rod of iron. You ought to see how I have disciplined them! The principal is kind enough; the masters are good

fellows; there is nobody but the old woman and Viot—"

" What old woman ? " I asked with a shudder.

" Oh ! you '11 know her very soon. At all hours of the day and night you will meet her prowling about the school, wearing an enormous pair of spectacles. She is an aunt of the principal, and acts as a sort of housekeeper. The wretch ! If we don't die with hunger it's not her fault."

By Serrieres' description, I recognized the fairy in spectacles, and in spite of all I could do, I felt that I was blushing. A dozen times I was on the point of interrupting my colleague and asking about the black eyes, but I did not dare. What, speak of the black eyes at the Cafe Barbette!

In the meanwhile, the punch was going the rounds; empty glasses were filled, full glasses were emptied; there were toasts and shouts: the men brandished billiard cues in the air; and nudged one another with loud laughter, puns and confidences.

Gradually, Little What 's-His-Name felt less shy. He had left his corner and was walking about the cafe with his glass in his hand, talking in a loud voice.

Now the non-commissioned officers had become his friends ; he related shamelessly to one of them that he belonged to a rich family, and that after sowing his wild oats he had been sent off from his father's house, and had become a master to earn his living, but he did not think he should stay long at the school. That was natural, since his family was so rich!

Ah, if his friends at Lyons could have heard him at that moment!

This is the way of men, however! When they learned, at the Cafe Barbette, that I had been exiled from my family, that I was a young rogue and a scrapcgrace, and not, as they might have thought, a poor fellow forced by his poverty into school-teaching, they all looked at me more favorably. The older non-commissioned officers did not disdain to address me, and as we were about to go, Roger, the fencing-master, my friend of the night before, rose and proposed a toast to Daniel Eyssette. You may imagine how proud Little What's-His-Name was.

The toast to Daniel Eyssette was the signal for departure. It was a quarter to ten, that is to say, the hour for returning to the school.

The man with the keys was waiting at the door.

" Monsieur Serrieres," said he to my tall colleague who was rather unsteady after his farewell punch, " you are now, for the last time to conduct your pupils to the class-room; as soon as they are all assembled, the principal and I shall come to install the new master."

In fact, some minutes afterwards, the principal, M. Viot and the new master made their solemn entrance into the class-room.

Everybody rose.

The principal presented me to the boys in a speech that was rather long, but full of dignity; then he retired, followed by the big Serrieres who was growing more and more affected by the punch

he had taken. M. Viot remained after the others; he made no speech but his keys —clink, clank, clink—spoke for him in so terrible —clink, clank, cHnk —so threatening a manner, that all the boys hid their heads behind the desk-covers, and the new master himself was not at his ease.

As soon as the terrible keys had gone away, a mass of mischievous faces appeared from behind the desks; all the pen-handles flew to the boys' lips, and all those little bright, wild, mocking eyes were fixed upon me, while a long whisper passed from desk to desk.

A little annoyed, I slowly ascended the steps to my seat; I tried to look fiercely about me, and then, raising my voice, cried, between two loud, sharp raps upon the table:

" To work, gentlemen, to work! "

It was thus that Little What 's-His-Name began to hold his first study-hour.

CHAPTER VI.

THE JUNIORS.

The little fellows were not naughty; it was the others. They never did me any harm, and I loved them because their hearts were not yet hardened by the school life and I could read all their soul in their eyes.

I never punished them. What good would it have done? Do we punish birds? When they chirped too loud I had only to call: " Silence ! " and my aviary was immediately hushed, at least for five minutes.

The oldest of my class was eleven. Eleven, only think of it! And the big Serrieres had boasted that he ruled them with a rod of iron.

I did not rule them with a rod of iron: I tried always to be kind to them, that is all.

Sometimes, when they had been very good, I would tell them a story. A story, what joy! Quick as lightning they folded their copy-books together, shut their books; threw their inkstands, rulers, pen-handles, and everything else into the desks; then, with their arms folded upon the top, they opened their eyes wide and listened. I had composed on purpose for them, five or six fanciful little tales: " The first appearance of a grass-

hopper," " The misfortunes of Jack Rabbit," etc. Then as now, the good La Fontaine was my favorite saint in the Hterary calendar, and my stories were merely commentaries upon his fables; only I put part of my own history into them. There was always a poor cricket obliged to earn his living like Little What 's-His-Name, and some ladybirds that pasted cardboard together and sobbed like Eyssette (Jacques). This amused the children, and amused me, too, very much. Unfortunately, M. Viot did not desire us to amuse ourselves in this way.

Three or four times a week the terrible man with the keys made a tour of inspection in the school, to see whether all was being carried on according to the regulations. Now, on one of these days he reached the class-room just at the most pathetic moment in the history of Jack Rabbit. Every one started as he entered. The children were scared and looked at one another. The narrator stopped short, and Jack Rabbit, abashed, stood with one paw in the air, pricking up his long ears with fright.

M. Viot stopped in front of my seat, and, smiling, cast a long glance of amazement over the desks that had been stripped of their furnishings. He did not speak, but his keys shook ferociously: " Clink, clank, clink! you rascals; it seems you don't work here any more."

Trembling, I tried to appease the terrible keys.

" These gentlemen have been studying very hard lately," I stammered; " I wanted to reward them by teUing them a little story."

M. Viot did not answer. He bowed and smiled, made his keys clash once more, and then went out.

That afternoon, at the four o'clock recess, he came up to me, and, still smiling and silent, handed me the book of rules, open at page 12: "The duties of a master to his pupils."

I understood that I was not to tell any more stories, and I never did again.

For some days my children were inconsolable. They missed Jack Rabbit, and it broke my heart not to be able to give him back to them. I loved those little fellows so much, if you could only know how much ! We were never separated. The school was made up of three very distinct divisions: the seniors, the intermediates, and the juniors ; each division had its own court, its dormitory and its class-room. So the little boys were all my own; it seemed to me that I had thirty-five children. ^

Except these, I had no other friends. It was in vain that M. Viot smiled at me, took me by the arm at the recreation hour, and gave me advice on the subject of discipline. I did not like him ; I could never like him; I was too much afraid of his keys. I never saw the principal. The professors despised Little What's-His-Name, and turned up their noses at him. As to my colleagues, the liking that the man with the keys appeared to show me had alienated them all; besides, since my introduction to the non-commissioned officers, I had never returned to the

Cafe Barbette, and those good fellows could not forgive that.

Even Cassagne the porter and the fencing-master Roger were against me. The fencing-master particularly seemed to owe me a terrible grudge, and when I passed by him, he twirled his moustache fiercely, and rolled his eyes round as if he wanted to sabre a hundred Arabs. Once he said very loud to Cassagne, looking toward me, that he did not like spies. Cassagne did not answer, but I could see very well by his manner that he did not like them either. What spies did he mean? It made me think very hard.

In view of this universal dislike, I formed a brave resolution. The master of the intermediate class shared a small room with me, on the third story, under the roof; there it was that I took refuge during the recitation hour. As my colleague passed all his time at the Cafe Barbette, the room belonged to me; it was my own room, my home.

As soon as I entered it, I double-locked the door, and dragged my trunk, — there were no chairs in my room — to an old bureau covered with inkspots, and inscriptions cut with a penknife ; I spread out my books upon it, and then to work! It was in the springtime, then. When I raised my head, I saw the blue sky, and the tall trees in the courtyard already in leaf. There was no noise outside. From time to time, the monotonous voice of a boy reciting his lesson, the exclamation of an angry teacher, a quarrel among the sparrows

in the branches; then, all became silent again, and the school seemed asleep.

Little What's-His-Name was not asleep. He was not even dreaming, — which is an adorable way of sleeping. He was studying, studying unceasingly; stuffing his brain with Greek and Latin enough to make it burst.

Sometimes, in the midst of his dry work, a mysterious hand tapped on the door.

" Who is there?"

" It is I, the Muse, your old friend; the wife of the red copybook; open the door quickly. Little What's-His-Name."

But Little What *s-his-Name took care not to open his door. It was not a question of the Muse then, I can tell you !

To the devil with the red copybook! The important thing of the moment was to write a great many Greek exercises, to get a degree, be appointed professor, and rebuild, as soon as possible, the fortunes of the Eyssette family.

The thought that I was working for my family gave me great courage, and made my life sweeter to me, — even my room was adorned by it. O my dear, dear attic! What happy hours I spent between your four walls! How hard I worked there, and how brave I felt!

If I had some happy hours, I had some wretched ones, too. Twice a week, Sunday and Thursday, I had to take the children out for a walk. That walk was torture to me.

Ordinarily, we went to the Meadow, a broad

lawn stretching like a carpet as far as the foot of the mountain, a mile from the town. A few tall chestnut trees, three or four public-houses, painted yellow, and a fresh spring bubbling out of the turf, made the place gay and attractive to the eye. The three divisions of the school made their way there separately; once there, they were all put under the charge of a single master, and I was always that master. My two colleagues went to get themselves treated by the big boys in the neighboring public-houses, and, as they never invited me, I stayed to look after the scholars. A hard task in this lovely spot!