A visit from M. de la Marche stirred my ideas to still wilder disorder.  He displayed the deepest interest in me, shook me by the hand again and again, and implored my friendship, vowed a dozen times that he would lay down his life for me, and made I don’t know how many other protestations which I scarcely heard, for his voice was like a raging torrent in my ears, and if I had had my hunting-knife I believe I should have thrown myself upon him.  My rough manners and sullen looks astonished him very much; but, the abbe having explained that my mind was disturbed by the terrible events which had happened in my family, he renewed his protestations, and took leave of me in the most affectionate and courteous manner.

This politeness which I found common to everybody, from the master of the house to the meanest of his servants, though it struck me with admiration, yet made me feel strangely ill at ease; for, even if it had not been inspired by good-will towards me, I could never have brought myself to understand that it might be something very different from real goodness.  It bore so little resemblance to the facetious braggadocio of the Mauprats, that it seemed to me like an entirely new language, which I understood but could not speak.

However, I recovered the power of speech when the abbe announced that he was to have charge of my education, and began questioning me about my attainments.  My ignorance was so far beyond anything he could have imagined that I was getting ashamed to lay it all bare; and, my savage pride getting the upper hand, I declared that I was a gentleman, and had no desire to become a clerk.  His only answer was a burst of laughter, which offended me greatly.  He tapped me quickly on the shoulder, with a good-natured smile, saying that I should change my mind in time, but that I was certainly a funny fellow.  I was purple with rage when the chevalier entered.  The abbe told him of our conversation and of my little speech.  M. Hubert suppressed a smile.

“My boy,” he said, in a kind tone, “I trust I may never do anything to annoy you, even from affection.  Let us talk no more about work to-day.  Before conceiving a taste for it you must first realize its necessity.  Since you have a noble heart you can not but have a sound mind; the desire for knowledge will come to you of itself.  And now to supper.  I expect you are hungry.  Do you like wine?”

“Much better than Latin,” I replied.

“Come, abbe,” he continued laughingly, “as a punishment for having played the pedant you must drink with us.  Edmee is now quite out of danger.  The doctor has said that Bernard can get up and walk a few steps.  We will have supper served in this room.”