I reddened with pleasure, and without thinking that my request might
appear sudden and strange, I said to him, “Will you be my friend?” and I
held out my hand to him.
He took it, and looking in my face, smiled again, and simply said:—“I
should like it very much.”
I cast a look of triumph in _The Count’s_ direction; but unfortunately
his back was turned towards me.
------------------
XXII.
STUDIES.—SCHOOLBOY TALK.
WITH what ardour I attacked my Latin! How anxious I was to show the
boys, and Marc above all, that although I might be stupid at playing
Prisoner’s Base, I was not stupid at my lessons.
Marc recited the best in the class, and I felt as much pleasure at his
doing so as if I had been the first in the class myself. I came out
second, to my great joy. The others stammered through their lessons
somehow; as for _The Count_ he could scarcely decline a noun correctly.
But after all, what could be expected, when all study time was spent by
him in making paper boxes for chocolate, and writing on them his names
in full, the place and date of his birth, and his present address; or
else in making little scales with cotton and pieces of paper, in which
he weighed flies, wafers and little bits of feather cut from the quill
pens,—while the rest of us were busy humming over our lessons to
ourselves, with our thumbs pressed into our ears.
When I returned home in the evening I spoke of nothing but my new
friend, and the pleasure I had had in playing at Prisoner’s Base. I kept
to myself the unpleasant and disparaging remarks made by _The Count_. I
was happy, animated and chatty. My father looked at me with an
expression of good-natured curiosity and my mother smiled. I explained
to them, at great length, but without the least clearness, the rules of
Prisoner’s Base, talking exactly as if it was a new game just invented;
as if no one had ever heard of it before, and as if my father had never
been a schoolboy. It is one of the peculiarities of childhood to think
that the world begins with themselves, and to wish to explain everything
from beginning to end to grown-up people. My excitement seemed quite to
change my nature, habits and disposition. I kept interrupting the
conversation by saying in a loud tone, “_He_ told me this,” or “_he_ did
that,” the _he_ being in each instance my new friend Marc.
My father was most kind and considerate that evening in making allowance
for my excitement and enthusiasm, and never once said that children
should not bore grown-up people with their foolish chatter. On the
contrary he rather encouraged me and exchanged glances of satisfaction
with my mother. Ah, that was a happy evening!
------------------
XXIII.
A DREADFUL ADVENTURE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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