And we marched along on tiptoes with heads up and eyelids drawn over our eyes as we tried to look down in order to see where we were walking. We marched along like this with all the stateliness and solemnity of camels! He then taught us to make our exit with indifference, dignity, or fury, and it was amusing to see us going toward the doors either with a lagging step or in an animated or hurried way, according to the mood in which we were supposed to be. Then we heard: “Enough! _Go!_ Not a word!” for M. Elie would not allow us to murmur a single word. “Everything,” he used to say, “is in the look, the gesture, the attitude!” Then there was what he called “_l’assiette_,” which meant the way to sit down in a dignified manner, to let oneself fall into a seat wearily, or the “_assiette_,” which meant: “I am listening, monsieur; say what you wish.” Ah, that was distractingly complicated, that way of sitting down! We had to put everything into it: the desire to know what was going to be said to us, the fear of hearing it, the determination to go away, the will to stay. Oh, the tears that this “_assiette_” cost me! Poor old M. Elie! I do not bear him any ill-will, but I did my utmost later on to forget everything he had taught me, for nothing could have been more useless than those deportment lessons. Every human being moves about according to his or her proportions. Women who are too tall take long strides, those who stoop walk like the Eastern women; stout women walk like ducks, short-legged ones trot; very small women skip along, and the gawky ones walk like cranes. Nothing can be done for them, and the deportment class has very wisely been abolished. The gesture must depict the thought, and it is harmonious or stupid, according to whether the _artiste_ is intelligent or null. For the theater one needs long arms; it is better to have them too long than too short. An _artiste_ with short arms can never, never make a fine gesture. It was all in vain that poor Elie told us this or that. We were always stupid and awkward, while he was always comic; oh, so comic, poor old man!