He stopped between each word, and at each word I blushed afresh, and the perspiration ran down my forehead in faster and faster drops. It was the first time I had been thus actually confronted with my ignorance. "No, General," I replied, stammering; "I do not know anything of those things." "You have perhaps studied law?" "No, General." "You know Latin, Greek?" "A little Latin, no Greek." "Can you speak any modern language?" "Italian." "You understand book-keeping?" "Not the least in the world." I was in agony, and he himself was visibly sorry for me. "Oh, General!" I burst out in tones that seemed to impress him greatly, "my education is utterly defective and I am ashamed to say that I never realised it until this moment.... Oh! but I will mend matters, I give you my word; and soon, very soon, I shall be able to reply 'Yes' to all the questions to which I have just now said 'No.'" "But have you anything to live upon in the meantime, my young friend?" "Nothing, absolutely nothing, General!" I replied, crushed by the feeling of my powerlessness. The general looked at me in profound pity. "Nevertheless," he said, "I do not want to abandon you ..." "No, General, for you will not be abandoning me only! True, I am ignorant and good for nothing; but my mother counts upon me; I have promised her I will find a place, and she ought not to be punished for my ignorance and my laziness." "Give me your address," said the general. "I will consider what can be done for you.... Write, there, at that desk." He held the pen out to me which he had just been using. I took it; I looked at it, still wet; then, shaking my head, I gave it back to him. "What is the matter?" "No, General," I said; "I cannot write with your pen: it would be a profanation." He smiled. "What a child you are!" he said. "Look, here is a new one." "Thanks." I wrote. The general looked on. I had scarcely written my name before he clapped his hands together. "We are saved!" he said. "How is that?" "You write a beautiful hand." My head fell on my breast; my shame was insupportable. The only thing I possessed was a good handwriting. This diploma of incapacity well became me! A beautiful handwriting! So some day I might become a copying-clerk. That was my future! I would rather cut off my right arm. General Foy went on without paying much heed to what was passing through my mind. "Listen," he said: "I am dining to-day at the Palais-Royal; I will mention you to the Duc d'Orléans; I will tell him he ought to take the son of a Republican general into his offices. Sit down there...." He pointed to an empty desk. "Draw up a petition, and write your very best."