“Madame de La Pérouse is always reproaching me with it. She can’t understand that those are the only lessons that interest me; yes, the only lessons I really care about ... giving. I have taken to reflecting a great deal lately. Here! there’s something I should like to ask you. Why is it there is so little about old people in books?... I suppose it’s because old people aren’t able to write themselves and young ones don’t take any interest in them. No one’s interested in an old man.... And yet there are a great many curious things that might be said about them. For instance: there are certain acts in my past life which I’m only just beginning to understand. Yes, I’m just beginning to understand that they haven’t at all the meaning I attached to them in the old days when I did them.... I’ve only just begun to understand that I have been a dupe during the whole of my life. Madame de La Pérouse has fooled me; my son has fooled me; everybody has fooled me; God has fooled me....” The evening was closing in. I could hardly make out my old master’s features; but suddenly the light of the street lamp flashed out and showed me his cheeks glittering with tears. I looked anxiously at first at an odd mark on his temple, like a dint, like a hole; but as he moved a little, the spot changed places and I saw that it was only a shadow cast by a knob of the balustrade. I put my hand on his scraggy arm; he shivered. “You’ll catch cold,” I said. “Really, shan’t we light the fire?... Come along.” “No, no; one must harden oneself.” “What? Stoicism?” “Yes, a little. It’s because my throat was delicate that I never would wear a scarf. I have always struggled with myself.” “That’s all very well as long as one is victorious; but if one’s body gives way....” “That would be the real victory.” He let go my hand and went on: “I was afraid you would go away without coming to see me.” “Go where?” I asked. “I don’t know. You travel so much. There’s something I wanted to say to you.... I expect to be going away myself soon.” “What! are you thinking of travelling?” I asked clumsily, pretending not to understand him, notwithstanding the mysterious solemnity of his voice. He shook his head. “You know very well what I mean.... Yes, yes. I know it will soon be time. I am beginning to earn less than my keep; and I can’t endure it. There’s a certain point beyond which I have promised myself not to go.” He spoke in an emotional tone which alarmed me.