Book collectors -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; France -- Fiction
But I am tired; my eyes are dim; my hand trembles, and I see an image of
myself in those old me of Homer, whose weakness excluded them from the
battle, and who, seated upon the ramparts, lifted up their voices like
crickets among the leaves.
So my thoughts were wandering when three young men seated themselves
near me. I do not know whether each one of them had come in three
boats, like the monkey of Lafontaine, but the three certainly displayed
themselves over the space of twelve chairs. I took pleasure in watching
them, not because they had anything very extraordinary about them, but
because I discerned in them that brave joyous manner which is natural to
youth. They were from the schools. I was less assured of it by the books
they were carrying than by the character of their physiognomy. For
all who busy themselves with the things of the mind can be at once
recognised by an indescribably something which is common to all of them.
I am very fond of young people; and these pleased me, in spite of a
certain provoking wild manner which recalled to me my own college days
with marvellous vividness. But they did not wear velvet doublets and
long hair, as we used to do; they did not walk about, as we used to do,
“Hell and malediction!” They were quite properly dressed, and neither
their costume nor their language had anything suggestive of the Middle
Ages. I must also add that they paid considerable attention to the women
passing on the terrace, and expressed their admiration of some of them
in very animated language. But their reflections, even on this subject,
were not of a character to oblige me to flee from my seat. Besides, so
long as youth is studious, I think it has a right to its gaieties.
One of them, having made some gallant pleasantry which I forget, the
smallest and darkest of the three exclaimed, with a slight Gascon
accent,
“What a thing to say! Only physiologists like us have any right to
occupy ourselves about living matter. As for you, Gelis, who only live
in the past--like all your fellow archivists and paleographers--you will
do better to confine yourself to those stone women over there, who are
your contemporaries.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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