“Oh, well, you have plenty of time to choose. Lawyer, perhaps? There are noble causes to defend. Or architect? Building houses, restoring old ones, constructing schools and churches--we have no good architects about here; there is a vacancy for one.” Thus by turns he extolled the various professions which might keep me in my native town. As he spoke the dastardly thought came to me of separating myself entirely from the house, of achieving the conquest of my own liberty. I sought about in my mind for a calling which would oblige me to leave home. In our part of the country there were no mines nor any metallurgical establishments. “I want to be an engineer,” I said. I had but just made the discovery, and knew but vaguely the nature of the profession. There had been some talk about it in the family for Stephen. “Really?” said my father, without pursuing the subject. “We will talk about it another time.” “Only,” I said, hanging my head and averting my eyes, somewhat surprised to find how one thing followed another, “only I should need another preparation than that of this school.” “Your school isn’t sufficient?” “Oh, the teachers are good fellows,” I replied contemptuously, “but as for lessons, they are far from brilliant.” Father said “ah!” and was silent. Raising my eyes I saw how surprised he was, and that was as joyful to me as a victory. Perhaps there was also in his countenance another expression than one of surprise. I was giving him an opportunity to get rid of me, as I was pleased to think was his wish; why did he not make the most of it? He turned to mother, who seemed grieved. “This requires reflection,” he said. How could one, at such an early age, find pleasure in tormenting those who loved him? Perhaps the picture in my Bible representing the return of the Prodigal Son had taught me the inexhaustible resources of paternal love. My father seemed to me so strong that I could have no fear of hurting him. All through life it is those upon whom one most depends whom one uses and misuses without mercy, not so much as thinking that they may be weary, since they never complain. And counting on their energy and health one always persuades oneself that there will be plenty of time to make it up to them, in case of need. And yet I had discerned my father’s sorrow as I stood at the door, and the altered tone of his voice had revealed to me its depth. I am asking myself now if that very confession of sorrow, far from touching me did not lessen him in my eyes, accustomed as I had been to consider him an invincible hero--whether it did not change for me that picture of him which he had imprinted upon me from my earliest intelligence.