But no, I leaned forward to look after them. In the doorway beyond I saw M. Charnot. A young man was with him, who spoke to Jeanne. She answered him. Three words reached me: "It's nothing, George." The devil! She loves another! May 2d. In what a state of mind did I set out this morning to face my examiners! Downhearted, worn out by a night of misery, indifferent to all that might befall me, whether for good or for evil. I considered myself, and indeed I was, very wretched, but I never thought that I should return more wretched than I went. It was lovely weather when at half past eleven I started for the Law School with an annotated copy of my essay under my arm, thinking more of the regrets for the past and plans for the future with which I had wrestled all night, than of the ordeal I was about to undergo. I met in the Luxembourg the little girl whom I had kissed the week before. She stopped her hoop and stood in my way, staring with wideopen eyes and a coaxing, cunning look, which meant, "I know you, I do!" I passed by without noticing. She pouted her lip, and I saw that she was thinking, "What's the matter with him?" What was the matter? My poor little golden-locks, when you are grown a fair woman I trust you may know as little of it as you do to-day. I went up the Rue Soufliot, and entered the stuffy courtyard on the stroke of noon. The morning lectures were over. Beneath the arcades a few scattered students were walking up and down. I avoided them for fear of meeting a friend and having to talk. Several professors came running from their lunch, rather red in the face, at the summons of the secretary. These were my examiners. It was time to get into costume, for the candidate, like the criminal, has his costume. The old usher, who has dressed me up I don't know how many times in his hired gowns, saw that I was downcast, and thought I must be suffering from examination fever, a peculiar malady, which is like what a young soldier feels the first time he is under fire. We were alone in the dark robing-room; he walked round me, brushing and encouraging me; doctors of law have a moral right to this touch of the brush. "It will be all right, Monsieur Mouillard, never fear. No one has been refused a degree this morning." "I am not afraid, Michu." "When I say 'no one,' there was one refused--you never heard the like. Just imagine--a little to the right, please, Monsieur Mouillard--imagine, I say, a candidate who knew absolutely nothing. That is nothing extraordinary. But this fellow, after the examination was over, recommended himself to mercy. 'Have compassion on me, gentlemen,' he said, 'I only wish to be a magistrate!' Capital, isn't it?" "Yes, yes." "You don't seem to think so. You don't look like laughing this morning." "No, Michu, every one has his bothers, you know."