In my time there was an old doorkeeper at the Institute whose indignation at all this procedure was most amusing. It was his duty to lock us up and let us out, and, being also usher to the Academicians, he was on the inside track and made some very odd notes. He had been a cabin boy, which at once enlisted my sympathies; for I always loved sailors, and can listen imperturbably to their long-winded yarns; no matter how far they wander from the point I am always ready with a word to set them right again. We were the best of friends, Pingard and I. One day, talking of Syria, he mentioned Volney. “M. le Comte,” he said, “was so good and easy-going that he always wore blue woollen stockings.” But his respect for me became unbounded enthusiasm when I asked whether he knew Levaillant. “M. Levaillant!” he cried, “Rather! One day at the Cape I was sauntering along, whistling, when a big sun-burnt man with a beard turned round on me. I suppose he guessed I was French from my whistle. Of course I whistle in French, monsieur. “‘I say, you young rogue, you’re French?’ “‘I should say I was. Givet is my part of the country.’ “‘Oh, you _are_ French?’ “‘Yes.’ “And he turned his back and strode off. You see I did know M. Levaillant!” The good old boy made such a friend of me that he told me a lot he would not have dared to repeat to anyone else. I remember a lively conversation with him the day I got the second prize. We had a piece of Tasso set that year, towards the end of which the Queen of Antioch invokes the god of the Christians she has contemned. I had the impudence to think that, although the last section was marked _agitato_, this ought to be a prayer, and I wrote it _andante_. I was rather pleased with it on the whole. When I got to the Institute to hear whether the painters and sculptors, and architects, and engravers of medals, and line-engravers had settled whether I were a good or bad musician, I ran against Pingard on the stairs. “Well?” I asked, “what have they decided?” “Oh, hallo, Berlioz! I am glad you have come. I was hunting for you.” “What have I got? Do hurry up! First? Second? Nothing?” “Oh, do wait; I’m all of a tremble. Will you believe you were only two votes short of the first prize?” “The first I’ve heard of it.” “It’s true, though. The second is all very well, but I call it beastly that you missed the first by two votes. I am neither a painter, nor a sculptor, nor an architect, so of course I know nothing about music, but I’ll be hanged if that _God of the Christians_ of yours didn’t set my heart gurgling and rumbling to such a tune that if I had met you that minute I should have--have--stood you a drink!” “Thanks awfully, Pingard. I admire your taste. But, I say--you have been on the Coromandel coast?” “Yes, of course. Why?” “To Java?” “Yes, but----” “Sumatra?” “Yes.” “Borneo?” “Yes.” “You are a friend of Levaillant?” “I should think so. Hand in glove with him.” “You know Volney?”