There is a fair library of standard classics, but no modern books whatever; studiously-minded people may go and kill time there up to three in the afternoon, for there is really nothing to do. The sole obligation of the students is, once a year, to send a sample of their work to the Academy in Paris; for the rest of the time they do exactly as they please. The director simply has to see that rules are kept and the whole establishment well managed; with the inmates’ work he has nothing to do whatever. It would be hardly fair that he should; to overlook and advise twenty-two young men in five different branches of art would hardly be within one man’s compass. The Ave Maria was ringing as I entered the portals of the Villa and, as that was the dinner-hour, I went straight to the refectory. As soon as I appeared in the doorway there was a hurrah that raised the roof. “Ho! ho! Berlioz! Oh that blessed head! that fiery mop! that dainty nose! I say, Jalay, his nose knocks spots out of yours; take a back-seat, my good man!” “He can give _you_ points in hair anyway.” “Ye gods, _what_ a crop!” “Heigh, Berlioz! how about those infernal side-drums that wouldn’t start the _Fire_! By Jove! he was in a wax. Good reason, too! I say, have you forgotten me?” “I know your face well enough, but your name----” “He says ‘you.’ Don’t give yourself airs, old boy, we are all ‘thou’ here.” “Well, what is _thy_ name?” “Signol.” “No, it isn’t; it’s _Ros_signol.”[9] “Lord, what a beastly bad pun!” “Do let him sit down.” “Whom? The pun?” “Get out! Berlioz, of course.” “I say, Fleury, bring us some punch--real good stuff. We’ll stop this idiot’s mouth.” “Now our musical section is complete.” “Montfort” (the laureate of the year before me), “embrace your comrade.” “No, he sha’n’t!” “Yes, he shall!” and they all yelled together. “Look here; while you others are fighting, he’s eating all the macaroni. Leave me a bit!” “Well, embrace him all round and get it done with.” “Oh, bother! Now it’s going to begin all over again.” “I say, I’m not going to drink wine when there’s punch.” “Not much! Break the bottles. Look out, Fleury!” “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Don’t break the glasses, please! You will want them for the punch. You would not like to drink punch out of little glasses.” “Perish the thought! You are a man of sense, Fleury. You were only just in time, though.” Fleury was the prop of the house; a thoroughly good fellow, who well deserved the trust of the Academy directors. Nothing ruffled him; he was so used to our scenes that he kept the aspect of a graven image, which made it all the funnier for us. When I had got over my tempestuous reception, I looked round the hall. On one wall were about fifty portraits of former students, on the other a series of the most outrageous life-sized caricatures, also of inmates of the Academy. Unluckily, for want of wall-space, these soon came to an end.