With the aid of a system of tangents of which I first showed him the rule and the method of construction, my artist has obtained the ordinary cycloid, followed by the interior and the exterior epicycloid, and, lastly, the same curves both lengthened and shortened. His drawings are admirable Spiders’ webs, encircling the cunning curve in their net. The draughtsmanship is so accurate that it is easy to deduce from it beautiful theorems which would be very laborious to work out by the calculus. I submit the geometrical masterpieces to my chief-inspector, who is himself said to be smitten with geometry. I modestly describe the method of construction, I call his attention to the fine deductions which the drawing enables one to make. It is labour lost: he gives but a heedless glance at my sheets and flings each on the table as I hand it to him. “Alas!” said I to myself. “There is a storm brewing; the cycloid won’t save you; it’s your turn for a bite from the Crocodile!” Not a bit of it. Behold the bugbear growing genial. He sits down on a bench, with one leg here, another there, invites me to take a seat by his side and, in a moment, we are discussing graphics. Then, bluntly: “Have you any money?” he asks. Astounded at this strange question, I answer with a smile. “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “Confide in me. I’m asking you in your own interest. Have you any capital?” “I have no reason to be ashamed of my poverty, Monsieur l’inspecteur général. I frankly admit, I possess nothing; my means are limited to my modest salary.” A frown greets my answer; and I hear, spoken in an undertone, as though my confessor were talking to himself: “That’s sad, that’s really very sad.” Astonished to find my penury treated as sad, I ask for an explanation: I was not accustomed to this solicitude on the part of my superiors. “Why, yes, it’s a great pity,” continues the man reputed so terrible. “I have read your articles in the Annales des sciences naturelles. You have an observant mind, a taste for research, a lively style and a ready pen. You would have made a capital university-professor.” “But that’s just what I’m aiming at!” “Give up the idea.” “Haven’t I the necessary attainment?” “Yes, you have; but you have no capital.” The great obstacle stands revealed to me: woe to the poor in pocket! University teaching demands a private income. Be as ordinary, as commonplace as you please; but, above all, possess the coin that lets you cut a dash. That is the main thing; the rest is a secondary condition.