An old man--a parent or grandparent probably of some unsuccessful candidate--bursts into tears and exclaims, "Oh! qué malheur--qué malheur!" A shabby, tall, pallid youth, in the uniform of the Collège Ste.-Barbe, rushes down the stone stair's shrieking, "Ça pue l'injustice, ici!" One hears him all over the place: terrible heartburns and tragic disappointments in the beginning of life resulted from failure in this first step--a failure which disqualified one for all the little government appointments so dear to the heart of the frugal French parent. "Mille francs par an! c'est le Pactole!" * * * * * Barty took his defeat pretty easily--he put it all down to his nose bleeding--and seemed so pleased at my success, and my dear mother's delight in it, that he was soon quite consoled; he was always like that. To M. Mérovée, Barty's failure was as great a disappointment as it was a painful surprise. [Illustration: "'MAURICE AU PIQUET!'"] "Try again Josselin! Don't leave here till you have passed. If you are content to fail in this, at the very outset of your career, you will never succeed in anything through life! Stay with us as my guest till you can go up again, and again if necessary. _Do_, my dear child--it will make me so happy! I shall feel it as a proof that you reciprocate in some degree the warm friendship I have always borne you--in common with everybody in the school! Je t'en prie, mon garçon!" Then he went to the Rohans and tried to persuade them. But Lord Archibald didn't care much about Bachots, nor his wife either. They were going back to live in England, besides; and Barty was going into the Guards. I left school also--with a mixture of hope and elation, and yet the most poignant regret. I can hardly find words to express the gratitude and affection I felt for Mérovée Brossard when I bade him farewell. Except his father before him, he was the best and finest Frenchman I ever knew. There is nothing invidious in my saying this, and in this way. I merely speak of the Brossards, father and son, as Frenchmen in this connection, because their admirable qualities of heart and mind were so essentially French; they would have done equal honor to any country in the world. I corresponded with him regularly for a few years, and so did Barty; and then our letters grew fewer and farther between, and finally left off altogether--as nearly always happens in such cases, I think. And I never saw him again; for when he broke up the school he went to his own province in the southeast, and lived there till twenty years ago, when he died--unmarried, I believe.