THE LAST EXAMINATION
Friday, 7th.
This morning we had our oral examinations. At eight o'clock we were all in the schoolroom, and at a quarter past they began to call us, four at a time, into the big hall, where there was a large table covered with a green cloth. Around it were seated the principal and four other teachers, among them our own. I was one of the first called out.
Dear teacher! how plainly I saw this morning that you are really fond of us! While they were questioning the others, he had no eyes for any one but us. He was troubled when we were uncertain in our replies; he grew serene when we gave a fine answer; he heard everything, and made us a thousand signs with his hand and head, to say to us, “Good!—no!—pay attention!—slower!—courage!”
He would have suggested everything to us, had he been able to talk. If the fathers of all these pupils had been in his place, one after the other, they could not have done more. I could have cried “Thank you!” ten times over, in the face of them all. And when the other masters said to me, “That is well; you may go,” his eyes beamed with pleasure.
I returned at once to the schoolroom to wait for my father. Nearly all were still there. I sat down beside Garrone. I was not at all cheerful; I was thinking that it was the last time that we should be near each other for an hour. I had not yet told Garrone
