Salle d'Étude

I LIFTED the lid of my desk to take out my grammaire and cahier. Then I let the lid down into place again very slowly, taking care not to make any noise. I knew that if I let it fall with a thud Monsieur Velleumier would give me consigne. He was sitting on the platform at the front of the salle d’étude, balancing his chair on two legs and leaning his shoulders against the wall. I thought how funny it would be if the legs of his chair should slip and let him fall. He never sat quite still. First he would edge his chair a little farther from the wall; then he would move it back. He could n’t seem to tilt it at an angle that was comfortable. Once Drasche, the Austrian, said he was going to rub floor wax on the platform to make it slippery; but he never did. I guess he was afraid of the consigne too. Some of the other masters read a newspaper when they were in charge of the salle d’étude. But Monsieur Velleumier never did. Nobody liked him for that reason. It was impossible to throw spitballs or shoot paper wads from an elastic, because he never ceased running his eye up and down the rows.

I turned over the pages of my grammaire till I found the exercise for the next day. It was an Exercice d’invention et de réflexion. I did n’t mind that kind as much as the Morceaux litter air es, where ‘Les élèves reproduiront d leur manière le passage suivant.’ The one I had to do was called Les Meubles. I read the instructions to myself, ' Copiez les questions suivantes et répondez-y.’ I opened the cahier to a clean page, put down the heading, and then began the exercise. I copied down the first question: ‘I. Quels sont les principaux meubles d’une maison?’ Then I put the answer on the next line: ' I. Les principaux meubles d’une maison sont les tables, les chaises, les lits, les commodes, et ... ’ I tried to remember the French word for some other kind of furniture. I went over in my mind all the furniture in my bedroom and the living room at home, but that did n’t help any. Then I thought of looking through my Larousse till I found a picture of a sideboard or a sofa. But I decided that would take too long. Finally I scratched out the et and wrote it in between les lits and les commodes, smudging ink on the final comma to make it look like a period.

After answering a few more questions, I stopped writing to calculate my progress. There were twenty-four questions in all, and I had finished six — exactly a quarter of the whole number. I decided that if I divided the remaining eighteen questions into groups of six, with rests between the groups, the time might pass more quickly.

Three fourths of the lesson still remained to be done. I wished that I were half finished, instead of only a fourth. It was always much easier after the halfway mark had been reached. Then it was like coasting downhill after the long pull up the slope. I began to write again, pausing after each question to determine what fraction of the whole I had completed. Seven twentyfourths. Eight twenty-fourths. But that could be reduced to four twelfths and still further to one third. Nine twenty-fourths. But that equaled three eighths. I wondered how it would feel when I had come to twenty-three twenty-fourths. It was just like Christmas Eve — lying in bed, too excited to try to sleep, wondering if the morning would ever come and what it would feel like to be opening the stockings. I happened to think that there would n’t be any stockings that year, nor many presents either. But then Mother would surely send me some money, and I could gorge on méringues glacées at the confiserie for weeks.

I never seemed to have enough money when the day came for the moyens to go en ville. Being a moyen, I had only two francs a week as allowance, and the amendes, which Monsieur Larue was always giving me, reduced that sum to almost nothing. I hated Monsieur Larue. He was the master at my table in the dining room, and he took the greatest delight in ‘riding’ me. Again and again he would say, ‘ Dis donc, Lowgleen, sais-tu que tous les Américains sont bêtes?’ If I flared up, he would go on, ‘ Mais oui, je sais bien qu’ils sont tous des singes. V’yons c’qu’ils font. Ils n’aiment rien que l’argent.’ And if I said nothing he would leer mockingly at me, saying, ‘Oui, j’ vois bien que tu le sais.’ Except for these attempts at humor, Monsieur Larue seldom spoke at the table. When not eating, he read the Lausanne Gazette and paid no attention to what was going on about him. His method of discipline was very simple; periodically he would emerge from behind the Gazette and announce, ' Un franc d’amende pour tout le monde. Je ne veux plus voir de bêtises.’ He would take down all our names in his notebook and then continue his reading.

When I had answered the twelfth question, I stopped work to look about me, after having first made sure that Monsieur Velleumier was not watching me. Almost everyone seemed to be studying except Lieutenant, the Belgian. He was reading a book, which was artlessly concealed beneath his grammaire. I did n’t like Lieutenant very well, and I hoped Monsieur Velleumier would catch him reading. He was dirty, like all the other Belgians. He never took a shower, as far as I knew, and his sallow skin was oily. Every night he rubbed grease into his hair, and the pillow was a dirty brown color where his head had lain. If Monsieur Velleumier should catch him reading, he would probably be consigné for two or three afternoons.

In the seat behind Lieutenant was Metternich. He was a grandson of the great Prince Metternich, and as a result had a big ‘drag’ with all the masters. Now he was embellishing the pages of his grammaire. As he sat near me, I could see plainly what he was doing. On each capital letter having a circular shape, such as O or P, he drew the features of a face. Then he added legs and arms to the letter. I should not have dared draw pictures in my grammaire, but it was safe enough for Metternich to do so. Monsieur Jacquet would only laugh if he should see them.

In my curiosity I had forgotten Monsieur Velleumier. I started as he addressed me: ‘Lowgleen, n’as-tu rien afaire?’

‘Oh, oui, monsieur, j’ai encore mon exercice afaire,’ I replied hastily.

‘Vas-y alors. Si non, je te don’rai des verbes irreguliers à conjuguer.’

I set to work again. The questions were easier now, definitions for the most part. ‘À quoi sert le banc? À quoi sert le poêle?’ Suddenly I realized that here were all the words necessary for the first question. I thought of writing them in between the lines, but decided it was too much trouble. I did n’t care whether I got good marks, anyway. What good did it do to get good marks? Nobody seemed to care how hard I worked. It was n’t at all like Arnold, back in Pittsburgh, where I had won a gold medal for scholarship. Thinking of Arnold made me feel homesick again. Why had I ever asked to be sent away to school? Soon I was pitying myself thoroughly. I almost cried. Staring blankly out of the window, I saw the darkness suddenly streaked with a long yellow line. It was a lighted train running along the tracks beyond the terrain de sport. Probably it was going to Paris. And from Paris another train would go to Le Havre. And from Le Havre . . . This time I did cry, or my vision at least became blurred. After the train had passed, I sat for some time gazing out the window, seeing nothing.

But I finally roused myself. It was n’t so bad as I made it seem to myself. For étude would soon be over and I could go to bed. It would be dark and quiet in my room. It would be warm and comfortable in bed. I wondered what I should think about then. Maybe I would do Big Springs. But then I decided against that. I had done Big Springs so often. It was beginning to get dull — going over the improvements that I would make in the place, the dogs and rabbits I would raise, the trees I would clear away to make new fields, and planning how I would marry some nice girl (only one with yellow hair would do), go to church every Sunday, and become rich and respected.

Perhaps something more romantic would be better for that night. I might try being a young Colonial officer in the Revolution or a Scottish chieftain fighting for Bonnie Prince Charlie. Either of those would be exciting.

But before I had reached a decision Monsieur Velleumier got up and said, ’Alors, c’est fini.’

All the eyes were lifted from the desk tops.

’Remettez vos livres.’

A rustling, a shuffling, and a creaking of desk lids.

‘À vos chambres. Mais sans bruit.’

A scraping of chairs and the clatter of running feet on the stone floor of the corridor.

JAMES LAUGHLIN

The Choate School, Connecticut

Dudley Fitts, Teacher