ompelling than any magnificence
of adornment.... Her galley entered the Cydnus... the poop of
the vessel shone resplendent with gold, the sails were of Tyrian
purple, the oars of silver._"

Then the seductive names of _Nereids, flutes, perfumes_. The
hot blood flooded his cheeks. The woman who for him was the sole
and only incarnation of the whole race of womankind throughout the
ages rose before his mental sight with a surprising clearness;
every hair of his body stood on end in an agonizing spasm of
desire, and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands. The
vision caused him an unspeakable yet delicious pain--Gabrielle
in a loose _peignoir_ at a small, daintily ordered table gay
with flowers and glasses. He saw it all quite clearly; his gaze
searched every fold of the soft material that covered her bosom
and rose and fell at each breath she drew. Face and neck and
lively hands had a surprisingly brilliant yet so natural a sheen
that they exhaled amorous invitation as if they had been verily
of flesh and blood. The superb moulding of the lips, pouting
like a ripe mulberry, and the exquisite grain of the skin were
manifest--treasures such as men risk death and crime to win.
It was the actress, in fine, seen by the two eyes which of all
eyes in the whole world had learned to see her best. She was not
alone; a man was looking at her with a penetrating intensity as
he filled her glass. They were straining one towards the other.
Jean could not restrain his sobs. Suddenly he seemed to be falling
from the top of a high tower. The Superintendent of Studies was
standing in front of him and saying:

"Monsieur Servien, will you see about punishing that boy Laboriette,
who is emptying his leavings in his neighbour's pocket?"

XXIII

The Superintendent, with his large, flat face and the sly ways
of a peasant turned monk, was a constant thorn in Jean's side.
"_Be firm, be firm, sir_," was his parable every day, and
he never missed an opportunity of doing the usher an ill turn
with the Director.

The early days of Jean's servitude had slipped by in an enervating
monotony. With his quiet ways, tactful temper and air of kindly
aloofness, he was popular with the more sensible boys, while
the others left him in peace, as he did them. But there was one
exception; Henri de Grizolles, a handsome young savage, proud
of his aristocratic name, which he scribbled in big letters on
his light trousers, and overjoyed at the chanc