sk you to be very
attentive."

These words quite upset me. Ah, the wretches! this then was what they
had posted up at the town hall.

My last lesson in French!

And I who hardly knew how to write. I should never learn then! I must
stop where I was! How I longed now for the wasted time, for the
classes when I played truant to go birds'-nesting, or to slide on the
Saar! The books which I was used to find so wearisome, so heavy to
carry--my grammar, my history--now seemed to me old friends whom I was
very sorry to part with. The same with M. Hamel. The idea that he was
going away, that I should never see him again, made me forget the
punishment and the raps with the ruler.

Poor man!

It was in honor of this last class that he had put on his Sunday
clothes, and now I understood why the elders of the village had come
and seated themselves in the schoolroom. That meant that they were
grieved not to have come oftener to the school. It was a sort of way
of thanking our master for his forty years of good service, and of
showing their respect for their country that was being taken from them.

I had come as far as this in my reflections when I heard my name
called. It was my turn to recite. What would I not have given to have
been able to say right through that famous rule of the participles,
quite loud and very clear, without a stumble; but I bungled at the
first word, and stopped short, balancing myself on my bench, with
bursting heart, not daring to raise my head. I heard M. Hamel speak to
me:--

"I shall not scold thee, my little Franz, thou must be punished enough
without that. See how it is. Every day one says, 'Bah! There is time
enough. I shall learn tomorrow.' And then see what happens. Ah! that
has been the great mistake of our Alsace, always to defer its lesson
until tomorrow. Now those folk have a right to say to us, 'What! you
pretend to be French and you cannot even speak or write your language!'
In all that, my poor Franz, it is not only thou that art guilty. We
must all bear our full share in the blame. Your parents have not cared
enough to have you taught. They liked better to send you to work on
the land or at the factory to gain a few more pence. And I too, have I
nothing to reproach myself with? Have I not often made you water my
garden instead of learning your lessons? And when I wanted to fish for
trout, did I ever hesitate to dismiss you?"

Then from one thing to another