ures;
the universe was present. Blondeau was grieved. I said to myself:
'Blondeau, my love, you will not get the very smallest sort of an
execution to-day.' All at once Blondeau calls, 'Marius Pontmercy!' No
one answers. Blondeau, filled with hope, repeats more loudly: 'Marius
Pontmercy!' And he takes his pen. Monsieur, I have bowels of compassion.
I said to myself hastily: 'Here's a brave fellow who is going to get
scratched out. Attention. Here is a veritable mortal who is not exact.
He's not a good student. Here is none of your heavy-sides, a student who
studies, a greenhorn pedant, strong on letters, theology, science, and
sapience, one of those dull wits cut by the square; a pin by profession.
He is an honorable idler who lounges, who practises country jaunts, who
cultivates the grisette, who pays court to the fair sex, who is at
this very moment, perhaps, with my mistress. Let us save him. Death to
Blondeau!' At that moment, Blondeau dipped his pen in, all black with
erasures in the ink, cast his yellow eyes round the audience room, and
repeated for the third time: 'Marius Pontmercy!' I replied: 'Present!'
This is why you were not crossed off."

"Monsieur!--" said Marius.

"And why I was," added Laigle de Meaux.

"I do not understand you," said Marius.

Laigle resumed:--

"Nothing is more simple. I was close to the desk to reply, and close
to the door for the purpose of flight. The professor gazed at me with a
certain intensity. All of a sudden, Blondeau, who must be the malicious
nose alluded to by Boileau, skipped to the letter L. L is my letter. I
am from Meaux, and my name is Lesgle."

"L'Aigle!" interrupted Marius, "what fine name!"

"Monsieur, Blondeau came to this fine name, and called: 'Laigle!' I
reply: 'Present!' Then Blondeau gazes at me, with the gentleness of a
tiger, and says to me: 'If you are Pontmercy, you are not Laigle.' A
phrase which has a disobliging air for you, but which was lugubrious
only for me. That said, he crossed me off."

Marius exclaimed:--

"I am mortified, sir--"

"First of all," interposed Laigle, "I demand permission to embalm
Blondeau in a few phrases of deeply felt eulogium. I will assume that he
is dead. There will be no great change required in his gauntness, in
his pallor, in his coldness, and in his smell. And I say: 'Erudimini
qui judicatis terram. Here lies Blondeau, Blondeau the Nose, Blondeau
Nasica, the ox of discipline, bos disciplinae, the bloodhound o