dy begun without you."

Franz seated himself at his desk. Only then, his fear gone, he noticed
that the master had on his best green frock coat, his finely plaited
shirt and the black silk cap that he never wore except on a day when
there were prizes given out in school. All the children were
extraordinarily quiet. But what surprised Franz the most was to see at
the back of the room, seated on the benches which were ordinarily
empty, the people of the village. There was an old soldier with his
tri-colored flag, the old mayor of the town, the postman, and many
others. Everyone seemed sad. And the old soldier had a spelling book,
ragged on the edges, that he held open on his knees, as he followed
the pages through his great spectacles.

As little Franz watched all this, astonished, the school-master rose
from his chair, and in the same grave, soft voice in which he had
spoken to the boy, he said,

"My children, this is the last time that I shall teach your class. The
order has come from Berlin that no language but German shall be taught
in the schools of Alsace and Lorraine. Your new master arrives
to-morrow. To-day, you will have your last lesson in French. I pray
that you will be very attentive."

Franz's last lesson in French! And he could not write it without
mistakes! He remembered all the time that he had wasted, the lessons
he had missed in hunting for birds' nests, or skating on the river. He
thought of his books that would remind him always now, of his
laziness--his grammar, his history, a present from his friend, the
school-master, from whom he must part now with so much pain. In the
midst of these thoughts, Franz heard his name called. It was his turn
to recite.

He would have given a great deal to be able to recite the famous order
of the participles, without a mistake, to give them clearly, and
without a fault. But he confused them at the first word, and remained
standing beside his desk, his heart trembling, not daring to raise his
head. He heard the school-master speaking to him,

"I am not going to rebuke you, little Franz. You are already punished.
Every day you have said to yourself, 'Bah, I have plenty of time;
to-morrow I will study.'"

"Ah, that has been the great fault in our Alsace, that of always
putting off learning until another day. In the meantime, all the world
has been quite right in saying of us, 'How is it that you pretend to
be French, and yet are not able to read and write your o