honor of, was only to buy her wedding suit.

My indignation may easily be conceived; I shall not attempt to describe
it. In this heroic fury, I swore never more to see the perfidious girl,
supposing it the greatest punishment that could be inflicted on her.
This, however, did not occasion her death, for twenty years after, while
on a visit to my father, being on the lake, I asked who those ladies were
in a boat not far from ours. "What!" said my father smiling, "does not
your heart inform you? It is your former flame, it is Madame Christin,
or, if you please, Miss Vulson." I started at the almost forgotten name,
and instantly ordered the waterman to turn off, not judging it worth
while to be perjured, however favorable the opportunity for revenge, in
renewing a dispute of twenty years past, with a woman of forty.

Thus, before my future destination was determined, did I fool away the
most precious moments of my youth. After deliberating a long time on the
bent of my natural inclination, they resolved to dispose of me in a
manner the most repugnant to them. I was sent to Mr. Masseron, the City
Register, to learn (according to the expression of my uncle Bernard) the
thriving occupation of a scraper. This nickname was inconceivably
displeasing to me, and I promised myself but little satisfaction in the
prospect of heaping up money by a mean employment. The assiduity and
subjection required, completed my disgust, and I never set foot in the
office without feeling a kind of horror, which every day gained fresh
strength.

Mr. Masseron, who was not better pleased with my abilities than I was
with the employment, treated me with disdain, incessantly upbraiding me
with being a fool and blockhead, not forgetting to repeat, that my uncle
had assured him I was a knowing one, though he could not find that I knew
anything. That he had promised to furnish him with a sprightly boy, but
had, in truth, sent him an ass. To conclude, I was turned out of the
registry, with the additional ignominy of being pronounced a fool by all
Mr. Masseron's clerks, and fit only to handle a file.

My vocation thus determined, I was bound apprentice; not, however, to a
watchmaker, but to an engraver, and I had been so completely humiliated
by the contempt of the register, that I submitted without a murmur. My
master, whose name was M. Ducommon, was a young man of a very violent and
boorish character, who contrived in a short time to tarnish