f the formidable science. Good fortune procured me
my first lesson in algebra, a lesson given and not received, of course.

A young man of about my own age came to me and asked me to teach him
algebra. He was preparing for his examination as a civil engineer; and
he came to me because, ingenuous youth that he was, he took me for
a well of learning. The guileless applicant was very far out in his
reckoning.

His request gave me a shock of surprise, which was forthwith repressed
on reflection: 'I give algebra lessons?' said I to myself. 'It would be
madness: I don't know anything about the subject!'

And I left it at that for a moment or two, thinking hard, drawn now
this way, now that with indecision: 'Shall I accept? Shall I refuse?'
continued the inner voice.

Pooh, let's accept! An heroic method of learning to swim is to
leap boldly into the sea. Let us hurl ourselves head first into the
algebraical gulf; and perhaps the imminent danger of drowning will call
forth efforts capable of bringing me to land. I know nothing of what
he wants. It makes no difference: let's go ahead and plunge into the
mystery. I shall learn by teaching.

It was a fine courage that drove me full tilt into a province which I
had not yet thought of entering. My twenty-year-old confidence was an
incomparable lever.

'Very well,' I replied. 'Come the day after tomorrow, at five, and we'll
begin.'

This twenty-four hours' delay concealed a plan. It secured me the
respite of a day, the blessed Thursday, which would give me time to
collect my forces.

Thursday comes. The sky is gray and cold. In this horrid weather, a
grate well filled with coke has its charms. Let's warm ourselves and
think.

Well, my boy, you've landed yourself in a nice predicament! How will
you manage tomorrow? With a book, plodding all through the night, if
necessary, you might scrape up something resembling a lesson, just
enough to fill the dread hour more or less. Then you could see about the
next: sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. But you haven't the
book. And it's no use running out to the bookshop. Algebraical treatises
are not current wares. You'll have to send for one, which will take
a fortnight at least. And I've promised for tomorrow, for tomorrow
certain! Another argument and one that admits of no reply: funds are
low; my last pecuniary resources lie in the corner of a drawer. I count
the money: it amounts to twelve sous, which is not enough.