one of the colleges, but after a while appeared in the lecture-room
quite drunk and lost his employment. The same thing happened in other
towns, till at last he drifted to distant Maraisfontein, where his
employer tolerated his weakness for the sake of the intellectual
companionship for which something in his own nature seemed to crave.
Also, he looked upon him as a compatriot in distress, and a great bond
of union between them was their mutual and virulent hatred of England
and the English, which in the case of Monsieur Leblanc, who in his youth
had fought at Waterloo and been acquainted with the great Emperor, was
not altogether unnatural.

Henri Marais's case was different, but of that I shall have more to say
later.

"Ah, Marie," said her father, speaking in Dutch, "so you have found him
at last," and he nodded towards me, adding: "You should be flattered,
little man. Look you, this missie has been sitting for two hours in
the sun waiting for you, although I told her you would not arrive
much before ten o'clock, as your father the predicant said you would
breakfast before you started. Well, it is natural, for she is lonely
here, and you are of an age, although of a different race"; and his face
darkened as he spoke the words.

"Father," answered Marie, whose blushes I could see even in the shadow
of her cap, "I was not sitting in the sun, but under the shade of a
peach tree. Also, I was working out the sums that Monsieur Leblanc set
me on my slate. See, here they are," and she held up the slate, which
was covered with figures, somewhat smudged, it is true, by the rubbing
of my stiff hair and of her cap.

Then Monsieur Leblanc broke in, speaking in French, of which, as it
chanced I understood the sense, for my father had grounded me in that
tongue, and I am naturally quick at modern languages. At any rate, I
made out that he was asking if I was the little "cochon d'anglais," or
English pig, whom for his sins he had to teach. He added that he judged
I must be, as my hair stuck up on my head--I had taken off my hat out of
politeness--as it naturally would do on a pig's back.

This was too much for me, so, before either of the others could speak, I
answered in Dutch, for rage made me eloquent and bold:

"Yes, I am he; but, mynheer, if you are to be my master, I hope you will
not call the English pigs any more to me."

"Indeed, gamin" (that is, little scamp), "and pray, what will happen if
I am so bold as to rep