ome
frontispiece of one of Lebel's prayer-books.

This was the gravest crisis in my life. The young Breton does not bear
transplanting. The keen moral repulsion which I felt, superadded to
a complete change in my habits and mode of life, brought on a very
severe attack of home-sickness. The confinement to the college was
intolerable. The remembrance of the free and happy life which I had
hitherto led with my mother went to my very heart. I was not the only
sufferer. M. Dupanloup had not calculated all the consequences of
his policy. Imperious as a military commander, he did not take into
account the deaths and casualties which occurred among his young
recruits. We confided our sorrows to one another. My most intimate
friend, a young man from Coutances, if I remember right, who had been,
transported like myself from a happy home, brooded in solitary grief
over the change and died. The natives of Savoy were even less easily
acclimatised. One of them, who was rather my senior, confessed to me
that every evening he calculated the distance from his dormitory on
the third floor to the pavement in the street below. I fell ill, and
to all appearances was not likely to recover. The melancholy to which
Bretons are so subject took hold of me. The memories of the last notes
of the vesper bell which I had heard pealing over our dear hills, and
of the last sunset upon our peaceful plains, pricked me like pointed
darts.

According to every rule of medicine I ought to have died; and it is
perhaps a pity that I did not. Two friends whom I brought with me from
Brittany, in the following year gave this clear proof of fidelity.
They could not accustom themselves to this new world, and they left
it. I sometimes think that the Breton part of me did die; the
Gascon, unfortunately, found sufficient reason for living! The latter
discovered, too, that this new world was a very curious one, and was
well worth clinging to. It was to him who had put me to this severe
test that I owed my escape from death. I am indebted to M. Dupanloup
for two things: for having brought me to Paris, and for having saved
me from dying when I got there. He naturally did not concern himself
much about me at first. The most eagerly sought after priest in Paris,
with an establishment of two hundred students to superintend or rather
to found, could not be expected to take any deep personal interest in
an obscure youth. A peculiar incident formed a bond between us. The