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the good old man with gentleness。〃 This answer seems admirable from the
pen of Ambroise Pare； but even had it been written by a village bonesetter；
grown grey in his calling； and mocked by some young stripling； it would
still be worthy of all praise。
It might perhaps seem that my memory of the incident had been kept
alive only by a base feeling of resentment。 I thought so myself at first； and
reproached myself for thus dwelling on the saying of a boy who could not
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yet know the meaning of his own words。 But my reflections on this subject
subsequently took a better course： that is why I now note them down in
my diary。 I remembered that one day when I was twenty years old （that
was more than half a century ago） I was walking about in that very same
garden of the Luxembourg with some comrades。 We were talking about
our old professors； and one of us happened to name Monsieur Petit…Radel；
an estimable and learned man； who was the first to throw some light upon
the origins of early Etruscan civilisation； but who had been unfortunate
enough to prepare a chronological table of the lovers of Helen。 We all
laughed a great deal about that chronological table； and I cried out； 〃Petit…
Radel is an ass； not in three letters； but in twelve whole volumes！〃
This foolish speech of my adolescence was uttered too lightly to be a
weight on my conscience as an old man。 May God kindly prove to me
some day that I never used an less innocent shaft of speech in the battle of
life！ But I now ask myself whether I really never wrote； at any time in my
life； something quite as unconsciously absurd as the chronological table of
the lovers of Helen。 The progress of science renders useless the very books
which have been the greatest aids to that progress。 As those works are no
longer useful； modern youth is naturally inclined to believe they never had
any value； it despises them； and ridicules them if they happen to contain
any superannuated opinion whatever。 That is why； in my twentieth year； I
amused myself at the expense of Monsieur Petit…Radel and his
chronological table； and that was why； the other day； at the Luxembourg；
my young and irreverent friend。。。
〃Rentre en toi…meme； Octave； et cesse de te plaindre。 Quoi！ tu veux
qu'on t'epargne et n'as rien epargne！〃 ＇ 〃Look into thyself； Octavius； and
cease complaining。 What！ thou wouldst be spared； and thou thyself hast
spared none！〃＇
June 6。
It was the first Thursday in June。 I shut up my books and took my
leave of the holy abbot Droctoveus； who； being now in the enjoyment of
celestial bliss； cannot feel very impatient to behold his name and works
glorified on earth through the humble compilation being prepared by my
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hands。 Must I confess it？ That mallow…plant I saw visited by a bee the
other day has been occupying my thoughts much more than all the ancient
abbots who ever bore croisers or wore mitres。 There is in one of Sprengel's
books which I read in my youth； at that time when I used to read in my
youth； at that time when I used to read anything and everything； some
ideas about 〃the loves of flowers〃 which now return to memory after
having been forgotten for half a century； and which to…day interest me so
much that I regret not to have devoted the humble capacities of my mind
to the study of insects and of plants。
And only awhile ago my housekeeper surprised me at the kitchen
window； in the act of examining some wallflowers through a magnifying…
glass。。。。
It was while looking for my cravat that I made these reflections。 But
after searching to no purpose in a great number of drawers； I found myself
obliged； after all； to have recourse to my housekeeper。 Therese came
limping in。
〃Monsieur；〃 she said； 〃you ought to have told me you were going out；
and I would have given you your cravat！〃
〃But Therese；〃 I replied； 〃would it not be a great deal better to put in
some place where I could find it without your help？〃
Therese did not deign to answer me。
Therese no longer allows me to arrange anything。 I cannot even have a
handkerchief without asking her for it； and as she is deaf； crippled； and；
what is worse； beginning to lose her memory； I languish in perpetual
destitution。 But she exercises her domestic authority with such quiet pride
that I do not feel the courage to attempt a coup d'etat against her
government。
〃My cravat！ Therese！do you hear？my cravat！ if you drive me wild
like this with your slow ways； it will not be a cravat I shall need； but a
rope to hang myself！〃
〃You must be in a very great hurry； Monsieur；〃 replied Therese。 〃Your
cravat is not lost。 Nothing is ever lost in this house； because I have charge
of everything。 But please allow me the time at least to find it。〃
〃Yet here；〃 I thought to myself〃here is the result of half a century of
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devotedness and self…sacrifice！。。。 Ah！ if by any happy chance this
inexorable Therese had once in her whole life； only once； failed in her
duty as a servantif she had ever been at fault for one single instant； she
could never have assumed this inflexible authority over me； and I should
at least have the courage to resist her。 But how can one resist virtue？ The
people who have no weaknesses are terrible； there is no way of taking
advantage of them。 Just look at Therese； for example； she has not a single
fault for which you can blame her！ She has no doubt of herself； nor of God；
nor of the world。 She is the valiant woman； the wise virgin of Scripture；
others may know nothing about her； but I know her worth。 In my fancy I
always see her carrying a lamp； a humble kitchen lamp； illuminating the
beams of some rustic roofa lamp which will never go out while
suspended from that meagre arm of hers； scraggy and strong as a vine…
branch。
〃Therese； my cravat！ Don't you know； wretched woman； that to…day is
the first Thursday in June； and that Mademoiselle Jeanne will be waiting
for me？ The schoolmistress has certainly had the parlour floor vigorously
waxed： I am sure one can look at oneself in it now； and it will be quite a
consolation for me when I slip and break my old bones upon itwhich is
sure to happen sooner or laterto see my rueful countenance reflected in it
as in a looking…glass。 Then taking for my model that amiable and
admirable hero whose image is carved upon the handle of Uncle Victor's
walking…stick； I will control myself so as not to make too ugly a grimace。。。。
See what a splendid sun！ The quays are all gilded by it； and the Seine
smiles in countless little flashing wrinkles。 The city is gold： a dust…haze；
blonde and gold…toned as a woman's hair； floats above its beautiful
contours。。。。 Therese； my cravat！。。。 Ah！ I can now comprehend the wisdom
of that old Chrysal who used to keep his neckbands in a big Plutarch。
Hereafter I shall follow his example