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fickle？ I have got you now； my friend！ You have fallen into the lion's den；
and so unexpectedly； in good sooth； that the astonished old lion does not
know what to do with his prey。 But come now； old lion！ do not act like an
idiot！ Is it not possible that you were an idiot？ If you are not one now； you
certainly were one！ You were a fool to have been listening to Monsieur
Gelis at the foot of the statue of Marguerite de Valois； you were doubly a
fool to have heard what he said； and you were trebly a fool not to have
forgotten what it would have been much better never to have heard。〃
Having thus scolded the old lion； I exhorted him to show clemency。 He
did not appear to require much coaxing； and gradually became so good…
natured that he had some difficulty in restraining himself from bursting
out into joyous roarings。 From the way in which I had read my colleague's
letter one might have supposed me a man who did not know his alphabet。 I
took a long while to read it； and Monsieur Gelis might have become very
tired under different circumstances； but he was watching Jeanne； and
endured the trial with exemplary patience。 Jeanne occasionally turned her
face in our direction。 Well you could not expect a person to remain
perfectly motionless； could you？ Mademoiselle Prefere was arranging her
curls； and her bosom occasionally swelled with little sighs。 It may be
observed that I have myself often been honoured with those little sighs。
〃Monsieur；〃 I said； as I folded up the letter； 〃I shall be very happy to
be of any service to you。 You are occupied with researches in which I
myself have always felt a very lively interest。 I have done all that lay in
my power。 I know； as you doand still better than you can knowhow
much there remains to do。 The manuscript you asked for is at your
disposal； you may take it home with you； but it is not a manuscript of the
smallest kind； and I am afraid…〃
〃Oh； Monsieur；〃 said Gelis； 〃big books have never been able to make
me afraid of them。〃
I begged the young man to wait for me； and I went into the next room
to get the Register； which I could not find at first； and which I almost
despaired of finding； as I discerned； from certain familiar signs； that
Therese had been setting the room in order。 But the Register was so big
and so heavy that； luckily for me； Therese had not been able to put it in
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order as she had doubtless wished to do。 I could scarcely lift it up myself；
and I had the pleasure of finding it quite as heavy as I could have hoped。
〃Wait； my boy；〃 I said； with a smile which must have been very
sarcastic〃wait！ I am going to give you something to do which will break
your arms first； and afterwards your head。 That will be the first vengeance
of Sylvestre Bonnard。 Later on we shall see what else there is to be done。〃
When I returned to the City of Books I heard Monsieur Gelis and
Mademoiselle Jeanne chattingchatting together； if you please！ as if they
were the best friends in the world。 Mademoiselle Prefere； being full of
decorum； did not say anything； but the other two were chatting like birds。
And what about？ About the blond tint used by Venetian painters！ Yes；
about the 〃Venetian blond。〃 That little serpent of a Gelis was telling
Jeanne the secret of the dye with which； according to the best authorities；
the women of Titian and of Veronese tinted their hair。 And Mademoiselle
Jeanne was expressing her opinion very prettily about the honey tint and
the golden tint。 I understood that that scamp of a Vecellio was responsible…
…that they had been bending over the book together； and that they had been
admiring either that Doge's wife we had been looking at awhile before； or
some other patrician woman of Venice。
Never mind！ I appeared with my enormous old book； thinking that
Gelis was going to make a grimace。 It was as much as one could have
asked a porter to carry； and my arms were stiff merely with lifting it。 But
the young man caught it up like a feather； and slipped it under his arm
with a smile。 Then he thanked me with that sort of brevity which I like；
reminded me that he had need of my advice； and； having made an
appointment to meet me another day； took his departure after bowing to us
with the most perfect self…possession conceivable。
〃He seems quite a decent lad；〃 I said。
Jeanne turned over a few more pages of Vecellio； and made no answer。
〃Aha！〃 I thought to myself。。。。 And then we went to Saint…Cloud。
September…December。
The regularity with which visit succeeded visit to the old man's house
thereafter made me feel very grateful to Mademoiselle Prefere； who
succeeded at last in winning her right to occupy a special corner in the
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City of Books。 She now says 〃MY chair；〃 〃MY footstool；〃 〃MY pigeon
hole。〃 Her pigeon hole is really a small shelf properly belonging to the
poets of La Champagne； whom she expelled therefrom in order to obtain a
lodging for her work…bag。 She is very amiable； and I must really be a
monster not to like her。 I can only endure herin the severest signification
of the word。 But what would one not endure for Jeanne's sake？ Her
presence lends to the City of Books a charm which seems to hover about it
even after she has gone。 She is very ignorant； but she is so finely gifted
that whenever I show her anything beautiful I am astounded to find that I
had never really seen it before； and that it is she who makes me see it。 I
have found it impossible so far to make her follow some of my ideas； but I
have often found pleasure in following the whimsical and delicate course
of her own。
A more practical man than I would attempt to teach her to make
herself useful； but is not the capacity of being amiable a useful think in life？
Without being pretty； she charms； and the power to charm is perhaps； after
all； worth quite as much as the ability to darn stockings。 Furthermore； I am
not immortal； and I doubt whether she will have become very old when
my notary （who is not Maitre Mouche） shall read to her a certain paper
which I signed a little while ago。
I do not wish that any one except myself should provide for her； and
give her her dowry。 I am not； however； very rich； and the paternal
inheritance did not gain bulk in my hands。 One does not accumulate
money by poring over old texts。 But my booksat the price which such
noble merchandise fetches to…dayare worth something。 Why； on that
shelf there are some poets of the sixteenth century for which bankers
would bid against princes！ And I think that those 〃Heures〃 of Simon
Vostre would not be readily overlooked at the Hotel Sylvestre any more
than would those Preces Piae compiled for the use of