All well, eh? Even without
me? You do very well without your old master, do you not?"

I was on the point of saying "no"; he interrupted me.

"Come, come, I know that you do not hate me!" and he heaved a sigh.

I glanced at some photographs fastened to the wall.

"Do you see?" he said to me. "All of them are of boys who gave me their
photographs more than twenty years ago. They were good boys. These are
my souvenirs. When I die, my last glance will be at them; at those
roguish urchins among whom my life has been passed. You will give me
your portrait, also, will you not, when you have finished the elementary
course?" Then he took an orange from his nightstand, and put it in my
hand.

"I have nothing else to give you," he said; "it is the gift of a sick
man."

I looked at it, and my heart was sad; I know not why.

"Attend to me," he began again. "I hope to get over this; but if I
should not recover, see that you strengthen yourself in arithmetic,
which is your weak point; make an effort. It is merely a question of a
first effort: because sometimes there is no lack of aptitude; there is
merely an absence of a fixed purpose--of stability, as it is called."

But in the meantime he was breathing hard; and it was evident that he
was suffering.

"I am feverish," he sighed; "I am half gone; I beseech you, therefore,
apply yourself to arithmetic, to problems. If you don't succeed at
first, rest a little and begin afresh. And press forward, but quietly
without fagging yourself, without straining your mind. Go! My respects
to your mamma. And do not mount these stairs again. We shall see each
other again in school. And if we do not, you must now and then call to
mind your master of the third grade, who was fond of you."

I felt inclined to cry at these words.

"Bend down your head," he said to me.

I bent my head to his pillow; he kissed my hair. Then he said to me,
"Go!" and turned his face towards the wall. And I flew down the stairs;
for I longed to embrace my mother.

THE STREET.

Saturday, 25th.

I was watching you from the window this afternoon, when you were on
your way home from the master's; you came in collision with a
woman. Take more heed to your manner of walking in the street.
There are duties to be fulfilled even there. If you keep your steps
and gestures within bounds in a private house, why should you not
do the same in the street, which is everybody's house. R