I was then fifteen. When examined as to
my capacity, I, who was in the rhetoric class at Pont-le-Voy, was
pronounced worthy of the third class. The sufferings I had endured in my
family and in school were continued under another form during my stay
at the Lepitre Academy. My father gave me no money; I was to be fed,
clothed, and stuffed with Latin and Greek, for a sum agreed on. During
my school life I came in contact with over a thousand comrades; but I
never met with such an instance of neglect and indifference as mine.
Monsieur Lepitre, who was fanatically attached to the Bourbons, had had
relations with my father at the time when all devoted royalists were
endeavoring to bring about the escape of Marie Antoinette from the
Temple. They had lately renewed acquaintance; and Monsieur Lepitre
thought himself obliged to repair my father's oversight, and to give me
a small sum monthly. But not being authorized to do so, the amount was
small indeed.

The Lepitre establishment was in the old Joyeuse mansion where, as in
all seignorial houses, there was a porter's lodge. During a recess,
which preceded the hour when the man-of-all-work took us to the
Charlemagne Lyceum, the well-to-do pupils used to breakfast with the
porter, named Doisy. Monsieur Lepitre was either ignorant of the fact or
he connived at this arrangement with Doisy, a regular smuggler whom it
was the pupils' interest to protect,--he being the secret guardian
of their pranks, the safe confidant of their late returns and their
intermediary for obtaining forbidden books. Breakfast on a cup of
"cafe-au-lait" is an aristocratic habit, explained by the high prices
to which colonial products rose under Napoleon. If the use of sugar
and coffee was a luxury to our parents, with us it was the sign of
self-conscious superiority. Doisy gave credit, for he reckoned on the
sisters and aunts of the pupils, who made it a point of honor to pay
their debts. I resisted the blandishments of his place for a long time.
If my judges knew the strength of its seduction, the heroic efforts I
made after stoicism, the repressed desires of my long resistance, they
would pardon my final overthrow. But, child as I was, could I have the
grandeur of soul that scorns the scorn of others? Moreover, I may have
felt the promptings of several social vices whose power was increased by
my longings.

About the end of the second year my father and mother came to Paris. My
brother had written me th