ing
to gain from a residence in the capital, but, on the contrary, would run
a risk of losing his intense originality and the freshness of his genius.

E. LAVISSE
de l'Academie Francaise.

THE INK-STAIN

BOOK 1.

CHAPTER I

THE ACCIDENT

All I have to record of the first twenty-three years of my life is the
enumeration of them. A simple bead-roll is enough; it represents their
family likeness and family monotony.

I lost my parents when I was very young. I can hardly recall their faces;
and I should keep no memories of La Chatre, our home, had I not been
brought up quite close to it. It was sold, however, and lost to me, like
all the rest. Yes, fate is hard, sometimes. I was born at La Chatre; the
college of La Chatre absorbed eighteen years of my life. Our head master
used to remark that college is a second home; whereby I have always
fancied he did some injustice to the first.

My school-days were hardly over when my uncle and guardian, M. Brutus
Mouillard, solicitor, of Bourges, packed me off to Paris to go through my
law course. I took three years over it: At the end of that time, just
eighteen months ago, I became a licentiate, and "in the said
capacity"--as my uncle would say took an oath that transformed me into a
probationary barrister. Every Monday, regularly, I go to sign my name
among many others on an attendance list, and thereby, it appears, I am
establishing a claim upon the confidence of the widow and the orphan.

In the intervals of my legal studies I have succeeded in taking my Arts
Degree. At present I am seeking that of Doctor of Law. My examinations
have been passed meritoriously, but without brilliance; my tastes run too
much after letters. My professor, M. Flamaran, once told me the truth of
the matter: "Law, young man, is a jealous mistress; she allows no divided
affection." Are my affections divided? I think not, and I certainly do
not confess any such thing to M. Mouillard, who has not yet forgotten
what he calls "that freak" of a Degree in Arts. He builds some hopes upon
me, and, in return, it is natural that I should build a few upon him.

Really, that sums up all my past: two certificates! A third diploma in
prospect and an uncle to leave me his money--that is my future. Can
anything more commonplace be imagined?

I may add that I never felt any temptation at all to put these things on
record until to-day, the tenth of December,