e blot, too, for
that matter. I never saw such a blot! Will you, please, leave me your
Christian name, surname, profession, and address?"

I wrote down, "Fabien Jean Jacques Mouillard, barrister, 91 Rue de
Rennes."

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Yes, sir, that is all for the present. But I warn you that Monsieur
Charnot is exceedingly annoyed. It might be as well to offer him some
apology."

"Monsieur Charnot?"

"Yes. It is Monsieur Charnot, of the Institute, who was reading the Early
Text."

"Merciful Heavens!" I ejaculated, as I went back to my seat; "this must
be the man of whom my tutor spoke, the other day! Monsieur Flamaran
belongs to the Academy of Moral and Political Science, the other to the
Institute of Inscriptions and the Belles-Lettres. Charnot? Yes, I have
those two syllables in my ear. The very last time I saw Monsieur Flamaran
he let fall 'my very good friend Charnot, of the 'Inscriptions.' They are
friends. And I am in a pretty situation; threatened with I don't know
what by the Library--for the keeper told me positively that this was all
'for the present'--but not for the future; threatened to be disgraced in
my tutor's eyes; and all because this learned man's temper is upset.

"I must apologize. Let me see, what could I say to Monsieur Charnot? As a
matter of fact, it's to the Early Text that I ought to apologize. I have
spilled no ink over Monsieur Charnot. He is spotless, collar and cuffs;
the blot, the splashes, all fell on the Text. I will say to him, 'Sir, I
am exceedingly sorry to have interrupted you so unfortunately in your
learned studies! 'Learned studies' will tickle his vanity, and should go
far to appease him."

I was on the point of rising. M. Charnot anticipated me.

Grief is not always keenest when most recent. As he approached I saw he
was more irritated and upset than at the moment of the accident. Above
his pinched, cleanshaven chin his lips shot out with an angry twitch. The
portfolio shook under his arm. He flung me a look full of tragedy and
went on his way.

Well, well; go your way, M. Charnot! One doesn't offer apologies to a man
in his wrath. You shall have them by-and-bye, when we meet again.

CHAPTER II

THE JUNIAN LATINS

December 28, 1884.

This afternoon I paid M. Flamaran a visit. I had been thinking about it
for the last week, as I wanted him to help my Junian Latins out of a
mess. I am acquiring a passion for that interesting