ld never ask for information or advice from his classmates.
He hated to be trifled with, and made it understood that he intended to
be respected. Never in all his life did he have a low thought. If he
ever varied from the nobleness which was natural to him, silence was
sometimes sufficient to bring him to himself.

With a mobile face, full of contrasts, he was sometimes the roguish boy
who made the whole class shake with laughter, and involved it in a
whirlwind of games and tricks, and at others the serious, thoughtful
pupil, who was considered to be self-absorbed, distant, and not inclined
to reveal himself to anybody. The fierce soldier of the _petite guerre_
was also a formidable adversary at checkers. Here, however, he became
patient, only moving his pieces after long reflection. None of the
students could beat him, and no one could take him by surprise. If he
was beaten by a professor, he never rested until he had had his revenge.
His power of will was far beyond his years, but it needed to be relaxed.
To study and win to the head of his class was nothing for his lively
intelligence, but his health was always delicate. He would appear
wrapped in cloaks, comforters, waterproof coats, and then vanish into
the infirmary. This boy who did not fear blows, bruises, or falls, was
compelled to avoid draughts and to diet. Nobody ever heard him complain,
nor was any one ever to do so. Often he had to give up work for whole
months at a time; and in his baccalaureate year he was stopped by a
return of the infantile enteritis. "Three months of rest," the doctor
ordered at Christmas. "You will do your rhetoric over again next year,"
said his father, who came to take him home. "Not at all," said the boy;
"the boys shall not get ahead of me"--a childish boast which passed
unnoticed. At the end of three months of rest and pleasant walks around
Compiegne, the child remarked: "The three months are up, and I mean to
present myself in July." "You haven't time; it is impossible." He
insisted. So they discovered, at Compiegne, the Pierre d'Ailly school,
in a building which since then has been ruined by a shell. It was his
idea to attend these classes as a day scholar, just for the pleasure of
it. He promised to continue to take care of himself at home. And in the
month of July, at the age of fifteen, he took his bachelor degree, with
mention.

But the bow cannot long remain bent, and hence certain diversions of
his, ending sometimes in