Derues | Page 4

slight accident to one of the
teachers had caused the class to be dismissed half an hour earlier than
usual, and in consequence of the extra work thrown on the teaching

staff the brother whose duty it was to see all the scholars safe home was
compelled to omit that part of his daily task. Therefore not only thirty
or forty minutes were stolen from work, but there was also unexpected,
uncontrolled liberty, free from the surveillance of that black-cassocked
overseer who kept order in their ranks. Thirty minutes! at that age it is a
century, of laughter and prospective games! Each had promised
solemnly, under pain of severe punishment, to return straight to his
paternal nest without delay, but the air was so fresh and pure, the
country smiled all around! The school, or preferably the cage, which
had just opened, lay at the extreme edge of one of the suburbs, and it
only required a few steps to slip under a cluster of trees by a sparkling
brook beyond which rose undulating ground, breaking the monotony of
a vast and fertile plain. Was it possible to be obedient, to refrain from
the desire to spread one's wings? The scent of the meadows mounted to
the heads of the steadiest among them, and intoxicated even the most
timid. It was resolved to betray the confidence of the reverend fathers,
even at the risk of disgrace and punishment next morning, supposing
the escapade were discovered.
A flock of sparrows suddenly released from a cage could not have
flown more wildly into the little wood. They were all about the same
age, the eldest might be nine. They flung off coats and waistcoats, and
the grass became strewn with baskets, copy-books, dictionaries, and
catechisms. While the crowd of fair-haired heads, of fresh and smiling
faces, noisily consulted as to which game should be chosen, a boy who
had taken no part in the general gaiety, and who had been carried away
by the rush without being able to escape sooner, glided slyly away
among the trees, and, thinking himself unseen, was beating a hasty
retreat, when one of his comrades cried out--
"Antoine is running away!"
Two of the best runners immediately started in pursuit, and the fugitive,
notwithstanding his start, was speedily overtaken, seized by his collar,
and brought back as a deserter.
"Where were you going?" the others demanded.
"Home to my cousins," replied the boy; "there is no harm in that."
"You canting sneak!" said another boy, putting his fist under the
captive's chin; "you were going to the master to tell of us."
"Pierre," responded Antoine, "you know quite well I never tell lies."

"Indeed!--only this morning you pretended I had taken a book you had
lost, and you did it because I kicked you yesterday, and you didn't dare
to kick me back again."
Antoine lifted his eyes to heaven, and folding his arms on his breast
Dear Buttel," he said, "you are mistaken; I have always been taught to
forgive injuries."
"Listen, listen! he might be saying his prayers!" cried the other boys;
and a volley of offensive epithets, enforced by cuffs, was hurled at the
culprit.
Pierre Buttel, whose influence was great, put a stop to this onslaught.
"Look here, Antoine, you are a bad lot, that we all know; you are a
sneak and a hypocrite. It's time we put a stop to it. Take off your coat
and fight it out. If you like, we will fight every morning and evening till
the end of the month."
The proposition was loudly applauded, and Pierre, turning up his
sleeves as far as his elbows, prepared to suit actions to words.
The challenger assuredly did not realise the full meaning, of his words;
had he done so, this chivalrous defiance would simply have been an act
of cowardice on his part, for there could be no doubt as to the victor in
such a conflict. The one was a boy of alert and gallant bearing, strong
upon his legs, supple and muscular, a vigorous man in embryo; while
the other, not quite so old, small, thin, of a sickly leaden complexion,
seemed as if he might be blown away by a strong puff of wind. His
skinny arms and legs hung on to his body like the claws of a spider, his
fair hair inclined to red, his white skin appeared nearly bloodless, and
the consciousness of weakness made him timid, and gave a shifty,
uneasy look to his eyes. His whole expression was uncertain, and
looking only at his face it was difficult at first sight to decide to which
sex he belonged. This confusion of two natures, this indefinable
mixture of feminine weakness without grace, and of abortive boyhood,
seemed to stamp him as