Little Pierre . my nose incrusted with littlebits of sharp grit, lips torn, ears aflame—never hadI drunk in such delight. When the school bell rang 268 LITTLE PIERRE and broke in upon my dream, my heart was rent intwain. All the time M. Grepinet was giving us ourlesson, I sat dazed and devoid of feeling. My nosewas smarting, my knees burning; but I liked the sen-sation because it recalled that crowded hour of glori-ous life. M. Grepinet asked me several questionswhich I was unable to answer. He called me a don-key, which was the more painful to me inasmuch as,not having read the Metamorphoses,
Little Pierre . my nose incrusted with littlebits of sharp grit, lips torn, ears aflame—never hadI drunk in such delight. When the school bell rang 268 LITTLE PIERRE and broke in upon my dream, my heart was rent intwain. All the time M. Grepinet was giving us ourlesson, I sat dazed and devoid of feeling. My nosewas smarting, my knees burning; but I liked the sen-sation because it recalled that crowded hour of glori-ous life. M. Grepinet asked me several questionswhich I was unable to answer. He called me a don-key, which was the more painful to me inasmuch as,not having read the Metamorphoses, I was as yetunaware that I only had to munch roses in order torecover my humanity. Learning it subsequently,when I had reached mans estate, I have lounged atleisure through the groves of Wisdom, feeding mydonkey nature on the roses of science and medita-tion. I have devoured whole bushes, with their per-fume and their thorns, but above my human headthere would ever be pricking the tiniest tip of apointed CHAPTER XXXII BUTTERFLY WINGS VERY time I go into the Pare deNeuilly I am reminded of ClementSibille, the gentlest soul, as it seemsto me, of any that I ever sawskimming the surface of this terres-trial globe. He was, I think, near-ing the end of his tenth year when I first made hisacquaintance. I was a year older than he, but thesuperiority which my age gave me over him Iwantonly threw away by my faults. The fates onlysuffered me to catch a momentary glimpse of him;yet now, though so many years have rolled by, Istill seem to see him amid the foliage, through therailings, whenever I go into the Pare de Neuilly. Monsieur and Madame Sibille had a house there,and in the summer I used to go with my father andmother to spend a few hours with them of a Sundayafternoon. Madame Sibille, whose Christian namewas Hermance, was pale, slim and supple of her green eyes, prominent cheek-bones andsmall chin, she gave one a tolerably close impres-sion of a cat that had been m
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1920
