XIV 



I HAVE said that it is not on memory's record that the 

 whilom schoolboy, now in his mediaeval student mood, 

 failed to rise at the appointed clock crow. Of a truth he 

 rarely had less than his eight hours good sleep, glad 

 enough as he was to retire to rest at nine~" curfew time/' 

 But it must be admitted that on one occasion or two he 

 succumbed to the weakness of compounding with his 

 studious resolutions, The French equivalent of playing 

 truant is faire I'ecole buissoniere~a taking term, redolent 

 of the allurement of hedgerows and free green fields. And 

 it is the memory of one of these ecoles buissonieresor 

 rather, in this case, ecoles riverainesthat, through the 

 usual devious paths, brings me back to the forgotten 

 question of soupe a loignon. 



It must have been a very early day in May, for at a 

 quarter before five, when the imperative rattle was sprung, 

 sun-rays were just beginning to dart between the curtains. 

 The birds in the Champs Elysees kept up their concert 

 through the morning silence of the gardens with more 

 persistent enthusiasm than usual. And on looking out 

 of window, under such a pure sky, the out-of-door world 

 looked quite extraordinarily inviting, It would have been 

 folly to decline such an invitation ! 



The " Short History," opened at a chapter of the Hundred 

 Years War, was left for the nonce undisturbed: the 

 scholar sallied forth to roam under the tall trees of the 

 Corns la Reine, intent, no doubt, on returning after a short 

 stroll. But there is in the early morning hours, especially 

 on such a morning, the spell of the "invitation to the 

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