The Schoolboy: Saint-Leons 



Under the ladder stood a big bed in a boarded 

 recess. What was there upstairs? I never quite 

 knew. I would see the master sometimes bring 

 down an armful of hay for the ass, sometimes a 

 basket of potatoes which the housewife emptied 

 into the pot in which the little porker's food was 

 cooked. It must have been a loft of sorts, a store- 

 house of provisions for man and beast. Those 

 two apartments composed the whole building. 



To return to the lower one, the schoolroom: a 

 window faces south, the only window in the house, 

 a long, narrow window whose frame you can touch 

 at the same time with your head and both your 

 shoulders. This sunny aperture is the only lively 

 spot in the dwelling; it overlooks the greater part 

 of the village, which straggles along the slopes of 

 a tapering valley. In the window-recess is the 

 master's little table. 



The opposite wall contains a niche in which 

 stands a gleaming copper pail full of water. Here 

 the parched children can relieve their thirst when 

 they please, with a cup left within their reach. 

 At the top of the niche are a few shelves bright 

 with pewter plates, dishes, and drinking-vessels, 

 which are taken down from their sanctuary on 

 great occasions only. 



More or less everywhere, at any spot which the 

 light touches, are crudely-coloured pictures, pasted 

 on the walls. Here is Our Lady of the Seven 

 Dolours, the disconsolate Mother of God, opening 

 her blue cloak to show her heart pierced with seven 

 daggers. Between the sun and moon, which stare 



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