The Life of the Fly 



'Why, yes, it's a great pity,' continues the 

 man reputed so terrible. 'I have read your 

 articles in the Annates des sciences naturelles. 

 You have an observant mind, a taste for re- 

 search, a lively style and a ready pen. You 

 would have made a capital university-profes- 

 sor.' 



'But that's just what I'm aiming at!' 



'Give up the idea.' 



'Haven't I the necessary attainment?' 



'Yes, you have; but you have no capital.' 



The great obstacle stands revealed to me: 

 woe to the poor in pocket ! University-teach- 

 ing demands a private income. Be as ordi- 

 nary, as commonplace as you please, but, above 

 all, possess the coin that lets you cut a dash. 

 That is the main thing; the rest is a secondary 

 condition. 



And the worthy man tells me what poverty 

 in a frock-coat means. Though less of a pau- 

 per than I, he has known the mortification of 

 it; he describes it to me, excitedly, in all its 

 bitterness. I listen to him with an aching 

 heart; I see the refuge which was to shelter 

 my future crumbling before my eyes: 



'You have done me a great service, sir,' 

 I answered. 'You put an end to my hesitation. 

 For the moment, I give up my plan. I will 



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