The Schoolmaster: Carpentras 



nomial gave me time to tackle my algebra book 

 from the proper commencement. In three or four 

 days I had rubbed up my weapons. There was 

 nothing to be said about addition and subtraction: 

 they were so simple as to force themselves upon one 

 at first sight. Multiplication spoilt things. There 

 was a certain rule of signs which declared that 

 minus multiplied by minus made plus. How I 

 toiled over that wretched paradox! It would seem 

 that the book did not explain this subject clearly, 

 or rather employed too abstract a method. I read, 

 reread, and meditated in vain: the obscure text re- 

 tained all its obscurity. That is the drawback of 

 books in general: they tell you what is printed in 

 them and nothing more. If you fail to under- 

 stand, they never advise you, never suggest an at- 

 tempt along another road which might lead you 

 to the light. The merest word would sometimes 

 be enough to put you on the right track; and that 

 word the books, hide-bound in a regulation phrase- 

 ology, never give you. 



My pupil was bound to suffer the effects. After 

 an attempt at an explanation in which I made the 

 most of the few gleams that reached me, I asked 

 him: 



" Do you understand ? " 



It was a futile question, but useful for gaining 

 time. Myself not understanding, I was convinced 

 beforehand that he did not understand either. 



*' No," he replied, accusing himself, perhaps, in 

 his simple mind, of possessing a brain incapable of 

 taking in those transcendental verities. 

 107 



