The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



mon stock: he would bring long hours of calcula- 

 tion, I my youthful ardour. We would begin as 

 soon as I had finished with my arts degree, which 

 was my main preoccupation for the moment. 



We begin in my room, in front of a blackboard. 

 After a few evenings, prolonged into the peaceful 

 watches of the night, I become aware, to my great 

 surprise, that my teacher, the past master in these 

 hieroglyphics, is really, more often than not, my 

 pupil. He does not see the combinations of the 

 abscissae and ordinates very clearly. I make bold 

 to take the chalk in hand myself, to seize the rud- 

 der of our algebraical boat. I comment on the 

 book, interpret it in my own fashion, expound the 

 text, sound the reefs, until daylight comes and 

 leads us to the haven of the solution. Besides, 

 the logic is so irresistible, it is all such easy going 

 and so lucid that often one seems to be remem- 

 bering rather than learning. 



And so we proceed, with our positions reversed. 

 My comrade — I can now allow myself to speak 

 of him on equal terms — my comrade listens, sug- 

 gests objections, raises difficulties which we try to 

 solve in unison. 



After fifteen months of this exercise, we went 

 up together for our examination at Montpellier ; 

 and both of us received our degrees as bachelors 

 of mathematical science. My companion was a 

 wreck; I, on the other hand, had refreshed my 

 mind with analytical geometry.^ 



^Souvenirs, ix, pp. 172-183 passim. The Life of the 

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