The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



the more delightful in that Fabre, instead of 

 thrusting himself forward, sought rather to 

 draw back, seeming more anxious to avoid 

 than to recommend himself for administra- 

 tive favours. 



The chief inspectors visited our grammar-school. 

 These personages travel in pairs: one attends to 

 literature, the other to science. When the inspec- 

 tion was over and the books checked, the stafE was 

 summoned to the principal's drawing-room, to re- 

 ceive the parting admonitions of the two luminaries. 

 The man of science began. I should be sadly put 

 to it to remember what he said. It was cold pro- 

 fessional prose, made up of soulless words which the 

 hearer forgot once the speaker's back was turned, 

 words merely boring to both. I had heard enough 

 of these chilly sermons in my time; one more of 

 them could not hope to make an impression 

 on me. 



The inspector in literature spoke next. At the 

 first words which he uttered, I said to myself: 



"Oho! This is a very different business!" 



The speech was alive and vigorous and image- 

 ful; indifferent to scholastic commonplaces, the 

 ideas soared, hovering gently in the serene heights 

 of a kindly philosophy. This time, I listened with 

 pleasure; I even felt stirred. Here was no official 

 homily: it was full of impassioned zeal, of words 

 that carried you with them, uttered by an honest 

 man accomplished in the art of speaking, an orator 

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