The Professor: Avignon 



him. A crowd at one side, we two on the other. 

 Followed the regulation spinal contortions, the 

 empty obeisances which my dear Duruy had come 

 to my laboratory to forget. When bowing to St. 

 Roch, 1 in his corner niche, the worshipper at the 

 same time salutes the saint's humble companion. 

 I was something like St. Roch's dog in the pres- 

 ence of those honours which did not concern me. 

 I stood and looked on, with my awful red hands 

 concealed behind my back, under the broad brim of 

 my felt hat. 



After the official compliments had been ex- 

 changed, the conversation began to languish; and 

 the minister seized my right hand and gently drew 

 it from the mysterious recesses of my wideawake: 



" Why don't you show those gentlemen your 

 hands?" he said. "Most people would be proud 

 of them." 



I vainly protested with a jerk of the elbow. I 

 had to comply, and I displayed my lobster-claws. 



" Workman's hands," said the prefect's secre- 

 tary. " Regular workman's hands." 



The general, almost scandalised at seeing me in 

 such distinguished company, added: 



" Hands of a dyer and cleaner." 



" Yes, workman's hands," retorted the minister, 

 " and I wish you many like them. Believe me, 

 they will do much to help the chief industry of your 



1 St. Roch (1295-1327) is represented in his statues 

 with the dog that saved his life by discovering him in the 

 solitude where after curing the plague-stricken Italians, 

 he hid himself lest he should communicate the pestilence 

 to others. — A. T. de M. 



175 



