The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



Not a bit of it. Behold the bugbear growing 

 genial. He sits down on a bench, with one leg 

 here, another there, invites me to take a seat by his 

 side and, in a moment, we are discussing graphics. 

 Then, bluntly: 



"Have you any money?' he asks. 



Astounded at this strange question, I answer with 

 a smile. 



" Don't be afraid," he says. " Confide in me. 

 I'm asking you in your own interest. Have you 

 any capital? " 



" I have no reason to be ashamed of my poverty, 

 Monsieur l'inspecteur general. I frankly admit, 

 I possess nothing; my means are limited to my mod- 

 est salary." 



A frown greets my answer; and I hear, spoken 

 in an undertone, as though my confessor were talk- 

 ing to himself: 



" That's sad, that's really very sad." 



Astonished to find my penury treated as sad, I 

 ask for an explanation: I was not accustomed to 

 this solicitude on the part of my superiors. 



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

 reputed so terrible. " I have read your articles in 

 the Annales des sciences naturelles. You have an 

 observant mind, a taste for research, a lively style 

 and a ready pen. You would have made a capital 

 university-professor." 



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



" Give up the idea." 



11 Haven't I the necessary attainment? " 

 1 Yes, you have ; but you have no capital." 



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