DOI Artikel:
Harland, Henry: P'tit-Bleu
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27811#0081
By Henry Harland 77
For the rest of that season, P'tit-Bleu and I remained at daggers
drawn. In June I left town for the summer; and then one thing
and another happened, and kept me away till after Christmas.
When I got back, amongst the many pieces of news that I
found waiting for me, there was one that affected P'tit-Bleu.
"P'tit-Bleu," I was told, "is 'collee ' with an Englishman—
but a grey-beard, mon cher—a gaga—an Englishman old enough
to be her grandfather."
A stolid, implicit cynicism, I must warn you, was the mode of
the Quarter. The student who did not wish to be contemned
for a sentimentalist, dared never hesitate to believe an evil report,
nor to put the worst possible construction upon all human actions.
Therefore, when I was apprised by common rumour that during
the dead season P'tit-Bleu (for considerations fiscal,
had gone to live " collee " with an Englishman old enough to be
her grandfather—though, as it turned out, the story was the
sheerest fabrication—it never entered my head to doubt it.
At the same time, I confess, I could not quite share the
humour of my compeers, who regarded the circumstance as a
stupendous joke. On the contrary, I was shocked and sickened.
I shouldn't have imagined her capable of that. She was a mere
little animal; she had no soul; she was bound, in the nature of
things, to go from bad to worse, as I had permitted myself, indeed,
to admonish her, in the last conversation we had had. " Mark
my words, you will go from bad to worse." But I had thought
her such a nice little animal; in my secret heart, I had hoped that
her progress would be slow—even, faintly, that Providence might
let something happen to arrest it, to divert it. And now. . . .!
As a matter of fact, Providence let something happen to
divert it; and that something was this very relation of hers with
an
For the rest of that season, P'tit-Bleu and I remained at daggers
drawn. In June I left town for the summer; and then one thing
and another happened, and kept me away till after Christmas.
When I got back, amongst the many pieces of news that I
found waiting for me, there was one that affected P'tit-Bleu.
"P'tit-Bleu," I was told, "is 'collee ' with an Englishman—
but a grey-beard, mon cher—a gaga—an Englishman old enough
to be her grandfather."
A stolid, implicit cynicism, I must warn you, was the mode of
the Quarter. The student who did not wish to be contemned
for a sentimentalist, dared never hesitate to believe an evil report,
nor to put the worst possible construction upon all human actions.
Therefore, when I was apprised by common rumour that during
the dead season P'tit-Bleu (for considerations fiscal,
had gone to live " collee " with an Englishman old enough to be
her grandfather—though, as it turned out, the story was the
sheerest fabrication—it never entered my head to doubt it.
At the same time, I confess, I could not quite share the
humour of my compeers, who regarded the circumstance as a
stupendous joke. On the contrary, I was shocked and sickened.
I shouldn't have imagined her capable of that. She was a mere
little animal; she had no soul; she was bound, in the nature of
things, to go from bad to worse, as I had permitted myself, indeed,
to admonish her, in the last conversation we had had. " Mark
my words, you will go from bad to worse." But I had thought
her such a nice little animal; in my secret heart, I had hoped that
her progress would be slow—even, faintly, that Providence might
let something happen to arrest it, to divert it. And now. . . .!
As a matter of fact, Providence let something happen to
divert it; and that something was this very relation of hers with
an