Paris in the Twentieth Century by Jules Verne Read Free Book Online Page A

these regulations and handed his properly filled-out form to the
librarian sleeping at his desk; following his example, the pages were snoring
loudly on chairs set around the wall; their functions had become a sinecure as
complete as those of the ushers at the Comédie-Française .
The librarian, waking with a start, stared at the bold young man; he read the
form and appeared to be stupefied at the request; after much deliberation, to
Michel's alarm, he sent the latter to a subordinate official working near his
own window, but at a separate little desk. Michel found himself facing a man
of about seventy, bright-eyed and smiling, with the look of a scholar who
believed he knew nothing. This modest clerk took Michel's form and read it
attentively. "You want the authors of the nineteenth century, " he
said. "That's quite an honor for them—it will allow us to dust them off.
As we say here, Monsieur... Michel Dufrénoy?" At this name, the old man's
head jerked up. "You are Michel Dufrénoy?" he exclaimed. "Of
course you are, I hadn't really taken a look at you!"
    "You
know me?"
    "Do
I know you!" The old man could not go on; overpowering emotion was evident
on his kindly countenance; he held out his hand, and Michel, trustingly, shook
it with great affection. "I am your uncle, " the librarian finally
stammered out, "your old Uncle Huguenin, your poor mother's brother.
"
    "You are my
uncle!" Michel exclaimed, deeply moved.
    "You
don't know me, but I know you, my boy. I was there when you won your splendid
prize for Latin Versification! My heart was pounding, and you never knew a
thing about it. "
    "Uncle!"
    "It's
not your fault, dear fellow, I know. I was standing in back, far away from you,
so as not to get you into trouble with your aunt's family; but I have been
following your studies step by step, day by day! I used to tell myself: it's
not possible that my sister's boy, the son of that great artist, has preserved
none of those poetic instincts that so distinguished his father; nor was I
mistaken, since here you are, asking me for our great French poets! Yes, my
boy! I shall give them to you, we shall read them together! No one will trouble
us here! No one bothers to keep an eye on us! Let me embrace you for the first
time!"
    The
old man clasped his nephew in his arms, and the boy felt himself restored to
life in that embrace. It was the sweetest emotion of his life up to that very
moment. "But, Uncle, " he asked, "how have you found out what
was happening to me all during my childhood?"
    "Dear
boy, I have a friend who is very fond of you, your old Professor Richelot, and
through him I learned that you were one of us! I saw you at work; I read the
theme you wrote in Latin verse—a difficult subject to handle, certainly,
because of the proper names: Marshal P é lissier on the Malacoff Tower. But that's how it goes, they're always about old historical subjects, and, my
word, you managed it very nicely!"
    "Not
really!"
    "Oh
yes, " the old scholar continued, "you made two strong beats and two
weak ones for Pelissierus, one strong and two weaks for Malacoff, and you were
right: you know, I still remember those two fine lines:
    lam
Pelissiero pendenti ex turre Malacoff
    Sebastopolitam
concedit Jupiter urbem...
     
    Ah,
my boy, how many times, had it not been for that family who despise me and who,
after all, were paying for your education—how many times I would have encouraged
your splendid inspirations! But now, you will visit me here, and often!"
    "Every
evening, Uncle, when I am free to do so. "
    "But
isn't this your vacation?"
    "Vacation!
Tomorrow morning, Uncle, I must start working in my cousin's bank. "
    "You
in a bank, my boy!" exclaimed the old man. "You in business! Lord,
what will become of you? A poor old wretch like me is no use to you, that's for
sure, but my dear fellow, with your ideas, and your talents, you were born too
late, I dare not say too soon, for the way things are going, we daren't even
hope for the