Inclination recoiled, Ability faltered, Self-respect (that "vile quality") trembled.

"Non, non, non!" said all these; but looking up at M.Paul, and seeing in his vexed, fiery, and searching eye, a sort of appeal behind all its menace, my lips dropped the word "oui".

For a moment his rigid countenance relaxed with a quiver of content: quickly bent up again, however, he went on,-- "Vite a l'ouvrage! Here is the book; here is your _role_: read." And I read.

He did not commend; at some passages he scowled and stamped.

He gave me a lesson: I diligently imitated.