I am tired of poverty, and of the smiles of the insolent scholars who are superior to me only in their fortune; for there is not one among them who feels one-hundredth part of the noble sentiments by which I am animated.

Must your son, sir, continually be the butt of these boobies, who, vain of the luxuries which they enjoy, insult me with their laughter at the privations I am forced to endure?
No, father; No! If fortune refuses to smile upon me, take me from Brienne, and make me, if you will, a mechanic.

From these words you may judge of my despair.

This letter, sir, please believe, is not dictated by a vain desire to enjoy expensive amusements.

I have no such wish.