Mademoiselle Sergent did not return.
Her little assistant retained her shut face and her hard eyes till the end of the class.
At half past ten, we were already thinking about going home.
I took some cinders from the stove to stuff them in my sabots, an excellent means of warming them – officially forbidden, that goes without saying.
But Mademoiselle Lanthenay’s mind was far from cinders and sabots!
She was sullenly ruminating her anger and her golden eyes were two cold topazes.
I didn’t care.
In fact, I was even delighted.
Whatever was that?
We pricked up our ears. Shouts; a man’s voice cursing, mingled with another voice trying to drown it … were some of the builders having a fight?
I did not think so; I sensed something else.
Little Aimee was standing up, very pale; she too felt that something else was coming.
Suddenly Mademoiselle Sergent flung herself into the classroom; the crimson had fled from her cheeks.
‘Girls, go home at cone. It isn’t time, but that doesn’t matter … Off with you, off with you – don’t get into line. Do you understand, get out!’
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ shrieked Mademoiselle Lanthenay.
‘Nothing, nothing … but get them to go and don’t you stir from here.
Better lock the door … Haven’t you gone yet, you little idiots!’
Obviously, circumspection had gone to the winds!
Rather than leave the school at such a moment, I would have let myself be flayed alive!
I went out in the general scurry of my bewildered classmates.
Outside, the vociferating voice could be clearly heard … Good heavens!
It was Armand, more livid than a drowned man, his eyes hollow and wild. He was stained green all over with moss, and there were twigs in his hair – he had obviously slept in the woods … Mad with rage after that night spent in brooding over his misery, he wanted to rush into the classroom, yelling and brandishing his fists: Rabastens was holding him back with both arms and rolling his eyes in terror.
What a fuss!
What a scene!
Marie Belhomme fled, frightened out of her wits, the Second Division behind her; Luce vanished – I had just time to catch her malicious little smile; the Jauberts had run to the playground-door without turning their heads.
I could not see Anais but I could have sworn she was huddled in some corner and not losing any of the spectacle.
The first word I heard distinctly, was ‘Trollops!’
Armand had dragged his panting colleague right into the classroom where our mute mistresses stood clasping each other tight. He shouted:
‘Whores!
I’m not going to go without telling you what you are, even if I do lose my job for it!
Filthy little bitch!
Ah, so you let yourself be fumbled for money by that swine of a District Inspector!
You’re worse than a street walker but that one there is even worse than you, that damned redhead who’s making you like herself.
Two bitches, two bitches, you’re two bitches, this house is …’ I did not hear what.
Rabastens, who must have double muscles like Tartarin de Tarascon, succeeded in dragging away the unfortunate man who was choking with insults.
Mademoiselle Griset, losing her head, pushed the little girls, who were coming out of the small classroom, back into it again and I escaped, my heart rather shaken.
But I was glad that Duplessis had exploded without further delay for Aimee could not now accuse me of having warned him.
When we returned in the afternoon, the one and only person we found there was Mademoiselle Griset who repeated the same phrase to each new arrival.
‘Mademoiselle Sergent is ill and Mademoiselle Lanthenay is going home to her family; you’re not to come back to school for a week.’
Fine, so off we went.
But, honestly, this is no ordinary school!
DURING THE WEEK of unexpected holidays which this commotion procured for us, I went down with measles. This compelled me to spend three weeks in bed, then another fortnight convalescing.
And they kept me in quarantine still another fortnight on the pretext of ‘school safety’.
If I hadn’t had books and Fanchette, however should I have got through it!
That doesn’t sound very kind to Papa, yet he looked after me as if I were a rare slug. Convinced that one must give a little invalid everything she asks for, he brought me marrons glaces to make my temperature go down!
Fanchette spent a whole week on my bed, washing herself from ears to tail, playing with my feet through the blanket and nestling in the hollow of my shoulder as soon as I stopped smelling of fever.
I returned to school, a little thinner and paler, and immensely curious to see that extraordinary ‘teaching staff’ again.
I’d had so little news during my illness!
No one came to see me, not even Anais or Marie Belhomme, for fear of possible infection.
Half past seven was striking when I entered the playground on a morning in late February that was as mild as spring.