Another time, my dear Violette.
Adieu, my little man--it is astonishing how much he grows to look like Lucie! You must come and dine with me some Sunday, without ceremony.
Berenice's 'souffle au fromage' is something delicious! Let Monsieur le Superieur come in." M.Violette took his departure, displeased at his useless visit and irritated against Uncle Isidore, who had been hardly civil.
"That man is a perfect egotist," thought he, sadly; "and that girl has him in her clutches.

My poor Amedee will have nothing from him." Amedee himself was not interested in his uncle's fortune.

He was just then a pupil in the fourth grade, which follows the same studies as at the Lycee Henri IV.

Having suddenly grown tall, he was annoyed at wearing short trousers, and had already renounced all infantile games.
The dangling crows which illustrated the pages of his Burnouf grammar were all dated the previous year, and he had entirely renounced feeding silkworms in his desk.

Everything pointed to his not being a very practical man.