The trouble it gives me is beyond conception.
It is true that I intersperse my researches with some more attractive studies, and one or two visits to the picture-galleries, and more than an occasional evening at the theatre.

My uncle knows nothing of this.
To keep him soothed I am careful to get my reader's ticket renewed every month, and every month to send him the ticket just out of date, signed by M.Leopold Delisle.

He has a box full of them; and in the simplicity of his heart Monsieur Mouillard has a lurking respect for this nephew, this modern young anchorite, who spends his days at the National Library, his nights with Gaius, wholly absorbed in the Junian Latins, and indifferent to whatsoever does not concern the Junian Latins in this Paris which my uncle still calls the Modern Babylon.
I came down this morning in the most industrious mood, when the misfortune befell.

Close by the sanctum where the librarians sit are two desks where you write down the list of the books you want.

I was doing so at the right-hand desk, on which abuts the first row of tables.