My examinations have been passed meritoriously, but without brilliance; my tastes run too much after letters.

My professor, M.Flamaran, once told me the truth of the matter: "Law, young man, is a jealous mistress; she allows no divided affection." Are my affections divided?
I think not, and I certainly do not confess any such thing to M.Mouillard, who has not yet forgotten what he calls "that freak" of a Degree in Arts.

He builds some hopes upon me, and, in return, it is natural that I should build a few upon him.
Really, that sums up all my past: two certificates! A third diploma in prospect and an uncle to leave me his money--that is my future.

Can anything more commonplace be imagined?
I may add that I never felt any temptation at all to put these things on record until to-day, the tenth of December, 1884.

Nothing had ever happened to me; my history was a blank.