XXVI.
MARC’S FRIENDSHIP FOR ME.
Marc was extremely, and deservedly, popular amongst his schoolfellows; and, as I was his particular friend, some of his popularity was reflected upon me.
That I had been attracted by him the first day I saw him was not extraordinary; for he won, even at first sight, every one’s sympathy. Besides, had he not held out his hand to me that first day when he saw me in trouble? and did I not owe it to him that I had escaped the jokes and bullying which new boys generally get inflicted upon them?
But he, why did he like me? Perhaps for the simple reason that I loved him so, and that I required his friendship; his heart was so generous and kind!
At any rate, thanks to him, I found out what it was to be the friend of one who was thought so highly of. I was respected because he liked me, and I felt that I grew better by being so much with him.
When spring came round, and the cockchafers began to buzz among the linden trees, more than one of those unfortunate insects would be roughly seized by the wing, and passed from the hand which held it captive down the back of some timid young scholar. Then the most appalling shrieks would be heard from the frightened boy, accompanied by yells of joy and shouts of laughter from the perpetrator of the mischief. As for me the very idea of having a cockchafer put down my neck made me shudder all over. Miss Porquet, who was rather nervous herself, was very angry when the boys played this trick, but she could not stop it.
The Count, in spite of his pomposity, often came in for this disagreeable practical joke. He would then fly to his desk and write off to his mother. Whether the letters went I know not; but it was his great resource on these occasions. Now, fortunately for me, no one dreamt of putting a cockchafer down the neck of Marc Sublaine’s particular friend.
As things went so smoothly in play-hours I was all the better able to devote myself to my studies, and tackled my Latin grammar with the better will for having my mind at ease.
At the close of that summer I remember the boys adopted a very disagreeable method of teasing one another. It lasted for about a week, just when the furze bushes were covered with burs. And while the fancy lasted, the teasing was incessant. Everywhere—in the playground, at study time, under Miss Porquet’s very eyes—handfuls of burs used to be cast by anonymous hands, like harpoons by a whaler, on the innocent heads of unsuspecting boys. The heads chosen were always those covered with the thickest or curliest hair. And the victim would sometimes have to pass an hour in grumbling and complaining, while he disentangled the odious burs from his head; often pulling out handfuls of hair as he did so. This trick was never played on me; that I was spared, I knew well I owed to Marc.