Monsieur curled his lip, gave me a vicious glance of the eye, and
strode to his estrade. M. Paul was not at all a good little man,
though he had good points.
Did I read my letter there and then? Did I consume the venison at once
and with haste, as if Esau's shaft flew every day?
I knew better. The cover with its address--the seal, with its three
clear letters--was bounty and abundance for the present. I stole from
the room, I procured the key of the great dormitory, which was kept
locked by day. I went to my bureau; with a sort of haste and trembling
lest Madame should creep up-stairs and spy me, I opened a drawer,
unlocked a box, and took out a case, and--having feasted my eyes with
one more look, and approached the seal with a mixture of awe and shame
and delight, to my lips--I folded the untasted treasure, yet all fair
and inviolate, in silver paper, committed it to the case, shut up box
and drawer, reclosed, relocked the dormitory, and returned to class,
feeling as if fairy tales were true, and fairy gifts no dream.
Strange, sweet insanity! And this letter, the source of my joy, I had
not yet read: did not yet know the number of its lines.
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