where I sat writing almost incessantly, and I saw more than one to whom
I had applied in the days of my misery, and been rejected. But happily
no one recognized me.

My kind master expressed great astonishment at my proficiency in
Sanscrit, and frequently declared my services to be invaluable to him. I
was sometimes able to render a passage which he had given up as
intractable; and he more than once asserted that my name should appear
on the title-page as well as his own. My name? Alas! I had no name.

My master frequently chid me for my unceasing devotion to my work; and
would sometimes playfully come behind, as I sat writing, snatch the
manuscript from my desk, and substitute in its place some new and
popular book, or some time-honored French classic, to which he would
command me to give my whole attention for the next two hours, on pain of
his displeasure.

His kindness to me knew no bounds. He ordered Dominique and the boy Jean
to treat me with as much respect as himself. He took me with him to the
Oriental lectures of the Bibliothèque du Roi. He procured for me the
_entrée_ to the discussions of several literary and scientific bodies,
and afforded me every facility for the improvement of my mind and the
development of my powers. He introduced me to all that was noblest and
best in the great aristocracy of intellect, and constantly spoke of me
as a young man of great promise, who would one day be heard of in the
world.

He used to rally me on my studious habits, and often expressed surprise
that a young man of my years should not seek the society of his
compeers, and especially of that _other sex_, to which the heart of