playing about the fields, he called him, lectured him for a quarter of
an hour and took advantage of the occasion to make him conjugate his
verb at the foot of a tree. The rain interrupted them or an acquaintance
passed. All the same he was always pleased with him, and even said the
"young man" had a very good memory.

*A devotion said at morning, noon, and evening, at the sound
of a bell. Here, the evening prayer.

Charles could not go on like this. Madame Bovary took strong steps.
Ashamed, or rather tired out, Monsieur Bovary gave in without a
struggle, and they waited one year longer, so that the lad should take
his first communion.

Six months more passed, and the year after Charles was finally sent to
school at Rouen, where his father took him towards the end of October,
at the time of the St. Romain fair.

It would now be impossible for any of us to remember anything about him.
He was a youth of even temperament, who played in playtime, worked in
school-hours, was attentive in class, slept well in the dormitory,
and ate well in the refectory. He had in loco parentis* a wholesale
ironmonger in the Rue Ganterie, who took him out once a month on Sundays
after his shop was shut, sent him for a walk on the quay to look at
the boats, and then brought him back to college at seven o'clock before
supper. Every Thursday evening he wrote a long letter to his mother with
red ink and three wafers; then he went over his history note-books, or
read an old volume of "Anarchasis" that was knocking about the study.
When he went for walks he talked to the servant, who, like himself, came
from the country.