"It's a very funny one."

"I will write it down, so that you may not forget it." Thinking that her
dear son was joking. Madame Cornelis looked at me in some astonishment,
and told him to go to bed, which he did instantly. When we were alone she
said he struck her as badly educated, and too small for his age.

"I am very much afraid," said she, "that we shall have to begin his
education all over again. What has he learnt in the last six years?"

"He might have learnt a great deal, for he went to the best boarding
school in Paris; but he only learnt what he liked, and what he liked was
not much. He can play the flute, ride, fence, dance a minuet, change his
shirt every day, answer politely, make a graceful bow, talk elegant
trifles, and dress well. As he never had any application, he doesn't know
anything about literature; he can scarcely write, his spelling is
abominable, his arithmetic limited, and I doubt whether he knows in what
continent England is situated."

"He has used the six years well, certainly."

"Say, rather, he has wasted them; but he will waste many more."

"My daughter will laugh at him; but then it is I who have had the care of
her education. He will be ashamed when he finds her so well instructed
though she is only eight."

"He will never see her at eight, if I know anything of reckoning; she is
fully ten."