“Now then! What is the matter?” asked my father in a sharp tone, impatiently throwing down the newspaper.

“Nothing, papa,” I answered, but in a trembling voice.

“Nothing, you say? Then why did you pull down the blind? Why did you hurry away from the window? And why, sir, has your nose turned white? What is there to be seen in the street to frighten you like that?”

The tears rushed to my eyes, and I began to sob, as I replied, “It isn’t in the street, it’s opposite.”

My father jumped up so quickly from his chair that it fell with a loud noise on the polished floor of our little dining-room. As to me, I was more dead than alive: my father’s fits of impatience terrified me. And on these occasions I would stare at him, and look so stupid, that I used to make him more angry than ever.

He went to the window, pulled up the blind, and looked at the opposite house. There, at the window, stood a little boy of about my own age, who was always watching to see me come to the window of our house in order that he might make hideous faces and put out his tongue at me across the street.

My father turned round: he stood with his arms tightly folded on his chest; he looked at me from head to foot, and then he said in a sneering voice full of scorn:—“So that is what frightened you! You unfortunate creature, you will never be fit for anything as long as you live. A great boy of eight years old! the son of a soldier, and of a brave soldier, I flatter myself. Here am I burdened with a boy as timid as a hare, yes a regular hare, to bring up. You may well be ashamed, sir. Thirty years’ service! Five campaigns! Eight wounds! to come to this; to come to bringing up a boy who is afraid of his own shadow! Hide yourself, miserable child,” he went on, “for I am ashamed of you. How shall I have the face to walk about the town; to meet people that I know who will say; ‘How goes it, captain? How goes it with you?’ What am I to answer to these inquiries, sir? What am I to say?”

“I don’t know,” sobbed I.

“Ah! you don’t know; but I know too well. I must answer ‘You are very kind, and I thank you; I am well, but I occupy my leisure hours in educating a coward! And that coward, sir, is my own son.’ Yes, my own son. And your nose! where did you get that nose, sir?”