THE LAST LESSON 9

That lesson finished, we passed to
writing, For that day M. Hamel
had prepared for us some quite fresh
copies, on which was written in beau-
tiful round hand: Jrance, Alsace,
France, Alsace. They looked like
little banners floating round the class-
room on the rail of our desks. To
see how hard every one tried, and
what a silence there was! One could
hear nothing but the scraping of the
pens on the paper. Once some cock-
chafers flew in; but nobody took any
heed, not even the little ones, who
worked away at their pothooks with such
enthusiasm and conscientiousness as if
feeling there was something French
about them. On the roof of the
school the pigeons cooed softly, and I
thought to myself, hearing them :

‘Are they to be forced to sing in
German too?’

From time to time, when I raised
my eyes from the page, I saw M.
Hamel motionless in his chair, looking