When aunt Dide came round, she would get up with difficulty, and set
about her work in the hovel without even questioning Silvere. She
remembered nothing, and the child, from a sort of instinctive prudence,
avoided the least allusion to what had taken place. These recurring
fits, more than anything else, strengthened Silvere's deep attachment
for his grandmother. In the same manner as she adored him without any
garrulous effusiveness, he felt a secret, almost bashful, affection for
her. While he was really very grateful to her for having taken him in
and brought him up, he could not help regarding her as an extraordinary
creature, a prey to some strange malady, whom he ought to pity and
respect. No doubt there was not sufficient life left in Adelaide; she
was too white and too stiff for Silvere to throw himself on her neck.
Thus they lived together amidst melancholy silence, in the depths of
which they felt the tremor of boundless love.
The sad, solemn atmosphere, which he had breathed from childhood, gave
Silvere a strong heart, in which gathered every form of enthusiasm. He
early became a serious, thoughtful little man, seeking instruction with
a kind of stubbornness. He only learnt a little spelling and arithmetic
at the school of the Christian Brothers, which he was compelled to leave
when he was but twelve years old, on account of his apprenticeship. He
never acquired the first rudiments of knowledge. However, he read all
the odd volumes which fell into his hands, and thus provided himself
with strange equipment; he had some notions of a multitude of subjects,
ill-digested notions, which he could never classify distinctly in his
head.
Pages:
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225