The SeminaryThree hundred and thirty-six dinners at 83 centimes, three hundred and thirty-six suppers at 38 centimes, chocolate to such asare entitled to it; how much is there to be made on the contract?

　　THE VALENOD OF BESANCONHe saw from a distance the cross of gilded iron over the door; he wenttowards it slowly; his legs seemed to be giving way under him. 'So thereis that hell upon earth, from which I can never escape!' Finally he decided to ring. The sound of the bell echoed as though in a deserted place.

　　After ten minutes, a pale man dressed in black came and opened thedoor to him. Julien looked at him and at once lowered his gaze. Thisporter had a singular physiognomy. The prominent green pupils of hiseyes were convex as those of a cat's; the unwinking contours of his eyelids proclaimed the impossibility of any human feeling; his thin lips werestretched and curved over his protruding teeth. And yet thisphysiognomy did not suggest a criminal nature, so much as that entireinsensibility which inspires far greater terror in the young. The sole feeling that Julien's rapid glance could discern in that long, smug face was aprofound contempt for every subject that might be mentioned to him,which did not refer to another and a better world.

　　Julien raised his eyes with an effort, and in a voice which the palpitation of his heart made tremulous explained that he wished to speak to M.

　　Pirard, the Director of the Seminary. Without a word, the man in blackmade a sign to him to follow. They climbed two flights of a wide staircase with a wooden baluster, the warped steps of which sloped at adownward angle from the wall, and seemed on the point of collapse. Asmall door, surmounted by a large graveyard cross of white woodpainted black, yielded to pressure and the porter showed him into a lowand gloomy room, the whitewashed walls of which were adorned withtwo large pictures dark with age. There, Julien was left to himself; he was terrified, his heart throbbed violently; he would have liked to findthe courage to weep. A deathly silence reigned throughout the building.

　　After a quarter of an hour, which seemed to him a day, the sinisterporter reappeared on the threshold of a door at the other end of theroom, and, without condescending to utter a word, beckoned to him toadvance. He entered a room even larger than the first and very badlylighted. The walls of this room were whitewashed also; but they werebare of ornament. Only in a corner by the door, Julien noticed in passinga bed of white wood, two straw chairs and a little armchair made ofplanks of firwood without a cushion. At the other end of the room, neara small window with dingy panes, decked with neglected flowerpots, hesaw a man seated at a table and dressed in a shabby cassock; he appeared to be in a rage, and was taking one after another from a pile oflittle sheets of paper which he spread out on his table after writing a fewwords on each. He did not observe Julien's presence. The latter remainedmotionless, standing in the middle of the room, where he had been leftby the porter, who had gone out again shutting the door behind him.

　　Ten minutes passed in this fashion; the shabbily dressed man writingall the time. Julien's emotion and terror were such that he felt himself tobe on the point of collapsing. A philosopher would have said, perhapswrongly: 'It is the violent impression made by ugliness on a soul createdto love what is beautiful.'

　　The man who was writing raised his head; Julien did not observe thisfor a moment, and indeed, after he had noticed it, still remained motionless, as though turned to stone by the terrible gaze that was fixed on him.

　　Julien's swimming eyes could barely make out a long face covered allover with red spots, except on the forehead, which displayed a deathlypallor. Between the red cheeks and white forehead shone a pair of littleblack eyes calculated to inspire terror in the bravest heart. The vast expanse of his forehead was outlined by a mass of straight hair, as black asjet.

　　'Are you coming nearer, or not?' the man said at length impatiently.

　　Julien advanced with an uncertain step, and at length, ready to fall tothe ground and paler than he had ever been in his life, came to a halt afew feet away from the little table of white wood covered with scraps ofpaper.

　　'Nearer,' said the man.

　　Julien advanced farther, stretching out his hand as though in search ofsomething to lean upon.

　　 'Your name?'

　　'Julien Sorel.'

　　'You are very late,' said the other, once more fastening upon him a terrible eye.

　　Julien could not endure this gaze; putting out his hand as though tosupport himself, he fell full length upon the floor.

　　The man rang a bell. Julien had lost only his sense of vision and thestrength to move; he could hear footsteps approaching.

　　He was picked up and placed in the little armchair of white wood. Heheard the terrible man say to the porter:

　　'An epileptic, evidently; I might have known it.'

　　When Julien was able to open his eyes, the man with the red face wasagain writing; the porter had vanished. 'I must have courage,' our herotold himself, 'and above all hide my feelings.' He felt a sharp pain at hisheart. 'If I am taken ill, heaven knows what they will think of me.' Atlength the man stopped writing, and with a sidelong glance at Julienasked:

　　'Are you in a fit state to answer my questions?'

　　'Yes, Sir,' said Julien in a feeble voice.

　　'Ah! That is fortunate.'

　　The man in black had half risen and was impatiently seeking for a letter in the drawer of his table of firwood which opened with a creak. Hefound it, slowly resumed his seat, and once more gazing at Julien, withan air which seemed to wrest from him the little life that remained tohim:

　　'You are recommended to me by M. Chelan, who was the best cure inthe diocese, a good man if ever there was one, and my friend for the lastthirty years.'

　　'Ah! It is M. Pirard that I have the honour to address,' said Julien in afeeble voice.

　　'So it seems,' said the Director of the Seminary, looking sourly at him.

　　The gleam in his little eyes brightened, followed by an involuntary jerkof the muscles round his mouth. It was the physiognomy of a tiger relishing in anticipation the pleasure of devouring its prey.

　　 'Chelan's letter is short,' he said, as though speaking to himself.

　　'Intelligenti pauca; in these days, one cannot write too little.' He readaloud:

　　'"I send you Julien Sorel, of this parish, whom I baptised nearly twentyyears ago; his father is a wealthy carpenter but allows him nothing. Julien will be a noteworthy labourer in the Lord's vineyard. Memory, intelligence are not wanting, he has the power of reflection. Will his vocationlast? Is it sincere?"'

　　'Sincere!' repeated the abbe Pirard with an air of surprise, gazing atJulien; but this time the abbe's gaze was less devoid of all trace of humanity. 'Sincere!' he repeated, lowering his voice and returning to theletter:

　　'"I ask you for a bursary for Julien; he will qualify for it by undergoingthe necessary examinations. I have taught him a little divinity, that oldand sound divinity of Bossuet, Arnault, Fleury. If the young man is notto your liking, send him back to me; the Governor of our Poorhouse............