By the time our next class came around, we were all on edge a bit. Renault’s attitude had put a decidedly cool cast on things and when we filed into the class, we were careful to maintain file. On this particular day we filed in and stood at attention, as was customary. But Renault was not there.
He had never been late to class before and so none of us knew exactly what to do, so we continued to stand there as the stuffy classroom became increasingly unbearable; the windows were closed, but none of us made a move to open them: we had not been given leave to do so. Ordinarily of course, we might well be lounging half out of the window sneaking a cigarette, but we were afraid to do that now.
We stood there for nearly 15 minutes; not long really in military terms, but very long when you don’t quite know what will happen next. Just then the door flew open and in rushed Renault in a flurry of papers and pipe smoke. He hardly looked at us at all, but simply threw his books down and began the lecture.
“Students, as I’ve been discussing, many malcontents and foreign detractors believed that the Second Empire was a weak façade covering a rotten house full of horrors. Socialists and foreign agents all with their own agenda’s published lies and scandal rags in an effort to undermine confidence in His Imperial Majesty.”
All this time Renault had not looked up, nor given us leave to sit. This was quite confusing.
“Sir?” It was Wellington; whether he was brave or a fool I’ll never know for sure, but at least he spoke up.
“Yes M. Wellington?”
Renault looked up from his papers at Wellington and Wellington simply stood there silently. There really wasn’t anything he could say. What was he to do? Demand that Renault give us leave to sit?
“Oh! Of course, thank you Wellington. Please gentlemen, have your seats.”
Renault broke into a broad smile and took a pull on his pipe while leaning back on his desk. We looked back and forth at each other in search of some explanation. No one seemed to have any.
“Allow me to clarify things. You are perhaps wondering both why I am late and why the change in tone in classroom these days.”
We were wondering, but no one said anything to substantiate Renault’s statements.
“Well then, shall I explain it to you? No, perhaps I had better not. It would not benefit you to know too much. I will direct your attention to the window however. M. Crane de Fer*, please open the window, it is insufferably warm in here. Gentlemen, please note the ship departing port just now.”
While Renault loosened his jacket, we all craned out necks to see. The ocean was not far, but it required a bit of effort.
“The ship that is currently departing has as her passenger the most excellent Deputy Minister of Higher Education who was for these several months on tour of educational facilities in French Africa and was based here. This morning before class, the faculty had a meeting with him and was able to bid him a fond adieu. Beyond that gentleman, I think I need say nothing further. Shall we continue with the lecture?”
So that explained it. Renault was the same brilliant scholar he had always been, but with high government officials around, it was to his benefit to be a bit less scholarly and a bit more, well official. Even as we settled with relief back into our seats I felt a bit of unease. Renault had all too easily assumed the role of a militaristic disciplinarian, and I’d had my share of experiences with those during the course of my education. Though I was glad to have Renault “back” I was still apprehensive.
*Crane de Fer = Skull of Iron