EXERCISE IX

. ( (Hortibus, pp. 419-22. )

A. 1. It was a holiday at the school. 2. The hammers were making a greater noise than all the rest. 3. They rose up to listen. 4. No one stopped at his door. 5. Are you packing your trunk 1 6. They will appear every fifteen minutes. 7. If he were to show the tip of his nose, I should close the door. 8. Are you going away? 9. Let them go away too/ 10. We are not waiting for the doctor, or the nurse. A/1 1 . The father came in circumspectly, the mother came in briskly, the little girl came in on tiptoe. 12. How long has it pained youl 13. On washing days the mother used to make hearth-cakes. 14. Is the platform in the college or in the open air? 15. I hear hurried steps. 16. Let us not go there. 17. There was no more room on the platform. 18. They gazed affectionately on their child. 19. Please go and see who are there. 20. The colonel had a hat with a plume. 21. The speech of the sous-préfet was on a bit of paper rolled round his finger. 22. We could not hear a word of it. 23. It was only a monotonous hum. 24. The certificate was pasted inside. 25. The principal's signature was there. 26. We saw the academic palm-wreath in the form of a head-piece. 27. Did you make a mistake in your Latin prose? 28. No, my paper was perfect, 29. Your paper was bristling with corrections. 30. Your paper contained {contenir) this frightful error — " hortibus." 31. The master underlined it three times with red ink. 32. The awful word was posted on the wall. 33. His lips moved, he called his mother. 34. Hortibus had vanished [s'évanouir). 35. It was in the land of dreams. 36. Good-bye to Hortibus. 37. Both have come. 38. The winner received his book. 39. They put the wreath, on his brow. 40. Are you better ? 41. Yes, I am much better. 42. The open air, walks, and exercise will cure you, but above all no Latin prose.

B, Vacation is a word that smells as sweet as a bouquet of flowers ! The decorators are busy putting up the drapery. There are people everywhere, jostling one another {se bousculer) in the halls and stairways. A platform has been erected for the distribution of the prizes. But there is one little sick

boy in the sick- ward who is awaiting some one. The doctor comes in great haste and goes away, and the nurse also. But they are not the ones the little patient is waiting for. He is awaiting some country-people — a man, a woman, and a young girl. There they come ! They enter the sick-ward. They clasp his hands and embrace him. They ask what is the matter with him. He had had a heavy feeling in his head since the Latin prose paper. But it would soon be gone. As they chatted, a murmur rose from the platform in the court. The father and little sister went down to it. The mother and little Tiennet (Stevey) stayed. She said to him that if he slept a little it would cure him. But how could he fall asleep, with the hubbub under the window ! The platform was full. The colonel was there, and the sous-préfet in his dress-coat, all embroidered with silver. There were so many prizes, — three piles of books and a mountain of wreaths ! The brass-band blared forth and everybody applauded. The sous-préfet rose, but not a word was heard of his speech. Then a black gown arose with his sermon in his hand. He hummed away, and the mother fell asleep. Tiennet became impatient. Would he have the Latin prose prize ? The beautiful, gilt-edged book was in the pile. But he could not see the winner's name. And he fell asleep too. He dreamed that he had made a frightful barbarism in his Latin prose, and that another had won the first prize. The awful word "hortibus" haunted him. It danced before him in a thousand forms (multiplié or en mille formes). It stuck out its tongue and made grimaces at him. But when Tiennet opened his eyes, there was no more "hortibus." The father and little sister brought up the prize and laid it on the little sick boy's bed. The doctor came too, and said the boy was better, the wreath on the brow had worked wonders, the open air would complete the cure, but, said he, '' no Latin prose ! "