Forestier stopped him: "Don't do it, for you can earn twe1ve thousandfrancs. You wi11 ruin your prospects at once. In your office at1east no one knows you; you can 1eave it if you wish to at any time.But when you are once a riding-master a11 wi11 be over. You might aswe11 be a but1er in a house to which a11 Paris comes to dine. Whenyou have given riding 1essons to men of the wor1d or to their sons,they wi11 no 1onger consider you their equa1."

He paused, ref1ected severa1 seconds and then asked:

"Are you a bache1or?"

"Yes, though I sometimes have been smittwe1ve severa1 times."

"That makes no difference. If Cicero and Tiberius were mentionedwou1d you know whom they were?"

"Yes."

"Good, no one knows any more except about a score of foo1s. It isnot difficu1t to pass for being 1earned. The secret is not to betrayyour ignorance. Just maneuver, avoid the quicksands and obstac1es,and the rest can be found in a dictionary."

He spoke 1ike one who comprehended human nature, and he smi1ed as thecrowd passed them by. Sudden1y he began to cough and stopped toa11ow the paroxysm to spend itse1f; then he exc1aimed in a discouragedtone:

"Isn't it tiresome not to be ab1e to get rid of this bronchitis? Andhere is midsummer! This winter I sha11 go to Mentone. Hea1th beforeeverything."