Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five

The most queer of Philip's private tutors was the French teacher.This Monsieur Ducroux was a citizen of Geneva, a tall old man with a sallow complexion, sunken cheeks, and gray, thin, long hair.He was dressed poorly in black, with holes in the elbows of his jacket and frayed trousers.The underwear was dirty, and Philip had never seen his collar clean.He doesn't like to talk too much, and he is meticulous in teaching, but he has no enthusiasm: he arrives on time, leaves on time, and every second is accurate.Tuition fees charged are negligible.He was taciturn; and everything about him Philip got from other people.He is said to have fought alongside Garibaldi in the struggle against the Pope.When it became clear to him that all efforts for liberty--"liberty" means the establishment of a republic--were nothing more than a change of shackles, he left Italy in disgust; crime and was expelled from Geneva.Seeing such a figure, Philip was puzzled and surprised. He was very different from the image of the revolutionary in his mind.Mr. Ducrore had a low voice, and was extremely courteous in his dealings; he stood up when he was not asked to sit; and when he happened to meet Philip in the street, he would inevitably take off his hat and behave in a very respectable manner. He gestured salute; he never laughed out loud, not even a smile appeared on his face.Had anyone had a more perfect imagination than Philip, he would have pictured Ducrot as a promising young man, for he must have begun to enter manhood in 1848.At that time, the kings thought of the fate of their French brothers, and they ran around in panic like thorns on their backs; perhaps, the heat wave of thirst for freedom that swept across Europe swept away the filth and filth that lay before it. Things--the ashes of absolutism and tyranny which had been revived in the reactionary headwinds that followed the Revolution of 1789--kindled a still hotter fire in every breast.One can also imagine that he passionately believed in various theories about human equality and human rights, discussed and argued with others, fought behind the barricades in Paris, and galloped in front of the Austrian cavalry in Milan: he was imprisoned here in a while , and was exiled there a while later.He is always full of hope. The word "freedom", a word that seems to have infinite magic power, has always given him the strength to sustain.In the end, he was overwhelmed by disease, hunger, and old age, and had no other means of earning a living except to teach a few lessons to a few poor students.And he found himself in this neat little town, ravaged by a more despotic tyranny than any other city in Europe.Perhaps beneath his taciturn exterior lurks a contempt for human beings who have abandoned the great ideals of his youth and indulged in the comfort of mediocrity.Perhaps the revolution of the past thirty years has taught him that human beings are not worthy of freedom, and he has come to realize that the goal he has been striving for all his life is not worth pursuing.Or else he is exhausted, waiting indifferently to be released from death.

One day Philip asked him, with the awkwardness of his age, whether he had really been with Garibaldi in the past.The old man didn't seem to take the question seriously at all.He replied very calmly in his usual deep voice: "Oui Monsieur." "I heard from others that you have participated in the commune." "Did anyone else say that? Let's start class, uh" He opened the book, and Philip tremblingly began to translate the text he had prepared. One day, Mr. Ducroux seemed to be suffering from such great pain that he could hardly climb the stairs. As soon as he entered Philip's room, he sat down heavily on a chair to catch his breath, his sallow face Crooked, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"I'm afraid you are ill," said Philip. "It doesn't matter." But Philip could see that he was very ill, and when the lesson was over Philip asked him if it would be best to rest for a few days and resume the lesson when he was better. "No," said the old man, with the same steady, deep voice, "I'm still healthy, and I'm willing to continue teaching." Philip, who was always so nervous when money had to be mentioned, blushed very brightly. "But it doesn't matter to you anyway," said Philip. "I'll pay my lessons as usual. If you don't mind, I'd like to give you an advance payment for next week right now."

Eighteenpence an hour for Mr Ducro's lessons.Philip took a ten-mark coin from his pocket and put it embarrassingly on the table.How could he slip money into the old man's hands as if he were a beggar. "In that case, I think I'll come back when I'm better." He accepted the coin, bowed to Philip as usual, and walked out without any other indication. "Bonjour, Monsieur." Philip was vaguely disappointed.Thinking of his generosity, Mr. Ducroux should be very grateful to him, but Philip was surprised that the old teacher took this gift as a matter of course.He is still young and does not understand the world.In fact, the mentality of the beneficiary to repay the favor is much weaker than that of the benefactor.After the fifth or sixth National Congress, Mr. Dicroux came again, his gait became more and more frail, and his body seemed very weak, but he finally survived a serious illness.He was still as taciturn as ever, as mysterious, withdrawn, and slovenly as ever.He didn't mention his illness until the class was over.Then, he got up to say goodbye, and when he opened the door, he stopped suddenly at the door.He hesitated, as if there was something unspeakable.

"If it weren't for the little money you gave me, I would have starved to death. I live on it." He bowed solemnly and obsequiously, and went out of the room.Philip felt sad for a while, and his throat choked.He seemed to understand somewhat that the old man was struggling in desperate pain, and just when Philip thought life was so good, life was so difficult for the old man.