my courage did not go the length of making me cry out to my schoolfellows: “whoever wishes to have a fight has only to touch lehardy!” i only waited, determined that another time, should he need my protection, he would not have to look for it in vain.

my good resolutions, i need not say, had no effect in changing my appearance. my nose had always excited laughter, and it did so no less now; when the boys made jokes about me, and gave me nicknames, such as azor and toucan, i did not dream of using my fists against them. no; my courage, if you could call it courage at all, had nothing aggressive in it; it was expectant only. my schoolfellows saw no change in the unfortunate bicquerot, at whom they were accustomed to poke their fun.

still, come what might, i was decided that if any boy attempted to molest lehardy, i would interfere, and would fight with all my strength in the cause of the poor little fellow whom i had deserted in such a cowardly way before. it was very strange that i should have felt so brave upon this one subject, and that my courage should have stopped there. the idea of resenting attacks upon myself never occurred to me. my thoughts were all taken up with the punishment of lehardy’s aggressors.

i leave the trouble of deciding why my courage should have first appeared in this form, to any profound philosopher who may think it worth his while to consider the subject. was it from a want of logic, or absence of selfishness?