But a fortnight after came an unstamped letter summoning him tothe Ministry, and after a three hours' wait he was shown intoMonsieur Bargemont's private room. He recognized his own dictationin the big man's hand.
"I am sorry," the functionary began, "to inform you that youhave entirely failed to pass the tests set you. You do not knowthe language of your own country, sir; you write _Maisons-Lafitte_without an 's' to _Maisons_. You cannot spell! and what is more,you do not cross your 't's.' You _must_ know at your age thata 't' ought to be crossed. It's past understanding, sir!"And striking fiercely at the sheet of foolscap on which the mistakeswere marked in red ink, he kept muttering: "It's past understanding,past understanding!" His face grew purple, and a swollen veinstood out on his forehead. A queer look in Jean's face gave himpause:
"Young man," he resumed in a calmer voice, "whatever I can dofor you, I will do, be sure of that; but you must not ask me todo impossibilities. We cannot enlist in the service of the Stateyoung men who spell so badly they write _Maisons-Lafitte_ withoutan 's' to the _Maisons_. It is in a way a patriotic duty for aFrenchman to know his own language. A year hence, the Ministrywill hold another examination, and I will enter your name. You havea year before you; work hard, sir, and learn your mother-tongue."Jean stood there scarlet with rage, hate in his heart, his eyesaflame, his throat dry, his teeth clenched, unable to articulatea word; then he swung round like an automaton and darted fromthe room, banging the door after him with a noise of thunder;piles of books and papers rolled on to the floor of the Chief'soffice at the shock.
Monsieur Bargemont was left alone to digest his stupefaction; evenso his first thought was to save the honour of his Department.
He reopened the door and shouted, "Leave the room!" after Jean,who, mastered once more by his natural timidity, was flying likea thief down the corridors.