The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard

  August, September.

  It occurred to me one Sunday morning to watch for the moment whenMademoiselle Prefere's pupils were leaving the school in processionto attend Mass at the parish church. I watched them passing two bytwo,--the little ones first with very serious faces. There were three ofthem all dressed exactly alike--dumpy, plump, important-looking littlecreatures, whom I recognized at once as the Mouton girls. Their eldersister is the artist who drew that terrible head of Tatius, King ofthe Sabines. Beside the column, the assistant school-teacher, with herprayer-book in her hand, was gesturing and frowning. Then came the nextoldest class, and finally the big girls, all whispering to each other,as they went by. But I did not see Jeanne.

  I went to police-headquarters and inquired whether they chanced tohave, filed away somewhere or other, any information regarding theestablishment in the Rue Demours. I succeeded in inducing them to sendsome female inspectors there. These returned bringing with them the mostfavourable reports about the establishment. In their opinion the PrefereSchool was a model school. It is evident that if I were to force aninvestigation, Mademoiselle Prefere would receive academic honours.