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of Wisdom, guide us – we repeated:
    Spirit of Truthfulness, teach us:
    Spirit of Charity, invigorate us:
    Spirit of Prudence, preserve us:
    Spirit of Strength, defend us:
    Spirit of Justice, enlighten us:
    Comforting spirit, soothe us. 1
    Emily looked bewildered, as did I, but we did as we were bid and repeated the phrases to the best of our abilities after which Monsieur proceeded to outline how our lessons with him would be conducted.
    He was dispensing with grammar, he said, with a keen flourish. Firstly we were going tolisten to him reading passages from the French classics so that we could acclimatize to the feeling and rhythm of well-written French. We would also begin, he hoped, to discern the motives behind each author’s work and their different styles. Yes! This was Monsieur Heger’s approach to the French language, a tried and tested method which had never failed him. We would afterwards critique what he had read out aloud and finally we would attempt to key into what the author had written as a piano tuner might attempt to tune his instrument by imitating the writer as closely as possible in subjects of our own choosing.
    ‘This is the only way to learn a language. From the heart,’ he said, dramatically thumping his chest. ‘I want you to find the
truth
,’ he added emphasizing ‘truth’ as if life itself depended upon it. ‘Spirit of Truth; teach us!’
    Can words conjure up desire? Can they jolt the mind physically? Disturb the body spiritually? At that moment I believed so.
    Monsieur picked up a book. ‘Ecoutez!’ he shouted as loudly as the bells of Ste Gudule and before we could even draw breath he had begun on an intimidating passage from Chateaubriand’s
Prière du Soir à bord d’un Vaisseau
. I closed my eyes, allowing the words to wash over and through me, occasionally pinpointing a familiar sentence as if I had glimpsed dry land but otherwise overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and magnificence of the ocean itself. I did not even peep to see how Emily fared although, when Monsieur Heger eventually came to a halt and I opened my eyes again, I could tell something was worrying my sister because of the frown creasing her forehead.
    Monsieur closed the book and placed it back on the shelf behind him.
    ‘Do you see how the author shaped his argument? How each scene was described and how each description consequently led into the main discussion? Each word, I believe, wasscripted for that very purpose. Each phrase calculated to lead you into following the first topic then onto the second and so on and so on – ’ Monsieur Heger continued to critique Chateaubriand, illustrating various points by the repetition of a sentence here, a paragraph there after which Emily and I had our say although, and I do not mention this to boast, I contributed more than my little sister during this part of the lesson because I had understood more. Nevertheless Monsieur seemed happy with both of us, until that is, he repeated his request that our homework should comprise of writing an essay in the style of Chateaubriand.
    ‘I cannot do that,’ Emily said.
    Monsieur Heger looked puzzled.
    He cocked his head to one side just as he had done at our first meeting.
    ‘What is the point,’ Emily continued realizing she needed to expand further, ‘in imitating someone else’s style? I have my own style, my own way of saying things, to imitate someone else is to show a lack of imagination.’
    ‘No, no,’ Monsieur Heger was swift to correct her, ‘not when you are learning a language. This is the best way I can assure you of acclimatizing yourself to your new surroundings. If you were to walk through a jungle, you would want the best guide to show you the way rather than to march off on your own. Your route would be slow, you might get lost?’
    Much to my astonishment (and slight discomfort) Emily begged to differ. ‘Sir, I do not see it like that. If I were to walk out into a jungle …’
    ‘Mademoiselle? –