The Years of Fire Read Online Free PDF

his mouth hanging open, paralyzed by surprise and admiration.
    COUNT
    Your impudence,
    You bold, old man, shall be your recompense.
    (Slaps him.)
    DON DIEGO
    (Drawing his sword.)
    Have at! And kill me after giving such affront,
    The first mark my race has suffered from another.
    COUNT
    (Disarming him easily.)
    What thought you to accomplish with such feebleness?
    DON DIEGO
    O God! My strength, worn out by all this care, departs!
    Charles, his hat askew, was contemplating an imaginary sword lying on the ground when Doyon re-entered the room and saw at a glance the measure of his defeat. Silently he took his place in the first row and watched the young adolescent on the stage, carried away by a kind of drunkenness, certain now of turning the trial that the principal had so maliciously imposed upon him into a veritable triumph, unaware even that his judge had returned to the room.
    “That’s enough!” Doyon suddenly shouted, pounding his fist violently on the stage. “What is the meaning of this ridiculous disguise, Thibodeau?”
    Six hundred eyes were fixed on Charles. Some with amusement, others with anxiety, still others with a cheeky delight. Slowly, Charles removed the hat and let it slip from his hand: the feather could be heard brushing the stage floor as it fell.
    “I.…I thought …”
    “You thought
what
, Monsieur Thibodeau?” spat the principal, whose empurpled forehead seemed to have sprouted a number of curious protuberances.
    “I thought,” babbled Charles, “that since the play … er … took place … uh … in the past … I mean, in the time of kings … well, I thought …”
    “I’ll tell you what you thought. I know exactly what was going through that stubborn head of yours, but which you now don’t have the courage to admit, Thibodeau. You thought that turning your punishment into a farce would give you a fine opportunity to ridicule AUTHORITY . Well, I’ve had enough of your insolence!” And he banged his fist again on the stage, which was unfortunately once too often for his watch strap.
    A light tremor, composed of desperately stifled giggles, ran through the room.
    “So that you will have time to reflect on all this, my friend, I am inviting you to remain away from this school until next Monday. Do you understand? And as for you lot,” he said, turning towards the students, who were becoming restless in their seats, “get back to your regular classes. Immediately!”
    “That was bloody good,” murmured Steve as he passed Charles. “You should be in the movies!”
    “Way to go! That was the best!” called Blonblon, with a wink. Others surreptitiously shook his hand or clapped him heartily on the shoulder. He had become a hero. Henri would never have to defend him again. From now on, his status would be his shield.
    He left the school still absorbed in the scene he’d been playing on the stage. He sat for a moment on the school’s front steps, partly out of bravado but also because his legs were shaking and he needed a rest. It was the beginning of December. Although there was still no snow, the chill in the air soon made him stand up.
    “You stupid old idiot!” he mentally shouted to the principal as he walked down the street. “You can keep me out of your stupid school for a month for all I care. Blonblon and Henri will lend me their notes, and it’ll be a holiday!” He was filled with a sense of pride and freedom, which quickly gave way to a feeling of anxiety. How would Lucie and Fernand react to his being suspended from school? The hell with it. He’d tell them exactly what had happened, and the principal would appear as odious in their eyes as he already was in his.

2
    I n his haste to leave the school he had forgotten his gloves, and by the time he neared home his hands were numb from the cold. He saw an ambulance parked in front of Chez Robert, its roof light flashing, and a small group of people huddled around the entrance to the restaurant. He