Chapter 24

Hannibal entered the room and halted. Uncle Kristijonas and aunt Rose instantly rose from their chairs. Hannibal's face was completely blank, so they waited for him to speak first. After a moment, too long to be comfortable for anyone but Hannibal, he walked across the room, and poured himself some water from a carafe.

The tension was almost visible in the room, even though they knew he could only have passed his baccalauréat, since his grades had always been perfect. Yet, if it was to be Hannibal to bring the news, they would not ask for it. But Hannibal knew how to play with people these days. As a fourteen year old, he was perhaps the youngest student ever to take the bac, but he was quite up to it. In various ways, he was even beyond it.

His uncle had taken care of Hannibal's education, he had hired him private tutors. And as soon as Hannibal had reached the level to go to a lycée, uncle Kristijonas had him go to Louis-le-Grand. Now, after one year, he had taken this test that would entitle him to study at one of the grandes écoles.

Then, as if suddenly he remembered something irrelevant, he said:

"Oh yes, I passed my bac."

Aunt Rose clapped her hands in joy, uncle Kristijonas laughed and walked over to congratulate him.

"Well done, Hannibal. I knew you would pass."

"So did I," answered Hannibal.

"Congratulations," said aunt Rose and hugged him.

"I never told you what I wanted to study after my baccalauréat. I believe now is the moment to inform you of my plans. With your approval, I would like to study both medicine and mathematics."

Uncle Kristijonas was surprised. He knew Hannibal was smart, but had not expected this. But as he knew Hannibal would never start something he could not finish, he agreed with his choice.

"It will be quite a challenge, Hannibal. But challenges do not frighten you. I'm sure you will succeed."

"Indeed, they don't frighten me, uncle Kristijonas. And thank you for your support in everything, especially finding me the apartment."

Kristijonas Lecter smiled and nodded.

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The frogs had been preserved before the war, in formaldehyde. What color their organs ever had, could no longer be perceived. But the students would have to do with these specimens. Each frog had four admiring students, except one frog that was studied and drawn by only three students. To escape the malodorous gathering of people and chemicals, Hannibal had looked at the frog for a few moments as it had been placed on the table, then he had withdrawn to the back of the laboratory and sketched it there from memory.

Professor Bienville liked full attention from his students, and was suspicious of the solitary boy in the back. He walked over and demanded to see the boy's sketches. Hannibal handed the professor his sheets. The professor was perhaps a clever man in his field of study, and the material he had written for the students a challenge to most of them, his face was such an easy read for Hannibal. He could see the suspiciousness, the surprise, the amazement, the judgment and the appreciation. Quite boring, actually, this man.

"Someone should see these. I will return them to you later," said the man sourly. "Right now, you can clean the sinks and return the preserved mice to the cupboard."

"Yes, professor."

The man returned to the front of the class. Hannibal finished other drawings he had been working on. They were not drawings of frogs, but men's faces, dirty and bitter. They were the faces of the looters. Hannibal had written the forenames under each likeness, in Carolingian script, and the style of drawing Hannibal had used to depict them was rather unbecoming to the faces.

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Hannibal's study of Mathematics started rather dull. Hannibal had hoped he would actually learn something, but he found the first semester filled mostly with lectures on topics he already knew. He decided not to attend those anymore.

There was one professor whose lectures on Linear Algebra he did attend. First because it was new to him, second because the man knew how to teach. When he lectured, the other students turned quiet and paid full attention. Hannibal could not care less for his fellow-students. And the others did not care for him, either. But Hannibal enjoyed the tranquility that prevailed during these hours.

It happened frequently that Hannibal would remain seated at the end of a lecture, and once the other students had left the room, he would walk over to the professor and ask him questions. The first time he had done that, the professor had been taken aback by the young student's bright maroon eyes that shone with intelligence and studiousness. As he noticed that the boy understood everything he said, and challenged him with the questions he asked, he opened up to the boy. But he felt the boy did not respond likewise, and maintained the professional student - professor distance.

Some time later, after another lecture, the professor shared his knowledge on Gauss. They had just finished the Gaussian elimination. So he told Hannibal about Gauss' magnum opus, Disquisitiones Arithmeticae, and that he had written them at the age of 21. But he also told him about his conflicts with his sons, and that two of them migrated to the United States.

Linear Algebra pleased Hannibal for its lack of hypotheses. It was straight-forward, there was no 'what if'. He had decided long ago to trust nobody, and to question everything. In all the chaos that prevailed in life, this was an absolute truth. Hannibal wanted truth, and absolutes. Those were the only things he would count upon.