Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Yes, I've taken your advice, and in the last chapter he was eight. Making him nine in this one.
August 19, 1815
Yesterday, Henri and I went into the forest by mistake. Of course, instead of fixing our mistake and leaving, we decided to go in a little bit further.
But we went in a lot further, and we got lost. So we didn't eat for a really long time. It was early this afternoon when we found our way out, and we went in yesterday morning. We were very hungry.
Then I thought about the gamins. Maman tells me that I think too much about them and that no good will ever come of it, but I can't help it. I can't imagine being in so much pain again, with my head spinning and stomach aching, and my arms and legs not moving right because I'm so hungry.
But some people have to live like that all the time.
I said something about that to Fleur where Papa could hear me. And Papa said "you will find, Julien, that such people are not people at all."
I have now been sent to my room where I have to stay until tomorrow morning with no dinner for my answer: "You're right. Some people are not people, Papa. You are one of them."
Papa says that "this ought to teach me a lesson for my impertinence." Well, Papa. This has taught me a lesson, and that lesson is that you are not always right.
But I'm still hungry.
August 20
It's close to noon, and I've still not been let out of my room. Maman says that I can't come out until I apologize to Papa and admit that I was wrong and never mention the gamins again.
I might apologize to Papa, but I wasn't wrong, and I can't not mention the gamins.
I can't eat until I leave my room.
Maybe I'll die up here.
August 21
Maman let me out last night. I was very tired because I was hungry, but I was so hungry that I couldn't sleep. She did something very odd, though. On the way down the stairs, she whispered in my ear. "I'm very sorry, dear Julien, that that had to happen to you. Given my way, I would never have allowed it."
When we stepped into the kitchen, Papa struck me across the face without saying anything, and then went up the other staircase. Then Maman gave me some food and I went to bed.
It is morning now, and my face still hurts.
I think I'll go see Henri. Maybe his family would let me live with them. I would like that better.
August 24
For school, I am to read a book by a man named Rousseau. I don't understand everything that he says, but I really like it, in a strange way. It reminds me a little of Utopia, but it's very different.
I like this man's ideas. I told Maman so, and she left the room, muttering to herself about a man named Robespierre and rolling heads.
I have no idea what that means, so I'll just let it be for now.
August 25
Papa came into the library today when I was reading Rousseau. He asked me how much I'd read, and I showed him- I'm about a third of the way done. Then, without saying anything, he grabbed the book from me and threw it in the fire.
It upset me a lot. I wanted to cry, but I didn't because I knew that Papa might enjoy it.
I mentioned it to Henri, and his eyes got really big. Then he said that burning books is very uncivilized, and I told him that I agree.
No one that's a real person would ever burn a book.
August 29
Henri's sister, Noelle, turned ten years old today. We were planning a picnic for her so that all four of us could celebrate, but instead Noelle had to go inside and put on some fancy clothes that made her look older than she really is. We weren't allowed to see her.
Henri looks sad.
August 30
We went back to try to have the picnic today, but Noelle isn't allowed to go on picnics anymore. I bet she feels lonely.
We went inside to see her. She was in the parlor, stitching something. It said, "One by one, your dreams may come true."
It was sad because I think that Noelle's dreams weren't to sit inside all day and stay out of the sun and sew, but it's what she has to do.
August 31
I'm very angry at Papa. Papa thinks that if one is in a position of power, they can never be wrong. He says that even "to suggest a thing is sacrilegious."
I asked him if an authority is allowed to make a mistake.
He said that that "is inconsequential, for the authorities do not make mistakes."
I understood right then that he didn't mean authorities. He meant him, as the head of the house, and burning my Rousseau. So I asked him if anything was different if the authorities don't make a mistake, but do the wrong thing because of the wrong reason. He asked me what I mean, and I gave him an example: What if the government was overlooking the poor and not allowing people to have rights that we should all have as human beings just because they want more money?
Papa's face went slack, and I am, again, stuck in my room.
I'm hungry again.