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"Bells, Books & Balls - A Cajun Love story//Chapter Three" by PaulBourgeois

Flashback to broaden the impact of the first two chapters and give development to the main characters.

Category: Book: 1st Chapter

Tags: Chpater three of literary/mainstream novel.

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Chapter Three

         Emile Lavigne grew up along Bayou Lafourche in the main house that rests on posts elevated eighteen inches above the ground to protect them from the high waters of spring thaw when the bayou overflows the land and water sweeps underneath the house. In the summer’s evening, his family sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch exchanging gossip with family, friends and relatives. An old dilapidated cabin where Emile played as a child stands on the hill in a clump of trees on the edge of the water. His ancestor, Jacque Lavigne, built this cabin of Cyprus on this land when he first arrived from Acadia in 1762 and developed it into a productive farm.

         Emile grew up speaking Cajun French, the language of his people, but so did everyone along the bayou. His first grade teacher, Madame Moulton, insisted on English at school. But young Emile didn’t need the English; French served him well at home and at school. Each time she caught him using the forbidden words, she rapped his hand with a ruler.

         “Speak English!” she commanded. “You must speak English!”         

         Emile felt her sting frequently that year for his errant tongue but he refused to speak English. Before summer vacation, Mrs. Moulton pulled him aside.

         “Emile, I am holding you back in first grade,” she said.

         “Pour quoi?”

         “Because you don’t know enough English.”

         “Pas d’besoin.” The boy stood his ground.

         “The state requires it. And if you don’t learn English next year, you will stay in first grade yet another year. Do you understand?”

         Emile fidgeted. She placed her hands on her hips and waited. Silence.

         Emile didn’t care about being kept back. But when his friends called him retarded, he chased them down and bruised his knuckles on their chins and teeth. His mother chided him to learn the English; his sisters warned him that Madame Moulton meant what she said. He gave in, not because of their arguments but because he wanted to stay up with his friends.

         Emile’s young mind worked out its own solution. Madame Moulton would have to pass him to second grade if he learned English better than anyone else in his class. He pestered his siblings, his friends, and his neighbors to help him pronounce those difficult English words; his relentless pursuit drove them all to avoid him. He visited Madame Moulton at her home, he begged her to help him. She was a wily one, that one was. She made him do chores around her house, rake leaves, weed her flowerbeds, and mow her lawn. When she instructed him, she forced him to pronounce each word precisely and when he got it right, she made him repeat them ten times.

            Emile’s dogged persistence and Madame Moulton’s dedication taught him English far beyond the first grade level.  Madame Moulton took a liking to him and guided him through school. She challenged him to learn about his Cajun heritage and she inspired precision in both English and French. He studied Latin and Spanish because they related to French. By the time he graduated from high school, he had focused on the different colloquies that were Cajun. Emile’s hard work and dedication earned him a scholarship to Southwestern Louisiana Institute (SLI), in Lafayette to study languages.

            That summer his father died and he decided to forego his scholarship to keep the farm going.

            “No. You go to university,” His mother said. “You have opportunity no other in this family has. You go.”

            She sold the farm and went to live with Hilda, her widowed sister in Lafayette.

            At SLI, Emile tutored for extra money. In his senior year, his department head offered him a position teaching French grammar to freshmen and in the second semester, he assigned Emile a grader so he could teach an extra session.

         When his grader first came to him, she announced, “My name is Yvonne Guidreaux. I’m from Thibodaux.” She cocked her head to one side, smiled in an arrogant sort of way that only added to her allure.

         “What a step down to be assigned to a student instructor,” she said. But she stayed on.

         One day, he told her a joke. The sparkle in her green eyes when she laughed caught his attention. He watched her correcting quizzes. She finished, turned the stack of papers over and started through them a second time.

         “What are you doing?” he asked.

         “I’m correcting the test from your class.” She looked puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

         “You just went through that whole stack and you are doing them again.”

         “I want to see if I made any errors.” She smiled slowly and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you watching me?”

         “No. …Yes…I mean, I just saw you finish and start over again.” Emile turned to his work and tried very hard to ignore her.

         On the second Friday into the semester, Emile returned from class and found Yvonne still at her table with a canvas propped up in front of her. He walked around his desk to examine it as she leaned back so he could see the watercolor, a beautiful picture of the university grounds - the view from his window.

         “That is beautiful.”

         She flushed and bowed her head.

         “How about a movie and a coke?” he asked.

         “A date?”

         “I don’t date students.”

         “O.K. As long as we both understand, this is not a real date,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She placed the canvas next to her bag on the floor leaning against the desk to dry. He took her to a movie and to the drug store then walked her to her boarding house.

         The next week, she sat in the corner of his office, quiet, and did not disturb him. On Friday they went to a movie then walked to the drug store for sodas. They sat at a quiet table talking for hours, trading stories of childhood experiences, likes and dislikes, dreams for the future. He walked her home again. Soon, Emile felt he could tell Yvonne anything. As the end of the year approached, a dark mood settled over him at their pending separation.

         Emile invited Yvonne to his graduation and he walked her home still wearing his cap and gown. As they approached her boarding house, he turned and casually asked, “If I were financially secure, would you marry me?” He expected a quick-witted, sharp-tongued quip in response, but her answer came back matter-of-fact and clear.

         “Yes, I will.”

         Emile felt a thrill; he understood the difference in the factual, “I will” and the conditional, “I would”.

         They were married two weeks later.

         Emile and Yvonne both accepted teaching positions in a small schoolhouse in Rayne, Louisiana and five children came to them in rapid succession. He entered graduate school at River Ridge University in the city of River Ridge between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Each summer, Emile moved his growing family to River Ridge where he rented a house from Melvin LaRouche, a professor at the university, so he could attend summer sessions. He earned his masters degree in five summers and a scholarship to the University of Chicago for his doctoral work in Linguistics. And that is where the search committee from River Ridge University found him and invited him to the university for the final round of interviews. His landlord in River Ridge, Melvin LaRouche, headed up the search committee.

            The distance from Chicago to River Ridge spanned that great chasm between the Cajun culture and the political and social scene at River Ridge University. As the train approached the station, the conductor lurched into the passenger car calling out in a singsong voice, “River Ridge, next stop, River Ridge”. Emile felt the thrill of anticipation as he watched the red brick station come into view through the window.

    They exited the train and stepped to the edge of the platform as other travelers greeted relatives or friends. The sweet scent of spring flowers mingled with their hopes and dreams of a goal almost achieved. Emile searched the station platform but Bernhard, the department head of the language department, but he was not there to meet them.

         Emile strolled arm-in-arm with Yvonne on the platform beside the hissing train that spewed warm steam full of hope and dreams. They waited in silence as the crowd dispersed and the train departed leaving them alone on the platform. Shadows moved across the open spaces and the coolness of the March evening crept in. Emile pulled his collar up around his neck and helped Yvonne into her sweater. As darkness came, they moved into the station to a wooden bench near the steam heater.

          “Bernard did agree to meet us?” Yvonne asked.

         “Yes. He must be delayed. We’ll wait for him.”

         “Why not call Melvin?”

         “Melvin is leading the search committee. It would put him in an awkward position.”

         “So here we sit.”

         Emile refused three offers from the station clerk to call a cab before he relented and they went to their hotel just off campus.

            The following morning, Emile walked briskly across the campus, head held high, his face turned slightly to one side, tilted up in a mannerism distinguishing him from students. The crisp air and the deep blue sky contrasted to the bone-chilling cold he had left behind in Chicago. He walked across campus under the broad canopies of live oaks. Bright red Azaleas bordering the path intimated springtime. Poignant memories of five summers spent here made him a student again. Here is where he wanted to teach, to research, to pursue his career.

    Emile approached the receptionist in the anteroom of the chairman’s office. The varnished nameplate on the desk read “Linda Dupuis”. Emile recognized the Cajun name but the girl behind the desk did not look Cajun.

         “I’m here to see Dr. Bernhard.”

         “And you are?”

         “Emile Lavigne. I’m here for an interview.”

         “Dr. Bernhard stepped out for a moment,” she said. “Would you please take a seat?” She turned back to her work.

         Emile watched the girl as she went about her duties. She wore her hair pulled tight behind her head framing a small face that was at once innocent and mysterious. When she saw him watching her, he glanced away but she continued to look at him.

          A tall man with graying black hair and wearing a dark blue suit, impeccably coiffed, entered the receptionist area and walked into the inner office. Linda Dupuis trailed behind him. When she came back to her desk she said, “Dr. Bernhard will see you in a moment.”

         Emile had gone to school with Dupuis’ but none quite as fair as this.

         The phone rang and he watched her answer it with eyes downcast. She looked up and gestured with her yellow lead pencil toward the inner office.

         She hung up the phone. “Dr. Bernhard will see you now.”

         When he passed her desk, she whispered, “Good luck”.

         Emile walked in and stood in front of the desk. Dr. Bernhard remained seated. “Monsieur Emile C. Lavigne,” he said as he flipped through pages of Emile’s Vitae. His “mon” in “monsieur” sounded too nasal. A French professor’s pronunciation must be precise, especially with the five nasals.Emile picked up a chair and moved it closer to the desk.

         “Impressive record,” Bernhard said. “... And already published.” He closed the Vitae. “You must understand, Monsieur Lavigne, this language department has a quality faculty. I am looking for someone who fits in, an expert to bridge that gap between ‘Le Bon Français’ and ‘Cajun French’. You are aware that I am considering two other candidates for this position?”

          “I know other candidates are being considered.”

         The Chairman continued. “I am looking for an expert in linguistics, a proficient classroom instructor and an accomplished researcher. I must select the right person.” He hesitated a moment then added, “Dr. Prescott insists on meeting each candidate before I make my final decision.”

         Emile felt secure knowing the university president would have an input. He followed Bernhard to the outer office.

         “Miss Dupuis, take Mister Lavigne to Dr. Prescott’s office.” Bernhard handed her the Vitae.

    Emile felt the slight. This was the second time Bernhard called him “Mister”. Most academics afforded him the title “Doctor” in deference to his having already met the requirements for his degree.

         Emile turned his attention to the young woman beside him. She carried that southern-belle “J’ne sais quoi” quality about her, a mysterious allure conjured up at will.

         “What’s your major? … French?” he guessed.

         “Yes. I would so much like to be a part of that research center Dr. Bernhard wants to establish on campus.” She spoke softly, sweetly, through full lips with her eyes downcast.

         A beautiful girl with high ambition – a dangerous combination.

         The campanile chimed the hour as they strode along the sidewalk connecting the two buildings.

         “My father wanted me to take a job but Dr. Bernhard got me a scholarship instead. He extended my scholarship to cover graduate school. I owe Dr. Bernhard so much.”

         Emile wondered about her relationship with Dr. Bernhard. “You must be a good student,” he said.

         She flushed as he held the door for her. He sensed the softness of her body press against his hand as she stepped around him. He quickly pulled his arm away. She smiled and proceeded down the hall. At the end of the hallway, she leaned inside Prescott’s office. “Good morning, Dr. Prescott.”

         Prescott wore gold-framed glasses. He stood up and approached Emile.

    Linda faced Emile in the doorway. “You can find your way back, ‘non’?” Her pronunciation of the nasal “non” was perfect. She handed Prescott the Vitae.

         Emile shook hands with Dr. Prescott and sat across from him at the table. Emile felt relaxed and content as he watched Prescott flip through the pages of his Vitae.

         “Finally, a real scholar”, Prescott said. “You must have heard about my Cajun Studies Research Center. I want a center established at this university that attracts scholars from all around to study our diverse language, its origins and its parallels to continental French. The Senator is pressing me to go after scarce WPA dollars before they go away to start this center.”

         “Dr. Prescott, this is precisely the direction I wish to take my career.”

         Prescott broke into a no-nonsense smile. “Then it’s settled. Your mandate is to establish my research center at River Ridge. You have a unique opportunity to elevate the reputation and prestige of my language department.”

         Prescott stood up. “Congratulations and welcome to River Ridge University. You introduce a unique flavor to this faculty. You must bring academic credibility to a foundering department.”

         Emile left Prescott’s office and walked across campus toward his hotel. He thought about the discrepancy in the two views of the language department and was deep in thought when he heard his name called. He looked up and there was Melvin LaRouche.

          Melvin volunteered, “You impressed Bernhard with your interview and believe me, that is quite an accomplishment.”

          “He didn’t seem too impressed. Prescott was different. He wants me to establish his research center.”

          “Prescott directed him to interview you. He wants a native to establish his center. Bernhard came around when he realized you could get the center here and he could take credit for it.”

          “I concluded something like that.”

          “There’s a downside. Now, Bernhard can make you look bad without looking bad himself.”

          “Why would Bernhard do such a thing?”

          “Why does Bernhard do any of the things he does?”

          “Like not meeting us at the train?”

          Melvin stared at him, his mouth opened. “He didn’t meet the train?

          “No. He must have been too busy.”

           “I volunteered to meet you,” he said. “He wanted to meet you himself so he could explain the search process. He means for us to be having this conversation.”

          “Could be he just forgot,” Emile said.

          “Bernhard doesn’t forget. He plans every detail. Did he apologize to you today?”

          “It didn’t come up.”

          “There, you have it. He knew you wouldn’t bring it up. That’s the way he is. He could have made some excuse, even a lame one. I warn you, you had best be very careful.”

          “It’s not that important.  

         Later that afternoon, Bernhard called his hotel and offered him the position.

 


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1. Chapter Three

2.          Emile Lavigne grew up along Bayou Lafourche in the main house that rests on posts elevated eighteen inches above the ground to protect them from the high waters of spring thaw when the bayou overflows the land and water sweeps underneath the house. In the summer’s evening, his family sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch exchanging gossip with family, friends and relatives. An old dilapidated cabin where Emile played as a child stands on the hill in a clump of trees on the edge of the water. His ancestor, Jacque Lavigne, built this cabin of Cyprus on this land when he first arrived from Acadia in 1762 and developed it into a productive farm.

3.          Emile grew up speaking Cajun French, the language of his people, but so did everyone along the bayou. His first grade teacher, Madame Moulton, insisted on English at school. But young Emile didn’t need the English; French served him well at home and at school. Each time she caught him using the forbidden words, she rapped his hand with a ruler.

4.          “Speak English!” she commanded. “You must speak English!”         

5.          Emile felt her sting frequently that year for his errant tongue but he refused to speak English. Before summer vacation, Mrs. Moulton pulled him aside.

6.          “Emile, I am holding you back in first grade,” she said.

7.          “Pour quoi?”

8.          “Because you don’t know enough English.”

9.          “Pas d’besoin.” The boy stood his ground.

10.          “The state requires it. And if you don’t learn English next year, you will stay in first grade yet another year. Do you understand?”

11.          Emile fidgeted. She placed her hands on her hips and waited. Silence.

12.          Emile didn’t care about being kept back. But when his friends called him retarded, he chased them down and bruised his knuckles on their chins and teeth. His mother chided him to learn the English; his sisters warned him that Madame Moulton meant what she said. He gave in, not because of their arguments but because he wanted to stay up with his friends.

13.          Emile’s young mind worked out its own solution. Madame Moulton would have to pass him to second grade if he learned English better than anyone else in his class. He pestered his siblings, his friends, and his neighbors to help him pronounce those difficult English words; his relentless pursuit drove them all to avoid him. He visited Madame Moulton at her home, he begged her to help him. She was a wily one, that one was. She made him do chores around her house, rake leaves, weed her flowerbeds, and mow her lawn. When she instructed him, she forced him to pronounce each word precisely and when he got it right, she made him repeat them ten times.

14.             Emile’s dogged persistence and Madame Moulton’s dedication taught him English far beyond the first grade level.  Madame Moulton took a liking to him and guided him through school. She challenged him to learn about his Cajun heritage and she inspired precision in both English and French. He studied Latin and Spanish because they related to French. By the time he graduated from high school, he had focused on the different colloquies that were Cajun. Emile’s hard work and dedication earned him a scholarship to Southwestern Louisiana Institute (SLI), in Lafayette to study languages.

15.             That summer his father died and he decided to forego his scholarship to keep the farm going.

16.             “No. You go to university,” His mother said. “You have opportunity no other in this family has. You go.”

17.             She sold the farm and went to live with Hilda, her widowed sister in Lafayette.

18.             At SLI, Emile tutored for extra money. In his senior year, his department head offered him a position teaching French grammar to freshmen and in the second semester, he assigned Emile a grader so he could teach an extra session.

19.          When his grader first came to him, she announced, “My name is Yvonne Guidreaux. I’m from Thibodaux.” She cocked her head to one side, smiled in an arrogant sort of way that only added to her allure.

20.          “What a step down to be assigned to a student instructor,” she said. But she stayed on.

21.          One day, he told her a joke. The sparkle in her green eyes when she laughed caught his attention. He watched her correcting quizzes. She finished, turned the stack of papers over and started through them a second time.

22.          “What are you doing?” he asked.

23.          “I’m correcting the test from your class.” She looked puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

24.          “You just went through that whole stack and you are doing them again.”

25.          “I want to see if I made any errors.” She smiled slowly and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you watching me?”

26.          “No. …Yes…I mean, I just saw you finish and start over again.” Emile turned to his work and tried very hard to ignore her.

27.          On the second Friday into the semester, Emile returned from class and found Yvonne still at her table with a canvas propped up in front of her. He walked around his desk to examine it as she leaned back so he could see the watercolor, a beautiful picture of the university grounds - the view from his window.

28.          “That is beautiful.”

29.          She flushed and bowed her head.

30.          “How about a movie and a coke?” he asked.

31.          “A date?”

32.          “I don’t date students.”

33.          “O.K. As long as we both understand, this is not a real date,” she said with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She placed the canvas next to her bag on the floor leaning against the desk to dry. He took her to a movie and to the drug store then walked her to her boarding house.

34.          The next week, she sat in the corner of his office, quiet, and did not disturb him. On Friday they went to a movie then walked to the drug store for sodas. They sat at a quiet table talking for hours, trading stories of childhood experiences, likes and dislikes, dreams for the future. He walked her home again. Soon, Emile felt he could tell Yvonne anything. As the end of the year approached, a dark mood settled over him at their pending separation.

35.          Emile invited Yvonne to his graduation and he walked her home still wearing his cap and gown. As they approached her boarding house, he turned and casually asked, “If I were financially secure, would you marry me?” He expected a quick-witted, sharp-tongued quip in response, but her answer came back matter-of-fact and clear.

36.          “Yes, I will.”

37.          Emile felt a thrill; he understood the difference in the factual, “I will” and the conditional, “I would”.

38.          They were married two weeks later.

39.          Emile and Yvonne both accepted teaching positions in a small schoolhouse in Rayne, Louisiana and five children came to them in rapid succession. He entered graduate school at River Ridge University in the city of River Ridge between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. Each summer, Emile moved his growing family to River Ridge where he rented a house from Melvin LaRouche, a professor at the university, so he could attend summer sessions. He earned his masters degree in five summers and a scholarship to the University of Chicago for his doctoral work in Linguistics. And that is where the search committee from River Ridge University found him and invited him to the university for the final round of interviews. His landlord in River Ridge, Melvin LaRouche, headed up the search committee.

40.             The distance from Chicago to River Ridge spanned that great chasm between the Cajun culture and the political and social scene at River Ridge University. As the train approached the station, the conductor lurched into the passenger car calling out in a singsong voice, “River Ridge, next stop, River Ridge”. Emile felt the thrill of anticipation as he watched the red brick station come into view through the window.

41.     They exited the train and stepped to the edge of the platform as other travelers greeted relatives or friends. The sweet scent of spring flowers mingled with their hopes and dreams of a goal almost achieved. Emile searched the station platform but Bernhard, the department head of the language department, but he was not there to meet them.

42.          Emile strolled arm-in-arm with Yvonne on the platform beside the hissing train that spewed warm steam full of hope and dreams. They waited in silence as the crowd dispersed and the train departed leaving them alone on the platform. Shadows moved across the open spaces and the coolness of the March evening crept in. Emile pulled his collar up around his neck and helped Yvonne into her sweater. As darkness came, they moved into the station to a wooden bench near the steam heater.

43.           “Bernard did agree to meet us?” Yvonne asked.

44.          “Yes. He must be delayed. We’ll wait for him.”

45.          “Why not call Melvin?”

46.          “Melvin is leading the search committee. It would put him in an awkward position.”

47.          “So here we sit.”

48.          Emile refused three offers from the station clerk to call a cab before he relented and they went to their hotel just off campus.

49.             The following morning, Emile walked briskly across the campus, head held high, his face turned slightly to one side, tilted up in a mannerism distinguishing him from students. The crisp air and the deep blue sky contrasted to the bone-chilling cold he had left behind in Chicago. He walked across campus under the broad canopies of live oaks. Bright red Azaleas bordering the path intimated springtime. Poignant memories of five summers spent here made him a student again. Here is where he wanted to teach, to research, to pursue his career.

50.     Emile approached the receptionist in the anteroom of the chairman’s office. The varnished nameplate on the desk read “Linda Dupuis”. Emile recognized the Cajun name but the girl behind the desk did not look Cajun.

51.          “I’m here to see Dr. Bernhard.”

52.          “And you are?”

53.          “Emile Lavigne. I’m here for an interview.”

54.          “Dr. Bernhard stepped out for a moment,” she said. “Would you please take a seat?” She turned back to her work.

55.          Emile watched the girl as she went about her duties. She wore her hair pulled tight behind her head framing a small face that was at once innocent and mysterious. When she saw him watching her, he glanced away but she continued to look at him.

56.           A tall man with graying black hair and wearing a dark blue suit, impeccably coiffed, entered the receptionist area and walked into the inner office. Linda Dupuis trailed behind him. When she came back to her desk she said, “Dr. Bernhard will see you in a moment.”

57.          Emile had gone to school with Dupuis’ but none quite as fair as this.

58.          The phone rang and he watched her answer it with eyes downcast. She looked up and gestured with her yellow lead pencil toward the inner office.

59.          She hung up the phone. “Dr. Bernhard will see you now.”

60.          When he passed her desk, she whispered, “Good luck”.

61.          Emile walked in and stood in front of the desk. Dr. Bernhard remained seated. “Monsieur Emile C. Lavigne,” he said as he flipped through pages of Emile’s Vitae. His “mon” in “monsieur” sounded too nasal. A French professor’s pronunciation must be precise, especially with the five nasals.Emile picked up a chair and moved it closer to the desk.

62.          “Impressive record,” Bernhard said. “... And already published.” He closed the Vitae. “You must understand, Monsieur Lavigne, this language department has a quality faculty. I am looking for someone who fits in, an expert to bridge that gap between ‘Le Bon Français’ and ‘Cajun French’. You are aware that I am considering two other candidates for this position?”

63.           “I know other candidates are being considered.”

64.          The Chairman continued. “I am looking for an expert in linguistics, a proficient classroom instructor and an accomplished researcher. I must select the right person.” He hesitated a moment then added, “Dr. Prescott insists on meeting each candidate before I make my final decision.”

65.          Emile felt secure knowing the university president would have an input. He followed Bernhard to the outer office.

66.          “Miss Dupuis, take Mister Lavigne to Dr. Prescott’s office.” Bernhard handed her the Vitae.

67.     Emile felt the slight. This was the second time Bernhard called him “Mister”. Most academics afforded him the title “Doctor” in deference to his having already met the requirements for his degree.

68.          Emile turned his attention to the young woman beside him. She carried that southern-belle “J’ne sais quoi” quality about her, a mysterious allure conjured up at will.

69.          “What’s your major? … French?” he guessed.

70.          “Yes. I would so much like to be a part of that research center Dr. Bernhard wants to establish on campus.” She spoke softly, sweetly, through full lips with her eyes downcast.

71.          A beautiful girl with high ambition – a dangerous combination.

72.          The campanile chimed the hour as they strode along the sidewalk connecting the two buildings.

73.          “My father wanted me to take a job but Dr. Bernhard got me a scholarship instead. He extended my scholarship to cover graduate school. I owe Dr. Bernhard so much.”

74.          Emile wondered about her relationship with Dr. Bernhard. “You must be a good student,” he said.

75.          She flushed as he held the door for her. He sensed the softness of her body press against his hand as she stepped around him. He quickly pulled his arm away. She smiled and proceeded down the hall. At the end of the hallway, she leaned inside Prescott’s office. “Good morning, Dr. Prescott.”

76.          Prescott wore gold-framed glasses. He stood up and approached Emile.

77.     Linda faced Emile in the doorway. “You can find your way back, ‘non’?” Her pronunciation of the nasal “non” was perfect. She handed Prescott the Vitae.

78.          Emile shook hands with Dr. Prescott and sat across from him at the table. Emile felt relaxed and content as he watched Prescott flip through the pages of his Vitae.

79.          “Finally, a real scholar”, Prescott said. “You must have heard about my Cajun Studies Research Center. I want a center established at this university that attracts scholars from all around to study our diverse language, its origins and its parallels to continental French. The Senator is pressing me to go after scarce WPA dollars before they go away to start this center.”

80.          “Dr. Prescott, this is precisely the direction I wish to take my career.”

81.          Prescott broke into a no-nonsense smile. “Then it’s settled. Your mandate is to establish my research center at River Ridge. You have a unique opportunity to elevate the reputation and prestige of my language department.”

82.          Prescott stood up. “Congratulations and welcome to River Ridge University. You introduce a unique flavor to this faculty. You must bring academic credibility to a foundering department.”

83.          Emile left Prescott’s office and walked across campus toward his hotel. He thought about the discrepancy in the two views of the language department and was deep in thought when he heard his name called. He looked up and there was Melvin LaRouche.

84.           Melvin volunteered, “You impressed Bernhard with your interview and believe me, that is quite an accomplishment.”

85.           “He didn’t seem too impressed. Prescott was different. He wants me to establish his research center.”

86.           “Prescott directed him to interview you. He wants a native to establish his center. Bernhard came around when he realized you could get the center here and he could take credit for it.”

87.           “I concluded something like that.”

88.           “There’s a downside. Now, Bernhard can make you look bad without looking bad himself.”

89.           “Why would Bernhard do such a thing?”

90.           “Why does Bernhard do any of the things he does?”

91.           “Like not meeting us at the train?”

92.           Melvin stared at him, his mouth opened. “He didn’t meet the train?

93.           “No. He must have been too busy.”

94.            “I volunteered to meet you,” he said. “He wanted to meet you himself so he could explain the search process. He means for us to be having this conversation.”

95.           “Could be he just forgot,” Emile said.

96.           “Bernhard doesn’t forget. He plans every detail. Did he apologize to you today?”

97.           “It didn’t come up.”

98.           “There, you have it. He knew you wouldn’t bring it up. That’s the way he is. He could have made some excuse, even a lame one. I warn you, you had best be very careful.”

99.           “It’s not that important.  

100.          Later that afternoon, Bernhard called his hotel and offered him the position.

101.

102.  

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