Free Confession by S. G. Klein Page B

mind as I walked under the trees. All of a sudden something small and hard hit my head. A cobnut had been deliberately aimed at me, rapidly followed by another and another, a shower of cobnuts!
    ‘Monsieur, what are you doing up there?’ I demanded as first Monsieur Heger’s legs appeared quickly followed by the rest of his body as he leapt from the tree onto the pathway in front of me.
    ‘Did I startle you?’ he asked brushing himself down.
    ‘You did not startle me, Monsieur,’ I replied, ‘but I did imagine a better creature than you was sitting up there in that tree trying to catch my attention.’
    ‘A better creature? An angel perhaps? Do you see angels, Mademoiselle?’
    ‘I was thinking of more earthly creatures. Squirrels, pigeons – ’
    ‘I am lowlier, in your opinion, than a pigeon?’
    ‘All creatures are equal in the eyes of God – ’
    ‘But not apparently in your eyes – ’
    ‘I think you are wilfully misconstruing what I have said. You are a very fine creature,Monsieur, just not one that I expected to find throwing nuts at me from a tree.’
    Monsieur Heger smiled.
    ‘I’ve always enjoyed tree climbing,’ he said glancing around him, ‘ever since I was a boy. Is Mademoiselle Emily not with you?’
    ‘She’s studying indoors. I came outside for some fresh air.’
    ‘You enjoy your walks?’
    ‘I am afraid Madame Heger does not approve.’
    ‘My wife worries about her pupils catching a chill. It is not our way to take walks at night-time, the air can be bad for one.’
    ‘We find quite the contrary.’
    ‘So you do,’ Monsieur Heger replied. ‘And I am inclined to agree. It is a shame to sit indoors on so lovely an evening and fresh air is a great healer of the soul as well as the body.
    ‘Nature in all her finery – ’
    ‘Nature and Truth.’
    At this point we had begun to wander down one of the paths. Now I stopped and touched thetrunk of an apple tree. ‘What is the truth of this tree?’ I said. ‘I cannot see it’s roots yet I can imagine them. I can hint at their invasiveness, the dark vaults of earth, the creatures that wriggle beneath – ’
    ‘Those pictures are based on fact,’ Monsieur Heger replied. ‘Someone has dug up those roots and studied that earth so that you may describe them – ’
    ‘But Imagination still plays her part,’ I insisted. ‘She is needed to make the picture truthful.’
    ‘Imagination has her place,’ here he stopped to light a cigar then leaning against the trunk of yet another tree, ‘but hers should never be the strongest voice. She is there to illuminate Truth, not to replace it. Never that. Imagination’s house should be built of materials that complement her surroundings, that enhance and highlight them – ’
    ‘Shall we never agree, Monsieur?’
    ‘We will,’ he said drawing deeply on his cigar, ‘but only when you realize I speak the truth!’
    It is one of my faults that, whilst in the midst of an argument, I never know when best to admit defeat. Were I a tiger or she-wolf defending her young, I would fight tooth and claw until my opponent had either ripped out my heart or slit my throat rather than live one moment in the knowledge that I had been vanquished.
    Arguments are there to be won.
    But I had never before encountered an adversary quite like my teacher. It was second nature for him to debate all manner of subjects, nor did he follow Convention by moderating his arguments to suit a female opponent. He squared up to me as much as I squared up to him.
    ‘ – but only when you realize that I speak the truth!’ he said.
    ‘And
when
you speak the truth Monsieur, I am sure I shall listen, but until that time I am more than content to follow my path.’
    ‘Rightly said although wrongly applied.’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘You are a strong defender of your own arguments, your arguments are indeed carved from flint. I defend your right to speak them, admire their adamantine nature but still have a duty to point out they