When fifteen he accompanied his father and older brother to Paris, where
the older boy was to be installed in the Ecole Polytechnique. It was the
hope of the father that, once in Paris, Gustave would consent to remain
with his brother, and thus, by a change of base, a reform in his tastes
would come about and he would leave the Rhine with its foolish old-woman
tales and cease the detestable habit of picturing them.

It was the first time Gustave had ever been to Paris--the first time he
had ever visited a large city. He was fascinated, captivated, enthralled.
Paris was fairyland and paradise. He announced to his father and brother
that he would not return to Alsace, neither would he go to the
Polytechnique. They told him he must do either one or the other; and as
the father was going back home in two days, Gustave could have just
forty-eight hours in which to decide his destiny.

Passing by the office of the "Journal pour Rire," the father and son
gaping in all the windows like true rustics, they saw announced an
illustrated edition of "The Labors of Hercules." Some of the
illustrations were shown in the window with the hope of tempting possible
buyers. Gustave looked upon these illustrations with critical eye, and
his face flushed scarlet--but he said nothing.

He knew the book; aye, every tale in it, with all its possible
variations, had long been to him a bit of true history. To him Hercules
lived yesterday, and, confusing hearsay with memory, he was almost ready
to swear that he was present and used a shovel when the strong man
cleaned the Augean stables.

The next morning, when his father and brother were ready to go to visit
the Polytechnique, Gustave pleaded illness and was allowed to lie abed.