Suddenly the church clock struck twelve， then the Angelus rang. At the same moment， the bugles of the Prussians returning from drill blared under our windows. Monsieur Hamel rose， pale as death， from his chair. Never had he seemed to me so tall.
突然，教堂的钟声敲了十二下，而后是祈祷的钟声。与此同时，普鲁士士兵的操练完回营的号声在我们的窗户下回响……阿麦尔先生从椅子上站了起来，面色十分苍白。他在我的心目中，从来也没有显得这么高大。
“My friends，” he said， “my friends， I—I—”
“我的朋友们，”他说道，“我的朋友们，我……我……”
But something suffocated him. He could not finish the sentence.
Thereupon he turned to the blackboard， took a piece of chalk， and， bearing on with all his might， he wrote in the largest letters he could：
但是，有什么东西堵住了他的喉咙。他没能说完这句话。这时，他转过身子，拿起一截粉笔，使尽了全身力气，在黑板上尽可能大地写下几个字：
“VIVE LA FRANCE！”
Then he stood there， with his head resting against the wall， and without speaking， he motioned to us with his hand：
“That is all； go.”
“法兰西万岁！”
然后，他呆在那里，头靠着墙壁，一句话也不说，只是用手向我们示意：
“课完了……你们走吧”