The Last Lesson at Montmartre
The apartment on Rue des Abbesses smelled of stale wine and chalk dust. Pierre Lefebvre didn't mind either smell. Wine he could buy for a franc a litre. Chalk dust was the price of knowledge, and knowledge, Pierre believed with the fierce conviction of the dangerously insane, was the only thing that mattered. "Tonight," he said, standing before his small blackboard with the fervour of a priest...
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