Je n'aime pas le français.// Closed for Msieurmariuspontmercy.
Constance sighed at the dreadful thought that she was going to be lock up in a classroom by this sunny day. The worst part wasn't that she was about to endure three hours of french litterature. The worst part was that she was going to be surrounded by stupid girls who can't help themselves from giggling when Monsieur Pontmercy was near them.It was, indeed, an handsome man but he was their teacher.
She entered into the classroom and she was delighted to see that the only free seat was at the back of the room. She might get some sleep whilst he would recite Voltaire.
He was late. He is always late according to her friends. His cheeks were red and he was breatless as he stepped in. She could hear the girls' comments about the reason why he was panting. She grimaced, disgusted by their salacious assumptions at looked up at him.