Wednesday morning;
September, 16, 1829;

Ecole Polytechnique (Hotel de Lassays), rue de la Montagne Saint-Genevieve & rue Descartes, Paris.

As a newly-minted sophomore of that prestigious academy of higher learning which he had been attending for just over a year, Charles-Philippe Valcour appeared
more like a clumsy buffoon that crisp mid-September morning than an orderly and graceful student that he was supposed to be; stumbling and falling more than once; papers and books sent flying and scattering about, causing him to wildly rush about, feverishly gathering up his fallen and scattered items before making a mad dash across a traffic circle that lay outside the grand entrance to the Hotel de Lassays; a multistory stone masonry building housing the esteemed academic institute some simply called the Polytechnique.
Aware that he was running late to his chemistry class he made a reckless dash towards the building's main entrance-way across the street causing a pair of horses pulling a hackney carriage to rear up, their driver having suddenly yanked back on the reins in alarm.
"YOU IMBECILE!" the irate driver called out,
shaking a fist at the young science student,
"YOU ALMOST GOT YOURSELF TRAMPLED! YOU WOULD THINK YOU STUDENTS WOULD
BE SMART ENOUGH TO WATCH FOR TRAFFIC WHEN CROSSING A STREET!" he loudly berated the young man from Bayeux, who just stood there silent for a moment, looking sheepish and not a little eager to depart the scene as swiftly as possible.
"I'm sorry, Monsieur." Charles could think of nothing else to say at that awkward moment.
"Driver? Why are you allowing yourself to
be delayed by this young man?" impatiently asked a middle-aged male passenger of his,
"He's expressed his regrets. Let him go his way without any further comment from you. And we can proceed."
Charles, his face broadening in delight, recognized the passenger.
"Professeur Ampere?" he excitedly cried out.
Forgetting his chemistry class at that moment he eagerly rushed over to the carriage's cabin, startling both the driver and the passenger by his unexpected change of direction,
"I am delighted to meet you, Professeur!" he gushed, "I purchased and read your published work, Mathematical Theory of Electrodynamic Phenomena. I love it!..."
"That's nice. I'm glad you enjoyed it,"
Andre Ampere responded insincerely, impatiently scowling, "But I do have
a class to teach at Collegen de France, if you would allow this carriage to depart,"
Disappointment flashed across Charles-Philippe's face.
"They did tell me that you now teach mathematics and sciences there after resigning from the faculty here last year," he explained,
"I do hope you would change your mind and return! Is that why you are here today?"
Professor Andre-Marie Ampere's wearied face and baggy eyes told a different story: he shook his head.
"It won't happen, young man. I came here today to pick up some papers in person that had been prepared for me by my friend, Professeur Gay-Lussac..."
Surprised, Charles stammered excitedly,
"Remarkable! Professeur Gay-Lussac is my chemistry instructor...Oh! oh! oh!" the young man from Bayeux was suddenly reminded of an important appointment he was failing to meet, "I'm late for my chemistry class! I have to go!"
"I'm running late as well, young man!" Andre Ampere huffed, "but if you are interested in my science work as you claim, you're always
welcome to attend my lectures, Monsieur? Monsieur?!" the distinguished French scientist
raising his voice, looking out of both sides of the compartment of the now moving carriage to see if the young man heard him. The Polytechnique student was already up the stairs and near the entrance when he turned to respond loudly,
"My name is Charles-Philippe Valcour, Professeur Ampere! And I will take you up on your offer! Merci!"
The words were barely out of his mouth whe he once more turned to race to his classes, insufferably pleased with himself.