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A great humming of bees about the flowers disposed Jean-Marie to sleep, and he sat down against a clump of heather, while the Doctor went briskly to and fro, with quick turns, culling his simples. The boy's head had fallen a little forward, his eyes were closed, his fingers had fallen lax about his knees, when a sudden cry called him to his feet.
Casimir observed the consequent embrace through his eyeglass; then he turned to Jean-Marie. 'You hear? he said. 'They are ruined; no more pickings, no more house, no more fat cutlets. It strikes me, my friend, that you had best be packing; the present speculation is about worked out. And he nodded to him meaningly. 'Never! cried Desprez, springing up.
'And so I suppose, said the Doctor, with a rising sneer, 'you prayed God to forgive you, and explained the case to Him at length. 'Why, sir? asked Jean-Marie. 'I do not see. 'Your priest would see, however, retorted Desprez. 'Would he? asked the boy, troubled for the first time. 'I should have thought God would have known. 'Eh? snarled the Doctor.
The baby was screaming with the accents of mortal terror and its mother was too frantic to care. "Alas," cried the voice of Jean-Marie, "that they never told us what purgatory was like! What do the priests know? When we were threatened with punishment of our sins not a hint did we have of this. To sleep for a few hours, haunted with the moment of awakening!
Under the influence of prosperity I become dithyrambic, Jean-Marie. Such is the impulse of the natural soul; such was the constitution of primæval man.
Jean-Marie, take it out of the boot, with religious care, and bring it piece by piece into the dining-room. We shall have plate at table! Darling, hasten and prepare this turtle; it will be a whet it will be an addition to our meagre ordinary. I myself will proceed to the cellar.
"I did," answered Jean-Marie, in a miserable whisper. He sat there changing colour like a revolving pharos, twisting his fingers hysterically, swallowing air, the picture of guilt. "You knew where it was put?" resumed the inquisitor. "Yes," from Jean-Marie. "You say you have been a thief before," continued Casimir. "Now, how am I to know that you are not one still?
'Jean-Marie, he said very gravely, 'this world is exceedingly vast; and even France, which is only a small corner of it, is a great place for a little lad like you. Unfortunately it is full of eager, shouldering people moving on; and there are very few bakers' shops for so many eaters. Your master is dead; you are not fit to gain a living by yourself; you do not wish to steal? No.
Jean-Marie opened the green gate and led in the horse and carriage; and almost at the same moment Madame Desprez came to the kitchen threshold with a lighted lantern; for the moon was not yet high enough to clear the garden walls. 'Close the gates, Jean-Marie! cried the Doctor, somewhat unsteadily alighting. 'Anastasie, where is Aline?
But she adhered silently to her opinion; and when Jean-Marie was sitting, stolid, blank, but not unhappy, over his unfinished tasks, she would snatch her opportunity in the Doctor's absence, go over to him, put her arms about his neck, lay her cheek to his, and communicate her sympathy with his distress.
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