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Updated: June 18, 2025
Sylvestre Ker's little finger was worth two dozen Pol Bihan's and fifty Matheline's; in spite of which Matheline and Pol Bihan were perfectly just in their contempt, for he who ascends the highest falls lowest. When Sylvestre had re-entered the tower, Pol commenced to sigh heavily, and said, "What a pity! What a great, great pity!" "What is a pity?" asked Sylvestre Ker.
In his feverish sleep he talked, and the name that escaped his lips was Matheline's. At his bedside the mother watched and prayed. When Sylvestre Ker awoke he wept, for the thought of his condemnation returned; but the remembrance of Pol and Matheline dried the tears in his burning eyes. "It was for those two," said he, "that I forgot God and my mother.
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