rders; but many a
mother knows the virtue of such ardent projection of strong, unceasing
prayer.

"My good Schmucke--"

"Say nodings; I shall hear you mit mein heart... rest, rest!" said
Schmucke, smiling at him.

"Poor friend, noble creature, child of God, living in God!... The one
being that has loved me...." The words came out with pauses between
them; there was a new note, a something never heard before, in Pons'
voice. All the soul, so soon to take flight, found utterance in the
words that filled Schmucke with happiness almost like a lover's rapture.

"Yes, yes. I shall be shtrong as a lion. I shall vork for two!"

"Listen, my good, my faithful, adorable friend. Let me speak, I have not
much time left. I am a dead man. I cannot recover from these repeated
shocks."

Schmucke was crying like a child.

"Just listen," continued Pons, "and cry afterwards. As a Christian, you
must submit. I have been robbed. It is La Cibot's doing.... I ought to
open your eyes before I go; you know nothing of life.... Somebody has
taken away eight of the pictures, and they were worth a great deal of
money."

"Vorgif me--I sold dem."

"_You_ sold them?"

"Yes, I," said poor Schmucke. "Dey summoned us to der court--"

"_Summoned?_.... Who summoned us?"

"Wait," said Schmucke. He went for the bit of stamped-paper left by the
bailiff, and gave it to Pons. Pons read the scrawl through with close
attention, then he let the paper drop and lay quite silent for a while.
A close observer of the work of men's hands, unheedful so far of the
workings of the brain, Pons finally counted out the threads of the plot
woven about him by La Cibot. The artist's fire, the intellect that won
the Roman scholarship--all his youth came back to him for a little.

"My good Schmucke," he said at last, "you must do as I tell you, and
obey like a soldier. Listen! go downstairs into the lodge and tell that
abominable woman that I should like to see the person sent to me by
my cousin the President; and that unless he comes, I shall leave my
collection to the Musee. Say that a will is in question."

Schmucke went on his errand; but at the first word, La Cibot answered by
a smile.

"My good M. Schmucke, our dear invalid has had a delirious fit; he
thought that there were men in the room. On my word, as an honest woman,
no one has come from the family."

Schmucke went back with his answer, which he repeated word for word.

"She is cleverer, more astu