se; of rosy
doves on the roof; of the flowers that come out in the spring,
anemones crimson and blue, and white cyclamen in the shadow of the
rocks; of the olive, the myrtle, and the almond; until Hyacinthe's
fingers ceased working, and his sleepy eyes blinked wonderingly.

"See what you have done, comrade," he said at last; "you have told me
of such pretty things that I have done but little work for an hour.
And now the cabinet will never be finished, and I shall be beaten."

"Let me help you," smiled the other. "I also was bred a carpenter."

At first Hyacinthe would not, fearing to trust the sweet wood out of
his own hands. But at length he allowed the stranger to fit in one of
the drawers. And so deftly was it done that Hyacinthe pounded his
fists on the bench in admiration. "You have a pretty knack," he cried.
"It seemed as if you did but hold the drawer in your hands a moment,
and hey! it jumped into its place."

"Let me fit in the other little drawers while you rest awhile," said
the stranger. So Hyacinthe curled up among the shavings, and the other
boy fell to work upon the little cabinet of sandalwood.

Hyacinthe was very tired. He lay still among the shavings, and thought
of all the boy had told him, of the hillside flowers, the laughing
leaves, the golden bloom of the anise, and the golden sun upon the
roads until he was warm. And all the time the boy with the quiet eyes
was at work upon the cabinet, smoothing, fitting, polishing.

"You do better work than I," said Hyacinthe once, and the stranger
answered, "I was lovingly taught." And again Hyacinthe said, "It is
growing towards morning. In a little while I will get up and help
you."

"Lie still and rest," said the other boy. And Hyacinthe lay still. His
thoughts began to slide into dreams, and he woke with a little start,
for there seemed to be music in the shed; though he could not tell
whether it came from the strange boy's lips, or from the shappy tools
as he used them, or from the stars.

"The stars are much paler," thought Hyacinthe. "Soon it will be
morning, and the corners are not carved yet. I must get up and help
this kind one in a little moment. Only the music and the sweetness
seem to fold me close, so that I may not move."

Then behind the forest there shone a pale glow of dawn, and in
Terminaison the church bells began to ring. "Day will soon be here,"
thought Hyacinthe, "and with day will come Monsieur L'Oreillard and
his stick. I m