am about to drown myself because I have no papa."

It was very warm and fine weather. The pleasant sunshine warmed the
grass; the water shone like a mirror; and Simon enjoyed for some
minutes the happiness of that languor which follows weeping, desirous
even of falling asleep there upon the grass in the warmth of noon.

A little green frog leaped from under his feet. He endeavored to catch
it. It escaped him. He pursued it and lost it three times following. At
last he caught it by one of its hind legs and began to laugh as he saw
the efforts the creature made to escape. It gathered itself up on its
large legs and then with a violent spring suddenly stretched them out
as stiff as two bars.

Its eyes stared wide open in their round, golden circle, and it beat
the air with its front limbs, using them as though they were hands. It
reminded him of a toy made with straight slips of wood nailed zig-zag
one on the other, which by a similar movement regulated the exercise of
the little soldiers fastened thereon. Then he thought of his home and
of his mother, and overcome by great sorrow he again began to weep. His
limbs trembled; and he placed himself on his knees and said his prayers
as before going to bed. But he was unable to finish them, for such
hurried and violent sobs overtook him that he was completely
overwhelmed. He thought no more, he no longer heeded anything around
him but was wholly given up to tears.

Suddenly a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a rough voice
asked him:

"What is it that causes you so much grief, my fine fellow?"

Simon turned round. A tall workman, with a black beard and hair all
curled, was staring at him good-naturedly. He answered with his eyes
and throat full of tears:

"They have beaten me because--I--I have no papa--no papa."

"What!" said the man smiling, "why, everybody has one."

The child answered painfully amid his spasms of grief:

"But I--I--I have none."

Then the workman became serious. He had recognized La Blanchotte's son,
and although a recent arrival to the neighborhood he had a vague idea
of her history.

"Well," said he, "console yourself, my boy, and come with me home to
your mother. She will give you a papa."

And so they started on the way, the big one holding the little one by
the hand. The man smiled afresh, for he was not sorry to see this
Blanchotte, who by popular report was one of the prettiest girls in the
country-side--and, perhaps, he sa