he life that you live here?
For, surely, to accept the doctrines of such total renunciation of all
personal interests, a man must have been disgusted with the world, or
else have injured others."

"Eh! my dear lad," replied the old man, letting a smile flicker on his
large lips, which gave to his rosy mouth the kindliest expression that
the genius of a painter ever imagined, "can we not be moved to the
deepest pity by the spectacle of human wretchedness which Paris holds
within her walls? Did Saint Vincent de Paul need the spur of remorse or
wounded vanity to make him devote himself to outcast children?"

"You close my mouth, for if ever a soul resembled that of the Christian
hero, it is yours," said Godefroid.

In spite of the hardness which age had given to the wrinkled yellow skin
of his face, the old man blushed, for he seemed to have provoked that
comparison; though any one who knew his modesty would have been certain
he never dreamed of it. Godefroid was aware by this time that Madame
de la Chanterie's inmates had no taste for that sort of incense.
Nevertheless, the extreme simplicity of the good old soul was more
disturbed by this idea than a young girl would have been by an improper
thought.

"Though I am very far indeed from Saint Vincent de Paul morally," said
Monsieur Alain, "I think I do resemble him physically."

Godefroid was about to speak, but was stopped by a gesture of the old
man, whose nose, it must be owned, had the tuberous appearance of
that of the Saint, and whose face, a good deal like that of an old
vine-dresser, was an exact duplicate of the broad, common face of the
founder of Foundling hospitals.

"As for me, you are right enough," he went on; "my vocation for our work
was brought about by repentance, as the result of a--folly."

"A folly,--you!" Godefroid exclaimed softly, the word entirely putting
out of his head what he meant to say.

"Ah! dear me, what I am going to tell you will seem, I dare say, a
trifle to you,--a mere bit of nonsense; but before the tribunal of
conscience it was another thing. If you persist in wishing to share our
work after hearing what I shall tell you, you will understand that the
power of a sentiment is according to the nature of souls, and that a
matter which would not in the least trouble a strong mind may very well
torment the conscience of a weak Christian."

After a preface of this kind, the curiosity of the disciple of course
knew no bounds. Wha