t the touch of the eating air, fell upon themselves and instantly wasted
into dust. The perspiration of these good fellows turned cold upon them,
Jean-Marie. I will pledge my reputation, if there was anything like a
cutting wind, one or other had a pneumonia for his trouble.'

'I should like to have seen them turning into dust,' said Jean-Marie.
'Otherwise, I should not have cared so greatly.'

'You have no imagination,' cried the Doctor. 'Picture to yourself the
scene. Dwell on the idea--a great treasure lying in the earth for
centuries: the material for a giddy, copious, opulent existence not
employed; dresses and exquisite pictures unseen; the swiftest galloping
horses not stirring a hoof, arrested by a spell; women with the beautiful
faculty of smiles, not smiling; cards, dice, opera singing, orchestras,
castles, beautiful parks and gardens, big ships with a tower of
sailcloth, all lying unborn in a coffin--and the stupid trees growing
overhead in the sunlight, year after year. The thought drives one
frantic.'

'It is only money,' replied Jean-Marie. 'It would do harm.'

'O, come!' cried Desprez, 'that is philosophy; it is all very fine, but
not to the point just now. And besides, it is not "only money," as you
call it; there are works of art in the question; the vessels were carved.
You speak like a child. You weary me exceedingly, quoting my words out
of all logical connection, like a parroquet.'

'And at any rate, we have nothing to do with it,' returned the boy
submissively.

They struck the Route Ronde at that moment; and the sudden change to the
rattling causeway combined, with the Doctor's irritation, to keep him
silent. The noddy jigged along; the trees went by, looking on silently,
as if they had something on their minds. The Quadrilateral was passed;
then came Franchard. They put up the horse at the little solitary inn,
and went forth strolling. The gorge was dyed deeply with heather; the
rocks and birches standing luminous in the sun. A great humming of bees
about the flowers disposed Jean-Marie to sleep, and he sat down against a
clump of heather, while the Doctor went briskly to and fro, with quick
turns, culling his simples.

The boy's head had fallen a little forward, his eyes were closed, his
fingers had fallen lax about his knees, when a sudden cry called him to
his feet. It was a strange sound, thin and brief; it fell dead, and
silence returned as though it had never been inter