front of the fireplace, seated on the disordered bed, her arms hanging
down, was the wife. What was left to be imagined in this spectacle was
more than met the eye. One felt that for several hours, perhaps, no word
had been spoken in this room. The wife was doing nothing, and seemed
to have no care to do anything. They were not merely unfortunate, they
seemed like condemned persons. At the sound of my footsteps they arose,
but without speaking.

"'You are the blind man of the quarry?"

"'Yes, sir.'

"'I have come to see you.'

"'Thank you, sir.'

"'You met with a sad misfortune there.'

"'Yes, sir.'

"His voice was cold, short, without any emotion. He expected nothing
from any one. I pronounced the words 'assistance,' 'public compassion.'

"'Assistance!' cried his wife, suddenly, with a tone of despair; 'they
ought to give it to us; they must help us; we have done nothing to bring
upon us this misfortune; they will not let my children die with hunger.'

"She asked for nothing--begged for nothing. She claimed help. This
imperative beggary touched me more than the common lamentations of
poverty, for it was the voice of despair; and I felt in my purse for
some pieces of silver.

"The man then, who had till now been silent, said, with a hollow tone,

"'Your children must die, since I can no longer see.'

"There is a strange power in the human voice. My money fell back into my
purse. I was ashamed of the precarious assistance. I felt that here was
a call for something more than mere almsgiving--the charity of a day. I
soon formed my resolution."

"But what could you do?" said the young man, to Mr. Desgranges.

"What could I do?" replied he, with animation. "Fifteen days after,
James was saved. A year after, he gained his own living, and might be
heard singing at his work."

"Saved! working! singing! but how?"

"How! by very natural means. But wait, I think I hear him. I will make
him tell you his simple story. It will touch you more from his lips. It
will embarrass me less, and his cordial and ardent face will complete
the work."

In fact, the noise of some one taking off his wooden shoes was heard at
the door, and then a little tap.

"Come in, James;" and he entered with his wife,

"I have brought Juliana, my dear Mr. Desgranges, the poor woman--she
must see you sometimes, must she not?"

"You did right, James. Sit down."

He came forward, pushing his stick before him, that he might not knock
aga