, though he'd rob him of it in open daylight, and call it
"enterprise"--a usual word with him.

He is a favourite with Madame Cournal, who influences Bigot most, and
one day we may see the boon companions at each other's throats; and if
either falls, I hope it maybe Bigot, for Monsieur Doltaire is, at least,
no robber. Indeed, he is kind to the poor in a disdainful sort of way.
He gives to them and scoffs at them at the same moment; a bad man, with
just enough natural kindness to make him dangerous. I have not seen much
of the world, but some things we know by instinct; we feel them; and
I often wonder if that is not the way we know everything in the end.
Sometimes when I take my long walks, or go and sit beside the Falls of
Montmorenci, looking out to the great city on the Heights, to dear Isle
Orleans, where we have our pretty villa (we are to go there next week
for three months--happy summer months), up at the blue sky and into the
deep woods, I have strange feelings, which afterwards become thoughts;
and sometimes they fly away like butterflies, but oftener they stay with
me, and I give them a little garden to roam in--you can guess where. Now
and then I call them out of the garden and make them speak, and then I
set down what they say in my journal; but I think they like their garden
best. You remember the song we used to sing at school?

"'Where do the stars grow, little Garaine?
The garden of moons, is it far away?
The orchard of suns, my little Garaine,
Will you take us there some day?'

"'If you shut your eyes,' quoth little Garaine,
'I will show you the way to go
To the orchard of suns, and the garden of moons,
And the field where the stars do grow.

"'But you must speak soft,' quoth little Garaine,
'And still must your footsteps be,
For a great bear prowls in the field of the stars,
And the moons they have men to see.

"'And the suns have the Children of Signs to guard,
And they have no pity at all--
You must not stumble, you must not speak,
When you come to the orchard wall.

"'The gates are locked,' quoth little Garaine,
'But the way I am going to tell?
The key of your heart it will open them all:
And there's where the darlings dwell!'"

You may not care to read these lines again, but it helps to show what I
mean: that everything is in the heart, and that nothing is at all if we
do not feel it. Sometimes I have spoken of these things to