and nights are all
alike monotonous and dreary. Father Rondic alone preserves his former
serenity.

The winter has been a cold one. The Loire has overflowed the island,
part of which remained under water four months, and the air was filled
with fogs and miasma. Jack has had a bad cough, and has passed some
weeks in the infirmary. Occasionally a letter has come for him, tender
and loving when his mother wrote in secret, didactic and severe when
the poet looked over her shoulder. The only news sent by his mother was,
that her poet had had a grand reconciliation with the Moronvals, who now
came on Sundays, with some of their pupils, to dine at Aulnettes.

Moronval, Madou, and the academy seemed far enough away to Jack, who
thought of himself in those old days as of a superior being, and could
see little resemblance between his coarse skin and round shoulders, and
the dainty pink and white child whose face he dimly remembered.

Thus were Dr. Rivals' words justified: "It is social distinctions that
create final and absolute separations."

Jack thought often of the old doctor and of Cecile, and on the first of
January each year had written them a long letter. But the two last had
remained unanswered.

One thought alone sustained Jack in his sad life: his mother might need
him, and he must work hard for her sake.

Unfortunately wages are in proportion to the value of the work, and not
to the ambition of the workman, and Jack had no talent in the direction
of his career. He was seventeen, his apprenticeship over, and yet he
received but three francs per day. With these three francs he must pay
for his room, his food, and his dress; that is, he must replace his
coarse clothing as it was worn out; and what should he do if his mother
were to write and say, "I am coming to live with you "?

"Look here," said Pere Rondic, "your parents made a great mistake in not
listening to me. You have no business here; now how would you like to
make a voyage? The chief engineer of the 'Cydnus' wants an assistant.
You can have six francs per day, be fed, lodged, and warmed. Shall I
write and say you will like the situation?"

The idea of the double pay, the love of travel that Madou's wild tales
had awakened in his childish nature, combined to render Jack highly
pleased at the proposed change. He left Indret one July morning, just
four years after his arrival. What a superb day it was! The air became
more fresh as the little steamer he