"some mental trouble annoys
your father, that is all."

"Do you know what it is, Aubert?"

"Perhaps, Gerande"

"Tell us, then," cried Scholastique eagerly, economically
extinguishing her taper.

"For several days, Gerande," said the young apprentice,
"something absolutely incomprehensible has been going on. All the
watches which your father has made and sold for some years have
suddenly stopped. Very many of them have been brought back to
him. He has carefully taken them to pieces; the springs were in
good condition, and the wheels well set. He has put them together
yet more carefully; but, despite his skill, they will not go."

"The devil's in it!" cried Scholastique.

"Why say you so?" asked Gerande. "It seems very natural to me.
Nothing lasts for ever in this world. The infinite cannot be
fashioned by the hands of men."

"It is none the less true," returned Aubert, "that there is in
this something very mysterious and extraordinary. I have myself
been helping Master Zacharius to search for the cause of this
derangement of his watches; but I have not been able to find it,
and more than once I have let my tools fall from my hands in
despair."

"But why undertake so vain a task?" resumed Scholastique. "Is it
natural that a little copper instrument should go of itself, and
mark the hours? We ought to have kept to the sun-dial!"

"You will not talk thus, Scholastique," said Aubert, "when you
learn that the sun-dial was invented by Cain.''

"Good heavens! what are you telling me?"

"Do you think," asked Gerande simply, "that we might pray to God
to give life to my father's watches?"

"Without doubt," replied Aubert.

"Good! They will be useless prayers," muttered the old servant,
"but Heaven will pardon them for their good intent."

The taper was relighted. Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert knelt
down together upon the tiles of the room. The young girl prayed
for her mother's soul, for a blessing for the night, for
travellers and prisoners, for the good and the wicked, and more
earnestly than all for the unknown misfortunes of her father.

[Illustration: The young girl prayed]

Then the three devout souls rose with some confidence in their
hearts, because they had laid their sorrow on the bosom of God.

Aubert repaired to his own room; Gerande sat pensively by the
window, whilst the last lights were disappearing from the city
streets; and Scholastique, having poured a little water on the
flickering