comfortable state of things scarcely a month, when one morning a
stranger presented himself. The visitor held a long conference with his
mother, or, at least, with the person whom he called by that name. He
did not understand what they were talking about, but he was none the
less very uneasy. The result of the interview must have justified his
instinctive fear, for his mother took him on her lap, and embraced him
with convulsive tenderness. She sobbed violently, and repeated again
and again in a faltering voice: "Poor child! my beloved Wilkie! I
shall never kiss you again--never, never! 'Alas! It must be so! Give me
courage, my God!"

Those were the exact words; Wilkie was sure on that point. It seemed to
him he could still hear that despairing farewell. For it was indeed a
farewell. The stranger took him in his arms and carried him away, in
spite of his cries and struggles to escape. This person to whose care he
was confined was the master of a small boarding-school, and his wife
was the kindest and most patient of women. However, this did not prevent
Wilkie from crying and begging for his mother at first; but gradually he
forgot her. He was not unhappy, for he was petted and indulged more than
any of the other pupils, and he spent most of his time playing on the
terrace or wandering about the garden. But this charming life could not
last for ever. According to his calculation, he was just ten years
old when, one Sunday, toward the end of October, a grave-looking,
red-whiskered gentleman, clad in solemn black with a white necktie,
presented himself at the school, and declared that he had been
instructed by Wilkie's relatives to place him in a college to continue
his education.

Young Wilkie's lamentations were long and loud; but they did not prevent
M. Patterson--for that was the gentleman's name--from taking him to the
college of Louis-the-Great, where he was entered as a boarder. As he
did not study, and as he was only endowed with a small amount of
intelligence, he learned scarcely anything during the years he remained
there. Every Sunday and every fete day, M. Patterson made his appearance
at ten o'clock precisely, took Wilkie for a walk in Paris or the
environs, gave him his breakfast and dinner at some of the best
restaurants, bought everything he expressed a desire to have, and at
nine o'clock precisely took him back to the college again. During the
holidays M. Patterson kept the boy with him, refusing him noth