d through her simple and logical
inquiry: "Why not take your cassock off?" She merely felt that by
removing it he would be more at ease for his work.

"Oh, Pierre, just come and look!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I have been
amusing myself with watching all the smoke which the wind is laying
yonder over Paris. One might take it to be a huge fleet of ships shining
in the sunlight. Yes, yes, golden ships, thousands of golden ships,
setting forth from the ocean of Paris to enlighten and pacify the world!"

III. THE DAWN OF LOVE

A COUPLE of days afterwards, when Pierre was already growing accustomed
to his new attire, and no longer gave it a thought, it so happened that
on reaching Montmartre he encountered Abbe Rose outside the basilica of
the Sacred Heart. The old priest, who at first was quite thunderstruck
and scarcely able to recognise him, ended by taking hold of his hands and
giving him a long look. Then with his eyes full of tears he exclaimed:
"Oh! my son, so you have fallen into the awful state I feared! I never
mentioned it, but I felt that God had withdrawn from you. Ah! nothing
could wound my heart so cruelly as this."

Then, still trembling, he began to lead Pierre away as if to hide such a
scandal from the few people who passed by; and at last, his strength
failing him, he sank upon a heap of bricks lying on the grass of one of
the adjoining work-yards.

The sincere grief which his old and affectionate friend displayed upset
Pierre far more than any angry reproaches or curses would have done.
Tears had come to his own eyes, so acute was the suffering he experienced
at this meeting, which he ought, however, to have foreseen. There was yet
another wrenching, and one which made the best of their blood flow, in
that rupture between Pierre and the saintly man whose charitable dreams
and hopes of salvation he had so long shared. There had been so many
divine illusions, so many struggles for the relief of the masses, so much
renunciation and forgiveness practised in common between them in their
desire to hasten the harvest of the future! And now they were parting;
he, Pierre, still young in years, was returning to life, leaving his aged
companion to his vain waiting and his dreams.

In his turn, taking hold of Abbe Rose's hands, he gave expression to his
sorrow. "Ah, my friend, my father," said he, "it is you alone that I
regret losing, now that I am leaving my frightful torments behind. I
thought that I w