s going to do when we reached Paris? I wanted to
question Vitalis, but I did not dare, he seemed so gloomy. When we were
in sight of the roofs and the church towers of the capital, he slackened
his step to walk beside me.

"Remi," he said suddenly, "we are going to part when we get to Paris."

I looked at him. He looked at me. The sudden pallor of my face and the
trembling of my lips told him what effect his words had on me. For a
moment I could not speak.

"Going to part!" I murmured at last.

"Poor little chap, yes, we must part."

The tone in which he said this brought the tears to my eyes. It was so
long since I had heard a kind word.

"Oh, you are so good," I cried.

"It is you who are good. You brave little heart. There comes a time in
one's life when one feels these things. When all goes well, one goes
along through life without thinking much who is with one, but when
things go wrong, when one is on the wrong track, and above all when one
is old, one wants to lean on somebody. You may be surprised that I have
wanted to lean on you. And yet it is so. But only to see that your eyes
are moist as you listen to me, comforts me, little Remi. I am very
unhappy."

I did not know what to say. I just stroked his hand.

"And the misfortune is that we have to part just at the time when we are
getting nearer to each other."

"But you're not going to leave me all alone in Paris?" I asked timidly.

"No, certainly not. What would you do in the big city, all by yourself,
poor child. I have no right to leave you, remember that. The day when I
would not let that good lady take you and bring you up as her son, that
day I bound myself to do the best I could for you. I can do nothing at
this moment, and that is why I think it is best to part. It is only for
a time. We can do better if we separate during the last months of the
bad season. What can we do in Paris with all gone but Capi?"

Hearing his name mentioned, dear Capi came beside us: he put his paw to
his ear in military salute, then placed it on his heart, as though to
tell us that we could count on his devotion. My master stopped to pass
his hand affectionately over the dog's head.

"Yes, Capi, you're a good, faithful friend, but, alas! without the
others we can't do much now."

"But my harp...."

"If I had two children like you it would be better. But an old man with
just one little boy is bad business. I am not old enough. Now, if I were
only blind or brok