k care that Herve never stumbled nor went astray
into the ditch by the side of the road.

It must have been a hard-hearted man indeed who had no pennies to spare
for the blind boy led by the big white dog. With his bare feet blue with
cold, his teeth chattering, and his eyes turned wistfully up to the sky
which he could not see, he was a sad little figure to meet on the lonely
Brittany roads. And he sang so sweetly, too! No one had ever heard such
a voice as that, nor such beautiful songs. Every one who heard gave him
money. So he was helping his mother, getting her food and medicine and
clothes to keep her warm. And this thought comforted him when he was
shivering with cold, his rags blown about by the wind and soaked in the
rain.

Day after day, week after week, Herve trudged along the flinty roads.
Often he limped with cold, bleeding feet which the faithful dog would
try to lick warm again. Often he was very tired, and sometimes he was
sad, when people were not kind. But this seldom happened. Once Herve was
passing through a strange village where all the folk were heathen. And a
band of naughty children began to dance about him and tease him, pulling
his hair and twitching his cloak. And they mocked his music, singing,
"Blind boy, blind boy! Where are you going, blind boy!" Then it is said
that a wonderful thing happened. Herve was sorry because they were so
cruel and unkind, and he struck a strange chord of music on his harp and
sang in a low, clear voice,--

"Dance on, bright eyes who can see. Dance on, children who mock a poor
blind boy. Dance on,--and never stop so long as the world wags." And it
is said that the wicked children are still dancing, over the world and
back, around and around, tired though they must be. And they will be
still more tired before all is done. For they must whirl and pirouette
until the end of the world; and that is a long time even for children
who love to dance.

At a different time another unkind thing happened to Saint Herve. But
this time it was a beast who hurt his feelings. And this was strange;
for usually the beasts loved him and tried to help him as the white dog
had done. But after all this was only a mistake; yet it was a sad
mistake, for it cost Herve the life of his faithful guide. This is how
it happened.

As Herve and his dog were passing along a lonely road, a black wolf
sprang out upon them. He mistook the dog for an ancient enemy of his,
another wolf. For indeed