tolen for tartlets, I believe; but
any one would steal for baker's bread."

"And so I suppose," said the Doctor, with a rising sneer, "you prayed God
to forgive you, and explained the case to Him at length."

"Why, sir?" asked Jean-Marie. "I do not see."

"Your priest would see, however," retorted Desprez.

"Would he?" asked the boy, troubled for the first time. "I should have
thought God would have known."

"Eh?" snarled the Doctor.

"I should have thought God would have understood me," replied the other.
"You do not, I see; but then it was God that made me think so, was it
not?"

"Little boy, little boy," said Dr. Desprez, "I told you already you had
the vices of philosophy; if you display the virtues also, I must go. I am
a student of the blessed laws of health, an observer of plain and
temperate nature in her common walks; and I cannot preserve my equanimity
in presence of a monster. Do you understand?"

"No, sir," said the boy.

"I will make my meaning clear to you," replied the Doctor. "Look there at
the sky--behind the belfry first, where it is so light, and then up and
up, turning your chin back, right to the top of the dome, where it is
already as blue as at noon. Is not that a beautiful colour? Does it not
please the heart? We have seen it all our lives, until it has grown in
with our familiar thoughts. Now," changing his tone, "suppose that sky to
become suddenly of a live and fiery amber, like the colour of clear
coals, and growing scarlet towards the top--I do not say it would be any
the less beautiful; but would you like it as well?"

"I suppose not," answered Jean-Marie.

"Neither do I like you," returned the Doctor roughly. "I hate all odd
people, and you are the most curious little boy in all the world."

Jean-Marie seemed to ponder for a while, and then he raised his head
again and looked over at the Doctor with an air of candid inquiry. "But
are not you a very curious gentleman?" he asked.

The Doctor threw away his stick, bounded on the boy, clasped him to his
bosom, and kissed him on both cheeks. "Admirable, admirable imp!" he
cried. "What a morning, what an hour for a theorist of forty-two! No," he
continued, apostrophising heaven, "I did not know such boys existed; I
was ignorant they made them so; I had doubted of my race; and now! It is
like," he added, picking up his stick, "like a lovers' meeting. I have
bruised my favourite staff in that moment of enthusiasm. The injury,
howev