ied his steps.

At length, then, he was near mankind. He would soon be amidst living
creatures. There was no longer anything to fear. There glowed within him
that sudden warmth--security; that out of which he was emerging was
over; thenceforward there would no longer be night, nor winter, nor
tempest. It seemed to him that he had left all evil chances behind him.
The infant was no longer a burden. He almost ran.

His eyes were fixed on the roofs. There was life there. He never took
his eyes off them. A dead man might gaze thus on what might appear
through the half-opened lid of his sepulchre. There were the chimneys of
which he had seen the smoke.

No smoke arose from them now. He was not long before he reached the
houses. He came to the outskirts of a town--an open street. At that
period bars to streets were falling into disuse.

The street began by two houses. In those two houses neither candle nor
lamp was to be seen; nor in the whole street; nor in the whole town, so
far as eye could reach. The house to the right was a roof rather than a
house; nothing could be more mean. The walls were of mud, the roof was
of straw, and there was more thatch than wall. A large nettle, springing
from the bottom of the wall, reached the roof. The hovel had but one
door, which was like that of a dog-kennel; and a window, which was but a
hole. All was shut up. At the side an inhabited pig-sty told that the
house was also inhabited.

The house on the left was large, high, built entirely of stone, with a
slated roof. It was also closed. It was the rich man's home, opposite to
that of the pauper.

The boy did not hesitate. He approached the great mansion. The double
folding-door of massive oak, studded with large nails, was of the kind
that leads one to expect that behind it there is a stout armoury of
bolts and locks. An iron knocker was attached to it. He raised the
knocker with some difficulty, for his benumbed hands were stumps rather
than hands. He knocked once.

No answer.

He struck again, and two knocks.

No movement was heard in the house.

He knocked a third time.

There was no sound. He saw that they were all asleep, and did not care
to get up.

Then he turned to the hovel. He picked up a pebble from the snow, and
knocked against the low door.

There was no answer.

He raised himself on tiptoe, and knocked with his pebble against the
pane too softly to break the glass, but loud enough to be heard.

No voice