alms to the heat and rubbed them vigorously
together. The room, or rather the two small rooms, that comprised his
lodgings in one of the poorest neighbourhoods of the city, were, since
the windows were tightly closed and the sides of the stove a dull red,
stifling hot; but Father Anton was not a young man, and the winter of
Paris was not the balmy winter of his beloved South.

He took off his spectacles, polished them abstractedly on the sleeve of
his _soutane_, replaced them, and picked up a book. He opened the
book, turned a few pages without looking at them, and with a little
sigh laid the book upon his knees. It was only in strict privacy that
he permitted himself an indulgence in regrets and the somewhat doubtful
solace of retrospection. And now he opened the stove door. It always
seemed that in the glowing coals and the little spurts of flames one
could picture so much more clearly the blue of the Mediterranean, the
sunny skies, the clean white cottages of Bernay-sur-Mer, the boats
dotting the sea and beach, and Papa Fregeau standing in the doorway of
the Bas Rhone, and Pierre Lachance trudging along the street with a
great pile of nets slung over his shoulders.

Father Anton shook his head slowly. It was very strange, the workings
of Providence. He had always thought to die in Bernay-sur-Mer. And
now already he had been in Paris a year! But the sacrifice was very
little, it mattered nothing at all, and if he had longings and dreams
of the days that were gone, he was still very happy here and should be
thankful to God for the wonderful work that had been given him to do;
only he remembered his dismay that morning, when, unannounced, the
bishop had come to Bernay-sur-Mer and had told him word had been
received from Paris that Monsieur Bliss, the millionaire American,
would give the enormous sum of five hundred thousand francs a year to
be distributed amongst the poor of Paris on the condition that he,
Father Anton, would undertake its distribution. And he remembered how
the bishop had explained that it had been suggested to Monsieur Bliss
that perhaps he, Father Anton, would not care to leave Bernay-sur-Mer
and his people there, and that there were others, younger men, nearer
at hand, who, under the guidance and direction of the ecclesiastical
authorities, would willingly and gladly undertake the work. And, above
all else, he remembered what monsignor had told him had been the reply
of Monsieur Bliss: "