CHAPTER XXXIII. M. PAUL KEEPS HIS PROMISE.

hediditsosimply,withsuchchild-likefaith,IcouldnothelpsmilingpleasurablyasIwatchedhiseyesmetmysmilehejuststretchedouthiskindhand,saying,“Donnez-moilamain!IseeweworshipthesameGod,inthesamespirit,thoughbydifferentrites.” MostofM.Emanuel’sbrotherProfessorswereemancipatedfree-thinkers,infidels,atheistsandmanyofthemmenwhoseliveswouldnotbearscrutinyhewasmorelikeaknightofold,religiousinhisway,andofspotlessfame.Innocentchildhood,beautifulyouthweresafeathisside.Hehadvividpassions,keenfeelings,buthispurehonourandhisartlesspietywerethestrongcharmthatkeptthelionscouchant. Thatbreakfastwasamerrymeal,andthemerrimentwasnotmerevacantclatter:M.Pauloriginated,led,controlledandheightenedithissocial,livelytemperplayedunfetteredanduncloudedsurroundedonlybywomenandchildrentherewasnothingtocrossandthwarthimhehadhisownway,andapleasantwayitwas. Themealover,thepartywerefreetorunandplayinthemeadowsafewstayedtohelpthefarmer’swifetoputawayherearthenware.M.Paulcalledmefromamongthesetocomeoutandsitnearhimunderatree—whencehecouldviewthetroopgambolling,overawidepasture—andreadtohimwhilsthetookhiscigar.Hesatonarusticbench,andIatthetree-root.WhileIread(apocket-classic—aCorneille—Ididnotlikeit,buthedid,findingthereinbeautiesInevercouldbebroughttoperceive),helistenedwithasweetnessofcalmthemoreimpressivefromtheimpetuosityofhisgeneralnaturethedeepesthappinessfilledhisblueeyeandsmoothedhisbroadforehead.I,too,washappy—happywiththebrightday,happierwithhispresence,happiestwithhiskindness. Heasked,by-and-by,ifIwouldnotratherruntomycompanionsthansitthere?Isaid,noIfeltcontenttobewherehewas.Heaskedwhether,ifIwerehissister,Ishouldalwaysbecontenttostaywithabrothersuchashe.Isaid,IbelievedIshouldandIfeltit.Again,heinquiredwhether,ifheweretoleaveVillette,andgofaraway,IshouldbesorryandIdroppedCorneille,andmadenoreply. “Petitesoeur,”saidhe“howlongcouldyouremembermeifwewereseparated?” “That,Monsieur,Icannevertell,becauseIdonotknowhowlongitwillbebeforeIshallceasetoremembereverythingearthly.” “IfIweretogobeyondseasfortwo—three—fiveyears,shouldyouwelcomemeonmyreturn?” “Monsieur,howcouldIliveintheinterval?” “Pourtantj’aiétépourvousbiendur,bienexigeant.” Ihidmyfacewiththebook,foritwascoveredwithtears.Iaskedhimwhyhetalkedsoandhesaidhewouldtalksonomore,andcheeredmeagainwiththekindestencouragement.Still,thegentlenesswithwhichhetreatedmeduringtherestoftheday,wentsomehowtomyheart.Itwastootender.Itwasmournful.Iwouldratherhehadbeenabrupt,whimsical,andirateaswashiswont. Whenhotnoonarrived—forthedayturnedoutaswehadanticipated,glowingasJune—ourshepherdcollectedhissheepfromthepasture,andproceededtoleadusallsoftlyhome.Butwehadawholeleaguetowalk,thusfarfromVillettewasthefarmwherehehadbreakfastedthechildren,especially,weretiredwiththeirplaythespiritsofmostflaggedattheprospectofthismid-daywalkoverchausséesflinty,glaring,anddusty.Thisstateofthingshadbeenforeseenandprovidedfor.Justbeyondtheboundaryofthefarmwemettwospaciousvehiclescomingtofetchus—suc