nd they ate in silence seated on the edge of a ditch. An
innkeeper to whom they told their story said to them one day:

"I know some one who had lost their daughter, and they found her in
Paris."

They at once set out for Paris.

When they entered the great city they were bewildered by its size and by
the crowds that they saw. But they knew that Jean must be in the midst of
all these people, though they did not know how to set about looking for
him. Then they feared that they might not recognize him, for he was only
five years old when they last saw him.

They visited every place, went through all the streets, stopping whenever
they saw a group of people, hoping for some providential meeting, some
extraordinary luck, some compassionate fate.

They frequently walked at haphazard straight ahead, leaning one against
the other, looking so sad and poverty-stricken that people would give
them alms without their asking.

They spent every Sunday at the doors of the churches, watching the crowds
entering and leaving, trying to distinguish among the faces one that
might be familiar. Several times they thought they recognized him, but
always found they had made a mistake.

In the vestibule of one of the churches which they visited the most
frequently there was an old dispenser of holy Water who had become their
friend. He also had a very sad history, and their sympathy for him had
established a bond of close friendship between them. It ended by them all
three living together in a poor lodging on the top floor of a large house
situated at some distance, quite on the outskirts of the city, and the
wheelwright would sometimes take his new friend's place at the church
when the latter was ill.

Winter came, a very severe winter. The poor holy water sprinkler died and
the parish priest appointed the wheelwright, whose misfortunes had come
to his knowledge, to replace him. He went every morning and sat in the
same place, on the same chair, wearing away the old stone pillar by
continually leaning against it. He would gaze steadily at every man who
entered the church and looked forward to Sunday with as much impatience
as a schoolboy, for on that day the church was filled with people from
morning till night.

He became very old, growing weaker each day from the dampness of the
church, and his hope oozed away gradually.

He now knew by sight all the people who came to the services; he knew
their hours, their manners, could disti