children of various ages hung to the skirts of mother and grandmother,
tearful and mystified; the father leaned on the gate, smoking a pipe,
displaying a stolidity he did not feel.

The diligence swung around the corner and came rattling down the single,
stony, narrow street of the little village. The driver hardly deigned to
stop for such common folks as these; but the grandmother waved her apron,
and then, as if jealous of a service some one else might render, she
seized one end of the canvas bag and helped the brown young man pass it
up to the top of the diligence. Jean Francois climbed up after, carrying
a little prayer-book that had been thrust into his hands--a final parting
gift of the grandmother.

The driver cracked his whip and away they went.

As the diligence passed the rectory, Father Lebrisseau came out and held
up a crucifix; the young man took off his cap and bowed his head.

The group of watchers moved out into the roadway. They strained their
eyes in the direction of the receding vehicle.

* * * * *

After a three days' ride, Jean Francois was in Paris. The early winter
night was settling down, and the air was full of fog and sleet.

The young man was sore from the long jolting. His bones ached, and the
damp and cold had hunted out every part of his sturdy frame.

The crowds that surged through the street hurrying for home and fireside
after the day's work were impatient.

"Don't block the way, Johnny Crapaud!" called a girl with a shawl over
her head; and with the combined shove and push of those behind, the
sabot-shod young man was shouldered into the street.

There he stood dazed and bereft, with the sailor's bag on his back.

"Where do you wish to go?" asked a gendarme, not unkindly.

"Back to Gruchy," came the answer.

And the young man went into the diligence office and asked when the next
stage started.

It did not go until the following morning. He would have to stay
somewhere all night.

The policeman outside the door directed him to a modest tavern.

Next morning things looked a little better. The sun had come out and the
air was crisp. The crowds in the street did not look quite so cold and
mean.

After hunger had been satisfied, "Johnny Crapaud" concluded to stay long
enough to catch a glimpse of the Louvre, that marvel of marvels! The
Louvre had been glowingly described to him by his old drawing-master at
Cherbourg. Visions of the Louvre h