passing outcast was able to recognize the peaceable school-room. Nothing
was changed: neither the bright light shining in at the great windows,
nor the crucifix over the desk, nor the rows of benches with the tables
furnished with ink-stands and pencils, nor the table of weights and
measures, nor the map where pins stuck in still indicated the operations
of some ancient war. Heedlessly and without thinking, Jean Francois
read on the blackboard the words of the Evangelist which had been set
there as a copy:

"Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over
ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance."

It was undoubtedly the hour for recreation, for the Brother Professor
had left his chair, and, sitting on the edge of a table, he was telling
a story to the boys who surrounded him with eager and attentive eyes.
What a bright and innocent face he had, that beardless young man, in his
long black gown, and white necktie, and great ugly shoes, and his badly
cut brown hair streaming out behind! All the simple figures of the
children of the people who were watching him seemed scarcely less
childlike than his; above all when, delighted with some of his own
simple and priestly pleasantries, he broke out in an open and frank peal
of laughter which showed his white and regular teeth, a peal so
contagious that all the scholars laughed loudly in their turn. It was
such a sweet, simple group in the bright sunlight, which lighted their
dear eyes and their blond curls.

Jean Francois looked at them for some time in silence, and for the
first time in that savage nature, all instinct and appetite, there awoke
a mysterious, a tender emotion. His heart, that seared and hardened
heart, unmoved when the convict's cudgel or the heavy whip of the
watchman fell on his shoulders, beat oppressively. In that sight he saw
again his infancy; and closing his eyes sadly, the prey to torturing
regret, he walked quickly away.

Then the words written on the blackboard came back to his mind.

"If it wasn't too late, after all!" he murmured; "if I could again, like
others, eat honestly my brown bread, and sleep my fill without
nightmare! The spy must be sharp who recognizes me. My beard, which I
shaved off down there, has grown out thick and strong. One can burrow
somewhere in the great ant-hill, and work can be found. Whoever is not
worked to death in the hell of the galleys comes out agile and robust,
and I learned