escendant as his
years increase. Carmen and Zoe were more a part of himself now than they
had ever been.

They were gone, the living spirits of his home. Anything that reminded
him of them, despite the pain of the reminder, was dear to him. Love
was greater than the vengeful desire of injured human nature. His eyes
wandered over the people, over the market. At last he saw what he was
looking for. He called. A man turned. Jean Jacques beckoned to him. He
came eagerly, he hurried to the red wagon.

"Come home with me," said Jean Jacques.

The words were addressed to Sebastian Dolores, who said to himself that
this was a refuge surer than "The Red Eagle," or the home of the widow
Poucette. He climbed in beside Jean Jacques with a sigh of content.

"Ah, but that--but that is the end of our philosopher," said Judge
Carcasson sadly to the Clerk of the Court, as with amazement he saw this
catastrophe.

"Alas! if I had only asked to go with him, as I wished to do!" responded
M. Fille. "There, but a minute ago, it was in my mind," he added with a
look of pain.

"You missed your chance, falterer," said the Judge severely. "If you
have a good thought, act on it--that is the golden rule. You missed your
chance. It will never come again. He has taken the wrong turning, our
unhappy Jean Jacques."

"Monsieur--oh, monsieur, do not shut the door in the face of God
like that!" said the shocked little master of the law. "Those two
together--it may be only for a moment."

"Ah, no, my little owl, Jean Jacques will wind the boa-constrictor round
his neck like a collar, all for love of those he has lost," answered the
Judge with emotion; and he caught M. Fille's arm in the companionship of
sorrow.

In silence these two watched the red wagon till it was out of sight.

CHAPTER XVI. MISFORTUNES COME NOT SINGLY

Judge Carcasson was right. For a year after Zoe's flight Jean Jacques
wrapped Sebastian Dolores round his neck like a collar, and it choked
him like a boaconstrictor. But not Sebastian Dolores alone did that.
When things begin to go wrong in the life of a man whose hands have
held too many things, the disorder flutters through all the radii of his
affairs, and presently they rattle away from the hub of his control.

So it was with Jean Jacques. To take his reprobate father-in-law to his
lonely home would have brought him trouble in any case; but as things
were, the Spaniard became only the last straw which broke his c