Mornay, who could level him to the dust
tomorrow financially, a master of the world's affairs, a prospector of
life's fields, who would march fearlessly beyond the farthest frontiers
into the unknown. Jean Jacques' admiration of the lion who could, and
would, slay him was the best tribute to his own character.

M. Fille's eyes moistened as he realized it; and he knew that nothing he
could say or do would make this man accommodate his actions to the hard
rules of the business of life; he must for ever be applying to them
conceptions of a half-developed mind.

"Quite so, quite so, Jean Jacques," M. Fille responded gently,
"but"--here came a firmer note to his voice, for he had taken to heart
the lesson M. Mornay had taught him, and he was determined to do his
duty now when the opportunity was in his hand--"but you have got to deal
with things as they are; not as they might have been. If you cannot have
the great men you have to deal with the little men like me. You have to
prove yourself bigger than the rest of us by doing things better. A man
doesn't fail only because of others, but also because of himself. You
were warned that the chances were all against you in the case that's
just been decided, yet you would go on; you were warned that your
cousin, Auguste Charron, was in debt, and that his wife was mad to get
away from the farm and go West, yet you would take no notice. Now he
has gone, and you have to pay, and your case has gone against you in the
Appellate Court besides.... I will tell you the truth, my friend, even
if it cuts me to the heart. You have not kept your judgment in hand; you
have gone ahead like a bull at a gate; and you pay the price. You listen
to those who flatter, and on those who would go through fire and water
for you, you turn your back--on those who would help you in your hour of
trouble, in your dark day."

Jean Jacques drew himself up with a gesture, impatient, masterful and
forbidding. "I have fought my fight alone in the dark day; I have
not asked for any one's help," he answered. "I have wept on no man's
shoulder. I have been mauled by the claws of injury and shame, and I
have not flinched. I have healed my own wounds, and I wear my scars
without--"

He stopped, for there came a sharp rat-tat-tat at the door which opened
into the street. Somehow the commonplace, trivial interruption produced
on both a strange, even startling effect. It suddenly produced in their
minds a feeling of appr