prayer takes the form of the active
work to which I have set my hand, and which I love--the work of sowing
the seeds of happiness and joy, of giving to others what I myself have
not.

"I have grown so used to this life, completely out of the world and
among the peasants, that I am thoroughly transformed. Even my face is
altered; it has been so continually exposed to the sun, that it has
grown wrinkled and weather-beaten. I have fallen into the habits of the
peasants; I have assumed their dress, their ways of talking, their gait,
their easy-going negligence, their utter indifference to appearances. My
old acquaintances in Paris, or the she-coxcombs on whom I used to
dance attendance, would be puzzled to recognize in me the man who had a
certain vogue in his day, the sybarite accustomed to all the splendor,
luxury, and finery of Paris. I have come to be absolutely indifferent
to my surroundings, like all those who are possessed by one thought, and
have only one object in view; for I have but one aim in life--to take
leave of it as soon as possible. I do not want to hasten my end in any
way; but some day, when illness comes, I shall lie down to die without
regret.

"There, sir, you have the whole story of my life until I came here--told
in all sincerity. I have not attempted to conceal any of my errors;
they have been great, though others have erred as I have erred. I have
suffered greatly, and I am suffering still, but I look beyond this life
to a happy future which can only be reached through sorrow. And yet--for
all my resignation, there are moments when my courage fails me. This
very day I was almost overcome in your presence by inward anguish; you
did not notice it but----"

Genestas started in his chair.

"Yes, Captain Bluteau, you were with me at the time. Do you remember
how, while we were putting little Jacques to bed, you pointed to the
mattress on which Mother Colas sleeps? Well, you can imagine how painful
it all was; I can never see any child without thinking of the dear child
I have lost, and this little one was doomed to die! I can never see a
child with indifferent eyes----"

Genestas turned pale.

"Yes, the sight of the little golden heads, the innocent beauty of
children's faces always awakens memories of my sorrows, and the old
anguish returns afresh. Now and then, too, there comes the intolerable
thought that so many people here should thank me for what little I can
do for them, when all that I