th a feeling of selfish and ingenuous
pleasure, that the child had loved him once, and that perhaps she loved
him still, and kept for him in the bottom of her heart that warm,
sheltered spot to which we turn as to the sanctuary when life has wounded
us.

All night long in his old room, lulled by the imaginary movement of the
vessel, by the murmur of the waves and the howling of the wind which
follow long sea voyages, he dreamed of his youthful days, of little Chebe
and Desiree Delobelle, of their games, their labors, and of the Ecole
Centrale, whose great, gloomy buildings were sleeping near at hand, in
the dark streets of the Marais.

And when daylight came, and the sun shining in at his bare window vexed
his eyes and brought him back to a realization of the duty that lay
before him and to the anxieties of the day, he dreamed that it was time
to go to the School, and that his brother, before going down to the
factory, opened the door and called to him:

"Come, lazybones! Come!"

That dear, loving voice, too natural, too real for a dream, made him open
his eyes without more ado.

Risler was standing by his bed, watching his awakening with a charming
smile, not untinged by emotion; that it was Risler himself was evident
from the fact that, in his joy at seeing his brother Frantz once more, he
could find nothing better to say than, "I am very happy, I am very
happy!"

Although it was Sunday, Risler, as was his custom, had come to the
factory to avail himself of the silence and solitude to work at his
press. Immediately on his arrival, Pere Achille had informed him that his
brother was in Paris and had gone to the old house on the Rue de Braque,
and he had hastened thither in joyful surprise, a little vexed that he
had not been forewarned, and especially that Frantz had defrauded him of
the first evening. His regret on that account came to the surface every
moment in his spasmodic attempts at conversation, in which everything
that he wanted to say was left unfinished, interrupted by innumerable
questions on all sorts of subjects and explosions of affection and joy.
Frantz excused himself on the plea of fatigue, and the pleasure it had
given him to be in their old room once more.

"All right, all right," said Risler, "but I sha'n't let you alone
now--you are coming to Asnieres at once. I give myself leave of absence
today. All thought of work is out of the question now that you have come,
you understand. Ah! won't