mething was moving him deeply in
his mind. His thoughts at length found breath, as usual, in a rapid
outflow of words. He exclaimed,--

"Happy, doubtless! Dead! stone dead!"

He bent down, and put a shovelful of turf mould into the stove; and as
he poked the peat he growled out,--

"I had a deal of trouble to find her. The mischief of the unknown had
buried her under two feet of snow. Had it not been for Homo, who sees as
clearly with his nose as Christopher Columbus did with his mind, I
should be still there, scratching at the avalanche, and playing hide and
seek with Death. Diogenes took his lantern and sought for a man; I took
my lantern and sought for a woman. He found a sarcasm, and I found
mourning. How cold she was! I touched her hand--a stone! What silence in
her eyes! How can any one be such a fool as to die and leave a child
behind? It will not be convenient to pack three into this box. A pretty
family I have now! A boy and a girl!"

Whilst Ursus was speaking, Homo sidled up close to the stove. The hand
of the sleeping infant was hanging down between the stove and the chest.
The wolf set to licking it. He licked it so softly that he did not awake
the little infant.

Ursus turned round.

"Well done, Homo. I shall be father, and you shall be uncle."

Then he betook himself again to arranging the fire with philosophical
care, without interrupting his aside.

"Adoption! It is settled; Homo is willing."

He drew himself up.

"I should like to know who is responsible for that woman's death? Is it
man? or...."

He raised his eyes, but looked beyond the ceiling, and his lips
murmured,--

"Is it Thou?"

Then his brow dropped, as if under a burden, and he continued,--

"The night took the trouble to kill the woman."

Raising his eyes, they met those of the boy, just awakened, who was
listening. Ursus addressed him abruptly,--

"What are you laughing about?"

The boy answered,--

"I am not laughing."

Ursus felt a kind of shock, looked at him fixedly for a few minutes, and
said,--

"Then you are frightful."

The interior of the caravan, on the previous night, had been so dark
that Ursus had not yet seen the boy's face. The broad daylight revealed
it. He placed the palms of his hands on the two shoulders of the boy,
and, examining his countenance more and more piercingly, exclaimed,--

"Do not laugh any more!"

"I am not laughing," said the child.

Ursus was seized with a shudder from hea