ks, smile sweetly as his sightless eyes were turned towards him,
and commence some stirring narrative of military adventure.

In this way, days, weeks, months, and even years rolled by. They were
every where well received and kindly treated; and all their physical
wants were supplied. But the old soldier often sighed to think of the
burden his misfortunes imposed upon his boy, and of his wearing out
his young life without congenial companionship, without instruction,
without a future beyond the life of a mendicant. He often prayed in
secret that death might liberate, his little guide from his voluntary
service.

One day, Francois was seated alone on a stone by the roadside, Victor
having gone to the neighboring village on an errand, when he suddenly
heard a carriage stop beside him. The occupant, a man of middle age,
alighted, and approached the soldier.

"Your name," said the stranger, "is, I think, Francois Bertrand."

"The same."

"A soldier of the army of Egypt?"

"Yes."

"And that pretty boy who guides you is your son?"

"He is--Heaven bless him!"

"Amen! But has it never occurred to you, my friend, that you are doing
him great injustice in keeping him by you at an age when he ought to
be getting an education to enable him to push his way in the world?"

"Alas! sir, I have often thought of it. But what could supply his
place? and then, who would befriend and educate him?"

"His place might be supplied by a dog--and for his protector, I,
myself, who have no son, should be glad to adopt and educate him."

His son's place supplied by a dog! The thought was agony. And to part
with Victor! The idea was as cruel as death itself. The old soldier
was silent.

"You are silent, my friend. Has my offer offended you?"

"No sir--no. But you will pardon a father's feelings."

"I respect them--and I do not wish to hurry you. Take a day to think
of my proposition, and to inform yourself respecting my character and
position. I am a merchant. My name is Eugene Marmont, and I reside at
No. 17 Rue St. Honore, Paris. I will meet you at this spot to-morrow
at the same hour, and shall then expect an answer. _Au revoir._" He
placed a golden louis in the hand of the soldier, and departed.

A little reflection convinced Bertrand that it was his duty to accept
the merchant's offer. But cruel as was the task of reconciling himself
to parting with his son, that of inducing Victor to acquiesce in the
arrangement was yet more