§3
Marie became fond of her husband's apprentice,
not only for his mother's sake but for his own. There
was something so solemn and so gentle about him,
and his innocent brown eyes were so queerly appealing,
gazing at her out of his bearded face, that Marie
would trust him to play with her son and would let
him take Christophe into the workshop should she
herself chance to be extra busy.
Christophe was a healthy and commonplace baby,
subject to his good days but also to his bad, like
thousands of other babies. On his good days he smiled
and made friends with the world, digested his food
and gave everyone pleasure. On his bad days he
howled incessantly and occasionally made himself
sick in the process, so that Jouse must leave his work
at the bench and take a large hand in quieting his
offspring.
'Hou!' he would shout, 'What are all these tears?
One would think you were the penitent Marie Made-
leine instead of a recently baptised infant with all its
original sin washed away. Hou! But six months
have you been in this world yet already you make
such a terrible commotion!'
And his deep, booming voice would astonish
Christophe so completely that he must perforce stop
howling. Then Jouse would solemnly return to his
work, and the grating, relentless sound of the saw, or
the silky, furtive sound of the plane would reach Marie
as she bustled about in the kitchen.
It was curious to watch Anfos with the child, quite
merry he could be, and yet there were times when he
seemed almost reverential. He had a way of dropping
onto his knees and offering the baby small, simple
presents. Thus one morning he carved a bird out of
wood — for Anfos had a natural aptitude for carving
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