obscure but erudite volume, sank into a sun-doped
lethargy from which nothing seemed significant
enough to wake it.
Yet now, on this Saturday afternoon when the Cure
sat staring out of the window, his mind was actually
yery wide awake, for his thoughts were engrossed by a
human affection. Every Sunday, in the parish church
before Vespers, the Cure must give religious instruc-
tion to the children who attended the secular school,
where most things were taught except religion. It
was while he had been taking this particular class
that he had first noticed Jan and Christophe — two
neat little boys of six years old, very shiny and clean
because it was Sunday. The Cure had baptized them
both, it is true, but then he baptized so many babies
in the fruitful town of Saint-Loup-sur-mer that he
^uite lost count once they ceased to be infants. But
for some strange reason he had looked at these boys
intently, with a sudden awakening of interest. That
evening he had found himself thinking about them,
and smiling a little as he remembered Christophe's
sager and over-sanguine reply to a question regarding
the Day of Judgment: 'And what will our Lord say
:o sinners/ he had asked him, cto those sinful and very
jnhappy creatures who are weeping outside the gates
:>fHeaven?' 'Come unto Me/ Christophe had answered.
But his friend had looked both shamed and aghast:
That is wrong —that is terribly wrong!3 he had
whispered. So the Cure had given Jan a book which
explained to the young the Christian religion; and
mother book he had given to Christophe, which
explained to the young the beliefs of the Church
:oncerning the wicked and Life Everlasting; after
which he had asked the children their names, and had
written them neatly on each paper cover. This had
aappened more than a year ago, so that now his
were over seven.
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