Madame Roustan's desire to talk over herself when she
went to confession, more especially these days when,
thanks to her son, she felt that she had every right to
attention.
The Cure had never suffered bores gladly, indeed
even after the years at Saint Loup had sucked the
vitality out of his spirit, he still preferred a good
honest sinner; for although such an one might slide
down into Hell, he might, given a helpful push, slip
into Heaven. Yet Madame Roustan he tolerated with
a patience which sprang from that great affection
which he had conceived for this woman's son, and
from his hopes of the boy's brilliant future. For young
though Jan was, and over-impetuous — being a child
of a proud and high temper —he already seemed
greatly drawn to the Church, and would speak of the
time when he should enter the priesthood as though
his career were a foregone conclusion.
'When I shall become a priest . . .' he would say;
and then he would start to talk of the heathen, and of
how he would go in a ship like Saint Paul and perhaps
get shipwrecked, or thrown into gaol; for he read very
well considering his age, and Saint Paul had stirred
his imagination. The Cure was no fool, and he
realized that the Saint had but ousted Robinson
Crusoe, and that all this fine talk about shipwrecks
and gaols sprang in part from a youthful desire for
adventure. Yet he thought that he discerned, deep
down in this child, that subtle but unmistakable urge
which compels certain men to serve only the Spirit.
The Cure was pondering these things now, at a time
when he should have been writing his sermon.
Presently he started to compare Jan with Chrifctophe
— in nearly every respect they seemed to differ. Jan
was dark and wiry, having aquiline features, black
eyes, and quick, rather impulsive movements. Chris-
tophe was a red-haired little boy who moved with a
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