silent. He and Anfos would stolidly go on with
their work while le tout petit Loup stamped and
howled in fury because he was forbidden to play with
the saw or indulge in some equally dangerous pas-
time. And each might be thinking as he bent to his
task: el have Christophe, therefore what does anything
matter?' At least this might very well be Jouse's
thought —poor Anfos could not always think quite
so clearly.
And yet despite his innumerable faults, le tout
petit Loup was rather pathetic, so hard did he strive
after physical strength, so much did he wish to be
strong like his brother. And his will to battle a weak
way through life, his instinctive fear of getting pushed
under, would suddenly impress Christophe's youthful
mind so that he had moments of real understanding.
When this happened he would play with le tout
petit Loup, being careful to allow him to do all the
winning, being careful to appear very greatly annoyed
at le tout jDetit Loup's repeated triumphs. And
sometimes this succeeded but sometimes it did not,
for le tout petit Loup had the brain of a gimlet, and
if he suspected the subterfuge he would cry and work
himself into a fever. Then Marie might turn to her
elder son and start rebuking him almost sharply; but
he would not resent it, because on the whole he was
little given to feeling resentment, and because when
he looked at her anxious face there would come one
of those moments of understanding.
§3
_Next to Jan, Christophe loved Mireio, the bitch,
who followed him about like a gaunt, limping shadow.
She was ageing, and now at the times of great heat
she would get many sores on her poor troubled body,
and no one attempted to cure these sores, which greatly
distressed and bewildered Christophe. He would
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