The Cure nodded: 'Most dogs in these parts
get sores on their bodies sooner or later, the poor
beasts ... I fear there is nothing to be done. Here is
your book, and I hope by next Sunday that you will
have learnt your catechism.'
But Christophe persisted: 'I think she feels pain.
Sometimes I can hear her crying all night, and I
do not like to hear Mireio crying.5
'Yet she probably suffers much less than you think,
animals cannot feel pain as we do/ And the Cure
started to turn away, for by now his spiritual restless-
ness was passing. He had asked that Anfos should
carve him a Christ in fine wood to be nailed to an
ebony cross, and when this was completed it would
hang in his study, a more worthy presentment
no doubt than the last —but the Cure's spiritual
restlessness was passing.
Christophe eyed him very gravely for a moment,
and when next he spoke his words puzzled his teacher:
CI know there is something I could do with my hands
that would help her ... It is something I could do
with my hands . . . only ... I cannot think the
thought/
'What thought?5 the Cure enquired, looking round.
But now it was Christophe5s turn to be puzzled:
'That I cannot tell you . . .' he answered dully.
When they had finally left the church, Jan frowned
at his cousin and started to reproach him: 'You
ought not to have troubled Monsieur le Cure with
those stupid questions about Mireio. He will think
you an imbecile if you continue to make all this
fuss about an old dog which when it is dead cannot go
to heaven. And what did you mean about your
hands? It sounded so silly. . . .5
Christophe said nothing.