on a block staring down at the top of that craftsman's
head, which he could not but observe was extremely
dirty.

Eusebe took up the unfinished sandals, thrusting
them deftly into position; then he started to coax
and adjust the thongs —one between the toes, one
across the heel, and five lying neatly over the instep.
And the while he worked it seemed he must gabble,
either to the sandals or to himself: 'Santouno! But
what is the matter to-day? I observe that you are in
a bad temper. Do you wish to give him a blister on
his heel? You do not? Then get down a little bit
lower . . . voildl And now what about the big toe
— I think we are rather short in the strap, mais oui,
and that is a very bad fault — gently, gently, it is less
than an eighth of an inch! Ah, but look at the lie of
you over his instep; your lie is superb, so firm yet so
kind. . . . Eusebe, you are a fine sandal-maker.
Eusebe, you could surely have made for the Greeks
and been very well paid, for you know your business.5
During all of which Christophe must perch on his
block, trying hard not to laugh when Eusebe tickled.

But at last Eusebe looked up with a smile which, for
him, was very nearly seraphic: 'The fitting is over
and your sandals go well. I do not think we need
fit them again — you have got the most excellent feet
for sandals!3

So Christophe climbed down and collected his shoes,
blushing because of this unexpected praise. Then he
thanked Eusebe for the generous gift, but somewhat
spoilt the effect of his good manners by turning back
when he had reached the door, in order to ask how
soon he could have it.

'Not before this day week,9 said Eusebe.

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