you promised!' he urged, as she hurried away to pre-
pare the tisane.
§2
By the time the good Jouse got home that evening,
Christophe was sleeping quite peacefully. So his
father said: clt was certainly strange, yet I do not
think that we need worry about him —look at him
now, he is fast asleep. He may well have had a slight
touch of the sun; let us see how he is to-morrow morning,
it is rather late to trouble the doctor. Christophe
has always been healthy and strong —do I not know
it, I, who bred him? And now it is time that we also
were in bed, for your husband is no longer so young
as your son and when one is my age one feels this
great heat. . . . Ah, yes, Marioun, your poor hus-
band is ageing!5 Then as though he would contra-
dict his own words he gave her a mighty and bear-
like hug: 'To-day I have done a superb stroke of
business. Segnour Dieu, but I got that timber for
nothing! You shall certainly have a new dress for
Sundays.'
§3
Christophe was perfectly well the next morning.
He had slept a deep and refreshing sleep and was
rather unusually hungry for his breakfast, but Marie
insisted on the holiday from school, although Jouse
thought it unnecessary.
'I promised that he should stay at home,' she said
firmly, for she could not bear the boy out of her sight
— not just yet — and, divining this, Jouse consented.
She was very profoundly bewildered and disturbed
by what had occurred—a touch of the sun was the
explanation that her husband still clung to; but she
139