herself was far from being convinced that this was a
plausible explanation; Christophe was so thoroughly
accustomed to the sun of Provence, as were all the
other children. But she could not give a name to
the curious condition which had overtaken the boy
in the workshop. She had seen him while feeling that
he was not there . . . and surely he also must have
felt the same thing, for had he not said that he thought
he had lost her? Yet her instinct warned her not to
question him again, but rather to let the incident
drop as Christophe himself seemed inclined to do —
indeed only once did he speak of it that day, and
then without any apparent emotion:
'Were you frightened when I went to sleep?' he
asked, her.
'No/ she lied, 'why should I have been frightened,
my son?'
'That is good," he said slowly, 'but yes, that is good,
because I would never like you to be frightened —
I was, though I cannot remember why.3 Then he
went to unchain Mireio in the yard and she heard
him whistling to himself as he did so.
'It cannot have been very serious,' she mused, only
too anxious to find consolation, 'he is quite well again,
thanks to God and His saints; already he has nearly
forgotten all about it. ... It may be that he really
did drop off to sleep. But can a child drop off to
sleep like that, standing?9
§4
And this was how they finally came to explain it
on those rare occasions when it chanced to be men-
tioned: 'The time when Christophe went to sleep at
his work;' for such everyday words sounded reassuring,
and le tout petit Loup had been badly scared, so that
he needed a great deal of reassuring.
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