avenged. CI could kill them — do you not feel like
that also? Eh bien, what is the matter? Have you
swallowed your tongue?*
For Christophe would answer such outbursts with
silence.
Jan would turn his accusing young eyes on his
friend — a child's eyes yet already those of a fanatic:
'You are lukewarm, you blow neither hot nor cold.'
he said angrily one day, falling back on his namesake.
'Is it you who would strike a blow for our Saviour?
When I speak of blasphemers your face becomes
stupid and dull like a mule's— you are dumb like
a mule, like a beast that because it has got no soul
is deprived of all feeling and understanding!'
And the walk came near to being a failure, for
Christophe must struggle to keep his temper, while
Jan must remind himself of the love that he bore this
silent and obstinate creature who seemed so unwilling
to kindle the fire of a faith that was worthy of him as
a Christian.
Thus the weeks slipped by and there came the
March night when those tiresome accounts were per-
plexing poor Jouse. And that night Christophe sat
in his attic alone, reading by the flickering flame of a
candle —he was reading the gospel according to
Saint Luke very carefully, because its beauty im-
pressed him. And whenever his eyes met the name
Galilee, they paused, for to him that name held
great sweetness; and now, as was always the case
these days, he must picture a green and bountiful
country having many deep streams that gushed over
rocks, and wide valleys, and ranges of snow-capped
mountains.
'Yes, but how do I know these things,* he mused;
for even the notes of the singing birds he felt that he
knew —there were many such birds —yet he had
not been told of them by the Cure. The Cure cared