and must therefore keep close together, for they felt
an intangible dread of separation. They spoke little,
and when they arrived at Jouse's workshop they
Earted without looking at one another, for Jan was
Deling ashamed of his tears, and Christophe divining
this, tried to spare him.
But that night Jan remained a long time on his
knees in front of his crucifix, praying for Christophe.
§3
This particular quarrel although it had passed
quickly, had made a deep impression upon Christophe;
it had strengthened his very unwilling conviction
that in some way he differed from other people, and
this thought was intensely distasteful to him.
Jan had spoken to the Cure about those visions,
and the Cure, it seemed, had not been outraged but
had taken the whole matter almost lightly. He had
called Christophe into the Presbytery at the end of the
usual Sunday instruction, and had listened with a
grave and courteous attention to the boy's replies
to his searching questions, and then he had remarked
that all such happenings were capable of divers
explanations. Christophe might well have fallen
asleep, and who could account for the strangeness
of dreams? Or again, he was probably working hard,
having realized that he was rather backward. Bien,
a tired brain was often an active brain, but not
always a very reliable brain; it played curious
tricks, it imagined things that had no importance
because no existence. And then there had been the
death of the bitch; of course Christophe had fretted
about Mireio. He, the Cure, had once had a dog of
his own, a most faithful creature, a curly retriever.
One could grow very fond indeed of a dog . . . Well
now, might not that account for quite a good deal?