the English called It-ton, and declaring that it felt
all wrong on his neck, while he, Loup, could scarcely
contain his desire to see his own neck rising out of
that collar. It was indeed a real cause for regret
that he had been pert to Monsieur le Cure,
Marie said: cYou may now take the suit off, my
son;' and she started to unbutton the magnificent
waistcoat.
Then Christophe unfastened the collar with a
plop and divested himself of his shoes and stockings,
then his jacket, while Marie dragged down the
breeches and carefully drew the shirt over his head,
taking pains that it should not get creased in the pro-
cess. With a sigh of relief Christophe thrust his brown
legs into shorts made from Jouse's old linen trousers,
and his head into a sleeveless striped cotton vest,
and his feet into the pliant, well-contrived sandals.
'You are not what the English call: "Gen-tell-
men," ' scoffed Loup, 'you behave like what the
English call: "Com-mune" * for Monsieur Roland
had once been to Hull, and would sometimes dis-
course with his pupils of England, dropping a word
here and there by the way, just to show how conversant
he was with the language.
Said Jouse: 'Well, this I can surely affirm: no
boy will be better dressed than our Christophe. You
may very well hold your head high, my son, the suit
fits superbly, while as for the cost . . . But your
mother is of my opinion, I know — there are certain
occasions upon which one spends money/
'Mais surement, surement . . .' Marie agreed.
'And besides, our Christophe has quite a fine figure/
Le tout petit Loup turned white and then red,
while his eyes became less like a sick marmoset's and
more like a thoughtful, malevolent monkey's as he
watched his mother folding the suit, then the wide
flottant tie, then the soft woollen stockings, and finally
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