'Christophers place is here with his father/ said
Jouse; 'My son is a Benedit, Monsieur le Cure, and a
Benedit does not turn tail and run from his duty
because he fears for his stomach. Many years we have
worked for this town of Saint Loup — my father, his
father and his father's father. Timber brought us
success and through it we will fail if we must, but
we will not give up our tradition. My son is being
trained to follow our trade, and so long as there is
even a fence to mend I intend that he shall continue
his training. While I am alive he remains at his bench.
That is my decision, Monsieur le Cure.5
But now the Cure in his turn was stubborn, thanks
to his anxiety over his pupil, and he started to argue
quite vigorously, pointing out the gross and unparal-
leled folly of preventing Christophe from taking a
job when, as everyone knew, things had come to a pass
that was forcing Jouse to fall back on his savings:
'Benedit/ he concluded, 'you are terribly wrong.
God helps those who help themselves, remember, and
although you are suffering for what you have felt to
be right, for upholding an honest tradition, you are
also suffering for pride's sake, my son.'
'Then I will continue to suffer,' frowned Jouse.
The Cure got up, at last convinced that his * argu-
ments were utterly fruitless, and taking his hat he
walked out of the house: cln another moment,' he
said to himself as he went, 'I must surely have lost
my temper.'
Goundran came: 'I am worried about my godson.
Why not let me make a sailor of Christophe? Listen,
Jouse, I am going to buy a new boat so shall soon be
needing a sensible lad. Only say the word and the
matter is settled — may I have him?' But Jouse shook
his grey head. * 'He is dulling his brain with drink/
thought Goundran.
Madame Roustan arrived; she knew of employment.
3*4