'Let us hide ourselves,5 he would mutter darkly, as
though they were once more playing at pirates, 'let us
hide and examine my ill-gotten spoils — I bulge with
them.' So off they would go to the attic.
Then Jan would produce the food he had hoarded,
somewhat flattened and bruised but none the less
welcome; and seeing the peaches Christophe would
pause, knowing well that they ought to be saved for his
brother. But in the end conscience would have to give
place to the ravening claims of that growing body;
skins and all, he would quickly devour the lot, scarcely
waiting to spit out the rough, stringy stones — this to
Jan's never failing distress and amazement.
'Ah, Christophe, ai! las, ai! las . . .'he might say,
no longer able to feel light-hearted.
But Christophe would heave a deep sigh of content
as he turned his attention to bread and cheese, or to
Hermitte's sweet cakes and delectable croissants.
Jan was becoming much gentler these days, for now
he in his turn was stirred by compassion, so that when
. the feasting had come to an end he would often listen
with patience and tact to much that he privately
thought must be fancy. Christophe would tell of those
glorious swims, and of how when he gave himself up
to the water he would feel like a creature without a
soul, like a part of the sea and completely happy.
And then he would tell of those walks in the vineyards,
of the untroubled vines with their lovely greenness, of
the earth that knew neither sorrow nor pain, of the
smell of the earth that was full of contentment. Yes,
but then he would tell of the madness of Anfos, of his
father's bitter, destructive anger, and of all that was
devastating their home, turning peace to turmoil,
achievement to ruin. And one evening he tried very-
hard to tell of those words which possessed the power
of healing.
'You see, they are in me, Jan,' he said gravely;
3*9