'Caspi! Now why must he do that?5 thought Jous^.
Loup started to fidget; his knees were so thin that
they generally ached a good deal when he knelt,
and moreover he had come to the end of his prayers
which were briefer than those of his aunt, Madame
Roustan. So now he could think of nothing to say —
that is nothing that seemed to fit the occasion — for
his thoughts had grown somewhat undisciplined and
were dwelling upon Eusebe's legends. He sighed
noisily, shifting from knee to knee, biting his nails
and dropping his Prayer-Book, so that Marie released
the apprentice's hand in order to put an arm round
Loup's shoulders. And as she did this she remembered
the time when he had lain helpless upon her bosom;
so small he had been, le pauvre tout petit Loup, and
because of his smallness so deeply appealing. Nor
was she the only mother that morning to indulge
herself in such gentle remembering as she looked at
the Baby of Bethlehem who must lie upon straw from
the corn-chandler's warehouse — Simon always sent
up the straw for the Creche, it represented his Christ-
mas donation.
A crude and primitive thing that Creche, having
much that was pitifully childish about it; having
neither imagination nor skill; having neither dignity,
art, nor beauty. Yet to those who looked upon it with
faith, to the work-worn women who must bear many
children, to the work-worn men who must ceaselessly
toil, it appeared very natural and reassuring because,
somehow, so much a part of themselves. Mary and
Joseph ... no room at the inn . . . Ah, yes, there
was often no room at the inn for those who were not
possessed of riches. Pecaire, and the Child just about
to be born! Ah, the poor blessed Mother ... no
room at the inn. And surely she must have felt
terribly tired, for had she not come a very long jour-
ney? Thus they saw in that primitive Creche at Saint
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