you, little master/ And one morning he said a curious
thing: 'Mireio and Anfos , . . I think, the same . . . ,
because of their love . . . because of God's love, your
love, God's love ... I think, somehow, the same. Do
not send us from you . . .' And he dropped to his
knees looking up into Christophe's compassionate
eyes.
Then Christophe in his turn said a strange thing:
'Where you are I am; where you go I shall come.
There is no separation, no going away . . .* He
paused, bewildered by his own words.
<Beu Dieu! Ah, Beu Dieu!' smiled Anfos,
And true it was that Jouse had been thinking of
ridding himself of his mad apprentice —- a dark thought
that had lately possessed his mind, though he knew
that the unhappy creature was harmless. But Anfos
made one more mouth to feed, one more body for
which he must somehow find clothing while his own
two sons went ill-fed and ill-clothed; and then there
was now that growing aversion.
He said to Christophe quite casually one evening
when they were alone in the workshop together: CI
shall have to get Anfos put under restraint. He is mad,
and we are too poor to keep him. I shall of course
ask our Cure's advice, for I would not wish him un-
kindly treated, but I know that many asylums exist
where such penniless people are cared for free. I
shall also have to consult the doctor.3 He did not
look at his son as he spoke, but busied himself about
his bench. 'Say nothing as yet to your mother/ he
finished.
It had come, the thing Christophe had long been
dreading; the thing that the madman himself had
known through the strange intuition of the insane,
the thing that had made him beg for protection. And
yet Christophe could see that judged by the world,
by the common standards of human reason, his father
3*9