Stooping, Guillaume kissed the quiet, paralysed
hand: 'All is happy between us then? All is forgiven?'

'But yes/ Jouse smiled, call is happy indeed; and
listen, I am going to tell you something: I feel that
when next we two meet I shall walk. . . /

Tecaire/ thought Guillaume, 'the poor hopeful
man; never will he walk in this world any more/
Aloud he said: 'God grant that you are right. And
now it is time that I went, it grows late. Bless me,
Papa Jouse.'

And Jouse blessed him.

In the workshop Guillaume said good-bye to Chris-
tophe, and he fancied that he was seeing this boy for
the first time in his life, and that what he saw was
somehow unreal and yet convincing. Great beauty
he saw, and pale, luminous eyes that were looking
at him with such vast understanding that he longed to
lose himself in their depths, to bathe his spiritual
wounds in their mercy.
'It must be that I am imagining things/he thought,
'and that will not do at all. Is this not Christophe,,
the carpenter's son whom I have known since he was
a child? Yes, surely this is Christophe Benedit —
there is nothing whatever unusual about him/
Christophe said: 'I am glad that you came here
to-day.5 And his voice was so natural that Guillaume
felt relieved; it was breaking and therefore a trifle
gruff, which only made it the more reassuring.
'I also am glad that I came . . .' answered
Guillaume.
After which there ensued an awkward silence, for
youth is shy of expressing emotion and neither of them
could find just the right words, so that in the end they
gravely shook hands and Christophe turned again to
his work-bench.
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