"Certainly."
"But I have an idea,—the sun didn't make itself, and if we are grateful to it, why, there is greater reason still why—"
"Why we should be grateful to him who created it; that is what you mean, Mont Saint-Jean? You are right; and we ought to pray to, adore him,—he is God!"
"Yes, that is my idea!" exclaimed the prisoner, joyously. "That is it! I ought to be grateful to my companions, but I ought to pray to, adore you, Goualeuse, for it is you who made them so good to me, instead of being so unkind as they had been."
"It is God you should thank, Mont Saint-Jean, and not me."
"Yes, yes, yes, it is you, I see you; and it is you who did me such kindness, by yourself and others."
"But if I am as good as you say, Mont Saint-Jean, it is God who has made me so, and it is he, therefore, whom we ought to thank."
"Ah, indeed, it may be so since you say it!" replied the prisoner, whose mind was by no means decided; "and if you desire it, let it be so; as you please."
"Yes, my poor Mont Saint-Jean, pray to him constantly, that is the best way of proving to me that you love me a little."
"If I love you, Goualeuse? Don't you remember, then, what you said to those other prisoners to prevent them from beating me?—'It is not only her whom you beat, it is her child also!' Well, it is all the same as the way I love you; it is not only for myself that I love you, but also for my child."