"They say that he made no difficulties about being stolen."
"And what do they know about it!" cried Theophrastus indignantly.
"Well, the gipsies taught him cudgel-play, fencing, pistol-shooting, the art of springing from roof to roof, juggling, tumbling—"
"All very useful things," said Theophrastus in a tone of approval.
"They taught him to empty the pockets of tradesmen and gentlemen without their perceiving it. Oh, he was a nice boy! No one could touch him at collaring handkerchiefs, snuff-boxes, watches, sword-knots—"
"That was not at all nice!" cried Theophrastus in scandalised tones.
"Oh! If that were all!" said Adolphe gloomily. "The troop of gipsies was at Rouen, when Louis-Dominique fell ill."
"Poor little boy! He was never meant for such a life," cried Theophrastus compassionately.
"He was sent to the Rouen hospital; and there a brother of his father found him. He recognised him, embraced him with tears of joy, and swore to restore him to his parents."
"A fine fellow that uncle! Louis-Dominique was saved!" cried Theophrastus joyfully.