"Rustle—that is the word. Now, that is what, he has learned in life— the way to peace. When I left him, it was with Virginie close beside him, and when I said to him, 'Will you come back to us one day, Jean Jacques?' he said, 'But no, Fille, my friend; it is too far. I see it— it is a million miles away—too great a journey to go with the feet, but with the soul I will visit it. The soul is a great traveller. I see it always—the clouds and the burnings and the pitfalls gone—out of sight— in memory as it was when I was a child. Well, there it is, everything has changed, except the child-memory. I have had, and I have had not; and there it is. I am not the same man—but yes, in my love just the same, with all the rest—' He did not go on, so I said, 'If not the same, then what are you, Jean Jacques?'"
"Ah, Fille, in the old days he would have said that he was a philosopher" —said his sister interrupting. "Yes, yes, one knows—he said it often enough and had need enough to say it. Well, said he to me, 'Me, I am a' —then he stopped, shook his head, and so I could scarcely hear him, murmured, 'Me—I am a man who has been a long journey with a pack on his back, and has got home again.' Then he took Virginie's hand in his."
The old man's fingers touched the corner of his eye as though to find something there; then continued. "'Ah, a pedlar!' said I to him, to hear what he would answer. 'Follies to sell for sous of wisdom,' he answered. Then he put his arm around Virginie, and she gave him his pipe."
"I wish M. Carcasson knew," the little grey lady remarked.
"But of course he knows," said the Clerk of the Court, with his face turned to the sunset.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Courage which awaits the worst the world can do
Good thing for a man himself to be owed kindness
I can't pay you for your kindness to me, and I don't want to
No past that is hidden has ever been a happy past
She was not to be forced to answer his arguments directly
That iceberg which most mourners carry in their breasts
The soul is a great traveller
You can't take time as the measure of life