What were we poor things going to do when we reached Paris? I wanted to question Vitalis, but I did not dare, he seemed so gloomy. When we were in sight of the roofs and the church towers of the capital, he slackened his step to walk beside me.
"Remi," he said suddenly, "we are going to part when we get to Paris."
I looked at him. He looked at me. The sudden pallor of my face and the trembling of my lips told him what effect his words had on me. For a moment I could not speak.
"Going to part!" I murmured at last.
"Poor little chap, yes, we must part."
The tone in which he said this brought the tears to my eyes. It was so long since I had heard a kind word.
"Oh, you are so good," I cried.
"It is you who are good. You brave little heart. There comes a time in one's life when one feels these things. When all goes well, one goes along through life without thinking much who is with one, but when things go wrong, when one is on the wrong track, and above all when one is old, one wants to lean on somebody. You may be surprised that I have wanted to lean on you. And yet it is so. But only to see that your eyes are moist as you listen to me, comforts me, little Remi. I am very unhappy."
I did not know what to say. I just stroked his hand.
"And the misfortune is that we have to part just at the time when we are getting nearer to each other."