“‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills
From whence cometh my help.
My strength cometh from the Lord
Which made heaven and earth.’
“I am going to tell you,” he said, turning to the little French girl. “Perhaps you can help me.”
“I can but try,” Petite Jeanne’s tone was deep and serious.
“I told you of the man who made priceless discoveries regarding color.”
Jeanne leaned far forward to listen. In the corner the gypsy woman sat stolid in silence. The child was playing with some bright feathers in a spot of sunlight on the floor. The place was very still.
“Yes—yes,” the little French girl whispered.
“Perhaps I told you he returned to his home town to find it in desolation and that he gave his precious secrets to his town, and how it prospered after that.”