"Did you sleep, mother? Do you feel well?"
"Yes; but I am very cold. Make a little fire, will you?"
Jacques searched every corner of the hut, looked in the old cupboard, went through the cellar which had formerly contained their supplies, and said,—
"There is no wood left; and there are no roots either."
"Never mind, then. It is not so very cold, after all."
Jacques picked up a stone, hammered at the nail that secured the strap of his wooden shoe, slipped his foot into it, pulled his cap down over his ears, and said resolutely,—
"I am going out to the mountain to get some dead wood."
"Why, you forget that to-day is Christmas, my child!"
"I know; but Monsieur le Curé will forgive me."
"No, no, you must not go; it has been prohibited."