“You are right, Juliana; he has forbidden me to be sad. He would perceive it, sir. Do you think that when my head had gone wrong in the night, and he came in the morning, and merely looked at me, he would say—'James, you have been thinking that;' and then he would scold me, this dear friend. Yes,” added he, with an expression of joy—“he would scold me, and that would give me pleasure, because he tried to make his words cross, but he could not do it.”
“And what gave you the idea of becoming a water-carrier?”
“He gave me that, also. Do you suppose I have ideas? I began to lose my grief, but my time hung heavy on my hands. At thirty-two years old, to be sitting all day in a chair! He then began to instruct me, as he said, and he told me beautiful stories. The Bible—the history of an old man, blind like me, named Tobias; the history of Joseph; the history of David; the history of Jesus Christ. And then he made me repeat them after him. But my head, it was hard—it was hard; it was not used to learning, and I was always getting tired in my arms and my legs.”
“And he tormented us to death,” said his wife, laughing.
“True, true,” replied he, laughing also; “I became cross. He came again, and said,
“'James, you must go to work.'
“I showed him my poor, burned hands.
“'It is no matter; I have bought you a capital in trade.'
“'Me, Mr. Desgranges?'
“'Yes, James, a capital into which they never put goods, and where they always find them.'