“‘Try now to eat,’ said I, handing him a biscuit.
“He took it, and I turned away my head, not feeling able to look at him. It was, in fact, the question of the life or death of my child which was to be decided. In putting this question, such a fearful one for a father’s heart, I was playing, as it were, my last card. If I failed, my dear boy would have to die. This test was a decisive one, and I could not see it tried.
“But I was soon relieved of my agony.
“Jules’s voice, joyous and sweet, called me:
“‘Papa! I have swallowed it. I can eat, I knew I could—I had faith!’
“What a surprise it was! My child, who had been at death’s door, was saved, and that instantly. And I, his father, was a witness to this astonishing resurrection.
“But, that I might not disturb the faith of my son, I checked any appearance of astonishment.
“‘Yes, Jules, it was certain, and could not have been otherwise,’ said I, in a voice which I made calm by great effort.
“There was in my breast, however, a whirlwind of excitement. If it could have been opened, it would have been found burning as if full of fire.
“We repeated our experiment. He ate some more biscuits, not only without difficulty, but with an increasing appetite. I was obliged to restrain him.