'Jean-Marie,' cried the Doctor, in a voice that was only too seraphic to

be called hysterical, 'is it--? It is!' he cried. 'O, my son, my son!'

And he sat down upon the hamper and sobbed like a little child.

'You will not go to Paris now,' said Jean-Marie sheepishly.

'Casimir,' said Desprez, raising his wet face, 'do you see that boy, that

angel boy? He is the thief; he took the treasure from a man unfit to be

entrusted with its use; he brings it back to me when I am sobered and

humbled. These, Casimir, are the Fruits of my Teaching, and this moment

is the Reward of my Life.'

'_Tiens_,' said Casimir.

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