"Oh, you are so good!"

"Perhaps in this old, hardened vagabond there is still a bit of the young man's heart left. This old vagabond calculated shrewdly, but the young man still in him upset all.... Now, where to go?" he murmured.

It was already late and the cold had increased. It was going to be a hard night. For a long time Vitalis sat on the stone. Capi and I stood silently before, waiting until he had come to some decision. Finally he rose.

"Where are we going?"

"To Gentilly, to try and find a race-course where I've slept sometimes.

Are you tired?"

"I rested at Garofoli's."

"The pity is that I haven't rested, and I can't do much more. But we must get along. Forward! March! Children!"

This was his good humor signal for the dogs and myself when we were about to start, but this night he said it sadly.

Here we were, wandering in the streets of Paris; the night was dark and the gas jets, which flickered in the wind, lit the alleys but dimly. At each step we slipped on the ice-covered pavement. Vitalis held me by the hand, and Capi followed at our heels. From time to time, the poor dog stopped behind to look amongst a heap of garbage to see if he could find a bone or a crust, for he was oh, so hungry, but the garbage was covered with frozen snow and he searched in vain. With drooping ears he trotted on to catch up with us.

After the big streets, more alleys; after the alleys, more big streets; we walked on, and on; the few pedestrians that we met stared at us in astonishment. Was it our costumes? Was it the tired way we plodded along which arrested their attention? The policemen that we pa.s.sed turned round and followed us with a glance.

Without saying a word, Vitalis tramped on, his back almost bent double, but despite the cold, his hand burned in mine. It seemed to me that he was trembling. Sometimes, when he stopped to lean for a minute against my shoulder, I felt all his body shaken with trembling. Ordinarily, I would not dare to have questioned him, but I felt I must to-night.

Besides, I had a great wish to tell him how much I loved him or, at least, that I wanted to do something for him.

"You are ill?" I said, when he stopped again.

"I'm afraid so; anyway, I'm very tired. This cold is too severe for my old blood. I need a good bed and a supper before a fire. But that's a dream. Forward! March! Children."

Forward! March! We had left the city behind us; we were now in the suburbs. We saw no people or policemen or street lights, only a lighted window here and there, and over our heads the dark-blue sky dotted with a few stars. The wind, which blew more bitter and more violently, stuck our clothing to our bodies. Fortunately, it was at our backs, but as the sleeves of my coat were all torn near the shoulders, it blew in and slipped along my arms, chilling me to the bone.

Although it was dark and the streets continually crossed each other, Vitalis walked like a man who knows his way, and was perfectly sure of his road. So I followed, feeling sure that we should not lose ourselves.

Suddenly, he stopped.

"Do you see a group of trees?" he asked.

"I don't see anything."

"You don't see a big black ma.s.s?"

I looked on all sides before answering. I saw no trees or houses. s.p.a.ce all around us. There was no other sound save the whistle of the wind.

"See, down there!" He stretched out his right hand before him, then, as I did not reply, for I was afraid to say that I saw nothing, he trudged on again.

Some minutes pa.s.sed in silence; then he stopped once more and asked me if I did not see a group of trees. A vague fear made my voice tremble when I replied that I saw nothing.

"It is fear, my boy, that makes your eyes dance; look again."

"I tell you, I do not see any trees."

"Not on the big road?"

"I can't see anything."

"We've made a mistake."

I could say nothing, for I did not know where we were, nor where we were going.

"Let us walk for another five minutes and, if we do not see the trees, we will come back here. I might have made a mistake on the road."

Now that I knew that we had gone astray, I seemed to have no more strength left. Vitalis pulled me by the arm.

"Come, come."

"I can't walk any farther."

"Ah, and do you think I'm going to carry you?"

I followed him.

"Are there any deep ruts in the road?"

"No."

"Then we must turn back."

We turned. Now we faced the wind. It stung our faces like a lash. It seemed that my face was being scorched with a flame.

"We have to take a road leading from the cross-roads," said my master feebly; "tell me when you see it."

For a quarter of an hour we went on, struggling against the wind; in the doleful silence of the night the noise of our footsteps echoed on the dry, hard earth. Although scarcely able to put one foot before the other, it was I who dragged Vitalis. How anxiously I looked to the left!

In the dark shadows I suddenly saw a little red light.

"See, there's a light," I said, pointing.

"Where?"

Vitalis looked; although the light was but a short distance off, he saw nothing. I knew then that his sight was going.

"What is that light to us?" he asked; "it is a lamp burning on the table of some worker, or it's near the bed of a dying person. We cannot go and knock at those doors. Away in the country, during the night, you can ask hospitality, but so near Paris ... we must not expect hospitality here. Come."

A few steps more and I thought I could make out the cross-roads and a black ma.s.s which must be the trees. I let go of my master's hand to go ahead quicker. There were deep ruts in the road.

"See, here are the ruts?" I cried.

"Give me your hand, we are saved," said Vitalis; "look, now you can see the group of trees."

I told him that I thought I could see the trees.

"In five minutes we shall be there," he murmured.