"Good morning, grandfather," said George, tenderly embracing the old man. "Did you rest well during the night?"

"Quite well, my boy."

"Here is your milk soup. I'm afraid I kept you waiting."

"Not at all. It is only just day. I heard you rise and open your window--about an hour ago."

"That's so, grandfather. I felt my head heavy--I wanted to breathe the early air."

"I also heard you during the night walk up and down your room."

"Poor grandfather! Did I keep you awake?"

"No, I was not sleepy. But, George, be frank with me. There's something troubling you."

"Me? Nothing at all."

"For several months you have looked depressed; you have grown pale; you have changed so much as not to be recognizable. You are no longer as light of heart as you were when you returned from your regiment."

"I a.s.sure you, grandfather--"

"You a.s.sure me--you a.s.sure me! I know perfectly well what I see. As far as that is concerned I can not be deceived. I have a mother's eyes--come, now--"

"That's true," replied George smiling. "I think it is _grandmother_ I should call you--because you are good, tender and uneasy about me, like a true grandma. But believe me, you alarm yourself unnecessarily. Here, hold your spoon; wait a minute till I place the table on your bed. You will be more at ease."

George took from a corner a pretty little shining walnut table of the shape of the trays used by patients for eating on in their beds. After placing upon it the bowl of soup, he gently pushed it in front of the old man.

"There is none like you, my boy, for such thoughtfulness," observed the grandfather.

"It would have been a devilish thing, grandfather, if, with all my carpenter's skill, I had failed to put together this little table that is so handy for you."

"Oh! You have an answer for everything--I know that," observed the old man, smiling.

And with a shaky hand he began his meal. So tremulous were his motions that several times the spoon struck against his teeth.

"Oh, my poor boy!" exclaimed the old man sadly. "Just see how my hands tremble. It seems to me they grow worse every day."

"Nonsense, grandfather! To me, on the contrary, your hands seem to be growing steadier--"

"Oh, no! 'Tis all over--all over. There is no remedy can bring me help in my infirmity."

"Why, do you prefer me to take your hopeless view of the case--"

"That's just what I should have done since this affliction began. And, yet, I can not accustom myself to the idea of being an invalid, and a burden to others unto the end of my life."

"Grandfather! Grandfather! If you talk that way we shall have to fall out."

"I wonder what made me commit the stupidity of taking to the trade of gilder of metals. At the end of twenty years, often before that, one-half of those artisans shake like myself; but, differently from myself, they have no grandchildren who spoil them--"

"Grandfather!"

"Yes, you spoil me; I repeat it--you spoil me--"

"Let it be so! Now, then, I shall give you t.i.t for tat; it is the only way to spike your guns, as we were taught in the regiment. Well, I knew a fine man; his name was father Morin; he was a widower with a daughter of about eighteen. The worthy man married his daughter to a gallant young fellow, but over-much given to resent wrong, and one day he received an ugly blow in a fight, so ugly that two years after his marriage he died, leaving his young wife with a boy in her arms."

"George! George!"

"The poor young mother nursed her child. Her husband's death was such a shock to her that she followed him shortly after--and her little boy remained upon the hands of his grandfather."

"Good G.o.d, George! How merciless you are! What is the sense in ever coming back to all that?"

"He loved the boy so much that he would not part with him. During the day, when he had to work in the shop, a good neighbor kept the urchin with her. But, the instant the grandfather returned home, he had but one thought on his mind, but one cry on his lips--'My little George.' He looked after him as lovingly as the best and tenderest of mothers. He ruined himself getting pretty clothes and pretty hats for the chap. He rigged the little fellow up to his own taste, and the grandfather was very proud of his grandchild. And so it came about that all the people in the neighborhood, who loved the worthy man greatly, began to call him the _nurse-father_."

"But, George!"

"In that way he brought up the boy, cared for him night and day, attended to all his needs, sent him to school, then to his apprenticeship, until--"

"So much the worse!" cried out the old man, unable any longer to contain himself. "Seeing we are to tell the truth to each other, I shall have my turn, and we shall see! First of all, you were the son of my daughter Georgiana, whom I doted upon. I only did my duty--take that, to begin with--"

"Neither have I done any more than my duty."

"You? Don't tell me that!" cried the old man, vehemently brandishing his spoon. "You! This is what you did: Good luck saved you from drawing the lot of going into the army--"

"Grandfather! Take care!"

"Oh, you can not frighten me!"

"You will upset your bowl of soup if you go on in that way."

"I 'go on'! The devil take it! Do you think I have no blood left in my veins? Yes, answer, you who are always speaking of other people! When my infirmity began, what is it that you did, unhappy boy? You went in search of a merchant of men."

"Grandfather, your soup will grow cold; for heaven's sake take it while it is warm."

"Ta, ta, ta! You want to shut my mouth. I am not your dupe. Yes! And what did you say to the merchant of men? 'My grandfather is ailing; he can hardly any longer earn his living; I am his only support; I may fail him, either through sickness, or through lack of work; he is old; secure to him a little life annuity, and I shall sell myself to you.' And you did it!" cried the old man with tears in his eyes, and raising his spoon to the ceiling with such vehemence that, if George had not quickly seized the table it would have tumbled down to the floor with the bowl of soup and all.

The young man exclaimed:

"'Sdeath, grandfather! Keep quiet! You are carrying on like the devil in a sacristy. You will upset everything."

"I don't care! It will not keep me from telling you why and how it came about that you became a soldier, and how you sold yourself for me--to a merchant of men--"

"All that talk is a pretext to keep you from eating your soup. I see, you think it is not well made."

"Just listen to him! I, find his soup bad! Well, well!" exclaimed the old man in pitiful accents, "That devil of a boy has made up his mind to break my heart!"

Father Morin furiously dipped his spoon into the bowl, and precipitately carrying it to his mouth said while eating: "You see--you see--how bad I find your soup--see-see--Oh! it is bad--see--see--Oh, I don't like it at all!"

"For heaven's sake, now you are going too fast," cried George, holding back his grandfather's arm. "You will choke yourself."