Michael would have been perfectly happy in following this kind of busy, useful life, had it not been for the grief he felt in being unable to share his pleasures with Gervais. But when, after having slept at the best inn which the town or village in which they happened to be, afforded, he saw Gervais in the morning, pale, from having passed a cold or rainy night with no other shelter than an old barn, his heart was pierced; and, notwithstanding his father's commands, he found means to get away, and, with a flask in his hand, hastened to offer a glass of wine to his friend, who refused it with a shake of the head, but with a friendly look. Michael sighed; yet this refusal only served to increase his affection for Gervais; for he well knew that his offer was refused from honourable feelings, not from pride or rancour. Nor was his mind relieved, except when Gervais succeeded in finding work; for then he knew that he would have a good day. When at work, the habitually sad expression of Gervais' countenance, gave place to an air of animation quite pleasant to behold; and even Va-bon-train himself had been unable to resist the temptation of stopping to look at him; and, observing the dexterity and courage with which he managed the horses, he remarked, "By my faith, that fellow works well." Then Michael hastened to reply, "Oh! Gervais is a capital workman;" and he was beginning to add, "and such a good boy too," when Va-bon-train passed on and spoke of other things. Michael then contented himself with remaining a little behind, watching Gervais at work; and when they had exchanged looks, they separated satisfied.

Up to that time Gervais had been unsuccessful in his efforts to find a master who would take him into regular employment. There was no one to be answerable for him; and those with whom he travelled were not of a character to give him a recommendation. However, he made the best he could of his wandering life, by endeavouring to perfect himself in his trade, losing no opportunity of gaining information, and examining with care the treatment employed in the various maladies of animals, and all the other operations of the veterinary art. He also managed to live on his daily earnings, which he economized with the greatest care, and thereby escaped the necessity of partaking of the ill-gotten repasts of La Mauricaude and her son. Sometimes even he shared his own food with his father, whose wretched life was spent in a state of alternate intoxication and want, giving himself up to drink the moment he had money, and the next day going without bread. As it suited La Mauricaude to have some one who could take care of the ass and the parrot, while she and her son attended to their own affairs, they were induced to treat Matthew with some degree of consideration, at least so far as to allow him a share in their profits, of which, however, they were careful to conceal from him the source, for Matthew, even in his degraded condition, preserved an instinct of honesty, which sometimes caused him to say with a significant air, but only when he was intoxicated, "As for me, I am an honest man;" for when sober, he had not so much wit. La Mauricaude had several times endeavoured to get from Gervais the money he earned, but her demands were always firmly resisted, and Gervais afterwards took especial care not to leave his money within reach of her or her son. She had likewise tried to breed dissensions between him and his father; but Matthew respected his son, and La Mauricaude found that it was not to her interest to excite too much the attention of Gervais, for his surveillance would have been very inconvenient to her. She therefore ended by leaving him in tolerable peace, one reason of which may have been that she saw little of him, as he usually left the party as soon as it was day, and did not return until bed-time, when he rarely slept under a roof, unless it was that of some deserted shed.

The performances of the morning were over, and Va-bon-train stood chatting at the door of the inn where he had dined with an old friend, a blacksmith from Lyons. They were then about twenty-five leagues distant from that town, on the road to Tournon, whither the blacksmith was going on some private business. Blanchet, such was this person's name, was clever at his trade, and well to do in the world. The blacksmith of the village in which they were then staying was a former apprentice and workman of his, and he had stopped to visit him as he passed through, and was now on the point of resuming his journey. The forge was at a short distance from the inn; and Gervais, who had just left it, as it was getting dark, came up to the spot where Va-bon-train and Blanchet were conversing. The street was narrow, and, moreover, partially blocked up by a horse that was tied in front of the inn. Va-bon-train chancing to turn his head in the direction by which Gervais was approaching, perceived him coming, and drew back to allow him to pass. Gervais blushed and hesitated; he had not been so close to his uncle for two months. At length he passed on, and, without raising his eyes, bowed to him as he would have done to a stranger, but with an expression of the most profound respect. Michael's eyes were suffused with tears, and for a moment those of Va-bon-train followed his nephew, who, turning round and encountering his uncle's looks, hastily withdrew his own and continued his way.

"Do you know that lad?" demanded Blanchet.

—"Why?"

"Because yonder at the forge, a short time since, they were talking about you."

—"And what did he say?" continued Va-bon-train, with an expression of rising displeasure.

—"He? Nothing:—but one of the men was relating something, I don't know what, about a woman with whom he had been drinking yesterday, some two leagues hence, and who told him that you had abandoned your brother in misfortune. This lad immediately tapped him on the shoulder, saying, 'Comrade, that is no business of yours. It is always best not to interfere in family quarrels.' The man was silenced; and I, learning from what passed, that you were here, for I had not then been out upon the green, I wished to add my word, so I said, that if you did leave your brother in misfortune, it must be because he deserved it, for I well knew the kindness of your heart; whereupon, the young fellow gave me also my answer, though politely enough however, for he said, 'Notwithstanding all that, Master Blanchet, it is much better not to interfere in family affairs;' and the lad was right as to that; but from all this I thought he must know you, more especially when, a short time since, while passing the inn-yard, I saw him enter it, and draw some water for your dog to drink."

Va-bon-train was visibly moved. Michael, whose heart beat violently, looked at his father.

"He was at work, then, at the blacksmith's?" demanded the latter with some degree of emotion.

"Yes; and hard at it too, I can tell you. It is vexatious that you do not know him. He was anxious to be taken as a regular hand there; but when asked who would be answerable for him, he replied, 'No one.' Had it not been for this, I would have engaged him myself, for I am sure he will turn out a capital workman."

"You think so?"

"Oh! you should see how he sets to work; he would learn more about his business with me in six months, than with any one else in three years. But one cannot take him without a recommendation. I heard him say to one of his companions, that this was the third situation he had lost in this manner, nor will he ever get one."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Michael, who could no longer restrain his feelings.

"Well!" said Va-bon-train. "My friend Blanchet will take him on my recommendation. Take him, friend; I know him, and will be answerable for him."

"Nonsense! what are