THE QUETEUX 



the pipe lest a coal escape. A strange ap- 

 parition is he thus upon the road, with hands 

 clasped over the bowl of his pipe and a rag 

 draping his ears. 



At twenty-five he made a fortune — two 

 thousand francs — scraped together in a long 

 bout of labour as a journeyman-printer in 

 Paris. The earning of so vast a sum can- 

 celled his debt to the world till the end of 

 time, yet did his wealth soon take wings 

 in the land of gold across the sea. Bare 

 of everything, he tramped northward and 

 eastward to another Eldorado where social 

 economics do not stay the giving hand, and 

 want is never so far away that the bitter 

 pinch of it passes out of mind. Here he is 

 received, even welcomed; for he renders 

 little services, bears messages, passes on the 

 gossip, finds something in his store to return 

 for entertainment. Against his truthful- 

 ness and his honesty no word is said. 

 All the coppers and silver that come his 

 way are hoarded, and by the time snows are 

 lying too thick upon the road for feeble 

 legs to compass long marches, he has laid in 

 his winter provision. In quantity — accord- 

 ing to his gleanings — the staples vary, but 

 not in kind— flour, rice, fat, tea, sugar. 

 With these he withdraws to some deserted 

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