163 A TOUE HOUND MI GARDEN. 



the face, and he crossed over to the other side of the boat. 

 I longed to chat with that woman, but I feared to offend her 

 by addressing her ; perhaps she laight fancy I was more bold 

 with her than with others. The boy came and leant upon 

 the side of the boat; I spoke to him, but I found myself 

 absolutely timid with this child of twelve years old ; I could 

 almost have thanked him for having the kindness to answer 

 me. I beheved I beheld in this poverty the most respectable 

 thing I had ever contemplated in my life. I should very 

 much have hked to know whether the mother saw me talking 

 with interest with her chUd, but I did not dare to look 

 towards her. I swear that there was not the least personal 

 thought in all this, for I had at that time in both my heart 

 and my head as much love for another as they could reason- 

 ably contain ; but I had perceived how this woman's feelings 

 had been wounded by the rudeness of that wretched fellow. 

 I hoped to efface this impression by a contrary one. I took 

 pleasure in answering the questions of the boy, who was 

 more bold with me than I was with him; and I likewise 

 took pleasure in imagining the series of thoughts my attention 

 to the child might create in the bosom of the mother. In 

 the first place, she would perceive that her boy was not 

 destined to be repulsed by everybody because he was poor; 

 then she might think that his questions and language in- 

 terested a man, and she might say to herself, ' He must be 

 intelligent for that gentleman to take such notice of him — 

 he will become a clever man — some day he wiU attain to 

 honours.' She beckoned him to her with a sign ; she drew 

 from a kind of flat basket, concealed under her mantle, 

 a piece of bread and two apples, which she gave him. There 

 are whimsical things to be met with, that perhaps very few 

 persons would comprehend. I had never seen this woman, 

 and yet it appeared to me that there existed a mysterious 

 tie between us. 1 heard within me a voice which said to 

 her, ' Thou art unhappy, I will console thee ; thou art poor, 

 I will work for thee.' As I have proved, it was not love, 

 but it was a warm, pious charity, full of respectful tender- 

 ness, — perhaps it was a kind of love; however that might 

 be, if she had deigned to speak to me, I know my heart 

 would have melted with joy. 



