NEVERTHELESS, the waif, who was always musing and trying to find reasons
for everything since he had learned to read and had made his first
communion, kept pondering over what Catherine had said to Madame
Blanchet about him; but it was in vain that he reflected, for he could
never understand why, now that he was growing older, he should no longer
kiss Madeleine. He was the most innocent boy in the world, and had no
suspicion of what boys of his age learn all too quickly in the country.
His great simplicity of mind was the result of his singular bringing-up.
He had never felt his position as a foundling to be a disgrace, but it
had made him very shy; for though he had not taken the title as an
insult, he was always surprised to find he possessed a characteristic
which made a difference between himself and those with whom he
associated. Foundlings are apt to be humbled by their fate, which is
generally thrust upon them so harshly that they lose early their
self-respect as Christians. They grow up full of hatred toward those who
brought them into the world, not to speak of those who helped them to
remain in it. It happened, however, that François had fallen into the
hands of Zabelle, who loved him and treated him with kindness, and
afterward he load met with Madeleine, who was the most charitable and
compassionate of women. She had been a good mother to him, and a waif
who receives affection is better than other children, just as he is
worse when he is abused and degraded.
François had never known any amusement or perfect content except when
in the company of Madeleine, and instead of running off with the other
shepherd-boys for his recreation, he had grown up quite solitary, or
tied to the apron-strings of the two women who loved him. Especially
when with Madeleine, he was as happy as Jeannie could be, and he was in
no haste to play with the other children, who were sure to call him a
waif, and with whom he soon felt himself a stranger, though he could not
tell why.
So he reached the age of fifteen without any knowledge of wrong or
conception of evil; his lips had never uttered an unclean word, nor had
his ears taken in the meaning of one. Yet, since the day that Catherine
had censured his mistress for the affection she showed him, the child
had the great good sense and judgment to forego his morning kiss from
the miller's wife. He pretended to forget about it, or perhaps to be
ashamed of being coddled like a little girl, as Catherine had said. But
at the bottom, he had no such false shame, and he would have laughed at
the idea, had he not guessed that the sweet woman he loved might incur
blame on his account. Why should she be blamed? He could not understand
it, and though he saw that he could never find it out by himself, he
shrank from asking Madeleine for an explanation. He knew that her
strength of love and kindness of heart had enabled her to endure the
carping of others; for he had a good memory, and recollected that
Madeleine had been upbraided, and had narrowly escaped blows in former
years because of her goodness to him.
Now, owing to his good instincts, he spared her the annoyance of being
rebuked and ridiculed on his account. He understood, and it is wonderful
that the poor child could understand, that a waif was to be loved only
in secret; and rather than cause any trouble to Madeleine, he would have
consented to do without her love.
He was attentive to his work, and as, in proportion as he grew older, he
had more to do, it happened that he was less and less with Madeleine. He
did not grieve for this, for, as he toiled, he said to himself that it
was for her, and that he would have his reward in seeing her at meals.
In the evening, when Jeannie was asleep and Catherine had gone to bed,
François still stayed up with Madeleine while she worked, and read
aloud to her, or talked with her. Peasants do not read very fast, so
that the two books they had were quite sufficient for them. When they
read three pages in an evening they thought it was a great deal, and
when the book was finished, so much time had passed since the beginning
that they could take it up again at the first page without finding it
too familiar. There are two ways of reading, and it may not be amiss to
say so to those persons who think themselves well educated. Those who
have much time to themselves and many books, devour so many of them and
cram so much stuff into their heads, that they are utterly confused; but
those who have neither leisure nor libraries are happy when a good book
foils into their hands. They begin it over again a thousand times
without weariness, and every time something strikes them which they had
not observed before. In the main, the idea is always the same, but it is
so much dwelt upon, so thoroughly enjoyed and digested, that the single
mind which possesses it is better fed and more healthy than thirty
thousand brains full of wind and twaddle. What I am telling you, my
children, I have from the parish priest, who knows all about it.
So these two persons lived happy with what they had to consume in the
matter of learning; and they consumed it slowly, helping each other to
understand and love all that makes us just and good. Thus they grew in
piety and courage; and they had no greater joy than to feel themselves
at peace with all the world, and to be of one mind at all times and in
all places, on the subject of the truth and the desire of holy living.
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