Saviour's, and couplets for fetes
and weddings.
He handed the cage to Jean Jacques, who put it down on the ground at his
feet, and in an instant had handed up five dollars for one of the idols
of his own altar. Anyone else than M. Manotel, or perhaps M. Fille or
the New Cure, would have hesitated to take the five dollars, or, if they
had done so, would have handed it back; but they had souls to understand
this Jean Jacques, and they would not deny him his insistent
independence. And so, in a moment, he was making his way out of the
crowd with the cage in his hand, the bird silent now.
As he went, some one touched his arm and slipped a book into his hand.
It was M. Fille, and the book was his little compendium of philosophy
which his friend had retrieved from his bedroom in the early morning.
"You weren't going to forget it, Jean Jacques?" M. Fille said
reproachfully. "It is an old friend. It would not be happy with
any one else."
Jean Jacques looked M. Fille in the eyes. "Moi--je suis philosophe," he
said without any of the old insistence and pride and egotism, but as one
would make an affirmation or repeat a creed.
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