and key the rest of the time. You should have
seen the mistress at supper time serving the soup,
sighing at each ladleful she dished out. The
other apprentices, two blind boys, were less unhappy;
they were not given more than I, but they could not
see the reproachful look the wicked woman used to
give me as she handed me my plate. And then,
unfortunately, I was always so terribly hungry.
Was it my fault, do you think? I served there
for three years, in a continual fit of hunger.
Three years! And one can learn the work in one
month. But the managers could not know everything,
and had no suspicion that the children were abused.
Ah! you were astonished just now when you saw me take
the bread out of the mud? I am used to that for
I have picked up enough of it; and crusts from the
dust, and when they were too hard and dry, I would
soak them all night in my basin. I had windfalls
sometimes, such as pieces of bread nibbled at the
ends, which the children would take out of their baskets
and throw on the sidewalks as they came from school.
I used to try to prowl around there when I went on
errands. At last my time was ended at this trade
by which no man can support himself. Well, I did
many other things, for I was willing enough to work.
I served the masons; I have been shop-boy, floor-polisher,
I don’t know what all! But, pshaw; to-day,
work is lacking, another time I lose my place:
Briefly, I never have had enough to eat. Heavens!
how often have I been crazy with hunger as I have passed
the bakeries! Fortunately for me; at these times
I have always remembered the good Sister at the Asylum,
who so often told me to be honest, and I seemed to
feel her warm little hand upon my forehead. At
last, when I was eighteen I enlisted; you know as
well as I do, that the trooper has only just enough.
Now,—I could almost laugh—here
is the siege and famine! You see, I did not lie,
when I told you, just now that I have always, always,
been hungry!”
The young duke had a kind heart and was profoundly
moved by this terrible story, told him by a man like
himself, by a soldier whose uniform made him his equal.
It was even fortunate for the phlegm of this dandy,
that the night wind dried the tears which dimmed his
eyes.
“Jean-Victor,” said he, ceasing in his
turn, by a delicate tact, to speak familiarly to the
foundling, “if we survive this dreadful war,
we will meet again, and I hope that I may be useful
to you. But, in the meantime, as there is no
bakery but the commissary, and as my ration of bread
is twice too large for my delicate appetite,—it
is understood, is it not?—we will share
it like good comrades.”
It was strong and hearty, the hand-clasp which followed:
then, harassed and worn by their frequent watches
and alarms, as night fell, they returned to the tavern,
where twelve soldiers were sleeping on the straw;
and throwing themselves down side by side, they were
soon sleeping soundly.
Toward midnight Jean-Victor awoke, being hungry probably.
The wind had scattered the clouds, and a ray of moonlight
made its way into the room through a hole in the roof,
lighting up the handsome blonde head of the young
duke, who was sleeping like an Endymion.