I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how to peck it with his bill.  I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the forsaken nest.  What will become of him there, if his mother does not come back!

August 15th, six o’clock.—­This morning, on opening my window, I found the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he had been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother.  I tried in vain to warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down!  I placed him on the roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window.  The struggle of life against death has always something gloomy in it:  it is a warning to us.

Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts.

It was my portress.  Excellent woman!  She wished me to read a letter from her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her.

I kept it, to copy it in my journal.  Here it is: 

“Dear mother:  This is to tell you that I have been very well ever since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a better craft anywhere.

“A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I saw the captain sinking.  I went after him, as was my duty, and, after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would have done to an officer.

“I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me.  But it isn’t all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I am promoted to be a sailor of the first class!  Directly I knew it, I cried out, ‘My mother shall have coffee twice a day!’ And really, dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have a larger allowance to send you.

   “I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do
   me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want
   for nothing.

   “Your son, from the bottom of my heart,

“Jacques.”

This is the answer that the portress dictated to me: 

“My good Jacquot:  It makes me very happy to see that your heart is still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have brought you up.  I need not tell you to take care of your life, because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you, dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty.

“Do not fear for my health, good