It was difficult to refuse such an offer.  The old Cure would have dearly liked to keep Jean with him, and his heart was torn at the thought of this separation, but what was for the child’s real interest?  That was the only question to be considered; the rest was nothing.  They summoned Jean.

“My child,” said Madame de Lavardens to him, “will you come and live with Paul and me for some years?  I will take you both to Paris.”

“You are very kind, Madame, but I should have liked so much to stay here.”

He looked at the Cure, who turned away his eyes.

“Why must we go?” he continued.  “Why must you take Paul and me away?”

“Because it is only in Paris that you can have all the advantages necessary to complete your studies.  Paul will prepare for his examination at Saint-Cyr.  You know he wishes to be a soldier.”

“So do I, Madame.  I wish to be one, too.”

“You a soldier!” exclaimed the Cure; “but you know that was not at all your father’s idea.  In my presence, he has often spoken of your future, your career.  You were to be a doctor, and, like him, doctor at Longueval, and, like him, devote yourself to the sick and poor.  Jean, my child, do you remember?”

“I remember, I remember.”

“Well, then, Jean, you must do as your father wished; it is your duty, Jean; it is your duty.  You must go to Paris.  You would like to stay here, I understand that well, and I should like it, too; but it can not be.  You must go to Paris, and work, work hard.  Not that I am anxious about that; you are your father’s true son.  You will be an honest and laborious man.  One can not well be the one without the other.  And some day, in your father’s house, in the place where he has done so much good, the poor people of the country round will find another Doctor Reynaud, to whom they may look for help.  And I—­if by chance I am still in this world—­when that day comes, I shall be so happy!  But I am wrong to speak of myself; I ought not, I do not count.  It is of your father that you must think.  I repeat it, Jean, it was his dearest wish.  You can not have forgotten it.”

“No, I have not forgotten; but if my father sees me, and hears me, I am certain that he understands and forgives me, for it is on his account.”

“On his account?”

“Yes.  When I heard that he was dead, and when I heard how he died, all at once, without any need of reflection, I said to myself that I would be a soldier, and I will be a soldier!  Godfather, and you, Madame, I beg you not to prevent me.”

The child burst into tears—­a perfect flood of passionate tears.  The Countess and the Abbe soothed him with gentle words.

“Yes—­yes—­it is settled,” they said; “anything that you wish, all that you wish.”

Both had the same thought—­leave it to time; Jean is only a child; he will change his mind.

In this, both were mistaken; Jean did not change his mind.  In the month of September, 1876, Paul de Lavardens was rejected at Saint-Cyr, and Jean Reynaud passed eleventh at the Ecole Polytechnique.  The day when the list of the candidates who had passed was published, he wrote to the Abbe Constantin: