That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice.  The mother who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to them the necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the preservation of her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a rational choice.  When she had accomplished the mission appointed her by Providence, she cast off the duty as we get rid of a burden, and she returned again to her selfish liberty.  The other mother, on the contrary, will go on with her task as long as God shall leave her here below:  the life of her son will still remain, so to speak, joined to her own; and when she disappears from the earth, she will leave there that part of herself.

Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from all the rest of creation.  Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone perpetuates himself.

CHAPTER IX

THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT

September 15th, Eight O’clock

This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in, and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday.  For the nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in her little fruit-shop.  Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm, and cause her unnecessary pain.  It seems to me that the length of our acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my patronage has become her property.

She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is a joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs again immediately to send him to me.

At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice:  but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial as usual.  Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?

Poor woman!  All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that she might think she had received her full share already.  Were I to live a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her known to me, and which obtained for her my respect.

It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg.  I had noticed her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by its forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it.  I have always instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them, but it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother in poverty.  These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to those whose very existence is in peril—­the only means by which some orphan gains a livelihood.  There the aim of the tradesman is not to enrich himself, but to live!  The purchase you make of him is more than an exchange—­it is a good action.