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Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great - Volume 04 - Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Painters by Elbert Hubbard
page 202 of 267 (75%)
Tears rained down the wrinkled, leathery cheeks of the old grandmother;
the mother stood by dazed and dumb, nursing a six-months-old babe;
children of various ages hung to the skirts of mother and grandmother,
tearful and mystified; the father leaned on the gate, smoking a pipe,
displaying a stolidity he did not feel.

The diligence swung around the corner and came rattling down the single,
stony, narrow street of the little village. The driver hardly deigned to
stop for such common folks as these; but the grandmother waved her apron,
and then, as if jealous of a service some one else might render, she
seized one end of the canvas bag and helped the brown young man pass it
up to the top of the diligence. Jean Francois climbed up after, carrying
a little prayer-book that had been thrust into his hands--a final parting
gift of the grandmother.

The driver cracked his whip and away they went.

As the diligence passed the rectory, Father Lebrisseau came out and held
up a crucifix; the young man took off his cap and bowed his head.

The group of watchers moved out into the roadway. They strained their
eyes in the direction of the receding vehicle.

* * * * *

After a three days' ride, Jean Francois was in Paris. The early winter
night was settling down, and the air was full of fog and sleet.

The young man was sore from the long jolting. His bones ached, and the
damp and cold had hunted out every part of his sturdy frame.
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