for, from that formula might come strength, when it was most needed,
in a sense other and deeper far than it had been or was now. "You will
remember that you will always know where to find us--eh?" added the
little Clerk of the Court.

The going of Jean Jacques was inevitable; all persuasion had failed to
induce him to stay--even that of Virginie; and M. Fille now treated it
as though it was the beginning of a new career for Jean Jacques, whatever
that career might be. It might be he would come back some day, but not
to things as they were, not ever again, nor as the same man.

"You will move on with the world outside there," continued M. Fille,
"but we shall be turning on the same swivel here always; and whenever you
come--there, you understand. With us it is semper fidelis, always the
same."

Jean Jacques looked at M. Fille again as though to ask him a question,
but presently he shook his head in negation to his thought.

"Well, good-bye," he said cheerfully--"A la bonne heure!"

By that M. Fille knew that Jean Jacques did not wish for company as he
went--not even the company of his old friend who had loved the bright
whimsical emotional Zoe; who had hovered around his life like a
protecting spirit.

"A bi'tot," responded M. Fille, declining upon the homely patois.

But as Jean Jacques walked away with his little book of philosophy in his
pocket, and the bird-cage in his hand, someone sobbed. M. Fille turned