"More than Virginie came round," he replied almost oracularly. "Who,
think you, brought him the news that coal was found on his acres--who but
the husband of Virginie's sister! Then came Virginie. On the day Jean
Jacques saw her again, he said to her, 'What you would have given me at
such cost, now let me pay for with the rest of my life. It is the great
thought which was in your heart that I will pay for with the days left to
me.'"

A flickering smile brightened the sensitive ascetic face, and humour was
in the eyes. "What do you think Virginie said to that? Her sister told
me. Virginie said to that, 'You will have more days left, Jean Jacques,
if you have a better cook. What do you like best for supper?' And Jean
Jacques laughed much at that. Years ago he would have made a speech at
it!"

"Then he is no more a philosopher?"

"Oh always, always, but in his heart, and not with his tongue. I cried,
and so did he, when we met and when we parted. I think I am getting old,
for indeed I could not help it: yet there was peace in his eyes--peace."

"His eyes used to rustle so."

"Rustle--that is the word. Now, that is what, he has learned in life--
the way to peace. When I left him, it was with Virginie close beside
him, and when I said to him, 'Will you come back to us one day, Jean
Jacques?' he said, 'But no, Fille, my friend; it is too far. I see it--
it is a million miles away--too great a journey to go with the feet, but
with the soul I will visit it. The soul is a great traveller. I see it
always--the clouds and the burnings and the pitfalls gone--out of sight--