She was happy, very happy, always taken up with her adopted child. She
bought books for him to improve his mind, and he devoted himself
ardently to reading.

He no longer now climbed on her knees to fondle her as he had formerly
done; but instead would go and sit down in his little chair in the
chimney-corner and open a volume. The lamp placed at the edge of the
little table, above his head, shone on his curly hair and on a portion
of his forehead; he did not move, he did not raise his eyes, he did not
make any gesture. He read on, interested, entirely absorbed in the
adventures which formed the subject of the book.

She, seated opposite to him, gazed at him with an eager, steady look,
astonished at his studiousness, jealous, often on the point of bursting
into tears.

She said to him now and then: "You will fatigue yourself, my treasure!"
in the hope that he would raise his head and come across to embrace her;
but he did not even answer her; he had not heard or understood what she
was saying; he paid no attention to anything save what he read in these
pages.

For two years he devoured an incalculable number of volumes. His
character changed.

After this, he asked Mademoiselle Source many times for money, which she
gave him. As he always wanted more, she ended by refusing, for she was
both regular and energetic and knew how to act rationally when it was
necessary to do so. By dint of entreaties he obtained a large sum one