"Henri Rouget, idiot; as young as the morning.

For man grows old only by what he suffers, and what he forgives, and what he sins.

What have you to say for Henri Rouget, my Francois ?" And Francois read: "I was a fool; nothing had I to know Of men, and naught to men had I to give.
God gave me nothing; now to God I go, Now ask for pain, for bread, Life for my brain: dead, By God's love I shall then begin to live." The priest rose to his feet and put a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Do you know, Francois," he said, half sadly, "do you know, you have the true thing in you.

Come often to me, my son, and bring all these things--all you write." While the Cure troubled himself about his future, Francois began to work upon a monument for the grave of a dozen soldiers of Pontiac who were killed in the War of the Patriots.

They had died for a mistaken cause, and had been buried on the field of battle.