I, for one, shall never believe in it." And when at last he was able to use his legs, he retained a secret grudge against work.

It was a handicraft full of misfortunes to pass one's days, like the cats, on the roofs of the houses.

The employers were no fools! They sent you to your death--being far too cowardly to venture themselves on a ladder--and stopped at home in safety at their fire-sides without caring a hang for the poorer classes; and he got to the point of saying that everyone ought to fix the zinc himself on his own house.

_Mon Dieu_! It was the only fair way to do it! If you don't want the rain to come in, do the work yourself.

He regretted he hadn't learned another trade, something more pleasant, something less dangerous, maybe cabinetmaking.