"Did you ever know, my Solon," he said, "that it was not Jean Jacques who
saved Carmen at the wreck of the Antoine, but it was she who saved him;
and yet she never breathed of it in all the years. One who was saved from
the Antoine told me of it. Jean Jacques was going down. Carmen gave him
her piece of wreckage to hang on to, and swam ashore without help. He
never gave her the credit. There was something big in the woman, but it
did not come out right."
M. Fille threw up his hands. "Grace de Dieu, is it so that she saved Jean
Jacques? Then he would not be here if it had not been for her?"
"That is the obvious deduction, Maitre Fille," replied the Judge.
The Clerk of the Court seemed moved. "He did not treat her ill. I know
that he would take her back to-morrow if he could. He has never
forgotten. I saw him weeping one day--it was where she used to sing to
the flax-beaters by the Beau Cheval. I put my hand on his shoulder, and
said, 'I know, I comprehend; but be a philosopher, Jean Jacques.'"
"What did he say?" asked the Judge.
"He drew himself up. 'In my mind, in my soul, I am philosopher always,'
he said, 'but my eyes are the windows of my heart, m'sieu'. They look out
and see the sorrow of one I loved. It is for her sorrow that I weep, not
for my own. I have my child, I have money; the world says to me, "How
goes it, my friend?" I have a home--a home; but where is she, and what
does the world say to her?'"
The Judge shook his head sadly.
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