. . What are you
going to do, m'sieu'?"
Jean Jacques slowly turned and picked up his hat. He moved with the
dignity of a hero who marches towards a wall to meet the bullets of a
firing-squad.
"You are going?" Norah whispered, and in her eyes was a great relief and
the light of victory. The golden link binding Nolan and herself was in
her arms, over her heart.
Jean Jacques did not speak a word in reply, though his lips moved. She
held out the little one to him for a good-bye, but he shook his head. If
he did that--if he once held her in his arms--he would not be able to
give her up. Gravely and solemnly, however, he stooped over and kissed
the lips of the child lying against Norah's breast. As he did so, with a
quick, mothering instinct Norah impulsively kissed his shaggy head, and
her eyes filled with tears. She smiled too, and Jean Jacques saw how
beautiful her teeth were--cruel no longer.
He moved away slowly. At the door he turned, and looked back at the
two--a long, lingering look he gave. Then he faced away from them again.
"Moi je suis philosophe," he said gently, and opened the door and stepped
out and away into the frozen world.
EPILOGUE
Change might lay its hand on the parish of St. Saviour's, and it did so
on the beautiful sentient living thing, as on the thing material and
man-made; but there was no change in the sheltering friendship of Mont
Violet or the flow of the illustrious Beau Cheval.
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