"It might not be wholesome to inquire too deeply into a case of the
kind. We will remain on the surface. Laugh away, my boy!"

Just then the little girl awoke. Her good-day was a cry.

"Come, nurse, give her the breast," said Ursus.

The infant sat up. Ursus taking the phial from the stove gave it to her
to suck.

Then the sun arose. He was level with the horizon. His red rays gleamed
through the glass, and struck against the face of the infant, which was
turned towards him. Her eyeballs, fixed on the sun, reflected his purple
orbit like two mirrors. The eyeballs were immovable, the eyelids also.

"See!" said Ursus. "She is blind."




PART II.




BOOK THE FIRST.

_THE EVERLASTING PRESENCE OF THE
PAST: MAN REFLECTS MAN_.