him motionless gazing at Veronique asleep on her mother's knees. He
softened his harsh voice when he spoke to her, and wiped his hands on
his trousers before taking her up. When Veronique tried to walk, the
father bent his legs and stood at a little distance holding out his
arms and making little grimaces which contrasted funnily with the
rigid furrows of his stern, hard face. The man of iron, brass, and
lead became a being of flesh and blood and bones. If he happened to be
standing with his back against the corner pillar motionless, a cry
from Veronique would agitate him and send him flying over the mounds
of iron fragments to find her; for she spent her childhood playing
with the wreck of ancient castles heaped in the depths of that old
shop. There were other days on which she went to play in the street or
with the neighboring children; but even then her mother's eye was
always on her.

It is not unimportant to say here that the Sauviats were eminently
religious. At the very height of the Revolution they observed both
Sunday and fete-days. Twice Sauviat came near having his head cut off
for hearing mass from an unsworn priest. He was put in prison, being
justly accused of helping a bishop, whose life he saved, to fly the
country. Fortunately the old-iron dealer, who knew the ways of bolts
and bars, was able to escape; nevertheless he was condemned to death
by default, and as, by the bye, he never purged himself of that
contempt, he may be said to have died dead.

His wife shared his piety. The avariciousness of the household yielded
to the demands of religion. The old-iron dealers gave their alms
punctually at the sacrament and to all the collections in church. When
the vicar of Saint-Etienne called to ask help for his poor, Sauviat or
his wife fetched at once without reluctance or sour faces the sum they