the stars, which we shall never visit."

"How do you know that, Mademoiselle?"

"I know it because we are here and they are there, far, far away. Also
we die and they go on for ever."

"What is space, and what are death and time?" queried Godfrey, with
solemnity.

"/Mon Dieu!/" said Juliette again. "Come to dinner, the chicken it
grows cold," but to herself she added, "He is an odd bird, this
English /hibou/, but attractive--when he is not so grave."

Meanwhile Godfrey continued to ponder his mighty problem. When he had
mastered enough French in which Madame and Juliette proved efficient
instructors, he propounded it to the old Pasteur, who clapped his hand
upon a Bible, and said:

"/There/ is the answer, young friend."

"I know," replied Godfrey, "but it does not quite satisfy; I feel that
I must find that answer for myself."

Monsieur Boiset removed his blue spectacles and looked at him.

"Such searches are dangerous," he said. "Believe me, Godfrey, it is
better to accept."

"Then why do you find fault with the Roman Catholics, Monsieur?"