The pathos of the chant almost made his listener shrink, so immediate and
searching was it. When the lament ceased, there was a long silence,
broken by Valmond.

"He was your brother, Parpon--how? Tell me about it."

The dwarf's eyes looked into the distance.

"It was in the far-off country," he said, "in the hills where the Little
Good Folk come. My mother married an outlaw. Ah, he was cruel, and an
animal! My brother Gabriel was born--he was a giant, his brain all
fumbling and wild. Then I was born, so small, a head as a tub, and long
arms like a gorilla. We burrowed in the hills, Gabriel and I. One day
my mother, because my father struck her, went mad, left us and came to--"
He broke off, pausing an instant. "Then Gabriel struck the man, and he
died, and we buried him, and my brother also left me, and I was alone.
By and by I travelled to Pontiac. Once Gabriel came down from the hills,
and Lajeunesse burnt him with a hot iron, for cutting his bellows in the
night, to make himself a bed inside them. To-day he came again to do
some terrible thing to the blacksmith or the girl, and you have seen--ah,
the poor Gabriel, and I killed him!"

"I killed him," said Valmond--"I, Parpon, my friend."

"My poor fool, my wild dog!" wailed the dwarf mournfully.

"Parpon," asked Valmond suddenly, "where is your mother?"

"It is no matter. She has forgotten--she is safe."