Come with me in the morning if you
like, but it will be time lost; nothing is going to happen;--but kiss
me, all the same!" After an affectionate hug, they went towards the
door, when Gillot paused a moment: "We must look after you a little,
you know," said he, "we feel as if you were a sort of father to us."
"So I am," said Clerambault with his beaming smile; his own boy was in
his mind. He closed the door, and stood for some minutes with the lamp
in his hand in the vestibule before he realised where he was. It was
nearly midnight and he was very tired, but, instead of going into
the bedroom, he mechanically turned again towards his study;--the
apartment, the house, the street were all asleep. Almost without
seeing it, he stared vaguely at the light shining on the frame of an
engraving of Rembrandt's, The Resurrection of Lazarus, which hung on
the opposite wall.... A dear figure seemed to enter the room; ... it
came in silently, and stood beside him.
"Are you satisfied now?" he thought. "Is this what you wished?" And
Maxime answered: "Yes," then added with meaning:
"I have found it very hard to teach you, Papa."
"Yes," said Clerambault, "there is much that we can learn from our
sons." And they smiled at each other in the silence.
When Clerambault at last went to bed, his wife was sound asleep.
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