then he said in a whisper of sheer and unspeakable wonderment, leaning a little toward us without in any way suggesting that the question might have an affirmative answer,
"pour moi, monsieur?"
We smiled at him and said "Prenez, monsieur." His eyes opened. I have never seen eyes since. He remarked quietly, extending one hand with majestic delicacy:
"Merci, monsieur."
... Before he left, B. gave him some socks and I presented him with a flannel shirt, which he took softly and slowly and simply and otherwise not as an American would take a million dollars.
"I will not forget you," he said to us, as if in his own country he were a more than very great king ... and I think I know where that country is, I think I know this; I, who never knew Surplice, know.
For he has the territory of harmonicas, the acres of flutes, the meadows of clarinets, the domain of violins. And God says: Why did they put you in prison? What did you do to the people? "I made them dance and they put me in prison. The soot-people hopped; and to twinkle like sparks on a chimney-back and I made eighty francs every dimanche, and beer and wine, and to eat well. Maintenant ... c'est fini ... Et tout suite (gesture of cutting himself in two) la tête." And He says: "O you who put the jerk into joys, come up hither. There's a man up here called Christ who likes the violin."
