self slip to the ground and lay there, sobbing louder than ever, I became really alarmed, and raised him, so that I saw that one hand was wrapped in a bloody rag, that his eyebrows were singed, and his clothes torn and dusty.
"Come, my boy, what is the matter? What mischief have you been up to this time?"—I had really forgotten my disaster.
"Oh, Master!—the fire! I can't bear to tell you," said he, weeping, and when I realized that the poor child was unhappy on my account, because my house was burned down, I cannot tell you what a comfort it was to me.
"My poor boy!" said I, "don't cry any longer."
He thought that I had not understood, and told me more calmly that my workshop and my house were burned to the ground.
"That's an old story by now," said I, patting him on the back. "You are the fourth or fifth person who has told me of it. Well! it's hard luck, that's all I can say, but I never thought you cared so much about the old shop. Honor bright, now, didn't you dance around it, like the others, while it was burning?"
The way I was taking it had made him feel much better, but at this he shook off my hand indignantly. "You don't believe a word of it. Master; Cagnat
