So Jean Baptiste, on the evening after the great fire, when the benumbing effect of the calamity was over and he had come to realize the full magnitude of the disaster, betook himself to the forest retreat of Michel Gamache. Michel, who was sitting on the doorstep, heard Jean coming along the winding path, and rose to meet him as he came out into the open. "Good evening, Jean," he said, "I was expecting you." "Yes," said Jean, "I would come to you, of course." "Of course," said Michel, nodding his head. "You are in trouble." "Do you not know, Monsieur Gamache, that my house is gone, burned to the ground? You have been away, then." "Yes, I have been away for some time, at Lac Desir, up there. I was arranging my camp for the winter. There will be good trapping this season, better than ever. Oh, the prospects are good, excellent. Come with me, Jean; we shall both become quite rich. A single skin of the silver fox, as you know, may be worth a thousand dollars, or more. There will be caribou without limit, and moose; not to mention hares and grouse, so that we shall not lack for food. With a few bags of flour and some sides of bacon we shall live like lords, better than the guests of the Hotel St. Louis, I assure you. And oh, the freedom, the glory of that life, far from the world, near to Nature and to God! It would be a good place for you, Jean, for a time--a retreat, you know. At times people need that, my son, for the soul’s rest. But your house is gone, you say? Well, that was to be expected." "Expected?" "Assuredly, my son. Did I not warn you? No? Well, it could not have been prevented. Pamphile Lareau is here, is he not?" "Pamphile? Do you know, Monsieur Gamache, that he saved my life at the risk of his own?" "Yes, I know. Which proves, does it not, that he started the fire?" "Started the fire? Impossible! It was the lightning."