But when Jean thought of Father Paradis, all his doubts seemed to dissolve like the mist of the valley in the light and warmth of the rising sun. There was a good man, a noble character. What piety, what amiability, what wisdom! How useful to the parish, to the world, a priest like this! To be like Father Paradis--that were an ambition worthy of any man, sufficient, surely, for a mere boy like himself. Thus was Jean Baptiste, like thistle-down, blown about by every breeze, now rising, now falling, now suspended in mid-air, able neither to rise to the heavens nor to sink to rest on solid ground. It was a most unsatisfactory condition, and Jean found no peace for his soul. The decision that finally came to him is a curious example of the trifles that frequently determine the course of human life. One afternoon, on his way home from school, where Mademoiselle Angers had been giving him advanced lessons in preparation for college, Jean was crossing the bridge of logs over the mountain torrent called La Branche, when he saw a little girl seated on the end of one of the logs, her feet dangling over the stream. "Holloa, there, little red-head!" he called. "You will fall in the river if you don’t take care. It is dangerous." The "little red-head" made no reply, but gazed on the stream as though fascinated by the swirling water. "Gabrielle, my little one," persisted Jean, "come away from that place. Are you not afraid of being drowned?" "You know, Jean, you know very well that my hair is not red," said Gabrielle, looking up with a smile of mischief. "Maybe not, Gabrielle. It is yellow, if you like, though it changes often. But come away at once. You frighten me." "And I am not a ’little one’ either, for I shall be ten years old to-morrow." "True, Gabrielle, you are a young lady, almost. But do not fall in there, for the love of God." "You are very strong and brave, Jean," said the little imp. "It may be so, Gabrielle, but what of that?" "You would save me if I fell in the river, would you not?" "Gabrielle, you would not be so silly." "Oh, I don’t know. See me! One--two--three--away!" And Gabrielle was on the point of jumping into the stream, when Jean caught her, just in time. "Little fool!" he said, pulling her up somewhat roughly and placing her in safety in the middle of the bridge. "Don’t you know that it is dangerous, that place? See the deep pool and the big stones down there. It is not at all certain that I could have saved you. Never do that again. There now, don’t cry. Run home to your mother, little one." "You are rough, Jean, and cruel. Great beast! Leave me alone. I hate you." And Gabrielle turned away, weeping and sobbing. "But, Gabrielle, what is the matter? What have I done? Poor little Gabrielle, do not cry. I am indeed a beast. Do not cry, Gabrielle." But Gabrielle continued to cry, while Jean tried to console her in his stupid way. Finally she said, between her sobs: