I uttered a cry of joy; and rushing into my little workshop, I hugged severally to my bosom my hammers, my planes, and my chisels. Then, strong with a new strength, I felt irresistibly impelled to rush off at once, and thank M. Jean Baptiste Drouet for lending me the precious book. St. Menehould was exactly three miles away, and it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. I could easily be home again by five or six, and my good uncle would not make himself uneasy at my absence. Besides, I was quite sure that he would approve of my errand. CHAPTER III. A STRANGER OF INFLUENCE TURNS UP. Out I set at once, taking my book with me, to read on the way; and so interesting did I find the adventures of “Emile,” that I found myself near my friend’s house actually without being aware of it. In the distance I could see M. Jean Baptiste superintending some postilions, who were putting fresh horses to a carriage. He was standing on the threshold of his door. Running up in a state of great excitement, I cried out, “Monsieur Jean Baptiste, it’s I!” “Well,” he said, laughing; “I am quite aware of the fact. What do you want, my boy?” “What do I want? Oh, I want to thank you, and to tell you that I will never be a keeper. The only calling worth following is that of a carpenter, and I mean to be one, Monsieur Drouet.” The carriage went off. “So you have been reading ‘Emile?’” he asked, taking me inside. “Yes; up to here.” And I showed him page 160 of the work. “Bravo!” said Monsieur Drouet. “But it is not enough to read; you must also understand.” “Of course, M. Jean Baptiste,” said I. “There are many things that I cannot understand, but I always look to you for an explanation.” “So you are come expressly for that?” “No, M. Jean Baptiste. Not expressly for that, but to thank you for your kindness. After my father, who gave me life—after my aunt and my uncle, who have fed me, I owe more to you than to any other person in the world; for has not Rousseau himself said that every man is born twice—first, physically, then intellectually? And it is you who have successfully brought me through this second birth.” I must pass over that afternoon of familiar intercourse with my mentor and my friend. Suffice it to say, that my new-born resolutions were strengthened, my eyes still more widely opened to my own wants and requirements; and when I set out on my return, I felt that, indeed, a path had been tracked for me across the yet untrodden wilderness of life. There are few landscapes so pretty in the middle of France as that which presents itself to the eye on arriving at the Forest of Argonne. This struck me as it had never done before, and I paused involuntarily to gaze at the scene. At this moment two travellers came towards me, followed by a carriage slowly toiling up the ascent.