And, besides, the sole mentor of these little unfortunates, their brother Martial, was not himself irreproachable, as we have said: incapable of committing a theft or murder, he did not the less lead an irregular and wandering life. They refused to commit certain bad actions, not from honesty, but to obey Martial, whom they tenderly loved, and to disobey their mother, whom they feared and hated. It is hard to say how much the perceptions of morality with these children were doubtful, vacillating, precarious; with Francois particularly, arrived at that dangerous period where the mind, hesitating, undecided between good and evil, perhaps in one moment may be lost or saved. "How this red becomes you, sister!" said Francois. "How pretty it is! When we go and play on the shore in front of the plaster-kilns, you must dress yourself so, to make the children wild, who are always throwing stones at us and calling us little _guillotines._ I'll put on my fine red cravat, and we will tell them, 'Never mind, you haven't such handsome handkerchiefs as these.'" "But I say, Francois," said Amandine, after a pause, "if they knew that they were stolen, they would call us little thieves." "Who cares if they do?" "When it is not true, it's all the same; but now--" "Since Nicholas has given us these, we have not stolen them." "Yes, but he did; he took them from a boat; and brother Martial says we must not steal." "But since Nicholas has stolen them, it is none of our business." "You think so, Francois?" "Yes, I do." "Yet it seems to me that I should have preferred that the person to whom they belonged should have given them to us. Don't you think so, Francois?" "Oh, it's all the same to me. They have been given to us, and that's enough." "You are very sure?" "Why, yes, yes; do be quiet." "Then, so much the better; we have not done what brother Martial forbids, and we have fine handkerchiefs." "I say, Amandine, if he knew that the other day Calabash made you take that handkerchief from the peddler's pack, when his back was turned!" "Oh, Francois, do not speak of that!" said the poor child, whose eyes were filled with tears: "brother Martial would love me no more. He would leave us all alone here." "Don't be afraid, I will not tell him," he said, laughing. "Oh, don't laugh at that. Francois; I am sorry enough; but I had to do it. Sister pinched me till the blood came, and then she looked at me so--so! and yet twice my heart failed me; I thought I could never do it. Finally, the peddler saw nothing, and sister kept the kerchief. If he had seen me, Francois, they would have put me in prison." "They did not see you; it is just the same as if you had not stolen." "You think so?" "Of course!" "And in prison, how unhappy one must be!" "On the contrary." "How, Francois, on the contrary?" "Look here! you know the big lame man who lives at Paris with Pere Micou; the man who sells for Nicholas; who keeps furnished lodgings, Passage de la Brasserie?"