his past crimes), deprived of all communication with the exterior world, his ideas often assumed a sort of reality, as he had told La Chouette; then passed before him sometimes the features of his victims; but this was not madness--it was the power of memory carried to its greatest extent. Thus this man, still in the prime of life, of a vigorous constitution--this man, who, without doubt, would live many long years--this man, who enjoyed all the plenitude of his reason, was to pass these long years among madmen, without ever exchanging a word with a human being. Otherwise, if he were discovered, he would be led to the scaffold for his new murders, or he would be condemned to a perpetual imprisonment among scoundrels, for whom he felt a horror which was augmented by his repentance. The Schoolmaster was seated on a bench; a forest of grayish hair covered his hideous and enormous head; with his elbows on his knees, he supported his chin on his hand. Although this frightful man was deprived of sight, two holes replaced his nose, and his mouth was deformed, yet a withering, incurable despair was still manifest on his horrid visage. A lunatic of a sad, benevolent, and juvenile appearance kneeled before the Schoolmaster, held his large hands in his own, looked at him with kindness, and, with a sweet voice, constantly repeated, "Strawberries! strawberries! strawberries!" "See now," said the learned madman, gravely, "the sole conversation which this idiot can hold with the blind man. Yes, with him, the eyes of the body closed, those of the mind are without doubt opened, and he will be pleased if I enter into communication with him." "I do not doubt it," said the doctor; while the poor lunatic with the melancholy face regarded the abominable face of the Schoolmaster with compassion, and repeated, in his soft voice, "Strawberries! strawberries! strawberries!" "Since his entrance here, this poor idiot has uttered no other words than these," said the doctor to Madame George, who looked at the Schoolmaster with horror; "what mysterious events are connected with these words, I cannot penetrate." "Mother," said Germain to Madame George, "how much this poor blind man seems depressed!" "It is true, my child," answered Madame George: "in spite of myself my heart is oppressed! the sight of him sickens me. Oh! how sad it is to see humanity under this dreadful aspect." Hardly had Madame George pronounced these words, than the Schoolmaster started; his scarred face became pale under its cicatrices; he arose, and turned his head so quickly toward the mother of Germain, that she could not refrain from a cry of horror, although she did not know who he was. The Schoolmaster had recognized the voice of his wife, and the words of Madame George told him that she had spoken to his son! "What is the matter, mother?" cried Germain.