"Here it is," said Barberin, handing him a blue cotton handkerchief tied up at the four corners. "There are two shirts and a pair of cotton pants." "That was not what was agreed; you said you'd give some clothes. These are only rags." "He ain't got no more." "If I ask the boy I know he'll say that's not true. But I haven't the time to argue the matter. We must be off. Come on, my little fellow. What's your name?" "Remi." "Well, then, Remi, take your bundle and walk along beside Capi." I held out both my hands to him, then to Barberin. But both men turned away their heads. Then Vitalis took me by the wrist. I had to go. Ah, our poor little house! It seemed to me when I passed over the threshold that I left a bit of my body there. With my eyes full of tears I looked around, but there was no one near to help me. No one on the road, and no one in the field close by. I began to call: "Mamma ... Mother Barberin!" But no one replied to my call, and my voice trailed off into a sob. I had to follow Vitalis, who had not let go of my wrist. "Good-by and good luck," cried Barberin. Then he entered the house. It was over. "Come, Remi, hurry along, my child," said Vitalis. He took hold of my arm and I walked side by side with him. Fortunately he did not walk fast. I think he suited his step to mine. We were walking up hill. As I turned I could still see Mother Barberin's house, but it was getting smaller and smaller. Many a time I had walked this road and I knew that for a little while longer I should still see the house, then when we turned the bend, I should see it no more. Before me the unknown, behind me was the house, where until that day I had lived such a happy life. Perhaps I should never see it again! Fortunately the hill was long, but at last we reached the top. Vitalis had not let go his hold. "Will you let me rest a bit?" I asked. "Surely, my boy," he replied.