These words gave me courage. I had always longed for a pair of shoes. The mayor's son and the inn-keeper's son wore shoes, so that on Sunday when they came to church they seemed to slide down the stone aisles, while we other country boys in our clogs made a deafening noise. "Is Ussel far?" "Ah, that comes from your heart," said Vitalis, laughing. "So you want to have a pair of shoes, do you? Well, I'll promise you them and with big nails, too. And I'll buy you some velvet pants, and a vest and a hat. That'll make you dry your tears, I hope, and give you legs to do the next six miles." Shoes with nails! I was overcome with pride. It was grand enough to have shoes, but shoes with nails! I forgot my grief. Shoes with nails! Velvet pants! a vest! a hat! Oh, if Mother Barberin could see me, how happy she would be, how proud of me! But in spite of the promise that I should have shoes and velvet pants at the end of the six miles, it seemed impossible that I could cover the distance. The sky, which had been blue when we started, was now filled with gray clouds and soon a fine rain commenced to fall. Vitalis was covered well enough with his sheepskin and he was able to shelter Pretty-Heart, who, at the first drop of rain, had promptly retired into his hiding place. But the dogs and I had nothing to cover us, and soon we were drenched to the skin. The dogs from time to time could shake themselves, but I was unable to employ this natural means, and I had to tramp along under my water-soaked, heavy garments, which chilled me. "Do you catch cold easily?" asked my new master. "I don't know. I don't remember ever having a cold." "That's good. So there is something in you. But I don't want to have it worse for you than we are obliged. There is a village a little farther on and we'll sleep there." There was no inn in this village and no one wanted to take into their homes an old beggar who dragged along with him a child and three dogs, soaked to the skin. "No lodgings here," they said. And they shut the door in our faces. We went from one house to another, but all refused to admit us. Must we tramp those four miles on to Ussel without resting a bit? The night had fallen and the rain had chilled us through and through. Oh, for Mother Barberin's house! Finally a peasant, more charitable than his neighbors, agreed to let us go into his barn. But he made the condition that we could sleep there, but must have no light. "Give me your matches," he said to Vitalis. "I'll give you them back to-morrow, when you go." At least we had a roof to cover us from the storm. In the sack which Vitalis had slung over his back he took out a hunch of bread and broke it into four pieces. Then I saw for the first time how he maintained obedience and discipline in his company. Whilst we had gone from door to door seeking shelter, Zerbino had gone into a house and he had run out again almost at once, carrying in his jaws a crust. Vitalis had only said: