"Here is your son, is it not so? He is like you"--and laying his hand on Jean's head, who clung to his father's coat-tails in wonder at the red waistcoat and the sing-song voice, he asked if the child learned his lessons well, if he was growing up to be a clever man, if he would not soon be beginning Latin. "That noble language," he added, "whose inimitable monuments have often made me forget my misfortunes. "Yes, sir, I have often breakfasted on a page of Tacitus and supped on a satire of Juvenal." As he said the words, a look of sadness over-spread his shining red face, and dropping his voice: "Forgive me, sir, if I hold out to you the casque of Belisarius. I am the Marquis Tudesco, of Venice. When I have received from the bookseller the price of my labour, I will not forget that you succoured me with a small coin in the time of my sharpest trial." The bookbinder, case-hardened as he was against beggars, who on winter evenings drifted into his shop with the east wind, nevertheless experienced a certain sympathy and respect for the Marquis Tudesco. He slipped a franc-piece into his hand. Thereupon the old Italian, like a man inspired, exclaimed: "One Nation there is that is unhappy--Italy, one generous People--France; and one bond that unites the twain--humanity. Ah! chiefest of the virtues, humanity, humanity!" Meantime the bookbinder was pondering his wife's last words: "I wish my Jean to learn Latin." He hesitated, till seeing Monsieur Tudesco bowing and smiling to go: "Sir," he said, "if you are ready, two or three times a week, to give the boy lessons in French and Latin, we might come to terms." The Marquis Tudesco expressed no surprise. He smiled and said: "Certainly, sir, as you wish it, I shall find it a delightful task to initiate your son in the mysteries of the Latin rudiments. "We will make a man of him and a good citizen, and God knows what heights my pupil will scale in this noble land of freedom and generosity. He may one day be ambassador, my dear sir. I say it: knowledge is power." "You will know the shop again," said the bookbinder; "there is my name on the signboard." The Marquis Tudesco, after tweaking the son's ear amicably and bowing to the father with a dignified familiarity, walked away with a step that was still jaunty. IV The Marquis Tudesco returned in due course, smiled at Mademoiselle Servien, who darted poisonous looks at him, greeted the bookbinder with a discreet air of patronage, and had a supply of grammars and dictionaries bought.