"I do not know"--he hesitated--"I am not sure. He must have felt--but no one ever saw him. He could not stop. There was not a moment when, if he had halted--even to pity--all the great Thing he was building would not have fallen about his ears--and carried all France down with it. No, he could not stop. If he had been of those who falter"--here Schotz shrugged his shoulders with the gesture of the Frenchmen he had fought among--"Buonaparte should not have played the game of war." The tall man winced. He looked for a moment as if the cabinet-maker had taunted him--knowing. Then he straightened his shoulders. His face hardened into lines of steadfastness and determination. Taking up his parcel-- "Thank you," he said, with a deeper intonation than one would have expected in return for so slight a deed--"thank you," he said to Joseph Schotz, and wrung his hand with a grasp that hurt. Then he hurried out. When they had watched the great figure out of sight-- "Who is he--that tall man? Do you know, my wife?" asked Joseph Schotz, in their own tongue. "Some American," replied his wife, with democratic unconcern. Then when her husband continued to gaze earnestly at the door from which their guest had departed, "A sad-looking man, I think." "Yes, he is one that carries with him the sorrows of the world. When he came into the world he had already known what it was to sorrow. Men like that must learn to laugh or they cannot live." "What does it matter?" she said, rallying him. "He is not thy Napoleon." "No, he is not Napoleon," replied the man, quickly, looking down at his hand, still red from the pressure of the bony fingers. "No--Napoleon never played--with toys." * * * * * Joseph Schotz was weaker in the summer heat when the Man next came to the toy-shop. The wife was at market, so there was nobody in the place save Joseph and the little neighbor girl who was being taught to take in pennies like a woman grown. She was not an altogether profitable clerk, however, for she outdid Mrs. Schotz in giving too good measure for the pennies. But there was need for her help, and soon there would be--more. The Man entered the shop eagerly. From his remembering glance that comprehended the place to its farthest shelf one would have said that he had just left it. He was stooping and careworn, but his eyes sought the toys with expectation. And as he dwelt upon this spot which ministered to pure delight--a territory consecrated to those flowerings of grown-up fancy which the children call toys--his bent shoulders straightened and his deep eyes began to smile. For a few moments he said nothing. He was like a man who was drinking great draughts of water, a parched man, new from desert sands. At last he crossed to where Joseph waited.