Vincent Tilbak should have noticed that, instead of sharing his animadversion, Laurent was scrutinizing the young runners with unseasonable kindness.
One day he let his mentor hear of the affinity that he had discovered between these nasty little fellows and himself.
At this confidence the face of Vincent Tilbak expressed such pitiful consternation that the madcap hastened to disavow his misplaced sympathies, and declared, not without blushing, that he had simply wanted to joke. Perverted and obstinate instincts smouldered within him. From them arose, without his being able to explain them, the muffled desires, the enervating pangs, the painful curiosity, and the jealous and pitiable heartaches, at once timorous and tender, that used to torment him before the wild Stone Mill, the haunt, but also the asylum, of asymmetrical souls.
The hard-working and salubrious life that he led with honest and upright fellows like Jean Vingerhout, the friendship of Vincent and Siska, but even more greatly, the gentle influence of Henriette, should have deferred the hatching of these morbid germs. Laurent had become an habitual guest at the Tilbaks for meals. A fraternal confidence grew up immediately between himself and Henriette. Never before had he felt so greatly, the gentle influence of Henriette, should have charmed opposite a person of the other sex. He seemed to have known her for a long time. It was just as if they had grown up together. In the evening Laurent helped the children, Pierket and Lusse, to write their exercises and learn their lessons. The elder sister, tending to her housekeeping, coming and going through the room, used to admire the young fellow's knowl-
