The evening had that serenity which overwhelms the troubles of man beneath an indescribably mournful and eternal joy. The night promised to be as arid as the day had been.

“Stars everywhere!” thought the old man; “not the tiniest cloud! Not a drop of water!”

And his head, which had been upraised for a moment, fell back upon his breast.

He raised it again, and once more looked at the sky, murmuring:⁠—

“A tear of dew! A little pity!”

He tried again to unhook the chain of the well, and could not.

At that moment, he heard a voice saying:⁠—

“Father Mabeuf, would you like to have me water your garden for you?”