than that, you want to be dressed like them, 
and do and say the same things and speak 
with the same voice . . .” 
One of the four children, who for some sec-
onds past was no longer listening to his talk, 
but with a startling fixity had fastened his gaze 
upon I knew not what point of heaven, said 
suddenly, “Look, look there; do you see Him? 
He is sitting on that little lonely cloud, that lit-
tle fire-coloured cloud that moves so softly, 
and He too—one would say that He was look-
ing at us.” 
“But who then?” asked the others. 
“God,” he replied, with an accent of perfect 
conviction. “Ah, He is already very far away—in 
a moment you will not be able to see Him any 
more; I think He must be travelling, to visit 
every country.—There, there! He is going to 
pass behind that row of trees that is almost on 
the horizon; and now He is going down behind 
the steeple. Ah, I cannot see Him any more.” 
And the child remained for long turned in the 
same direction, fixing upon the line which cuts 
earth from heaven a pair of eyes which shone 
with an inexpressive expression of ecstasy and 
of regret. 
“Silly baby, with His God that nobody but he 
can see,” then said the third, all of whose little 
personality was marked by a strange vivacity