Indeed, with his dark eyes and strongly marked features, wrapped in a contemplative calm such as the study of the stars engenders, in that gloom he did look something like an owl, however different may have been his appearance on other occasions.
"What are you thinking of, Monsieur Godfrey ?" she asked.
He came back to earth with a start.
"The stars and Man," he answered, colouring.
"_Mon Dieu!_" she exclaimed, "I think man is enough to study without the stars, which we shall never visit." "How do you know that, Mademoiselle ?" "I know it because we are here and they are there, far, far away.

Also we die and they go on for ever." "What is space, and what are death and time ?" queried Godfrey, with solemnity.
"_Mon Dieu!_" said Juliette again.

"Come to dinner, the chicken it grows cold," but to herself she added, "He is an odd bird, this English _hibou_, but attractive--when he is not so grave." Meanwhile Godfrey continued to ponder his mighty problem.

When he had mastered enough French in which Madame and Juliette proved efficient instructors, he propounded it to the old Pasteur, who clapped his hand upon a Bible, and said: "_There_ is the answer, young friend." "I know," replied Godfrey, "but it does not quite satisfy; I feel that I must find that answer for myself." Monsieur Boiset removed his blue spectacles and looked at him.
"Such searches are dangerous," he said.

"Believe me, Godfrey, it is better to accept." "Then why do you find fault with the Roman Catholics, Monsieur ?" The question was like a match applied to a haystack.