On the second day he feebly expressed a desire for some one to read to him.
"What shall I read, Paul ?" asked Victor, joyously.
"You will find my Odyssey in the berthroom.

Read me of Ulysses when he finally arrived at Ithaca and found Penelope still faithful." "Monsieur," said Chaumonot, who overheard the request, "would you not rather I should read to you from the life of Loyola ?" "No, Father," gently; "I am still pagan enough to love the thunder of Homer." "If only I might convince you of the futility of such books!" earnestly.
"Nothing is futile, Father, which is made of grace and beauty." So Victor read from the immortal epic.

He possessed a fine voice, and being a musician he knew how to use it.

The voice of his friend and the warmth of the sun combined to produce a pleasant drowsiness to which the Chevalier yielded, gratefully.

That night he slept soundly.
The following day was not without a certain glory.