To Godfrey， who had， it will be remembered， a strong liking for astronomy， it was a source of constant delight. What is more， it provided a link of common interest that soon ripened into friendship between himself and his odd old tutor， who had been obliged hitherto to pursue his astral researches in solitude， since to Madame and to Juliette these did not appeal. Night by night， especially after the winter snows began to fall， they would sit by the stove in the little observatory， gazing at the stars， making calculations， in which， notwithstanding his dislike of mathematics， Godfrey soon became expert， and setting down the results of what they learned.
In was in course of these studies that the whole wonder of the universe came home to him for the first time. He looked upon the marvel of the heavens， the mighty procession of the planets， the rising and setting of the vast suns that burn beyond them in the depths of space， weighing their bulk and measuring their differences， and trembled with mingled joy and awe. Were these the heritage of man？
Would he ever visit them in some unknown state and age？ Or must they remain eternally far and alien？ This is what he longed to learn， and to him astronomy was a gateway to knowledge， if only he could discover how to pass the gate.
Godfrey had not the true scientific spirit， or a yearning for information， even about the stars， for its own sake. He wanted to ascertain how these affected /him/ and the human race of which he was a member. In short， he sought an answer to the old question： Are we merely the spawn of our little earth， destined to perish， as the earth itself must do one day， or， through whatever changes we must pass， are we as immortal as the universe and the Might that made it， whatever that may be？ That was his problem， the same which perplexes every high and thinking soul， and at this impressionable period of his life it scarcely ever left him. There he would sit with brooding eyes and bent brow seeking the answer， but as yet finding none.
Once Juliette discovered him thus， having come to the observatory to tell him that his dinner had been waiting for half an hour， and for a while watched him unnoted with the little shaded lamp shining on his face. Instantly， in her quick fashion， she christened him， /Hibou/， and /Hibou/ or Owl， became his nickname in that establishment. 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. At once the Pasteur took fire：
"Because they accept error， not truth，" he began. "What foundation have they for much of their belief？ It is not here，" and again he slapped the Bible.
Then followed a long tirade， for the one thing this good and tolerant old man could not endure was the Roman Catholic branch of the Christian Faith.
Godfrey listened with patience， till at last the Pasteur， having burnt himself out， asked him if he were not convinced.
"I do not know，" he replied. "These quarrels of the Churches and of the different faiths puzzle and tire me. I， too， Monsieur， believe in God and a future life， but I do not think it matters much by what road one travels to them， I mean so long as it is a road."
The Pasteur looked at him alarmed， and exclaimed：
"Surely you will not be a fish caught in the net which already I have observed that cunning and plausible curé trying to throw about you！
Oh！ what then should I answer to your father？"
"Do not be frightened， Monsieur. I shall never become a Roman Catholic. But all the same I think the Roman Catholics very good people， and that their faith is as well as another， at any rate for those who believe it."
Then he made an excuse to slip away， leaving the Pasteur puzzled.
"He is wrong，" he said to himself， "most wrong， but all the same， let it be admitted that the boy has a big mind， and intelligent--yes， intelligent."
It is certain that those who search with sufficient earnestness end in finding something， though the discovered path may run in the wrong direction， or prove impassable， or wind through caverns， or along the edge of precipices， down which sooner or later the traveller falls， or lead at length to some /cul-de-sac/. The axiom was not varied in Godfrey's case， and the path he found was named--Miss Ogilvy.
