Papillon

by Henri Charrière

He had an odd way of getting along. It was neither running nor walking, but in a series of little jumps one after another, all the same length, with his arms out as though he was rowing through the air.

I was astonished at this character’s change towards me. He had a villainous murdering face, but there were some fine things hidden far down in his heart.

Yes, Papi, this man-eater is no sort of a joke: no sort of joke at all. And the shadow of the screw on the wall has a pretty quaint effect, too. If you looked up, raising your head, it was even more discouraging: you were like a leopard in a pit, watched from above by the hunter who’d just caught it. It was a horrible feeling, and it took months before I could get used to it.

God is with you today, Papi. It is in the midst of the elements, of nature – the vastness of the ocean, the never-ending waves, the tremendous green roof of the forest – that one feels so infinitely small in comparison with everything around; and it is perhaps then that without looking for Him one finds God – lays one’s very hand upon Him.