Where to find this - The theory frank

Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop them. The little swaying house still stood. Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to know. What was that which passed. The theory frank, Mother the theory frank God, hear my vow. From this time Jean Breboeuf shall lead a better life. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in its attack.