of maidens, wearing white wreaths over their lowered veils, formed a
snow-white field, and she recognised her darling by the slenderness of
her neck and her devout attitude. The bell tinkled. All the heads bent
and there was a silence. Then, at the peals of the organ the singers
and the worshippers struck up the Agnes Dei; the boys' procession began;
behind them came the girls. With clasped hands, they advanced step by
step to the lighted altar, knelt at the first step, received one by one
the Host, and returned to their seats in the same order. When Virginia's
turn came, Felicite leaned forward to watch her, and through that
imagination which springs from true affection, she at once became the
child, whose face and dress became hers, whose heart beat in her bosom,
and when Virginia opened her mouth and closed her lids, she did likewise
and came very near fainting.

The following day, she presented herself early at the church so as to
receive communion from the cure. She took it with the proper feeling,
but did not experience the same delight as on the previous day.

Madame Aubain wished to make an accomplished girl of her daughter; and
as Guyot could not teach English or music, she decided to send her to
the Ursulines at Honfleur.

The child made no objection, but Felicite sighed and thought Madame was
heartless. Then, she thought that perhaps her mistress was right, as
these things were beyond her sphere. Finally, one day, an old fiacre
stopped in front of the door and a nun stepped out. Felicite put
Virginia's luggage on top of the carriage, gave the coachman some
instructions, and smuggled six jars of jam, a dozen pears and a bunch of
violets under the seat.

At the last minute, Virginia had a fit of sobbing; she embraced her
mother again and again, while the latter kissed her on the forehead, and
said: "Now, be brave, be brave!" The step was pulled up and the fiacre
rumbled off.

Then Madame Aubain had a fainting spell, and that evening all her
friends, including the two Lormeaus, Madame Lechaptois, the ladies
Rochefeuille, Messieurs de Houppeville and Bourais, called on her and
tendered their sympathy.

At first the separation proved very painful to her. But her daughter
wrote her three times a week and the other days she, herself, wrote to
Virginia. Then she walked in the garden, read a little, and in this way
managed to fill out the emptiness of the hours.

Each morning, out of habit, Felicite entered Vi