ve that He loves
best that which is best, not I, or a priest, or one who makes
professions? Thus, I sat down at the gate with a great confidence,
though also a trembling in my heart. He who had known how to choose him
among all the others, would not He guard him? It was a proof to me once
again that heaven is true, that the good God loves and comprehends us
all, to see how His wisdom, which is unerring, had chosen the best man
in Semur.

And M. le Cure, that goes without saying, he is a priest of priests, a
true servant of God.

I saw my husband go: perhaps, God knows, into danger, perhaps to some
encounter such as might fill the world with awe--to meet those who read
the thought in your mind before it comes to your lips. Well! there is no
thought in Martin that is not noble and true. Me, I have follies in my
heart, every kind of folly; but he!--the tears came in a flood to my
eyes, but I would not shed them, as if I were weeping for fear and
sorrow--no--but for happiness to know that falsehood was not in him. My
little Marie, a holy virgin, may look into her father's heart--I do not
fear the test.

The sun came warm to my feet as I sat on the foundation of our city, but
the projection of the tower gave me a little shade. All about was a
great peace. I thought of the psalm which says, 'He will give it to His
beloved sleeping'--that is true; but always there are some who are used
as instruments, who are not permitted to sleep. The sounds that came
from the people gradually ceased; they were all very quiet. M. de
Bois-Sombre I saw at a distance making his dispositions. Then M. Paul
Lecamus, whom I had long known, came up across the field, and seated
himself close to me upon the road. I have always had a great sympathy
with him since the death of his wife; ever since there has been an
abstraction in his eyes, a look of desolation. He has no children or any
one to bring him back to life. Now, it seemed to me that he had the air
of a man who was dying. He had been in the city while all of us had been
outside.

'Monsieur Lecamus,' I said, 'you look very ill, and this is not a place
for you. Could not I take you somewhere, where you might be more at your
ease?'

'It is true, Madame,' he said, 'the road is hard, but the sunshine is
sweet; and when I have finished what I am writing for M. le Maire, it
will be over. There will be no more need--'

I did not understand what he meant. I asked him to let me help him, but
he