looked at me--grave and
wondering. This recalled me to a sense of my weakness. But how I got
home I can scarcely say. My mother and wife met me with anxiety. They
were greatly disturbed about the hospital of St. Jean, in respect to
which it had been recently decided that certain changes should be made.
The great ward of the hospital, which was the chief establishment for
the patients--a thing which some had complained of as an annoyance
disturbing their rest. So many, indeed, had been the complaints
received, that we had come to the conclusion either that the opening
should be built up, or the office suspended. Against this decision, it
is needless to say, the Sisters of St. Jean were moving heaven and
earth. Equally unnecessary for me to add, that having so decided in my
public capacity, as at once the representative of popular opinion and
its guide, the covert reproaches which were breathed in my presence, and
even the personal appeals made to me, had failed of any result. I
respect the Sisters of St. Jean. They are good women and excellent
nurses, and the commune owes them much. Still, justice must be
impartial; and so long as I retain my position at the head of the
community, it is my duty to see that all have their due. My opinions as
a private individual, were I allowed to return to that humble position,
are entirely a different matter; but this is a thing which ladies,
however excellent, are slow to allow or to understand.

I will not pretend that this was to me a night of rest. In the darkness,
when all is still, any anxiety which may afflict the soul is apt to gain
complete possession and mastery, as all who have had true experience of
life will understand. The night was very dark and very still, the clocks
striking out the hours which went so slowly, and not another sound
audible. The streets of Semur are always quiet, but they were more still
than usual that night. Now and then, in a pause of my thoughts, I could
hear the soft breathing of my Agnes in the adjoining room, which gave me
a little comfort. But this was only by intervals, when I was able to
escape from the grasp of the recollections that held me fast. Again I
seemed to see under my closed eyelids the faint line of the high road
which led from the Porte St. Lambert, the broken ground with its ragged
bushes on either side, and no one--no one there--not a soul, not a
shadow: yet a multitude! When I allowed myself to think of this, my
heart leaped int