"what happiness! It's settled!"

Amazed, her head buzzing, busy with the superintendence of her ward,
Madame de Jonquiere did not understand. "What's settled, my child?" she
asked.

Then Raymonde lowered her voice, and, with a faint blush, replied: "My
marriage!"

It was now the mother's turn to rejoice. Lively satisfaction appeared
upon her face, the fat face of a ripe, handsome, and still agreeable
woman. She at once beheld in her mind's eye their little lodging in the
Rue Vaneau, where, since her husband's death, she had reared her daughter
with great difficulty upon the few thousand francs he had left her. This
marriage, however, meant a return to life, to society, the good old times
come back once more.

"Ah! my child, how happy you make me!" she exclaimed.

But a feeling of uneasiness suddenly restrained her. God was her witness
that for three years past she had been coming to Lourdes through pure
motives of charity, for the one great joy of nursing His beloved
invalids. Perhaps, had she closely examined her conscience, she might,
behind her devotion, have found some trace of her fondness for authority,
which rendered her present managerial duties extremely pleasant to her.
However, the hope of finding a husband for her daughter among the
suitable young men who swarmed at the Grotto was certainly her last
thought. It was a thought which came to her, of course, but merely as
something that was possible, though she never mentioned it. However, her
happiness, wrung an avowal from her:

"Ah! my child, your success doesn't surprise me. I prayed to the Blessed
Virgin for it this morning."

Then she wished to be quite sure, and asked for further information.
Raymonde had not yet told her of her long walk leaning on Gerard's arm
the day before, for she did not wish to speak of such things until she
was triumphant, certain of having at last secured a husband. And now it
was indeed settled, as she had exclaimed so gaily: that very morning she
had again seen the young man at the Grotto, and he had formally become
engaged to her. M. Berthaud would undoubtedly ask for her hand on his
cousin's behalf before they took their departure from Lourdes.

"Well," declared Madame de Jonquiere, who was now convinced, smiling, and
delighted at heart, "I hope you will be happy, since you are so sensible
and do not need my aid to bring your affairs to a successful issue. Kiss
me."

It was at this moment that Sister Hyacinthe arr