bout the yard, returned
at the voice of the soldier, who easily caught him by the broken halter;
and a hostler, whom Dagobert asked if there was another vacant stable,
having pointed out one that was only intended for a single animal, Jovial
was comfortably installed there.

When delivered from his ferocious neighbors, the horse became tranquil as
before, and even amused himself much at the expense of Dagobert's top
coat, which, thanks to his tricks, might have afforded immediate
occupation for his master's needle, if the latter had not been fully
engaged in admiring the eagerness with which Jovial dispatched his
provender. Completely reassured on his account, the soldier shut the door
of the stable, and proceeded to get his supper as quickly as possible, in
order to rejoin the orphans, whom he reproached himself with having left
so long.

CHAPTER V.

ROSE AND BLANCHE.

The orphans occupied a dilapidated chamber in one of the most remote
wings of the inn, with a single window opening upon the country. A bed
without curtains, a table, and two chairs, composed the more than modest
furniture of this retreat, which was now lighted by a lamp. On the table,
which stood near the window, was deposited the knapsack of the soldier.

The great Siberian dog, who was lying close to the door, had already
twice uttered a deep growl, and turned his head towards the window--but
without giving any further affect to this hostile manifestation.

The two sisters, half recumbent in their bed, were clad in long white
wrappers, buttoned at the neck and wrists. They wore no caps, but their
beautiful chestnut hair was confined at the temples by a broad piece of
tape, so that it might not get tangled during the night. These white
garments, and the white fillet that like a halo encircled their brows,
gave to their fresh and blooming faces a still more candid expression.

The orphans laughed and chatted, for, in spite of some early sorrows,
they still retained the ingenuous gayety of their age. The remembrance of
their mother would sometimes make them sad, but this sorrow had in it
nothing bitter; it was rather a sweet melancholy, to be sought instead of
shunned. For them, this adored mother was not dead--she was only absent.

Almost as ignorant as Dagobert, with regard to devotional exercises, for
in the desert where they had lived there was neither church nor priest,
their faith, as was already said, consisted in this--that God, jus