w. She slept as the persecuted
sleep,--a slumber bright with angels; that slumber full of heavenly
arabesques, in atmospheres of gold and lapis-lazuli, perceived and given
to us by Raffaelle.

The moral nature had such empire over that frail physical nature that on
the morrow Pierrette rose light and joyous as a lark, as radiant and
as gay. Such a change could not escape the vigilant eye of her cousin
Sylvie, who, this time, instead of scolding her, set about watching
her with the scrutiny of a magpie. "What reason is there for such
happiness?" was a thought of jealousy, not of tyranny. If the colonel
had not been in Sylvie's mind she would have said to Pierrette as
formerly, "Pierrette, you are very noise, and very regardless of what
you have often been told." But now the old maid resolved to spy upon
her as only old maids can spy. The day was still and gloomy, like the
weather that precedes a storm.

"You don't appear to be ill now, mademoiselle," said Sylvie at dinner.
"Didn't I tell you she put it all on to annoy us?" she cried, addressing
her brother, and not waiting for Pierrette's answer.

"On the contrary, cousin, I have a sort of fever--"

"Fever! what fever? You are as gay as a lark. Perhaps you have seen some
one again?"

Pierrette trembled and dropped her eyes on her plate.

"Tartufe!" cried Sylvie; "and only fourteen years old! what a nature! Do
you mean to come to a bad end?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Pierrette, raising her sweet and
luminous brown eyes to her cousin.

"This evening," said Sylvie, "you are to stay in the dining-room with a
candle, and do your sewing. You are not wanted in the salon; I sha'n't
have you looking into my hand to help your favorites."

Pierrette made no sign.

"Artful creature!" cried Sylvie, leaving the room.

Rogron, who did not understand his sister's anger, said to Pierrette:
"What is all this about? Try to please your cousin, Pierrette; she is
very indulgent to you, very gentle, and if you put her out of temper the
fault is certainly yours. Why do you squabble so? For my part I like to
live in peace. Look at Mademoiselle Bathilde and take pattern by her."

Pierrette felt able to bear everything. Brigaut would come at midnight
and bring her an answer, and that hope was the viaticum of her day. But
she was using up her last strength. She did not go to bed, and stood
waiting for the hour to strike. At last midnight sounded; softly she
opened the windo