d again, a little maliciously:

"I expect him, and he will come."

It was absurd for her thus to give loose reins to her imagination. But
she was willful. She was convinced in her own mind that everything would
come to pass, eventually, as she wished it might. Nothing could weaken
her happy conviction.

"Mother," she added, "why do you not believe me, since I assure you it
must be as I say?"

Hubertine shrugged her shoulders, and concluded the best thing for her
to do was to tease her.

"But I thought, my child, that you never intended being married. Your
saints, who seem to have turned your head, they led single lives. Rather
than do otherwise they converted their lovers, ran away from their
homes, and were put to death."

The young girl listened and was confused. But soon she laughed merrily.
Her perfect health, and all her love of life, rang out in this sonorous
gaiety. "The histories of the saints! But that was ages ago! Times have
entirely changed since then. God having so completely triumphed, no
longer demands that anyone should die for Him."

When reading the Legend, it was the marvels which fascinated her, not
the contempt of the world and the desire for death. She added: "Most
certainly I expect to be married; to love and to be loved, and thus be
very happy."

"Be careful, my dear," said Hubertine, continuing to tease her. "You
will make your guardian angel, Saint Agnes, weep. Do not you know that
she refused the son of the Governor, and preferred to die, that she
might be wedded to Jesus?"

The great clock of the belfry began to strike; numbers of sparrows flew
down from an enormous ivy-plant which framed one of the windows of
the apse. In the workroom, Hubert, still silent, had just hung up the
banner, moist from the glue, that it might dry, on one of the great iron
hooks fastened to the wall.

The sun in the course of the morning had lightened up different parts
of the room, and now it shone brightly upon the old tools--the diligent,
the wicker winder, and the brass chandelier--and as its rays fell upon
the two workers, the frame at which they were seated seemed almost
on fire, with its bands polished by use, and with the various objects
placed upon it, the reels of gold cord, the spangles, and the bobbins of
silk.

Then, in this soft, charming air of spring, Angelique looked at
the beautiful symbolic lily she had just finished. Opening wide her
ingenuous eyes, she replied, with an air of con