church, in an old wooden statue
that formerly was painted, but was to-day a light fawn colour, all
gilded by age. She occupied the entire front of the mitre, half
floating, as she was carried towards heaven borne by the angels;
which below her, stretched out into the distance, was a fine delicate
landscape. The other sides and the lappets were enriched with
lance-shaped ornaments of an exquisite style.

"These ladies," continued Felicien, "wish to make the present on the
occasion of the Procession of the Miracle, and naturally I thought it my
duty to choose Saint Agnes."

"The idea was a most excellent one," interposed Hubert.

And Hubertine added, in her turn:

"Monseigneur will be deeply gratified."

The so-called Procession of the Miracle, which takes place each year on
July 28, dates from the time of Jean V d'Hautecoeur, who instituted it
as a thanksgiving to God for the miraculous power He had given to him
and to his race to save Beaumont from the plague. According to the
legend, the Hautecoeurs are indebted for this remarkable gift to the
intervention of Saint Agnes, of whom they were the greatest admirers;
and since the most ancient time, it has been the custom on the
anniversary of her fete to take down the old statue of the saint and
carry it slowly in a solemn procession through the streets of the town,
in the pious belief that she still continues to disperse and drive away
all evils.

"Ah," at last murmured Angelique, her eyes on the design, "the
Procession of the Miracle. But that will come in a few days, and we
shall not have time enough to finish it."

The Huberts shook their heads. In truth, so delicate a piece of work
required the most minute care and attention. Yet Hubertine turned
towards her daughter as she said:

"I could help you, my dear. I might attend to the ornaments, and then
you will only have the figure to do."

Angelique continued to closely examine the figure of the saint, and was
deeply troubled. She said to herself, "No, no." She refused; she would
not give herself the pleasure of accepting. It would be inexcusable on
her part thus to be an accomplice in a plan, for it was evident that
Felicien was keeping something back. She was perfectly sure that he was
not poor, and that he wore a workman's dress simply as a disguise; and
this affected simplicity, all this history, told only that he might
approach her, put her on her guard, amused and happy though she was,
in reality, tran