in her betrothed, and Balbine, who died from sudden joy at the
return of her husband, whom she thought had been killed in the war.
They both of them came back at night and enveloped the Castle with their
immense, flowing white robes. Had she not seen them herself the day of
their visit to the ruins, as they floated, towards evening, above the
towers in the rosy pallor of the dusk? Ah! how willingly she would die
as they did, although but sixteen years of age, in the supreme happiness
of the realisation of her dream!

A loud noise which reverberated under the arches made her tremble. It
was the priest who came out from the confessional of Saint Joseph and
shut the door after him. She was surprised at no longer seeing the
penitent, who had already gone. And when in his turn the clergyman went
out by way of the sacristy, she realised that she was absolutely alone
in the vast solitude of the Cathedral. At the loud sound of the door
of the confessional, as it creaked on its hinges, she thought that
Monseigneur was coming. It was nearly half an hour since she had
expected him, yet she did not realise it, for her excitement prevented
her from taking any note of time.

Soon a new name drew her eyes towards the tablets--Felicien III, who
went to Palestine, carrying a candle in his hand, to fulfil a vow of
Philippe le Bel. And her heart beat with pride as she saw before
her, mentally, the youthful Felicien VII, the descendant of all these
worthies, the fair-haired nobleman whom she adored, and by whom she was
so tenderly loved. She suddenly became filled with pride and fear. Was
it possible that she herself was there, in the expectation of bringing
about a prodigy? Opposite her there was a fresher plaque of marble,
dating from the last century, the black letters upon which she could
easily read. Norbert Louis Ogier, Marquis d'Hautecoeur, Prince of
Mirande and of Rouvres, Count of Ferrieres, of Montegu and of Saint
Marc, and also of Villemareuil, Chevalier of the four Royal Orders
of Saint Esprit, Saint Michel, Notre Dame de Carmel and Saint Louis,
Lieutenant in the Army of the King, Governor of Normandy, holding office
as Captain-General of the Hunting, and Master of the Hounds. All these
were the titles of Felicien's grandfather, and yet she had come, so
simple, with her working-dress and her fingers worn by the needle, in
hopes of marrying the grandson of this dead dignitary!

There was a slight sound, scarcely a rustling, on