the flagstones. She
turned and saw Monseigneur, and remained motionless at this silent
approach without the pomp and surroundings she had vaguely expected.
He entered into the chapel, tall, erect, and noble-looking, dressed in
purple, with his pale face, his rather large nose, and his superb eyes,
which still seemed youthful in their expression. At first he did not
notice her against the black gate. Then, as he was about to kneel down,
he saw her before him at his feet.

With trembling limbs, overcome by respect and fear, Angelique had fallen
upon her knees. He seemed to her at this moment like the Eternal Father,
terrible in aspect and absolute master of her destiny. But her heart was
still courageous, and she spoke at once.

"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come----"

As for the Bishop, he had risen immediately. He had a vague recollection
of her; the young girl, seen first at her window on the day of the
procession, and re-found a little later standing on a chair in the
church; this little embroiderer, with whom his son was so desperately
in love. He uttered no word, he made no gesture. He waited, stern and
stiff.

"Oh! Monseigneur, I have come on purpose that you may see me. You have,
it is true, refused to accept me, but you do not know me. And now, here
I am. Please look at me before you repel me again. I am the one who
loves, and am also beloved, and that is all. Nothing beyond this
affection. Nothing but a poor child, found at the door of this church.
You see me at your feet, little, weak, and humble. If I trouble you it
will be very easy for you to send me away. You have only to lift your
little finger to crush me. But think of my tears! Were you to know how
I have suffered, you would be compassionate. I wished, Monseigneur, to
plead my cause in my turn. I love, and that is why I kneel before you,
to tell you so. I am ignorant in many ways; I only know I love. All
my strength and all my pride is centred in that fact. Is not that
sufficient? It certainly makes one great and good to be able to say that
one really loves."

She continued with sighs, and in broken phrases, to confess everything
to him, in an unaffected outpouring of ardent feeling. It was a true
affection that thus acknowledged itself. She dared to do so because she
was innocent and pure. Little by little she raised her head.

"We love each other, Monseigneur. Without doubt he has already told
you how all this came to pass. As for me, I have often a