yes and her golden
hair.

Two armchairs, covered with crimson velvet, had been placed for Felicien
and Angelique before the altar; and directly behind them, while the
organs increased their phrases of welcome, Hubert and Hubertine knelt
on the low benches which were destined for the family. The day before an
intense joy had come to them, from the effects of which they had not yet
recovered, and they were incapable of expressing their deep, heartfelt
thanks for their own happiness, which was so closely connected with that
of their daughter. Hubertine, having gone once more to the cemetery,
saddened by the thought of their loneliness, and the little house, which
would seem so empty after the departure of the dearly-beloved child, had
prayed to her mother for a long time; when suddenly she felt within her
an inexplicable relief and gladness, which convinced her that at last
her petition had been granted. From the depths of the earth, after more
than twenty years, the obstinate mother had forgiven them, and sent them
the child of pardon so ardently desired and longed for. Was this the
recompense of their charity towards the poor forlorn little creature
whom they had found one snowy day at the Cathedral entrance, and who
to-day was to wed a prince with all the show and pomp of the greatest
ceremony? They remained on their knees, without praying in formulated
words, enraptured with gratitude, their whole souls overflowing with
an excess of infinite thanksgiving. And on the other side of the nave,
seated on his high, official throne, Monseigneur was also one of the
family group. He seemed filled with the majesty of the God whom he
represented; he was resplendent in the glory of his sacred vestments,
and the expression of his countenance was that of a proud serenity, as
if he were entirely freed from all worldly passions. Above his head,
on the panel of wonderful embroidery, were two angels supporting the
brilliant coat of arms of Hautecoeur.

Then the solemn service began. All the clergy connected with the
cathedral were present to do honour to their Bishop, and priests had
come from the different parishes to assist them. Among the crowd of
white surplices which seemed to overflow the grating, shone the golden
capes of the choristers, and the red robes of the singing-boys. The
almost eternal night of the side-aisles, crushed down by the weight of
the heavy Romanesque chapels, was this morning slightly brightened by
the limpi