bread with
the poorest peasants, nursed them when ill, dressed their sores without
repugnance, put on coarse garments like theirs, and followed them in the
church processions with bare feet. She was once washing the porringers
and the utensils of the kitchen, when the maids, seeing her so out of
place, urged her to desist, but she replied, "Could I find another task
more menial even than this, I would do it." Influenced by her example,
Angelique, who was formerly angry when obliged to do any cleaning in the
kitchen, now tried to invent some extremely disagreeable task when she
felt nervous and in need of control.

But more than Catherine, more than Elizabeth, far nearer and dearer
to her than all the other saints, was Agnes, the child-martyr; and her
heart leaped with joy on refinding in the "Golden Legend" this virgin,
clothed with her own hair, who had protected her under the Cathedral
portal. What ardour of pure love, as she repelled the son of the
Governor when he accosted her on her way from school! "Go--leave me,
minister of death, commencement of sin, and child of treason!" How
exquisitely she described her beloved! "I love the One whose Mother was
a Virgin, and whose father was faithful to her, at whose beauty the sun
and moon marvelled, and at whose touch the dead were made alive." And
when Aspasien commanded that "her throat should be cut by the sword,"
she ascended into Paradise to be united to her "betrothed, whiter and
purer than silver-gilt."

Always, when weary or disturbed, Angelique called upon and implored her,
and it seemed as if peace came to her at once. She saw her constantly
near her, and often she regretted having done or thought of things which
would have displeased her.

One evening as she was kissing her hands, a habit which she still at
times indulged in, she suddenly blushed and turned away, although she
was quite alone, for it seemed as if the little saint must have seen
her. Agnes was her guardian angel.

Thus, at fifteen Angelique was an adorable child. Certainly, neither the
quiet, laborious life, nor the soothing shadows of the Cathedral, nor
the legends of the beautiful saints, had made her an angel, a creature
of absolute perfection. She was often angry, and certain weaknesses of
character showed themselves, which had never been sufficiently guarded
against; but she was always ashamed and penitent if she had done wrong,
for she wished so much to be perfect. And she was so human,