them very well."

I did not immediately answer, and Sylvia's quick mind divined the reason
of my reluctance.

"Let us talk _en francais_," she said; "that will not disturb this good
man, and he can go to sleep if he likes."

"_Tres bien_," I said, "_parlons nous en francais_."

"_Il serait charmant_," said she; "_j'aime la belle langue_."

The old man turned his head from one to the other of us; all his
placidity vanished, and he exclaimed,--

"_Ciel! Voila les anges l'un et l'autre qui vient parler ma chere
langue._"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Sylvia, "I thought he was Irish."

The patient now took the talking business into his own hands, and in his
dear language told us his tale of woe. It was a very ordinary tale, and
its dolefulness was relieved by the old man's delight at finding people
who could talk to him like Christians. One of his woes was that he had
not been long enough married to his wife to teach her much French.

"I wish," interpolated Sylvia to me, "that we had kept on in English. It
would have been much more satisfactory. I expect one of the other
sisters will be here before very long, and before she comes I wish you
would tell me how you are getting on with your book. I have been
thinking about it, ever and ever so much."

"I am not getting on at all," said I; "without you there will be no
book."

At this Sylvia knit her brows a little, and looked disturbed.

"That is not a good way to talk about it," she said, "unless, indeed,
the book could be made a part of the brotherhood work, in some way. The
publisher might want a typewritten copy, and if I should make it, I
should know the end of the story of Tomaso and Lucilla. You know I had
almost given up ever knowing what finally happened to those two."

"You shall know it," said I; "we shall work together yet. I can think of
a dozen ways in which we can do it, and I intend to prove that my
brotherhood idea is thoroughly practicable."

"Of course it is," said Sylvia; "isn't this practical?" and she bedewed
the patient's brow so liberally, that some of the perfume ran into his
eyes, and made him wink vigorously.

"_Merci, mademoiselle_," said he, "_mais pas beaucoup, mais pas
beaucoup_!"

"A capital practical idea has just occurred to me," I said; "do you
think you shall be here to-morrow?"

"I expect to come here," she answered, "for I take a great deal of
interest in this old man. Mother Anastasia is still away, and I expect
that S