iers."

Something in the voice seemed peculiar to me. I turned and examined the
new-comer. He stood behind and to one side of the Director, who was
laboriously deciphering some papers through his big horn spectacles. The
light was not very bright, but there was enough to see a wonderfully
handsome face, framed in dazzling black curls. Perhaps it looked the
more beautiful because contrasted with the shaven gray poll and surly
features of grim Abonus. But to me it was a dream of St. John the
Evangel. The eyes of the face were lowered upon the Director, so I could
only guess their brilliancy. The features were those of an extreme
youth--round, soft, and delicate. The expression was one of utter
fatigue, almost pain. It bore out the statement of ill-health.

The Director had finished his reading. He lifted his head now and
surveyed the stranger in turn. Finally, stretching out his fat hand, he
said:

"You are welcome, Brother Edouard. I see the letter says you have had no
experience except with the youngest children. Brother Photius does that
now. We will have you rest for a time. Then we will see about it.
Meanwhile I will turn you over to the care of good Abonus, who will give
you one of the north rooms."

So the two went out, Abonus shuffling his feet disagreeably. It was
strange that he could do nothing to please me.

"Brother Sebastian," said the Director, as the door closed, "it is
curious that they should have sent me a tenth man. Why, I lie awake now
to invent pretences of work for those I have already. I will give up all
show of teaching presently, and give out that I keep a hospital--a
retreat for ailing brothers. Still, this Edouard is a pretty boy."

"Very."

"Etienne's letter says he is twenty and a Savoyard. He speaks like a
Parisian."

"Very likely he is seminary bred," put in the Swiss.

"Whatever he is, I like his looks," said our Superior. This good man
liked every one. His was the placid, easy Alsatian nature, prone to find
goodness in all things--even crabbed Abonus. The Director, or, as he was
known, Brother Elysee, was a stout, round little man, with a fine face
and imperturbable good spirits. He was adored by all his subordinates.
But I fancy he did not advance in favor at Paris very rapidly.

I liked Edouard from the first. The day after he came we were together
much, and, when we parted after vespers, I was conscious of a vast
respect for this new-comer. He was bright, ready spoken, and