tongue by the pledge. Besides,
had I been unsworn, I am sure the idea of exposure would never have
come to me. It was late before I retired that night. And I recall with
terrible distinctness the chaos of brain and faculty which ushered in a
restless sleep almost as dawn was breaking.

I had fancied that Brother Edouard would find life intolerable in
community after his revelation to me. He would be chary of meeting me
before the brothers; would be constantly tortured by fear of detection.
As I saw this prospect of the poor innocent--for it was absurd to think
of him as anything else--dreading exposure at each step in his false
life, shrinking from observation, biting his tongue at every word--I
was greatly moved by pity. Judge my surprise, then, when I saw him the
next morning join in the younger brothers' regular walk around the
garden, joking and laughing as I had never seen before. On his right
was thin, sickly Victor, rest his soul! and on the other pursy,
thick-necked John, as merry a soul as Cork ever turned out. And how
they laughed, even the frail consumptive! It was a pleasure to see his
blue eyes brighten with enjoyment and his warm cheeks blush. Above
John's queer, Irish chuckle, I heard Edouard's voice, with its dainty
Parisian accent, retailing jokes and leading in the laughter. The tramp
was stretched out longer than usual, so pleasant did they find it. At
this development I was much amazed.

The same change was noticeable in all that Edouard did. Instead of the
apathy with which he had discharged his nominal duties, his baby pupils
(for Photius had gone to Peru) now became bewitched with him. He told
them droll stories, incited their rivalry in study by instituting
prizes for which they struggled monthly, and, in short, metamorphosed
his department. The change spread to himself. His cheeks took on a
ruddier hue, the sparkle of his black eyes mellowed into a calm and
steady radiance. There was no trace of feverish elation which, in
solitude, recoiled to the brink of despair. He sang to himself evenings
in his dormitory, clearly and with joy. His step was as elastic as that
of any schoolboy. I often thought upon this change, and meditated how
beautiful an illustration of confession's blessings it furnished.
Frequently we were alone, but he never referred again to that memorable
evening, even by implication. At first I dreaded to have the door close
upon us, feeling that he must perforce seek to take up t