Mesdames Volmont and Alphege (for a creole never gets his or her last
name except in legal documents), were sitting on the gallery not far
from where Marcelline crouched on the steps, rocking themselves backward
and forward to keep off the mosquitoes and talking over the aspect of
affairs. They were both extremely pretty women, and very much alike.
Euphrosyne (Madame Volmont) was a year or two the older, but still not
more than twenty-two or three. She had been married at fourteen, and her
oldest boy was nearly eight, but she seemed not more than sixteen now;
while Clothilde (Madame Alphege), who, although married at the same age,
was childless, looked even younger; and any stranger seeing them this
evening in their soft white cambric dresses, little high-heeled red
slippers and floating ribbons, would have taken them for a couple of
pretty, dark-eyed, lazy school-girls enjoying their holiday.

Marcelline listened to them as they talked, at first with the same
intent, peculiar expression she had worn in the sick room, but gradually
her features relaxed as she heard their harmless chatter, subdued so as
not to disturb the sufferer near by, but full of little childish gossip
and kindly details of daily life. After talking for a few minutes about
Dr. Alphege's last report, which was that some slight improvement was
visible, Clothilde asked her sister with much interest if she had
finished the novena she was making, and on being answered in the
affirmative said that she would begin one herself on Monday.

"Bien!" said Euphrosyne. "If you will make a novena I will burn two more
candles, and get Pere Ramain to say three masses for my intention in
honor of the Blessed Trinity."

"Say the novena with me," suggested Clothilde, fanning and rocking, and
speaking less distinctly than usual because her mouth was full of candy.

"Indeed, I cannot," replied Euphrosyne: "my knees are black and blue
now. I told Pere Ramain yesterday that if he could just see them he
would not make me kneel again for a week."

As she spoke a horse's step was heard on the grass, and Volmont
Cherbuliez galloped lightly up over the turf. As he jumped down and
threw the reins to half a dozen nearly naked little black fellows who
were at his heels, his wife rose to meet him affectionately, and with
her hand on his shoulder said in a low tone of genuine delight, "Cher
ami, you will be so glad to hear that mamma is really better to-night!"
She was not look