Their one hope was in him; they lived through him. They added special
petitions for him to their prayers; night and morning the pious souls
prayed for his happiness, his prosperity, his safety; entreating God
to remove all snares far from his path, to deliver him from his
enemies, to grant him a long and peaceful life. And with this daily
renewed gratitude, as it may be called, there blended a feeling of
curiosity which grew more lively day by day. They talked over the
circumstances of his first sudden appearance, their conjectures were
endless; the stranger had conferred one more benefit upon them by
diverting their minds. Again, and again, they said, when he next came
to see them as he promised, to celebrate the sad anniversary of the
death of Louis XVI., he could not escape their friendship.

The night so impatiently awaited came at last. At midnight the old
wooden staircase echoed with the stranger's heavy footsteps. They had
made the best of their room for his coming; the altar was ready, and
this time the door stood open, and the two Sisters were out at the
stairhead, eager to light the way. Mademoiselle de Langeais even came
down a few steps, to meet their benefactor the sooner.

"Come," she said, with a quaver in the affectionate tones, "come in;
we are expecting you."

He raised his face, gave her a dark look, and made no answer. The
sister felt as if an icy mantle had fallen over her, and said no more.
At the sight of him, the glow of gratitude and curiosity died away in
their hearts. Perhaps he was not so cold, not so taciturn, not so
stern as he seemed to them, for in their highly wrought mood they were
ready to pour out their feeling of friendship. But the three poor
prisoners understood that he wished to be a stranger to them; and