these, and have the most beautiful pictures, which I should
like you to see."

"And will there be music, and lights, and flowers there, the
same as here, papa?"

"Oh! for that, it is much the same everywhere," replied M.
Linders. "People are much alike all the world over, as you
will find, Madelon. Priests, and mummery, and a gaping crowd,
to stare and say, 'How wonderful! how beautiful!' as you do
now, _ma petite;_ but you shall know better some day."

He spoke with a certain bitterness that Madelon did not
understand, any more than she did his little speech; but it
silenced her for a moment, and then she said more timidly,

"But, papa----"

"Well, Madelon!"

"But, papa, he said--_ce Monsieur_--he said that people go to
church _pour prier le bon Dieu_. What did he mean? We often say
'_Mon Dieu_,' and I have heard them talk of _le bon Dieu;_ is that
the same? Who is He then--_le bon Dieu?_"

M. Linders did not at once reply. Madelon was looking up into
his face with wide-open perplexed eyes, frowning a little with
an unusual effort of thought, with the endeavour to penetrate
a momentary mystery, which she instinctively felt lay
somewhere, and which she looked to him to explain; and he