coffers of this same society. When the notary read the passage relative
to the two portraits, Gabriel, who, like Father d'Aigrigny, sat with his
back towards the pictures, turned round to look at them. Hardly had the
missionary cast his eyes on the portrait of the woman, than he uttered a
loud cry of surprise, and almost terror. The notary paused in his
reading, and looked uneasily at the young priest.




CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LAST STROKE OF NOON.

At the cry uttered by Gabriel, the notary had stopped reading the
testament, and Father d'Aigrigny hastily drew near the young priest. The
latter rose trembling from his seat and gazed with increasing stupor at
the female portrait.

Then he said in a low voice, as if speaking to himself. "Good Heaven! is
it possible that nature can produce such resemblances? Those eyes--so
proud and yet so sad--that forehead--that pale complexion--yes, all her
features, are the same--all of them!"

"My dear son, what is the matter?" said Father d'Aigrigny, as astonished
as Samuel and the notary.

"Eight months ago," replied the missionary, in a voice of deep emotion,
without once taking his eyes from the picture, "I was in the power of the
Indians, in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. They had crucified, and