the table always laid for four."

Then to the Cure and the avocat: "You shall visit me whenever you will,
and you are to wait for nothing, or I shall come to fetch you. Voila!
I am so glad to see you. And now, dear Cure, will you take me to my
carriage?"

Soon there was a surf of dust rising behind the carriage, hiding her; but
four men, left behind in the little garden, stood watching, as if they
expected to see a vision in rose and gold rise from it; and each was
smiling unconsciously.




CHAPTER IV

Since Friday night the good Cure, in his calm, philosophical way, had
brooded much over the talk in the garden upon France, the Revolution, and
Napoleon. As a rule, his sermons were commonplace almost to a classical
simplicity, but there were times when, moved by some new theme, he talked
to the villagers as if they, like himself, were learned and wise. He
thought of his old life in France, of two Napoleons that he had seen, and
of the time when, at Neuilly, a famous general burst into his father's
house, and, with streaming tears, cried:

"He is dead--he is dead--at St. Helena--Napoleon! Oh, Napoleon!"

A chapter from Isaiah came to the Cure's mind. He brought out his Bible
from the house, and, walking up and down, read aloud certain passages.