earth and sky" which we call religion. And hence, to natures like
Isaura's, that link between the woman and the priest, which the
philosophy of France has never been able to dissever.

"It is growing late," said Madame Rameau; "I am beginning to feel uneasy.
Our dear Isaura is not yet returned."

"You need be under no apprehension," said the Abby. The ladies attached
to the ambulance of which she is so tender and zealous a sister incur no
risk. There are always brave men related to the sick and wounded who see
to the safe return of the women. My poor Raoul visits that ambulance
daily. His kinsman, M. de Rochebriant, is there among the wounded."

"Not seriously hurt, I hope," said the Venosta; "not disfigured? He was
so handsome; it is only the ugly warrior whom a scar on the face
improves."

"Don't be alarmed, Signora; the Prussian guns spared his face. His
wounds in themselves were not dangerous, but he lost a good deal of
blood. Raoul and the Christian brothers found him insensible among a
heap of the slain."

"M. de Vandemar seems to have very soon recovered the shock of his poor
brother's death," said Madame Rameau. "There is very little heart in an
aristocrat."

The Abbe's mild brow contracted. "Have more charity, my daughter. It is
because Raoul's sorrow for his lost brother is so deep and so holy that
he devotes himself more than ever to the service of the Father which is
in heaven. He said, a day or two after the burial, when plans for a