murmured, as though giving utterance to a prognostic. "She will recover."

Then he rejoined Sister Hyacinthe, who had seated herself in the
embrasure of the lofty window, which stood wide open, admitting the warm
air of the courtyard. The sun was now creeping round, and only a narrow
golden ray fell upon her white coif and wimple. Ferrand stood opposite to
her, leaning against the window bar and watching her while she sewed. "Do
you know, Sister," said he, "this journey to Lourdes, which I undertook
to oblige a friend, will be one of the few delights of my life."

She did not understand him, but innocently asked: "Why so?"

"Because I have found you again, because I am here with you, assisting
you in your admirable work. And if you only knew how grateful I am to
you, what sincere affection and reverence I feel for you!"

She raised her head to look him straight in the face, and began jesting
without the least constraint. She was really delicious, with her pure
lily-white complexion, her small laughing mouth, and adorable blue eyes
which ever smiled. And you could realise that she had grown up in all
innocence and devotion, slender and supple, with all the appearance of a
girl hardly in her teens.

"What! You are so fond of me as all that!" she exclaimed. "Why?"

"Why I'm fond of you? Because you are the best, the most consoling, the
most sisterly of beings. You are the sweetest memory in my life, the
memory I evoke whenever I need to be encouraged and sustained. Do you no
longer remember the month we spent together, in my poor room, when I was
so ill and you so affectionately nursed me?"