When the Sister entered the ward she found the doctor seated at the
missionary's bedside. "Monsieur Ferrand," she said, "come up-stairs with
me to the Sainte-Honorine Ward at once. We have a patient there at the
point of death."

He smiled at her; indeed, he never beheld her without feeling brighter
and comforted. "I will come with you, Sister," he replied. "But you'll
wait a minute, won't you? I must try to restore this poor man."

She waited patiently and made herself useful. The Family Ward, situated
on the ground-floor, was also full of sunshine and fresh air which
entered through three large windows opening on to a narrow strip of
garden. In addition to Brother Isidore, only Monsieur Sabathier had
remained in bed that morning, with the view of obtaining a little rest;
whilst Madame Sabathier, taking advantage of the opportunity, had gone to
purchase a few medals and pictures, which she intended for presents.
Comfortably seated on his bed, his back supported by some pillows, the
ex-professor was rolling the beads of a chaplet between his fingers. He
was no longer praying, however, but merely continuing the operation in a
mechanical manner, his eyes, meantime, fixed upon his neighbour, whose
attack he was following with painful interest.

"Ah! Sister," said he to Sister Hyacinthe, who had drawn near, "that poor
Brother fills me with admiration. Yesterday I doubted the Blessed Virgin
for a moment, seeing that she did not deign to hear me, though I have
been coming here for seven years past; but the example set me by that
poor martyr, so resigned amidst his torments, has quite shamed me for my
want of faith. You can have no idea how grievously he suffers, and you
should see him at the Grotto, with his eyes glowing with divine hope! It