"Oh! what lovely weather! What perfect weather!" continued Angelique.
"It is a pleasure simply to live and to breathe."

And before stooping to apply herself to her work, she delayed another
moment before the open window, through which entered all the beauty of a
radiant May morning.



CHAPTER IV

The sun shone brightly on the roof of the Cathedral, a fresh odour of
lilacs came up from the bushes in the garden of the Bishop. Angelique
smiled, as she stood there, dazzled, and as if bathed in the springtide.
Then, starting as if suddenly awakened from sleep, she said:

"Father, I have no more gold thread for my work."

Hubert, who had just finished pricking the tracing of the pattern of a
cope, went to get a skein from the case of drawers, cut it, tapered
off the two ends by scratching the gold which covered the silk, and he
brought it to her rolled up in parchment.

"Is that all you need?"

"Yes, thanks."

With a quick glance she had assured herself that nothing more was
wanting; the needles were supplied with the different golds, the red,
the green, and the blue; there were spools of every shade of silk; the