w I believed everything, provided
it only ministered to my new hopes. Laura evidently, too, believed in
the 'Canaan' of which, at last, we used to discourse as freely as though
we had been there. Little discussions would, however, now and then vary
the uniformity of this creed, and I remember once feeling almost hurt at
Laura's not agreeing with me about zebras, which I assured her were just
as trainable as horses, but which the marquise flatly refused ever to
use in any of her carriages. These were mere passing clouds: the regular
atmosphere of our wishes was bright and transparent. In the midst of
these delicious daydreams, there came one day a number of letters to
the marquise by the hands of a courier on his way to Naples. What their
contents I never knew, but the tidings seemed most joyful, for the old
lady invited the general and myself to dinner, when the table was decked
out with white lilies on all sides; she herself, and Laura also, wearing
them in bouquets on their dresses.

The occasion had, I could see, something of a celebration about it.
Mysterious hints to circumstances I knew nothing of were constantly
interchanged, the whole ending with a solemn toast to the memory of the
'Saint and Martyr'; but who he was, or when he lived, I knew not one
single fact about.

That evening--I cannot readily forget it--was the first I had ever an
opportunity of being alone with Laura! Hitherto the marquise had always
been beside us; now she had all this correspondence to read over
with the general, and they both retired into a little boudoir for
the purpose, while Laura and myself wandered out upon the terrace,
as awkward and constrained as though our situation had been the most
provoking thing possible. It was on that same morning I had received the
general's message regarding my situation, and I was burning with anxiety
to tell it, and yet knew not exactly how. Laura, too, seemed full of her
own thoughts, and leaned pensively over the balustrade and gazed on the
stream.

'What are you thinking of so seriously?' asked I, after a long pause.

'Of long, long ago,' said she, sighing, 'when I was a little child. I
remember a little chapel like that yonder, only that it was not on a
rock over a river, but stood in a small garden; and though in a great
city, it was as lonely and solitary as might be--the Chapelle de St.
Blois.'

'St. Blois, Laura!' cried I; 'oh, tell me about that!'

'Why, you surely never heard of it