e so celebrated.
Perhaps monsieur and madame kept goats in England?

"No; you have come only by the recommendation of the boatman, Fritz
Killner?" she asked. "No doubt he wished to give you the diversion of
the long passage in the boat."

I saw a look of amused intelligence pass over the Reverend Mother's
face; she had divined the object of the boatman's visit. In fact, she
frankly told us later--when we had seen the goats--that he had a sister
in the community, and thus let the cat out of the bag.

We were not by any means petrified with astonishment at the goats; they
seemed very ordinary animals, but with very long white coats. I had
seen better in a goat chaise at Ramsgate.

But we had, at the Reverend Mother's solicitation, to make the tour of
the convent.

We inspected the cows, the pigs, the orchard and a very respectable
range of glass houses.

Then we went to the chapel, and finally to the refectory; here the
hospitality of the white-clad order burst forth; we must have
_dejeuner_.

The good Superior waved aside the mention of our cold fowl, and
insisted on cutlets and an omelette. Meanwhile, we were to walk with
her upon the terrace to improve our appetite--we were simply ravenous
already.

"I have brought you to the terrace, monsieur and madam," proceeded the
nun, "not only to admire the fine view and increase your appetites, but
also to present you to Madame la Comtesse."

"Madame la Comtesse?" I repeated inquiringly.

She indicated the old white-haired lady sitting at the farther end of
the terrace.

"That is Madame la Comtesse, the founder of this religious house," she
explained. "She delights to see English visitors. She adores your
nation. Come, let us go to her, but I ask you to approach quite near
her, or she will not see you clearly. She is shortsighted."

Walking one on either hand of the Reverend Mother, we approached Madame
la Comtesse.

The attendant nun had fixed the large white sunshade in a socket in the
invalid chair; she was writing at the old lady's dictation. We came
quite near before the Comtesse heard us approaching. Then she turned
her head and looked at us, her kind old features breaking into a very
sweet smile; her glance wandered from the Mother Superior to Dolores,
then to me; there it stopped.

A little more frail, a little paler, yet with a bright colour in her
cheeks, her still clear eyes gazing up to mine with an alarmed look in
them; I knew her.