self to God; she implores
him to save her soul from evil thoughts; she examines her conscience and
recalls what she has done during the day; that she may know if she has
failed to obey his commands and those of the church--poor dear little
soul, she lays bare her breast!" Tears were in the sleeper's eyes.
"She has done no sin, but she blames herself for thinking too much of
Savinien. She stops to wonder what he is doing in Paris; she prays to
God to make him happy. She speaks of you; she is praying aloud."

"Tell me her words." Minoret took his pencil and wrote, as the sleeper
uttered it, the following prayer, evidently composed by the Abbe
Chaperon.

"My God, if thou art content with thine handmaid, who worships
thee and prays to thee with a love that is equal to her devotion,
who strives not to wander from thy sacred paths, who would gladly
die as thy Son died to glorify thy name, who desires to live in
the shadow of thy will--O God, who knoweth the heart, open the
eyes of my godfather, lead him in the way of salvation, grant him
thy Divine grace, that he may live for thee in his last days; save
him from evil, and let me suffer in his stead. Kind Saint Ursula,
dear protectress, and you, Mother of God, queen of heaven,
archangels, and saints in Paradise, hear me! join your
intercessions to mine and have mercy upon us."

The sleeper imitated so perfectly the artless gestures and the inspired
manner of his child that Doctor Minoret's eyes were filled with tears.

"Does she say more?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Repeat it."

"'My dear godfather; I wonder who plays backgammon with him in Paris.'
She has blown out the light--her head is on the pillow--she turns to
sleep! Ah! she is off! How pretty she looks in her little night-cap."

Minoret bowed to the great Unknown, wrung Bouvard by the hand, ran
downstairs and hastened to a cab-stand which at that time was near the
gates of a house since pulled down to make room for the Rue d'Alger.
There he found a coachman who was willing to start immediately for
Fontainebleau. The moment the price was agreed on, the old man, who
seemed to have renewed his youth, jumped into the carriage and started.
According to agreement, he stopped to rest the horse at Essonne, but
arrived at Fontainebleau in time for the diligence to Nemours, on which
he secured a seat, and dismissed his coachman. He reached home at five
in the morning, and went to bed, with his life-long i