to
Berenger a mere delusion of feverish weakness; for Philip had lost a
great deal of blood, and the wound, though not dangerous, permitted no
attempt at moving, and gave much pain. Of the perfections of the lady as
nurse and surgeon Philip could not say enough, and, pale and overwept as
he allowed her to be, he declared that he was sure that her beauty must
equal Mme. De Selinville's. Berenger laughed, and looking round this
strange hospital, now lighted by the full rays of the morning sun, he
was much struck by the scene.

It was the chancel of the old abbey church. The door by which they
had entered was very small, and perhaps had led merely to the abbot's
throne, as an irregularity for his own convenience, and only made
manifest by the rending away of the rich wooden stall work, some
fragments of which still clung to the walls. The east end, like that of
many French churches, formed a semicircle, the high altar having been in
the centre, and five tall deep bays forming lesser chapels embracing it,
their vaults all gathered up into one lofty crown above, and a slender
pillar separating between each chapel, each of which further contained
a tall narrow window. Of course, all had been utterly desolated, and
Philip was actually lying in one of these chapels, where the sculptured
figure of St. John and his Eagle still remained on the wall; and a
sufficient remnant of his glowing sanguine robe of love was still in
the window to serve as a shield from the _bise_. The high altar of
rich marbles was a mere heap of shattered rubbish; but what surprised
Berenger more than all the ruined architectural beauty which his
_cinque-cento_ trained taste could not understand, was, that the tiles
of the pavement were perfectly clean, and diligently swept, the rubbish
piled up in corners; and here and there the relics of a cross or carved
figure lay together, as by a tender, reverential hand. Even the morsels
of painted glass had been placed side by side on the floor, so as to
form a mosaic of dark red, blue, and green; and a child's toy lay beside
this piece of patchwork. In the midst of his observations, however,
Captain Falconnet's servant came to summon him to breakfast; and the old
woman appearing at the same time, he could not help asking whether the
lady were coming.

'Oh yes, she will come to dress his wound in good time,' answered the
old woman.

'And when? I should like to hear what she thinks of it,' said Berenger.

'How