creature so gracious in weakness, so strong with love? It is the
ordinary nature that is attracted by young, smooth, pink-and-white
beauty, or, in one word, by prettiness. In some faces love awakens
amid the wrinkles carved by sorrow and the ruin made by melancholy;
Montriveau could not but feel drawn to these. For cannot a lover,
with the voice of a great longing, call forth a wholly new creature? a
creature athrob with the life but just begun breaks forth for him alone,
from the outward form that is fair for him, and faded for all the world
besides. Does he not love two women?--One of them, as others see her,
is pale and wan and sad; but the other, the unseen love that his heart
knows, is an angel who understands life through feeling, and is adorned
in all her glory only for love's high festivals.

The General left his post before sunrise, but not before he had heard
voices singing together, sweet voices full of tenderness sounding
faintly from the cell. When he came down to the foot of the cliffs where
his friends were waiting, he told them that never in his life had
he felt such enthralling bliss, and in the few words there was that
unmistakable thrill of repressed strong feeling, that magnificent
utterance which all men respect.

That night eleven of his devoted comrades made the ascent in the
darkness. Each man carried a poniard, a provision of chocolate, and
a set of house-breaking tools. They climbed the outer walls with
scaling-ladders, and crossed the cemetery of the convent. Montriveau
recognised the long, vaulted gallery through which he went to the
parlour, and remembered the windows of the room. His plans were made and
adopted in a moment. They would effect an entrance through one of the
windows in the Carmelite's half of the parlour, find their way along
the corridors, ascertain whether the sister's names were written on the
doors, find Sister Theresa's cell, surprise her as she slept, and carry
her off, bound and gagged. The programme presented no difficulties to
men who combined boldness and a convict's dexterity with the knowledge
peculiar to men of the world, especially as they would not scruple to
give a stab to ensure silence.

In two hours the bars were sawn through. Three men stood on guard
outside, and two inside the parlour. The rest, barefooted, took up their
posts along the corridor. Young Henri de Marsay, the most dexterous
man among them, disguised by way of precaution in a Carmelite