fiding happiness, to
Hubertine's last remark in regard to the child-martyr, Saint Agnes:

"Ah, yes! But it was Jesus who wished it to be so."

CHAPTER V

Notwithstanding her thoroughly cheerful nature, Angelique liked
solitude; and it was to her the greatest of recreations to be alone
in her room, morning and evening. There she gave herself up to her
thoughts; there she indulged to the full scope in her most joyous
fancies. Sometimes even during the day, when she could go there for a
moment, she was as happy as if, in full freedom, she had committed some
childish prank.

The chamber was very large, taking in at least half of the upper story,
the other half being the garret. It was whitewashed everywhere; not only
the walls and the beams, but the joists, even to the visible copings of
the mansard part of the roof; and in this bare whiteness, the old oaken
furniture seemed almost as black as ebony. At the time of the decoration
of the sleeping-room below, and the improvements made in the parlour,
the ancient furniture, which had been bought at various epochs, had
been carried upstairs. There was a great carved chest of the Renaissance
period, a table and chairs which dated from the reign of Louis XIII, an
enormous bedstead, style Louis XIV, and a very handsome wardrobe, Louis
XV. In the middle of these venerable old things a white porcelain stove,
and the little toilet-table, covered with a pretty oilcloth, seemed out
of place and to mar the dull harmony. Curtained with an old-fashioned
rose-coloured chintz, on which were bouquets of heather, so faded that
the colour had become a scarcely perceptible pink, the enormous bedstead
preserved above all the majesty of its great age.

But what pleased Angelique more than anything else was the little
balcony on which the window opened. Of the two original windows, one
of them, that at the left, had been closed by simply fastening it with
nails, and the balcony, which formerly extended across the front of
the building, was now only before the window at the right. As the lower
beams were still strong, a new floor had been made, and above it an
iron railing was firmly attached in place of the old worm-eaten wooden
balustrade. This made a charming little corner, a quiet nook under the
gable point, the leaden laths of which had been renewed at the beginning
of the century. By bending over a little, the whole garden-front of the
house could be seen in a very dilapidated state,