the Holy Sacrament from the hands
of Monseigneur, he placed it on the altar. It was the final
Benediction--the _Tantum ergo_ sung loudly by the choristers, the
incenses of the boxes burning in the censers, the strange, brusque
silence during the prayer--and in the midst of the lighted church,
overflowing with clergy and with people, under the high, springing
arches, Monseigneur remounted to the altar, took again in his two hands
the great golden sun, which he waved back and forth in the air three
times, with a slow sign of the Cross.

CHAPTER XI

That same evening, on returning from church, Angelique thought to
herself, "I shall see him again very soon, for he will certainly be in
the Clos-Marie, and I will go there to meet him."

Without having exchanged a word with each other, they appeared to have
silently arranged this interview. The family dined as usual in the
kitchen, but it was eight o'clock before they were seated at the table.
Hubert, quite excited by this day of recreation and of fete, was the
only one who had anything to say. Hubertine, unusually quiet, scarcely
replied to her husband, but kept her looks fixed upon the young girl,
who ate heartily and with a good appetite, although she scarcely seemed
to pay any attention to the food, or to know that she put her fork to
her mouth, so absorbed was she by her fancies. And under this candid
forehead, as under the crystal of the purest water, Hubertine read her
thoughts clearly, and followed them as they formed themselves in her
mind one by one.

At nine o'clock they were greatly surprised by a ringing of the
door-bell. It proved to be the Abbe Cornille, who, notwithstanding his
great fatigue, had come to tell them that Monseigneur the Bishop had
greatly admired the three old panels of marvellous embroidery.

"Yes, indeed! And he spoke of them so enthusiastically to me that I was
sure it would please you to know it."

Angelique, who had roused up on hearing the name of Monseigneur, fell
back again into her reveries as soon as the conversation turned to the
procession. Then after a few minutes she got up.

"But where are you going, dear?" asked Hubertine.

The question startled her, as if she herself knew not why she had left
her seat.

"I am going upstairs, mother, for I am very tired."

In spite of this plausible excuse, Hubertine imagined the true reason
that influenced her. It was the need of being by herself, the haste of
communing alone wit