in the end. In fact, it was this
feeling of certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of haughty
rectitude, and of justice.

Hubert from time to time scolded her.

"You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale. I hope at
least that you sleep well at night."

"Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than
now."

But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should
take a little vacation, and said:

"If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we will
go, all three of us, to Paris for a while."

"Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking? What would become of all our
orders for work? You know I am never in better health than when closely
occupied."

In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of
the Invisible which would give her to Felicien. In addition to the
fact that she had promised to do nothing, what need was there of her
striving, since in the beyond some unknown power was always working for
her? So, in her voluntary inaction, while feigning indifference, she was
continually on the watch, listening to the voices of all that quivered
around her, and to the little familiar sounds of this circle in which
she lived and which would assuredly help her. Something must eventually
come from necessity. As she leaned over her embroidery-frame, not far
from the open window, she lost not a trembling of the leaves, not a
murmur of the Chevrotte. The slightest sighs from the Cathedral came to
her, magnified tenfold by the eagerness of her attention; she even heard
the slippers of the beadle as he walked round the altar when putting
out the tapers. Again at her side she felt the light touch of mysterious
wings; she knew that she was aided by the unknown, and at times she even
turned suddenly, thinking that a phantom had whispered in her ear the
way of gaining the hoped-for victory. But days passed and no change
came.

At night, that she need not break her word, Angelique at first did not
go out upon the balcony, for fear of being tempted to rejoin Felicien,
were she to see him below her. She remained quietly waiting in her
chamber. Then, as the leaves even scarcely stirred, but seemed to sleep,
she ventured out, and began to question the dark shadows as before.

From whence would the miracle come? Without doubt, in the Bishop's
garden would be seen a flaming hand, which would beckon to her to
approach.

Or, perhaps, t