softly, and we two soldiers, dusty, tattered and squalid,
trying to make as little noise as possible with our heavy hobnailed
boots! The nun's rosary clinked at each step against a bundle of keys
that hung from her girdle.

I was walking last and enjoying the curious picture. The light fell
only on Sister Gabrielle. As she turned on the landing, the feeble ray
from below threw her delicate features into relief: her fine nose, her
childish mouth, with its constant smile; our own shadows appeared upon
the wall in fantastic shapes. Certainly we had never yet received so
strange and unexpected a welcome.

We passed a high oak door, surmounted by a cross and a pediment with a
Latin inscription. Sister Gabrielle crossed herself and bowed her
head.

"The chapel," she said in a low voice.

And she went quickly on to the accompaniment of her clinking rosary
and keys. As we began to go up the second flight of stairs B. resumed
his monologue in a whisper:

"Sister Gabrielle, ... Sister Gabrielle, you are an angel from
Paradise. Surely God can refuse you nothing. You will pray for me this
evening, won't you? for I am a great sinner."

"Oh, yes, of course I shall pray for you," she answered, softly, as
she turned towards us.

We came out on a long passage, bare and whitewashed. Half a dozen
doors could be distinguished at regular intervals, all alike. Sister
Gabrielle opened one of them, and we followed her in. We found
ourselves in a small room, austerely furnished with two little iron
bedsteads, two little deal tables, and two rush chairs. Above each bed
there was a crucifix, with a branch of box attached to it. Each table
had a tiny white basin and a tiny water-jug. All this was very nice,
and amply sufficient for us. Everything was clean, bright, and
polished.

"Thank you, Sister; we shall be as comfortable as possible. But, one
thing, we shall sleep like tops. Will there be any one to wake us?"

"At what time do you want to get up?"

"At six, Sister, punctually, as soldiers must, you know."

"Oh! then I will see to it. We have Mass at four o'clock every
morning."

"At four o'clock!" exclaimed B. "Every morning! Very well, Sister, to
show you we are not miscreants, wake us at half-past three, and we
will go to Mass too."

"But it isn't allowed. It is our Mass, in our chapel. No, no, you must
sleep.... Get to bed quickly. Good-night. I will wake you at six
o'clock."

"Good-night, Sister Gabrielle; good-night..