cles of her
remains, as the greater portion was burnt by the Huguenots in
1562. On a previous occasion (1412) the tomb had been violated by
Jean, Duc de Berry, who wished to remove both the saint's head
and her two rings. Whilst he was making the attempt, however, the
skeleton is said to have withdrawn its hand so that he might not
possess himself of the rings. A greater curiosity which the church
contains is a footprint on a stone slab, said to have been left
by Christ when He appeared to Ste. Radegonde in her cell. This
attracts pilgrims from many parts.--Trans.

"They promised to tell him and send him here with the Holy Oils as soon
as they found him," added Sister Claire.

However, this was quite a disaster for Sister Hyacinthe. Since Science
was powerless, perhaps the Holy Oils would have brought the sufferer some
relief. She had often seen that happen.

"O Sister, Sister, how worried I am!" she said to her companion. "Do you
know, I wish you would go back and watch for Father Massias and bring him
to me as soon as you see him. It would be so kind of you to do so!"

"Yes, Sister," compliantly answered Sister Claire des Anges, and off she
went again with that grave, mysterious air of hers, wending her way
through the crowd like a gliding shadow.

Ferrand, meantime, was still looking at the man, sorely distressed at his
inability to please Sister Hyacinthe by reviving him. And as he made a
gesture expressive of his powerlessness she again raised her voice
entreatingly: "Stay with me, Monsieur Ferrand, pray stay," she said.
"Wait till Father Massias comes--I shall be a little more at ease with
you here."

He remained and helped her to raise the man, who was slipping down upon
the seat. Then, taking a linen cloth, she wiped the poor fellow's face
which a dense perspiration was continually covering. And the spell of
waiting continued amid the uneasiness of the patients who had remained in
the carriage, and the curiosity of the folks who had begun to assemble on
the platform in front of the compartment.

All at once however a girl hastily pushed the crowd aside, and, mounting
on the footboard, addressed herself to Madame de Jonquiere: "What is the
matter, mamma?" she said. "They are waiting for you in the
refreshment-room."

It was Raymonde de Jonquiere, who, already somewhat ripe for her
four-and-twenty years, was remarkably like her mother, being very dark,
with a pronounce