the mere empty rattle of beads.

She simply wished. And as Mlle. Fouchette never did anything by
halves, she wished devoutly, earnestly, passionately, and with the hot
tears streaming from her eyes, without uttering a single word.

It would have been, from her point of view, quite impertinent for her
to thrust her little affairs directly before the Throne. She was too
timid even to appeal to the Holy Virgin, as she had often heard others
do, with the familiarity of personal acquaintance; but she felt that
she might approach Ste. Genevieve, patronne des vierges, with some
confidence, if not a sense of right.

She silently and tearfully laid her heart bare to Ste. Genevieve, and
with her whole passionate soul called upon her for support and
assistance. If ever a young virgin needed help it was she, Fouchette,
and if Ste. Genevieve had any influence at the higher court, now was
the time to use it. First it was that Jean and Andree might be happy
and think of her kindly now and then; next, that she might be forgiven
for everything up to date and be permitted to be good,--that some way
might be opened to her, and that she might be kept in that way.

Otherwise she must surely die.

If Sister Agnes might only be restored to her, it would be enough. It
was all she would ask,--the rest would follow. She must have Sister
Agnes,--good Sister Agnes, who loved her and would protect her and
lead her safely to the better life. Oh! only send her Sister Agnes----

"My child, you are in trouble?"

That gentle voice! The soft, caressing touch!

Ah! le bon Dieu!

It was Sister Agnes, truly!

The religieuse, ever struggling against the desires of the flesh, had
unconsciously kneeled side by side with the youthful suppliant.
Disturbed by the sobs of the latter, she had addressed her
sympathetically.

To poor little ignorant and believing Fouchette it was as if one of
the beautiful painted angels had suddenly assumed life and, leaving
the vaulted ceiling, had come floating down to softly brush her with
her protecting wings. Awe-stricken at what seemed a direct
manifestation of God, she found no words to express either surprise or
joy. She simply toppled over into the arms of the astonished
religieuse and lost consciousness. The reaction was too great.

Sister Agnes, who had not recognized in the girl dressed as a
bonne-a-toute-faire her protegee of Le Bon Pasteur, was naturally
somewhat startled at this unexpected demonstration