ng away of the rich wooden stall work, some
fragments of which still clung to the walls. The east end, like that of
many French churches, formed a semicircle, the high altar having been in
the centre, and five tall deep bays forming lesser chapels embracing it,
their vaults all gathered up into one lofty crown above, and a slender
pillar separating between each chapel, each of which further contained
a tall narrow window. Of course, all had been utterly desolated, and
Philip was actually lying in one of these chapels, where the sculptured
figure of St. John and his Eagle still remained on the wall; and a
sufficient remnant of his glowing sanguine robe of love was still in
the window to serve as a shield from the _bise_. The high altar of
rich marbles was a mere heap of shattered rubbish; but what surprised
Berenger more than all the ruined architectural beauty which his
_cinque-cento_ trained taste could not understand, was, that the tiles
of the pavement were perfectly clean, and diligently swept, the rubbish
piled up in corners; and here and there the relics of a cross or carved
figure lay together, as by a tender, reverential hand. Even the morsels
of painted glass had been placed side by side on the floor, so as to
form a mosaic of dark red, blue, and green; and a child's toy lay beside
this piece of patchwork. In the midst of his observations, however,
Captain Falconnet's servant came to summon him to breakfast; and the old
woman appearing at the same time, he could not help asking whether the
lady were coming.

'Oh yes, she will come to dress his wound in good time,' answered the
old woman.

'And when? I should like to hear what she thinks of it,' said Berenger.

'How?' said the old woman with a certain satisfaction in his
disappointment; 'is our Lady of Hope to be coming down among you gay
gallants?'

'But who is this Lady of Hope?' demanded he.

'Who should she be but our good pastor's daughter? Ah! and a brave, good
daughter she was too, abiding the siege because his breath was so bad
that he could not b