“It relates to some strange event which their vivid imaginations have invested with a supernatural character.

“And yet, my love, you and I have no longer the right to smile at the credulity of others.  I, since the French campaign, when I met with that extraordinary adventure, which, to this day, I am quite unable to understand—­”

“This refers to the man who threw himself before the mouth of the cannon,” said Dagobert.

“And you,” continued the maiden, still reading, “you, my dear Eva, since the visits of that young and beautiful woman, whom, as your mother asserted, she had seen at her mother’s house forty years before.”

The orphans, in amazement, looked at the soldier.

“Your mother never spoke to me of that, nor the general either, my children; this is as strange to me as it is to you.”

With increasing excitement and curiosity, Rose continued: 

“After all, my dear Eva, things which appear very extraordinary, may often be explained by a chance resemblance or a freak of nature.  Marvels being always the result of optical illusion or heated fancy, a time must come, when that which appeared to be superhuman or supernatural, will prove to be the most simple and natural event in the world.  I doubt not, therefore, that the things, which we denominate our prodigies, will one day receive this commonplace solution.”

“You see, my children—­things appear marvelous, which at bottom are quite simple—­though for a long time we understand nothing about them.”

“As our father relates this, we must believe it, and not be astonished—­eh, sister?”

“Yes, truly—­since it will all be explained one day.”

“For example,” said Dagobert, after a moment’s reflection, “you two are so much alike, that any one, who was not in the habit of seeing you daily, might easily take one for the other.  Well! if they did not know that you are, so to speak,’doubles,’ they might think an imp was at work instead of such good little angels as you are.”

“You are right, Dagobert; in this way many things may be explained, even as our father says.”  And Rose continued to read: 

“Not without pride, my gentle Eva, have I learned that Djalma has French blood in his veins.  His father married, some years ago, a young girl, whose family, of French origin, had long been settled at Batavia in the island of Java.  This similarity of circumstances between my old friend and myself—­for your family also, my Eva, is of French origin, and long settled in a foreign land—­has only served to augment my sympathy for him.  Unfortunately, he has long had to mourn the loss of the wife whom he adored.