“I, my sisters?” said the missionary, unable to comprehend the words of the orphans.  “You are mistaken.  I saw you to-day for the first time.”

“But in our dreams?”

“Yes—­do you not remember?—­in our dreams.”

“In Germany—­three months ago, for the first time.  Look at us well.”

Gabriel could not help smiling at the simplicity of Rose and Blanche, who expected him to remember a dream of theirs; growing more and more perplexed, he repeated:  “In your dreams?”

“Certainly; when you gave us such good advice.”

“And when we were so sorrowful in prison, your words, which we remembered, consoled us, and gave us courage.”

“Was it not you, who delivered us from the prison at Leipsic, in that dark night, when we were not able to see you?”

“I!”

“What other but you would thus have come to our help, and to that of our old friend?”

“We told him, that you would love him, because he loved us, although he would not believe in angels.”

“And this morning, during the tempest, we had hardly any fear.”

“Because we expected you.”

“This morning—­yes, my sisters—­it pleased heaven to send me to your assistance.  I was coming from America, but I have never been in Leipsic.  I could not, therefore, have let you out of prison.  Tell me, my sisters,” added he, with a benevolent smile, “for whom do you take me?”

“For a good angel whom we have seen already in dreams, sent by our mother from heaven to protect us.”

“My dear sisters, I am only a poor priest.  It is by mere chance, no doubt, that I bear some resemblance to the angel you have seen in your dreams, and whom you could not see in any other manner—­for angels are not visible to mortal eye.

“Angels are not visible?” said the orphans, looking sorrowfully at each other.

“No matter, my dear sisters,” said Gabriel, taking them affectionately by the hand; “dreams, like everything else, come from above.  Since the remembrance of your mother was mixed up with this dream, it is twice blessed.”

At this moment a door opened, and Dagobert made his appearance.  Up to this time, the orphans, in their innocent ambition to be protected by an archangel, had quite forgotten the circumstance that Dagobert’s wife had adopted a forsaken child, who was called Gabriel, and who was now a priest and missionary.

The soldier, though obstinate in maintaining that his hurt was only a blank wound (to use a term of General Simon’s), had allowed it to be carefully dressed by the surgeon of the village, and now wore a black bandage, which concealed one half of his forehead, and added to the natural grimness of his features.  On entering the room, he was not a little surprised to see a stranger holding the hands of Rose and Blanche familiarly in his own.  This surprise was natural, for Dagobert did not know that the missionary had saved the lives of the orphans, and had attempted to save his also.