In his waking senses Philip adhered to his story that his little sister Dolly had stood at the foot of his bed, called him ’le pauvre’ and had afterwards disappeared, led away by the nursing lady.  It seemed to Berenger a mere delusion of feverish weakness; for Philip had lost a great deal of blood, and the wound, though not dangerous, permitted no attempt at moving, and gave much pain.  Of the perfections of the lady as nurse and surgeon Philip could not say enough, and, pale and overwept as he allowed her to be, he declared that he was sure that her beauty must equal Mme. De Selinville’s.  Berenger laughed, and looking round this strange hospital, now lighted by the full rays of the morning sun, he was much struck by the scene.

It was the chancel of the old abbey church.  The door by which they had entered was very small, and perhaps had led merely to the abbot’s throne, as an irregularity for his own convenience, and only made manifest by the rending 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 be moved.’