splints on their legs, or with sadly drooping heads, were going to roost in small cages hung from the branches to protect them from cats and other beasts of prey; to each, as he went by, Rufinus spoke a kindly word, or chirruped to encourage and cheer it.  Aromatic odors filled the garden, and rural silence; every object shone in golden glory, even the black back of the negro working at the water-wheel, and the white and yellow skin of the ox; while the clear voices of the choir of nuns thrilled through the convent-grove.  Pul listened, turning her face to meet it, and crossing her arms over her heart.  Her father pointed to her as he said to Paula: 

“That is where her heart is.  May she ever have her God before her eyes!  That cannot but be the best thing for a woman.  Still, among such as we are, we must hold to the rule:  Every man for his fellowman on earth, in the name of the merciful Lord!—­Can our wise and reasonable Father in Heaven desire that brother should neglect brother, or—­as in our case—­a child forsake its parents?”

“Certainly not,” replied Paula.  “For my own part, nothing keeps me from taking the veil but my hope of finding my long-lost father; I, like your Pulcheria, have often longed for the peace of the cloister.  How piously rapt your daughter stands there!  What a sweet and touching sight!—­In my heart all was dark and desolate; but here, among you all, it is already beginning to feel lighter, and here, if anywhere, I shall recover what I lost in my other home.—­Happy child!  Could you not fancy, as she stands there in the evening light, that the pure devotion which fills her soul, radiated from her?  If I were not afraid of disturbing her, and if I were worthy, how gladly would I join my prayers to hers!”

“You have a part in them as it is,” replied the old man with a smile.  “At this moment St. Cecilia appears to her under the guise of your features.  We will ask her—­you will see.”

“No, leave her alone!” entreated Paula with a blush, and she led Rufinus away to the other end of the garden.

They soon reached a spot where a high hedge of thorny shrubs parted the old man’s plot from that of Susannah.  Rufinus here pricked up his ears and then angrily exclaimed: 

“As sure as I long to be quit of this lumber, they are cutting my hedge again!  Only last evening I caught one of the slaves just as he was going to work on the branches; but how could I get at the black rascal through the thorns?  It was to make a peep-hole for curious eyes, or for spies, for the Patriarch knows how to make use of a petticoat; but I will be even with them!  Do you go on, pray, as if you had seen and heard nothing; I will fetch my whip.”

The old man hurried away, and Paula was about to obey him; but scarcely had he disappeared when she heard herself called in a shrill girl’s voice through a gap in the hedge, and looking round, she spied a pretty face between the boughs which had yesterday been forced asunder by a man’s hands—­like a picture wreathed with greenery.