I am all wonder, O my son, my soul

Is stunned within me; powers to speak to him

Or to interrogate him have I none,

Or even to look on him.--Cowper's ODYSSEY

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.




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